Posts Tagged ‘omnivore’

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: Wanda Jackson – The Best of the Classic Capitol Singles

Thursday, January 31st, 2013

If you want a potted history – albeit one from a provocative perspective, and with its own axe to grind – of Wanda Jackson‘s career, I recommend you put your hands on Nick ToschesUnsung Heroes of Rock’n’Roll: The Birth of Rock in the Wild Years Before Elvis. But for the music itself, your go-to item simply must be the new Omnivore Recordings collection, The Best of the Classic Capitol Singles. Wild beyond description, some of the songs on this 29-track set display the high points of a really out-there recording artist.

Jackson’s opening single for the label, “I Gotta Know” veers wildly between rockabilly (or just plain rock) and two-step country. It rocks (so to speak) back and forth, keeping the listener delightfully off balance. Music didn’t often get this adventurous – especially in the Nashville idiom (these tracks were recorded in either Nashville or Hollywood). While the b-sides included here (half of the material, natch) lean in a safer, c&w direction, the a-sides are all over the stylistic map, and in the best way possible.

It’s difficult to imagine just how incendiary this music must have seemed upon initial hearing back in the 50s and 60s. There simply wasn’t a precedent – among white folks, at least – for the sort of unbridled, in-your-face approach that Jackson brought to music. One could almost argue that her sassy approach in songs like “Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad” is something approaching proto-feminist. A neat trick, that: putting forth the image of a strong, assertive woman, and doing it in a way that was sexy to men of that era.

But again, there’s the whiplash of flipping those 45s over and hearing straight-ahead country of “Silver Threads and Golden Needles.” Those tunes are expertly arranged and performed, but they’re not groundbreaking. So listening to The Best of the Classic Capitol Singles straight through remains a jarring experience. Perhaps that’s as it should be: Jackson was never – not then, not now – interested in being boxed into one style, one label.

I saw Wanda Jackson perform a showcase set at last fall’s Americana Music Association Festival & Conference; though she’s now 75 years old, she put on one hell of a show. Backed by a rough-and-tumble rockabilly band, she tore through her songs old and new, and threw lascivious leers and come-hither looks at the men in the audience (including me, in the front row). It was funny stuff, what with her looking like somebody’s grandmother and all, but Jackson balanced a winking I-know-what-I’m-doing-up-here sensibility with a true love and affinity for the music. She’s one of a rare few who seems to have no use for the stylistic boxes musical artists allow themselves to be placed in. Yes, she’s often known as the Queen of Rockabilly, but she’s much more than that, and this new set of a- and b-sides from her classic era show Wanda Jackson at her very best. Essential.

Here’s Wanda Jackson performing her “Fujiyama Mama,” (a hit in Japan in 1957!) at the AMA Festival last year.

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I’m in the Fan Club: A Conversation with Jellyfish’s Roger Manning, Part Two

Tuesday, January 8th, 2013

Continued from Part One

Bill Kopp: I remember one of those live-in-the-studio sessions you did back around the time of the second album. It was for 99X, a radio station in Atlanta (WNNX-FM). The thing I remember most from the interview part of that session – and I don’t know if it was you or not who was responding – but the DJ made the point of comparing Jellyfish’s sound to Queen. Whoever it was, he didn’t appreciate the comparison. But while Jellyfish always sounded modern, there was a clear, shall-we-say, classicist bent to the music, especially the arrangements. So if not Queen – and I’d agree with you there – what sort of aesthetic were you aiming for with the band?

Roger Manning: Well, thank you for your kind words and the way you put it. You pretty much nailed it: for us, the biggest priority was, no matter what we did, we did something that gave us a chance to be adventurous and bold. And respectful of artists past, one s who had various influences on us. The main thing was to create something that had a classicist feel to it. In a nutshell, we were operating on a tradition of rock/pop history, and putting our own stamp on it. That’s all we ever wanted to do. And Queen was as much a part of what influenced us, inspired us in that direction, as anybody. Certainly, vocally. People don’t realize that there were groups like The Carpenters, Fleetwood Mac and 10cc who were very, very strong vocal influences on us.

BK: When the first album came out – and even more so when Spilt Milk was released – I evangelized about Jellyfish to any of my friends who would listen. But the band never really broke through with the massive success I thought it deserved. I even thought the timing was right. You had it all: the music, the lyrics, the arrangements, and a distinctive visual style, so important by that period. So why do you think the band never truly broke through in a bigger way?

RM: Although I agree with you that we possessed a little bit of each of those qualities, at the end of the day, I think we were just too damn intellectual. Even though we were writing three-and-a-half-minute, simple, hooky pop, we were still operating in a tradition that had [already] its heyday, if you will. The production approach that we were using was present with everybody from Steely Dan to…even Cheap Trick was more intellectual than rock bands that were happening in the early 90s.

