The 6OGs Celebrate More OGs: Jack White, Toumani Diabate, Syd Barrett, and the Big Star Band

Now that the kids are back in school, the 6OGs have much to celebrate.  First and foremost, the new MJ Lenderman album, which we will no doubt write about soon.  Second, an incredible slate of shows coming our way in DC from other young artists: Tanukichan, Wishy, Fake Fruit, local greats Bad Moves, and many more. And finally, there is the subject of today’s post: the chance to celebrate other OGs (again). This time, it’s Jack White, the legends who come together to play Big Star records, Syd Barrett, and, in more of a tribute, Toumani Diabate.

New(ish) Album: The Sky is the Same Colour Everywhere by Toumani Diabate & Kayhan Kalhor. I will acknowledge up front that this album came out in May 2023, so it’s not exactly “new,” but it is new to me, and sadly, it will also be the last “new” (at least  non-posthumously new) album from this Malian giant following his tragic and untimely death in July 2024 at age 58. In fact, I only stumbled upon it when preparing for an Amazonian plant medicine ceremony led by my wife Liana and realizing I needed some of Toumani’s music to help prepare me. And prepare me it did, though, to be honest, it does not quite crack the list of my favorites of Toumani’s.

Toumani Diabate hailed from Bamako and was a master of the kora, a 21-stringed instrument that sounds like a harp and looks sorta like an oversized wooden metal detector; it’s truly bizarre in appearance but somehow totally sublime in sound and texture. Over many years, he released albums of solo kora music and a range of collaborations. His most notable teamwork was with fellow Malian legend Ali Farka Toure on 2005’s “In the Heart of the Moon,” which won a Grammy and even went gold in sales, which is somewhat astonishing for a largely instrumental album by two Malians; they also released two other albums together. He recorded with Taj Mahal, with both of his sons, and many other collaborators. His best album, in my view, is 2006’s Boulevard de l’Independance by Toumani Diabate’s Symmetric Orchestra, which demonstrates the full range and versatility of his kora playing when integrated with a full band of traditional musicians playing a much bigger and fuller sound.

On this album, Diabate teamed up with Iranian Kurdish musician Kayhan Kalhor, who plays the kamancheh, a 3- or 4-stringed instrument that resembles the kora to a degree, and the setar, a Persian relative of the lute, also with 4 strings. Given the political status in the world of Iran and Mali (which suffered successive military coups in 2020 and 2021 and is now ever-more dominated by the influence of Russia and the successors to the Wagner Group), this almost feels like a successor to 2004’s “Lullabies from the Axis of Evil,” which brought together traditional musicians from North Korea, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Palestine, Cuba, etc. These are two musicians who stand for the power of music to rise above conflicts, local and global, and to show us how we can find humanity in everyone. That is what I needed in my ceremony, and it is what most of the world needs to be reminded of each day, especially in the halls of power.    

The album opens with “Wayfarers of the Legends,” and it sets the tone for the album. Kalhor and Diabate trade opening lines back and forth, playing only minimally together and more in call-and-response fashion. Eventually, they weave together a bit more and create a dynamic combination when they do. Kalhor’s playing is haunting and earnest, while Diabate’s feels a bit lighter, airier, and more soothing. I don’t know enough about the instruments themselves, honestly, to know if that has to do with the players or just the sonic anatomy of what they are playing. Either way, the track sets the mood that is a mix of contemplation, wistfulness, and longing.  The second track, which clocks in at over 15 minutes, continues the mood and the back-and-forth nature of their playing. There is more interweaving of the instrumentation, but what stands out is less how the players come together and more how they contrast each other’s sounds.  

The standouts for me are the tracks with a bit (and I emphasize “a bit”) more tempo to them, especially “Joyful Sun,” “Anywhere That is Not Here,” and “Is Anyone There?” In these songs, you hear more interplay of the musicians and, as a result, the emotions. But even in these songs, I was somewhat desperate for other texture and accompaniment. Light percussion, strings, or even wordless vocals would have taken this to a different level – at least for me. It’s easy to imagine what a second or third installation of this collaboration would have been, as Diabate was able to develop with Ali Farka Toure.

