The genesis of Waterpistol is one of the most convoluted in all of indie pop, and it's one of the genre's most legendary stories. The album was recorded in 1991, but (shades of Tater Totz's Alien Sleestacks from Brazil) the master tapes were destroyed when the studio caught fire. All was not lost, however, as producer Chris Allison had made a DAT safety copy before he left for an American vacation. Unfortunately, not knowing about the fire, Allison inadvertently left his DAT in his rental car. Amazingly, he was able to track it down with the help of the car rental company, but given that Shack's record company had gone under and the band had split up in the interim, the album didn't come out until the German label Marina Records rescued it in 1995. Like an acoustic-oriented version of the first Stone Roses album (or perhaps a less '60s-obsessed La's), Waterpistol mixes shimmering jangle pop tunes with leader Michael Head's alternately wistful and depressive lyrics. Melancholy without being overwhelmingly sad, Waterpistol includes a number of remarkably strong songs, like the relatively cheery "Mood of the Morning" and the achingly wistful ballads "Undecided" and "London Town," all of which top anything Head's previous combo, the Pale Fountains, managed. Though its non-release at the time was an exacerbating influence on Head's temporary descent into drugs and depression, Waterpistol is one of those rare "lost" albums that's actually as good or better than the hype suggests. This may actually be better than the more lauded H.M.S. Fable.

(by Stewart Mason, All Music Guide)

Originally released in 1977, the second live album from these funky, soulful southerners was reissued in 1999 with five extra cuts, adding a whopping 30 minutes to the original vinyl record's limited playing time. With a completely different track listing than 1973's excellent Drippin' Wet, Left Coast Live captures all that was memorable about Wet Willie. They tear through soul standards, like Jimmy Reed's "Shame, Shame, Shame," Little Milton's "Grits Ain't Groceries," and a shimmering 13 minute slow blues version of Billy Eckstein's "Jelly Jelly" (featuring guest guitarist Toy Caldwell on loan from the Marshall Tucker Band), with obvious passion for not only the songs, but for performing them in front of an enthusiastic audience like the one fortunate to be at this 1976 second set at L.A.'s Roxy club. Lead vocal, sax, and harmonica man Jimmy Hall is in solid form as he hoots, hollers, shouts, moans, and blows like the soul men he obviously idolizes and the band, now tightened through almost a decade of playing one night stands, chugs along like a fine tuned engine pumped with high octane gas. Pianist Mike Duke pounds the ivories with religious fervor and guitarist Ricky Hersh plays with barely controlled passion throughout. Featuring touches of gospel on "Ring You Up," Sly Stone styled funk with "Baby Fat," and southern fried R&B on their show stopping 12 minute version of "Lucy Was in Trouble," it's evident how overlooked this group was as one of the most eclectic, soulful, and talented bands to emerge from the glutted '70s southern rock circuit. Oddly the album's least impressive moment is a rote rendition of their biggest hit, "Keep on Smiling," played without the energy injected into the rest of the show. Wet Willie lost the majority of its original members and direction after this final, contract fulfilling Capricorn release, but Left Coast Live remains a compelling and often exhilarating document of a gifted band in their prime.

(by Hal Horowitz, All Music Guide)

This classic recording by the sibling of Livingston and James Taylor offers valuable insight for fans of Carole King's landmark album, Tapestry, but Sister Kate is also a great work in its own right. Peter Asher of Peter & Gordon was the guiding hand behind James Taylor and Linda Ronstadt, and to have his vision of Carole King's "Where You Lead" and "Home Again" from Tapestry with the musicians who helped King paint her masterpiece is a major treat. (Lou Adler's perspective on these tunes was what helped reshape music in the '70s, and to have another successful producer issuing the same music at the exact moment in time is essential study for Musicology 101.) "Where You Lead" has a totally different flavor from both King's classic album track and Barbara Streisand's hit. Vocally, Kate Taylor isn't Chi Coltrane or Jessi Colter, but she's very musical just the same. It's interesting that she would do versions of two songs Rod Stewart covered. Stewart got some serious airplay with "Handbags and Gladrags," but he didn't have Carole King, Linda Ronstadt, Merry Clayton, and most of the Tapestry players on his version of the Mike D'Abo tune -- Kate Taylor gets that honor. She also does a fine rendition of the Elton John/Bernie Taupin track which Stewart got FM album airplay with, "Country Comforts," and takes it a step further by covering "Ballad of a Well Known Gun" from the John/Taupin catalog as well. Beverly Martyn's "Sweet Honesty" plays like Donovan's "Season of the Witch," and it works well for this place in time, but the real knockout tunes here are, coincidentally, Taylor's rendition of Livingston Taylor's "Be That Way," and her takes on James Taylor's "Lo and Behold" and "You Can Close Your Eyes." These three go right out of the park, so you can draw your own conclusions as to how well-schooled she was on the music being made by her brothers. The addition of "Jesus Is Just All Right" somewhat mars "Lo and Behold"; the two form a medley, with "Lo and Behold's chorus pressing up against the "Jesus Is Just All Right" melody, but once again, the choice of what would become a '70s standard for the Doobie Brothers two years later shows the intuitive nature of this project. Mort Shuman and Jerry Ragavoy got attention the year before when Janis Joplin's Pearl contained her dynamic version of their "Get It While You Can." Kate Taylor is better suited to their "Look at Granny Run, Run," and she does a fine job with it here. This is the album that got away, and all serious fans of pop, '70s rock, and good music in general owe it to themselves to seek Sister Kate out. It's a very impressive work of art. Collapse

(by Joe Viglione, All Music Guide)

Pale Saints appeared on some micro-indie compilations in 1988 and early 1989, but it was a demo that enticed the 4AD label's Ivo Watts-Russell, who without haste caught a gig and consequently signed the band (along with support act Lush). Watts-Russell was particularly taken with "Sight of You," and in a few months, a remixed/retouched version of the drifting ballad led Pale Saints' debut EP. Almost sickly sweet and seemingly innocent until Ian Masters' chorister-like voice lets slip a covetous blood-soaked fantasy -- the escalation from "bad"/"sad" to "red/"dead" is easy to miss -- "Sight of You" went over well, landed on BBC DJ John Peel's listener-driven Festive 50 for 1989, and was covered by Ride. The following February, coincidentally between the recording and broadcast of Ride's take for a Peel session, "Sight of You" was placed in a new context on The Comforts of Madness. Perhaps seen as too significant to be left off, and downplayed so as to not overstress its signature status, "Sight of You" was tucked deep into the LP's second side, thereby emphasizing the many other colors of frayed-nerve dream pop -- as filtered through avant-folk, West Coast psychedelia, the Paisley Underground, power pop, and C-86 -- the trio had to offer. The album creates a kind of whiplash effect by starting with a violent existential tantrum, recharging with a swirling assault that gathers steam (concluding with "I'll destroy you," or something else suggesting emotional rupture), and halting with a chilling and diaphanous ballad cast in a soft shimmer (line one: "You're body's cold"). The rest of the sequence moves from one extreme to another, from the resemblance of a sugared-up Dream Syndicate in a wind tunnel to sighing and strumming through plaintive material ripe for This Mortal Coil picking. All the turbulence is mitigated by Masters' singular tenor, and further eased from song to song with Bad Moon Rising-style noise segues and subtle crossfading. These first steps still delight, startle, and chill.

(by Andy Kellman, All Music Guide)

On the eve of a post-Thatcherite Britain, the Pale Saints, alongside the likes of Lush, Ride and Slowdive, were ushering in a new wave of British indie. And in 4AD, they found a perfect home for their music - an exciting & undeniable meld of noise and dream-pop.

Their 1990 debut album, The Comforts of Madness, didn't disappoint, now standing as one of the best of its era. Pitchfork placed it in their recent piece on The Best 50 Shoegaze Albums Of All Time saying, »There's a restless urgency, particularly when the volume swells and the rhythms intensify. That energy not only keeps (it) vital, it emphasizes Pale Saints' inventiveness, how they channelled softness and rage into something distinctive.«

30 years later, and The Comforts of Madness is finally getting the reissue treatment, both coming with a bonus disc of previously unreleased demos and the band's only Peel Session, recorded in 1989.

Loving & Free has masterful production by Elton John and Clive Franks, and if anything, it is as lovingly produced as it is performed. One of four strong Kiki Dee originals is the title track, which opens up this soulful album, reflected so beautifully in the cover photo of young Dee on a bicycle with flowers in a field. It's reminiscent of Lesley Duncan's "Love Song," and lo and behold, Duncan shows up on backing vocals on the very next song, "If It Rains." Elton John plays keyboards on seven of the ten tracks, including the short gospel piece "If It Rains," written by Dee, and the Bernie Taupin/Elton John number "Lonnie and Josie." Both these tracks could be outtakes from Tumbleweed Connection, and with covers of Jackson Browne and Stealers Wheel's Joe Egan and Gerry Rafferty, you know the direction here is not going to be the all-out assault which landed in the Top 15 the very next year, "I Got the Music in Me." Dee, performing the band Free's "Travellin' in Style," adds blues/pop to the disc, the tune moving harder than most of the tracks on side one. Egan and Rafferty's "You Put Something Better Inside Me" plays with more heart than what Stealers Wheel did on their own, and fits this country-flavored pop record just perfectly. Another Elton John/Bernie Taupin composition opens side two, and "Supercool" gets the nod as the hardest-rocking track on this otherwise low-key and beautifully mellow disc. It isn't as raucous as "I Got the Music in Me," but it still feels a little out of place on this set; still, how can one resist any contribution from John and Taupin? "Rest My Head" is the singer showing she can write, and like many of the tracks on Loving & Free, performed with members of Elton John's band from this era behind her. "Amoureuse," written by Véronique Sanson and Gary Osborne, is unique in that it brings one of John's other songwriting partners into the mix. Jackson Browne's "Song for Adam" and the song which Elton John performed and put on the flip of one of his singles, "Sugar on the Floor," conclude this album and make the sequel to Tumbleweed Connection so valid. That was one of Elton John's most heartfelt and non-commercial discs, and he gets to reprise it here. Loving & Free is an underrated, under-valued, ambitious, and completely forgotten work which shows Kiki Dee to be an extremely valuable artist who deserved all the support she got from her friends in the industry. It is too bad the public didn't embrace such important music, which got the sincere blessing of Elton John.

(by Joe Viglione, All Music Guide)

This was the album that established McCaslin as a major folk performer. Her interpretive skills are in evidence on covers of "Let It Be" and Randy Newman's "Living Without You," but most of the set was devoted to original material, showing her to be an impressive songwriter (if not quite as impressive a singer). The title track and "San Bernardino Waltz" are standouts, the latter being probably her most famous song.

(by Richie Unterberger , All Music Guide)

Folk-rockers Edie Brickell & New Bohemians returned in 1990 with Ghost of a Dog, the follow-up to their extremely successful debut, Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars. Once again, the musicianship and instrumentation are supremely appropriate, right down to the guest accordion licks that set the playful mood for "Carmelito." Top that with thoughtful, thought-provoking lyrics and memorable melodies and you have a great second record on the New Bos resume. Brickell has a way with phrases unlike most other songwriters. She finds the similarity in differences and uses it to her advantage, spinning webs with words entangled in unique rhymes and patterns. The opening lines are a perfect example: "If a child lives with money, he learns to spend his time/If a child lives with crazy, he goes out of his mind." This record is full of such cleverness. And as bouncy and whimsical as some of the songs are, such as "Woyaho," "Oak Cliff Bra," and "Carmelito," things get downright poignant, if not serious, on "He Said," "10,000 Angels," and "This Eye." However exquisite Brickell is as a songwriter and vocalist, enough can't be said of the guys who support her musically. Kenny Withrow, Wes Burt-Martin, Brad Houser, John Bush, and Matt Chamberlain are wonderfully creative musicians, and the cohesiveness of their sound is exciting to hear. These guys know what it means to play together, each giving his all without stepping on anyone's toes. Ghost of a Dog is definitely a record to own if you love the music that came out of the early '90s folk-rock scene. Along with the efforts of bands like 10,000 Maniacs, it stands the test of time and can be enjoyed over the years. But, sadly, it marks the second and last release from this band.

(by Kelly McCartney, All Music Guide)

The most surprising, diverse, and possibly the most satisfying of all of Jimmy Webb's early solo LPs, Letters presents the singer/songwriter in an unexpectedly wide-ranging series of musical settings, all of which complement his somewhat restricted vocal abilities. There are surprises throughout, beginning with the opening cut, "Galveston." Sung by Webb with only a pair of acoustic guitars for accompaniment, this version of the song would never challenge Glen Campbell's recording for time of AM radio, but it is delivered with a quiet fervor and intimacy, and a close embrace of every word, that Campbell's version, for all of its polish, never gets near. Much of the rest of the album, however, has Webb working within a more conventional pop/rock setting, beginning with "Campo de Encino," which comes complete with flute courtesy of Skip Mosher. Webb brushes up against the outer boundaries of his vocal range and expressiveness on several of these numbers, yet, surprisingly, moves nimbly through a rendition of the classic "Love Hurts," which also benefits from a fairly inventive, slightly dissonant, and airy orchestration. Much of the album is hooked around lost or unrequited love on some level, but the sounds are sufficiently varied to hold one's interest. "Simile"'s gently rippling solo piano accompaniment is followed by the soaring and highly emotional "Hurt Me Well," which shows Webb at the height of his emotional connection with a song, in the midst of an instrumental setting that's close to the ornate arrangements that he wrote for Richard Harris in the 1960s as he ever got on his own records. Lest one worry that the album is totally steeped in romantic angst, it isn't quite -- one trio of songs deals with different sides of being a songwriter, "Catharsis" casting Webb in a lyrical, gently reflective mood in approaching the dark aspects of fame and creativity; while the hard-rocking, fuzz tone-laden "Song Seller" (which previously appeared in another version on Words & Music) deals with the creative/business treadmill on which composers can find themselves trapped; and "Piano" is about the solitude that all creativity seems to entail, at some point. These might invite accusations of self-pity, but Webb never descends to that level in his performances, and the lyrics are complex enough to invite a close look and analysis of the words -- indeed, this is like a John Lennon album of the period. And "When Can Brown Begin" recaptures, in its tempo, texture, and accompaniment, the most poignant elements of Webb's collaborations with Richard Harris. Arguably the best of Webb's solo albums, Letters was reissued on CD in Japan in 1999, with full lyrics.