When our first album came out, “Sunset Strip metal” was coming to a crashing halt because Nirvana was coming through. Grunge was about to dominate the airwaves. And of course grunge was another sort of post-punk statement. It was very rooted in punk and in classic hard rock, and there’s nothing intellectual about any of that stuff. Some [of those] bands did some wonderful things…

Obviously, we attracted people, and people “got” it, but on the bell curve of middle America, frankly it was like a foreign language coming into a lot of ears. I remember that right during Spilt Milk, the second Pearl Jam album came out. And I was just scratching my head: “Wow. I’m in the same age group as all of these people, and for the most part the bands too, and I don’t understand what the appeal is.” That’s not a slight to Pearl Jam. It’s just a comment on me, and where my head space was. I was like, “This is just not meeting my needs.” Clearly it was meeting the needs of a whole lot of other people!

You could analyze it for days. I think that though the melodies we offered were catchy and singable and so forth, it was still not as…it would have been the equivalent of, say, all of those great Dionne Warwick Burt Bacharach/Hal David songs, if all of those songs came out the late 80s. Or the early 90s or something. Or even in the last decade now. It’s like, “Wow. Fuckin’ masterpieces!” and the general public says, “I don’t care!” It’s irrelevant to the cultural climate [of a given time period].

Jellyfish’s 2CD Stack-a-Tracks is out now on Omnivore Recordings.

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I’m in the Fan Club: A Conversation with Jellyfish’s Roger Manning, Part One

Monday, January 7th, 2013

Jellyfish was one of the great bands of the early 90s. At a time when pop music had lost its way – or at least moved away from the things that made it such a culturally vital part of previous times (most notably the 70s), the Jellyfish approach celebrated the bombast and excess of rock/pop, aiming squarely at fun. But fun of a decidedly intelligent sort. While neither of the albums made a huge impact on the commercial marketplace, they were critical darlings (and, judging from available video, one hell of an exciting band to see live) and exerted great influence within a narrow scope.

Now, nearly twenty years after their final release, Jellyfish has released Stack-a-Tracks, instrumental versions of both of their studio albums. I spoke about it and more with Roger Manning, co-leader of Jellyfish (along with Andy Sturmer) throughout the band’s relatively brief tenure.

Bill Kopp: What was the motivation – or, put another way — who came up with the idea for releasing these Stack-a-Tracks tapes?

Roger Manning: To the best of my knowledge, it was Cheryl [Pawelski] at Omnivore. I didn’t even recall that these mixes existed. I understood that we had done “TV mixes” – most bands do – but I had no idea that they were sitting in a vault somewhere, ready to be made available. I was very happy that she had the foresight and the inspiration to realize this.

BK: I don’t have the NotLame Fan Club box set. Did any of the tracks on this new Stack-a-Tracks set appear on that collection?

RM: No. There are no instrumentals on that box set as far as I recall.

BK: I have spent countless hours with both Bellybutton and Spilt Milk. But I am hearing all sorts of things on Stack-a-Tracks, things I never knew were there. And you clearly haven’t heard these mixes in some twenty years. When you first re-listened to them in the run-up to release, what if anything surprised you?

RM: I don’t know as though there were any surprises, being as how I was one of the people there. [laughter] But I, too, had grown accustomed to listening to the songs as composites. The listener’s ear goes to the vocal first, and then the gaps get filled in with the instruments. Now with the vocals being gone, you’re free to hear all of the intricacies in production that we spent an inordinate amount of time with, and belabored over. So it was a joy to kind of hear the depth of what we were going for. I mean, I’ve worked on all kinds of productions, with other artists and different arranging. And we really had our work cut out for us; Andy [Sturmer] and myself really raised the bar as high as we could. And I look back on it fondly; I’m glad that we kind of got that out of our systems! [laughter] I’m very proud of it.

 continued

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Album Review: Bert Jansch – Heartbreak

Thursday, December 20th, 2012

While American folk music has never had an especially deep resonance with me, the British Isles variant has long spoken to me somehow. There’s something about the European traditional flavor in UK folk, I suppose, that touches me. Many of the rock artists I’ve long treasured have had their music informed to various degrees by folk. Perhaps that’s why I’m more likely to enjoy a Nick Drake album (or a Jethro Tull record!) than something by Pete Seeger.

But I would never claim to be an aficionado nor an expert on the genre. Yes, in my voracious, never-ending quest to read about a wide array of music, Bert Jansch‘s name has come up countless times. Generally it’s in the context of citing the Scottish guitarist as an influence upon someone or other. But until I received the new reissue of his 1981 album Heartbreak (available from Omnivore on stunning clear vinyl in a lovely and sturdy gatefold sleeve that must certainly better the original), I hadn’t actually heard his work.

Seeing the release date, I had some misgivings: folk – as with many musical forms – wasn’t at anything near its apex at the dawn of the 1980s. Would Heartbreak be filled with then-trendy (and now hopelessly dated) production filigrees? Well, technically speaking, some of the things one might fear are indeed present, but damn if they don’t work,and well. Though it’s not credited as such, that sounds unmistakeably like Coral electric sitar in the hands of guitarist Albert Lee on “Up to the Stars” and “Is it Real?” among other tracks. And while Randy Tico is credited on the sleeve with playing “Fender Bass” (one supposes this is to warn purists that Heartbreak is not an all-acoustic affair), it sounds as if Tico shaved off the frets for these sessions.

