Archive for the ‘compilation’ Category

Album Review: Various Artists — The Birth of Soul Jazz

Monday, May 20th, 2013

Early on into my jazz odyssey* of discovery, I found that although I very much enjoyed bop, swing, free and fusion, the style of jazz that resonated most for me was soul jazz. In my unschooled manner, I tried to articulate what exactly it was about soul jazz that made it work for me in a way that, say, Dixieland (trad jazz) often does not.

Reading a bit about how the various forms developed, I came to an initial conclusion that – while it made some sense to me – was wide of the mark. I characterized soul jazz as what happened when serious jazz players (often in the hard bop or West coast styles) decided they’d had enough of scrounging for gigs, and decided to go pop. They’d scale back the exploratory, improvisatory nature of their pieces in favor of tunes that were, to put it plainly, more accessible.

I’ve learned more since forming that early opinion. While there’s an element of truth to that description, in general the development of soul jazz wasn’t so cynical a phenomenon. In fact, as Charles Waring‘s delightfully concise and detailed liner notes for the new 2cd set The Birth of Soul Jazz explains, in fact the genre is based more on gospel forms. Specifically, the call-and-response nature of African-American “spirituals” and gospel, not the major-chord variety that influenced country and western music. The result of this hybrid adds back in some of the “heart” that some listeners find wanting in the more cerebral styles of jazz. Soul jazz, you can feel.

The heyday of soul jazz was relatively brief, but its influence was long lasting. As Waring explains, “the soul jazz movement lasted just over a decade, beginning in the late 50s and fading away at the dawn of the 70s.” I’d take some issue with the latter part of that thesis: as I’ve mentioned before, a viewing of most any of the (for their time) gritty television crime dramas of the 1970s will yield many examples of soul jazz. When Mannix goes into the smoky, seedy club to apply fisticuffs and extract information, the band isn’t playing rock’n'roll; they’re playing a catchy instrumental jazz. Soul jazz.

In any event, as its title suggests, The Birth of Soul Jazz focuses in on the early days of the phenomenon. Bringing together 23 tracks representing the best of the genre from roughly 1958-1962, this set works both as historical overview and incredibly tasty soundtrack for whatever you’re up to.

Perhaps owing to me more reissue-friendly laws existing in the UK, this set collects all of the giants of soul jazz; it’s difficult to imagine an American label being able to get all of the licensing necessary to compile the hits of the era, appearing as they did on major jazz labels like Blue Note, Prestige and Pacific Jazz.

All the big names are indeed here, and represented by some of their best-loved pieces. Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers‘ seminal 1968 reading of Bobby Timmons‘ “Moanin’” kicks things off, and the quality rarely falters over the next 157 minutes (yes, these are the full versions of these songs, sometimes ten-plus minutes; no cheesy edits here). Blakey’s splashy, flashy drumming gets things moving in style, and then the set goes on to showcase Horace Silver, The Cannonball Adderley Quintet, Hank Mobley, Lou Donaldson, Jimmy Smith, Les McCann, Herbie Hancock, Red Garland, Grant Green, Jimmy McGriff and a host of others.

Some time ago I created a Cannonball Adderley “station” on Pandora for home listening via my Blu-Ray player. I thumbs-downed any vocal tunes, and quickly ended up with a delightful playlist. Les McCann started popping up more and more often, so I made another station based around his style. That playlist quickly introduced me to nearly all of the artists whose work appears on this new The Birth of Soul Jazz set (I knew about Blakey and Jimmy Smith already). That McCann station is now one of my most oft-played selections when I’m at home (which is often). The thing is, The Birth of Soul Jazz is every bit as exciting, varied and enjoyable as that assortment. So for a collection of soul jazz that you can hold in your hand, The Birth of Soul Jazz simply can’t be beat. Essential for fans of the genre, and perhaps the best, most concise musical overview, it’s ideal for turning your friends onto this style of music.

* with apologies to Derek Smalls aka Harry Shearer.

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Album Review: Oscar Pettiford — Baden-Baden 1958/1959

Monday, May 13th, 2013

Not for the first time, Music Hound: Jazz has let me down. Jazz novitiate that I am, I was unfamiliar with the name Oscar Pettiford. So to that weighty tome I went, in hopes of gathering a bit of background to assist in my understanding of another in Jazzhaus‘ Lost Tapes series, Baden-Baden 1958/1959. Seeing as it’s jazz with which we’re concerning ourselves here, an old-school approach (turning to a reference book rather than an online resource) seemed appropriate. But there is no entry for Pettiford. (There’s no listing for Jutta Hipp in Music Hound: Jazz, either.)

