20 Centuries Of Hits

20 Centuries of Hits

by Don Allred
March 17 - 23, 1999 Issue 11

20 Centuries of Hits
Rhino

The "Ancient" Greeks whose barely-B.C. bonus track kicks off 20 Centuries of
Hits sound like they might know their number's almost up. But gamely they
twang their pre-Miles/surf/Byrds modals for Apollo in shades, while singing
in somehow appropriate Spanish accents. Especially this one girl who keeps
almost inventing the Ventures' version of "The Lonely Bull," while occasionally
trilling a few notes right up through the roof of my heart. It's the
sweetest thing I've ever heard called a "drinking song," and she might be just tuning
up.
And now! Fast-forward past century-blocks of soulfully stuck-in-groove
Sisyphean monks, straight through Renaissance Hollywood and Alfred Deller Consort's Liège-Hangover
"Greensleeves," pausing to make a pass at Susan Reed's Stepfordish 17th-century "Barbara Allen."
Pete Seeger, still hip in the 18th, guides "St. James" away from melodrama. A guy
sings and thinks about a guy singing and thinking about seeing a guy dead; he
calls up his own stylish funeral cos he knows he done wrong ("Tell 'em to
bring some of them, swe-ee-t smellin' roses, so they won't smell me, as we go
riding along . . . ").

My kind of rehearsal: Death's stuck in a box, to be tapped and plucked (but
not too hard). A box on which Stephen Foster painted
"Old Folks at Home" in mythological sunshine, raised by Paul Robeson.
A box blown wide open by Aretha Franklin's "Amazing Grace."

An intensely "Stardust"ed Bing Crosby roams off, realizing Home's in his
Heart. So of course the "Louie Lou-I" guy drives his hoopty right through the
screen, "We nevah deevine how ah make it home." It's all good, all one (!) disc of
it— even those monks sometimes sound like they'd be singing on the street
corner, if not for the Plague, the Huns, and the Vows, I guess.

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