Kevin Ayers, The BBC Sessions 1970-1976
(Hux). For a guy who never had a chart record (even in the lowest
rungs), Kevin Ayers sure managed to record a lot of BBC sessions in the
1970s. Several other BBC compilations preceded this two-CD set, which
repeats some, though not all, of what's been previously issued from
such sessions. One of the anthology's flaws is that it doesn't clearly
mark what has never appeared elsewhere; maybe designating such tracks
with asterisks would cut down on impulse purchases from discerning
shoppers, but it would sure help fans in straightening out what's
where. Disregarding this, it's a quite good, entertaining, and dare one
say intellectually stimulating sampler of work from his prime, even if
the earlier material on disc one is clearly superior to the tracks on
the second CD.
If you like Ayers, it doesn't get much better than the 1970 material
here, the first four songs featuring various members of his former
group the Soft Machine in the backing group (including Robert Wyatt on
drums and very active backing vocals). It's an invigorating mix of
witty whimsy, art-rock indulgence, improvisational jazz, and absolutely
unpredictable see-saws between profundity and inspired silliness. To
name a few highlights, "You Say You Like My Hat" is a childishly
infectious ditty that would do Syd Barrett proud, Wyatt's scatting
backing vocals very much to the fore. The graceful, haunting "Lady
Rachel" is a solid contender for his best song, here performed with his
band the Whole World (including a teenaged Mike Oldfield on guitar),
while "Shooting at the Moon," also with the Whole World, is an
excellent, ferociously woozy, jazzy update of the early Soft Machine
song "Jet Propelled Photograph." The mood lightens for the six tracks
from 1972, on which Ayers' voice and guitar is accompanied only by
bassist-singer Archie Leggett, including some of his more celebrated
and accessible tunes ("Butterfly Dance," "Whatevershebringswesing") and
a cover of the pop standard "Falling in Love Again."
With 1973-76 recordings, disc two might be less satisfying as it has a
less idiosyncratic, more mainstream rock sound. Still, Ayers'
diffident, almost tossed-off humor shines pretty strongly, and the
songs include some of his better-known numbers, such as "Oh What a
Dream," "Lady Rachel" (a 1974 version), and "Stranger in Blue Suede
Shoes." The sound quality's not always top-of-the-line, but it's always
listenable, ranging from fair (not very often) to very good (most
of the time). Overall, the compilation might not be a match for the
studio recordings, but they're quite worthwhile for any Ayers fan. It
contains some uncommon songs; the arrangements sometimes differ
substantially from the more familiar versions; and Ayers, unlike some
artists at BBC sessions, often seems intent on presenting a unique
performance, rather than just more or less re-creating his records.
Chicago
Blues Reunion, Buried Alive in the
Blues [DVD]. The
Chicago Blues Reunion is a large group whose members include several
esteemed blues and blues-rock veterans, among them Barry Goldberg, Nick
Gravenites, Tracy Nelson, Corky Siegel, Harvey Mandel, and Sam Lay.
This DVD mixes performance footage (all taken from a concert in Berwyn,
IL in October, 2004) of the band with interviews and a few archive
clips (some of them silent). Although there's considerable material of
interest here, it's a bit of an odd jumble that's not wholly a document
of the Chicago Blues Reunion itself, and not wholly a history of the
Chicago blues scene in which these players were involved. It's some of
both, and not nearly comprehensive or rigorously organized enough to be
an overall history of the Chicago blues scene, or even an overall
history of these specific players' involvement in that community.
Instead, it presents the musicians telling stories about themselves and
each other, usually rooted in their coming-of-age experiences as young
blues or blues-influenced artists in the 1960s, with additional context
supplied by interviews with non-Chicago Blues Reunion members like
critic Joel Selvin and guitarists Buddy Guy and B.B. King.
The stories in the interviews are the highlights, like Barry Goldberg
remembering the battle to win Muddy Waters' respect and playing with
Bob Dylan at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival; Harvey Mandel recalling
joining Canned Heat as an emergency fill-in, and playing Woodstock just
a few days later; and various memories of the excitement and novelty of
being among the first whites to venture into Chicago clubs to check out
the blues first-hand in the early and mid-'60s. While the bits of
archive footage are interesting, including silent sequences of the
young Paul Butterfield and Elvin Bishop in Chicago clubs and sound
clips of the Electric Flag, there's not enough to make it worth viewing
on that account alone. The scenes of the Chicago Blues Reunion in
performance are well done, and in addition to providing whatever
thematic center this DVD has, they present a solid if somewhat
workmanlike lineup of respected veterans. This underscores their
function as a link to the classic Chicago blues sound, as Selvin notes,
at a time when the original greats like Waters and Howlin' Wolf can't
be seen anymore, and the closest you could come was to see people who did see them or play with them.
