TUESDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2010 MUSIC QUICK SPINS


Toby Keith BULLETS IN THE GUN


Toby Keith can be predictably boorish, but he can also surprise you, as his regrettably titled new album, “Bullets in the Gun,” amply attests. There isn’t a weak track on the record, and most of the songs, more than half of them written with the redoubtable Bobby Pinson, are pretty terrific. Then again, even second-rate material would sound great when played by a band that includes the likes of Kenny Greenberg (guitar), Michael Rhodes (bass), Paul Franklin (steel guitar) and Phil Madeira (accordion and organ). Rhodes’s full-bodied bass leads the way, notably on the boogieing “Drive It On Home” and the rumbling title track. The latter gets a lift from imaginative banjo and harmonica fills and keening guitarist atmospherics. Just as welcome is the way Keith tempers his


trademark bluster with self-awareness and self-deprecation. “This ain’t the first time to be my own worst enemy,” he sings to the meat-and-potatoes country-rock of “Ain’t Breakin’ Nothin’,” one of six songs on the record in which the woman in Keith’s life dumps him. “In a Couple of Days,” a heartbreak ballad sweetened by vibes and accordion, shows off the more melodic side of his otherwise boisterous baritone. Even “Trailorhood,” a sendup of the plastic pools


and lawn-chair life of the “fools” he once knew in a Texas trailer park, is redeemed by Keith’s self-skewering sense of humor. “It takes one to know one,” he chuckles, and with just enough conviction to tell us he means it.


— Bill Friskics-Warren Recommended tracks:


“Ain’t Breakin’ Nothin’,” “In a Couple of Days,” “Bullets in the Gun”


Recommended tracks: “The Other Side,” “Grenade”


Philip Roth, his own ‘Nemesis’ book world from C1


playground. Swaggering and hos- tile, the Italians announce their intent: “We’re spreadin’ polio. . . . We got it and you don’t, so we thought we’d drive up and spread a little around.”While the Jewish kids watch, the Italian spits on the sidewalk, sending “a gob of viscous sputum [that] splattered . . . only inches from the tip of Mr. Cantor’s


sneakers.”


This attack is not suf- fered meekly: Brave Bucky Cantor faces down the Italians, calls the police and swabs down the side- walk with disinfec- tant. He does every- thing right — perfectly, in fact — but the march of disease, like that of discrimination, is irrational. One person’s best ef- forts won’t stem the tide. Polio invades the quiet neigh- borhood of Weequahic. “ ‘Our Jewish children are our riches,’ someone said. ‘Why is it attacking our beautiful Jewish children?’ ” At first, Cantor is a source of strength for the community, but as fear infects him, he loses moral conviction, quits his job and abandons the kids. He heads for a job at a summer camp in the un- contaminated Catskills, where his girlfriend works. As the epi- demic rages through the Jewish neighborhood, anti-Semitic mur- murings are reported. All this takes place against the grim back- drop of wartime Europe. The idea of disease as weapon is sinister and electrifying, partic- ularly when used against an eth- nic group. This sort of warfare could provide a mirror to reflect our hidden cultural fault lines, and it’s a rich philosophical premise for a novel. Roth, how- ever, chooses not to explore it. The culture wars are left behind when Cantor arrives in the Jew- ish camp. In fact, once the shift is made to the Catskills, the tension diminishes and the pace slows. The place itself is given only a perfunctory description. Roth is lovingly attentive to Newark, but evokes the rural landscape in cli- ches: “This was the wide-open spaces. Here the vista was lim- itless.” Much of the dialogue is wooden and long-winded, deliv- ering information through pon- derous monologues. Bucky’s girlfriend, Marcia, is a


two-dimensional character whose main appeal lies in “the al- lure of her petite figure” and her sexual urgency. “Undress me, please. Undress me now,” she begs Cantor. Apart from lacklus- ter sex scenes, from here on the


narrative is set in a more limited and less compelling arena of men’s athletics, men’s friendships and men’s interlocking networks of responsibility. The final scene, back in Newark, offers an elegiac reprise of Bucky’s earlier heroic presence, but this doesn’t make up for the long, flat sections set in camp. The book’s most serious flaw,