Allmusic.com was far more helpful; while also mentioning Charles Mingus, its bio calls Pettiford the “top bassist of the 1945-1960 period.” Okay, good enough for me to explore further. Not counting compilations, there are some twenty albums by the bassist with his various combos and orchestras. Ulli Pfau‘s succinct bio of Pettiford graces the back cover of the LP version of Baden-Baden 1958/1959 (and the booklet accompanying the CD version).

Joined by some of his regular musicians plus a number of German players who turn up on other Jazzhaus archival recordings (among these tenor saxophonist Hans Koller), the bassist runs through an assortment of standards, originals and numbers from his accompanists. The standards include George Gershwin‘s “But Not for Me,” Duke Ellington‘s “Sophisticated Lady,” and Hoagy Carmichael‘s” The Nearness of You.” These studio recordings – taken from four dates Pettiford did in Germany, each with a different lineup – are rendered in flawless audio quality and show the facility with which Pettiford could lead his ensembles. From close-miked trios to scaled-down arrangements of big band numbers (most notably Helmut Brandt‘s “Atlantic”), the set is a delight.

One of the earliest musicians to introduce the cello into jazz, Pettiford brings that instrument out for “My Little Cello.” This number is available on a handful of other recordings, but all date from the months surrounding this particular Baden-Baden studio date of February 24, 1959.

Pettiford’s recording career under his own name began in 1954, but by the time of these recordings he had relocated to Europe, settling in Copenhagen. By 1960 he was dead, from injuries sustained in an auto accident. Though there are many other Pettiford albums, most of the songs cut on the Baden-Baden dates are tunes he never recorded elsewhere. (The CD version includes six tracks not on the LP version, including two live cuts that often figured into his live sets: the Pettiford original “All the Things You Are,” and Jerome Kern‘s “Blues in the Closet.”)

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Album Review: Various Artists — Drink a Toast to Innocence

Wednesday, May 1st, 2013

As far back as the 1980s, the great philosopher Huey Lewis proclaimed that it’s “hip to be square.” Good thing, that, because like many of my rock’n'roll fan contemporaries, I got my musical start buying albums (cassettes, really) by some of the soft-sounds purveyors of the early 70s: The Carpenters, Sonny and Cher, Jim Croce and the like.

For many years, it simply wasn’t cool to admit a fondness for such non-rocking things. It all began to change in the 1990s, amidst a flurry of self-consciously ironic mini-trends: the cocktail nation/exotica craze and all manner of tribute albums. The 1994 release If I Were a Carpenter featured updates/rethinks of much-loved songs by Karen and Richard, done by hot-in-the-moment contemporary artists.

But once that ironic stance subsided, things calmed down a bit and people began to admit a bit more freely that, yeah, some of this stuff is pretty good. As a result, artists like Ben Folds could freely admit inspiration by the likes of Burt Bacharach without being labeled as soft (though Folds did famously describe his music as “punk rock for sissies”).

In 2013, an impressive list of pop/powerpop artists contributed to a new compilation titled Drink a Toast to Innocence: A Tribute to Lite Rock. Drawing its title from a Dan Fogelberg lyric is the first clue that the songs on the set will be of the sort that blanketed AM radio back in the day.

Thankfully, the varied approaches employed by the artists aims for the middle ground. For the most part, these aren’t insipid, soft-rock retreads, and they’re not hard-rock bashers, either. The artists tend to look for the hooks and the melodies, and craft updated readings that highlight those qualities. The result is that – as rendered by Eytan MirskyRupert Holmes‘ “The Piña Colada Song” isn’t nearly as annoying as it once was. It’s actually pretty good, with a driving bass line and some nice electric guitar licks atop a gurgling organ. The Davenports‘ rocked-up “Just When I Needed You Most” feels a bit like Fountains of Wayne, and that’s always a good thing. Plasticsoul‘s “Sentimental Lady” plays it straight, quite similar in arrangement to both the Fleetwood Mac and Bob Welch versions.

Lannie Flowers‘ distinctive vocals are applied to an unorthodox arrangement on Orleans‘ “Dance With Me.” The result sounds like Flowers’ original material crossed with Mary Hopkin‘s “Those Were the Days.” Weird but successful, and awarded extra points for being the most out-of-the-box and inventive reading on this set.

Popdudes aren’t the first to cover Walter Egan‘s “Magnet and Steel.” Matthew Sweet contributed a version to the 90s soundtrack of Sabrina The Teenage Witch; Popdudes’ version is another played-straight reading. In fact quite a few of the artists on Drink a Toast to Innocence seem unburdened by any desire to re-imagine these songs: Joe Giddings‘ “Undercover Angel” funks things up a bit, but the breezy backing vocals ensure that the version would work fine on the soundtrack to another Brady Bunch film.