Although the focus of this is too scattered to recommend to general
blues fans, admirers of these specific musicians may enjoy what they
have to offer in both the interviews and performances here. (It should
be noted that Sam Lay, most famous as a drummer, only vocalizes in his
onstage footage with the Chicago Blues Reunion.) Accompanying the DVD
is a full 14-song live CD of the band, mixing original material by
Gravenites, Nelson, and Mandel with covers of classics by the likes of
Slim Harpo and Willie Dixon. It's unfortunate, however, that there are
no credits detailing who sings and plays what on each track.
The
Delmore Brothers, Fifty Miles to
Travel (Ace). This great country duo was in their prime
when the material on this 24-song compilation was recorded for King
from the mid-1940s to the mid-1950s. This isn't the cream of that crop,
as much of that was been collected on an earlier, superior Ace
anthology, Freight Train Boogie.
As a secondary collection, however, it presents some always respectable
and often very good hillbilly music. It concentrates on sides that
hadn't previously been reissued on CD, or reissued at all, including
half a dozen outtakes and alternate takes that hadn't been released
anywhere, and repeating little from the Freight Train Boogie compilation.
While there's some hot country boogie here, there's a little bit more
weight given to folky, more traditional-sounding songs such as "Midnite
Special" and "Dis Train Am Bound for Glory" than there is on the best
Delmore Brothers anthologies. It's often a little more sedate and less
innovative than their best King stuff, but that doesn't mean there
isn't plenty of exceptional harmonizing and bluesy guitar picking (as
on the aptly titled "Fast Express"), occasionally embellished by the
harmonica of Wayne Raney. Although most of these are from the less
traveled corners of the duo's King output, the CD does have one of
their most famous classics, "Blues Stay Away from Me," and -- of more
interest to collectors -- a previously unissued alternate take of the
song. There also unfortunate unflattering slang references to
African-Americans in the otherwise stellar "Mississippi Shore," sung
with a casual geniality suggesting such terminology was hardly out of
the ordinary among the white southern country audience when this single
came out in 1947. The tracks are taken directly from the original
acetates, resulting in a clear sound that's quite exceptional for
reissues of country music from this period.
Jackie
DeShannon, Breakin' It Up on the
Beatles Tour! (RPM). Contrary to what the exploitative
title might have you believe, this was not recorded during a Beatles
tour (though DeShannon was an opening act on their 1964 North American
tour), or even a live album. Instead, it was something of a grab bag of
a dozen tracks that had already been released on Liberty singles
between 1962 and 1964. For all its scattered origins, however, it was a
pretty good compilation of her early-'60s work, though it was neither
definitive nor the very best dozen tracks she did during this period.
The best stuff is extremely good, however, starting with her original
versions of "Needles and Pins" and "When You Walk in the Room," both of
which anticipated some of the elements that would make up folk-rock in
the mid-'60s, and both of which were covered for much bigger hits by
the Searchers. There's also some fine girl group-influenced pop-rock
that she co-wrote with the young Randy Newman ("She Don't Understand
Him Like I Do," "Hold Your Head High"), Jack Nitzsche (the very Phil
Spectoresque "Should I Cry"), and Sharon Sheeley ("You Won't Forget
Me"), as well as a good song Newman wrote alone, "Did He Call Today,
Mama." Some of the other tracks, such as the covers of Buddy Holly's
"Oh, Boy" and "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands," come off as
filler in this company, but overall it's a fairly strong set by this
underrated singer-songwriter. The 2005 CD reissue on RPM adds
considerable value with lengthy historical liner notes and eight bonus
tracks from the same era, including a few standouts, like her
folk-rocky "Needles and Pins" B-side "Till You Say You'll Be Mine," the
zesty orchestrated pop-rocker "Try to Forget Him," and the girl group
goodie "Breakaway." Collectors will also want this for the presence of
three previously unreleased cuts among those bonus tracks, those being
a pure blues-folk reading of "Mean Old Frisco" and the more routine
early-'60s-styled pop numbers "Today Will Have No Night" and "Give Me a
Break."
