Posts Tagged ‘real gone music’

« Older Entries

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 Doors‘ Robbie 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.

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:,
Posted in metal, rawk, reissue, review | No Comments »

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 Beatles‘ Get 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.

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:, ,
Posted in rawk, reissue, review | 1 Comment »

Album Review: Jeremy Steig — Wayfaring Stranger

Wednesday, April 17th, 2013

In the very late 1970s – or perhaps it was the very early 80s; after so many years, I’m not entirely sure – I picked up a used copy of Lillian Roxon’s Rock Encyclopedia. I was (and remain) a voracious consumer of that kind of thing; not long after I became a rock fan, I became a fan of rock journalism. Roxon’s 1969 book was one of the first long-form serious treatments of rock music, and while it’s quite dated now, it remains an absolutely fascinating read. (Ed Naha‘s mid 70s update of the late Lillian Roxon‘s work is a disaster to be avoided, except in a compare-and-contrast sort of way.)

Roxon made a point to include a number of bubbling-under artists, including several whom (at the time of the book’s first printing) hadn’t even released albums. Thus readers can learn about a new group “out of Detroit” (sic) called The Psychedelic Stooges. Another group that merits mention is a jazz-rock outfit (the hybrid was quite new and novel at the time) called Jeremy Steig and the Satyrs. Their sole album (a self-titled LP released in March 1968) is, in Roxon’s estimation, jazz aimed at a rock audience. Predictably, it didn’t shift major units and is largely forgotten (despite a small-label CD reissue in 2009). But Steig himself was then a fairly highly regarded jazz flautist, and he remains musically active today, now based in Japan.

A couple of years after the Satyrs LP, Steig released an album called Wayfaring Stranger (named after the traditional folk classic). As the liner notes in the album’s new reissue (on the estimable Real Gone Music label) explain, in those days Steig “was signed to a manager who tended to trade him around to record companies like a major league ball player,” and as a result he ended up on Blue Note for the 1970 album.

Steig’s band is small and configured in a traditionally jazz-styled manner. Bassist Eddie Gomez was already quite well known as Scott LaFaro‘s replacement in The Bill Evans Trio, and Don Alias (drums) and guitarist Sam Brown were highly regarded in the jazz world as well, both with extensive pedigrees.

“In the Beginning” is a spare piece in which Steig’s flute carries the tune, with subtle yet funky support from Gomez and Alias (if Brown is on the track at all, his contributions are minor). Toward the song’s fadeout, some vocalizing a la Ian Anderson works its way into Steig’s attack, though Pat Thomas‘ liner essay asserts that the then-new Jethro Tull wasn’t an influence upon Steig’s playing. Of course others (notably Rashaan Roland Kirk) used similar breath techniques.

In some ways the vibe created within “In the Beginning” is continued in “Mint Tea.” While the band hits a bit harder – and Steig’s playing becomes more forceful – the tracks continues unfolding in a catchy/funky manner, but not one that will find listeners with a hook-laden melody stuck in their heads thereafter.

Sam Brown’s electric guitar makes its first audible appearance on the title track, easily the most melodic and accessible of the record’s six tracks (it’s perhaps worth noting that the other five are either Stieg compositions or co-writes with Gomez). In the tried-and-true jazz tradition, Steig states the melody, and then restates it in mutated fashion, then more so, then he’s joined by countermelodic work from his cohorts. The track goes on some eleven minutes, but never fails to sustain interest; each player takes his turn to shine, albeit in a muted fashion. It would be a disservice to characterize this music as background music, but in a pinch it could serve that function quite well.

Things take a welcome turn toward the funky with “Waves,” in which Gomez’s upright bass takes a more prominent role; the counterpoint between his assertive yet subtle acoustic playing and Steig’s breathy, precise flute work is a highlight of the record; Alias’ drumming – with plenty of subtle snare and cymbal work — makes it even better.

The lengthy “All is One” builds from a spare Steig solo showcase into something punctuated by Gomez’s moody bass plucking. Five-plus minutes in, Steig adopts a more fluid, lyrical style, while Gomez plucks way ominously (Brown and Alias are wholly absent on this track). Eight minutes or so along, Steig blows what might most accurately be called psychedelic flute.

