There is just barely enough kids' music in the United Kingdom that reaches North America for me to note how little kids' music there is in the United Kingdom whenever I review an album from across the pond. But the genre there is maturing a little bit, as evidenced by the number of albums released by artists best known for playing for adults. Two of the most recent come from Mick Cooke -- best known as a member of the band Belle and Sebastian, but a composer and arranger for film and TV as well -- and Nick Cope of the now-dormant band the Britpop band Candyskins.
Cooke's album Down at the Zoo sounds very much like a soundtrack to an animated children's TV special about, well, a zoo with anthropomorphically familar residents. It's an extension of "The Monkeys Are Breaking Out the Zoo," Belle and Sebastian's contribution to Colours Are Brighter, the kids-comp Cooke put together a few years back. On that song (also here), the monkeys scamper ouf of the zoo, while the peacock sings "Pay attention to me / pay attention to me" ("The Peacock Strut") and the penguins goof off playing Dixieland jazz ("Playtime for the Penguins"). They're character sketches primarily, with a mix of simply-arranged pop styles that don't step much into rock territory, though the tracks that do -- "We Are the Tigers" and the especially awesome "The Crocodile Synchronised Swimming Team" -- are among the best. But the 32-minute album (listen to a couple tracks and hear more about the recording here) probably won't satisfy fans of Colours Are Brighter hoping for yet another, more muscular collection of rockers recorded for adults as much as kids.
As gentle as Cooke's album is, Cope's is even more delicate. My Socks is his second album for families, following up last year's What Colour Is Your T Shirt?, and it features hummable acoustic chamber-pop tunes about very preschool-ish issues. The title track is an unambiguous and unironic celebration of, well, socks. Other songs deal with going to the grocery store ("The Very Long Shopping List", which could be a long-lost Burt Bacharach track), bubble baths ("Pour in the Bubbles"), and manners ("Thankyou"). It's mostly mellow mid-tempo stuff about familiar concerns, which makes a song like the peppy "There's a Bear" (most preschoolers having not seen "a bear / over there") stand out even more. It's a good album for a rainy day.
Despite their UK origins, both albums are available Stateside (via iTunes and other outlets). Parents who pick up Down at the Zoo or My Socks in hopes of finding a string of pop gems that they will listen to without reserve when their kids are out of the room or the car will be disappointed -- these albums' target audience is unambiguously the preschoolers. But just as it's important sometimes to listen to your own stuff and not have kids music totally take over your stereo or iPod, it's important that preschoolers occasionally get music recorded without hesitation for them. And I'd recommend crafted-with-care-and-purpose albums like these two above most mass-produced TV tie-in stuff for this age. Here's hoping they encourage more folks to join 'em.
Disclosure: I received copies of the albums for possible review.
Review: Little Nut Tree - Dan Zanes and Friends
I've already reviewed Dan Zanes' latest album for NPR. But there's a lot I can't say in a sub-4-minute review with sound clips, so I thought I'd add a few comments on Little Nut Tree, Zanes' sixth "proper" family album.
First, it's been a long time since Zanes released a "family" album, more than five years. And while Nueva York!, The Welcome Table, and 76 Trombones weren't bad albums -- even the least-satisfying Zanes album is better than 85-90% of family music released in a given year -- they lacked the everything-including-the-kitchen-sink variety of songs that is an important part of Zanes' appeal. It's not the scattershot approach of many kids' albums -- one reggae tune, one hip-hop, one glossy pop -- but rather songs from many traditions, filtered through Zanes' garage-folk lens, which lends his family albums some continuity but keeps the music fresh.
Itty-Bitty Review: These Are My Friends - Alastair Moock
True confession time: I almost never listen to Woody Guthrie's kids' music records. Oh, sure, I liked them, but if you check out that link, you'll note that while I think Guthrie's a great and prolific songwriter, I'm not a big fan of Guthrie's voice or his production. (Note: neither is Robert Christgau, it would seem.)
Which brings us to Massachusetts musician Alastair Moock and his new album These Are My Friends. On this, his second album for kids, Moock dives even deeper into the wordplay and preschool-friendly songs that were Guthrie's strengths. Guthrie would be proud to call many of these songs his own (heck, he already has, at least in the case of "Mail Myself To You," which Moock covers appealingly). "CBAs and a Twinkle Baa" is a stone-cold mixed-up kindie classic, guaranteed to leave a group of 4-year-olds laughing. (Or hopelessly confused, if the inscrutable "From Me To You" hasn't already.)
And unlike Guthrie's lo-fi productions and voice, Moock's got an appealing (if gravelly) voice and a relaxed but clean sound on the album. Moock also draws on a wide variety of guest artists, including Rani Arbo (the chipper "Feets Up"), Anand Nayak (who helped produce the album and joins Mook and "Born to Dance"), Mark Erelli (a bluesy "Ladybugs' Picnic"), and Kris Delmhorst (a lovely "Green Green Rocky Road"). And none of the guests feel out of place, tacked on just to impress -- "These Are My Friends," indeed.
The 37-minute album will be most appreciated by kids ages 3 through 7. You can listen to samples here. On These Are My Friends, Alastair Moock provides fresh folk for fresh folk, a worthy 21st-century spiritual successor to Guthrie's music. It's a solid album Woody would dig. Recommended.
Disclosure: I received a copy of the album for possible review.
Itty-Bitty Review: Practically Ridiculous - The Jimmies
Somebody just go ahead and give Ashley Albert her own TV show already. In fact, she has indeed been looking for a show, and why anyone as talented as Albert (and as willing to send photos of her wearing a fake mustache as her press shot) isn't yet somewhere on live-action TV is a little mystifying to me. But for now Albert -- kindie's Lucille Ball -- is content to rock out with The Jimmies. On the Jimmies' long-in-the-recording second album, the recently-released Practically Ridiculous, Albert continues the formula for success that made their debut CD Make Your Own Someday so winning: channeling one's inner eight-year-old attitude while marshaling top-notch pop-rock music production as backup for said thoughts.
