Archive for the ‘rawk’ Category

Hundred Word Reviews: Vinyl Roundup for May 2013

Wednesday, May 22nd, 2013

Here’s another installment in my occasional series of capsule reviews; this time ’round I’m focusing on vinyl releases. My self-imposed limit for this particular exercise is 100 words on each album.

Hoff EnsembleQuiet Winter Night
It’s subtitled “An acoustic jazz project,” so don’t look for any Fender Rhodes or vibraphone. In fact, to my ears, it’s a bit of a stretch to classify this twelve-song LP jazz. Adult pop is more like it; with gentle textures that would please listeners who enjoyed the quieter moments on Sting‘s Ten Summoner’s Tales, it’s a low key, classy outing. Flawlessly recorded in a church in Norway, the six-piece ensemble (guitar, piano, percussion, upright bass, trumpet, fiddle and, um, “nyckelharpa”) is fronted by an assortment of six solo vocalists (mostly females) on most of the lovely tunes.


JT Habersaat & the Altercation Punk Comedy TourHostile Corporate Takeover
Comedy albums are an odd duck; no matter how great they might be, they rarely hold up to (nor warrant) repeated listening. That said, this collection – featuring stand up routines from five different performers – is entertaining. Some of the material borders on the offensive/misogynist, but this is small-club stand-up we’re talking about, not Las Vegas or the Catskills. Oddly, the best bits aren’t especially roaringly funny; instead, Mike Wiede‘s two-part “Bruce Story” is warm and real, and does elicit some genuine chuckles. The other four featured artists are best described as hit-or-miss, but definitely still worth hearing.


Marshall CrenshawStranger and Stranger (10” EP)
Maybe not forever, but for the time being Marshall Crenshaw’s approach to new music is via three-song EPs rather than full albums. The upside of this for artist and listener is immediacy: shorter time between releases. I discussed the project recently with Crenshaw in an interview, one of several I’ve done. Here, the man’s reliable sense of melody and arrangement serves him well on the breezy title tune (with great Crenshaw guitar solo) that finds him atypically singing in his upper register. A lovely, straight Bacharach/David cover (“Close to You”) and reinvented solo “Maryanne” round out this must-have platter.


R. Stevie Moore – “I Missed July” b/w “Trade My Heart for Your Parts” (7” single)
Moore has no peer in music; that doesn’t mean that you’ll enjoy him, as he always charts his own idiosyncratic path. He can be irresistibly tuneful on a par with the greatest names, or weird enough to frighten Residents fans. Asked to provide two songs for a single release on the indie label Sweaters & Pearls, he selected one from 1978 and another from 1994 for this red vinyl. The a-side shows his cracked approach to pop; it’s a sort of jangly, lo-fi Beatles-by-way-of-Todd-Rundgren, yet it sounds like no one but RSM. The flip is Jimmy Buffett meets XTC. Brilliant.

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Album Review: Blue Öyster Cult — Imaginos

Friday, May 17th, 2013

Imaginos has a tortured history. The eleventh studio album released by Blue Öyster Cult (they had by this time released no less than three live albums), Imaginos was comprised of material that had been around for quite some time. Way back in the 1960s when most of the band were together in an outfit called Stalk-Forrest Group, they recorded the original version “Gil Blanco County,” one of the better tunes in this set. And “Astronomy” (yet another Imaginos highlight) first appeared on 1974′s BÖC album Secret Treaties.

But drummer Albert Bouchard – working with BÖC’s sometime producer Sandy Pearlman – had a project of his own gestating in the background for years called Imaginos, and these two aforementioned songs somehow fit into the narrative, a story that is (maybe) about a Zelig-like character who pops up at notable events throughout history. (The Imaginos story line is both thin and impenetrable; just enjoy the music.) In fact Bouchard cut demos of the entire project (plus a couple songs that didn’t make it onto the finished album) sometime in the early-to-mid 1980s.

After toiling as a very successful live act who didn’t do quite as well with album sales, BÖC had hit the big time with 1981′s Fire of Unknown Origin, with its hits “Burnin’ for you” and the much-loved deep cut “Joan Crawford.” But in many ways Fire of Unknown Origin was a last gasp: it was followed by the band’s third live album in seven years (Extraterrestrial Live) and two desultory albums (1983′s The Revolution by Night and 1986′s Club Ninja), both of which found the personnel thinning out. By Club Ninja, only three of the band’s core members remained (vocalist Eric Bloom, bassist Joe Bouchard and Donald “Buck Dharma” Roeser).

