Jinkies!

Berberian Sound Studios looks interesting. We'd say super-awesome but we haven't seen it. Even though the lie of sound engineering/manipulation has been explored before in films, Berberian takes a novel approach and it stars Toby Jones. That's a winning combo. Let's hope the flick lives up to all this promise:


[courtesy of Artificial Eye Film]

His Name Is Wigald

WIGALD BONING
Jet Set Jazz
(Compost)
Boning establishes a strong sense of mystery throughout -- as if his live horns, bass, piano, percussion and electronics are out to turn your weekend trip down the coast into a Hitchcock espionage thriller. Most of the compositions are mid-paced mood pieces, with wordless vocals and breathy reeds set against Latin bass and percussion.

A native of Wildeshausen, Germany, the multi-instrumentalist's career began with the jazz-punk outfit KIXX. But his second career as a comedic performer on a Saturday Night Live-type television show, plus his stated desire with Jet Set to recreate the music he heard on the radio as a child, gives a clear idea of what to expect. Italian cinema soundtracks of the 1960s and '70s, bossa nova, the more accessible West Coast jazz and early synthesizer exotica all pile into his memories.

A theatrical undercurrent of travel-weariness runs beneath most of the record. And given Boning's comedy background, it's easy to imagine his globe-trotting cast of characters putting limp, begloved wrists to their foreheads, overwhelmed by all the trans-continental fun their wealth and freedom allows.

But Boning's sense of humor and use of electronics sometimes works against him. The distorted speech in "Avalanche" feels weird, and the house track "Kobra Dance" crashes when the vocals come in, making it seem even more out of place among the other songs.

His best gag is the cover art, featuring Boning clad in top hat and tails flanked by two blonde stewardess types straight from the Matt Helm casting pool -- but all three are cardboard cut-outs.

Reference material: Anybody familiar with Piero Umiliani or Nicola Conte won't be disappointed with Wigald Boning.

The Italian Sob

JOE BARBIERI
In Parole Povere
(Le Pop)
Italian singer/songwriter Joe Barbieri’s songs might pass by unnoticed in a fancy coffee shop. The tunes, the players, the after-hours mood -- it’s all very professional but not immediately impressive. Then Barbieri pours his whisper-to-a-croon voice on these songs and suddenly he’s on to something.

A piano/bass/guitar combo provide the major backing for In Parole Povere, with trumpet and strings ornamenting some tunes. Barbieri’s arrangements leave so much space that hardly a chord appears throughout the opener, “In Questo Preciso Momento.”

The French café number “Pura Ambra” defines Povere by letting an accordion, cello and acoustic guitar try to out-melancholy each other, only to be upstaged by Barbieri’s heavy-lidded delivery.

The Typing Monkey recently fired our Italian translator, so we’re unable to tell you exactly what Mr. Barbieri is singing about. But we’re not sure we want to know. Words a non-native speaker might understand could ruin the experience.

Instead, foreign ears can embrace the tragic romance tone of “Sono Una Grondaia” or the prayer-like “La Nuda Verità.” Near the end, Barbieri increases the tempo with “Microcosmo,” an almost-bossa nova that suggests the meter with brushed drums and flute.

“Leggera” and “Sia” commit the sin of sounding like the kind of ear pudding responsible for the jeers leveled at lite-jazz radio. But again, that’s where Barbieri’s exchange-student charm keeps him from trouble.

Reference materials: In an espresso and Gauloises-induced bout of cinematic ennui, perhaps you’ve wished that your M. Ward and João Gilberto albums could produce an Italian-singing hybrid? Joe Barbieri should do the trick.