Lonnie
Donegan, Lonesome Traveller
(Castle). The idea behind this 27-song compilation seems to have been
to cherry-pick Lonnie Donegan's most artistically credible
performances, highlighting, in the words of the back cover blurb, "his
skills as an interpreter of traditional American roots music." So while
there are a few hits here (including the title track), his big skiffle
hits are mostly absent, as are his novelties like "Does Your Chewing
Gum Lose Its Flavour (On the Bedpost Overnight)" and "My Old Man's a
Dustman (Ballad of a Refuse Disposal Officer)." Instead, this favors
relatively obscure tracks from LPs, EPs, and B-sides, from the mid-'50s
all the way up to the mid-'60s. Donegan's style is still too
derivative, and the arrangements too dated (not to say occasionally
corny), for these recordings to exert as much of a hold on modern
listeners as those of, say, Leadbelly and Woody Guthrie, to name two of
Donegan's biggest inspirations. Still, there are some surprises here
for those who dismiss Donegan as a mere popularizing entertainer, if
only in the versatility of the material. There are some 1960
US-recorded pop-rock sides produced by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller
(who also wrote one of them, "Sorry, But I'm Gonna Have to Pass"). Some
arrangements tentatively employ electric guitar and drums (such as a
1959 version of "The House of the Rising Sun"), and while these aren't
exactly folk-rock, they do show that Donegan had an idea to combine
folk material with electric amplification long before folk-rock became
a craze in the mid-'60s. There's rather commercial sounding calypso in
the covers of Mickey & Sylvia's "Love Is Strange" and "I Wanna Go
Home," better known to rock fans as a variation of the folk song
adapted by the Beach Boys on their 1966 hit "Sloop John B." There's
even a 1965 Dylan cover ("Farewell (Fare Thee Well)"), as well as the
occasional track that sounds good on its own terms, like his 1963
rock-ish full-band cover of the folk favorite "500 Miles Away from
Home." This stuff's been reissued so many times over that it's hard to
say exactly who might be snared by this attempt to group it under a
vague concept, but it's not a bad sampler of some of Donegan's better
work, though it shouldn't be picked up in lieu of a greatest hits or
best-of compilation. Note, however, that this version of "Rock Island
Line" is not the original mid-'50s hit, but a different 1956 recording
that wasn't issued at the time.
Rogerio
Duprat, A Banda Tropicalista Do
Duprat (El). Duprat is most known as an arranger of
Brazilian tropicalia music, but did also release music under his own
name. This 1968 album will undoubtedly be of interest to collectors of
'60s tropicalia and/or Brazilian psychedelia, if only because three of
the 12 tracks are actually vocal numbers performed by Os Mutantes
(though two of those are merely covers of the Cowsills' "The Rain, The
Park, and Other Things" and the Beatles' "Lady Madonna"). Overall it's
a bit of an odd endeavor, falling somewhere between easy listening
music and the kind of madcap experimentation more typical of his most
celebrated clients. It's of a higher class than most easy listening
albums, from Brazil or otherwise, however. For even if the
predominantly instrumental material is sometimes cheesy (and sometimes
covers not-so-classic American and British hits of the era such as
"Summer Rain," "Honey," and "Cinderella Rockafella"), the arrangements
are often infused with off-the-wall zany imagination and wit. Nowhere
is this more apparent than the interpretation of "Judy in the
Disguise," which has to be the most vibrant and playful cover of that
classic 1968 hit ever waxed, complete with infectious jazzy Latin
rhythms, birdcalls, and honking horns. The fusion of foreign pop-rock,
sexy soundtrack music, and relatively indigenous Brazilian popular
forms is apparent to some degree on many of the other cuts, though some
of the orchestration is fatuous. Songs by Caetano Veloso and Gilberto
Gil are also given the Duprat treatment here, the soppy strings in
Veloso's "Baby" nicely counterpointed by a (deliberately?) out of tune
strummed guitar. It's doubtful many listeners will totally like or
totally hate this, such is its uneven mix of elements. But most lovers
of pop that doesn't take itself too seriously will get some fun out of
it.
Champion
Jack Dupree with T.S. McPhee, Dupree
'n' McPhee: The 1967 Blue Horizon Session (Ace).
The session at which these 16 tracks were recorded (in 1967, though
there's some speculation it might have been done earlier) was a most
unusual one for Champion Jack Dupree, and to a lesser degree for T.S.
McPhee. Although Dupree was a pianist, not only does he play no piano
here -- there is no piano to
be heard. Instead, the sole accompaniment is the acoustic guitar of
T.S. McPhee, soon to become famous as the figurehead of the British
blues-rock band the Groundhogs. It's an unusual combination, and not
the best or most characteristic Dupree recording. That doesn't mean,
however, that it isn't worthwhile, particularly for some of the more
open-minded fans of traditional-styled acoustic blues. Dupree's vocals
are characteristically warm and inviting on this set of pretty
downhome, rootsy blues, all written by Dupree and McPhee themselves.
McPhee's guitar work might be the most noteworthy aspect of this
recording date, however, even if he didn't get lead billing. His
playing is both proficient and moving, particularly when he unleashes
the snakiest of his slide guitar lines, as he does on "Get Your Head
Happy," "No Meat Blues," and the brisk "Got My Ticket" in particular.
It's a low-key group of recordings, but a pleasantly earthy one. Two of
them, "Get Your Head Happy" and "Easy Is the Way," came out on a
limited-edition 1967 single, and another on a 1997 CD, but all of the
others made their first appearance anywhere on this 2005 compilation.