So in a let’s-get-the-band-back-together effort worthy of This is Spinal Tap‘s third reel, producer Pearlman and departed drummer Albert Bouchard enlisted the aid of the three remaining members plus returning keyboard player Allen Lanier. But buy the time of the official Imaginos sessions, much of the work had been done. As a result, the credits for the 1988 album read like a who’s who of 80s sessioners: bassist Kenny Aaronson, keyboardist Tommy Zvoncheck, ace guitarist Joe Satriani, and several others. In fact The DoorsRobbie Krieger lends lead guitar to two tracks, “Blue Öyster Cult” and “Magna of Illusion.” So in some ways, though Imaginos is presented and positioned as a BÖC album (and sounds like one), in a sense it’s more of a Bouchard solo outing with help from his friends. In fact, the finished tracks – with the exception of the vocals – sound quite a lot like the unreleased demo tape that circulates among collectors (cough, cough). With the exception of some incidental music done for a film soundtrack, Imaginos would be the last BÖC album of new (sic) material for a decade; 1998′s Heaven Forbid features three of the core members, but neither of the Bouchard brothers; neither would return.

Better than its convoluted history might lead you to expect, Imaginos doesn’t have the hooky staying power of the band’s prime-era material, but it’s a worthwhile outing, one that has gone largely unheard in the years since its release. Reaching only #122 on the Billboard charts at the time of its release, the album deserved better. The 2013 reissue of Imaginos on Real Gone Music presents the original album (no bonus tracks) plus a helpful essay by Scott Schinder. Tastes were changing by the late 1980s, and BÖC’s brand of intelligent, hooky, smart-ass metal was (briefly) falling out of commercial favor. But removed from the context of its time and considered on its own musical merits, it’s sure to please those who enjoy the band’s more well-known material.

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Album Review: Donovan’s Brain – Turned Up Later

Tuesday, May 14th, 2013

There’s a kind of powerpop that steers well clear of the candy-ass end of the spectrum, yet manages to avoid macho, posturing cockrock-iness. That sweet spot is where Donovan’s Brain lives. Just when you think every good riff has been used, here they come with a menacing bass line figure around which they build the opening track on their latest, Turned Up Later. And true, that bass figure on “Take Me With You When You Go” may in fact have been used before – okay, maybe a few thousand times, if we’re honest about it – but here it feels fresh and new.

But at their core, Donovan’s Brain aren’t a powerpop band at all: that label is far too limiting for them. Decidedly retro, yet in a more modern/classicist, Tom Petty sort of way, they are equally at home with windmill guitar figures and rocking guitar solos as they are with laid-back psychedelic excursions.

To wit: the band shifts gears completely for “As the Crows Fly,” which feels like a cross between Their Satanic Majesties Request era Rolling Stones (note: that’s a compliment; it’s my favorite Stones LP) and 80s paisley underground heroes Rain Parade. And this is one band that understands the conventions of a pop song: most of the tracks on Turned Up Later fade out long before they get overly familiar.

Swooshy, phase shifted guitars and Mellotron are among the highlights of “It’s All Right With Me.” In fact the mighty Mellotron figures prominently on a number of the tracks by this supergroup-of-sorts. I don’t use that term lightly: the personnel includes Deniz Tek (Radio Birdman), Bobby Sutliff (Windbreakers), Ron Sanchez, and Matt Piucci of the aforementioned Rain Parade, among other notables. That Donovan’s Brain features tracks by no less than five composers ensures that it’s a varied offering, yet the tracks hold together as a cohesive whole. The baroque-psych textures of “My Own Skin” evoke memories of both Brian Jones and The Verve (who, you may recall, famously nicked the Stones awhile back). And this is done without any sort of nicking.

That Mellotron rears its (tape) head again on Sanchez’s “Small Circles,” which filters The Moody Blues through a waltz-tempo melody. But then the powerpop approach returns for a Byrdsy rave (complete with oohs) on “Restless Nights, Many Dreams.” The dreamy “Cardboard Army” illustrates that the band understands that a Mellotron has more than one built-in sound (it has three, in fact). Some synth layered atop the ‘Tron lines makes for a magic carpet ride.

That slow, spaced-out vibe is continued on “Manager of Time,” which is vaguely reminiscent of The Beatles‘ “Flying” (albeit with lyrics). Sutliff’s “Morning Side Dream” conjures that immortal AM radio wistful sunshine pop feel, and the result feels like a hit; Sanchez’s bursts of electric lead guitar make a great tune even better.

