Britain was the spawning ground for many of the most innovative rock groups of the sixties, with an impressive list of bands that virtually changed the face of popular music. Contemporary listeners have little difficulty identifying the Beatles, Stones, the Who, Cream and other giants of that era.
Mention The Gods, however, and you will likely be met with a blank stare.
Notable for reasons other than their output, they had a rotating cast of members that would move on to find greater success elsewhere. Mick Taylor and Greg Lake both logged time as Gods, though they were gone well before the initial recording sessions commenced for Genesis.
Interestingly enough, two fourths of the lineup on this album (Ken Hensley and Lee Kerslake) would be later play a major part in Uriah Heep.
We are now getting ahead of the story. Time to blow the dust off of a forgotten disc.
Progressive rock was in its infancy in 1968, though there were many aggregations who were more than prepared to propel mainstream fare into the outer limits. Psychedelia was still very much in vogue, though the free form jams that were a product of lysergic influences began to give way to more traditional formats. The British blues movement brought long improvisations in line with 12 bar structures. The Gods had been playing the blues, though they went in another direction, embraced the spirit of the times and adopted the trippy sounds of the era.
You can hear the beginnings of what would become the signature, Hammond-driven sound of Uriah Heep in the early 70's, due to the dominant instrumental presence of Hensley. He handles lead vocal chores here as well. The end product is decent and well worth listening to, though it is an unremarkable set. Exceptions are the brilliant "I Never Know", which features a dreamlike mellotron part and "Looking Glass" with vocals that threaten to scrape the stratosphere.
Redolent of the sounds that were prevalent in the late 60's, there are few surprises if you are familiar with contemporary music of that period. You can hear stylistic traces of Vanilla Fudge and Steppenwolf in places.
To their credit, no truly horrible songs spoil the proceedings, although the tiresome, random sound effects that link the tracks do not jell with the music that is presented. There is a feverish imagination at work that carries the material and makes it seem more interesting than it actually is. Again, this is a more of a curio for those who want to trace the early flowerings of the prog movement, though it is a respectable effort.
In the past decade, increasing dependancy on digital manipulation, coupled with the advent of bands who sound like they have spent more time in marketing courses than the garage, has contributed to a sorry state of affairs for contemporary music lovers. Prevailing trends being as they are, it is always refreshing to hear the work of an artist who has chosen to swim against the tide
Revolutions are often born out of dissatisfaction with mediocrity. For those who fear for the impoverishment of creativity, help is on the way.
Reno Bo has moved away from a support role (playing bass for Mooney Suzuki and Albert Hammond Jr.) to step into the spotlight with his debut solo album, Happenings and Other Things. Well crafted songs and uncluttered arrangements are the rule, rather than the exception, making this disc an absolute pleasure to listen to. Adam Schlesinger's production job is exceptional, providing sharp definition to each instrument, especially the drum sound, which is reminiscent of the aural punch achieved by John Bonham in the seventies.
There is definite stake driven firmly into the ground from outset on this record, which invites the listener to enjoy properly constructed songs, with verses as strong as the choruses, imaginative bridges and a sympathetic supporting cast of musicians making it all work.
Synthetic noises and vocals that are buried in shallow effects are nowhere to be found.
Indeed, it is only soulful, power pop/rock inflected material that you encounter here and it doesn't come any better than "There's a Light". Kicking in strong, this is the perfect selection for the opening slot with a tightly edited intro that wastes no time moving into the infectious chorus. The turnaround change that leads back into the verses is the icing on the cake.
Successfully channelling Terry Gilliam's cartoon work with the Python troupe mixed with a dash of the stylistic devices used by Heinz Edelmann in the Yellow Submarine movie, the accompanying video was conceived and executed by Bo himself.
Inevitably, there will be comparisons to those acts that have inspired the retro feel that colors this work. Bo is simply carrying on a tradition of making good, straight ahead rock and roll, which is infused with his own particular vision and observations. For those that need a reference point, all of the positive attributes that made Big Star, Badfinger and Led Zep so engaging are present, though it is all filtered through a modern lens.
Vocally, Reno has a laid back style that is all his own, which perfectly suits his creations. Not once does he strain to hit a note or reach outside of his range. More importantly, you are actually hearing his singing, unencumbered by the trendy pitch correction devices that have caused so many current recordings to lose personality. Stellar harmonies also factor in heavily throughout.
Much is to be commended here, ranging from stripped down acoustic performances ("Baby, You're Not Feelin' Me Tonight") to full band ravers ("Higher Tonight", "Shake Me Up"). Masterfully sequenced, the record grabs your ear early on, holds interest and whether by design or happy accident, picks up the pace through the "back nine". There is a palpable adrenaline rush right up to finish line, with a slight downshift on the last track, the excellent "I See Stars".
Solidly stomping, "Sugar Suite Blues" is my personal pick, featuring a killer riff and adroit drum fills that would not have sounded out of place on Physical Graffiti. I mean this as a sincere compliment. In the heyday of LPs, this tune would have made for a killer start to side two. In fact, one thought recurred constantly as I listened:
The vinyl version of this gem would sound incredible.
