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What to get the cool kid who already has a Ramones shirt? Why, a Ramones CD, of course. It sounds bizarre — who said the Ramones needed to be kiddified anyway? — but it's hard to top the talent lineup for sheer jawdropping power: Queens of the Stone Age bassist/singer Nick Olivieri, The Donnas frontwoman Brett Anderson (aka Donna A.), Pennywise singer Jack Lindberg, and Jack Grisham, singer for L.A. hardcore legends TSOL, among other surprises. Either these folks really needed the money, or they needed something to play at their kids' birthday parties. I'm guessing both. — Sarah Hepola
A while back, drunk and feeling maudlin, I wandered into another room at a party, and began to download Raffi songs. Raffi, the Hawaiian-shirted, preternaturally gentle singer of songs for children, was a towering figure in my early history, and as the first, bouncy strains of "Baby Beluga" and "All I Really Need" began to trickle from the tiny speakers of my iBook, I began to weep. All I really need/ Is a song in my heart/ Food in my belly/ Love in my family . . .
Raffi, at fifty-eight, is still going strong, recording, writing, and devoting
himself to a principle he has termed Child Honouring, a movement that, according
to his website, seeks to create a humane and sustainable world by addressing
the needs of the very young. And while his latest album may have songs with a
more specifically delineated message than in years past ("Salaam, Shalom, Side
by Side" and "Song for the Dalai Lama"), that message has remained unchanged ever since his 1976 album Singable
Songs for the Very Young. Raffi wishes nothing
but love, peace, and happiness for your family and for all the families in the
world.
While I have many favorites from the Raffi catalogue (with a special focus
on the years 1982-1986, when I was very young), from the silly world play
of "Apples
and Bananas" ("I like to eet, eet, eet, eeples and beneenees") to the unabashed
multiculturalism of the Caribbean flavored "Tingalayo" and the French "Y
a un rat/Sur le pont d'Avignon" best of all is the heartbreakingly simple "Like
Me and You" from the 1985 album One Light, One Sun. Raffi sings the names of
children from all over the world ("Ahmed lives in Egypt/Moshe lives in Israel/Bruce
lives in Australia") before concluding, softly, "each one is just like the other . . . a
very special son or daughter, a lot like you and me." For any parent questioning
the wisdom of bringing a child into the world at a time when the divisions
between people seem so great, there's your answer, in language so
simple only
a child can understand it. — Rachel
Shukert
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Playing lullaby renditions of Nirvana for your pre-verbal children may not make them Cobain fans for life — but chances are they'll feel inexplicably nurtured and comforted whenever they hear "All Apologies." If that sounds like a desirable end, read on. The Nirvana album is one of several dozen titles in the Rockabye Baby! collection, all of which contain soothing, glockenspiel-heavy renditions of beloved rock songs. Anyone with a healthy sense of irony is bound to appreciate the concept, but is the music itself any good? The answer is, duh, of course it's good; it was written by rock's greatest songwriters. The transformation of Led Zeppelin songs into lullabyes highlights the lilting, arpeggiated melodies of Page and Plant, while bands like The Cure and Radiohead transition naturally into dreamy instrumentals. One word of caution to metalhead parents: Metallica songs played on glockenspiel sound downright sinister. — Gwynne Watkins
A while back, drunk and feeling maudlin, I wandered into another room at a party, and began to download Raffi songs. Raffi, the Hawaiian-shirted, preternaturally gentle singer of songs for children, was a towering figure in my early history, and as the first, bouncy strains of "Baby Beluga" and "All I Really Need" began to trickle from the tiny speakers of my iBook, I began to weep. All I really need/ Is a song in my heart/ Food in my belly/ Love in my family . . .
Raffi, at fifty-eight, is still going strong, recording, writing, and devoting
himself to a principle he has termed Child Honouring, a movement that, according
to his website, seeks to create a humane and sustainable world by addressing
the needs of the very young. And while his latest album may have songs with a
more specifically delineated message than in years past ("Salaam, Shalom, Side
by Side" and "Song for the Dalai Lama"), that message has remained unchanged ever since his 1976 album Singable
Songs for the Very Young. Raffi wishes nothing
but love, peace, and happiness for your family and for all the families in the
world.