The doomy tones of “Red Wing Spy” recall The Move; the band pull out all the stops – and toss in all the instruments – for this one, and do so effectively. Listen closely and you’ll even hear some vibraphone amidst the sonic swirl. “Fulcrum” is timeless, tuneful pop that fits nicely amidst the other songs, brightening the mood a bit as well. Turned Up Later‘s dozen tunes are wrapped up with “In Search of Connie Companion,” a warbly, watery, lysergic trip through the sixties. Ric Parnell‘s tom-centric drumming specifically evokes the fadeout of “Strawberry Fields Forever.”

Off-topic postscript: Congratulations and best wishes to Bobby Sutliff, who married his sweetheart just last week.

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Album Review: Greg Lake — Songs of a Lifetime

Friday, May 10th, 2013

It’s been about a year since I made the trip to Durham NC to see Greg Lake in concert. In the run-up to that performance, I interviewed Greg, and while in the course of our wide-ranging discussion we spoke a bit about the tour, he wished to keep the details mostly under wraps. I knew it would be a one-man show, but didn’t know how exactly Lake would deliver the songs in this career survey of a show called “Songs of a Lifetime.”

As it happened, the show was a really well-thought-out affair. Lake appeared onstage amidst a “set” peppered with road cases (stenciled “Greg Lake, London”), subdued lighting and a bit of the good old dry ice fog. Alternately seated and standing, he moved between electric guitar, acoustic guitars, bass guitar and even a bit of keyboards. He was backed by recorded versions of his songs, though this was no mere karaoke performance. He sang all his parts, and the recorded backing wasn’t some soulless MIDI playback; these were modern re-recordings of songs from throughout his career.

Some tunes were classics closely associated with Lake: her performed abbreviated versions of King Crimson‘s “In the Court of the Crimson King” and “Epitaph,” plus “21st Century Schizoid Man and “I Talk to the Wind.” Those represented four of the total of five songs on Crim’s debut album, from a time when Lake was their lead singer and bassist. Along with each of the songs, Lake would bookend each with context and personal anecdotes, so that even those unfamiliar with his work outside Emerson, Lake and Palmer could appreciate the songs more fully.

Several ELP songs figured into the set, of course: the romantic ballads “Lend Your Love to Me Tonight” and “C’est Le Vie” plus the hits “From the Beginning,” “Still…You Turn Me On,” “Trilogy,” “Karn Evil 9, 1st Impression Part 2,” and – of course — “Lucky Man.” Sometimes Lake would sit down – usually for the acoustic numbers – but he was a commanding presence when he strapped on his bass and sang the more rock-oriented numbers, too.

Lake took to the keyboard for a reading of “People Get Ready,” and he covered a few other songs that were important to him, songs he’d never previously recorded (or, for that matter, played onstage any time in the last several decades). Elvis‘ “Heartbreak Hotel” and The Beatles‘ “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” (during which he enlisted the audience’s help on the “Hey!” parts) were covered, and for both Lake told interesting stories about those artists.

He even played one left-field original, “Touch and Go,” a song from the period in the 80s when Carl Palmer‘s drum seat was occupied by Cozy Powell. And to the delight and surprise of the audience, he took a fairly lengthy chunk of time to encourage and field questions. True, some of the questions had a Chris-Farley-interviewing-Paul-McCartney quality to them: “Remember the time you played in New York? It was great!” But the whole exchange nevertheless felt very organic, very heartfelt and real.

And here’s the most surprising part of all of this: an audio document of that tour titled Songs of a Lifetime accurately captures that vibe. Not just the music, singing and stories (Lake was ably assisted by André Cholmondoley, a master stage manager/factotum and renowned musician in his own right), but the feel of the entire evening. (The Q&A sessions aren’t part of the disc, which is fine.) For me, as a souvenir of the concert tour, Songs of a Lifetime ranks right up there with the photo I had taken of me and Lake, but purely as music it’s a fine listen, too. More song-oriented than your typical ELP album, even with the stories about Ringo Starr, Paris and the King Crimson album art, Songs of a Lifetime is a delightful album, one sure to please anyone who’s enjoyed any phase of Lake’s forty-plus years in the spotlight.

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Album Review: Captain Beyond — Live in Texas: October 6, 1973

Friday, May 3rd, 2013

Way back in my high school days, I developed an abiding interest that developed into a lifelong hobby. Though these days its intensity level is much lower than, say, a decade ago, my fascination with bootleg recordings remains. I have long believed that bootlegs, or ROIOs (recordings of illegitimate / indeterminate origin) can and often do provide a unique window into understanding of the work of an artist. With the filter of what-should-come-out removed, the listener gets to hear the artist at his or her most raw and direct. Setting aside studio bootlegs (a fascinating category all its own), live bootlegs – free from post-production sweetening – can show us how the act actually sounded onstage.