Overall, Happenings and Other Things makes a glorious first impression, which only gets better with subsequent spins. If this is a harbinger of the coming revolution in music, then sign me up. Reno Bo has created something that will stand the test of time and it is more than evident that there is a major talent here that deserves to be heard. I'm already looking forward to the next one.
"There's a Light" is the new single, released today.
Check out this link to grab your own copy of the album.
Horrific new trends in music surface every few months, though they usually fizzle out (mercifully) after a short run of insane popularity with the masses. This cycle of madness is usually pretty reliable, though there are some forms of entertainment that return on cue after a period of exile and are welcomed back warmly, simply because the blueprint was designed to cheat the bounds of time.
Quietly, with an unerring sense of majestic timing, the weathered ship that flies the flag of heartfelt rock and roll regularly sails back into port, bowsprit encrusted with the build up of countless nautical miles logged in far flung waters. Each return arouses the same stirrings of excitement in people as it had the last time around.
Why?
Only you know the answer to that one.
Please allow me a moment to make a tired point by picking on the music of the late eighties.
In short, it was completely putrid, with garbage genres piling up in a fetid heap. Clattering, synthesized sludge befouled the airwaves and if you wanted to hear a rock band, most were trying to balance a fucking poodle on their empty heads while channeling embarrassing, third rate Van Halen, with little of the panache that the maestro himself injected into his own great, early records. Too harsh? Dust off some vintage glam-metal circa 1988 and we'll see how long it takes before you reach for a sharp object to perforate both of your ear drums, thus making it go away.
Along came Masters of Reality, who essentially distanced themselves from these train wrecks by indulging in the sounds of the early seventies. Getting down to basics, they made a stellar rock LP (with Rick Rubin in the director's chair) that was redolent of a time when quality sold the song, though they explored very little new territory. Didn't matter one iota, as it was real.
Fast forward twenty years.
Thanks to the auto tuner and a severe dearth of creativity, today's "hit-makers" make most of the idiot groups from that period sound like Mozart by comparison.
No joke.
Which brings us to the curious case of Bigelf and their most recent (2008) offering, Cheat the Gallows. Apropos of Masters of Reality's 1988 debut, Bigelf have turned the same trick by embracing the sounds of a bygone era in a sea of contemporary drivel. To say that these guys sound like (insert classic band name here) is akin to giving a five hour dissertation on the health benefits of regular breathing to an assembled group of seasoned medical professionals.
Much thought and work went into the production of Cheat the Gallows.
Raising the ghosts of previous grandiose epics with stylistic tips of the top hat to just about everyone, they blend the Beatles, Floyd, Sabbath, ELP, Uriah Heep and Alice Cooper with a host of other styles into a a song cycle that feels cartoonish at times, yet you will appreciate every nuance that the animators are tossing at you. Remarkably ambitious, this disc grabs your attention very quickly and never allows for a moment where you might want to run off to make a sandwich in lieu of checking out what might happen next.
Honing their act, under the radar, since 1991, Bigelf have released a couple of discs, undergone lineup shuffles and built a fan base, though I had not heard of them until recently.
Better late than never.
Great song writing, chops to spare and the employment of recording techniques that hark back to the golden age of analog are charms that prove very difficult to resist. If you have listened to a wide variety of "heavy" acts from the 70s and like them, then Cheat the Gallows will slip easily into your collection. Coming close to the wealth of fine ideas that Iommi and company were knee-deep in during the Sabbath Bloody Sabbath/Sabotage era, there is much to celebrate here. "Hydra" and "The Evils of Rock and Roll" both bear the stamp of those LPs, though there is much more going on.
What works best over the course of these ten, tightly arranged songs is the lightning pace at which motifs change, often at several intervals within the same tune. There is no time allotted to become glassy-eyed by any overlong theme. Providing much comfort food for those whose formative years were shaped by bands that actually gave thought to treating an album as a continuous performance, Bigelf adopt the approach of the concept piece, albeit with a wink. Conjuring up Floyd's salad days, you can almost imagine Richard Wright all over the keys in "Money, It's Pure Evil" with layered harmonies on those big choruses.
Big is the operative word.
Elsewhere, the bombastic elements of Queen surface in mini-operatic form, with multi-part suites flying in every direction. None of these interludes ever overstay their welcome. The set is book ended with a grand entrance and closes in an almost jokey, music hall style. Though the "goodnight folks" is handled in a clever fashion.
Gripping from start to finish, this is a recording that begs to be listened to in the way that it was likely intended: vinyl format. It is easy to play the "that sounds just like" game with this material, however, I would recommend simply enjoying the ride.
Nothing new under the sun, though this is a very pleasant surprise.
Tight, straight up, late 70's rock and/or roll always goes down better than a second beer and Ram Jam delivered just that with their sophomore disc, which also turned out to be their last.
Their smoking overhaul of Leadbelly's "Black Betty" was a fair sized hit, earning them a profile, so it would stand to reason that a built in audience would be guaranteed for the next release.
Sadly, this would not be the case.
Despite best efforts, the reception for this one was practically non existent, consigning this talented bunch to the transit lounge filled with acts waiting to catch the next flight to further stardom, only to forever remain on stand by.