All in all, this is a gorgeous and fitting end (though, again, tragically so) for Toumani Diabate’s recording career: collaborating with a talented musician from another culture or genre such that we understand and appreciate each more than we would have through their solo work. I will still likely pick up the Symmetric Orchestra record first when I need Toumani for general musical enjoyment, but if I need contemplation and spiritual centering, then this will be the medicine I turn to. (Brad)

Album from an upcoming/recent show: No Name by Jack White. Speaking only for myself, I think we could all use a little rock star energy (RSE) every now and then.  I’m not talking about the line-snorting, groupie-abusing, hotel-destroying, hot-tub-threesome-having (ok, maybe that last one doesn’t sound so bad) excesses of what seemed like every episode of Behind the Music.  I’m talking about walking onstage like you own the place, which also happens to be packed to the gills with fans who waited on line across one city block, up another city block, and across yet another to get in.  The opening band slayed and got everyone thoroughly juiced up, the crowd now eagerly anticipating you and your killer backing band (but really just you).  The house lights go down, the stage lights go up, the strobes start flashing, and you go on to shred for almost 2.5 hours, one riff-tastic banger after another, accompanied by sing-along “whoahs” and “yeahs” and “ohs” from the crowd (when they weren’t whipping their phones out – more on that later).

That’s what it was like when Jack White played the 9:30 Club in DC.  Total RSE.

Three words – This.  Show.  Rocked.

(As an aside: props to White for the structure of this tour.  Stripped down band, smaller clubs and venues than he could otherwise play, and short lead time from ticket sales to show date.  For the DC shows, they were announced on a Wednesday, went on sale that Friday, and the shows were the following Monday and Tuesday, with a third announced the next day for that night.)

Unsurprisingly, the setlist featured a heavy focus on White’s new album, No Name (which, in a thoroughly gangster move, was first released secretly in mid-July as an unlabeled free giveaway to customers of White’s Third Man Records).  No Name is White’s best solo album since 2014’s Lazaretto and easily his best straight-up blues rock since 2012’s Blunderbuss (I’ll defend 2022’s Fear of the Dawn on its own merit, but it does not have the same echoes of De Stijl, White Blood Cells, or Elephant that the listener hears on the new LP).  No Name is riffs, guitar solos, and more riffs, which is what we want from guy who gave us “Fell in Love with A Girl” and “Hello Operator.”

White kicked off the show with three straight tracks from the new record.  “Old Scratch Blues” doubled as both the album and show opener, leading in with an almost gentle bluesy riff before launching into chugging blues-rock chords backed by a pounding beat.  Right from the start of both the album and the show, the message to the listener is clear – it might get loud.  From there, White transitioned to “That’s How I’m Feeling,” another No Name standout that features a prominent bass line possibly inspired by his time with The Raconteurs, and that inspired the first of several guttural shout-alongs from the fans.  Next up was “Tonight (Was A Long Time Ago),” an onslaught of mid-‘70s Midwestern power chords that featured one of White’s many guitar god flexes that night.

From there, White mixed in covers and songs from his previous bands and back catalog, starting with a cover of the Willie Dixon/Muddy Waters blues classic “I’m Your Hoochie Coochie Man,” the rhythmic, funky Dead Weather track “I Cut Like a Buffalo,” and “Top Yourself” from The Raconteurs’ second album.  But the song that really blew the top off the club up to that point was “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground.”  And yes, roughly a third of the crowd had their phones in the air from those first notes through the end of the song.  I get it, we’ve all done it, I quickly snapped two pictures that night from my excellent view on the railing.  But man, if you’re able to hear Jack White play a White Stripes classic in a 1,200-cap room in 2024, maybe stay in the moment and take in the RSE?

Continuing with the tracks from No Name, White played the Zeppelin-esque “It’s Rough on Rats (If You’re Asking),” complete with John Bonham-style drumbeats.  Two of my favorites from the new album were also among the best of the night.  “Archbishop Harold Holmes” finds White indulging in his flair for the dramatic, taking on the persona of a backwoods preacher.  But whereas recent similar efforts saw White going overly theatrical or experimental, here it is a straight blues-rock jam.  “What’s the Rumpus?” contains some of the best lyrics on the album, showing us that White is paying attention to the world around him (“I’ve got a feeling that the truth’s become opinion these days”) yet reminding us that at heart he is the ultimate music nerd (“It won’t be long before my stereo breaks a hundred thousand plays”).

