By Steve Weinstein
By Bryan Bierman
By Lindsey Rhoades
By Chaz Kangas
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Jena Ardell
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Katherine Turman
Cuckooland feels unfinished and maybe unfinishableits artwork is constructed from Wyatt's scribbled chord sheets and structural notes. (Like 1991's Dondestan, the title means "nowhere"; this time, it also means "country of invaders.") It's got some of Wyatt's most nuanced singing, and oodles of casual charmthe amateur trumpet playing is right on. It's also plagued by overcrowded or underfed arrangements, ooky sax and clarinet solos, and some of the most god-awful synthesizer presets ever. There's a lullaby (for a child born during the bombing of Baghdad) and a "Lullaloop," a solo piano version of Buddy Holly's "Raining in My Heart," one new song that samples another.
Wyatt tends to bond for life with certain musicians, and a lot of Cuckooland's best moments come from his newest foil, New Yorker Karen Mantler. The daughter of his longtime collaborators Carla Bley and Michael Mantler, she's made some wonderful, barely heard albums of her own (hunt down 1996's Farewell). Mantler sings three of her old songs with him, as well as A.C. Jobim's "Insensatez"; he plays a "Karenotron" that samples her vowels. Her songs have a ratio of whimsy to despair that's the inverse of Wyatt's, and her voice is a deadpan version of his, with the same sort of flawed purity.
Solar Flares Burn for You
The patchwork Solar Flares Burn for You is, oddly, more focused: radio sessions and an experimental film soundtrack from 30 years ago, plus three recent home recordings. It's mostly sketches toward later collaborations, potential or actualnot demos, as such (other than "The Verb," which is probably the first song to cite Noam Chomsky as a linguist), but not-yet-fixed forms. The drone-and-loop film soundtrack pulses like an artery, and evolved into a prog-jazz jam on 1975's Ruth Is Stranger Than Richard. Again, one new song samples another, which in turn is Wyatt tootling a cornet over a loop by Hugh Hopper, his occasional bandmate of 40 years' standing.
The highlight of Solar Flares is also one of the peaks of Wyatt's career: a heartstopping solo BBC session from 1974, part of his "comeback" after an accident that left him permanently wheelchair-bound. The difference between those performances and a set recorded with Francis Monkman two years earlier is the difference between a promising goofball and a fully arrived artist. In the 1972 tracks, Wyatt's a snarky show-off, at home in his own skin, singing Danny Kaye's "Little Child" in funny voices and snickering about arts council grants. By 1974's "Sea Song" and "Alifib," he's a foam-flecked ghost, lost and found again. He covers "I'm a Believer" as a skeptic's explanation, in all seriousness, of how love has actually saved him. He doesn't belong in the world where he finds himself, but he couldn't leave it if he tried.