Jansch’s voice is distinctive and achingly beautiful; he’s one of those singers – like the underrated Al Stewart, one of those artists who has been greatly influenced by Jansch – whose voice is instantly recognizable; hear a few seconds of him singing and you know it’s him. On Heartbreak, Jansch weaves his story-songs through delicate, fetching melodic landscapes. Far less quirky/bizarre than, say, Roy Harper, Jansch paints pictures with his music, often (as on the lengthy, truth-in-advertising-titled “And Not a Word Was Said”) leaning in a very bluesy direction.

A few participants’ presence warrant mention. The crystalline production of brothers John Chelew and Richard Chelew belies the fact that Heartbreak was their first sessions as producers. And despite her MOR reputation, Jennifer Warnes‘ vocal harmonies on “Wild Mountain Thyme” invites favorable comparisons to Sandy Denny‘s work on Led Zeppelin‘s “The Battle of Evermore.”

Jansch’s cover of “Heartbreak Hotel” is inspired; with his player he conjures a sensibility out of the song that neither Elvis nor John Cale could have ever imagined. His reading of “If I Were a Carpenter” is more conventional but no less beautiful. Throughout Heartbreak – though it’s nominally a folk record – Jansch and his fellow musicians create an aesthetic that rock fans should find quite warm and inviting.

Jansch’s career had its ups and down after Heartbreak, including some brief reunions with his former group, Pentangle. He succumbed to lung cancer in October 2011, leaving behind a solo catalog of some two dozen albums plus his work with Pentangle and as a guest on many other recordings.

Postscript #1: there is also a 2CD release of Heartbreak from Omnivore; it contains fourteen tracks compared with the orignal’s (and vinyl reissue’s) ten.

Postscript #2: I have received unofficial word that early vinyl pressings of the 2012 Heartbreak reissue are in erroneously-pressed “collapsed monaural.” I cannot verify this assertion with 100% accuracy, but to my ears, it’s quite possible. That said, true or not, my enjoyment of the vinyl Heartbreak is not diminished one iota.

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EP Review: Wanda Jackson – Capitol Rarities

Wednesday, December 19th, 2012

Though her recording career began in the mid 1950s, I only discovered Wanda Jackson sometime around 1993. Sometime that year I was in a Wal-Mart (I rarely if ever set foot in one of those these days, but back then I sometimes did) and found myself poring over a bin or “remaindered” books reduced for quick sale. One title caught my attention: Nick ToschesUnsung Heroes of Rock’n'Roll: The Birth of Rock in the Wild Years Before Elvis. Since it was all of a buck or two, I picked it up.

Turns out it was worth far more than that. Tosches is a provocative and wickedly funny writer. And his vignettes of these early rockers – mostly only three or four pages each – are equal parts irreverence and rich history. Toward the back of the book is an essay on Wanda Jackson titled “Laced by Satan, Unlaced by the Lord.” Tosches discusses Wanda’s early rock-roll sides, most notably “Fujiyama Mama,” a (now) wildly politically-incorrect rocker that equates the singer’s lovin’ skills to the bombs dropped on two Japanese cities near the end of the Second World War.

As Tosches tells the story, Wanda’s rock’n'roll era was short, as her records were too wild for the masses (or at least Capitol Records thought so), so by 1961, as he memorably puts it, “Wanda began recording in Nashville, recrossing her legs and veering again toward tamer country stuff.”

A half-dozen unheard sides (most from that just-post-rock’n'roll era of Wanda’s) have now been collected on a lovely ten-inch vinyl record called Capitol Rarities. While it’s true these are pretty tame when measured by the standards of “Let’s Have a Party” (covered to great effect by Paul McCartney on his standout fin de siècle release Run Devil Run), listened to on their own, they’re pretty good stuff.

Impeccably produced, the six numbers all hew pretty close to standard Nashville arrangement tradition, and remain inside the standard I-IV-V pattern (no doubt allowing the seasoned session cats to get ‘em right in a take or two). There’s a timeless quality to these sides, and the up-front mixing of Wanda’s strong vocals puts across the impression that the singer wasn’t getting pushed around in the studio. “To Tell the Truth” lays on the syrupy strings and vocal choir pretty thickly, but it still has an undeniable charm that makes Capitol Rarities a must-hear.

Tosches’ essay (written in the 80s, at which point Wanda had been reduced to cutting devotionally-themed records for Christian labels) ends with a passage that read in part, “the voice that had been too hot to handle twenty years before was heard no more.” In fact Wanda relaunched her career a few years later, leaning more toward the rockabilly material. I had the pleasure of seeing her in an intimate setting a few months ago at the Americana Music Association Conference and Festival in Nashville; she did a short set in the hotel lobby(!) backed by a fiercely tight rockabilly band (think: Smithereens with a doghouse bass), previewing songs from her excellent album Unfinished Business. That Justin Townes Earle-produced record – like the live set I witnessed — presents Jackson in the manner in which she is best heard. An upcoming CD release (also from Omnivore, the label responsible for Capitol Rarities) will collect 29 songs; I’ll be reviewing that album – The Best of the Classic Capitol Singles – soon, and might even post along with it some live (amateur) video I shot of Wanda’s fantastic AMA set.

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