Perhaps the lack of a standout single was a factor in stalling the album, though that doesn't mean it isn't worthy. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. The playing is impeccable, the lyrics are without pretension and it sounds just as good as any hard rock record of that era. "Runway Runaway" is my pick, just for the lead work alone.
Lost classic? That seems to be the consensus amongst those who have written about it, though to be fair, no astonishing innovation is present save for the clever, Joycean title. Even with better promotion, they probably would have only had modest chart success at best. Echoes of Aerosmith and other purveyors of muscular, energetic riffage make for a decent spin, though. The coked up, leisure-suited set were far too preoccupied with the insistent, robotic charms of disco to take any notice. Rock was becoming the eccentric uncle who had to be told to "keep a bit more to the back" in family photos. Very shortly, the dreaded "dinosaur" tag would be stamped on groups of this ilk and chops would be traded for marketability in video clips.
Commercially stonewalled by an increasingly fickle marketplace, Ram Jam would call it a day after this, chalking up another instance of listener apathy stopping a good thing before it really had a chance to develop.
Very excited to be joining a discussion regarding the music industry on a cool blogtalkradio program hosted by Vinny "Bond" Marini called Music On the Couch.
When? The show airs 10pm to 11pm ET on Monday, March 29th.
Details:
A panel discussion with four music aficionados covering where the music industry has come from, where it is now and where it is heading. Joining host Vinny Bond are good friends Starrlight http://absinthedreamers.blogspot.com/, who will bring her wealth of knowledge regarding the newest alternative bands; JohnH http://www.avoicetohear.com/ who has his finger on the pulse of the Indy bands abounding today and Sean Coleman, whose knowledge of Classic Rock is as complete as they come. Dial in as we all sit on The Couch and talk it through.Your participation is also encouraged by calling the show at 1.347.633.9400.
Had the great pleasure to be steered toward a couple of taster tunes from a band called The CrawPuppies, who happen to have a new CD out called World's Much Bigger.
Straight up rock songs with good melodies always find a receptive audience and these guys certainly have that part locked down. The title track leans toward Being There era Wilco, which is certainly a plus. Crunchy guitars and a subtle hook line highlight a great tune. Most impressive is a deliberate move keep the vocals free of the dreaded modern engineering crutch: the auto tuner/pitch corrector. The band is allowed to breathe, though production values remain high.
Definite favorite of the two is "She Comes Lovely", which features fantastic changes, delicate guitar interpolations and excellent vocals. Again, it's refreshing to listen to people who are putting thought into the finished product.
I really like what I hear so far and look forward to spinning the full length disc.
In a plastic world, there's always room for craftsmanship.
The CrawPuppies are officially in my listening rotation.
Contemporary culture seems to be focused on smothering people with safety.
This is fine if you're shopping for a new family car, though good music should move people to a place where there's a little more action, even a hint of danger.
Looking for some rock and roll?
Arse-kicking from start to finish, Bomber is just the ticket. Lemmy, Phil and Eddie hit a ferocious groove throughout, delivering on the LP cover's promise that the bad-ass trio intend to carpet bomb everything in sight.
I was a teenage metalhead
Yes, I proudly owned every Motorhead release (on cassette) right up to Another Perfect Day. Out of that amazing run of discs, this one just hits the spot. Strip away all of the artifice and you have three aggressive instrumentalists hitting their marks hard with no regard for anything but the thrill of making beautiful noise together. The band works like a Swiss watch.
Despite the violence of each attack, Lemmy delivers catchy melodies with hooks that you can hang your hat on. His vocal coach may have overdone it with the "carton of cigs washed down with Jack Daniels" regimen, though that part just adds to the authenticity.
Wouldn't be Motorhead with Pat Boone out front now, would it?
There is a wit at work here that those who write off anything louder than Coldplay are missing out on. The title track always brings a twinkle back to dimming eyes.
You know we do it right A mission every night It's a bomber...
It actually plays like a fleet of bombers.
Lemmy lets Fast Eddie Clarke take the wheel for a tune ("Step Down") and fires scattershot verbal barbs in all directions. There are a clutch of classics on this record ("Lawman" "Poison" "All the Aces") that remain satisfying thirty years on from their creation. These guys didn't bother with being trendy, which has payed handsome dividends in terms of musical shelf life. Kids in 2034 will still be picking up on the energy of Motorhead because it's real. Simple as that.
Jimmy Miller produced this mighty work in between trips to the land of nod.
Would your lawn die if Lemmy moved in to the house next door?
Definitely.
No amount of description is a substitute for the real thing, so velcro yourself in and enjoy some rock and roll in the way it was intended to be heard.
Nearly forty years after he crossed into the next dimension, there is an ongoing fascination with Jimi Hendrix. He caught the attention of heavyweights in many genres of music, pulled off miracles with a stomp box and revolutionized rock guitar in the process.
Are You Experienced hit the scene with the force of a grand piano landing on a box of powdered donuts, snapping the minds of countless listeners when it was unleashed in 1967. Light years ahead of everything else at that time, his debut was the envy of many of his contemporaries.
Heavy schedules followed with commitments that pushed him toward the inevitable cycle that has taken out many very talented performers.
Legions of feedback-loving, volume pigs have tried to emulate him, possessing none of his finesse and feel. More than one of his peers has gone on record stating that they could not figure out how he produced those tones, even after studying his technique up close.