Live sound reinforcement was none too subtle in the 1970s; there were pretty much two settings: OFF and LOUD. Clearly the latter was the one most often chosen. And as rock’s audience grew, it meant that (unlike today) one rarely got to see their favorite band onstage in a venue designed for music. No, sports arenas and big ol’ open outdoor spaces were the venue of choice in those days. So sound quality wasn’t all that splendid to start with.

Add to that the fact that mobile recording equipment (the amateur kind, not the Rolling Stones Mobile Truck kind) was not very sophisticated, and those who wished to sneak recorders into shows often had to be very inventive.

The result of all this is that bootlegs of the 1970s are rarely in what modern day listeners would call excellent fidelity. But their historical value often trumps that, at least for bootleg aficionados such as this writer. We’d much rather have that warts-and-all live tape of The Paul Butterfield Blues Band onstage in 1966 at a coffeehouse in Boston than not have it at all. Especially when it comes to lesser-known and/or semi-forgotten rock acts, bootlegs are a rare chance to learn more about an act we didn’t know all that much about to begin with.

Captain Beyond is the kind of act that falls into this category. A supergroup-of-sorts, the band was formed by veterans of other well-known acts. Singer Rod Evans had been in Deep Purple during their “Hush” era. Bobby Caldwell had played drums with Johnny Winter, and briefly with Keith Relf‘s post-Yardbirds outfit Armageddon. And guitarist Larry “Rhino” Reinhardt and bassist Lee Dorman had been in Iron Butterfly, though only the bassist had been on board when they cut “In-a-Gadda-da-Vida.”

Signed to Capricorn Records, Captain Beyond was (for that reason and/or others) not destined for the big time. But their mix of vaguely progressive stylings with hard-hard rock, 70s style made a pretty exciting recipe. Their prime-era albums (a 1972 self-titled debut and 1973′s Sufficiently Breathless) are overlooked gems from the era, and make the point yet again that a lot of good music slipped by relatively unnoticed in rock’s heyday.

But now in 2013 comes a live album, Live in Texas: October 6, 1973. It’s certainly in that warts-and-all sonic quality category; the harsh, brittle and occasionally whooshy sound won’t win any engineering awards. But then, that’s not the point. Live in Texas is a rare document of a relatively unknown band, onstage at their peak, giving it all they’ve got. And for that reason alone, it’s worthwhile.

The music’s pretty good, too. And once the listener’s ears acclimate to the sound quality, it’s an entertaining listen. Like many acts of the era, Captain Beyond are introduced by a taped introduction featuring ominous, slowed-down vocals (I don’t know what he’s saying, but it sounds very important). After rocking out for a half dozen tunes, the band moves into a gentle, subtle piece in which Evans sort of reads poetry. “Pandora’s Box (It’s War)” is either pretentious, humorous, or both. It’s enjoyable in a Spinal Tap sort of way, and Reinhardt’s guitar noodling behind Evans’ emotional reading is inventive. One does wonder how the audience reacted to all this: the audio document suggest they stood in dumbstruck silence during the “reading” portion, and then roared and whistled when the cacophonous rocking part kicked in, sounding a bit like Pink Floyd‘s “A Saucerful of Secrets.”

Being that it was 1973, this probably won’t surprise you, but the live set at this Arlington TX show included tracks called “Guitar Solo” and “Drum Solo.” These are pretty much what you’d expect: technically impressive, of great interest to hardcore aficionados and/or musicians, and shamelessly overlong. And on “Guitar Solo,” Reinhardt displays his prowess with the Golden Throat, a little device that would find worldwide notoriety a few years later when stuck in into the pie hole of one Peter Frampton. But the songs from their two albums are exciting and well-played, full of that unique balance of prog and (I mean this in a good way) good old lunkheaded, unsubtle heavy rock. The show wraps up with a faithful reading of Jimi Hendrix‘s “Stone Free.”

This set has been around for awhile, as it happens. It made the rounds for years as a bootleg, of course. (Captain Beyond was opening for King Crimson, of all things, on this date.) While this 2013 release on Purple Pyramid doesn’t provide any documentation as to the recording’s lineage, our friends at Wikipedia tell us that the band has endeavored to release and/or clean up this recording for release a few times before. Adjectives used by Wikipedia contributors to describe the tape’s sound quality include “bad” and terrible.” You have been warned.