(by Bruce Eder, All Music Guide)

Although always prone to country music, the second album by the Stars of Heaven is more reminiscent of Tennessee than their native Dublin. The production is far slicker than the primitive Sacred Heart Hotel. Ryan's vocals are well-suited to the tender melodies and bittersweet lyrics that are so prevalent on this album. Not that the Stars of Heaven can't rock when they want to. "28" (so called because it is twice as fast as Love's "7x7") consists of crashing guitars and a driving bassline, whereas "Three Kings Day" -- in which the protagonist drinks "wine as cheap as Hollywood" -- pulsates with fast guitars and up-tempo drumming. However, it is on the more tender songs that the Stars of Heaven really make their mark. Was there ever a more touching love song than "2 O'Clock Waltz"? Despite growing interest in their music, the Stars of Heaven disbanded very soon after the release of this album. Heaven only knows how successful they might have been.

(by Christian Smillie, All Music Guide)

Veloso continues to show his pre-eminence as a singer and songwriter with Noites Do Norte. He may be almost 60, but he's far from set in his ways, still chipping away at lyrical and musical boundaries. But where he looked outward many years ago, getting inspiration from the rock music of Britain and America, these days he looks inside, at Brazil, making songs like his version of Jorge Ben's "Zumbi" a cinematic journey across Brazil. The title track delves back into history, its words taken directly from the writing of 19th century abolitionist Joaquim Nabuco. Inevitably, samba and bossa nova remain the musical touchstones, but they're also the jumping-off point for experimentation, such as the hip-hop drumming (up front in the mix) on the opener, "Zera a Reza," or "13 De Maio," where son Moreno Veloso offers his own idiosyncratic approach to the playing and engineering. "Ia" uses electric guitar and drums to make a swirling soundscape that's almost modern psychedelia behind Veloso's instantly recognizable voice. Never content to tread ground he's already covered, Veloso continues to go off the map.

(by Chris Nickson, All Music Guide)

Nearly 35 years after the advent of tropicalia, the Brazilian movement that fused native music and visuals with Anglo/psychedelic flavors, singer-songwriter Caetano Veloso continues his deep, playful experimentation. Noites do Norte ("Northern Nights") is a striking art-pop fusion whose intellectualism is often bound up with the beauty of its layered tones. Concerns from the country's national identity and ongoing racial crises--a theme that fed Veloso's 2000 soundtrack to Orfeu, an update of the Black Orpheus story--to early memories, broken hearts, and the artist's adoration of filmmaker Michelangelo Antonioni swim through a colorful aural canvas. But for all of Veloso's trademark verbal surprises (for one, the Antonioni tribute is sung in Italian), it's easy to believe his claim that initially "I did not think about the songs. I went to the studio looking for sounds." Whether juxtaposing a Milesian trumpet with lush reeds and strings ("Sou Seu Sabiá"), deploying screeching rock guitar ("Rock 'n' Raul," "Ia") and machine noises ("Cantiga de Boi") in the midst of acoustic sound, or contrasting a troupe of drummers with baroque strings over the discrete movements of the three-minute title track, Veloso fills the disc with so much music that it seems to suspend or expand the listener's sense of time: a rare trick from a rare trickster.

(by Rickey Wright, amazon.com )

Legend has it that Joe Camilleri was kicked out of one of his earliest bands for sounding too much like Mick Jagger. If that's the case, Camilleri managed to overcome his problem in a unique way by the time of this, Black Sorrows' fifth album: Here, he makes himself sound just like Van Morrison instead. In fact, on tracks like "Glorybound" and "The Chosen Ones," Camilleri manages to channel the voice and persona of the Belfast bluesman so convincingly, it's hard to believe that Camilleri's performance pseudonym "Joey Vincent" isn't actually a cover for the "Van the Man" himself. Still, as impressive as that achievement may be, Hold On to Me isn't merely some sort of second-rate Van Morrison knock-off or tribute album. Camilleri and company may borrow many of the same ingredients that Morrison uses to make his music -- blues, soul, and R&B, as well as flashes of gospel, country, folk, and even Brill building pop -- but the trick is in mixing those well-worn ingredients together and coming up with something new. That's where Black Sorrows show that they're fit to be mentioned in the same breath with artists like Van Morrison and the Rolling Stones (or more contemporary critical favorites like John Hiatt, Paul Kelly, or Nick Lowe) -- every song on Hold On to Me sounds like it could be a classic (and classy) radio staple, without sounding like a copy of anything else. Not only is Hold On to Me's literate songwriting (by Camilleri and lyricist Nick Smith) superb, but the playing is also uniformly excellent (and, at times, positively inspired), and vocalists Camilleri and Linda and Vika Bull (the latter two making their debut on a Black Sorrows record) are soulful and gritty throughout. In the Sorrows' native Australia, Hold On to Me spawned three hit singles (the title track, "The Crack-Up," and "Chained to the Wheel"), and came to be regarded as an all-time homegrown masterpiece. But Hold On to Me deserves to be remembered as more than just an Australian classic -- this is a record that deserves to be heard and hailed by music fans the world over.

(by Rudyard Kennedy, All Music Guide)

It may be that the only thing that kept Souther from becoming a major star in the '70s was that his friends the Eagles beat him to the country-rock style demonstrated on this album, which features "The Fast One" and "Run Like a Thief," both recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

(by William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide)

For their second Reprise Records outing, Pearls Before Swine worked primarily with Nashville-based musicians, including a small orchestra who provide a stately feel to the highly intimate nature of the material. According to Tom Rapp's comments in the liner booklet accompanying the Jewels Were the Stars (2003) box , the songs were written while he and his wife were living in the Netherlands, which Rapp said contributed significantly to the air of romanticism throughout. "Jeweller" opens the album with an exquisite tale that exemplifies Rapp's remarkable abilities to draw upon disparate metaphors such as shining coins and worshiping God, both involving the Use of Ashes -- hence the title. The rural mood created by the notable Music City USA stalwarts effortlessly fuses with David Briggs' baroque-flavored harpsichord on the delicate "From the Movie of the Same Name," featuring Rapp and spouse Elisabeth on non-verbal vocalizations as they "da-da-da" the melody. Although "Rocket Man" predates the Elton John cut by a couple of years, Bernie Taupin cites it as his inspiration for the lyrics behind John's 1972 Top Ten hit. The words are credited as having been influenced by a Ray Bradbury novella that dealt with the universal emotion of loss. Again, Briggs' keyboard runs relate the story with subdued refinement. By contrast, "God Save the Child" is one of the more amplified inclusions, making good use of session heavies Kenneth A. Buttrey (drums) and Charlie McCoy (guitar), especially when placed against the restrained string section. Another sonic texture in the tapestry is the jazzy "Tell Me Why," shimmering with an uncredited vibraphone lead gliding beneath Rapp's whimsical lines. These tracks are offset by the noir "When the War Began," the ethereal love song "Margery," and the mid-tempo retelling of the "Riegal," a ship whose 4,000 inhabitants perished during World War II. Rapp's juxtaposition of stark imagery reveals that while Pearls Before Swine might not have continued the bombastic direction set about on their earlier protest works "Uncle John" or "Drop Out," they maintained social and political relevance ...

(by Lindsay Planer, All Music Guide)

Sonny Greenwich's vision of a guitar-based version of the John Coltrane Quartet circa 1963 is realized only intermittently on this 1978 live recording from Toronto. In his quest, the Canadian guitarist often adopts a purposefully primitive style, bringing a faux-naif, childlike approach to technique, execution, and intonation. That's fine. The problem is with Greenwich's general lack of dynamics and tone. As a result, the date remains largely earthbound, when something more cosmic was clearly intended. Pianist Don Thompson and bassist Gene Perla, both formidable talents, have difficulty accommodating themselves to Greenwich's conception. Thompson relegates himself to minimalist comping, while Perla frequently seems superfluous. The real action is between Greenwich and drummer Claude Ranger. The drummer is, in fact, the main point of interest. He is attuned to Greenwich's objective and engages the guitarist throughout, at times coming close to the type of intense communication that occurred between Elvin Jones and Coltrane in the later work of the classic quartet. This release also has its more orthodox stretches, such as the lively treatment of Horace Silver's "Nica's Dream" and the fairly straight reading of the Mercer-Mandel ballad "Emily." The most successful track, though, is the title track, where the Greenwich-Ranger axis hits a vein of pure energy, with the guitarist's primitivism and the drummer's free-pulsing torrent combining for a few moments of apocalyptic grandeur.

(by Jim Todd, All Music Guide)

Singer/songwriter Syd Straw's 1989 debut album Surprise charted a path soon followed by a number of more famous female rockers, makes herself different from the rest of the female rock artists of the '80s and '90s. She's earnest in a way that doesn't have to be automatically friendly or mysteriously cunning. Surprise was reissued by the Koch label ten years after its initial release and marks the album's simplistic beauty. Representing a departure from her '80s work with the Golden Palominos, Surprise finds Straw in the role of down-home girl with a heart to be mended, singing of love like everyone else but with a style all her own. The album exhibits Straw's broad range, from brooding songs like "Crazy American" and "Sphinx" to "Future 40s (String of Pearls)," a twangy lovesucker featuring backup from R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe. (Straw's abrasiveness on this track is utterly perfect, especially in contrast to Stipe's calmer vocal approach.) But Surprise isn't based entirely around Straw's patented vocal style, earnest while neither overly friendly nor mysteriously cunning. This is also an album of strong musicianship from Straw (her guitar work is impeccable throughout) and an all-star cast including Daniel Lanois, Benmont Tench, John Doe of X, and Richard Thompson. The album's style and production mix jangle pop elements from the preceding decade with a roots rock tone, and the overall result has a healthy folkish disposition. Surprise anticipates what was to come for females in rock during the '90s; Syd Straw was first in a line of artists who most prominently included Sheryl Crow, Joan Osborne, and Edie Brickell.

(by MacKenzie Wilson, All Music Guide)

Imagine an album on which every track is a fully conceived and superbly executed pop gem, at once timeless and unique, with hooks to die for, gorgeous, chiming guitar breaks, compelling, literate, emotionally charged lyrics, and a passionate and driven vocalist who ties all these distinct elements together into a perfect package, without the slightest trace of gimmickry or trendiness. Now imagine that this record is released with virtually no record label support, is totally ignored by radio and the music press--even the "hip" music press--and subsequently stiffs in the racks, disappearing without a trace. Such is the tragic truth of Interview self-titled second LP (titled Snakes and Lovers overseas), released in 1980.

The Bath band's 1979 debut, Big Oceans, was a lackluster effort, notable primarily for interesting fretless bass work and some intellectually appealing subject matter, as on "Hart Crane In Mexico," and "Academies To Anger." What an unexpected turn of events then, when the band re-emerged the following year with what is unquestionably one of the greatest rock albums ever. From the opening strains of "Adventurers," with its rhyming guitars sounding the album's arrival, the listener knows that something very special lies ahead. As vocalist Jeff Starrs mounts the chorus, "On a day like today/I can help you be/Tall, brave, and strong," those rousing guitars enter once again, and my God, you believe him.

There is simply no let up in quality on this record. The single "Hide and Seek," with its enchanting chorus and pseudo-"Mr. Sandman" backing vocals has "hit" written all over every note. The record did nothing. The list of sure-fire shouldabeens continues: "It's Over Now," ("How can I comfort you/When you don't want me to?"), the metaphorical "Crossing Borders," and the confusion of lost love of "To the People" all delivered with confidence and maturity, and an uncanny knack for pop hooks, are classic examples of what pop music can become in the right hands.

Elsewhere, we find the gentle piano and soft cushion of synthesized keyboards of "Union Man," utterly resigned in attitude, in which the failure of a workers' uprising is as predictable as the coming of the spring rain. Starrs, and co-writers Alan Brain and Peter Allerhand never glorify, as other, less mature outfits might (U2 come to mind). They merely observe. "The Conqueror" is a scathing attack against female domesticity: "'Let's go get married'/Is that all I hear you say?/There's a conqueror here I have to slay." On an album of masterpieces, this track may be the most masterful of all. The tempo has been slowed, giving Starrs time milk every note of all its energy, as he seethes with anger and inner turmoil.

By album's end, after eight overwhelming minutes of shame and personal wreckage in "Until I Hold Her," ("There's nothing that I can do until I hold her/And you must never tell her that I told you"), a musical equivalent of the destruction scene in Citizen Kane, the listener is exhausted, drained, but still hoping for more. Unfortunately, there is no more. INTERVIEW died as quietly as they arrived, and no one even showed up for the funeral.

Whose fault is it that Interview were never given a chance? Surely, their label, Virgin Records is the primary culprit, making no attempt whatsoever to market the band. The music press too is culpable. While it's expected that corporate beasts like Rolling Stone should ignore them, nary a word was written about the band in either Trouser Press or New York Rocker, the two finest music magazines of that era. (Okay, to be fair, "Hide and Seek" had a nice sentence written about it by Ken Barnes in NYR, and even the folks at Rolling Stone give the album a few words of (misdirected) praise in their otherwise laughable Record Guide.) Certainly, radio, both corporate and college, could have provided INTERVIEW with their most obvious and natural home. It didn't.

It's futile to wallow in such past blunders at this late date, unless, of course, some label decides to pick up the record for release on CD, in which case Interview might, just might, have the chance to finally be recognized for what they were.

(www.seedyroad.com)

Recorded at the Village Vanguard in the spring of 1978, this album is an obscure classic of hard-hitting, post-bop New York jazz. It consists of only three tunes, played by a tremendous lineup -- Liebman on tenor and soprano saxes (he'd soon switch to soprano exclusively, then back again around 1996), Randy Brecker on trumpet, Richard Beirach on piano, Frank Tusa on bass, and Al Foster on drums. The quintet begins with Beirach's modal milestone "Pendulum" and hammers away at it for over 18 minutes. Liebman's mid-tempo, boppish "Piccadilly Lilly" is next, followed by a 17-minute romp on Wayne Shorter's "Footprints." The original LP includes photos of the band, in garish '70s garb, kicking back with Max Gordon, the late owner of the Vanguard. There's also a booklet with Liebman's shop-talking liner notes, an early Liebman discography, and lead sheets for "Piccadilly Lilly" and "Pendulum." A collector's item, and a terrific listen as well.

(by David R. Adler, All Music Guide)

Die vier Dänen aus Aarhus sind seit Jahren die Band von Howe Gelb, mithin die europäischen Giant Sand, fungieren außerdem u.a. als Band für Isobel Campbell und Mark Lanegan, sowie Kurt Wagner oder Scout Niblett und sind als Nive Nielsen’s Deer Children oder mit Plastic Horse auf Tour. Aber neben ihrem Ansatz „to play with anyone interesting around“ sind sie als The DeSoto Caucus ganz sie selbst.