Mike Furber,
Just a Poor Boy
(Radioactive). The dozen tracks on this obscure Australian rocker's
1967 LP were, as was often the case for the time, culled from a variety
of sources, including two 1966 singles that saw some Australian
regional chart action, "Just a Poor Boy" and "You Stole My Love." It's
fair British Invasion-styled rock, though it doesn't stop with just
imitating overseas trends, as most of the songs are themselves covers
of British and American tunes. Some of the British ones covered, in
fact, are quite obscure: "You Stole My Love" was first done (and
handled much better, to be honest) by Graham Gouldman's mid-'60s band
the Mockingbirds, while "Stop" was an early Moody Blues original.
Furber was an okay but uneven singer, and in fact sounds rather
horribly off-pitch on "Stop."He also seemed to favor fairly tough
R&B material that was actually a little too tough for his ordinary
range, rather in the way British singers like Neil Christian and Dave
Berry recorded some hard R&B that was a little at odds with their
mild, pop-oriented voices. The moody, tuneful Merseybeat-ish beat
ballad "You're Back Again" and the similar (but harder rocking) "Love
Talk" are the standouts, both because they're not overly familiar
songs, and because they're more suited toward Furber's voice than the
soul-R&B stuff. Yet while it's good to have a CD reissue of this
rare album available, as packaging goes, this makes even the skimpiest
bootleg look good. Not only are there no liner notes or original
release labels or dates; there are not even any song titles listed.
(There are, however, two photos, each of them printed three times in
various places on the cover and inner sleeve.)
Dave
Hamilton, Detroit City Grooves
Featuring "Soul Suite" (BGP). Dave Hamilton is known more
as a Detroit soul producer than as a recording artist -- that is, to
the relatively small number of serious soul collectors who are even
aware of who he is. Hamilton did, however, record some material under
his own name, dating all the way back to the mid-1950s. This CD
compilation sticks solely to the instrumental soul-jazz-funk material
the multi-instrumentalist cut between 1967 and the early 1970s, about
half of which would have probably comprised an unreleased 1970 album
called Soul Suite. While four
of the tracks appeared on obscure 1967-71 singles and a couple of
others showed up on CD compilations in the late 1990s, the rest make
their first appearance on this disc. It might not be brilliant or exert
a magnetic pull beyond aficionados of this particular form of groove.
But it's actually quite nice instrumental soul mood music, more
unassuming and easygoing than much of the stuff that's championed by
devotees of this sub-genre. The frequent use of silky guitar lines,
vibes, and Stevie Wonder-like harmonica pushes this a little into
lounge-easy listening territory, but in some of the best senses of that
description. Those who want something a little tougher won't go away
starving, either, as "Brother Ratt" opens with some outer-space
wah-wah, sliding into a nicely funky workout with astral vibes
flourishes. The guitars (often using wah-wah effects) and basses can
get pretty hard-hitting in a smoothly percolating way, particularly on
"Yesterdays," where some just-slightly-dissonant harmonica bleats add a
nice edge. It's a modest collection, but an attractive one, and a more
pleasurable listen than many an acid jazz reissue with more hip
credibility.
Hardin
& York, Tomorrow Today
(RPM). Hardin & York's debut album was quite competent yet
derivative early progressive rock, and derivative of Traffic in
particular. At least, however, it came by its influences quite
honestly, Pete York having drummed behind Stevie Winwood in the Spencer
Davis Group, and Eddie Hardin having joined the Spencer Davis Group
after Winwood left. And the duo does get quite a lot of sound out of
their keyboards and drums, although they had plenty of backup from some
session musicians. Eddie Hardin sings and writes uncannily like Winwood
circa Traffic's "Forty Thousand Headmen" period, but while that's a
good standard to shoot for, therein also lies the problem: it's not
quite as good as the Winwood-paced Traffic, and certainly not as
original. All that noted, if you're looking for something in the mold
of Traffic-lite and keeping your expectations realistically modest,
this is pretty decent stuff. It might be a tad more rooted in soul-pop
than Traffic, but it doesn't suffer for that. Hardin's vocals are
impressively rich and gritty, and his piano and organ quite skillful.
The 2005 CD reissue on RPM adds historical liner notes and four bonus
cuts from the same sessions. These are of the same respectable level of
the rest of the album, if a little more sparsely produced and
gospel-rock-oriented, with the exception of an unnecessary cover of
Chuck Berry's "Rock'n'Roll Music."
Buddy Holly,
The Music of Buddy Holly & the
Crickets: The Definitive Story [DVD] (Universal). Since
the 1980s video The Real Buddy Holly
Story was very good, some fans might have questioned the need
for this entirely separate 100-minute documentary done years later.
This DVD is very good as well, however, and -- remarkably, among
projects of this kind -- really does
concentrate on the music, rather than giving the personal life of the
subject equal or greater priority. The basic outline and highlights of
Holly's career are here, but the real focus is on interviews with
several of his closest surviving associates, including fellow Crickets
Jerry Allison and Joe B. Mauldin; Sonny Curtis; Sonny West, who wrote
Buddy's hits "Oh Boy" and "Rave On"; Peggy Sue Gerson, who married
Allison in the late 1950s and was the inspiration for the title of
"Peggy Sue"; and Carl Bunch and Tommy Allsup, who were part of the
Crickets for Holly's final, ill-fated tour. And these are good interviews, not the sort where
they just tell stories that were funny at the time they happened, but
don't mean much these days. Even for dedicated Holly fans, there are
some little-known stories about both his early days and his brief
period of fame, and some very astute musical analysis by his cohorts.