Mike Viola is among the best-known of the artists involved with this project; though he pens some fantastic original tunes of his own on solo albums (and as Candy Butchers), he’s best known for his lead vocal on the the title song from That Thing You Do! Here he takes on Robbie Dupree‘s “Steal Away,” layering a bunch of retro-sounding synthesizer lines; the result suggests what The Wonders might have sounded like circa 1977 had they stayed with Play-Tone.

Those analog synths are a highlight of Bleu‘s “Baby Come Back,” though the Leslie-effect guitar is prominent (it had to be, of course). The vocal harmonies are flawless, even as they deliver insipid lyrics (what, exactly, is “false bravado?”). This may be the strongest cover on the entire collection, though it can’t really be said to add anything new to the song.

People of a certain age may remember “Thank You for Being a Friend” as the theme song from The Golden Girls, but thankfully those of us who are a bit older recall Andrew Gold‘s original version instead. Brandon Schott‘s cover plays it close to the original arrangement (do you sense a pattern here?). The Sonic Executive Sessions turn in a lovely reading of Stephen Bishop’s “On and On,” and sidestep Bishop’s idiosyncratic pronunciation of the title lyrics; this is another album highlight, full of creamy vocal harmonies. But it’s up to Linus of Hollywood to turn in the winner of the bunch, a lite-powerpop cover of “More Than I Can Say,” originally by Leo Sayer. Shimmering guitar lines, a lilting beat and just enough grit in the electric guitars make this a delight. Greg Pope leans in an acoustic singer-songwriter direction to cover the late-period Poco tune “Crazy Love.” Wyatt Funderburk employs a similar approach on Michael Johnson‘s one-hit-wonder “Bluer Than Blue,” and it suits the song perfectly.

Vegas With Randolph know how to rock, but they dial it way back for a balladeering cover of Little River Band‘s “Cool Change.” Well, they do for the first minute or so; then they switch over to their trademark sound, and it works really well; ignore the lyrics and enjoy the dynamics of this winning cover. Seth Swirsky gamely (and effectively) tackles the falsetto vocal lines of Henry Gross‘ lovely ballad about a dog, “Shannon.”

Cliff Hillis‘ cover of “Shake It” improves on the original; you won’t be embarrassed if you’re caught listening to it. Noted music journalist and author Paul Myers hauls out the synthesizers for his interpretation of Michael Martin Murphey‘s “Wildfire” (what was it with all these 70s tunes about animals, anyway?). His intelligent use of the machines results in an organic reading that doesn’t feel at all synthetic. And his vocal harmonies – a hallmark of so many of the songs on this set – are impressive.

Sunshine on Mars don’t attempt to recreate Elvin Bishop‘s distinctive volume-pedal guitar tone on “Fooled Around and Fell in Love,” and the female lead vocal necessitates the changing of the lyric to “a million boys,” but otherwise it’s another relatively straight reading. Atlanta Rhythm Section‘s “So Into You” was right on the edge of the lite-rock genre (it rocked, a little), and Willie Wisely‘s cover takes it in yet another direction, with a vaguely salsa vibe. It works surprisingly well, conjuring mental images of sexy dancers.

An American Underdog take on Jay Ferguson‘s “Thunder Island,” and the result is a lot of fun, with the requisite distorted guitars and dynamics that were such an integral part of the original’s appeal.

Ambrosia‘s “How Much I Feel” gets a lovely if straight reading from Kyle Vincent; to be fair, the arrangement is what made this song to begin with, so perhaps re-imagining it wasn’t truly an option. Lisa Mychols is one of few female vocalists on the set; her almost-grunge, rocking cover of David Soul‘s “Don’t Give Up On Us” beats the hell out of the original, one of the most insipid tunes covered here.

A set like this wouldn’t be complete without a song based around a Fender Rhodes melody. So Throwback Suburbia‘s cover of Climax Blues Band‘s “I Love You” fits that bill. The slightly over-emoting vocal approach strikes just the right note for this crooning number.

David Myhr takes on one of the most challenging song here, 10cc‘s “Things We Do for Love.” His cover isn’t as transcendent as the original, but then, to be fair, few things are. And Mike Ruekberg‘s delightfully rocking “Believe it Or Not” somehow removes the cheesiness of the original, making the tune better than it was.

Kelly Jones turns in a country-pop version of England Dan and John Ford Coley‘s “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight.” It’s successful for what it is, but the arrangement – softer than the soft original – feels a bit out of place on this set. By contrast, Paul Bertolino subtly ups the rock-quotient on his cover of Firefall‘s Just Remember I Love You,” short-listed as one of the best readings on this 28-song collection.