Mit eigenen Songs, die ihre Einflüsse („mainly all kinds of Cosmic American Music“) widerspiegeln, die aber nicht nur nach Joshua Tree, Wüste oder Sessions am Lagerfeuer klingen, sondern vielschichtig und in ihrer unprätentiösen Brillanz atemnehmend sind.

Zum über allen Zweifel erhabenen Songwriting gesellt sich höchste musikalische Akkuratesse, einhergehend mit einer lässigen Chuzpe, für die es keinen anderen Begriff als „cool“ gibt. Komplexe Grooves und coole Gitarren in einer zeitlosen Vintage-Klanglandschaft - The DeSoto Caucus verbinden Geschmack, Stil und Kennerschaft. Die Jungs wissen was sie tun. Und das tun sie begeisternd. So begeisternd dass sie jüngst mit weit offenen Armen in der Glitterhouse Records Family Of Music aufgenommen wurden. "Offramp Rodeo" ist ihr zweites Album.

(Glitterhouse)

”Offramp Rodeo” is the second album from Howe Gelb affiliates, The DeSoto Caucus, and their first international release.

After years of touring as part of Giant Sand, these are the impressions from the dusty trail, transformed by the native Danes into a slightly melancholic singer-songwriter based indie-rock. A very original music with brilliant and sometimes downright complex grooves, cool guitar work, and a timeless vintage soundscape inhabited by organs, maracas and vibraphones. Add to that two handfuls of clever and intriguing lyrics, haunting voices, and great dynamics, and you get the picture.

The DeSoto Caucus was started when Anders Pedersen, Thøger T. Lund and Peter Dombernowsky sat around during their Giant Sand bandleader Howe Gelb's successful run with a bunch of Canadians and The Voices of Praise gospel choir. Elite Continental Custom Club became the first released recording under the Desoto Caucus name and soon the trio started opening for themselves on Giant Sand tours. The initial idea always having been for the band to serve as a basis for playing with anyone interesting around, an invitation from the band's hometown of Aarhus, Denmark offered an opportunity to work with Kurt Wagner as a steady five-piece. Following the success of that cooperation, the band started a tradition of putting on shows at the annual Aarhus Festival, bringing in gifted singers and songwriters for one-off shows under the Medium-Rare Sessions moniker. 2013 it's time for the second album at last.

No one, not even Robin Trower, embodied the essence of Jimi Hendrix' playing like this sadly unrecognized guitar god. Recorded only four months after Jimi's death, this powerful performance for an appreciative New York crowd has his spirit and some of his chops shot through it. The album's strength is undercut by a long, meandering treatment of the Jack Bruce tune "Can You Follow?" But rock-solid bassist Mervin Bronson and inventive drummer Harry Wilkinson, longtime sidemen for their fleet-fingered frontman, give him all the freedom he needs to crunch his chords, as well as veer off on some jazzy tangents.

(by Mark Allan, All Music Guide)

Marrying Waldman's sound with the inestimable Muscle Shoals musicians, Gypsy Symphony is a funky, shimmering delight, and other artists weren't slow to notice. "My Love Is All I Know," "The Good Love" and "Mad Mad Me" were recorded by Melissa Manchester, Percy Sledge and Maria Muldaur, respectively. The latter, in particular, showcases Waldman as a more accessible, more accommodating Laura Nyro, and possibly a more deft pianist, too. Most compositions on the record flaunts unexpected chord progressions, adventurous time signatures, snappy horn charts and a maverick spirit that should have shone brightly among some of the bland embarrassments emerging from the West Coast scene at the time; a shame, then, that not many people noticed.

(by Charles Donovan, All Music Guide)

Adventure has to count for something. When the Rascals dropped the word "Young" from the front of their name, it offered listeners and fans the signal was that everything would be different from then on. While the band could — and would still — write infectious, sophisticated blue-eyed soul numbers, they'd heard Blonde on Blonde, Pet Sounds, and Sgt. Pepper's. They were also keenly aware of the time they lived in. Once Upon a Dream, issued in February of 1968, was their first reach into previously uncharted territory, being constructed as an album instead of as a collection of singles. In the 21st century, it stands as one of rock's great overlooked classics with its ambitious production, multi-part expanded songwriting exercises, and some of the most ambitious vocalizing the band had yet attempted. But if that outing had been ambitious and even visionary, Freedom Suite, released in 1969 as the group's fifth album, was off the map. The band dug in and wrote a single LP's worth of solid tunes including a quartet of fine singles. First, there is "People Got to Be Free," which spent five weeks at Number One on the pop (and hit number 14 on the R&B chart as well). Then there's easy summer soul and gospel groove on "A Ray of Hope," which may have only gotten to number 39, but it's among the most enduring cuts in the Rascals legacy. The track "Heaven," which closed the first disc of Freedom Suite, was also wrapped tightly in urban gospel.

"People Got to Be Free" is not typical of the Rascals massive offerings, but neither is it atypical of the first LP in the collection, which contains 11 more or less conventionally written (by Rascals standards) songs. While the four previously mentioned cuts stood out from the rest, there wasn't any filler on that first platter, either. Arif Mardin co-produced with the band and arranged and conducted strings and large horn sections. Some of the soloists included King Curtis on "Of Course," and David "Fathead" Newman on "Adrian's Birthday." Tom Down engineered a couple of cuts, but Adrian Barber did the rest of the session. Eddie Brigati and Felix Cavaliere wrote all but three songs on the first disc, and were as tight a team as ever. Gene Cornish wrote a pair on the first platter including the killer piano soul-jazz cum rock number "Me and My Friends." But it's disc two that flips out everyone at first, wondering if this is indeed the Rascals after all. There's the jazzed up (think Ramsey Lewis Trio groove) "Adrian's Birthday," which was downright funky with popping bass by Chuck Rainey, fuzzed out stereo-effects guitar from Cornish, and a loose as a goose feeling more like a basement jam than a Rascals cut, especially with the gutbucket tenor break from Newman.

But it is a portent of things to come with the two nearly side-long cuts that follow. First, there's "Boom," which clocks in at nearly 14 minutes. It's a Dino Danelli drum solo, all of it. True, Danelli, who'd played with New Orleans jazz legend Henry "Red" Tyler and Lionel Hampton's band could play the hell out of the drums, but 14 minutes on a rock & roll album? Then there's "Cute," running over 15 minutes, which is a jam, period. Beginning with Cavaliere's Hammond B-3 and Danelli's popping drum kit, Cornish digs deep into his soul-jazz hit. This sounds more like a Prestige date by Jack McDuff up until a third of the way through, with one of the three session bassists (Rainey or Gerry Jemmott or Richard Davis; the player isn't named), pulling out he stops and driving the trio. At about five minutes in it begins to slip into tripped out, improvisational territory. For most acts this would be the death knell, but not for these cats. They let it wander for a minute or so and bring the groove back and then let it wander and come back, but Danelli takes too long a drum break given you'd just had nearly 14 minutes of one a track earlier. It's excessive, but it rocks too. The jam works as such for most of its length because the grooves are so dirty and heavy, and the cracking rhythms with killer breakbeats are just what the doctor ordered after an album of pop tunes. But its excesses do overreach, and therefore, that second disc in the set becomes all but superfluous. Freedom Suite reached number 127 on the chart, because of its reach, and would be the second to last Rascals album to produce any singles in the Top 40. The CD version is actually easier to handle with the skip factor, and after "Adrian's Birthday," can be pulled. Still, one needs to hear "Cute" at least once.

(by Thom Jurek, All Music Guide)

Although the Rowans — Peter (guitar/mandolin/vocals), Lorin (guitar/vocals), and Chris (guitar/flute) — hailed from Massachusetts, their rural leanings resurfaced on their third and arguably most accessible collection to date. The trio's strengths as musical chameleons are evident in both their writing and their eclectic performance styles. This is undoubtedly a double-edged sword, as it likewise made them difficult to adequately "market" to the typical mid-'70s pop music audience. Indeed, the term "progressive bluegrass" seems apt in capturing the modern directions that fuse the strict acoustic lineage and prowess of bluegrass with any number of disparate elements, such as jazz, pop, and country-rock. In addition to exploring those aural amalgamations, they venture into a rocksteady Rasta vibe on "Love Is" and even straight-ahead MOR during the slightly Philly soul-influenced "Ooh My Love." They don't stray far for very long, however, as "Tired Hands," "Mongolian Swamp/Kings Men," and the extended eight-plus minute "Joaquin Murrieta" venture closer to their conventional ancestry. The latter title is one of the more obvious examples of Peter Rowan's ability to augment a Spanish-flavored ballad with a sense of the decidedly American bluegrass tradition. The breezy vocals on "If I Only Could" scored the Rowans a little bit of chart action, conjuring up the laid-back slightly folkie sound of other West Coast acts such as the Eagles and America. The same can be said of the equally amiable "No Desanimes Amor (Don't Disappoint Love)," which also provides a suitable backdrop for their robust three-part harmonies. In 2004, Sibling Rivalry was issued on compact disc and paired with the follow-up, Jubilation (1977), onto a two-fer CD. As the LP had been out of print for over two decades, for many enthusiasts this release may well be their first opportunity to enjoy this classic recording. It is also recommended as the perfect starting point for the curious.

(by Lindsay Planer, All Music Guide)

Not surprisingly, Clover's fourth and final album, the second of its British sojourn, had a harder rock edge than its predecessors. Clover had come over to England as a California country-rock outfit, only to land in the middle of the punk rock revolt. Its first British album, Clover (or Unavailable, as it was called in the U.K.) retained the country sound, but by the end of 1977, the band was all up-tempo rock and twin guitar leads, courtesy of Alex Call and John McFee. The music wasn't punk, exactly, but it was more aggressive. Still, Clover remained an essentially good-natured musicians' band, as the loose a cappella version of Leiber & Stoller's "Keep on Rolling" demonstrated. In another time and place, maybe that would have mattered.

(by William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide)

Nicht vom Namen abschrecken lassen, denn das ist eine der aufregendsten Gruppen im Spannungsfeld zwischen Swell, Yo La Tengo, Pavement und den Palace Brothers. Auf dem hier vorliegenden Zweitling bewegt sich das Quartett aus San Francisco um Gitarrist/Geiger und Sänger Kyle Stathan wieder in der angestammten, poetischen Klangwelt, in der langsam-bedächtige Songskizzen a la Red House Painters mit engmaschigen Gitarrenlinien und brüchig-traurigem Gesang den Ton und die Stimmung vorgeben.

(Glitterhouse)

...eine Sammlung kaputter SloMo/Neo-Folk-Perlen in bester American Music Club/Palace Brothers-Tradition. Keine Frage, diese Platte wächst und gedeiht, selbst im mächtigen Schatten der wieder erstarkten SF-Institution Swell ...

(Intro)

Fuck ist die Band, die die wohl bezauberndsten Zeitlupen-Melodien zu schreiben im Stande ist.

(ME/Sounds)

Fanny Hill is the work of a rock & roll band which goes beyond gender and should have been as popular as it is classic. Beginning with "Ain't That Peculiar," the 1965 Top Ten hit for Marvin Gaye, June Millington's slide guitar is augmented by Bobby Keys' baritone sax creating an entirely new sound for the Motown standard. Recorded at Abbey Studios in London, Fanny cleverly use the Beatles' facility and the Rolling Stones' horn players, an excellent combination. Nickey Barclay's "Knock on My Door" creates a subtle mood; however, the gals can't seem to wait to explode again with "Blind Alley." Jean Millington's "Wonderful Feeling" is very strong, with the musicians weaving textures here as they do on sister June Millington's "Think About the Children." Nickey Barclay's keyboards have that elegant "Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys" sound that Steve Winwood was so enamored of. It is perfect here, with Richard Perry keeping the instruments in their own space, gaining insight into what he would do with the Pointer Sisters years after this album, the density of "You're So Vain" and "Photograph," the producer's neo-Phil Spector radio hits, not employed on Fanny Hill. Perry wisely lets Fanny provide the sound -- as they do so well on one of the finest covers in Beatles history, their definitive version of "Hey Bulldog." It's an all-out assault, more furious than the subdued "Sound and the Fury," a song which the Go Go's needed to fill out their repertoire. Fanny Hill is a special album for many reasons; the most important, though, is the unique vision which paved the way for other artists. The gospel feel of "The First Time" enjoys the brass of Jim Price and defines Richard Perry's approach to this classic recording. He gives listeners a picture-perfect glimpse of musicians who don't need frills to get their point across. Fanny Hill has some exhilarating moments and is a wonderful document of unbridled artistic expression.

(by Joe Viglione, All Music Guide)

The third time really was the charm for Fanny, the pioneering all-female rock band who were the first act of their kind to win a major-label record deal in 1970. While Fanny's second album, 1971's Charity Ball, was a solid and imaginative set whose title track became a minor hit single, their third album, 1972's Fanny Hill, truly caught them at the peak of their strength. Produced by Richard Perry at London's Abbey Road Studio, with Geoff Emerick as engineer (who worked on several of the Beatles' best recordings), Fanny Hill is the group's hardest-rocking set, full of June Millington's big, raunchy guitar figures facing off with Nickey Barclay's rollicking keyboards, the smart but muscular rhythm section of Alice de Buhr on drums and Jean Millington on bass, and the foursome's stellar harmonies. Fanny were more than capable of effectively turning down the tempo for quieter numbers like "You've Got a Home" and "Wonderful Feeling," but it's rockers like "Blind Alley" and their covers of Marvin Gaye's "Ain't That Peculiar" (with Rolling Stones associate Bobby Keys on sax) and the Beatles' "Hey Bulldog" where Fanny demonstrate they were one of the best and most underappreciated American rock bands of the '70s. Fanny Hill still stands out as this group's strongest and most exciting work.

(by Mark Deming, All Music Guide)

Originally released in 1990 and then re-released in 2002 with a solid remastering job and a slew of extra tracks from a Dutch radio session, Today Wonder in many ways was the release that helped determine part (if not all) of Ed Kuepper's future work. Specifically, it's the way around close, quiet, but still tense and strong performances, evident on such later releases as I Was a Mail Order Bridegroom. In the reissue, Kuepper notes how he and drummer Mark Dawson wanted to avoid "the usual 'doing the greatest hits acoustically' routine," and in a series of rehearsals for a tour start tried other approaches with newer songs or cover versions. Dawson himself plays a stripped-down set -- partially using a cardboard box -- while Kuepper uses a variety of unexpected tunings on his guitar, as well as using his familiar, rich voice. The end result's a beauty of a record, captured well on tape with just enough echo (Kuepper semi-jokingly calls the effect "ambient rockabilly," and certainly on songs like "Always the Woman Pays" it could be the Durutti Column at Sun Studios). One of Kuepper's all-time classics, "Everything I've Got Belongs to You," made its first bow here, the killer opening line, "I've designs on you that come from dirty books" still a winner, while an earlier sample of his brilliance, the Saints' "Eternally Yours," also takes a bow. Covers include Tim Hardin's "If I Were a Carpenter" and the title track, actually a medley with Donovan and the Animals adding to Kuepper's original, while self-penned highlights include "What You Don't Know," with a nervous, dramatic edge, and the gentler-paced but not-less-commanding "There's Nothing Natural." The radio-set extras add even more of a frenetic charge to the more commanding songs -- "Always the Woman Pays" practically leaps out at the listener and "Pretty Mary" isn't far behind.

