Monday, August 25, 2014
He does however have the sound down. He has a big, soulful voice, and when he stretches out, there aren't many to touch him. The centerpiece here is called Shine, a slow-burning number that sounds like he's shaking the gates of Heaven when he gets to the emotional climax, but really, it's just about loving the summer down South. Hey, isn't that the real trick to get through life? Find the things you love, don't sweat the rest. Some more of those numbers, and Broussard might have himself the first self-help album.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
It's interesting that there's a current vein of music in the Americana genre that's very...well, very American. It's got energy, passion, roots, and most of all, it's got Springsteen. There are a few folks moving in this direction, younger than the crop back in the 70's trading in the same stock as Bruce. This bunch, which includes Dave Hause and Northcote for instance, have punk roots but when they went solo as singer-songwriters were looking for some intensity. Chuck Ragan shares that pedigree, four albums and a decade into his solo career. My theory goes like this: Springsteen had all those hits back in the 80's, when this bunch was growing up, which sounded great back then amidst the rest of the junk on MTV and MuchMusic. Then, over the last decade Springsteen has become more overtly political and angry on his albums, no longer worried about saying whatever he damn well wants about presidents, corporations and banks. Angry Bruce attitude, post - 9/11, and classic, intense American sounds.
Ragan's new album has all those hallmarks, and an especially appealing sound. It's righteous rock band, along with violin, harmonica, and pedal steel, fronted by his gruff but pleasing vocals, not unlike you-know-who. He's clearly caught on to the need and belief that lyrics should be important, be direct from the heart, and can say something that will inspire others. For the most part, it's uplifting. But then there's Whistleblower's Song, dark and powerful, the corporate or government crime unspoken but the desperation fully spoken: "Deliverance from damnation's got a way to let you do what you want." The bulk though, have sing-along choruses, pounding drums and rally-cry words: "We can do some damage, before the hour's handy...something may catch fire" goes the opening cut, burning into your inner groove. Non Typical is just as intense in its declaration of love: "I need you like I need all of my blood and my breath." Ragan has embraced the big sound, and it's the kind of album that will sweep you along from the opening notes.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
So that makes enjoying an album like They Want My Soul difficult. Do You is a wonderful-sounding tune, and the lyrics no doubt mean something to the author, but you also have the knowledge that they worked hard making this a particular sound, something different from before, grabbing different bits and pieces and sounds from all over. They like something this other band did, they try this beat, they program that, meticulously reproduce elements; what I can't get is an overall feel for what Spoon is, or at least what it's become. And that's probably why I enjoy listening to each individual song, but come away underwhelmed and unsatisfied. I really did want to like this a lot. But give me Fountains of Wayne instead, they are proudly pop and don't mess about.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Oh, I jest. But believe me, given the many, many lineup's they have employed, and the complicated machinations that have gone on to keep the cash cow in action, my choices aren't that ridiculous. Now, it's Squire for sure, the long-serving Steve Howe, another classic vet in Alan White, and former Buggle Geoff Downes on keyboards, who had first joined in the early 80's. On vocals is Jon Davison, a Jon Anderson sound-alike, who actually replaced a real Anderson impersonator in 2012, a Canadian named Benoit David who sang in a Yes tribute band. It's Davison's first time on a disc as singer, but he probably isn't planning on a long run; Anderson has a standing invitation to re-join the group, if his health concerns clear up.
The first time I saw Yes, it was in 1980, one of those In The Round, rotating stage extravaganzas, after The Buggles had joined. Trevor Horn was singing, and everybody said he sounded more like Anderson than Anderson did. When Yes rolled through Canada in 2012, that was what they said about David as well. On disc, you can certainly hear the similarities Davison brings to the table. I know Yes-heads have been loving the shows, as the group rolls out entire classic 70's albums such as Close To The Edge and Fragile. They've stopped trying to fight for relevance with new forms, and even turned their back on the 80's sound of the group, the Owner Of A Lonely Heart synth-rock that took them to #1 again. Instead, it's back to the prog of the 70's, dramas and such, since that music is hip again for many. The trouble is, in all the comings and goings of members over the years, what's become obvious is that they have no leader or core, just rotating members in endless negotiations. They usually look to new blood to inspire the tired franchise, such as Trevor Rabin or Horn/Downes in their times. Now they've let Davison write on seven of eight cuts here, drafting in one other member each time.
Sadly, these are not inspired or inspiring songs. They are mild, rather lifeless cuts with gentle tempos, adult contemporary prog. Where are the grand guitar solos, Howe? What's with all the burbling keyboards? These people used to play big, exciting licks, no matter what your feeling was towards prog. Only the closing track, Subway Walls, offers any energy. It's a nine-minute suite, with an orchestral beginning, a jazzy instrumental middle and finally some Howe fireworks. Honestly, it pales compared to Roundabout, but thanks for trying at least.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Bishop forged a distinctive style for himself in the 70's, putting out funky blues with lots of good humour and a crack band, and he hasn't had to change the plot much at all since. Coming out of the original Paul Butterfield Blues Band ranks, he had the chops, reputation and connections, and even scored a big hit mid-70's with Fooled Around And Fell In Love. But that was a one-off fluke, and since then Bishop has been a solid trooper in the blues world, and seems to have genuinely enjoyed the life.
This new one sees Bishop come up with a few more fun tunes, alternating with sparkling instrumentals and some choice covers. He's got this down-home voice, and wisely sticks to speak-singing his tunes, and playing up the good ol' blues guy image. The title cut is a shaggy dog story about an inept crook, played for laughs. Old School, with guest Charlie Musselwhite on harp, is the old codger complaining about new technology. Bishop got his old vocalist Mickey Thomas (Jefferson Starship) to come back to sing Let Your Woman Have Her Way, but it isn't a desperate attempt to have another pop hit, it's too basic a blues, this is just mutual respect.