Drink a Toast to Innocence: A Tribute to Lite Rock is available in a variety of formats, including (yay!) a 2LP vinyl set.

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Album Review: Nektar – Remember the Future

Friday, April 26th, 2013

Album reissues can be funny things. Not haha-funny, but perplexing-funny. Take, for example, the case of Nektar’s breakthrough 1973 LP Remember the Future. Their most commercially successful album, it ranks among their best and was released amidst a string of creative high-water-mark albums. It reached #19 on the Billboard album charts, and is a good exemplar of what we might call second-string progressive/hard rock of the era. I say second-string not because of any aesthetic shortcomings, but rather due to the fact that Remember the Future was released into a marketplace that included The Dark Side of the Moon, Houses of the Holy and Yessongs, to name but three.

But the album is fondly remembered, and clearly numerous record-company types believe there remains a market for it: according to allmusic.com, Remember the Future has been reissued on CD by at least nine(!) different labels since the start of the 21st century. And here’s where the perplexing part comes in: as recently as 2011, a tiny boutique label called It’s About Music reissued the album as part of its The Nektar Deluxe Editions series. A two-CD set, it featured the original album (it was two vinyl-side parts of a self-titled piece) plus a two-track live run-through of the entire album. (The latter’s date and venue is left as a mystery.) A second disc, subtitled “Vivo Niteroi,” documents a live Nektar concert from 2007 (with, it should be mentioned, two members from the 70s lineup: leader/guitarist Roye Albrighton and drummer Ron Howden). The second disc doesn’t really have anything to do with the first, but it’s a nice enough performance, surveying songs from throughout the band’s long history.

Yet in 2013 – less than twenty-four months later – Remember the Future has again been reissued, this time by Purple Pyramid, a label that (delightfully) revisits all manner of those second-string 70s releases (Captain Beyond, for example). Also a 2CD set, the contents of this release are quite different. The digipak set (a much nicer packaging than the It’s About Music release) includes the original album on the first disc; there is nothing in the liner notes suggesting that it’s a new remaster or anything such as that. The undated live version is not included, giving the disc a pretty-darn-short runtime (under 36 minutes). The second disc includes some radio edits of pieces from the album-long suite (Nektar was never a “singles band,” but these might have helped get their music on the radio.) And then the second disc features a set of music dubbed The Boston Tapes. What’s slightly strange is that this material had also been reissued in 2011, appended then to another It’s About Music release, Nektar’s A Tab in the Ocean. Pairing the 1970 demos – which sound quite unlike the band’s official canon – with Tab made some sense, seeing as A Tab in the Ocean was Nektar’s official debut; combining the two into a set showed how the band altered its style rather quickly.

I’ve covered The Boston Tapes as part of my original A Tab in the Ocean review from 2011. Remember the Future is quite good as well, though not quite up to the quality level of 1972′s Journey to the Centre of the Eye. Still, for fans of long-form, suite-type heard rock with elements of progressive rock (and even a bit of funk), Remember the Future is worth seeking out. And despite the confusing flurry of re-reissues, I would direct interested parties to this latest Purple Pyramid reissue first. It’s probably the easiest to find, the packaging is nice, and though the bonus material is somewhat unrelated, it’s very good. So until the next reissue offers up something different yet again, this is the one to get.

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Album Review: Curved Air – Airwaves

Monday, April 8th, 2013

Not to take anything away from the impressive achievements of The Police (their dubious 21st century reunion notwithstanding), but it’s long been a source of some amusement among rock historians to point out the band’s pedigree. Though they were (and remain) darlings of the so-called new wave movement of the late 1970s and early 80s, and despite the undeniable fact that they introduced reggae textures into rock music in a way few had done before, each of the trio had a musical background that might make new wave/punk purists squirm. Sting (neé Gordon Sumner) had previously played stand-up bass in a jazz band. Guitarist Andy Summers learned his craft alongside friend Robert Fripp, played soul jazz in Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band, psychedelic guitar in Dantalion’s Chariot (see “Madman Running Through the Fields” on Nuggets II: British Empire and Beyond) and then briefly psych-jazz in Soft Machine before playing rhythm & blues in a later lineup of The Animals. And master drummer Stewart Copeland – the band’s sole American member – had been a roadie for UK progressive outfit Curved Air, eventually playing drums for the group.

And though Copeland’s time with Curved Air was relatively brief – less than two years – it’s upon his high-profile name that Airwaves, a new collection of Curved Air BBC sessions builds its buzz. That’s not really necessary, as (a) while Copeland’s drumming is superb, it’s not the centerpiece of Curved Air’s music , (b) Copeland is on less than half of the tracks and (c) the music stands quite well on its own without the hype.