Valleys of Neptune is a "new" release, featuring material captured in studio sessions dating from early 1969, with a couple of tracks that were done outside that period. His legacy had been tarnished somewhat by posthumous, grave-robbing, cash-in releases that hit the market in the 70s and continued to appear while the legal issues surrounding his estate were being untangled. The late 90s saw a reversal of this state of affairs, with a faithful restoration of First Rays of the New Rising Sun, an LP he was working on at the time of his death.
Now we get a further sampling of his work. Seven of the twelve cuts here have not left the vaults until now.
1. "Stone Free" 2. "Valleys of Neptune" Previously unreleased 3. "Bleeding Heart" 4. "Hear My Train a Comin'" 5. "Mr. Bad Luck" Previously unreleased 6. "Sunshine of Your Love" Previously unreleased 7. "Lover Man" Previously unreleased 8. "Ships Passing Through the Night" Previously unreleased 9. "Fire" 10. "Red House" 11. "Lullaby for the Summer" Previously unreleased 12. "Crying Blue Rain" Previously unreleased
Better still that these tapes are being handled in a more respectful manner, especially after years of shoddy repackages that would not have met with the approval of the man himself.
Overall, it sounds pretty solid with nothing standing out as any great departure from what he had previously done.
The point being?
Allegedly, one of his ambitions was to shed the stage persona that he had been growing tired of and delve into big band jazz, following along the lines of Wes Montgomery. Hard to fathom, although his followers might have eventually watched him take a seat on the bandstand amongst a larger group of musicians. Had he lived, this would have made for a startling career shift. Jimi's occasional summit meetings with Miles Davis are especially legendary. The select few that were privileged enough to hear the combination of these two virtuosos, playing behind closed doors for pleasure, were suitably impressed. Again, if there was a tape machine running, it would be quite interesting to hear what they did. Missed opportunity otherwise.
For the hard-core archivists out there, this album may be seen as a bit slight in terms of real surprises. Hendrix was known for tracking quite a bit, bringing in a revolving cast of supporting players to jam and get ideas down. With that in mind, there is hope that more gems may be unearthed for release, showcasing another side of his multi-faceted musical personality.
Don't you just love the internet? News travels at insane speeds, though most of it reads like it was fact-checked by a sleep deprived chimp who has just polished off three bottles of cough syrup.
Indeed, it must have been that very primate who let news of Gordon Lightfoot's death slip past quality control and take up a portion of cyberspace, namely the websites of several Canadian newspapers a few days ago.
That is until the man himself made a statement to the contrary, courtesy of a Toronto news station. Currently on tour, Lightfoot is delivering his classics to packed houses. Catch him in the act if you can. His work is understated, has been covered by countless artists and is well worthy of investigation.
Don Quixote is no exception.
Not a runaway commercial smash upon release, the bearded bard turned in this thoroughly laid back set back in early 1972. Lightfoot was on an artistic roll during this period, having nicely bevelled some of the rougher edges found in his earliest work (also great) to find a superb balance between what he had to say and how he would sonically present it. Delicate acoustic passages, fine supporting players and a sure touch with a tune are all strengths that enhance the listening experience, though it is his way with words that steals the show.
One of the finest lyricists to ever commit pen to paper.
In this respect, he had few peers, always exploring interesting themes, story telling and making it all seem effortless. That rich, distinct vocal delivery is his signature, perfectly balanced against a backdrop of acoustics, sighing steel and occasional strings. Rarely missing the mark, Don Quixote would slip neatly into the alt country/folk parade that, to these ears, has been a hiding place for the more experimental aspects of rock since the mid-nineties.
Whether he's celebrating Canadian geography in the guise of uprooting and heading west ("Alberta Bound") spinning an early ecological tale ("Ode to Big Blue") or simply turning out one of the most touching love songs to ever grace a record ("Beautiful") this is Lightfoot at his best. The title of "poet" is too readily assigned these days, more often than not to hacks whose attempts at profundity should be relegated to the broom closets of the Hallmark corporation.
Power pop/rock, tightly arranged with great harmonies and lascivious lyrics that seemed a perfect match for the leering gentleman who sang them.
Doug Fieger succumbed to cancer yesterday at age 57.
This album has been in my collection for 30 years. It really doesn't seem that long ago. "My Sharona" was all over the radio and The Knack were poised for big things. The Beatles with a dirty mind.
Viewed as an incredible return to form, the third Wings platter was nothing short of miraculous as it was made under tumultuous circumstances. All of the key elements that had informed his best work in the past were still there, waiting to be unlocked. Reconnected with his muse, McCartney did not waste an inch of tape in the process.
Paul: “When we got back, people said ‘Ah, out of adversity has been born a fine album.’ I hate that theory. I hate the idea that you have to sweat and suffer to produce something good. It may be true as well.”
Denny Seiwell and Henry McCullough both quit their positions shortly before the group was set to travel to Africa and begin tracking sessions. Soldiering on as a trio, Paul, Linda and Denny found themselves in a less than adequate recording facility. To further complicate matters, Paul and Linda were robbed, losing the demo tapes they had brought along to work from. Legendary musician Fela Kuti expressed concern that they had made the trek to co-opt their rich culture of indigenous music and rhythms.