Stylistically, sartorially, and practically (she's the one constant Jimmie at this point and the songs are all hers), Albert is kindie rock's Gwen Stefani, and on Practically Ridiculous, she polishes most songs to a glitzy pop-rock shine. You can practically smell the hairspray through the iPod on some of the songs, like the blitzing "Birthday," whereas songs like "Minivan Hotrod" or "Career Day" sound like the beats and the AutoTune were stolen from another, much less funny track.
And, really, it's bringing the funny that separates the Jimmies from a lot of other kids' acts. It's one thing to be excited about getting a pet ("Gonna Get a Hamster"), it's another thing entirely to really sell the enthusiasm when Albert as the song's narrator finds out that the hamster won't necessarily do everything she thought ("I'M... STILL... gonna get a hamster..."). This is where her years of experience doing voiceover work comes in handy. "The Hook" is a meta-song, the spiritual sequel to "What's That Sound?" from the first album, that explains pop song construction. (And while I'm emphasizing the humor here, the best track is probably the mostly serious "Bonfire," which mixes a little country-rock with a little self-empowerment.)
The album's most appropriate for kids ages 5 through 9; you can hear clips of the album wherever it's (electronically) sold. Practically Ridiculous doesn't veer much from the formula from the Jimmies' debut, but why should it when that one worked out so well? This one does, too, TV's (temporary?) loss is kindie's (continued) gain. Definitely recommended.
Disclosure: I received a copy of the album for possible review.
Review Four-fer: Hullabaloo, Alphabeticians, Mister G, Monty Harper
As you would probably expect, I get many more disks than I could possibly have time to review (unless somebody decides that they want to nominate me for a MacArthur Fellowship). Given my time constraints, there are many reasons why I don't review an album, including it stinks or I can't figure out what to say about it. But there are a number of decent albums with a particular point of view that don't get reviewed in a timely manner just because life goes on. Here, then, are four albums, each with a different approach to the genre -- your family is likely to dig at least one of them.
San Diego-area musician Steve Denyes is a prolific songwriter (see here for a side project of mine he originated), cranking out a Hullabaloo album at least once a year. His latest record Road Trip tackles the theme of, well, car travel (natch), with thirteen tracks covering the experience (truckers' horns, traffic jams, the unfortunate demise of bugs on the windshield). The opening title track is a fun country-rocker, while the rest of songs take a slightly mellower, folkier, Johnny Cash-ier approach. (You can stream the album here.) The album is most appropriate for kids ages 2 through 7. In one sitting, the songs begin to run together, but there are a lot of songs here that would work well in a mixtape for your next trip. Recommended for: your next trip to Grandma's house, your afternoon errand-run.
Moving up the coast to Portland we find The Alphabeticians, a duo consisting of Eric Levine and Jeff Inlay, AKA Mr. E. and Mr. Hoo, which gives you a little sense of the goofiness that this duo trades in on their formal debut Rock. A little bit of the Pixies and R.E.M. (literally, in the case of the song "Eric Saw Peter Buck's Girlfriend and Then He Saw Peter Buck"), with a healthy dose of They Might Be Giants, "Weird Al" Yankovic, and Schoolhouse Rock mixed in. It could use a little more polish production-wise in spots, but there are some great songs in there (I recommend giving "Metaphor" and "Monkey on my Shirt" a spin at the album's streaming page.) The album's most appropriate for kids ages 3 through 8. Recommended for: the sassy younger kids on TV sitcoms, families who have at least one TMBG album (kids' or adult's) around the house, kids who want lots of alphabet practice.
Itty-Bitty Review: Tag, You're It! - The Not-Its!
I've always thought of punk music as being pretty anti-authoritarian, which is why I've been surprised to see a lot of kids punk bands be, well, not anti-authoritarian in their music. I suppose it's not that surprising -- how could you sell your music to the very authoritarians (the parents) you're singing against? But I wonder how many parents see the punk outfits and hear the crunchy guitars and think, "not for my family." Pity.
The Seattle band The Not-Its! have always been on the "pop" end of the pop-punk spectrum. Rather than take a full-on punk approach, they sneak themselves into homes and audiences with snazzy color-coordinated tutus and ties and cartoon-friendly album covers. This summer they released their third album Tag, You're It! filled with songs about such dangerous topics as freeze tag ("Freeze Tag"), favorite subjects in school ("Mathematics"), and playing air guitar ("I Love Food"). I'm beginning to suspect that the Kindiependent bands have access to some eternal fountain of hooks that they parcel out to themselves, because this album's filled with catchy choruses and nifty melodic lines. (Lead singer Sarah Shannon's voice and the tight musical backup don't hurt in delivering the hooks.)
If there's a downside to the album, it's that it plays it too safe at points -- saying "Gotta Keep on Tryin'" is a lot better than most songs that tackle the topic of perserverance, for example, isn't saying much. I tended to prefer the slightly off-kilter tracks: the parent-child argument of "Carry Me," for example, will ring a bell with many parents who've gone, well, anywhere, ever with their kids. (And "Puppy Dog" nicks the bassline from Blondie's "Heart of Glass" to call out a poorly trained canine.)
The 31-minute album is most appropriate for kids ages 4 through 8. You can hear some of the tracks from the album at the band's music page. Tag, You're It! is a short, sharp blast of pop-punk goodness through and through. Safe enough for the kiddoes and the grandparents, regardless of whether they're into Joey Ramone or Vic Damone. Recommended.