Wayfaring Stranger wraps up with “Space” (as with most Real Gone Music reissues of forgotten/lost treasures, there are no bonus tracks on the CD reissue). Gomez takes up the bow and plays his bass like a cello, playing higher on the neck, well up into the treble range. The result is a lovely (if melancholy) duet between the bassist and Steig. The musical dialogue between the to truly feels like a conversation, and is perhaps the most evocative piece on the album. (Evocative of what, you can decide.) Toward its end, “Space” gets truly weird in an avant-garde kind of way, perhaps presaging Steig’s work with Yoko Ono a mere year later, on her Fly LP.

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:, ,
Posted in avant-garde, jazz, reissue, review | No Comments »

Album Review: Grateful Dead — Dick’s Pick’s Volume 24

Wednesday, April 10th, 2013

Say what you will about The Grateful Dead – heaven knows I’ve been harshly critical of them, and stand by every one of my written remarks – even at their worst, they possesses an undeniable charm. And no matter what era of the band one focuses upon, there’s always something there to recommend. But then it’s just as reliably saddled with some sort of flaw that keeps things from being perfect (and yet of course that’s an unfair standard). So it is with the latest reissue of a Dead archival set, Dick’s Picks Volume 24: Cow Palace, Daly City CA 3/23/74.

First the upsides: the sound quality is stunning. The band was debuting its use of the “Wall of Sound,” a massive array of speakers designed to deliver the cleanest, most precise live sound imaginable. (Photos of the wall are included in the CD set’s liner notes.) And equal care went into capturing that sound onto tape; few live recordings from nearly forty years ago sound this clear.

Another (qualified) plus: though Donna Godchaux is with the band at this point, for the most part she doesn’t seem to do much. And that can only be good; in retrospect one cannot help but wonder what they were thinking letting her onstage. Bad-bad-bad, like a Bonnie Bramlett minus any sense of pitch or subtlety (which of course leaves nearly nothing).

Beyond all that, it’s standard-issue Dead. They start strong and relatively tight (tightness is measured on a sliding scale when we’re talking about The Dead) with “U.S. Blues,” and for most of the first hour they play actual songs. Only “Weather Report Suite” goes on over ten minutes.

By the second disc (second set) it’s noodle time. An aborted take of “Playing in the Band” (the mics were off, it seems) leads into a few moments of aimless fiddling, but then the band drones into an equally aimless reading of the song. That, however, segues into a surprisingly Just Like the Record reading of “Uncle John’s Band,” followed by a string of longer pieces. Then back to jamming; it’s probably transcendent if you’re a deadhead; it’s dull otherwise.

1974 was a period of Mickey Hart‘s estrangement from the band, so this is one of relatively few tours during which the band had only one drummer (Bill Kreutzmann). So if you don’t count Donna (and I don’t), the band is a mere five-piece here. One might think that would make them a bit more musically straightforward, but close your eyes and the difference isn’t measurable.

Like most every other Grateful Dead show recording, it’s ragged-but-right, rarely rocking, and relentlessly redundant. Not for nothing did the band title one of its live albums For the Faithful. As the saying goes, if you like or love The Grateful Dead, you’ll enjoy this one, especially for the sound quality. If you find them monotonous and lacking in energy, there’s little within the grooves of Dick’s Picks Volume 24 to change your mind.

I came away from the hours spent listening to this set – nothing to dislike here, really, and plenty of enjoyable moments – with one major thought: It’s too bad that any number of other bands — far better ones, in my estimation — couldn’t have had (and used) such stellar mobile recording equipment to capture their shows. Instead we get out-of tune guitars, croaky vocals and Donna Godchaux in brilliant, top-notch audio quality.

  Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:,
Posted in psych, reissue, review | No Comments »

Album Review: Barbara & Ernie – Prelude To…

Monday, April 1st, 2013

I truly admire the people at Real Gone Music. They continue to unearth music from ages ago that is in some cases long-cherished. In other cases it’s long-forgotten but worthwhile. And in yet other cases, the music never got much of a hearing to begin with; you can’t forget what you never knew.