Three BBC radio sessions are the source for this thirteen-track archival release: a pair of dates from Top Gear in 1970-71, and a BBC Radio in Concert date from 1976 featuring Copeland on drums.

With a sound built around the piecing vocals of Sonja Kristina and the electric violin of Darryl Way, Cruved Air’s approach might be described as Jefferson Airplane meets Jean Luc Ponty (one of the few 1970s exponents of the electric violin).

As often as not, Way’s violin takes the role normally assigned to a lead guitarist in a rock band. That’s certainly true on “It Happened Today,” one of three tracks dating from the band’s first Top Gear sessions, before they even had a record deal. Kristina’s vocals are very much out front, displaying the strident, assured approach of a Grace Slick leavened by the British folk vibe of Annie Haslam of Renaissance. The band’s progressive sensibilities are offset by a winning sense of pop melodicism. The band’s manic approach on “Propositions” echoes East of Eden‘s work circa Mercator Projected; Curved Air’s style will also seem warmly familiar to fans of Jethro Tull, though sonic similarities between the two bands are actually quite few.

Some tasty synthesizer work courtesy of Francis Monkman (later of Sky and Phil Manzanera’s 801) enlivens “Young Mother in Style,” one of the 1971 tracks, and one of few to feature vocals by more than just Kristina.

For a nominally progressive outfit, Curved Air wasn’t afraid to craft short, poppy numbers like “Blind Man,” a sort of cross between ye-ye French pop and Soft Machine, all built upon some sprightly electric piano from Monkman. “Thinking on the Floor” almost presages punk, through in a decidedly prog manner (figure that one out; you’d have to hear it to understand). The folky blues of “Stretch” features some nice musical dialogue between Way’s violin and Mick Jacques‘ electric guitar.

“Stark Naked” kicks off the live concert portion of the disc, and the 1976 tracks featuring Copleand. Now with a changed lineup, Curved air featured a much more aggressive attack, though every bit as musical. They rock a lot harder here, with the bass taking a more active role as well, likely as a foil to Copeland’s precise, varied and assertive percussion work. “Stark Naked” was never released on a Curved Air studio album, and is one of few tracks to include a Coplend co-credit. A thrilling instrumental, it’s one of the strongest tracks on Airwaves.

The remaining tracks aren’t quite as exciting, suggesting that the band’s best days were behind them. Where the harder-rocking approach worked well on “Stark Naked,” on the other tunes, its effect is to strip some of the subtlety from the band’s style. “Woman on a One Night Stand” veers perilously close to bar band blooze, with Jacques’ ill-advised (but well-played) slide guitar. Kristina, in particular, seems to be trying too hard. The band redeems itself a bit with “Midnight Wire,” but did mid 70s progressive rock really need a song that sounded like The Band with a female vocalist? “Hot ‘N’ Bothered” is boogie band music, and the closing track “The Fool” reverts to a pandering let’s-get-the-audience-to-clap-along technique. (It does feature some guitar-violin interplay that harkens back to the band’s earlier days, though.)

Consumers should note that this set seems to contain the exact same material as a 1996 collection called Live at the BBC, though this new package features a new liner notes essay, a brief essay from Stewart Copeland, and notes a 2012 remastering. Sound quality, by the way, is superb.

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Album Review: Jeff Healey – As the Years Go Passing By

Wednesday, March 27th, 2013

Now here’s an interesting package. Compiled and released with the full cooperation, involvement and blessing of the family/estate of the late Jeff Healey, As the Years Go Passing By is a 3CD set bringing together three full concerts. Spaced almost evenly across an eleven-year span of time, these three shows – all done for broadcast in Germany – show the development of an imprtant artist. All of this material is previously unreleased.

The first show dates from 1989, and finds Healey fronting a stripped-down trio. His guitar playing is fiery, full of the energy one expects from a new-ish artist who feels he’s got something to prove. His playing and singing are assured, yet refreshingly free of cliche and any sort of rote approach. The night’s set list is a pleasing combination of original numbers from his 1988 debut album See the Light and some compelling covers. The sound quality is good, but bears hallmarks of compression for broadcast, and the bottom end is a little less well-defined than would be ideal. Still, fans of stinging blues guitar (in a rock context), especially those who enjoy such gunslingers as Johnny Winter and Stevie Ray Vaughan – will enjoy this one.