however, is not its flagging en- ergy but an odd lacuna that occurs in many of Roth’s books. His work is rich with philosoph- ical inquiry, deep with intellectual explora- tion, but lacking in emotional range. He seems unable to write convincingly of the drama at the center of our lives: a deep, vital and passionate com-


mitment to another person. Roth doesn’t create a loving bond that’s both intellectual and erotic, one that entails trust and respect as well as carnal intent. He writes tenderly about the family, but only from the viewpoint of a son or grandson; he writes with little depth or understanding about wives, girlfriends or mistresses. Absent from his work is that life- long dialogue between lovers, the chronicle of their fierce struggle


LookWho’sComing to the


to engage on every level. Roth’s women characters are presented primarily as sexual partners. He seems unable to cre- ate a woman whom he loves (ex- cept as a mother) or for whom he feels a sympathy we could share. His male protagonists are often misogynistic, and their inten- tions toward women simplistic. Such a limited view might appear lively and interesting in a cocky young writer with his life ahead of him, but over time it becomes tedious. An author’s work should reveal the shifts in understanding and the rise in wisdom that age might confer, but Roth’s shows no such learning curve. To be a great writer, you


needn’t be a good person, but you must know how it feels to be one: You must be able to write Desde- mona. To be a great writer, you needn’t be in love, but you must know what it means: You must know how Achilles feels about Pa- troclus. Roth seems unable to cre- ate — or even to understand — the powerful emotional engine that drives the greatest fiction that we know.


bookworld@washpost.com


Robinson is most recently the author of “Cost,” which was named one of the five best novels of 2008 by The Post.


MUSIC REVIEW


Washington Bach Consort, holding court with a novel ‘Origins’


by Cecelia Porter The Washington Bach Con-


sort chose an intriguing theme — with a twist — for Sunday’s program, titled “Origins,” at National Presbyterian Church. The unique performance fea- tured not only the original Ky- rie and Gloria sections of Jo- hann Sebastian Bach’s Mass in B Minor, BWV 232, but also music by three of his now- forgotten contemporaries. Their works were part of the musical goings-on at the lav- ish royal court of Dresden, one of Germany’s cultural crossroads. The Consort’s idea was to capture the court’s spectac- ular but competitive musical scene in Bach’s day, focusing on the two Mass sections, which he hoped would gain him a choice court post. (The remaining movements were composed later.) The concert included a stirring Magnif- icat in A by Johann David Heinichen, the rather bland Ouverture No. 6 in B-flat by


Francesco Maria Veracini and an exciting Te Deum in D, ZWV 145, by Jan Dismas Zelenka. With Consort Director J. Reilly Lewis conducting, the musi- cians gave splendid accounts of this music. For the Bach, Lewis offered the capacity audience a daring experiment: Based on perform- ance practice in the composer’s day, Lewis assigned fewer than a dozen singers to cover five vo- cal parts rather than the usually heard gigantic chorus. The voices were supported by an ex- pert orchestra on baroque-period instruments. The novel under- taking worked to some degree. The singers managed the solos


and choral sections with reso- nant clarity, exuberance and flu- idity in lengthy, embellished me- lodic passages. The orchestra and its luminous soloists played ex- pressively and with artful tech- nique. But the balance between the singers and instrumentalists wasn’t uniformly effective, the or- chestra (possibly too large) often winning out over the sometimes inaudible chorus and soloists. Perhaps the spacious sanctuary’s acoustics also worked against the performers. But Lewis should try his worthy experiment again — in a smaller space.


style@washpost.com Porter is a freelance writer.