So your band has imploded, you are in a foreign country looking at an unfinished studio without even a rough draft of your new songs and the locals aren't exactly thrilled that you bothered to make the trip in the first place.
What do you do?
Geoff Emerick, who had accompanied them to Lagos to serve as engineer, worked some magic to help bring their workspace up to code. Approaching the project in the same manner as he did when making the McCartney LP, Paul played drums, bass, guitar and keyboards with contributions from Denny and Linda on various instruments and backing vocals. When everything seemed dire, the team rallied in grand style. The sheer power of the multi-part title cut followed by "Jet" sets the tone as the underlying theme of the record deals with flight and escape. You can take that any way you like, though the theme involving "leaving the ground" continues with the cocktail lounge jazz of Bluebird. Everything clicks on the first side, which closes out with a nice tribute to Lennon's Plastic Ono Band sound on "Let Me Roll It". Heavy reverb on the vocals, the guitar tone and a little primal whimper thrown in toward the fade all ice the cake. It's a very civilized way of ending the "John vs. Paul" sniping that played out on their recent records and in the press.
Confident in every possible way, the melodies and song structures found here are exceptional, with a consistency that was entirely missing from Wild Life and Red Rose Speedway. He and Denny (along with Linda) utilize that great vocal blend to full effect, especially with "No Words", a fine tune which Laine brought in and finished with Paul's help. Experimental sound collage takes up the middle section of "Picasso's Last Words". The initial progression and hook was the result of a friendly challenge. Actor Dustin Hoffman asked him about his song writing process, specifically around what subject matter inspired him to invent a new tune. He went a step further, showing McCartney a Time magazine article about the recent death of Pablo Picasso, which mentioned his reported dying words: "Drink to me, drink to my health, you know I can't drink anymore".
Could you write a song about this?
Within minutes, he had something, to Hoffman's delight.
The finale references the homestretch of Sgt. Pepper with a cool flashback. Just as "Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five" builds to an orchestrated climax, you get a quick reprise of the chorus of "Band On the Run" before the needle goes skidding off into the run-out grooves. Unquestionably standing as one of the top five solo records that he or his former colleagues ever made, Band On the Run stayed on the charts for 116 weeks, hit number one twice and repaired a lot of damage to his artistic credibility. Wings would press on through the remainder of the decade, with changing lineups, selling millions of discs, though McCartney would not quite match the overall quality found here.
Wings expanded to a five piece outfit, travelled through Europe playing small gigs and released a few singles in 1972. All the while, Paul and company were squeezing in recording sessions, chipping away at what would become the "Next Album". Working steadily, enough material was taped to fill a double LP. This idea was scrapped when the calendar page flipped over into 1973, the end product of the work boiled down to a single disc. This left contributions from other members of Wings on the cutting room floor. "My Love" was then dangled before the public as a taster single. Listeners snapped it up like piranhas, sending the tune to the top of the US charts. Now billed as "Paul McCartney and Wings", the band seemed poised for a commercial breakthrough.
Artistically, the project fell well below expectation, with many listeners thinking of other places to shove that rose which protrudes from McCartney's mouth in the cover shot.
Thorns first, of course.
I will be the first to admit that MacCartney has done excellent work, is a stellar musician, singer, producer, etc. Which is precisely why this is so damn frustrating to listen to. You expect a bit more and it is not there. At least with Wild Life, it's understood that he was intentionally doing something off the floor with no polish. Red Rose Speedway took time, effort and it still plays like he was screwing around.Substance is entirely lacking which precludes any serious evaluation of the material. Paul traded on his melodic gifts to lodge his creations in the brains of millions. On Speedway he blows some great opportunities by taking ideas with promise and turning them into cutesy mush. "Single Pigeon" is a prime example, with a piano line that could have been worked up into something great. Instead, Linda chips in with flat responses in the pre-chorus and the whole thing goes down in flames as a children's sing-along. The words don't help, either.
What works well here had already been tracked two years prior during the studio dates for Ram ("Get On the Right Thing", "Little Lamb Dragonfly")."Big Barn Bed" got started during this period as well, though it was updated and recorded specifically for Speedway. Again, it sounds like he did a massive bong hit and wrote down whatever came to mind, though the arrangement is clever. His skills in this department hadn't deserted him.
Speaking of circling around the hookah, Paul may owe mechanical royalties to Pink Floyd and the Beach Boys for "Loup (1st Indian on the Moon)". When the first bit with the chant breaks down, there are some random bleeps and sound effects which give the impression that Loup has reached his destination, happily bounding on the lunar surface. Listen carefully (if you have a copy) to the bass part that is employed in this section as it is lifted directly from the Pet Sounds track "Here Today".
Brian Wilson jolts upright from a dead sleep, wide-eyed and screaming.
Despite the obvious syrupy nature of the song, "My Love" stands head and shoulders above everything else. Henry McCullough's solo is a model of taste and economy.
Wings could never be considered a group of equals because Paul dominated the writing. Prone to dictatorial methods in the studio, he did not allow for those around him to fully contribute and come up with their own instrumental parts for the songs. When he did, great moments such as the inspired guitar solo in "My Love" would happen. Conversely, when the players followed a "by the numbers" formula laid down by the boss, listeners ended up with garbage like "When The Night".