The second disc documents a 1995 concert. By this point the band had added a second guitarist, and Healey had moved in a more overtly commercial direction (i.e. more rock, less blues). While the playing is as impressive as ever, the overall feeling is a bit slicker, and the band seems a notch or two less hungry. But the song selection remains impressive: while it repeats four numbers form the first concert, this show adds inspired covers of a lesser-known Jimi Hendrix track (“Angel”), a heartfelt reading of The Beatles‘ “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and a terrific, unexpected cover of Stealers Wheel‘s “Stuck in the Middle.” And when Healey cuts loose on his axe during a spirited version of “As the Years Go Passing By,” it’s clear why his playing is held in such high regard. Despite the slightly more commercial bent of this second show, Healey’s originality and overall appeal remain undeniable.

By the time of the October 200 set that makes up the third disc of this set, Healey had moved even further in that commercial direction. Subsequent events suggest that he was finding that approach less than completely fulfilling: he would son release a string of jazz-oriented albums. But on this night, he’s still in fine form, albeit serving up a more meat’n'potatoes flavored set. There’s still blues, to be sure: “How Blue Can You Get” is a delightful blues workout that puts the spotlight on Healey’s soulful voice and subtle, soaring guitar prowess. Four songs are duplicated from the ’95 set, and even the most hardcore Healey fans might feel that three versions of “Roadhouse Blues” is a bit much, but since the goal here is more about presenting full shows, that’s merely a quibble. (Plus, the dual guitar work on the 2000 “Roadhouse Blues” is pretty impressive.)

Healey passed away in 2008. The liner notes include a message from Healey’s family encouraging fans to contribute to Daisy’s Eye Cancer Fund, an organization dedicated to helping those suffering from the malady that blinded Healey as a child.

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Album Review: Freddie King – The Complete King Federal Singles

Tuesday, March 26th, 2013

Freddie King was a big man with a big guitar sound. An important figure in the history of blues, he’s also one of the most accessible artists in the genre; his influence upon rock artists has been such that when rock-tuned ears hear him, it feels right, familiar somehow. His good-timing approach owed a lot to the jump blues of Louis Jordan, but his fiery electric guitar leads pushed things forward.

The arrangement style and production of his singles has something to do with that as well. From his first Federal single in 1960, “You’ve Got to Love Her With a Feeling” (#93 pop) he took on a bright, forceful style that dared listeners to ignore him. But it was that single’s b-side, “Have You Ever Loved a woman,” that would much later become well known to rock audiences through a cover by Derek & the Dominos (featuring King acolytes Eric Clapton and Duane Allman).

“Hideaway” (#5 r&b, #29 pop) became an instant classic upon its release, too, and quickly became a part of many blues bands’ set list. Most notable perhaps was the cover by John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers (with a young Clapton on lead guitar).

The liner notes for Real Gone Music’s excellent 2CD set The Complete King Federal Singles features a fabulous and lengthy liner note essay by Bill Dahl. Dahl goes to some length to point out (somewhat hilariously, though not in an intentional way) that a number of King’s best-loved songs were often pieced together from licks taken from other songs. But – and rightly so – Dahl never lets that discussion detract from King’s estimable importance.

The instrumental “San-Ho-Zay!” is a fun and memorable tune that easily transcends the blues genre; its undeniable crossover appeal gave King a hit on two charts: #4 r&b, and #47 pop.

Due to the arc most recording careers take, coupled with the chronological approach employed in collections such as this one, the set is front-loaded with hits. Though the collection spans King’s tenure on Syd Nathan‘s label (1960-67), the string of hits ended quickly, with “Christmas Tears” in 1961. But the quality music continued: another b-side, 1962′s “The Stumble” may be the greatest song King ever wrote (or sorta-wrote) and recorded. Though Peter Green would use much more distortion when he covered it a few years later (as lead guitarist for Mayall’s Bluesbreakers), King’s original is a thrill.

In bids for commercial acceptance, King (like so many other artists of the era) made some perhaps ill-advised stylistic leaps: “Do The President Twist” is a fun — if goofy — novelty with oddly thunderous bass guitar. But 1963′s “The Bossa Nova Watusi Twist” was actually a minor (#103 pop) hit, King’s last for Federal/King. But the great songs kept coming: “Driving Sideways” and “Someday, After Awhile (You’ll Be Sorry)” (both 1964) also became part of the Bluesbreakers’ set (those guys again!).

Presented in nice-n-loud crystal-clear audio, The Complete King Federal Singles belongs in the catalog of any blues lover, as well as anyone who digs the bluesier side of 60s rock’n'roll. Freddie King successfully bridged the two styles, while remaining true to the blues tradition. Neat trick, that.

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Album Review: Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective

Monday, March 25th, 2013

Seven CDs represents quite a lot of music. And all of the music on Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective was recorded in the space of six and half year years. The earliest tracks date from spring 1965, and the latest cuts were recorded in fall 1971. But the 129 tracks span an impressively wide stylistic range, making the case (if such a case really needed making) that Duane Allman was one of the great guitarists of his generation. As a band leader, jam/collaborator and/or session player, Allman never failed to bring a fresh and unique approach to the song at hand.