Particularly interesting are the segments in which it's revealed that
the arrangement for "Maybe Baby" was inspired by Little Richard's
"Lucille"; that the quirkiness of Allison's drum part in the
instrumental break of "That'll Be the Day" is a goof, owing to his
belief that they were only doing a demo; that his classic drum part on
"Peggy Sue" was partially inspired by the percussion on a pop record by
Jaye P. Morgan, "Dawn"; and that the melody for "True Love Ways" was
adapted from a gospel recording by the Angelic Gospel Singers, "I'll Be
Alright." About the only mild criticisms to offer are that the
occasional voiceover narration is a little too dramatic, and that some
of the general details of Holly's rise to fame aren't specifically
covered, but those are minor drawbacks. The extra features are good as
well, including 20 extra minutes of interview material with various of
the participants; the complete clips of all three of the songs Holly
performed on The Ed Sullivan Show;
a sizable booklet with biographical sketches of his musical
collaborators; and a "DVD Juke Box" of 14 of his more interesting,
lesser-known songs that's more worthwhile than you'd think, as montages
of old photos, record sleeves, and memorabilia appear while the tracks
play. Every feature of the DVD, in fact, surpasses the expectations
rock'n'roll fans usually have of these documentary projects.
Gordon
Jackson, Thinking Back
(Sunbeam). Gordon Jackson's only album sounds a little like a Traffic
LP with a singer who isn't in the band. The similarity is really no
surprise, since Traffic men Steve Winwood, Dave Mason, Jim Capaldi, and
Chris Wood all played on the record, and Mason produced. Other notables
with connections to the Traffic family tree or Marmalade label also
appeared, including Luther Grosvenor; Rick Grech, Jim King, and Poli
Palmer of Family; and Julie Driscoll. There's a languid, minor-keyed
jazz-folk-psychedelic vibe to the songs, which have a meditative,
spontaneously pensive air, appealingly sung by Jackson. Touches of
Indian and African music are added by occasional tabla and sitar. What
keeps this from being as memorable as Traffic or some of the other
better late-'60s British psychedelic acts is a certain meandering
looseness to the songs that, while quite pleasant, lacks concision and
focus. That was a quality also heard in the album from the same era by
fellow Marmalade artist Gary Farr, Take
Something With You, and while Thinking
Back is better and more original than Farr's effort, the songs
are more interesting mood pieces with a yearning, mystic tone than they
are outstanding compositions. At times this is like hearing psychedelic
sea shanties (as on "My Ship, My Star"), such is the lilt of the tunes,
though hints of blues and more playful pop-psych whimsy are heard in
cuts like "Me and My Dog." The 2005 CD reissue on Sunbeam adds lengthy
historical liner notes and five bonus tracks, including the non-LP
B-side "A Day at the Cottage"; a haunting, sparse home demo of "My
Ship, My Star"; single mixes of "Song for Freedom" and "Sing to Me
Woman"; and a long version of "Me and My Dog."
The
King's Ransom, The King's Ransom
(Positively 19th Street). The King's Ransom were one of a surprising
number of groups from Allentown, PA (a little more than an hour's drive
from Philadelphia) who made '60s garage rock records. The songs on this
collection (including four takes of one of them, "Elevator Operator")
might not be too remarkable when judged against the average cut
on the Nuggets box set. But
as the style goes, they're pretty decent, though the group didn't have
much of a consistent sound or personality. "Without You," with its
tense clock-ticking beat and false ending, is a quite good brooding
garage rocker; "Ain't That Just Like Me," based on the Searchers'
rave-up arrangement of a Coasters song, is almost as good and wild as
that first-rate Searchers track. Some of the slower numbers drag on in
a lugubrious fashion, and even the uptempo "Shame" is something of a
cliched subdued rant against a no-good girl, though again (one guiltily
admits) rather good as those things go. In line with most other groups
of the period, they quickly changed with the times, getting into
lighter harmony psychedelic pop with "Shadows of Dawn" and the
beguilingly naive, meditative ode to a "Streetcar." Sometimes, too,
they used the kind of florid keyboard arrangements that sounded like
hand-me-downs from the likes of the Left Banke and some of the 1967
Beatles' output. Like much of the rest of the CD, these have a ragged
charm, though the sound is usually only fair, sometimes with audible
surface noise from original discs.