“Underground,” the most traditionally bluesy of all the song on No Name, appeared toward the end of the main set, while “Morning at Midnight,” a glam-inspired driving rocker, turned up in the middle of the three-song encore.

The remainder of the night was devoted to previous bands and solo releases.  “Love Interruption” from Blunderbuss was the closest the group came to an acoustic jam.  “Cannon,” the Son House-inspired track from the 1999 debut, was the first of several more White Stripes songs to come after “Dead Leaves.”  White banged out two consecutive songs from Fear of the Dawn – the title track and “The White Raven” – before closing out the main set with the still-surprisingly ubiquitous (yet awesome) jock jam “Seven Nation Army.”  Noticeably absent from the setlist were any songs from Lazaretto, Boarding House Reach, and Entering Heaven Alive (three or four songs from Lazaretto could have fit neatly in this show, and I believe have turned up elsewhere on this tour; the latter two aren’t really my cup of tea and don’t fit the motif of the No Name Tour).  Finally, White and his band came out for the encores, which started with The Raconteurs’ “Broken Boy Soldier” and ended with a thundering rendition of The White Stripes’ “Ball and Biscuit.”

I’m not breaking new ground by saying we don’t have rock stars in 2024.  The biggest stars in the world are Taylor Swift and Beyonce, while the song of the summer (whatever that means) belonged to Charli XCX and music’s big obsession for a hot minute was the Kendrick-Drake beef.  As excited as I might be for the new MJ Lenderman or Bad Moves albums, those acts don’t have rock star vibes.  And the older legacy acts that are still touring, like The Rolling Stones or Bob Dylan?  It’s tough to have RSE at age 80 (not knocking them; I’m impressed they have any energy at that age). 

This isn’t meant to pit one type of music against another, or one type of rock band against another; it’s just a fact.  But I think it’s great that Jack White still wants to carry himself like a rock star (at least while onstage) and clearly believes in the idea of a rock star.  He may not be able to sell out five nights at Wembley like the Gallagher brothers, but turning the amps up to 11 and blowing the doors off small to mid-sized clubs that sold out in minutes at this point in his career?  That’s serious RSE. (Brian)

Bonus album/show:  Radio City by Big Star.  OG Brad and I hit the Big Star trifecta.  In 2014, it was the tour commemorating Big Star’s Third at the 9:30 Club.  In 2022, it was the 50^th anniversary tour for #1 Record at DC’s Union Stage.  And now, three days before the Jack White show, it was the 50^th anniversary tour for Radio City, also at Union Stage.  There’s nothing to say about Radio City that hasn’t already been written or said.  But the show itself?  If you like Big Star or one of the many bands they influenced, check out these performances the next time they come around.  The band has had a rotating lineup but the core (which some members of the music press refer to as The Big Star Quintet) is comprised of surviving Big Star member Jody Stephens, Jon Auer of The Posies, Mike Mills of R.E.M., Chris Stamey of The dB’s, and Pat Sansone of Wilco.  And it was this quintet that recently performed all of Radio City, most of #1 Record, a handful of songs from Third, and three Chris Bell solo songs.  These are among the most enjoyable shows I’ve ever seen.  Each time, one of the high points for me is when Mike Mills takes the lead vocals on “September Gurls.”  Here’s a guy who was a member of, at the time, the biggest American band in the world.  But I always get a kick out of seeing the absolute joy on his face as he belts out “December boys got it bad” in a 450-cap room.  Stephens brings the perspective as one of the only people alive who can speak to what it was like to work with Alex Chilton, Bell, and Andy Hummel, and the rest of the band acknowledges how privileged they are to be able to play these songs every few years.  Hearing them live is a reminder that Big Star deserved their chance to be, for their era, among the biggest American bands in the world. (Brian)

Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years or old): Barrett by Syd Barrett.  Recently, OG Marc and I celebrated our first anniversary as DJs on WOWD-LP, Takoma Park, and moving into our second year on the radio got us thinking about sophomore albums, especially given the specter of the “sophomore slump.” Turns out, of course, there are oodles and oodles of great second albums. Maybe a future post for us here.

And amid all of the amazing options, the first thing that came to mind for me was “Barrett,” and especially the song “Baby Lemonade.” Was unexpected, to be honest, as I hadn’t listened to the record in ages. But that immediate association caused me to go back and listen to the album and realize, again, what genius (most of) it is.