And it’s into that last category that Prelude To… falls. Credited to Barbara & Ernie, it’s a 1971 one-off collaboration between Barbara Massey (vocals, keyboards and autoharp) and Ernie Calabria (vocals, guitar, electric sitar and some bass). Backed by some ace sessioners, the duo and their album sank pretty much without a trace, despite being on Cotillion (the same Atlantic Records subsidiary that released Emerson, Lake & Palmer‘s debut LP in the USA).

Though it’s credited as a duo, Massey’s voice is the most prominent instrument on the record. And she has quote a set of pipes. Not only can she sing whatever sort of material she wishes – ballads, soulful numbers – but her singular style means that she can sound like herself while strongly evoking other top-notch vocalists. The musically ambitious “Play With Fire” finds Massey sounding like some sort of cross between Grace Slick and Julie Driscoll. On the gentle, stately J.S. Bach-influenced “Prelude,” Massey sounds very much like Laura Nyro. And in other places she may remind listeners of Carole King or Karen Carpenter. And so on: witness “Listen to Your Heart,” in which she sounds uncannily like Elaine “Spanky” McFarlane.

Barbara & Ernie’s cover of Jefferson Airplane‘s (or The Great Society‘s, if we’re being picky) “Somebody to Love” is very much in the style of Driscoll’s work with Brian Auger; Massey’s finely-timed strums on autoharp will make you forget The Lovin’ Spoonful.

The players are certainly no slouches, either. Calabria’s subtle, jazzy guitar work on “Searching the Circle” is a delight, and the horn charts on that tune (and a few others) are subtle and thrilling at once. (Aside: I’ve read that “Searching the Circle” has been sampled for breakbeats and grooves on hip-hop tracks, but can’t tell you which ones.) And with orchestration by a pre-disco Eumir Deodato, this is one of those albums that rewards close listening.

Listening to this shortish album in 2013, the biggest mystery may be why it didn’t chart; everything about it: writing, singing, performance, arrangement, production – is exemplary, and it’s a varied (but not too varied) collection of songs. One supposes that the “just too much other good stuff at the time” argument might explain it. But thanks to Real Gone Music, the time for Barbara & Ernie’s Prelude To… is now. It’s a gem worth discovering.

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:, ,
Posted in jazz, pop, reissue, review, soul | No Comments »

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.

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:,
Posted in blues, compilation, new release, r&b, rawk, review | No Comments »

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.

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:, ,
Posted in compilation, funk, jazz, reissue, review, soul | No Comments »

Album Review: Sam Samudio – Sam, Hard and Heavy

Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

“Wooly Bully!” Yes, if you remember pop music of the 1960s – fondly or otherwise – you will recall this garage rockin’ classic. With its wheezing Farfisa organ lines, manic-and-stomping delivery, the biggest hit for Sam “The Sham” and the Pharaohs was all over the radio (#2 on the charts in June 1965). The novelty quality of the song may have obscured the fact that Domingo Samudio (sometimes listed as Zamudio) and his band actually had a number of other good musical ideas; the 1967 compilation The Best of Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs is actually quite a good record all the way through, and is worth tracking down (I have it on vinyl, but then I would).

But the silly nature of some of the group’s songs (“Lil’ Red Riding Hood,” “The Hair on my Chinny Chin Chin”) caused them to not be taken as seriously as they might have liked. The group’s Tex-Mex stylings were certainly closer to Doug Sahm & the Sir Douglas Quintet than to, say, Bubble Puppy or the 13th Floor Elevators, but they deserved more respect than they often got.

Times changed, as times do, and by 1971 Samudio cut a “solo” album under his own name. Titled Sam, Hard and Heavy (no relation to the similarly-titled Paul Revere and the Raiders LP from a few months earlier, Hard ‘N’ Heavy (With Marshmallow)), Samudio’s album enlisted ace players from the Atlantic Records stable. The Memphis Horns provide support on a number of cuts, and Duane Allman(!) plays guitar and/or dobro on two tracks (one is a bonus outtake, a cover of “Me and Bobby McGee”). Memphis legend Jim Dickinson is on hand with his band The Dixie Flyers, and Tom Dowd produces the session. And – oddity of oddities – Sam, Hard and Heavy actually won a Grammy® award for best liner notes. (I dunno about “best,” but they sure are, well, idiosyncratic.)