Mushroom, Early in the Morning
(Radioactive). This rare album by this obscure early-1970s Irish
folk-rock outfit is in some ways quite similar to the brand of British
folk-rock pioneered by Fairport Convention in the late 1960s and early
1970s. Traditional Celtic folk-flavored melodies are given both
delicate and hard-rocking treatments, the standard rock instruments
given a British Isles folk tinge with embellishments of violin,
electric mandolin, harpsichord, tin whistle, wind chimes, recorder, and
bodhran. The similarity isn't extreme, however, as to start with the
production's far funkier and more homespun -- not a bad thing at all,
but a trait that needs to be noted in case you're expecting something
on the order of Fairport's Full House.
Just as crucially, there are definitely more influences from pop,
psychedelia, and progressive rock in Mushroom's particular spin on the
British Isles folk-rock genre. While at times this is very much in the
rapid-fire lickety-split, ferociously rocked-up reels'n'jigs style that
Fairport and such often used in the early '70s, there are also some
nearly exquisite passages of melancholy Celtic folk balladry with a
mild contemporary rock slant, such as "Tenpenny Piece" and the title
track. Then there's the psychedelic guitar sustain and wah-wah weaving
around the violin in "Crying," which otherwise would be a rather
standard British late-'60s pop-rock song. And there's also the almost
berserk keyboards of "Johnny the Jumper," where Fairport-style
folk-rock meets the distorted roller rink sounds of early-'60s Joe Meek
productions. It's far more naive a record than Fairport Convention or
Steeleye Span ever made, and less vocally and instrumentally
accomplished, not to say more rudimentarily produced. Yet for those
very reasons, it's a fairly nifty relic in the genre, if only because
it's not just an emulation of obvious influences, but a somewhat odd
and original twist on the format.
Alastair
Riddell, Space Waltz
(RPM). Make no mistake about it -- this record would have not existed
had it not been for David Bowie. It's not just that Riddell himself
affected an androgynous look rather like Bowie's early-'70s visage.
This New Zealander also sounded
very much like Bowie in the 1970-72 period, with catchy pop melodies,
glam inflections to the rhythm and vocal phrasing, and even the
frequent allusions to science fiction in the lyrics. Bowie himself had
passed through that phase by the time this was issued in Riddell's
native New Zealand in 1975, but given how slowly trends traveled to
that part of the world in those days, it might well have seemed pretty
cutting edge. There's no getting past its blatant imitativeness, but if
you are the kind who likes the early David Bowie sound enough to be
satisfied by unoriginal approximations of the real thing, this is
pretty good for what it is. Riddell goes through a gamut of glam
affectations with convincing confidence, and if he's not the singer
Bowie is, he's still okay. Nor is he on Bowie's level as a songwriter,
but "Seabird" has the druggy, drawn-out downerisms of Bowie's bleaker
side down pretty well, and both the 1974 New Zealand hit single "Out on
the Street" and the melodramatically arching "Love the Way He Smiles"
have a fairly authentic Ziggy
Stardust outtake aura. According to the historical liner notes
of the 2005 CD reissue on RPM, "most of the tracks were based on the
Tellurians, a genetically engineered race from the planet Telluria
whose inhabitants use sex purely as a reproductive process where no
emotional love is involved." Well, you can't really tell without having
read whatever book(s) sparked this brainstorm, but this doesn't mean
this isn't a modestly enjoyable curio, little-known internationally
before its 2005 CD reissue in the UK.
Twiggy
& Linda Thorson, A Snapshot of
Swinging London (El/Cherry Red). Twiggy and Linda Thorson
were far more known for stardom in other fields than music in the late
1960s, Twiggy as a supermodel and Linda Thorson as an actress (in the
role of Tara King in the television series The Avengers). They did, however,
each record some singles at the time that aren't bad, even though they
were likely only done as cash-ins on their celebrity. This compilation
brings together both sides of the first two singles by Twiggy (from
1967), as well as seven tracks done by Linda Thorson in 1968. The
Twiggy sides were produced by Tommy Scott, perhaps best known to
British Invasion fans for having both produced and written some songs
for Them; he also wrote or co-wrote all of the tunes here, one of them
a collaboration with Phil Coulter, who wrote Them's great "I Can Give
You Everything" with Scott. Nothing here, be warned, is anything like
"I Can Give You Everything." Instead, these are slight if atmospheric
songs with a period Swinging London pop-rock flavor, vaguely along the
lines of some of the material the likes of Marianne Faithfull and
Sandie Shaw were trotting out. Twiggy's voice is thin and shaky, but
does have a fetching fragility, and it should be noted that these
weren't one-offs; she made other records, off and on, over the next two
decades. Thorson is a better singer, and favors more soul-pop-oriented
arrangements and songs on her seven numbers, produced by British pop
singer Kenny Lynch. The tunes, however, are on the bland side, though
they're pleasantly credible reflections of trends in the lighter part
of soul music of the era. It was a nice idea to package together
material by these two singers on one CD, as they're connected by their
status as '60s British-based young trendy woman media personalities who
made rare records as a sideline. The packaging could have been more
elaborate, however, with brief liner notes and incomplete details
regarding on which discs these tracks were originally released.