Balance that against the fact that no other live recordings – bootleg or otherwise – of Captain Beyond are known to exist, and that Reinhardt and Dorman both passed away in 2012. So it’s either this or nothing. With those caveats, it’s still a recommended listen, but you’d also do well to track down the band’s first two studio albums; one has been reissued on Purple Pyramid as well; both are quite rare on original vinyl (my preferred format) so I don’t have them yet, but have enjoyed them via Spotify.

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Album Review: Hymn for Her Presents Lucy and Wayne’s Smokin’ Flames

Thursday, May 2nd, 2013

Rock’n'roll doesn’t have a long list of successful male-female duets; at least not ones that, y’know, rock. Other traditions have done well with the duet format: Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton, Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash, the one-off Frank and Nancy Sinatra duet, and others. But when it comes to hard-driving rocking, there just haven’t been many of note. Perhaps the best of the sixties was Jefferson Airplane‘s Marty Balin and Grace Slick. Try as I might, I can’t think of a single rocking duet act from the 70s (and no, Donny and Marie Osmond do not count). In the 80s we were fortunate to have John Doe and Exene Cervenka of X.

And it’s that last duo who spring immediately to mind when I hear Lucy and Wayne’s Smokin’ Flames, the new album by Hymn for Her. The comparison isn’t perfect: Hymn for Her lean in more of a cowboy country direction than X did, but this music is pretty compelling, strong stuff.

The arrangements are quite spare; the songs were all performed live to the recorder. And the instrumentation echoes another well-known male-female outfit, The White Stripes. But the dozen songs on Lucy and Wayne’s Smokin’ Flames rock with malevolent glee in a way that Jack and Meg White didn’t always achieve, and – more importantly – when I listen to these tracks, I don’t think to myself, “Boy, this act could really benefit from a bass player, and maybe even a keyboardist.” In fact, the instrumentation – wiry acoustic guitar, distorted electric guitar, and lots and lots of foot stomps – serves these songs in such a good way that embellishing them further would take away from their power.

On “Trash the Sun,” the duo engage in spoken dialogue, but Lucy Tight‘s vocals are run through a processor that makes them sound like an old land-line telephone. The lyrical nod to David Bowie‘s “Space Oddity” is clever in the extreme. Some of the tracks are manic blues numbers (“Rosa Parks Blvd”) and others evoke a windswept, southwestern desert vibe (“Landescape”). Rarely has a two-piece achieved so much emotion-laden musical texture with such basic instrumentation.

Tight and partner Wayne Waxing have a clear love (and facility) for wordplay: witness the title “Lucy Fur” (say it out loud and fast if you don’t get it). And while the music provides the backdrop for the lyrics, the music itself is interesting enough that one can ignore the words at will.

Just when you start thinking it’s going to be one nonstop hell-in-a-bucket ride, the duo switch gear and deliver the lilting, fragile “Burn This.” And while I’m generally not a fan of the banjo, “Dark Deeds” – which sports an intro that features that instrument plus slide guitar – is quite effective, due in no small part to the loose-limbed duet vocals.

The disc ends with a left-turn: the torchy “Passion,” a number that spotlights the sultry, sexy vocals of Lucy Tight. When the song ends, you may be tempted to sit quietly for a moment to allow it all to soak in. Then, after a suitable pause, play the whole thing again.

This album was crowd-funded using a Kickstarter program; that platform is rapidly becoming a viable means for financing all manner of creative projects (more related news on that in this blog very soon). An then right out of left field we have a tie-in product, a hot sauce concocted by the duo plus some Orlando friends. Based on a recipe that includes bananas(!), jalapeños and paprika, it’s unusual (to say the least) but delightful for those who like that sort of thing (and I do). It delivers quite a kick, which means that it pairs nicely with the music on Hymn for Her Presents Lucy and Wayne’s Smokin’ Flames.