I like all the good-natured fun, but the best stuff is the playing, and the instrumentals shine for that. At 71, Bishop is still a grand player. Hearing him with his guitar foil Bob Welsh doing twin leads is a joy, especially on the old Jimmy Reed number, Honest I Do. Sometimes you just don't need to sing, to sing the blues.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
There is a bit of an issue with all the bonus tracks and special editions that have come out over the years, the ones collectors especially love. With all the expanded versions out there, sometimes the integrity of the original album is getting lost. A lot of discs now have extra stuff stuck on the end, b-sides, demos and filler material, so that the original, beloved set is diluted as a listening experience. Some are wisely refusing that practice. The Beatles, for instance, have not tacked on bonus material to those famous albums. Instead you find it on such extra sets as The Anthology Series or the BBC collections.
At Fillmore East was the album that made The Allman Brothers in 1971. The glorious interplay of the band, the righteous jamming, and especially the terrific guitar playing showed how tremendous they could be on the right night, and how their two studio albums had failed to capture that live spark. It set the tone for the group's whole career in fact, as they have always been more appreciated for their live concerts and recordings.
The original set was a huge hit, making the band true stars. A double album, it was recorded over three nights of shows at the Fillmore East in New York in March of 1971, although nothing from the first night was usable thanks to a wrong-headed decision to invite a horn section along, who were under-rehearsed and weak. The other two nights proved excellent, but due to the length of some of the jams, including You Don't Love Me, In Memory Of Elizabeth Reid and Whipping post, only seven cuts were spread over the four sides. So there was lots left. The group immediately started milking the recordings, with their next album, the double Eat A Peach, more than half made up of more Fillmore.
There have also been two major reissues in the CD years, The 1992 double disc The Fillmore Concerts had alternate takes of some of the songs on the original album added, and more previously unreleased tracks. In 2003 came the At Fillmore East Deluxe Edition, which restored the original album versions from Fillmore and Eat A Peach, and added yet another element, a cut from the June 1971 closing night of the Fillmore East set, Midnight Rider.
And now we get this monster. It's made of up six CD's, which is the entirety of the March 12 and March 13 nights, both first and second shows. The final CD has the Fillmore East's closing show from June 27, 1971, something that's already been released as the extra disc on the deluxe version of Eat A Peach. So with all these variations, you can see how the actual, original At Fillmore East is now a bundle of confusion, unless you just stick to the old-fashioned vinyl.
Now you get the shows as they happened chronologically, and with much repetition. Statesboro Blues starts all five shows here, Don't Keep Me Wonderin' is in four of five, so are Elizabeth Reid, and Whipping Post. By the fourth show, they were starting to loosen up a bit, and it includes Stormy Monday and the mammoth Mountain Jam, the one featured on Eat A Peach. But this points out the problem once more; the original album was made by picking the best cuts and versions, and you have to be a true Allman fan to want to hear the warts. Not that they are too awful, but that sax player they did allow to stay after the first night's debacle never did gel with the group. There are a couple of useless solos in the first couple of shows. The band weren't immune from it either; Dickie Betts botches his lead on One Way Out on the fourth show, which is why Eat A Peach featured the June 27th take. It all gets too repetitive and complicated.
So here's where I stand on this. Get the $60, 6-CD if you are that big Allman fan, but keep your original album around. Enjoy the various versions at some point, while reading the very good and lengthy notes. The rest of you, grab a still-available single CD set, or maybe the reissued vinyl or some old guy's used lp's.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Sax player Stan Getz was no stranger to the samba, and had even made the hit album Jazz Samba with guitarist Charlie Byrd in 1962, who had been to Brazil. It had been a surprise #1 album on the pop charts, igniting the public interest in the laid back, warm sounds. Getz was now paired up with the brilliant but reclusive guitarist/singer Gilberto to make an album in New York, and Jobim was along for the ride, to provide authentic piano. The songs were almost all Jobim's after all, and the key Brazilian rhythm section of bassist Sebastiao Neto and drummer Milton Banana came along too.
Getz's sax fit in perfectly with the easy swing of the bossa nova stars. He played brilliantly, smooth and warm and understanding the gentle touch needed. On this wonderful remaster of the album, you can hear the clack of the keys, the force of his breath, the microphones turned up so much to capture the quiet playing. Jobim weaved his magic in and around the players, choosing only the most pleasing notes, leaving great spaces for the music to breath. Gilberto's delicate plucking providing the vision of Rio found in the music, not the wild carnival times but the languid pace in the heat, the beauty of the tropics.
And then, a stroke of luck. Gilberto had been singing most of the lyrics, in Portuguese. But producer Creed Taylor, who was the mastermind of the session, had hired Norman Gimbel to write English lyrics to one of the songs, in case a way was found to record them. Setting up for the sessions, Taylor heard Gilberto's 22-year old wife Astrud singing the original Portuguese. She was familiar with English, and was able to handle the job. It was a smash. Her subtle, shy take, the first professional vocal she had ever done, captured the imagination of the world, and the song The Girl From Ipanema was a huge hit.
How big? Remember that British Invasion? Silly pop music, said the Grammy voters. Instead, The Girl From Ipanema won Record of the Year, Getz/Gilberto took Album of the Year, and Getz himself won Best Instrumental Jazz Performance. Sorry, Beatles. Blame it on the bossa nova.