(by Ned Raggett, All Music Guide)

The band's fifth release, Rain Dances is Camel at its best, offering the most consistent and representative package in their saga. The addition of Caravan-cofounder Richard Sinclair proves profitable, as do a few colorist touches by Brian Eno on "Elke." Mel Collins' woodwinds are among the highlights, especially on "Tell Me" and the title track. From beginning to end, this project flows gracefully.

(by Matthew Plichta, All Music Guide)

Just a flat out stunning record. Any fan of the mandolin must spend some time at the house that David built. His self described "Dawg Music" is stylistically apart from the hard-core traditional folk and bluegrass sounds, but rather than renounce the roots of the instrument he manages to evolve it into something beautiful. Consisting of all original pieces save one by the guitar master Django Reinhardt the record just touches the surface before it sadly ends. But never fear gentle reader, David's catalogue is full of great records and he continues to record and share his music with his ever loyal fan base. Any of his recordings, either solo, Dawg or collaborations with Jerry Garcia and Tony Rice are worth a thorough listening. The cover illustration, although consisting of musical clowns, flowers and other circus and natural element, has a slightly dark and sinister feel to it. Reminds me a bit of Hieronymus Bosch in the depth and variety of characters portrayed in his tableaus. Find this puppy and give it a spin or two.

(Tralfaz-Archive)

Jim Capaldi began his solo career just as Traffic had reached their peak, releasing his solo debut Oh How We Danced in early 1972, not long after the high-water marks of John Barleycorn Must Die and The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys. Oh How We Danced isn't so much a break from Traffic but a detour, one where he's joined by then-current and former bandmates (Steve Winwood and Dave Mason, respectively), assisted by Free's Paul Kossoff, the Move's Trevor Burton, Rick Gresch, Jim Gordon and the Muscle Shoals Horns, among other rock luminaries. In feel, this isn't much different than early-'70s Traffic, but the album is quite different in form, relying less on the winding, jazzy improvisations than well-worn, soulful grooves, given heart and by both the Muscle Shoals Horns and Kossoff, who particularly tears it up on a drastic reworking of the Al Jolson-written title track. For as much fire there is here and elsewhere ("Love Is All You Can Try" works up a good head of steam), Oh How We Danced is distinguished by its mellow vibe, generated by the genial familiarity of the players, Capaldi's sweet, unassuming voice, and the emphasis on his set of strong songs instead of the virtuosity of his musicians.

(by Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide)

This is not very interesting music. While a fine finger-picking guitarist, Jon Mark is a lousy singer and inane lyricist. With the exception of a couple of brief jazz jams, the material is uniformly slow and draggy. Charles Mingus drummer Dannie Richmond's presence is invisible throughout much of this record. The bright spots here are provided primarily by Johnnie Almond's saxes and flutes, but Mark-Almond II is mostly one long snooze.

(by Jim Newsom, All Music Guide)

Mark Almond is at their best when they are playing either the melodic and harmonic acoustical tunes or the jazz-oriented fast moving jams. The other portion of their material tends to become slow, long-winded, floozy nightclub music. So the main problem with doing this review is the decision whether the good outweighs the bad or vice-versa.

An enterprising public relations man might have hyped this as a “concept” album. Side One is a collection of tunes with the common theme of the beauty of life up north termed The Sausalito Bay Suite. Side Two is the ever-popular “rock-star-away-from-home-and-getting-lonely theme termed Journey through New England.

The first cut is one of the acoustical numbers, “The Bridge,” done very effectively with a simple arrangement of 12-string guitar and the voice of Jon Mark with nice harmonies contributed by the rest of the group. The cut fades into a jazz interlude which is kept short so as not to lose the listener’s attention and then fades back in again to close out the tune.

The following two cuts suffer from the tremendous misconception on the group’s part as to what is effective. Certainly not twelve minutes of an electric piano and bass drooling behind a monotonous vocal interspersed with the accomplished yet sleep-inducing saxophone work of Johnnie Almond.

The first side’s final cut, “Friends,” is, just as the previous was Mark Almond’s worst, Mark Almond’s best.

The second side begins in a John Sebastian vein, with a uplifting theme and arrangement but doesn’t waste too much time before drifting back into the familiar trap in which they seem intent on proving their musical abilities one by one at the expense of the listener. They are tremendously talented musicians but should learn to conserve their talents and contribute them in small doses, in the manner of Traffic.

This album could be best described as a failure on the slow numbers, and a success on the low-keyed, up-tempo tunes. And all I can say after that is that the latter material is good enough to merit constant playing.

(Courtesy of the Door – Cameron Crowe - February 1972)

Elisa Randazzo ist eine US-amerikanische Musikerin, Songwriterin und erfolgreiche Modedesignerin (Dusty Of California und Cameo sind ihre bekanntesten Kollektionen). Sie spielte auf vier Alben der Legende Red Krayola, und ihre Eltern haben Pop-Songs für The Zombies, Linda Ronstadt und Frank Sinatra geschrieben. Mit diesen Genen und einer großen Portion Talent hat Elisa nun ein tolles Songwriter-Soloalbum abgeliefert.

Dieses Album sollte man unbedingt in entspannter Stimmung hören - es verträgt einfach keine Hektik.

(Good Times, 10.11 / 2010)

Aussies with a gothic vision of the American South.

(by Robert Gordon, All Music Guide)

Six years after his superb I Often Dream of Trains, Robyn Hitchcock returned to the acoustic format of that album with Eye, and while the surfaces of the two albums are similar and Eye was eagerly embraced by fans, the tone of the two discs is considerably different. I Often Dream of Trains was a collection of songs written as Hitchcock was slowly returning to a career in music after a two-year layoff, and there's a striking if subtle power in the occasional tentative moments and understated tone. Eye, on the other hand, is a far more confident album, and Hitchcock's performances boast a precision that befits a musician who had been recording and touring at a steady clip for the past six years, especially in his splendid guitar work. The surreal whimsy of I Often Dream of Trains also takes a backseat on Eye, replaced by the relative clarity of "Cynthia Mask," an idiosyncratic but unblinking condemnation of Britain's failings during World War II, "Raining Twilight Coast," a point-of-view profile of various emotional hurts, and "Queen Elvis," a meditation on the effects of fame; the most Eye can offer in the way of humor is "Clean Steve" and "Certainly Clickot." But if Eye isn't the understated masterpiece I Often Dream of Trains was, it's Hitchcock's most consistent and satisfying album of the '80s; the songs are intelligent, effective and don't rely on his eccentricities to work, while the melodies are winning and his vocals are beautifully modulated. While Eye lacks Hitchcock's exciting electric guitar work, it's still the best representation of his music from a period when he made a couple of good records but few great ones.

(by Mark Deming, All Music Guide)

A sort of sequel to I Often Dream of Trains, 1990's Eye is another stark, solo work that served as a creative shelter for ROBYN HITCHCOCK at this time in his career. During this period he was recording a major-label rock album quite different from what he put forth on Eye. "I got to record Eye at a time when a lot of people were on my case," explains Hitchcock. "It had nobody else on it and no Alternative Chart expectations. It was luxury, a wide open meadow to kvetch in." The disc still rings true with fans and live crowds with the inclusion of favorites such as, "Queen Elvis" and "Glass Hotel."

Dies ist bereits das dritte Album der Wahlberlinerin Barbara Gosza - höchste Zeit, daß die Sängerin mit tschechischen Eltern einen größeren Zuhörerkreis findet: Aufgewachsen in Chicago, spielte sie in Paris und Berlin als Straßenmusikerin und in Bars. Wenngleich sie ihre ersten Songs als "Hippie-Folk" bezeichnet und als Vorbild gerne Rickie Lee Jones zitiert, beeindruckt sie schlichtweg mit ihrer markant-angerauhten Stimme und melancholisch-kraftvollen, oft balladesken Songs, sogar in Dylans Just Like A Woman - wunderbar charmant und spröde zugleich.

(© Audio)

Billy Cobham's second date as a leader was one of his better sessions. Four songs (all originals by the leader/drummer) comprise "Spanish Moss -- A Sound Portrait," and, in addition, Cobham contributed three other pieces. The selections team him with guitarist John Abercrombie, both of the Brecker Brothers, trombonist Garnett Brown, keyboardist George Duke, bassist John Williams, and Latin percussionist Lee Pastora. In general, the melodies and the vamps are reasonably memorable. Cobham also takes an unaccompanied drum solo on "Storm." Worth searching for by fusion collectors.

(by Scott Yanow, All Music Guide)

Although Caliman was born in Idabel, Oklahoma, in 1932, he is so closely associated with the early Bebop scene in Los Angeles that it's easy to think of Southern California as his birthplace. The Central Avenue clubs (the Cotton Club, Club Alabam, The Downbeat, Club Araby, Club Finale) first opened Caliman's eyes to jazz. The studios in nearby Hollywood included jazz in its films and on its recordings. The predominantly African American high schools in South Central Los Angeles boasted small big band programs with a number of talented young musicians. At Jefferson, Caliman's high school, an anonymous donor provided tubas and saxophones. An instructor was hired and a big band was born. Caliman joined that big band (along with another tenor saxophonist, Wilbur Brown) and learned charts by Duke Ellington and Count Basie.

The high school band was only part of Caliman's education in jazz. The clubs and its touring musicians helped foster his musical interest. "When I was a kid at that age," recalls Caliman, "it was nothing to see musicians live. Duke Ellington? Count Basie? Lionel Hampton? You got the chance to see the guys and know them. There's a band that Eddie Vinson used to play with -The Cleanheads. Every time they came to town, I saw that band. I knew the guys in the band."

Another important influence on Caliman was the great tenor saxophonist Dexter Gordon. Caliman's family lived on the same street as Gordon's. The young saxophonist had listened to his records in high school, and emulated the lanky, gifted Gordon. "Everyone was trying to sound like Dexter or Lucky Thompson back then," says Caliman. "I had all Dexter's records." Caliman wasn't shy. He introduced himself to Gordon -4 years his senior- and they connected. Gordon sometimes borrowed Caliman's horn. "That's how I really got to know him," he adds. "I had the same kind of saxophone that he had." In one instance, Gordon had dropped his saxophone, damaging the instrument. He visited Caliman and asked if he could borrow his horn. "Of course!" Caliman recalls, laughing. "I thought maybe some notes would stick up in there!"

The connection was made. Gordon provided instruction to Caliman. Caliman, in turn, became know as "Little Dex" around the Central Avenue scene. Unfortunately, the pair had something else in common: both musicians were junkies. Caliman's Bebop career was starting to take off. He was performing at clubs around Los Angeles, and touring with various combos and ensembles. Cocaine, heroin, and crime however, were bigger influences than Bebop. In the early 1950's, Caliman would find himself in prison alongside his mentor and idol Dexter Gordon.

Caliman's first run-in with the law was in the 1950s. By his own admission, Caliman (along with his girlfriend at the time) burglarized an office in Los Angeles, stole the company's checkbook, and began forging checks in order to pay for their drug addiction. The police were soon onto Caliman and his companion. The pair fled to Idabel, Oklahoma then moved to Cincinnati (his girlfriend's hometown). Her father was the top juvenile officer in the city, and helped Caliman find a job delivering flowers. Shortly thereafter, her father learned about their run-in with the Los Angeles law enforcement, and Caliman was offered a choice. "Her father told me, 'I'll help you anyway you want,'" Caliman recalls. "'You can run or you can turn yourself in.'"

Caliman turned himself over to the authorities. The pair was flown back to Los Angeles and thrown in jail. She was bailed out immediately. Caliman, on the other hand, remained incarcerated. "My dad said, 'Well, I know where you are. You're good and healthy. They'll feed you. You're not out on the streets. I'm not worried about you.'"

Caliman's girlfriend eventually bailed him out of jail. The next day, Caliman was busted for attempting to steal a cigarette truck. He landed in prison this time, at Chino, with Gordon and a number of other jazz musicians. Caliman's addiction was not uncommon at the time. Many jazz musicians were struggling with heroin and cocaine addiction, and landed in jail throughout their careers. "It was a trend at the time," explains Caliman. "Everyone was [messed] up." Caliman remembers spending a stint in jail with Miles Davis and Art Blakey. "They were busted and sent to this segregated tank," says Caliman. "Nobody knew who they were, except some of the musicians. I recognized who they were, and brought them up to the front section where it was privileged to be. I had been in there long enough."

Meanwhile, back at Chino, Caliman was waiting to learn which prison he would be sent to: the maximum security San Quentin facility? Or the minimum-security facility at Chino. He was twenty years old and facing eighteen months of incarceration.

He was sent to San Quentin. It was there that he met other musicians, including a saxophonist named Yama Johnson. "The guy played exactly like Charlie Parker," Caliman recalls, clearly in awe and still amazed by the musician. "This guy was self-taught. He played out of the side of his mouth, he couldn't read a note, but he could play exactly like Charlie Parker. We would go down to the yard and play. I learned a lot of stuff in prison. Nothing about technique or tone or armature or finger position. Just blowing. Just making a loud sound."

Caliman was returned to Chino shortly before his release. He joined Gordon, Roy Porter, Honsey Matthews, and other jazz musicians. Caliman and Gordon would walk the yard and talk about music. A teacher from Pomona College taught the inmates dictation, theory, and even some classical music. "I tried to play the clarinet," he says (he would later use that instrument on recordings with Carlos Santana during the 1970s, in addition to his own recordings). "Dex tried to play the flute. We just did different stuff. And then we would have jam sessions."

Caliman was eventually released from prison. But things were hardly any easier. "Prison turned out to be a stigma," says Caliman. "You were dead. 'Oh, yeah, I'm a trustworthy person. I just got out of jail. I can get a good job.' No. It was an economic squeeze. If you came out of prison, the only job was being a jazz musician. As a jazz musician, the environment was really bad for someone with an addiction. So it might be better if you got yourself a straight job. Don't play music anymore." Quitting music was not an option. Kicking his drug addiction was equally as challenging. Caliman's choice was both difficult and mature. It was a choice that would also turn his life around and rescue his jazz career. "I started paying attention to the horn," he says, frankly. "I realized that drugs were keeping me from the horn. I was through with that [stuff]. If there was a room full of drugs, I didn't want any of it. It was hard to turn it around, but it was the last straw. That was it. I wanted to play my horn. I wanted to play my saxophone and stay out of jail."

