feature photo: Ebru Yildiz
During the height of the Covid apocalypse in the spring of 2020, Marc Ribot’s creative fire burned as hot as it usually does and he felt the time was right to reconvene his Ceramic Dog band for their first album in three years. Recording all this at bassist Shahzad Ismaily’s studio, the sessions were held without the musicians even seeing each other.
But one thing is always true with this trio: always expect the unexpected.
Hope doesn’t dwell at all in the in dystopian uncertainty of that medically catastrophic time, but more of the dystopian uncertainty of the larger period we’re in. The theme of Hope is the usual stage that follows the firebrand political advocacy of YRU Still here and honestly, all prior Ceramic Dog albums. As the drummer Ches Smith observed, “This record, versus the last one, has more of the effects of political burnout.”
Without raising his voice, Ribot’s sense of frustration and resignation comes through on “B-Flat Ontology” where he takes a viciously sarcastic (and depressing) look at artists of all stripes today in a bleak rendering to match the narrative. “The Activist” is the loudmouthed angry citizen complaining wantonly about society’s ills real or imagined but doing nothing else about them.
With offhand indifference, Ceramic Dog pulls in reggae, hip hop and ska for “Nickelodeon,” and “Wanna” sports cyberpunk funky strutting fronted by Marc Ribot’s blues-imbued rhythm guitar and a slightly bent lead guitar.
Ribot’s drops cool jazz octaves on “Bertha the Cool” while Ismaily and Smith lay down a tough groove. Darius Jones’ furious sax adds the chaos to the otherwise Ennio Morricone-styled “They Met In The Middle,” as Ribot narrates his semi-sensical lines in a song that might have also been at home on a Soul Coughing record.
“The Long Goodbye” is indeed long, ten minutes, a straight-up rock instrumental that Ribot could have used to toss out chunks of chops but instead goes for feel and passion (that’s what real rock ‘n’ roll is about, isn’t it?), and Jones joins in as the fervor builds and releases. That’s followed by an even lengthier non-vocal tune, “Maple Leaf Rage,” a parched and angular song by contrast, leaving spaces to expose Smith’s little scintillating drum moves, then kicks into rage for the second half where Ribot goes off the hook.
Originally, this album was going to be called Better Luck Next Time, which is maybe more representative of the overall message contained within. But the long-term mission of ridiculously good musicians not taking themselves too seriously while delivering serious messages with tongues in cheeks remains as on point as ever. And it’s a deliriously fun listen.
Hope is on sale now, courtesy of Northern Spy.