No one has asked, nevertheless, allow me to present a more palatable version of Red Rose Speedway:
Side One
Big Barn Bed
My Love
Get On the Right Thing
Little Lamb Dragonfly
One More Kiss
Side two
Hi Hi Hi
Soily
C Moon
Give Ireland Back to the Irish
The Mess
The crowd loses their mind, giving a five minute standing ovation.
Fortunately, the next chapter in the story would prove to be far more successful from a musical standpoint. Just as he was about to be written off, he stepped up and silenced all of his critics.
After issuing two solo records, James Paul McCartney decided that he wanted to be part of a band again. Getting back in front of an audience would require a solid supporting cast. Enlisting drummer Denny Seiwell, whose solid work on Ram impressed him, was a fine start. His choice to fill the keyboard slot in his new aggregation was shocking.
His wife Linda.
Had she been a seasoned pro, the rock world still would have been skeptical, though it really was an odd pick because she could barely play a note. He insisted that she should be part of the project, taught her a few basic chords and then there were three.
Casting an eye about for a guitarist, he hit upon the idea of having Denny Laine join him. After all, he had known Laine from his days with the Moody Blues (pre Justin Hayward), liked his voice and thought that they would work well together. According to Paul, the name for this new group came out of a stressful time as Linda was giving birth to their second child, Stella. Complications arose and it wasn't certain that the baby would survive. While praying for his wife and child, the image of angel's wings came to McCartney.
Wings quietly started rehearsing a freshly minted batch of tunes in July of '71.
Take it, Tony!
Puffing on some of Mother Nature's finest, having a few beers and knocking around a few oldies, they also jammed on a few new ideas as well. Paul made the executive decision to record some of their "first takes". That's always a good move if you want to sift through the tapes and pick out certain things that merit further development.
He probably shouldn't have released them for public consumption.
Before erupting into an extended laughing fit, consider listening to this from a different perspective. You're hearing a bootleg that mistakenly fell into a pile and was given the green light as an official release. No need to run back into a burning building to retrieve this, though if you do find it on vinyl for a buck, (as I did, way back) then you're set.
No expectations.
McCartney himself had to have realized that this was the byproduct of working up some ideas to break in the band. Nothing more. So you have some pointless fun ("Mumbo"), a song directed at toddlers ("Bip Bop"), the catchy pop tune ("Tomorrow") and a white, left-handed-cigarette-smoking-reggae-fied cover ("Love is Strange").
Ideas that have promise ("Wild Life", "Some People Never Know") run way too long on underdeveloped melodies with no transitions to make them more interesting. Had more time been invested with certain tracks (and backing vocals turned down in the mix) the results would have been marginally better.
Unsurprisingly, extreme critical backlash met "Wild Life" upon its release at the tail end of '71. Once half of an enormously influential song writing partnership, McCartney now seemed to have lost the plot.
"Dear Friend" would be the standout track on Wild Life. It is a small olive branch that he extended to Lennon in the wake of the very public pissing match that they were engaged in at that time.
Best viewed as some messy sketches from a writer trying to escape a long shadow and do things differently.
"I thought McCartney was quite good, but then it didn't quite do it in every way. After it got knocked I thought... do just the opposite next time. So Ram was with the top people in the top studio. I thought, this is what they want. But again, it was critically panned."
Knives had indeed been sharpened and prepared for deployment in advance of the release of McCartney's second solo outing. Many of these evaluations were quite unfair, though the passage of time has led to a revision of such assessments.
Ram was markedly different from the DIY feel of the first disc. Gone was the "one man band" approach, eschewed in favor of having some of New York's finest session players back him up. Relocating to his wife's home turf to record, Paul held some auditions with Denny Seiwell winning the drum seat. Guitarists David Spinozza and Hugh McCracken also got the nod to for this gig.
Billed as a Paul and Linda McCartney production, Ram represented another 180 degree turn in direction. Strong melodies abound in a set that features a handful of his most ingenious creations. There is definitely quite a bit to take in as production values are of high quality. Substance in lyrical content is lacking, the exception being in those instances where pointed messages are addressed to John Lennon.
Let's backtrack for a moment.
McCartney bore the brunt of public backlash in the wake of the Beatles' split, which drove him toward excessive drinking and harder drugs. While he was no stranger to daily blazing, this path was not a positive one. He has since freely admitted that Linda stepped in, knocked some sense into him and he quickly refocused his energies on making music.
Some profound changes had taken place that would prove to be detrimental in their overall effect. His interest in putting some effort into the lyrics seemed to have waned. Without an editor to help prune his output, it seemed that a lot of fluff was making it past quality control. He also seemed eager to involve Linda in the recording process. She was no John Lennon.
Then there was the cover art depicting Paul, proudly gum-booted, grappling with livestock in the mud.
Paul: "This wasn’t posed. Me and Linda decided to catalogue all our sheep, so there’s a photograph of me holding every bloody sheep in the flock that year. Over 100 of them. I was supposed to be cropped out."