As is sometimes the case with this, where an artist is backed by ace players, the support team threatens to overwhelm the ostensible front man. “Homework” features an uptempo arrangement and a horn accompaniment that’s nothing short of thrilling. And the understated guitar solo is pretty ace, too. But Samudio sounds as if he’s struggling to keep up with it all. (To be fair, so might you, but then you’re not cutting an LP for Atlantic, are you?)

That’s the case on many of the other cuts as well. “15° Capricorn Asc.” (a Samudio original) chugs along, and Samudio gamely sings his bit (he’s oddly low in the mix throughout most of the record) but one wonders what the late Otis Redding might have done with this often top-shelf material. Mike Utley‘s organ solo is exciting stuff; Samudio eggs him along, with shouts of, “Work it! C’mon! Push!” The Sweet Inspirations are suitably sweet and inspiring on “Lonley Avenue,” and Samudio comes briefly to the fore for a gospel-flavored “I Know It’s too Late/Starchild.” In fact, as the all-star band lets loose on the track, it feels not unlike a Memphis answer to George Harrison‘s sprawling All Things Must Pass sessions.

Sam, Hard and Heavy is no sort of guilty pleasure like Lord Sutch and Heavy Friends; Samudio can sing, whereas Screaming Lord Sutch most certainly could not. But Sam’s album does share that singer-in-over-his-head vibe just a bit. Still, the songs and musicianship on hand make this a must-hear. Real Gone Music is to be commended – as ever – for rescuing another worthy album from undeserved obscurity.

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:, , ,
Posted in r&b, rawk, reissue, review | No Comments »

Album Review: Bobbi Humphrey – Dig This!

Wednesday, February 13th, 2013

Some jazz purists might look down their noses and sniff at the style known as soul jazz. And wile I don’t share their point of view, I understand where they’re coming from. Often as not, soul jazz is (or was, during its late 60s -to-early 70s heyday) a case of ace jazz cats making music acceptable enough for the masses who find regular jazz to inaccessible, too out-there. And with its folding in influences of rock, rhythm & blues and even disco, soul jazz can seem – in the eyes and ears of its detractors, at least – as the worst of all possible worlds, a sellout.

But I tend to look past that, and in return find some really fun music that evokes a time and place in pop culture. The best soul jazz – really just jazz with more conventional melodic forms – can move the listener in a way that the more cerebral stuff might not.

At the tender age of 21, flautist Bobbi Humphrey had already secured a contract with the highly esteemed Blue Note label, and cut Dig This! as her followup to her debut of the previous year, Flute In. While Humphrey’s lyrical flute work is always out front, able backing provides her songs with the texture they need. Humphrey’s strength lay not in compositional skills: all eight pieces on Dig This! are covers or written by others. But this music is – thanks in large part to the deft, expanisive arrangements – the kind of thing that movies get made around. “Smiling Faces Sometimes” focuses more on the underlying riff than the signature melody, and some way-funky clavinet and electric guitar make this nearly the equal of the original. When Humphrey spars with guitarist David Spinozza near the song’s end, it’s a thrill; Wade Marcus‘ sympathetic string arrangement only heightens the vibe.

“Virtue” is an abstract piece, closer in some ways to Miles Davis‘ Bitches Brew than any sort of soul jazz. Davis sideman Ron Carter is the bassist throughout Dig This!, by the way. “I Love Every Little Thing About you” sounds like the theme to a film of TV show of the era, with its bright and catchy melody, shuffling proto-disco drums and more of those funky bass and clavinet breaks.

Taken as a whole, the music on Dig This! can reward close listening, revealing some exciting playing and arrangement. Or it can serve as pleasant, uptempo background music of the sort that doesn’t insist upon total attention. It’s the rare album that succeeds on both levels. Long unavailable in any form, Dig This! got a well-deserved re-release – its fist ever in digital format – by Real Gone Music in very late 2012.