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Concert Review: Black Angels, Allah-Las and Elephant Stone — Asheville NC April 5 2013

Monday, April 29th, 2013

I started attending arena-scale rock concerts back in the late 1970s. My first show was in October 1978, seeing Electric Light Orchestra with their hamburger bun/spaceship setup at Atlanta’s Omni. (In the words of Rob Reiner‘s Marty DiBergi character in This is Spinal Tap, “Don’t look for it; it’s not there anymore.) One of the things I remember from the shows of that era was the fact that the opening acts had it pretty rough. They often played to still-nearly-empty rooms, with the house lights still burning brightly, and the sound techs were generally even more indifferent to their music than the audience was. Worse yet, the biggest applause the opener would generally get was in response to, “Okay, this will be our last song…”

From my perspective, things have changed. Part of that has to do with time and general attitudes, I think. It’s also true that for the most part the arena-show era has come and gone. While some acts still play the big stadiums and draw massive crowds, in the rock idiom, smaller clubs are the preferred venue. That’s certainly true for me, living in the small city of Asheville NC. While we do have a civic center where big name artists can come to relive the terrible-acoustics vibe of 70s concerts (Bob Dylan will be here in a few days), mot of the quality acts play here at The Thomas Wolfe Auditorium, The Grey Eagle or The Orange Peel.

And the audiences at those venues – in my experience, at least – are far more receptive to opening acts than was the case in my Atlanta days.

Certainly it helps that headliners today seem to give some actual thought to billing opening acts who have some sort of aesthetic compatibility; long gone are the days when the record company (“What’s a record company, Daddy?”) would foist a labelmate of dubious quality upon the touring headliner.

A prime example of intelligent billing was the recent Black Angels show at The Orange Peel. The Austin-based group has made a name for itself with droney-yet-catchy modern psych. Their tribal beats (in other words, not a lot of cymbals) and minor-key arrangements conjure the vibe of late-late 60s psychedelia; their sound might well be described as the aural equivalent of a good “bad trip.” I like ‘em, and have seen and interviewed them before. Their show was predictably impressive, and the packed house loved it. The accompanying visuals were especially effective, a sort of modern rethink of the kind of thing Andy Warhol‘s Exploding Plastic inevitable tried to achieve.

Not to take anything away from The Black Angels, but where things got really interesting was earlier in the evening. Two bands took the stage before them, and both offered their own spin on selected sounds of the Sixties.

Elephant Stone took the stage first. The Montreal-based quartet wove a thrillingly authentic sixties vibe, and in fact upped the ante beyond how they actually did it back then. Starting with catchy tunes (always a good idea) and clear, gentle vocals that were mixed nice’n'out-front, the rocking band added something one rarely if ever sees in the rock idiom: sitar. No, not a Coral electric sitar, but the real, honest-to-goodness, crosslegged-on-the-floor, Ravi Shankar instrument. With a shimmering, jangling sound heavy on tambourine-shaking vibe, Elephant Stone brought the house down. And while Asheville audiences – perhaps because they often disproportionately represent creative types – are usually appreciative of opening acts, the enthusiasm with which the packed house greeted Elephant Stone was extraordinary. And well-deserved. The band easily rates a top spot billing when (hopefully) they return to Asheville.

The Allah-Las tread similar musical territory, but they too have style all their own. While not employing the exotic instrumentation of Elephant Stone, they piloted their wayback machine straight to mid 60s Los Angeles; their songs as presented onstage gave modern-day listeners the most authentic recreation of what it must have been like to see bands like Love at legendary venues such as Pandora’s Box and the Whisky-a-Go-Go. Delightfully unconcerned with updating the 60s garage/psych/punk aesthetic for the 21st century, The Allah-Las played a set of songs that not only sounded like they were written in 1966, but played then too. No small feat: While their album gets the production vibe just right, it’s not reasonable to expect that the band could realistically reproduce that feel onstage. But in fact they did: jangling guitars were the order of the night.

Whether a concertgoer showed up at The Orange Peel to see and hear The Black Angels, The Allah-Las or Elephant Stone, odds are high that they came away happy at witnessing all three. With complimentary sounds and musical approaches yet distinct identities, all three bands put on excellent shows. In the end, the evening felt more like a triple-bill than a headliner with two openers. It was one of the best local shows in recent memory.

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Album Review: Cat Mother and the All Night Newsboys — The Street Giveth…and the Street Taketh Away

Thursday, April 25th, 2013

When it comes to James Marshall Hendrix, there are any number of “fun facts,” little tidbits of trivia that may or may not add to one’s understanding of the man and his music. For example: before he became famous, he played the chitlin’ circuit. He was part of the early 60s r&b/rock scene in the Pacific Northwest. At the urging of Micky Dolenz, he opened for The Monkees on one of their concert tours. He played guitar on a Timothy Leary album, with a pick-up band that also included Stephen Stills.