Caliman began to network with other musicians in Los Angeles. He went to Sunday jam sessions. He hooked up with Bobby Hutcherson, performing at a gig six nights a week for nearly three years. He also made a living working at recording sessions. He performed at casuals and dances. Anything to keep him away from drugs.

A phone call from Gerald Wilson also helped. Walter Benton had quit Wilson's big band, and Caliman was offered the spot. He headed to Salt Lake City with the group. "It was a totally different thing," says Caliman. "It really encouraged me. I had lots of solo space, and Gerald really liked me."

A similar phone call from Louis Gasca, inviting Caliman to play with Mongo Santamaria, provided more opportunities. Gasca had kicked Bobby Capers out of the group, and he needed a tenor horn. Caliman joined the group and performed for a month at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, a month at the El Matador in San Francisco, several years at various clubs in New York City, and a long recording stint in Philadelphia.

Caliman eventually quit the band and returned to Los Angeles, where he recorded with Leonard Feather, Joe Pass, Joe Harris, and others. Caliman also spent the 1970s recording with rock musicians. He recorded a number of sessions (and subsequently toured) with Carlos Santana and The Grateful Dead. "There was so much money on the rock and roll side," says Caliman. "It was phenomenal."

Caliman had turned things around. He had a solid professional career. Most importantly, he recorded four albums as a composer and bandleader: Hadley Caliman (1971), Impetus (1972), Projecting (1975) and Celebration (1977). Prior to these recordings, much of Caliman's studio work consisted of side projects with other musicians. Caliman's albums were different. He wrote most of the songs, and his soloing abilities were punctuated. The first two albums are on vinyl only (and collector's items for hardcore jazz fans). The other albums were re-released on compact disc in 2003 by Catalyst Records.

In 1980, Caliman and his then-girlfriend moved to Washington State. They landed in the town of Cathlamet (his girlfriend had family there), located along the Lewis & Clark Trail. He spent some time looking for students to teach, but otherwise had very little success as a jazz musician. "If you want to lose your momentum as a jazz player," says Caliman, "move to a little country town like Cathlamet and teach. Nobody knows who you are."

Caliman was also performing at gigs in Portland. And he started looking to Seattle for work. He introduced himself to Julian Priester -an instructor at Cornish College of the Arts- who offered Caliman a substitute teaching position. That position later turned into a full-time teaching job. He retired in 2003.

"I really like the SRJO [Seattle Repertory Jazz Orchestra]," he says. "It's forcing me to read music again. And the camaraderie is good, too. I had seen them, but I didn't know them. I heard Jim Wilke playing one of our songs on the radio yesterday, and it sounded good. That sax section sounded good."

Now, he is most excited about the quintet he leads. The group entered the studio last fall, recording seven tracks, including: "That Old Black Magic," "Delilah," "Close Your Eyes," "Linda," "You Leave Me Breathless," and "Soul Train." Those tunes are performed regularly at the group's performances. The result is amazing. During a show at The Triple Door earlier this year, Caliman kicked the evening off with "Commencia" - a jumpy, fast-paced Latin tune that gave the audience a jolt. He also introduced the song "Linda" -a ballad (written for his wife) that floated and dipped in melodic beauty.

"Playing with Hadley is very physical," says the group's drummer Byron Vannoy. "He's from the old school of driving Bebop, and it's very physical stuff. It's a workout with him every time. The guy is seventy-two years old, and he will run you into the ground if you don't rise to his thing. He's a wonderful musician and a great person, and he's got a lot of life. There's a spirit in this certain generation of jazz musicians that, I hate to say it, I don't see it in a lot of generations younger than them."

"He is the sweetest person," adds Linda, Caliman's wife. "In all that he has been through in all of his life, he is untainted. It's a spirit. The spirit has remained intact. He's not been jaded or been cynical by all that he has seen."

Caliman really enjoys each performance. The magic that can happen between musicians is his goal. Rather than trying to control the musicians and their performances, Caliman is often standing in the corner between solos, clapping along with the audience when he hears what he likes. True, he is the star and headliner. But he also knows how to pick his musicians and concede the stage. And his quartet has a signature Caliman sound that speaks to experience, talent, and improvisational excellence.

One Saturday evening in January 2005, the Hadley Caliman Quartet was wrapping up its first set at Tula's restaurant and nightclub in downtown Seattle. Caliman had just led the group through a spirited set of Bebop standards. As Caliman exited the stage, Halberstadt grabbed a microphone. "Ladies and gentleman," he announced, "there is a saxophonist here tonight who is turning 72 years old." Halberstadt pointed to Caliman. A moment later, a waiter appeared from the club's kitchen carrying a large birthday cake marked with glowing candles.

Caliman was surprised by the gesture. The crowd applauded and cheered. The evening was remarkable for several reasons. At seventy-two years old, Caliman was hardly slowing down. The set would last well after midnight. The show would be followed by performances at the Seattle Art Museum in February, The Triple Door in March, more concerts at Tula's, and a series of performance dates that would send him back and forth between Seattle and San Francisco. Moreover, Caliman's responsibilities in the Seattle Repertory Jazz Orchestra (SRJO) recently expanded, particularly after the passing of Don Lanphere (a veteran of the early-1940s New York Bop scene) last fall. And Caliman had spent the later part of 2003 in the studio with his quartet, recording his first album as a leader after nearly two decades.

Several months later, speaking with Caliman near his home in Poulsbo, Washington, he was reflective. "I'm lucky," he explained. "Maybe God is answering my prayers now. I know that he does answer prayers for me. It's just been me. If I could have just gotten it right, it would have been cool. He was doing his job, I just kept screwing up and misjudging." Caliman paused. "I've still got a long ways to go. I want to play forever. That's the main business at hand."

With the help of Todd Matthews / Earshot Jazz Magazine June 2005

(bonjourqui.blogspot.de)

Perhaps the most fully realized of Pepper's own albums, "The Path" showcases all of his varied abilities, with the confident energy that was his personal bounty after several successful years on the European jazz circuit. A highlight among seven strong performances is the quietly beautiful duet arrangement of "Witchi Tai To" with Kirk Lightsey.

(by Jim Olding, www.inmotionmagazine.com)

Nach drei eigenwilligen schönen Platten bei einer kleinen Firma gerät der Krefelder Gruppe ihr Einstand beim Polygram-Konzern zur laschen Stil- Übung. Zwar setzen Akkordeon und Geige reiz- und stimmungsvolle Tupfer im kräftig rockenden Konzept - doch man muß die ersten drei oder vier Titel überstehen, um die Faszination wiederzuentdecken, die die Gruppe noch vor Jahresfrist zum Hoffnungsträger für die deutsche Szene machte. Auch der holprige teutonische Akzent des Sängers wirkt hier aufdringlich.

(© Audio)

Ihr Debüt machte sie zu Heroen der deutschen Independent-Szene, mit "Pluto", Album Nummer 2, avancierten sie zu Kiritkerlieblingen. Reicht's im dritten Anlauf, die famose Mini-LP "The Waltz" nicht mitgerechnet, gar in die Charts? Im Rücken die geballte Macht eines Branchenriesen, im Gepäck ein gelungenes Album mit elf feinen Songs - die Chancen stehen nicht schlecht für M. Walking On The Water. Der Vergleich bietet sich an: M. Walking On The Water - die deutschen Pogues? Wie die Rum-Rocker um die wandelnde Schnapsleiche Shane McGowan flirtet das Quintett unbefangen mit volksmusikalischen Elementen. Für einen derben Ländler ist da ebenso Platz wie für einen langsamen Walzer. Die Water-Boys befreien Akkordeon und Violinen aus den Klauen des tumben Teutonen-Tätärä und stellen sie mit größter Selbstverständlichkeit neben schroffe Gitarren. Dabei entstehen Kleinode wie das Kraftvolle "Fools Of Reality" oder "Caress Days", bei dem über flottem Baß/Schlagzeug-Fundament weiche Streicher für melancholische Obertöne sorgen. Unter der kantigen Oberfläche urwüchsiger Straßenmusik, die dem Punk erfolgreich entfloh, liegen reizvolle Details verborgen. Befremden muß allerdings erneut der Albumtitel, "Elysian". Die Band hat es doch nicht nötig, ihre Produktionen mit astronomischem oder philosophischem Schnickschnack zu versehen - die Musik ist verführerisch genug. Vollkommen zu Recht auch repräsentiert die Ruhrpott-Rasselbande im Auftrag des Goethe-Instituts deutsche Kultur in aller Welt: Authentischer als der krachlederne Kunst-Stoff aus dem Musikantenstadel sind die elysischen Klänge des Quintetts allemal. ** Klang.: 07-08

(© Stereoplay)

Albträume von Pflaumenbäumen

Folksongs, die alle Türen öffnen: White Hinterland heißt die neue Band von Casey Dienel, einer Dreiundzwanzigjährigen aus Massachusetts, die man schon mit Joni Mitchell und Björk verglichen hat.

Man sollte nicht den Fehler begehen, das Debütalbum von White Hinterland als harmlose Kostbarkeit abzutun. Die Cover-Zeichnung mit den großen Grashalmen und den putzigen Wölkchen wirkt zunächst wie eine unschuldige Kinderzeichnung. Erst auf den zweiten Blick zeigt sich, dass hier ein Zebra von einer Meute Hyänen in Stücke gerissen wird. Dieselbe Doppelbödigkeit besitzt auch die Musik. Was wie ein luftiger Bilderbogen in warmen Pastellfarben daherkommt, entpuppt sich alsbald als komplexe Versuchsanordnung gefährdeter Gefühle. Lieder zum Frieren, Lieder zum Wärmen, mal grün, mal grau – auch wenn das Hinterland weiß erscheint.

Betörender Sopran

White Hinterland heißt die neue Band von Casey Dienel. Schon die erste Platte der Dreiundzwanzigjährigen „The Wind-Up Canary“ ließ vor zwei Jahren aufhorchen. Schon damals glaubte man, die Sängerin flüstere einem ganz persönlich streng geheime Informationen zu. Es ist dieser betörende Sopran, der auch dem neuen Album den Ton vorgibt. Mal erinnert sein weiches Wispern an das zarte Rascheln von Blättern an einem uralten Baum, an das weiche Fallen von Blüten, dann wieder an flatternde Vogelstimmen, und plötzlich fühlt man sich in das Chorgestühl einer Kirche versetzt. Anstatt persönliche Texte zu schreiben – „Ich formuliere wenig über mich, autobiographische Geschichten erinnern mich an einen letzten Halt“ –, hält Casey Dienel die Wirklichkeit auf Distanz.

Bei allem Bilderreichtum macht sie sich die Dinge fremd. Da scheint der Tod eines Freundes in der Metapher eines gestrandeten Wals auf, der nur mehr als Hülle im Museum verbleibt. In dem Lied „Dreaming Of The Plum Tree“ dominiert dagegen hintergründiger Humor: Die Nachbarn im Obergeschoss testen ihre neuen Betten, während die Mitbewohnerin im Stockwerk darunter in den Geräuschen bereits das gewalttätige Ende der Beziehung erahnt.

Prominente Begleiter

War ihr Debütalbum noch eine sanfte Introspektion zu elegischer Piano-Begleitung, so eröffnet das neue Werk mit großer Gruppe – eine All-Star-Band aus Portland – ein weites musikalisches Feld: Glockenspiel, Gitarre, Melodika, Mellotron, Violinen, Bläser, Vibraphon, Cello – all diese Instrumente werden punktgenau eingesetzt, um atmosphärische Wechsel und Verdichtungen zu akzentuieren. Oft muss man sich erst durch mehrere Klangschichten hindurchhören, bis man Dienels tänzelnden Gesang inmitten des musikalischen Geschehens identifiziert.

Rachel Blumenberg, früher Mitglied der Decemberists, ist für die Perkussion verantwortlich, während der Singer/Songwriter Adam Selzer als Gitarrist auch die Produktion besorgte. Dienel wünschte sich von ihm ein Sound-Design, das „an eine quietschende Türangel“ erinnere. Doch trotz gelegentlicher, skrupulös eingestreuter Dissonanzen klingen die Songs, als ließen sich alle Türen und Fenster zur Außenwelt butterweich öffnen.

Musik zum Anfühlen

Man hat Casey Dienels Gesang mit der Phrasierungsartistik von Joanna Newsom, Björk oder Joni Mitchell verglichen. Auch musikalische Vorläufer wie John Cage oder Alice Coltrane kommen einem in den Sinn. Nicht zu Unrecht, und doch ist das nur die halbe Wahrheit. Denn Dienels Stimme bleibt bei allem unbeschwerten Glanz verschwiegen. Nicht selten hat man den Eindruck, sie würde sich in den harmonischen Nischen der üppigen Arrangements am liebsten verbergen. Die schimmernden Sätze klingen, als wolle sie diese im Moment ihrer Artikulation schon wieder zurücknehmen.

Mit vier Jahren bekam Casey Dienel zu Hause in Massachusetts ihren ersten Klavierunterricht, mit vierzehn schrieb sie erste Popsongs. Das Motto ihrer Band namens Helen Keller lautete noch ganz im Sinne eines sentimentalen Teenagers: „Musik zum Anfühlen“. Nach einem kurzen Studium am New England Conservatory in den Fächern Operngesang und Komposition begann sie eigene Lieder zu schreiben.

Anti-Kriegs-Songs

Insofern markiert das neue Album mit dem seltsamen Titel „Phylactery Factory“ den Übergang von einer Jugendlichen, die noch ihre eigene Tonlage sucht, zu einer Person, die plötzlich ihre geheimnisvolle Tiefe spürt. Zarte Anti-Kriegslieder stehen jetzt neben luxurierenden Balladen. „Napoleon At Waterloo“ beginnt mit einer fließenden Melodie, die sich durch hohes Gras zu schlängeln scheint, bevor sie in Fahrt kommt und den Hörer in einem rhythmischen Crescendo mitreißt. „Hometown Hooray“ im Stil eines verträumten Jazz-Walzers ist eine bittere Reverenz an die im Irak kämpfenden amerikanischen Truppen: „Die ganze Stadt wird eine Parade veranstalten, wenn du zurückkehrst. Denn keiner hier mag glauben, dass du umsonst gestorben bist.“

Der Begriff „Phylactery“ meint übrigens eine kleine Schachtel, in der sich vier Gebetszettel befinden. Orthodoxe Juden tragen sie wie ein Amulett, um sich an die Einhaltung der religiösen Gesetze zu erinnern. Doch das Ganze hat mit dem Zauber des Albums nicht das Geringste zu tun. Ob Wiegenlied oder Serenade, ob Tod, Zerstörung oder hoffnungsfrohe Chancen – ein schwereloses Gefühl der Improvisation zieht durch die Lieder. Jazzanklänge, Swing-Momente und Boogie-Woogie-Ahnungen mischen sich mit Reminszenzen an Klassik und Folkrock.