Scott
Walker, Classics & Collectibles
(Mercury/Universal). While there's both much fine music here and many
rarities that the dedicated Scott Walker collector will want to have,
this two-CD anthology unfortunately falls into the "not quite one or
the other" category. Disc one collects 22 songs from his commonly
available early catalog, all previously issued on CD, mostly from his
early solo releases (though some are by the Walker Brothers). Most of
disc two, however, had not been released on CD before this compilation,
drawing from numerous rare late-'60s and early-'70s discs, including
several songs from his rare 1969 LP Scott
Sings Songs from His TV Series, one ("The Gentle Rain") from a
1966 EP, and assorted singles and soundtracks. Here's the rub: the
commonly available songs on disc one, which focus on his most subdued
early ballads, are by far better than the rarities on disc two, which
assembles far slushier middle-of-the-road pop and includes no Walker
originals. So the general fan who wants to hear his best (or at least
better) early stuff is stuck with a companion disc that's not as good
as or stylistically compatible with the first CD, while serious
collectors willing to put up with the pop covers for the sake of
completism are lumbered with a whole disc of material they already have
(likely more than once, in many cases). A Classics & Collectibles
anthology for Dusty Springfield suffered from the same problem, though
at least there the quality was pretty high on almost all the songs,
whether rare or not.
If you're still interested in accepting the CD for what it is, disc one
is very good, containing highlights of his early work like "If You Go
Away," "The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore" (with the Walker Brothers,
presented here in a mono mix that makes John Walker's vocal more
prominent), "In My Room" (also with the Walkers), "Jackie," "Next,"
"Plastic Palace People," and "Just Say Goodbye." The accent's on moody
ballads, but there is room for some of his acerbic, uptempo Jacques
Brel covers, like "Mathilde." Still, it's not a best-of, not when it's
missing such undoubted highlights as "The Seventh Seal" and "The Old
Man's Back Again," for starters. As for disc two, once you get past the
shock of hearing him croon straight pop songs and standards without
much of an edge (by the likes of John Barry, Henry Mancini, Paul Anka,
Jimmy Webb, Dory Previn, and Antonio Carlos Jobim, with Randy Newman's
"Cowboy" sneaking in somehow), it's really not that bad, though nothing
you'd play to convince novices of Walker's hipness. Walker simply had a
superb voice, and even if the material and arrangements are often
blandly sentimental ("The Impossible Dream" indeed!), he does croon
these so well that most of them can be enjoyed on at least a modest
level. Some are easier to take than others, of course, and it's a
little saccharine in one concentrated dose. The larger point is,
however, that it's really the rarities that give this package any
value. If this rare material is to be issued at all, it should be
issued as a stand-alone rarities disc; as a double-CD of nothing but
rarities; or, by going the whole hog and putting out the rare albums,
as flawed as they may be, with bonus tracks. This sort of compromise
anthology doesn't wholly please anyone.
Various Artists, Alternative Animals
(Alternative Animals/Shock). Accurately billed on the front cover as
"an interactive documentary on the Australian punk scene 1976-1979,"
this two-disc set combines a CD of rare and unreleased tracks from the
period with a CD-ROM containing graphics, interviews, and video
footage. On some levels, it's a thrilling multimedia overview of an
obscure (certainly on an international level) but interesting genre for
aficionados. Yet at the same time, it's a somewhat frustrating viewing
and listening experience due to some limitations and shortcomings in
the packaging and presentation. The CD component, for one thing,
doesn't identify which tracks are "rare" and which ones were previously
unissued. Nor are many details provided about when they were recorded,
except for the two Saints cuts, identified as live recordings from
April 21, 1977. On its own terms, the CD is decent and quite energetic
(if somewhat derivative) early punk music, mixing a few names known to
international punk collectors with others that even experts might have
never heard. The Saints, Radio Birdman, and Boys Next Door (who evolved
into the Birthday Party) are all represented, as are the Australian
band named X (not to be confused with the more famous Los Angeles act
of that name), as well as less celebrated groups like Manikins (whose
"Premonition" is the lone cut to approach pop-punk), the Chosen Few,
and the Leftovers.