Perhaps lesser known than any of those morsels is the fact that he produced an album for another act. Now, don’t get your hopes up too much: despite the fact that – as many critics have observed – Hendrix was one of the prime exponents of studio-as-instrument, his work on The Street Giveth…and the Street Taketh Away by Cat Mother and the All Night Newsboys bears little if any of Hendrix’ sonic fingerprints.

In fact there’s nothing Hendrixian about this album at all. But that should not be taken to mean that it’s not a fun ride. The band’s “Good Old Rock’n'Roll” was deservedly a hit in 1969. The song is little more than a spirited medley of early rock’n'roll chestnuts (“Blue Suede Shoes,” “Chantilly Lace,” and four others) strung together with a brief chorus about, well, good old rock’n'roll. Such was the vogue at the tsil-end of the 60s, when many heavy rock music purveyors had briefly grown weary of the heavy sounds of the psychedelic era. (The BeatlesGet Back project, resulting in the Let it Be album, is perhaps the most well-known back-to-basics example of the era, but music from Dylan, The Rolling Stones, The Band and many others also followed that aesthetic.)

But as luck would have it, the rest of the Cat Mother album is even more interesting. “Favors” features some memorable vocal harmony work on the chorus, a driving funky beat, and stinging lead guitar work. With its Procol Harum-like organ work (and some lovely fiddle work), “Charlie’s Waltz” sounds like the work of a different band yet again. It would be an overstatement to compare Cat Mother’s approach here to The Turtles‘ classic Battle of the Bands, but the band’s versatility is on full display on The Street Giveth…

The stylistic variance continues on “How I Spent My Summer.” Here the band sounds a bit like Peanut Butter Conspiracy crossed with The Five Man Electrical Band. Accessible, tuneful and catchy, the track balances hooky riffs with a strong rock sensibility.

The sound of a scratchy record has been used to great effect by many acts, from Moby Grape (Wow‘s “Just Like Gene Autry: A Foxtrot”) to Matthew Sweet (Girlfriend), and Cat Mother got in on the game too with “Marie,” in which they evoke memories of Sopwith Camel crossed with (believe it or not) The Grateful Dead.

Some manic tack piano work forms the basis of “Probably Won’t,” a number evocative of Northern California acts such as The Charlatans. The song’s la-la-las and cha-cha vocalisms make it a spirited singalong (and the lyrics implore listeners to do just such a thing).

The slower funky-tunk approach of “Can You Dance to It?” features some appealing Wurlitzer electric piano and cowbell, sounding very much like the country-influenced rock that Moby Grape was putting out. The gentle “Bramble” sounds like the Dead with an actual singer; melancholy violin work adds some texture.

“Bad News” is dramatic and dynamic; with its Vanilla Fudge-like descending riff, it’s one of the record’s strongest tracks. A lengthy violin solo on the outro is a highlight. “Boston Burglar” combines a jugband vibe with wah-wah pedals; the effect is odd but appealing.

The record closes with a lengthy, winning organ-centric instrumental, “Track in ‘A’ (Nebraska Nights)” and it’s perhaps the most musically diverse tune on the entire record. In places it sounds a bit like The Allman Brothers. One can only think that this big finish would have left listeners of the day anxious for the follow-up record.

“Good Old Rock’n'Roll” did make the Top 40, and the album rose to #55 on the Billboard charts, but the album eventually disappeared from record shelves, and three follow-up albums for Polydor failed to match the debut’s modest chart action. Original copies can be found online, but the 2013 CD reissue from Real Gone Music will suffice for most listeners; John Platt‘s liner notes (in which he calls The Street Giveth…and the Street Taketh Away a “minor classic of the era”) give curious listeners a bit more background on this relatively unknown band. The Hendrix connection here is nothing more than trivia, but the album is successful on its own merits, Jimi or no. Ignore reviews that insist The Street Giveth… is noteworthy only for its producer. Recommended.

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Album Review: The Edgar Broughton Band — Live in Hamburg: The Fabrik Concert 1973

Friday, April 12th, 2013

Greetings, gentle reader. If you’ve found your way here, I offer you my most heartfelt welcome. The odds were against you stumbling across this particular review by happenstance. What’s on offer today is a forty year old concert recording by a band you’ve probably never heard (or even heard of). The Edgar Broughton Band were among that second- or third-string lineup of 70s also-ran bands, the sort who found themselves part way down the bill at some or other festival. That observation is no comment on the merits of their music; it’s merely a summation of how things were for this UK-based outfit.