Man glaubt Casey Dienel aufs Wort, wenn sie ihren Vater als Pop-Liebhaber schildert, der in einem Streit schon mal mit Zitaten aus Jackson-Brown- oder David-Crosby-Songs argumentiert. Auch ihre Songs haben bei aller „Highbrow“-Ästhetik das Zeug zur Gebrauchslyrik: „Ich sehe die Dinge nie schwarzweiß – auch Serienmörder haben beispielsweise Vater und Mutter. Das Leben gleicht eben nicht einem Stück Kuchen, das man sich mal eben nehmen könnte.“

(Von Peter Kemper, FAZ, 24.03.2008)

It snowed, yesterday. It snowed just a little bit. A few snowflakes fell and wafted around the city like songbirds, finally landing on our shoulders. (We grinned at them.) In the earliest days of winter there's nothing scary about snow. The cold's like a long-absent friend, the frost's like icing, the early dusks just mean that we go out for drinks a little earlier. And it's here that Phylactery Factory situates itself: here between freeze and frozen, between green and grey, just as the countryside's turnin...

This 1975 release on Mercury has Randy California and Ed Cassidy's names imprinted boldly on the cover as Spirit, and the 26 songs -- starting with "America the Beautiful/The Times They Are a Changin'" and concluding with "The Star Spangled Banner" -- are more than just a sly tribute to the bicentennial. They are the most fluid and satisfying statement by the California/Cassidy version of the band, who would be together for another 20 years before California's untimely passing. As ethereal and icy as Feedback, the album Cassidy recorded with the Stahely brothers, there are all sorts of hidden meanings projected throughout this double-vinyl LP. Randy California gives more than a few nods to his work with Jimi Hendrix -- covers of "Like a Rolling Stone" and "Hey Joe" are two of Hendrix's more notable and triumphant revisions -- while "The Star Spangled Banner" has a smart vocal, separating it from California's more famous ex-bandmate's Woodstock instrumental rendition.

This double-record set was the first of four albums by Spirit for the Mercury label in the mid-'70s, all released between 1975-1977. This is the second album Ed Cassidy and Randy California put together after Cassidy recorded the Feedback disc in 1972 for Epic. The 1973 album came out in 1981 as Potatoland on Line Records in Germany and is not usually put in proper chronological order. What is musically interesting about this is that Randy California on Spirit of '76 sounds like the 1972 Stahely brothers version of Spirit. No, the jazz is not here, but his use of acoustic guitar and effects on his electric guitar makes for less bite and more soothing, spacy sounds. It is arguably the best full album the Randy California/Ed Cassidy Spirit recorded without the other original members. A terrific anthem, "One by One," was recorded in 1993-1994 and might be the duo's best song, but this album remains a major achievement for Randy California, a long and elaborate vision put over four sides of vinyl. The tragedy is that no hit single obtained airplay that could have given this project wider exposure. There are more covers than usual too, and unique arrangements -- the pair's understanding of "Happy," for example. It is interesting that producer Jimmy Miller played the drums and recorded the Rolling Stones' version of "Happy" with Keith Richards, with their Exile on Main St. demo track becoming a hit. Drummer Ed Cassidy takes Miller's role, with Randy California being Richards, and they do a nice, mutated version still faithful to the spirit of the original Keith Richards jam with his producer. The depth and intrigue built into the grooves and packaging of Spirit of '76 was a fine direction for this Spirit, and it is too bad Randy California felt so bitter about the industry to lose focus. As Jimi Hendrix kept the recorders rolling, California should have done the same thing over the years, capturing his live magic, seeking out that audience the Grateful Dead tuned into. Spirit of '76 is the best example of California veering off into different directions and coming up with satisfying sounds. Two albums later, Mark Andes would bring his brother, Matt Andes, from Jo Jo Gunne into the fold and re-form with Cassidy, California, and John Lockefor 1976's Farther Along. But that would be a short-lived fusion of multiple songwriting talents. On Spirit of '76, Randy California has all systems go to paint spacy pictures like "Urantia," or the very interesting take on Rufus Thomas' "Walking the Dog." The covers of three of the songs Hendrix covered would remain in the Spirit set for the rest of their days, and they are here in elegant studio versions. Spirit of '76 remains the key to understanding the group who toured as Spirit for the better part of the three decades that the group existed, the stepdad and the guitar prodigy on their own. It's an offbeat work of art that works just beautifully.

(by Joe Viglione, All Music Guide)

Julie Driscoll's (now Tippetts) first move away from the blues-oriented pop of the Brian Auger band turned out to be this prophetic slab of wax that revealed her penchant to transcend the trappings of rock and pop for something more adventurous. To this end, Driscoll employed the help of many of the Canterbury scene's best-known musicians, including Carl Jenkins, Elton Dean, future husband Keith Tippetts, and guitarist Chris Spedding. The set opens with what would become an anthem for Driscoll, the horn-laden rocker "A New Awakening," in which she details the benefits of the search for new ground emotionally and mentally. In addition, with its knotty, arpeggio-laden horn lines and angular arrangement by Tippetts that puts the track on the left side of the standard rock and pop fence. "Those That We Love," a simple acoustic tune with Driscoll on acoustic guitar and Tippetts on piano and celeste with Jeff Clyne on bass is a striking treatise on how much we hurt the ones we love the most, and how those who love us forget us most. Beautifully textured vocal lines open up all over the body of the tune, soaring into darkened corners and illuminating them. One of the most striking things about this slab is how the listener can hear Driscoll's voice begin to open up to the possibilities of life after pop, that there was an entire universe waiting to be explored in song, nuance, and technique. The band provides not only sympathetic, but inspired support in her stead. Other notables here include the guitar freakout orgy of "Break-Out," the chamber/salon song of "The Choice," and the jazzed out balladry (in Canterbury style) of "Leaving It All Behind." Despite its age, 1969 holds up shockingly well, and is still very forward thinking in its musical approaches. Driscoll's/Tippetts' rugged, open-heart emotionalism is truly transcendent here, and this aspect of her wonderful voice has aged not one bit in over 30 years.

(by Thom Jurek, All Music Guide)

From the opening moments of Season of Lights, as the band slides smoothly into "Money" from Laura Nyro's then-current album, Smile, you know that this record was cut at the perfect moment in Nyro's career -- her performance combines the understated sense of release of someone who is back from a long sabbatical (in this case, five years away from recording or performing), and the cool, smooth professionalism of a natural performer who has found a perfect accompaniment, in this case mixing elements of pop and light jazz. She gave listeners fresh reconsiderations of ten-year-old works like "And When I Die," which she does in a slow, lyrical, yet slightly funky manner, as though neither she nor any of her audience had ever heard of Blood, Sweat & Tears -- talk about reclaiming a song for herself, once one hears this rendition it's difficult to take David Clayton-Thomas' performance of it seriously ever again -- and "The Confession." "Upstairs by a Chinese Lamp" becomes the vehicle for Nyro's introduction of the band, before she begins stretching her upper range, accompanied by Jeanie Fineberg's flute, John Tropea's guitar, and Michael Mainieri's vibraphone. "When I Was a Freeport (And You Were the Main Drag)" is the kind of song that, ideally, should only ever have been presented live, showing off Nyro at her most gently beguiling and accessible, teasing the audience with the play of her words and her voice, an approach that she emulates on "Captain St. Lucifer." The original ten songs from the original LP were a decent representation of where Nyro was at the time, though one can bet that if Clive Davis had still been president of Columbia Records, Season of Lights would have been the double LP that was intended. [In 1995, Sony Music of Japan issued an expanded edition, and complete versions of the concert appeared in the 2000s.]

(by Bruce Eder, All Music Guide)

When the BoDeans appeared with their first album, Love & Hope & Sex & Dreams, in 1986, they immediately were filed under "roots rock" (a popular term of the day) because of the Western twang in their guitars, their bouncy beat, and their simple, neo-rockabilly approach to songwriting, not to mention the production of T-Bone Burnett. They led off the album with "She's a Runaway," a song of spousal abuse and revenge that indicated a higher social consciousness than much of the rest of the album, which was typified by "Misery," in which the singer laments that his girlfriend sleeps around. At their best, on "She's a Runaway," "Fadeaway," and "Angels," the BoDeans came up with infectious riffs and made maximum use of the sweet-and-sour vocal interaction between the conventional voice of Kurt Neumann and Sammy Llanas' distinctive nasal whine. Much of the album was slight, but there was enough of an individual sound to the better material to think of the BoDeans as a band of considerable promise.

(by William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide)

Steel Pulse's debut album set the band decisively apart from its British colleagues. This was not, by any stretch of the imagination, either pop-reggae or lovers rock. Nor was it the kind of dreamy Rasta reggae or art-for-art's sake dub that was popular at the time. Though the subtly jazzy swing that would later become explicit was already informing Steel Pulse's groove, the band's first album seemed not at all interested in generating anything like a party atmosphere. Handsworth Revolution is about politics first and religion second, with a quick nod to the dance ("Sound System") and another to the herb ("Macka Splaff") and not a single love lyric to be found anywhere. This gives the music a certain intellectual urgency, and the band's instrumental virtuosity is impressive given its youth and relatively inexperience. But it also makes for a rather dry listening experience; other than "Ku Klux Klan" and the gorgeous "Prodigal Son," there's not much to hold onto here, melodically speaking -- and even those two songs sound dry in comparison to the band's subsequent work. Still, there's a solidity to these tunes, a sheer tensile strength, that makes them compelling in their own Spartan way. Recommended.

(by Rick Anderson, All Music Guide)

I'd forgotten just how good this album is! A blast from the past, Handsworth Revolution resurrects the spirit of the time; Rock Against Racism marches, Anti Nazi League protests all rounded up with a party of punks, dreads and like minded people in unison! Enough nostalgia, Steel Pulse's Handsworth Revolution has stood the test of time; smooth vocals over original dub bass representing the struggle of that era all contribute to an album which should be hailed as a reggae classic.

Sie emanzipieren sich. 1988 erschien ihr Debütalbum, sicherte den Jeremy Days einen Einstand nach Maß - und erinnerte in vielen Songs doch stark an andere Rocksounds britischer Machart. Das hat sich 1990 ziemlich gelegt: Die fünf Hamburger bedienen sich zwar kräftig aus dem Stil-Fundus der internationalen Pop- und Rockszene. Das Ergebnis aber klingt unverwechselbarer als noch vor zwei Jahren. Die Hansestädter sind auf dem richtigen trickreich arrangierten Weg. Und auch der Erfolg müßte ihnen recht geben.

(© Audio)

Welch ein Gigant! Gäbe es eine intakte Jazzszene in Deutschland, Heinz Sauer wäre ihr unbestrittener Star. Denn der eher mittellose Frankfurter Tenorsaxophonist, der hier mit Bob Degen, Günter Lenz und Thomas Cremer im halligen "Jazzkeller" spielt, erreicht zwar kaum die Virtuosität von John Coltrane, doch sein weitherziges Vibrato und seine Improvisationen scheinen aus derselben unversiegbaren Quelle zu strömen. Und das macht diese Aufnahme mit Coltrane-Klassikern wie "Lush Life" und "Greensleeves" zu einer Sternstunde des deutschen Jazz.

(© Stereoplay)

This little-known Hollies spinoff project only lasted for one year and produced just one album, produced by Tony Hicks and featuring a cover of "Delaware Taggett and The Outlaw Boys", but it is an item of interest to anoraks and collectors of British rock of the 1970s, as it boasts a whole host of names recognisable to those familiar with the session scene of that time period. For starters, keyboardist/vocalist Peter Arnesen (If, Ian Hunter, Rubettes, Daddy Longlegs, Hollies) and Colin Horton-Jennings (Greatest Show On Earth) were members of this band, Peter Wingfield (Olympic Runners, Hollies, Elton John, Chris Farlowe, Colin Blunstone, Elkie Brooks, Maggie Bell, Buddy Guy, Roger Chapman, Lonnie Donegan, Keef Hartley Band, BB King, Freddie King, Level 42, Nazareth, Gerry Rafferty, Al Stewart, Streetwalkers, Chris Youlden, Richard Thompson, etc.) also contributed keyboards to the project, and Alan Parsons is listed on the album's back cover amongst the engineers involved with it./p>

Musically, it's an amalgamation of mid-70s post-glam British pop and sophisticated pre-punk era rock, which sounds as fresh and effervescent today as it did 25 years ago: maybe Heavy Metal Kids meets Roxy Music meets Hello...

(Alex Gitlin, January 2000)

Trombonist Jimmy Knepper is well featured on this out of print LP from the defunct Black Hawk label, both as a highly original trombonist and as a composer. The six originals (all his) range from tunes based on standards to the more memorable "Distress Dismay," "Fallen Crest" (dedicated to the recently deceased Charles Mingus) and "Idol of the Flies." Knepper is greatly assisted by guitarist Bruce Forman, bassist Mike Richmond, and drummer Billy Hart throughout the stimulating, if obscure effort.

(by Scott Yanow, All Music Guide)

Suchen Sie nach einem Album, das Ihnen nach einem langen Arbeitstag Entspannung und Freude bereitet? Dann sollten Sie sich ernsthaft mit dieser Aufnahme auseinandersetzen, denn sie birgt alle Qualitäten, die man von einem mit echten Koryphäen des Musikgeschäfts besetzten Werk erwarten kann. Der Flügelhornist Art Farmer und der Gitarrist Jim Hall bilden den Kopf eines ungewöhnlich besetzten Quintetts, bestehend aus dem Ausnahmeschlagzeuger Steve Gadd, dem Vibraphonisten Mike Mainieri und Michael Moore am Bass. Farmer und Hall sind auf der im Jahr 1978 entstandenen Aufnahme erstmals wieder vereint, seit sie zwischen 1962 und 1964 dauerhaft in einem Quartett spielten. Art Farmer zählt zu den Wegbereitern des Flügelhorns; maßgeblich war er für die Popularität dieses Instruments im Jazz verantwortlich. Einen ähnlichen Status genießt Jim Hall, dessen Gitarrenspiel vielen Musikern, selbst denen, die einen gänzlich anderen Stil pflegen, als Vorbild dient. Die aus vier Stücken bestehende Session verbreitet mit dem warmen Ton des Flügelhorns, verbunden mit dem ungemein präsenten Vibraphon eine extrem entspannte Atmosphäre. Die Gitarre ist das verbindende Element und leitet zu den jeweiligen Soli über.