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:, ,
Posted in instrumental, jazz, reissue, review, soul | No Comments »

Album Review: Rick Wakeman – No Earthly Connection

Monday, February 4th, 2013

I had my initial doubts about this one, and with good reason. Among music fans, Rick Wakeman is a polarizing figure. One either loves his work or despises it. For those in the former camp, his keyboard playing, composing and arranging show a deft, assured and endlessly creative master. Both as a highly in-demand sessioner (that ‘s him on David Bowie‘s “Changes,” Cat Stevens‘ “Morning Has Broken” and Black Sabbath‘s “Sabbra Cadabra,” to name but three of countless contributions he’s made) and as an on-again-off-again member of Yes (five times so far), his work is often exciting. But to his detractors, he’s the visible symbol of everything that was wrong and excessive with rock in the 1970s.

His breakout solo album, 1973′s The Six Wives of King Henry VIII established him as a potent force, and his followup albums were also quite good, though they didn’t quite scale the heights of The Six Wives. By 1976, Wakeman had settled into recording with a steady band he called the English Rock Ensemble. Still interested in conceptual/thematic works, No Earthly Connection concerns itself with big ideas. The music remains keyboard-heavy – what else would you expect? – but the Ensemble is prominently featured as well. Despite his high-falutin’ musical goals, Wakeman has always been a somewhat grounded Everyman type: remember that he stood out like a sore thumb among Yes’ ascetic vegetarian types; it’s easy to picture him with a pint of lager and a turkey leg (these day’s he’s a calmed-down teetotaler). Oh, and a billowing cape. Always a cape.

“Music Reincarnate Part I: The Warning” has plenty of string sounds and fragile, effecte section, but it features lots of funky Clavinet and some very Chris Squire-ish bass playing (courtesy of Roger Newell). The music sounds very much like a cross between Alan Parsons Project and Gentle Giant: the former is recalled through the album’s ambitious-yet-catchy arrangement flourishes, while the latter comes to mind via the tricky time signature changes and complex vocal arrangements (Ashley Holt is in fine form throughout). “Part II” rocks harder and highlights Tony Fernandez‘ drum work, while Wakeman shows us what it might sound like if Stevie Wonder went prog.

By “Part IV” things get a little showbizzy and move away from rock-centric styles, what with some trumpet figures and choral-sounding vocal bits; by this point No Earthly Connection starts to feel a bit more like soundtrack music (Wakeman’s most recent album had been the soundtrack for Lisztomania). But the dynamics keep things interesting. “Part V” gets pretty far into the weeds, featuring vocal snippets that float in and out of the mix while Wakeman provides an atmospheric musical bed. Here, soe of the chanted vocals may cause the listener to think of Spinal Tap‘s spoken intro to “Stonehenge.” A bit pompous and silly to be sure, but fun nonetheless. And the analog synth solos are predictably tasty. Once the five-part “Music Incarnate” suite ends, the remaining two tracks (also lengthy) continue the vibe (and, one supposes, story line of sorts). But it’s the keyboard work – busy, glistening harpsichord lines all over “The Prisoner,” for example – that keeps thing moving.

If you like pianos, organs, Mellotrons, Moogs and all sort of other keyboard instruments, you’ll find plenty to like on No Earthly Connection, but it’s overall a more mainstream (instrument-wise) record than Wakeman’s earlier works. Gene Sculatti‘s liner notes gamely attempt to place the album in historical context, but his overall tone seems to be (I’m paraphrasing here) “Rick Wakeman did a lot of great stuff. Also, there’s this album.” Still, fans of Wakeman’s work will want to hear No Earthly Connection, and Real Gone Music is once again to be commended for rescuing an obscurity from the cutout bin of history (No Earthly Connection has never been released digitally in the Western Hemisphere until now).

Follow “the_musoscribe” on Twitter and get notified
when new features, reviews and essays are published.

Tags:, ,
Posted in prog, reissue, review | 1 Comment »

« Older Entries