Big in Germany, the band never really enjoyed much in the way of chart success ( a bit in their home country; none stateside), but they were a popular live act. Releasing six albums between 1969 and 1975, they soldiered on. Their music was a mixture of hard-boogie with some more outre, exploratory trappings. The track for which they’re most remembered (when they’re recalled at all) is “Out Demons Out,” a psychedelic chant based on The Fugs‘ “Exorcising The Demons Out Of The Pentagon.” That track is (of course) the set closer on a new archival release, Live in Hamburg: The Fabrik Concert 1973.

Never the subtlest of acts (which may explain their popularity in early 70s Germany, where audiences had an appetite for straight-ahead rock), The Edgar Broughton Band nevertheless did try to offer plenty of musical shade and light in their live shows. Their longish songs sometimes featured gentle guitar picking, contrasted by strident vocals of the band’s namesake. Fans of Uriah Heep – especially the soft/loud, gentle/strident approach – may enjoy this less arty take on rock’n'roll. Founding member and drummer Victor Unitt – late of The Pretty Things – had recently come back on board, and his powerful drums are well-recorded. Unfortunately, the same cannot always be said for the lead guitar, which is occasionally lost in the mix. The band’s exhortations to put-your-hands-together for the la-la-la drug ode “Poppy” give the proceedings a slightly Spinal Tap vibe, but it’s all in good fun, and is vaguely reminiscent of Country Joe & the Fish‘s “Fish Cheer.”

Oddly, Broughton introduces “I Got Mad” as “Soledad,” despite the fact that it had been released with the previous title. Still, it’s nice to hear stage dialogue; so often this sort of thing is edited out of live albums; its inclusion adds to the authentic feeling of the recording.

While the band sometimes covered other artists, this Fabrik set is (the Fugs rewrite notwithstanding) a collection of all original material. Production values are harsh, clattering and noisy, perfectly befitting the vibe of a 70s club date.

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Album Review: Conspiracy – Conspiracy Live

Thursday, April 11th, 2013

As the sole member of Yes to appear on every single album, Chris Squire has stayed quite busy these last several decades. Though he released but one solo album (1975′s Fish Out of Water), Squire has found time for quite a number of projects outside Yes. One of these is a band called Conspiracy, a collaboration between the bassist and sometime Yes member Billy Sherwood. That outfit released its debut in 2000, and now a 2004 live concert has been released on a CD+DVD set called, well, Conspiracy Live.

The five piece (Squire on bass and vocals, Sherwood on guitar and vocals, plus three players who are good but whose names you’ve likely not heard before) runs through numbers from their studio album, plus a pair of rarely-performed tracks (“Hold out Your Hand” and “You By My Side” from Fish Out of Water). When Squire takes the lead vocal, things sound decidedly more Yes-like; when Sherwood sings, the effect is closer to power-rock or arena rock of the 90s (see also: Extreme, Bon Jovi). Your enjoyment of Conspiracy Live overall may likely be dictated by your taste for (or ability to endure) the latter style.

Production quality is stellar, but quite odd as well: there is absolutely no sonic trace of an audience on this recording (said to date from Oxnard CA). In fact, there’s nothing about the CD to suggest that it’s a live album at all. The decision to render this album in such a way is odd, to say the least. Not only are there no “hello Oxnard” bits, but there’s no applause. It’s all a bit sterile.

Two of the three anonymous (not really!) players are keyboardists, so there are lots of dramatic synth squeals here (plus some slightly cliched string-patch keys on “The More We Live”), but overall Conspiracy Live is focused on the voices and stringwork of Squire and Sherwood. So you get some tasty lead-bass work peppered among the tracks. And there’s no denying that Sherwood’s propulsive, dynamic “Confess” is an appealing track.

The songs are in fact good, and “New World” in particular sounds very much like the kind of thing one might have heard on Big Generator; Sherwood’s role in Yes always seemed to this listener to be to continue where Trevor Rabin left off; whether that’s a good or bad thing is left to you to decide. One thing is certain: it’s a treat to hear Squire take the lead vocal; Yes fans have been hearing him sing for years, but very rarely out front. His timbre is less airy, more rockist than Jon Anderson, and his is a very expressive instrument; see “Red Light Ahead” for proof.

Conspiracy Live is appended with a live DVD; the cover assures us that the concert was “professionally filmed,” and the DVD also includes interviews with the entire band (snarky emphasis mine). Well, good.

This does bear mentioning: The cover art could be viewed by cynics as a sort of piss-take on Roger Dean‘s designs, or not: one thing is for sure: it’s horrible, somewhat pointless and quite silly. But don’t let that deter you from checking this one out if you’re a Yes (or Extreme, ha) fan.

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