While Allman developed a signature style – especially on slide guitar – he was adept and bending his style in the direction other artists’s projects needed. The result (as showcased mostly on discs 2-5) was that Duane Allman seemed always to improve a session, but he could do so in a way that didn’t necessarily call attention to him. It’s dangerous to project ideas of personalty upon an artist who’s no longer with us, but there’s plenty of evidence on Skydog that Allman was not an egocentric player.

On some of the tracks, Allman’s just there doing his part, and he’s sometimes buried in the mix. But if one listens closely, there’s always something interesting to hear coming out of the man’s guitar.

Some of the earliest material Allman recorded has circulated among collectors, and some has seen official release before. But The Escorts (one of his earliest bands) are shown to be a pretty tight little unit. The Allman Joys leaned heavily in a Yardbirds-centric direction, but they did it convincingly: somehow the band manages to sound like they wrote the songs, as opposed to coming off like one of those awful “not the original artist” acts on so many cheap compilation LPs of the era. And the Hour Glass tracks show that Allman’s band belongs on any list of important Nuggets-era garage/psych bands.

As Allman moved into session work – he was a regular and popular fixture at the Muscle Shoals studios – his playing ability advanced, and the sheer breadth of his stylistic palette expanded in many directions. His work on covers (Clarence Carter‘s reading of The Doors‘ “Light My Fire,” Wilson Pickett‘s “Hey Jude” and Aretha Franklin‘s “The Weight” to name but three of many ace cuts) shows that be brought his sensibility to bear on these unique interpretations of well-known songs.

Equally at home on soulful blues numbers (Otis Rush, King Curtis), odd, near-novelty tunes (“Hand Jive” by The Duck and the Bear) and art-pop (Laura Nyro‘s “Beads of Sweat”), Allman was a man for all seasons.

Skydog isn’t a cheap set: it lists for well over $100. But for anyone who has more than a passing interest in Allman’s music and musicianship, there are countless reasons to justify the purchase. There’s a healthy amount of previously-unreleased material here. And because Duane played on so many disparate sessions, the odds are good that you won’t have large chunks of this material in your collection already. Moreover, there’s a minimum of crushingly-obvious selections here, even though somes song simply had to be included (Derek & the Dominos‘ “Layla,” Boz Scaggs‘ epic barnburner “Loan Me a Dime”). There’s also less Allman Brothers Band music than one might expect (less than twenty songs), and when it is there, it’s especially tasty.

And the packaging is nothing short of stunning. Housed in a sturdy box made to look like a guitar case (right down to the furry gold lining inside), the package uses no plastic (except the discs themselves, of course), instead protecting the CDs in printed paper sleeves. A lovely booklet (color covers, duotones inside) is filled with discographical information, photos and thoughtful essays. A “Skydog” decal and commemorative guitar pick are also nice little touches. But none of that would matter if the music wasn’t wonderful. And it most certainly is. After working one’s way through the exhaustive musical history that is Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective, listeners will surely come away with a couple of enduring thoughts. One, Allman sure did a lot of good work in the space of a short six years or so. And two, had he not lost his life, he doubtless would have gone on to do even more of similarly enduring quality.

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Album Review: Merle Haggard – The Complete ’60s Capitol Singles

Wednesday, March 6th, 2013

First it was Collectors’ Choice Music, and then when they shuttered their label, it was Real Gone Music. Now Omnivore – another boutique label run (in the best way) by crate-digging types – is following suit and putting together complete collections of a- and b-sides of 45rpm singles form an array of important artists. And while I rarely cover c&w, The Complete ’60s Capitol Singles by Merle Haggard is worthy of attention.

The #42 hit (on the country charts) “I’m Gonna Break Every Heart I Can” is classic country in every sense of the word, but it’s informed by an unmistakeable pop sensibility. It’s not cry-in-your-beer corny stuff; instead it’s got a sly humor that resulted in a sort of pop-country that appealed to the likes of The Beatles. Modern fans of artists like Junior Brown will find plenty to like in these sides, even if their tastes don’t normally extend to country and western sounds.

The production values are state-of-the-art, owing in part to the fact that – though these are all c&w tunes — they were recorded at Capitol’s Hollywood studios. As a result, the personnel (the CD provides excellent discographical and session data; Omnivore knows its audience) includes such esteemed and in-demand players as Glen Campbell, Jim Gordon, and James Burton. The tracks are polished without being slick, heartfelt without being cornpone.