More interesting, and more
frustrating, is the accompanying CD-ROM. Its assets include a wealth of
video and audio interviews with members of dozens of bands, as well as
vintage video footage of musical performances by the Saints, the Chosen
Few, the Boys Next Door, and the Manikins. This must be among the
earliest, if not the
earliest, footage of Nick Cave, who performs two songs as singer of the
Boys Next Door. (There's also an interview clip from the period in
which he's asked if he has anything to say, to which he responds, "Yes,
but don't ask me what. Which is what you would have asked me.") Also
included are interviews with non-musical contributors to the scene
(such Bruce Milne, founder of the Au Go Go Records label), band family
trees, illustrations of (and some excerpts from) a surprising abundance
of vintage fanzines, sleeves and basic information about late-'70s
Australian punk records, and recollections of important venues. Yet for
all the stuff to browse through, it's bulky and awkward to navigate,
and if there's a way to make the tiny videos larger, it has escaped
this user. It would also have been a great help if just a little more
context was provided -- a basic bio and discography of each band, for
instance -- to orient those who might not be familiar with much of this
stuff (which would include most rock fans from outside Australia, and
quite a number within Australia). Make no mistake -- serious punk fans
with a deep reservoir of patience will find enough to keep them
interested for hours, so much material is there to investigate on the
CD-ROM. With just a little more attentiveness to user-friendliness,
however, it would be a more entertaining and informative document of an
interesting scene that's not likely to benefit from such in-depth
treatment often (or, perhaps, ever again).
Various Artists, My First Day Without You: New Rubble Vol. 1
(Past & Present). As Nick Saloman rightfully points out in
his liner notes, compilations of rare 1960s British rock tend to focus
on raw R&B bands, psychedelia, and the hybrid of mod, R&B, and
psychedelia known as freakbeat. In comparison, the more straightforward
variety of British pop-rock has been only lightly represented. This
compilation of 20 songs from scarce singles is one step toward
correcting that imbalance, introducing the "cleanbeat" genre, to quote
a term used on the back cover. As you might expect, the songs are
shaded with Merseybeat and light Beatles influences, though not
exclusively so. It's not great music; if you want really good
non-Beatles mid-'60s British pop-rock, you're much better off with
best-ofs for the Searchers, Dave Clark Five, the Hollies, and the like.
Still, it's usually pleasant at the least, and sometimes better than
that, even if some of the material's rather forgettably generic. Take
the best half of this and you've have a pretty good compilation,
including the constantly key-changing "Anytime" by the Llan; the peppy,
moody Merseybeat of "Lies" by Johnny Sandon, who fronted the Searchers
before they split to go on their own; the brooding, organ-toned
"Jacqueline" by Bryan & the Brunelles; the Hi-Fis' quality cover of
Chuck Jackson's "I Keep Forgetting"; the West Five's cover of Rod
Argent's "If It Don't Work Out"; the Blue Rondos' Joe Meek-produced "I
Don't Want Your Lovin' No More"; and the Mockingbirds' Beach
Boys-influenced soul-pop ballad "I Can Feel We're Parting," co-written
by band member and future 10CC guy Graham Gouldman.
Various Artists, Phil's Spectre II: Another Wall of
Soundalikes (Ace). Phil's
Spectre II: Another Wall of Soundalikes is very much along the
same lines as its predecessor, Phil's
Spectre: A Wall of Soundalikes. It's not the best group of Phil
Spector soundalike productions; few of these two dozen obscure songs
are strong enough that they sound as if they should have been hits; and
while the Spector influence is strong to overwhelming on all of these
tracks, you would certainly not mistake all of them for actual Spector
productions in a blindfold test. But they're quite enjoyable for what
they are, and certainly will be enjoyed by Phil Spector fanatics,
including as they do many of the Wall of Sound trademarks, particularly
in the dense orchestral production and some of the skipping, pummeling
rhythms. Plus, from a pure collector standpoint, this is awash with big
names, and not only via the little-known tracks by stars like the
Righteous Brothers, the Beach Boys, Mary Wells, Dobie Gray (whose "No
Room to Cry" is a highlight), Ruby & the Romantics, the Four Tops,
the Knickerbockers, Joe South, Connie Stevens, and Nino Tempo &
April Stevens. There are also numerous interesting names lurking in the
credits, like Shadow Morton (who produced the Goodies' "The Dum Dum
Ditty," subsequently done by the Shangri-Las); Harry Lookofsky, the
orchestra leader for Reparata & the Delrons, and father of the Left
Banke's Michael Brown; Jeff Barry, who wrote Reparata & the
Delrons' "I'm Nobody's Baby Now"; David Gates, who arranged the
cuts by Connie Stevens and Suzy Wallis; Bob Lind, who wrote the
Satisfactions' "Bring It All Down," produced by Jack Nitzsche; Al
Kooper, who co-wrote and co-produced Eight Feet's "Bobby's Come a Long
Long Way"; and Van McCoy, who wrote and produced the Fantastic
Vantastics' "Gee What a Boy." Then there's Clydie King, who did "The
Thrill Is Gone" long before becoming a backup session singer for
numerous stars, and Bobby Coleman's "(Baby) You Don't Have to Tell Me,"
covered for a hit in the UK by the Walker Brothers. There are also some
of the most diligent imitations of the Righteous Brothers ever waxed,
from Kane & Abel, the Dreamlovers, and the Knickerbockers.
Detailed notes on these rarities by Mick Patrick add to the
appreciation of this odd but entertaining journey through the web of
sound Phil Spector spun throughout the industry.
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