OK
On the plus side, he continued to branch out in terms of how his compositions were structured. There are an array of stylistic elements to be found as jazzy seventh chords crop up frequently along with a few elaborate orchestral arrangements. New directions tend to alienate some fans, bring new ones on board and leave others scratching their heads. For those that didn't return the album to the retailer for a refund upon first listen, there are definitely some rewards.
Opening strong with "Too Many People", this guitar oriented slab of meat comes complete with McCartney in full cry, belting out a very direct lyric. This is where we return to our conversational marker concerning John Lennon.
What exactly was "Macca" saying over the intro?
Paul: "Yeah. Piss off, cake. Like, a piece of cake becomes piss off cake, And it’s nothing, it’s so harmless really, just little digs.Too Many People was a bit of a dig at John, because he was digging at me. We were digging at each other in the press. Not harsh, but pissed off with each other, basically. But the first line is about 'too many people preaching practices.' I felt John and Yoko were telling everyone what to do. And I felt we didn’t need to be told what to do. "
My one issue here lies with those shrieking backing vocals in the verses, placed far too high in the mix. Otherwise, it stands up pretty well.
"Ram On" is where the Beach Boys meet the ukulele in a phenomenally melodic hybrid, with excellent vocals. Creative and memorable, this is the direction that he would have been well advised to follow. "Dear Boy" falls into a similar category with those unmistakably layered backing harmonies and jaunty piano. Sure, it's lightweight pop, though it redeems itself by virtue of clever arrangement.
Ram's centerpiece is the multi-part stunner, "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey"
Running on the strength of several hook lines and an exhilarating chorus ("Hands across the water, Heads across the sky") it's no surprise that this went to the top of the US charts in late summer 1971. This one also happens to be one of my first concrete musical memories. Vivid flashes come back of driving around in my father's Galaxie 500 with this song as part of the soundtrack, as it hit big on the radio shortly after my third birthday. Everything seems larger and more vibrant when you are new to the world.
I digress.
Had the sense of adventure and ambition that was packed into this gem been sustained for the entire album, Ram would have ranked as Paul's finest hour. By and large, the remaining content definitely has merit. There is the breezy "Heart of the Country" which verges on the cusp of jazz and even has McCartney tipping his hat to Mel Torme with some scatting after the choruses. Finer still is his dead-on Buddy Holly tribute, "Eat At Home", complete with tight guitar fills, slap back echo and well-timed, Holly-esque vocal mannerisms.
Hard on the heels of the aforementioned "Uncle Albert" in the nominations for for best track is the lavish production that brings the LP to a close. "The Back Seat of My Car" goes after the grandiosity that was achieved as the song suite from the "back nine" of Abbey Road raced toward the finish line. The theme is fairly straightforward, involving the suspension of disbelief that comes with young love.
“We believe that we can’t be wrong.”
Teenage arrogance is usually tempered by the disapproving parental voice not far in the background. All in the pursuit of the freedom to drive off somewhere with your girl and have no commitments to hold you back.
Brian Wilson waking up with wood?
You bet.
Hovering between Cm7 and F major with B flat thrown in for good measure, languid piano with brilliant guitar coloring set the tone as McCartney enters with his characteristic smooth delivery. Building on the basic bed track, brass and strings are employed in to bring this excellent vehicle to full speed. In the end, Paul is at the top of his range with the proceedings going out on a high note. Genius level work.
Again, it is a pity that he did not take a far more critical second listen to the overall product. Though RAM is enjoyable on many levels, there are three glaring clunkers that should have been left in the vaults. Replacing "3 Legs", "Smile Away" and "Long Haired Lady" with "Another Day", "Oh Woman, Oh Why" and "Dear Friend" (cooked up during the sessions for Ram) would have made for a much better listen.
"Monkberry Moon Delight" should have been stripped of those abysmal call and response vocal parts that featured Linda, given some better lyrics and presto! New and improved for the whole family to enjoy.
McCartney alone was calling the shots now.
Regardless of how far he would stray into overt treacle in the seventies, from here on in, there would be no balancing presence to steer him back from the outer limits of sugary sentimentality. This is precisely where the Lennon-McCartney team had worked so well. When the two embarked on their solo ventures, Lennon's output lacked McCartney's arranging skills and knack for bridge creation. Conversely. McCartney missed Lennon's acidic bite with words and his nudges toward more basic, stripped down sounds.
Paul would later confess that this was somewhat of a fallow period for him writing-wise, though things really weren't that bad. Melody is found in abundance on RAM, along with exceptional playing and that aforementioned US number one single.
Curiously, when irreconcilable differences finally splintered one of the greatest song writing partnerships of the 20th century, Paul McCartney chose to release an LP that came pretty close to demo quality. Going one better, despite having one of rock music’s greatest voices, he subversively filled half of the album with instrumentals. Rough hewn best describes the result, though Paul did take a couple of submissions that didn’t make the grade on recent Beatle LPs (“Junk”, “Teddy Boy” and “Every Night”) a few fragments and one truly powerful new song (“Maybe I’m Amazed”) to complete the program.
Going solo in the most literal sense, he played every note on the disc, with wife Linda occasionally joining in on harmonies, that is when there were vocal tracks present.
Listening to it forty years after the fact, Paul’s own evaluation of the record is pretty much on the money. On first airing, it certainly must have amounted to a moment of collective shock for those who had become accustomed to the elaborate productions that his former group had been turning out over the past few years.