Amusingly, the Haggard original “I Take a Lot of Pride in What I Am” sounds an awful lot like Glen Campbell’s “Gentle On My Mind,” a massive hit song released a year earlier; perhaps unsurprisingly, Campbell’s not on this track. One thinks if he had been, he might’ve said, “Uh, Merle?”

The b-sides are surprisingly strong, considering that the flip side of singles was long home for perfunctory, throwaway tracks. Haggard’s b-sides tend more toward conventional c&w weepers, but even these are treated with care and finesse. For example, “This Loneliness is Eating Me Alive” (the b-side of the #2 hit “I Threw Away the Rose”) features some tasty guitar licks throughout,courtesy of either Burton or Campbell; the song sounds like a hit.

The twenty-eight tracks on Haggard’s The Complete ’60s Capitol Singles were all cut within the mere time frame of five years, predating his later “outlaw” phase (though some of the song lyrics foreshadow that phase; see “Branded Man” and “Sing Me Back Home, both from the Summer of Love). The big hits are here: “Mama Tried (#1), “Okie From Muskogee (#1, and #41 pop), but the lesser-known tracks hold up nearly as well. A timeless collection that won’t curl the toes of non-c&w fans, this is an excellent entry point into Haggard’s 1960s output.

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Album Review: Gene Harris – The Three Sounds

Thursday, February 28th, 2013

The venerable Blue Note label has long been a trademark of quality; even if you’re not familiar with the artist or the recorded work, chances are that if it came out on Blue Note, it’s at least worth checking out. And that’s true for the pair of confusingly- and similarly-named albums released in the early 70s. Gene Harris / The Three Sounds (1971) and Gene Harris of the Three Sounds (1972) are soul jazz (and just-plain-jazz with (and without) vocals. Very much of their time, these LPs have aged well, despite being hard to locate for many years. Now reissued on Real Gone Music, these sixteen cuts of funky-soul and jazz goodness can be enjoyed by modern audiences.

Gene Harris‘ piano enlivens every one of these tracks, but don’t let the Three Sounds monicker fool you into thinking these cuts are just piano, bass and drums. There’s some (here’s that word again) funky guitar work, plus some tasty percussion to spice things up. Imagine a cross between some of the more soulful jazz pianists of the era (Herbie Hancock, to name one) and the kind of thing that Isaac Hayes did in his more uptempo moments, and you’ll have a flavor for The Three Sounds.

The vocals are fine – Harris is an expressive vocalist, and massive overdubs (as on “I’m Leaving”) create a Harris-chorus of sorts. But it’s on the instrumental numbers (such as “Your Love is too Much”) in which the band really gets into the deep groove. While the piano filigree on “Did You Think” is pretty amazing in its speed and complexity, the somewhat maudlin song doesn’t support it well enough. But the instrumental “Put On Train” again bridges that gap between jazz and Curtis Mayfield circa Super Fly. “You Got to Play the Game” aims for a slick Philly soul vibe, and is reasonably successful if a bit unabashedly commercial-sounding for this set.

The alternating on Gene Harris / The Three Sounds between vocal and instro numbers continues with the fun and groovy “What’s the Answer?” (not strictly an instrumental cut, but close enough). But then the group breaks the pattern and serves up another no-word cut, a thrillingly inspired cover of the Beatles‘ “Eleanor Rigby.” The album wraps up with “Hey Girl,” enlivened by some deft piano work and slick guitar work.

The sonic approach on the 1972 album – a Harris solo outing – is quite a bit different: the funk and soul are dialed way back in favor of a more straight jazz approach. “Django” kicks things off in a much more cocktail-lounge sort of manner. “Lean on Me” adds vibes to the arrangement but doesn’t offer a lot not present in Bill Withers‘ original. As a whole the ’72 LP aims for a more subdued approach, one that’s far less funky and more traditional. “A Day in the Life of a Fool (Manha De Carnaval)” veers perilously close to easy listening.

The oft-covered “John Brown’s Body” gets a tender piano-centric reading, but sadly it wouldn’t be out of place in an upscale hotel lobby bar. “Listen Here” revives the funkiness factor, and is a showcase for Harris’ piano plus some wah-wah guitar work. The brushwork and upright bass on “Emily” support Harris’ gentle and subtle piano work, but again, for fans of the previous disc, this might seem too pretty by half.

Perennial jazz standard “Killer Joe” gets a spirited reading from Harris and his players, and it’s among the disc’s finest pieces. The album wraps up with “C Jam Blues,” in which Harris’ foil is a very George Benson-ish (or Wes Montgomery-ish) guitar from the always-thrilling-yet-tasteful Cornell Dupree.

Pat Thomas‘ liner notes give background and take proper note of these two LPs’ status as favorites among crate diggers around the world.

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