Insbesondere die Jazzadaption des Klassikers von Maurice Ravel, „Pavane For A Dead Princess“, hat einen wunderbaren, unwiderstehlichen „Flow“ und bildet mit einer Länge von mehr als zehn Minuten das Finale einer Aufnahme, die selbst den höchsten Blutdruck zu senken vermag. Die soundtechnisch überarbeitete Neuauflage klingt, als wäre sie erst kürzlich eingespielt worden.

Fazit

Diese Platte sollte bei chronischer Nervosität ärztlich verordnet werden!

(www.hifitest.de)

Flugelhornist Art Farmer and guitarist Jim Hall had had a regular group for a time in the mid-'60s but (except for one occasion) had not played together since, until this 1978 LP. This is an unusual effort for CTI in that it is a quintet set without added horns, strings or keyboards. Farmer and Hall are joined by vibraphonist Mike Mainieri, bassist Michael Moore and drummer Steve Gadd for two standards, the title cut and a jazz adaptation of a piece by Ravel. Since Farmer and Hall have long had very complementary styles (both being lyrical, harmonically advanced and thoughtful in their improvisations), it is little surprise that this set is a complete success. Pity that all of Farmer's CTI dates are out of print.

(by Scott Yanow, All Music Guide)

This was one of Flora Purim's finest all-around jazz recordings, and it is luckily available on CD. Purim is featured in a variety of challenging and stimulating settings: on two numbers ("Above the Rainbow" and "Tomara") with pianist McCoy Tyner; teamed up with tenor saxophonist Joe Henderson on Chick Corea's "Windows" and "Black Narcissus"; and utilizing such players as bass trombonist Raul DeSouza, keyboardists Hermeto Pascoal and George Duke, and singer Urszula Dudziak (who is heard on "Encounter") plus Flora's husband, percussionist Airto. The music is primarily group originals and finds Flora Purim in peak form. Highly recommended.

(by Scott Yanow, All Music Guide)

With both early EPs and the M/A/R/R/S smash success behind them, A.R. Kane found themselves more than ready to go ahead with a full album in 1988, and did so wonderfully. It's safe to say that the start of the opening track alone, "Crazy Blue," resembles little else recorded that year or any other one -- a few plucked guitar notes, a sudden jazzy scat-vamp by singer Rudi with his truly unique voice, then a more direct poppish strum, the woozy line, "Ooooh...everything's gone crazy now," followed by a series of intense reverbed chime sounds and bongo-like percussion. From there on in, things take a turn for the strangely captivating in song after song. Never simply poppy nor completely arty, and definitely not just the Jesus and Mary Chain/Cocteau Twins fusion most claimed they were (admittedly song titles like "Spermwhale Trip Over" and "Baby Milk Snatcher" easily led to the description!), A.R. Kane here feels playful, mysterious, and inventive all at once, impossible to truly pin down. The best one-two punch on the record comes from "Sulliday," with buried, measured percussion and evocative drones, and "Dizzy," featuring a mesmerizing call-and-response by Rudi with himself, veering between more gentle, direct vocals and echoed shouts, eerily foretelling much of what Tricky would similarly do years later. An unfairly long-lost classic.

(by Ned Raggett, All Music Guide)

The Apartments' debut album The Evening Visits ... And Stays for Years is a gorgeous collection of folky jangle-pop spiked with country-rock and horn-laced pop. Frequently, the collection sounds under produced, but the songs themselves confirm that Peter Walsh, the brains behind the Apartments, is a graceful songwriter, capable of lovely melodies and affecting lyrics.

(by Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide)

Short-Distance-Psycho-Folk - das ist die selbstgewählte Nische der Krefelder Gruppe, die melodienverliebt und verschmitzt die Grenzen zwischen Walzer und Punk aufhebt, Akkordeon, Musikbaß und Heavy-Metal- Gitarre einträchtig nebeneinander existieren läßt: Die quirlige Kollektion aus elf Songs ist ein unkonventionelles Plädoyer für das reine Vergnügen an der Musik.

(© Audio)

Sie wandeln stilsicher über die Pop-Gewässer: M. Walking On The Water legen mit ihrem zweiten Album ein außergewöhnlich vielschichtiges Werk vor. Markus Maria Jansen, Mike Pelzer, Ulrich Kisters und Jürgen Jähnke behaupten sich nicht nur im Kielwasser britischer Gitarrenbands ("Love"), sondern liegen auch mit der fast schon klassischen Ballade "Day To Day" oder dem akkoreonverzierten "Anymore" gut im Wind. Und Sinn für Astrologie haben die Ruhrpott-Rocker obendrein: Das atmosphärische Titelstück widmeten sie dem Planeten Pluto, der 248 Jahre benötigt, um die Sonne zu umkreisen. Solange kann's bis zum Durchbruch von M. Walking On The Water kaum dauern. ** Interpret.: 06-09 ** Klang.: 07-08

(© Stereoplay)

„Wie Beck.' Eines von den vielen Individuen, die unter diesem Vergleich wegen prinzipiell vergleichbarer Arbeitsweise (durchaus nicht unmaßgeblich im Studio mitgestaltetes Liedersingen) zu leiden nicht verdient haben, aber häufig müssen, ist Pat MacDonald, der in den späten 80ern mit seiner jetzigen Ex-Frau das Projekt Timbuk3 betrieb („The Futur’s So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades') und schon damals wenig Hemmungen zeigte, im Kern traditionelles Folk/Rock-Songwriting mit studiotechnischen Mitteln zu modernistischen Langspielplatten zu kontrastieren. Nach seinem ersten, höchst respektablen, pur(istisch)en Soloalbum, „Pat MacDonald Sleeps With His Guitar' - das genau das war: der Mann und seine Klampfe -, geht er unter der besonnenen und einfühlsamen Ägide des P.J. Harvey-Producers John Parish wieder den „gemischten' Weg, um zu einem völlig anderen Ergebnis zu kommen. Ausfransend, ein loses, oft minimalistisches und immer homogenes funktional funktionierendes Geflecht, aus dem z. B. ein sachtes Boogie-Riff von der Akustikgitarre durch Beigabe von indischen Tablas in die äußeren Ränder nahöstlicher Traditionen verbracht werden kann, ohne verkorkster Weltmusikalistik auch nur nahezukommen. „Begging Her Graces' spricht von Hin- und Selbstaufgabe a.k.a. Liebe, von einem „Little Dark Angel', von „to die in your arms tonight' und davon, notwendigenfalls selbst Gott zu werden und das Universum neu zu erschaffen, „just to talk to you', von zerstörenden Kräften, von Flucht vor einer geliebten Frau, die ihr Leben am Grunde einer „Whiskey Bottle' verbringt, und von anderen „Jaws Of Life'. Pat, fühlbar, hat einiges gesehen von den Schmutzigkeiten des westlichen Lebens und versteht, den Schmerz darüber ebenso unaufdringlich weiterzugeben wie den zweiten einzigen Ausweg: Hoffnung.

(www.intro.de)

Begging Her Graces ist das zweite Soloalbum eines der talentiertesten Songwriter des zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts. PAT MACDONALD, der 1984 mit der Folk-Roots-Technoband Timbuk3 und einem Top-20-Hit "The Future´s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades" in die Musikszene startete, hat sich erneut weiterentwickelt. Nach seinem Solodebut "Sleeps With His Guitar" und einer Europatournee mit Chris Whitley traf er auf John Parish, den Produzenten und Mastermind von P.J. Harvey, der unter anderem ihr letztes Album "To Give You My Love" produzierte und in seine bestimmte Richtung lenkte. Pat und John trafen sich in Barcelona und begannen zu probieren und zu arrangieren, und Parish entwickelte sich zu einer Art "Partner In Crime", spielte immer mehr Instrumente und trug zu der wesentlich moderner colorierten Gesamtfarbe dieses außergewöhnlichen Albums bei. Von dem fast rüden Opener "Whiskey Bottle" über die erste Single "Just To Talk To You" bis zu intimen, bis aufs Letzte reduzierten Titeln wie "Tyrany Of Beauty" bietet dieses Album eine Reise durch die Gefühlswelt. Dieses wurde produktionstechnisch auf höchstmöglicher Ebene eingefangen. Einen der Höhepunkte bietet das hypnotische "The Jaws Of Life", unterstützt durch zwei der wichtigsten, traditionellen spanischen Musiker an Tablas und Percussion, live in einem Take eingespielt. Dieses Album öffnet Pat MacDonald die Tür zum Mainstream, ohne an Kraft und Seele einzubüßen.

(www.ulftone.com)

Guitarist Mel Brown is hailed as "An Impulse! Discovery" on Chicken Fat, his debut for the label, and this album does feature a fantastic unique sound. Brown played in the bands of T-Bone Walker and John Lee Hooker, and has an aggressive (though not harsh) single-string picking style. For this date he is paired with either Herb Ellis or Arthur Wright on guitar, Gerald Wiggins on organ, and Brown's regular rhythm section of Paul Humphrey on drums and Ronald Brown on electric bass. There are a couple tracks that are played as pretty straight blues, but this is a hoppin' soul-jazz date. The tunes are bouncy and funky, and Brown's playing is a real treat. His bluesy, almost reckless soloing gives a vastly different flavor that the playing of guys like Grant Green or Melvin Sparks. Gerald Wiggins' organ playing is cool and swinging, and the electric bass of Ronald Brown makes this album about as funky as Impulse ever got. Both Herb Ellis and Arthur Wright get some solo space as well, with Ellis sounding quite interesting playing an unamplified 12-string on a couple cuts. Brown gets some nice tones as well, and on "Hobo Flats" plays "an electronic guitar with Wah-Wah distortion" (remember, this is 1967 jazz) "that gives a weird shimmering sound," according to the liner notes. Leave it to Impulse! to put a new spin on the guitar/organ sound. This is hot stuff.

(by Sean Westergaard, All Music Guide)

This group and their one and only album were once considered so hot, what with Nicky Hopkins, Alun Davies, and Jon Mark in the lineup, that a reissue in 1971 rated a full-page ad from the source label in Rolling Stone. In fact, it's a pleasant, well-played midtempo piece of late-1960s rock, with elements of British blues ("Side of the Road"), psychedelic harpsichords and flute ("Cobwebs"), and R&B, mid-1960s U.K. style. Alun Davies and Jon Mark are more than good enough guitar players and singers, but there nothing terribly special here in the way of songwriting. "Cobwebs" is the kind of amorphous, spacy brand of psychedelia that Donovan used to fill out his albums with, but with a bit more drive; "Dealer" is vaguely blues-ish rock driven by pseudo-profound lyrics. Jon Mark's "Rescue Me" is one of the better numbers here, dominated by Hopkins' organ playing and driven by a great beat, and carried by his attempts at a white soul vocal performance; it's no surprise for the neophyte to learn that all of these guys played with outfits like Zoot Money's Big Roll Band and the Cyril Davies All-Stars. And then there's "Gilbert Street," which shows some finesse and a robust vocal performance, and sustains interest for five minutes plus; this number must have been something to hear in concert, and a whole album like it would have lived up to a reputation stretching across the decades. It's also easy to see why this record never caught on at the time -- there isn't a real single here, or any memorable tunes, except for "Gilbert Street" -- and why it became a kind of FM standard among deejays seeking to annoy the hell out of listeners who couldn't get the record.

(by Bruce Eder, All Music Guide)

Gibt es eine typische Steve Wynn Platte? Sicher nicht. Dieses dürfte allerdings eine eher untypische Platte sein, geprägt vom slowenischen Soundlabor des Produzenten Chris Eckman. Irgendwo zwischen Midnight Choir’s Amsterdam Stranded und der letzten Terry Lee Halle Aufnahme liegt dieses Werk, das den Wynn-Kenner zum Umdenken zwingt. Ein Songzyklus über das die grundsätzlichen Fragen des Lebens ist es geworden, der Stück für Stück von Chris und Steve zusammengesetzt wurde. Die Tunes wurden erst Solo eingespielt, dann fügten beide nach und nach Instrumente hinzu, Chris sorgte für die atmosphärischen Soundlandschaften, engagierte das Apollon Chamber Orchestra aus Prag und die Carnice Vocal Group. Die letzten Beiträge kamen von Chris Cacavaes, Nick Luca, Tim Adams und Kirk Swan. Sound-Alchemist Tucker Martine mixte das Werk schließlich in seinem Studio in Seattle.

Crossing Dragon Bridge ist ein Schritt nach rechts und einer voran, ein bezwingender Mix aus behutsamen Alternativ-Pop, opulenten Arrangements, Singer/Songwriter-Songs mit vorsichtig eingeflochtener, analog klingender Elektronika, viel Atmosphäre und natürlich richtig guten Songs. Ganz sicher wird Steve Wynn wieder eine richtig-satte Dream Syndicate-Gedächtnisplatte machen, aber es ist faszinierend, auch die andere Seite seiner Kunst zu erleben. Das Werk kommt zudem im aufwändigen Digipak.