What happened to the guy who had been the key driver of the impeccable song suite that comprised the second side of Abbey Road?
MAN WE WAS LONELY
With his band on the rocks, longtime friends not speaking to him, earnings tied up in a company that would soon be at the center of a litigious shit-storm and a host of other miserable developments, it’s not surprising that his output would be anything other than low key. Reflective of his personal state at that time, the music on McCartney was portrayed as being a summation of “home, family and love” on the PR message track when it was issued. Cloistered in his makeshift studio at his farm in Scotland , he diligently tracked his parts at times opting to book the odd session in London . During these blocks of time, he would have an engineer assist with getting things to tape, though he would ask that no mention be made of what they were up to.
Production-wise, there is every indication that these sketches were homemade, with no effort to trim extraneous noises from the final mix. Close listening reveals a handful of minor incidences where you hear domestic background patter or a door shutting. Certainly, this is just the by-product of knocking out a few tunes at home, with no concentrated effort on McCartney’s part to emphasize these random sounds.
Interesting in these times to ponder that Paul prefigured the lo-fi movement by decades when he made his one-man show available for public consumption in early 1970. Being a McCartney vehicle, the songs that manage to amount to more than just musical jotting have killer melodies. Lyrically, there’s nothing substantive going on and he doesn’t trouble himself to include any tunes that lash out at his former band mates. Self-pity is also left out of the equation. Reverting to type, he provides no indication that anything is wrong on record, no doubt a product of the stiff upper lip he was taught to keep in place as part of a male-dominated, Northern Liverpudlian upbringing.
His one act of defiance came in crafting a mock interview that appeared as an insert with the original UK issue of McCartney. Bizarre, though the content made its way into the homes of thousands of unsuspecting Britons. Allen Klein deleted this from the US version of McCartney, no doubt because of the denigrating commentary aimed at himself and the other Beatles.
"Kreen Akrore" takes "Moby Dick" deep into the Brazilian jungle, from where few have returned to tell their tale...
"Junk" boasts a beautiful melody, ranking as one of his most underrated creations. Best in show here? You guessed it.
Submitted for your approval (or derisive laughter) is a list of some of the earliest and most influential recordings in this much maligned, sometimes ignored but thoroughly interesting hybrid format
By no means is this a definitive or complete run down of every artist/group that kidnapped a pedal steel player and turned down the amps just enough to avoid scurrilous looks from folks in ten gallon hats. You may quibble with my choices and find yourself doubting why certain albums are missing. Keep in mind that these entries feature those brave souls who built this club. Everyone else merely stood in the velvet rope and stanchion lined queue, waiting for their chance to get past the big guy at the door.
There are quite a few precursors to this style, all quite excellent recordings in their own right.. Many of the pioneers involved in the records that defined what came to be known as “rock and roll” had serious country and western influences. In the early to mid sixties, artists who had heretofore been associated with a specific genre, began to branch out and cross over into entirely new territory.
Commercially lucrative, incredibly inventive and a success from every possible angle was the 1962 Ray Charles LP Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music. This is a stunning exercise in versatility
Johnny Cash’s Orange Blossom Special disc saw him covering Bob Dylan’s songs and moving, yet again, slightly left of the country format.
Meanwhile, Jerry Lee Lewis and Rick Nelson plunged headlong into the trappings of mellow, countrified bliss with Country Songs For City Folks and Bright Lights and Country Music.
These developments were certainly interesting and I would recommend these releases to anyone who hasn’t heard them. The Beatles and the Stones featured tunes that could be construed as experiments along these lines (“I’ll Cry Instead”, “I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party”, “It’s All Over Now”, etc.) though the actual balance between the two worlds was not truly achieved until the International Submarine Band successfully integrated the elements with their LP, Safe at Home.
Widely accepted as the first country rock album, it was recorded in 1967, delayed from official release until 1968 and promptly sank without a trace. Gram Parsons was the key member of this group and when he joined the Byrds, his influence was enough to steer McGuinn and Hillman down a stone country path with Sweetheart of the Rodeo. It flopped miserably at the time, though this is not a reflection of the quality as it is an album par excellence. If you enjoy the fine art of dot connection, a handful of names will come up repeatedly when you investigate the players behind these creations:
Gram Parsons, Bob Dylan, Gene Clark, Chris Hillman, Bernie Leadon, Clarence White and Doug Dillard.
All would have a stake in many of the earliest forms of this type of music.
Here's a short list of other recordings to check out:
The Flying Burrito Brothers-The Guilded Palace of Sin
The Holy Grail.
The Byrds-Sweetheart of the Rodeo
This is perfect from start to finish.
The Everly Brothers-Roots
Absolutely the most underrated project that Phil and Don were ever involved with. There are some fantastic songs on this disc, though it was lost in the myriad of late 60's psychedelia, heavy rock and pop. If you see it, buy it.
These LPs are stellar as well.
Dillard and Clark-The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard and Clark Gene Clark-Gene Clark and the Gosdin Brothers The Byrds-Sweetheart of the Rodeo Dylan-Nashville Skyline Poco-Pickin' Up the Pieces
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