caesar bach. caeser bach. review by alan haber. buhdge

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Caesar Bach Caesar Bach Danyolo (2004) In the pantheon of musicians crazy enough to attempt an album's worth of songs whose jumping-off points include freakish, ever-changing time signatures (within the same song, yet); cookie-cutter remnants of traditional verse-chorus song structure; and, last but certainly not least, an almost total disregard for structure of any kind, Caeser Bach is a wunderkind extraordinaire, a one-of-a-kind singer-songwriter who certainly plays by his own rules, if he plays by any at all, and comes up with the goods each and every time. That Bach, a textbook-versatile musical magician with the prototypical singular vision, has come up with such an accessible, highly-enjoyable mess (and I mean mess in a good way) will come as no surprise to those of you with a penchant for surprising music, who will give anything a chance. You risk takers, you're in for quite a treat. The rest of you...well, you too. Studio whiz Otto D'Agnolo, obviously a Bach confidant (or is he more...?), has produced and engineered one hell of a record that incorporates enough styles to choke a CD player's laser beam. Bach is hardly what you'd call a linear songwriter (well, not most of the time, anyway), but he makes his mishmash approach work. This is exhilarating music for fans of just about any genre you'd care to name. This is music that dares you to listen, to pay close attention, and for that you will be rewarded in kind. The first wild and wooly track, "Unwind Me," incorporates elements of the poppier side of Prince (in the harmony vocals), rock, hip-hop and, in some of the background vocals, the trippier aspects of the Beatles (think "Tomorrow Never Knows"). There's also the sound of a telephone ringing, as Bach makes his way through this infectious, sweetly-cacophonous song. "Why Should I Care" is an aggressive slice of hard rock, sweetened with poppy lead and background vocals and a tender melody (especially in the middle-eight). Bach calls this song his "letter to John Lennon." It's certainly a Fabs homage of sorts, and a pretty damned good one at that (don't blink or you'll miss the quick, sly allusion to a musical moment on the Beatles' Let It Be album). "I'm Gonna Make You Remember Me" might as well be the name of this album, because you're not likely to forget it. "I Am Your Problem" might be another good moniker (this particular song unravels in both 11/4 and 4/4, for you musician types). Either way, at this point in the record, you're hooked, just in time to come face to face with about as straight-ahead a song as you're likely to encounter in Bachville. "Put It In the Closet" boasts a beautiful, pretty melody, and as hooky a chorus as you're likely to find. The slide guitar lines could just as well have been flown in from a Lynyrd Skynyrd record, but that's the Bach experience for you, tripping over cool stuff when you least expect it. The other, rather traditional-sounding tune, "All I Ever Wanted," is a lullaby to Bach's daughter; the pedal steel accents are well-placed and most effective. So what kind of musician is Caeser Bach? He sort of gives the answer, however cryptically, in the funny, time signature-crazed "Rappers Can't Smile." "I'm not a rapper/Rappers can't smile/I'm not a rocker/Wearin' all torn up clothes/I'm not a pop star/Pop stars are porn stars/Pretty much all they're good for," Bach sings, tongue in cheek, against a rocking track, but, really, he's a little bit of all of them, a kind of golem, a Pinocchio among musicians, starting as an artificial thing and ending up as a living, breathing wild man with a guitar, piano, bass, and the desire to do something different. Something cool. Rule breaker, risk taker, and music maker, Caeser Bach is now, and now or later, you're going to succumb to his ever-changing charms. Alan Haber May 1, 2005
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Caesar Bach
Caesar Bach
Danyolo (2004)

caeser bach's caesar bach In the pantheon of musicians crazy enough to attempt an album's worth of songs whose jumping-off points include freakish, ever-changing time signatures (within the same song, yet); cookie-cutter remnants of traditional verse-chorus song structure; and, last but certainly not least, an almost total disregard for structure of any kind, Caeser Bach is a wunderkind extraordinaire, a one-of-a-kind singer-songwriter who certainly plays by his own rules, if he plays by any at all, and comes up with the goods each and every time.

That Bach, a textbook-versatile musical magician with the prototypical singular vision, has come up with such an accessible, highly-enjoyable mess (and I mean mess in a good way) will come as no surprise to those of you with a penchant for surprising music, who will give anything a chance. You risk takers, you're in for quite a treat. The rest of you...well, you too.

Studio whiz Otto D'Agnolo, obviously a Bach confidant (or is he more...?), has produced and engineered one hell of a record that incorporates enough styles to choke a CD player's laser beam. Bach is hardly what you'd call a linear songwriter (well, not most of the time, anyway), but he makes his mishmash approach work. This is exhilarating music for fans of just about any genre you'd care to name. This is music that dares you to listen, to pay close attention, and for that you will be rewarded in kind.

The first wild and wooly track, "Unwind Me," incorporates elements of the poppier side of Prince (in the harmony vocals), rock, hip-hop and, in some of the background vocals, the trippier aspects of the Beatles (think "Tomorrow Never Knows"). There's also the sound of a telephone ringing, as Bach makes his way through this infectious, sweetly-cacophonous song. "Why Should I Care" is an aggressive slice of hard rock, sweetened with poppy lead and background vocals and a tender melody (especially in the middle-eight). Bach calls this song his "letter to John Lennon." It's certainly a Fabs homage of sorts, and a pretty damned good one at that (don't blink or you'll miss the quick, sly allusion to a musical moment on the Beatles' Let It Be album).

"I'm Gonna Make You Remember Me" might as well be the name of this album, because you're not likely to forget it. "I Am Your Problem" might be another good moniker (this particular song unravels in both 11/4 and 4/4, for you musician types). Either way, at this point in the record, you're hooked, just in time to come face to face with about as straight-ahead a song as you're likely to encounter in Bachville. "Put It In the Closet" boasts a beautiful, pretty melody, and as hooky a chorus as you're likely to find. The slide guitar lines could just as well have been flown in from a Lynyrd Skynyrd record, but that's the Bach experience for you, tripping over cool stuff when you least expect it. The other, rather traditional-sounding tune, "All I Ever Wanted," is a lullaby to Bach's daughter; the pedal steel accents are well-placed and most effective.

So what kind of musician is Caeser Bach? He sort of gives the answer, however cryptically, in the funny, time signature-crazed "Rappers Can't Smile." "I'm not a rapper/Rappers can't smile/I'm not a rocker/Wearin' all torn up clothes/I'm not a pop star/Pop stars are porn stars/Pretty much all they're good for," Bach sings, tongue in cheek, against a rocking track, but, really, he's a little bit of all of them, a kind of golem, a Pinocchio among musicians, starting as an artificial thing and ending up as a living, breathing wild man with a guitar, piano, bass, and the desire to do something different. Something cool.

Rule breaker, risk taker, and music maker, Caeser Bach is now, and now or later, you're going to succumb to his ever-changing charms.

Alan Haber
May 1, 2005