While I have many favorites from the Raffi catalogue (with a special focus
on the years 1982-1986, when I was very young), from the silly world play
of "Apples
and Bananas" ("I like to eet, eet, eet, eeples and beneenees") to the unabashed
multiculturalism of the Caribbean flavored "Tingalayo" and the French "Y
a un rat/Sur le pont d'Avignon" best of all is the heartbreakingly simple "Like
Me and You" from the 1985 album One Light, One Sun. Raffi sings the names of
children from all over the world ("Ahmed lives in Egypt/Moshe lives in Israel/Bruce
lives in Australia") before concluding, softly, "each one is just like the other . . . a
very special son or daughter, a lot like you and me." For any parent questioning
the wisdom of bringing a child into the world at a time when the divisions
between people seem so great, there's your answer, in language so
simple only
a child can understand it. — Rachel
Shukert
click to close
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A while back, drunk and feeling maudlin, I wandered into another room at a party, and began to download Raffi songs. Raffi, the Hawaiian-shirted, preternaturally gentle singer of songs for children, was a towering figure in my early history, and as the first, bouncy strains of "Baby Beluga" and "All I Really Need" began to trickle from the tiny speakers of my iBook, I began to weep. All I really need/ Is a song in my heart/ Food in my belly/ Love in my family . . .
Raffi, at fifty-eight, is still going strong, recording, writing, and devoting
himself to a principle he has termed Child Honouring, a movement that, according
to his website, seeks to create a humane and sustainable world by addressing
the needs of the very young. And while his latest album may have songs with a
more specifically delineated message than in years past ("Salaam, Shalom, Side
by Side" and "Song for the Dalai Lama"), that message has remained unchanged ever since his 1976 album Singable
Songs for the Very Young. Raffi wishes nothing
but love, peace, and happiness for your family and for all the families in the
world.
...read more
A while back, drunk and feeling maudlin, I wandered into another room at a party, and began to download Raffi songs. Raffi, the Hawaiian-shirted, preternaturally gentle singer of songs for children, was a towering figure in my early history, and as the first, bouncy strains of "Baby Beluga" and "All I Really Need" began to trickle from the tiny speakers of my iBook, I began to weep. All I really need/ Is a song in my heart/ Food in my belly/ Love in my family . . .
Raffi, at fifty-eight, is still going strong, recording, writing, and devoting
himself to a principle he has termed Child Honouring, a movement that, according
to his website, seeks to create a humane and sustainable world by addressing
the needs of the very young. And while his latest album may have songs with a
more specifically delineated message than in years past ("Salaam, Shalom, Side
by Side" and "Song for the Dalai Lama"), that message has remained unchanged ever since his 1976 album Singable
Songs for the Very Young. Raffi wishes nothing
but love, peace, and happiness for your family and for all the families in the
world.
While I have many favorites from the Raffi catalogue (with a special focus
on the years 1982-1986, when I was very young), from the silly world play
of "Apples
and Bananas" ("I like to eet, eet, eet, eeples and beneenees") to the unabashed
multiculturalism of the Caribbean flavored "Tingalayo" and the French "Y
a un rat/Sur le pont d'Avignon" best of all is the heartbreakingly simple "Like
Me and You" from the 1985 album One Light, One Sun. Raffi sings the names of
children from all over the world ("Ahmed lives in Egypt/Moshe lives in Israel/Bruce
lives in Australia") before concluding, softly, "each one is just like the other . . . a
very special son or daughter, a lot like you and me." For any parent questioning
the wisdom of bringing a child into the world at a time when the divisions
between people seem so great, there's your answer, in language so
simple only
a child can understand it. — Rachel
Shukert
click to close
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It's easy to dismiss the mega-selling Kidz Bop — which adds children's voices to mainstream radio hits — as a mere marketing ploy. That would discount how much fun this series can be for young ones and, sometimes, adults. No less an indie authority than Pitchfork Media praised the Kidz Bop "Since U Been Gone" video in their "100 Awesome Music Videos" with this rave: "At the 2:37 mark is the greatest moment in the history of music videos." (Spoiler alert: It involves a standing split, an under-10 mosh pit, and a guitarist in a tiger costume.) A Very Merry Kidz Bop includes such unlikely barn-burners as "All I Want for Christmas Is You" and "Little Drummer Boy," but you may be surprised how feverishly your kids will sing along. — Sarah Hepola |
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The world of kids' music is populated with earnest, soothing singers. So it's a pleasant jolt when New Orleans Playground opens with Clifton Chenier's weathered bass voice growling about a chicken shack. The latest from Putomayo Kids (whose cover art practically screams "inoffensive multicultural fun!"), this album is a surprisingly tight set of eleven tracks by prominent New Orleans musicians. Shortened versions of Fats Domino's "Whole Lotta Lovin'" and Lee Dorsey's "Ya Ya" will get kids dancing, while "Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner" — in which a children's chorus tries to convince Kermit Ruffins that they can subsist on candy alone — may inspire some kid-parent singalong duets. The album's most distinct track (and its longest, at a none-too-whopping four minutes) is "They All Ask'd For You" by seminal jazz-funk band The Meters. It's a simple nursery rhyme energized by a live, improv-heavy performance, during which the band shouts out the names of their favorite Cajun foods ("Ribs and fish drippings!") for no apparent reason. The whole song comes off like a giddy late-night jam session. And that corresponds with the album's overall take on New Orleans music: it's as fun to make as it is to listen to. — Gwynne Watkins
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