Most music fans will know the basics of Syd Barrett’s history: founded Pink Floyd, got kicked out of Pink Floyd for erratic/psychotic behavior, made a few solo records, was the subject of “Shine on, You Crazy Diamond,” and lived a mostly secluded life until he died in 2006. All of which is true, although the circumstances of his descent into psychosis is way more harrowing than I remembered, the way he was kicked out of Pink Floyd makes the Dinosaur Jr. story seem like a mutual admiration society, and as we’ll discuss here, his solo records deserve much more attention than they usually get.

Barrett released both his debut record, “The Madcap Laughs,” and the subject of this review, just called “Barrett” in 1970. Like his debut, “Barrett” involved the Pink Floyd band members, including production and bass by David Gilmour and keyboards from Richard Wright. One of the other musicians involved in the recording (the drummer from Humble Pie) summed up Syd Barrett, and this album, perfectly: "He would never play the same tune twice. Sometimes Syd couldn't play anything that made sense; other times what he'd play was absolute magic.”

“Barrett” features those contrasts, and so many of them in between. The song that triggered this review, “Baby Lemonade,” opens the record and, for me, hits the mark of “absolute magic.” After 45 seconds or so of few measures of various guitar meanderings, the song settles into a perfectly constructed, if layered, pop song. The initial lyrics kinda sorta make sense and set the scene “in the sad town” while the “rain falls in the gray far away.” The song continues to develop momentum when the chorus kicks in, and you start to wonder where they lyrics are heading when he starts singing about “baby lemonade.”

From there, the lyrics get into the truly surreal: “I'm screaming, I met you this way/You're nice to me like ice/In the clock they sent through a washing machine/Come around, make it soon, so alone/Please, please, Baby Lemonade.” But the song doesn’t break down into surrealism while the lyrics do; instead, it remains tight and clear throughout. Barrett is not a great singer, by any stretch, but what he lacks in vocal chops, he delivers in commitment and emotion. By the time he was making these songs, these albums were among the only moments of lucidity he was having, and you can almost hear him cling to the songs to keep his way. Even when he is singing lyrics and words that don’t make any sense, you know he needs to be in front of the mic.  

The second track, “Love Song,” is perhaps even more perfect. Barrett, of course, was rooted in the blues, as we know from the name Pink Floyd and its namesakes, Pink Anderson and Floyd Council. It’s just two verses, repeated, and as sweet as a song called “Love Song” should be. Most of Barrett’s best work comes through as childlike, innocent, and a bit naïve, e.g. “Bike” on the Pink Floyd debut. Same here: “I knew a girl and I like her still/She said she knew she would trust me/And I her will.” With a gorgeous keyboard lead and drum beat pacing, Barrett sings in a wistful, contemplative, and still earnest way.

From those two songs, the record covers the sweep of what you get with Syd Barrett: pure classic/psychedelic rock (“Dominoes,” for example, sounds almost like “Riders on the Storm” by the end); blues-inspired Dadaist jams (“Rats,” “Maisie,” and “Wolfpack” though very different tunes, fit this dynamic); pop ditties (“Gigolo Aunt,” “Waving My Arms in the Air,” and “Wined and Dined” again are not alike in and of themselves, but their core is straightahead acoustic pop song). For me, “Gigolo Aunt” and the fourth track, “It Is Obvious” are the standouts.

And then the record ends with what you ultimately come to Syd Barrett for: catchy and surreal. “Effervescing Elephant” is less than two minutes long, and the first twenty-ish seconds are night sounds, followed by the sounds of tuba. In less than 90 seconds, he sings a phenomenal tale of various animals interacting with each other, and with him, leading to a tiger eating the effervescing elephant who, as the song opens, predicts his own death. It’s a wild ride, but if anyone can deliver what feels like a William Blake poem turned into rock song, it’s Syd.

Many artists from across genres reference Syd’s influence – from Marc Bolan to Robyn Hitchcock to the Sex Pistols to Neutral Milk Hotel to XTC – have claimed Barrett as an influence, though Jeff Mangum and Neutral Milk Hotel is the one where I feel it most directly. In the end, Syd’s two solo albums feel like moments in time and, unlike other legends of the era, less directly connected sonically to today’s music than, say, Lou Reed or Alex Chilton. But whether or not they changed the world, they remain endlessly entertaining worlds to get lost in. (Brad)