Bruno Mars DOO-WOPS & HOOLIGANS


We can’t be sure, but Bruno Mars might be an android. The Hawaii-born singer-songwriter- producer-pop terror was unleashed onto the world this year, like a future-sent cyborg come to swallow the Billboard charts whole. In February, B.o.B’s syrupy “Nothin’ on You” premiered and rocketed to the top of the charts. Then Travie McCoy’s “Billionaire” did the same in March. Bruno’s “Just the Way You Are” — included here on his debut — took off in July. In August, an unprintable kiss-off by Cee-Lo became a viral phenomenon. Mars and his production team, the preposterously named Smeezingtons, have had a hand in all of those songs. It’s all happening so fast — who will stop this Terminator? We ask because “Doo-Wops & Hooligans”


indicates that Mars (real name: Peter Hernandez), treacle though his songs may be, appears primed for a durable career. This is a short album, with just 10 songs, but it is


effortlessly tuneful — the songs often sound as if they have been written on the spot, a quality that is both endearing and damning. “I be loungin’ on the couch just chillin’ in my Snuggie / click to MTV so they can teach me how to Dougie,” he sings on “The Lazy Song.” Mars mixes influences both august (Michael Jackson’s wounded tenor is a huge influence) and contemporary (Jason Mraz’s lackadaisical pop is a not-too-distant cousin). Still, Mars is a melodic savant, a preternatural possessor of stickiness. The high-concept drama “The Other Side,” a reunion with Cee-Lo and B.o.B, is the last and best song on this album, and it is a song that could win in any era: past, present and, yes, even a dystopian future.


— Sean Fennessey


Marnie Stern MARNIE STERN


The guitar is everything for Marnie Stern. But


she’s no posturing six-string hero: The intertwining, multilayered guitar tracks on her eponymous third album come across like burnished steel — and gleam with a unique ferocity. Topped with her caterwauling vocals and presented with metallic bass and drum accompaniment, the result is her most focused, cohesive work. Stern’s previous records were original, occasionally inspiring efforts that were mostly smothered by her startling technique (including finger-tapping and . . . just YouTube her). Her latest, however, represents a leap forward in songwriting and vision. What the listener gets are sparkling, tumbling songs such as “Nothing Left,” which opens with an ominous riff, adds an off-kilter slashing rhythm section and leaps into an infectious fist-pump chant before cascading into a brilliant chorus that contains an actual hook. Similar stuff abounds. Some have cast the blond, cosmically inclined Stern as a kind of female Hendrix, and songs such as “Building a Body” and “Transparency Is the New Mystery” suggest a kinship. But it’s in her arranging savvy — placing multiple guitar tracks next to each other, popping them in and out of the aural widescreen — where Jimi can be felt. And the one-two punch of “Female Guitar Players Are the New Black” and “Gimmie” proves she hasn’t lost any of the headbanging, left-field indie snarl that has gained her a small but dedicated following. — Patrick Foster


Recommended tracks: “Gimmie,” “Nothing Left”


KLMNO


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THE CLASSICAL BEAT Post critic Anne Midgette offers her take on the classical music world at voices. washingtonpost.com/the-classical-beat.


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CLICK TRACK For more pop music news, reviews and features, visit ClickTrack, The Post’s pop music blog at blog.washingtonpost.com/clicktrack.


SINGLES FILE


A weekly playlist for the listener with a one-track mind


Chris Brown featuring Drake, Kanye West, T.I., Fabolous, Rick Ross and Andre 3000: “Deuces (Remix)” The latest stop on his Let’s Just Forget the Whole Thing Happened Tour: A Chris Brown remix so epic, so masterful, it’s almost possible to forget Chris Brown is on it.


The Secret Sisters featuring Jack White: “Big River” The Alabama duo, part-time signees to White’s Third Man label, team with the boss for a Johnny Cash cov- er equally influenced by the Andrews Sisters and Led Zeppelin.


Sleigh Bells: “Holly” This muddy, Ke$ha-evoking, hopelessly catchy track first appeared on a pre-“Treats” demo; slightly re- worked, it’s now a B-side.


Boobe featuring Raheem DeVaughn: “My Way” From the Department of Things We Wish Were Sina- tra Covers: The Oy Boyz mainstay enlists DeVaughn for this mid-tempo banger that’s pretty great, regard- less.


Gayngs: “By Your Side” The super mellow supergroup (fea- turing Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, among many oth- ers) essays the longest, irony- free Sade cover in the long his- tory of irony- free Sade cov- ers.


— Allison Stewart


HIS WAY: Raheem DeVaughn teams up with Boobe for a track.


DAYNA SMITH FOR THE WASHINGTON POST


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