(rh, Glitterhouse)

"Lässiger Folkrock, psychedelisch schillernd und mit reichlich Pop-Appeal, vom begnadeten Songschreiber aus Kalifornien." (Musikexpress. 4 1/2 Sterne)

According to his liner notes, when Steve Wynn went to Ljubljana, Slovenia to make a record with producer Chris Eckman (songwriter, guitarist, and founder of the Walkabouts who also does work for Slovenian television) at the latter's studio, he never expected to be told he had to do everything himself. Wynn had some songs for this collaboration, but others were written on the spot and he played virtually everything on the set, from guitar, bass, and keyboards to vocals and backing vocals. Apparently Eckman played a bit but was very hesitant to do so. In three weeks, after spending plenty of time observing life there in Ljubljana, forgetting his life in New York for a bit, and generally being a stranger in a strange land, he came up with a collection of 13 songs that talked about everything he felt there to be sure, but more than this, he'd come up with an astonishing collection of very diverse tunes that were different than anything he'd ever written or recorded before. After Wynn finished his sessions, Eckman added a local women's choir, a chamber orchestra from Prague. Later he added overdubbed sessions by Chris Cacavas, Linda Pitmon, Kirk Swan, and the Teenage Prayers' Tim Adams, in the United States and Germany. Tucker Martine mixed the entire album in Seattle. The end result is Crossing Dragon Bridge, an album that mixes lushly orchestrated outsider pop (the title track and the nearly Brechtian "Wait Until You Get to Know Me"); mutant Americana ("She Came," and "Annie and Me"); beautifully textured garagey psychedelia ("Love Me Anyway" and "God Doesn't Like It"); darkly colored Baroque rock ("Bring the Magic" and "I Don't Need This"), and hauntingly beautiful singer/songwriter fare ("Punching Holes in the Sky"). In other words, this is a dazzling array of material, but all of it is perfectly suited to Wynn as both a songwriter and as a singer. Lyrically it's the most sophisticated thing he's ever recorded, head and shoulders above the standard fare from his peers and by many new kids on the block as well (no pun intended). He's set himself a new high-water mark to be sure. Ultimately, it's a songwriter's album but one that is full of surprise, delight, and a sense of poetry that is wiry, tough, and tender. By turns epic and intimate, literate, witty and poetic, this is Wynn's masterpiece

(by Thom Jurek, All Music Guide)

An dieser Stelle ist eine Geschichte zu erzählen, wie sie einerseits typisch ist für die Musikindustrie und jedes Jahr rund um die Welt ein paar tausend mal passiert, die andererseits aber auch wieder ganz untypische und tragische Momente in sich birgt. Typisch an der Geschichte ist nur das: eine junge Band macht sich auf, mit ihrer Musik die Welt zu erobern, findet ein Independent Label - in diesem Falle DAY-GLO Records -, kommt ein gutes Stück voran, erntet brilliante Kritiken, weckt dadurch das Interesse von Major Companies, bekommt dann doch keinen Deal und gibt schließlich auf.

Untypisch an der Geschichte ist, daß die Band - obwohl sie in den drei Jahren ihres Lebens nur ein paar tausend Alben verkauft hat - dennoch eine Wirkung in der deutschen Poplandschaft hinterlassen hat, von der andere, wesentlich erfolgreichere Bands nur träumen können.

Tobias Kuhn, Sänger der allseits hochgelobten Band MILES. "B'Shops ist wohl die entscheidende Inititialband in unserer Bandgeschichte. Es gab keine Band zu dieser Zeit, die eine solche Musik mit solcher Konsequenz gemacht haben wie die. Wir waren fasziniert, als sie in Würzburg ein Benefiz-Konzert für DT64 im Bechtelsheimer Hof - dort, wo wir 1992 als junge Band probten - gaben. Die waren laut, schön und schwer bekifft."

Tobias Kuhn bringt die Wirkung der B'Shops auf die Entwicklung von Miles mit dem Wort "Intitialzündung" auf den Punkt. Tom, Autor eines Artikel über Miles in "Persona Non Grata", ergänzt: "Bewußt wird den B'Shoppern, deren drittes (Tobias nennt es ihr bestes Album) nie erschien, nicht sein, WAS sie mit ihrer Anwesenheit in den frühen 90ern ausgelöst haben. Neben jungen Gymnasiasten- Combos, die fortan ihr Heil in der treibenden, poppigen Flucht nach vorn suchten, würde ich selbst nie abstreiten können, daß mit deren Existenz mein Glauben an die unendlich ästhetisch zusammen geschusterten Riffs diesseits des Urals aufkeimte. An ihrem Beispiel entwickelte sich das Bewußtsein, daß auch in dem noch so verschissensten Kaff eine handvoll Leute existiert, die genau unsere Sprache spricht."

Heute, acht bzw neun Jahre später, hört man aus den beiden B'Shops-Alben immer noch das heraus, was Roland Galenza damals "traumatischen Pop" genannt - "irgendwo zwischen blendendem Geflacker und wohlig-groteskem Taumel". "Grass", das Debut-Album von 1990, hat nichts an seiner Dringlichkeit verloren. Es klingt heute vielleicht noch größer, noch bedeutender als damals, weil heute niemand mehr in der Lage ist, mit einer solchen Radikalität düstere Stimmungen von Einsamkeit und Verlassenheit mit wild-romantischen Melodien zu verbinden. Aus den Abgründen der Seele schufen die B'Shops eine Universum von purer Schönheit, aufregend und kompromißlos, getrieben von der oft brüchig dahinflatternden Stimme von Markus "Mao" Kohler, auf die absoluten Höhen von Pop gehoben durch Moni Kober's Backing Vocals, und in die Tiefen der Melancholie versenkt durch das Cello, das Moni Kober in den Klang der Platte einführt, als hätte das Cello schon immer zum Rock'n'Roll gehört.

"Churches Chips and Emrys", das zweite Album der B'Shops aus dem Jahre 1991, geht noch einen Schritt weiter. Immer blitzen da die Momente purem Pop-Glanzes auf in Songs wie "Follow the Sun" oder "Rubi Peru". Aber die Extreme sind diesmal weiter gesteckt, die Augenblicke reiner Melancholie stärker ausgeprägt. Die jugendliche Überschwang des ersten Albums beginnt zu zerbröseln und sich in Momenten von extremen Verlorenheit aufzulösen, die hier und da an die besten Zeiten von Lou Reed erinnern. "Churches" ist ein großes, sperriges Album geblieben, das der Beginn eines neuen Anlaufs hätte werden können, der Beginn einer Neudefinition von Schönheit und Tiefe in der Popmusik. Nundenn, es hat nicht sollen sein. "Churches Chips and Emrys" ist ein Versuch geblieben, der letzte der B'Shops. Right place wrong time.

"Die Band, deren Vinylversion von 'Grass' (1990) in meiner Sammlung neben meiner Lieblings-Beatles ('Rarities') steht, behauptet wohl auch die tragischste Rolle, die je eine Band spielen kann: das Dilemma des falschen Zeitpunktes und der fehlenden Infrastruktur, gepaart mit dem Bewußtsein, daß sie irgendwie die Initialzündung für diese Infrastruktur und die passenden Zeitpunkte schuf. Bevor sie das noch erlebte, gab es sie nicht mehr." (Tom in Visions)

Und dann war da noch: der großes Interesse zeigende, schließlich aber doch abwinkende A&R-Manager einer Major Company, die ihren Sitz damals in einer alten Kölner Villa hatte und später nach Hamburg zurückbeordert wurde. Und dann war da auch noch: der ehemalige Manager von Terence Trent d'Arby, der den B'Shops eine große internationale Karriere prophezeite und, nachdem er von aus London nach München umgezogen war, nichts mehr von sich hören ließ, als er erfuhr, daß die vollständigen Verlagsrechte für B'Shops-Songs nicht zu bekommen waren.

(day-glo.de)

Wieder einmal durfte man im Benrather "Spektakulum" das Gefühl haben, eine junge Band kurz vor ihrem Durchbruch zu erleben. Zwar ließen optischer Eindruck und Umfeld eher darauf schließen, daß hier eine Schülerband vor ihrem Debut stand, aber sobald das Ensemble losspielte, fühlte man sich an Profi-Bands aus Manchaster oder New York erinnert.

Die B'SHOPS stammen aus Kronach, der Pforte zum Frankenwald, doch ihre Kompositionen klingen, als hätten sie die anglophile Pop-Ästhetik bereits in frühester Kindheit gelöffelt. Eindrucksvoll schrammeln sie los und wissen besonders durch halbakustische Balladen zu gefallen. Die besondere Note verleiht der Band die klassisch ausgebildete Moni Kober, die den psychedelischen Gitarren-Rock ihrer vier männlichen Kollegen mit Popmusikunüblichen Instrumenten wie Cello und Blockflöte romantisiert.

Auf ihrer neuen, insgesamt zweiten LP, "Churches, Chips & Emrys", kombinierte die junge Kapelle erneut ihre Einflüsse von CURE, GOBETWEENS und VELVET UNDERGROUND zu einem eigenständigen, runden Stil. Noch im Frühjahr bestritten die B'SHOPS mit der legendären VELVET-UNDERGROUND-Schlagzeugerin Mo Tucker eine ausgiebige Tournee. Das hinterließ Wirkung. Im großzügien Zugabenteil spielten die Franken mit "Femmes Fatal" und "All Tomorrows Parties" zwei Stücke der amerikanischen Kultband. Nach anfänglicher Zurückhaltung wollte das Publikum die fünf unscheinbaren Musikanten nicht mehr von der Bühne lassen und feierte sie begeistert.

Dennoch blieb ein Wermutstropfen. War das Konzert der B'Shops doch das letzte kulturelle Ereignis unter dem langjährigen Spektakulum-Leiter Arno Hambloch. Und da das Benrather Veranstaltungszentrum auch von den städtischen Sparmaßnahmen betroffen sein soll, könnte ein weißer Fleck auf der Kulturlandkarte des Düsseldorfer Südens aufreißen.

(Rheinische Post, 12.11.1991 )

Vor einiger Zeit hat sich Neal Casal als Tourgitarrist von Shannon McNally verdingt. Dort traf er auf die Rhythmusgruppe Jeff Hill und Dan Fadel und während sich die Chefin entweder im Hotel ausruhte oder Promotion für ihr Album machte, checkte das Trio derweil im Club/Stadion den Sound. Jeder, der das mal erlebt hat, weiss wie langweilig das sein kann. Zum Zeitvertrieb spielten die Jungs alte Stones Nummern und Booker T.-style Funkinstrumentals, was ihnen so viel Spass machte, dass sie Hazy Malaze gründeten und ruckzuck ihr Debütalbum einspielten.

Alte Neal Casal Fans werden wissen, dass Neal sehr wohl eine Hardrock/Southern-Vergangenheit hatte und mal bei Blackfoot angestellt war - und sowieso ja ein mit allen Wassern gewaschener, exzellenter Gitarrist ist.

In knappen 11 Tagen wurde das vorliegende Album eingespielt, produziert von Eric Sarafin (Ben Harper, Acetone etc.). Ursprünglich als reines Instrumentalalbum im Stile der ersten Meters-Alben geplant, schrieb Neal am 3. Tag einige Texte, die das rockende Gebräu aus Southern-Rock, Blueswurzeln, Soul/Funk-Einflüßen und 70er Grooves positiv beleben. „Hazy Malaze“ könnte so auch vor knapp 30 Jahren geklungen haben, satter Triorock irgendwo im Niemandsland zwischen Little Feat und Johnny Guitar Watson, mal eine Trompete, mal eine Hammond oder wie beim letzten Track „Backwards Barrell“ die unnachahmliche Steel von Robert Randolph. Nichts wirklich Neues, aber man merkt an der Spielfreude der Band, dass der Funken bei den Sessions übergesprungen ist. Und wer die Alben oben genannter Künstler und Bands mit Stolz sein Eigen nennt, der wird an „Hazy Malaze“ seine Freude haben.

(Glitterhouse)

As an original member of Chick Corea's group Return to Forever, Purim subsequently drew praise as a solo act. Recording for the jazz label Milestone since 1973, Purim's sensual and strong voice was singular enough to withstand the pitfalls that hampered the work of many Latin jazz fusion artists. Open Your Eyes You Can Fly represents a commercial breakthrough, and has the artist again supplemented by adventurous players and top-notch songwriting. The best of the three Chick Corea tracks is the title song. With it's emotive and stinging guitar solo from David Amaro, it features Purim at her most accessible and charming. The remake of "Sometime Ago" has one of Corea's more accessible melodies, as Purim turns in one of her more sweet and fulfilling vocals. The melodic and soothing "San Francisco River" has the artist writing solely with frequent Corea collaborator Neville Potter on the evocative track. Despite the great work here, Open Your Eyes You Can Fly, lacks consistency. But with the great talents assembled and great voice, it's easy to overlook that fact. Hermeto Pascoal's "Andei (I Walked)" has a great synthesizer solo from George Duke and a flute solo from Pascoal. "Ina's Song (Trip to Bahia)" features Purim singing in Portuguese, starting off slow but then enlivened by her passion filled vocalizations. Produced by jazz producer Orrin Keepnews, this features the artist more lucid and joyful than some of her other work. For the reason it is recommended.

(by Jason Elias, All Music Guide)

Returning to covering other people's tunes, Tom Rush's main strength, Ladies Love Outlaws plunges the listener full-tilt into the country-rock sound which so many were finding in the mid-'70s. Included here are Guy Clark's "Desperados Waiting for a Train," Lee Clayton's title track, and a stunning redo of Rush's own "No Regrets" helped along by the likes of the Eagles and Carly Simon on backup. But the best is saved for last, where Rush covers Bruce Cockburn's "One Day I Walk," showing that he hadn't lost his touch. A bit rough in places, but well done for the most part.

(by James Chrispell, All Music Guide)

To many enthusiasts, the loss of Jim Morrison (vocals/lyrics) likewise meant the passing of the Doors. Certainly the band's focal point changed on the two long-players that the trio of John Densmore (drums/vocals), Ray Manzarek (keyboards/bass pedals/vocals), and Robbie Krieger (guitar/vocals) issued in the immediate post-Morrison era. As the "surviving" Doors had been working on ideas to present to Morrison — if and when he returned from a sabbatical in Paris, France — there is an organic flow that had spilled over from the L.A. Woman (1970) album. Another undeniable plus to Other Voices (1971) is that after being relegated as sidemen, each of the players is given an outlet for their songs and underutilized talents. Manzarek's bluesy opener "In the Eye of the Sun" has hints of "Down So Long" and "The Changeling." However, its true earmarks are the greasy slide guitar licks proffered by Krieger during the solo, and in response to Manzarek's lead vocal. Speaking of the guitarist, he is credited with the bulk of the material, beginning with the whimsical ode to monogamy "Variety Is the Spice of Life." Particularly suitable here is Krieger's nod to the Lovin' Spoonful's "Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind." The ethereal Densmore/Krieger composition "Ships w/ Sails" adopts the languid vibe of "Riders on the Storm," especially throughout the instrumental jam. Reaching back to the raw and ready sound of "Roadhouse Blues" is the semi-biographical and definitely metaphoric "Tightrope Ride" with direct references to the recently deceased Rolling Stones co-founder Brian Jones and seemingly implied about Morrison. The band charge forward in pure power trio mode with plenty of interaction between the primary participants — most notably Krieger's fiery fretwork and Manzarek's authoritative vocals. "Down on the Farm" is one of the less stylistically cohesive numbers, vacillating from the serene and slightly Polynesian section that breaks out into a rural hoedown before reverting back again. Yet the gorgeous melody and arrangement defy any of the other (slightly dated) incongruities. The upbeat "I'm Horny, I'm Stoned" is undoubtedly a reflection of both where Krieger — the song's author — as well as the survivors of the emotionally frazzled '60s collective heads were at. The mixing of ennui with an underlying paranoia provides a fascinating contrast. There is a soulful everyman quality to Manzarek's embodiment of the "Wandering Musician" that reiterates his considerable range as a performer. While not an overt homage or tribute to Morrison, there are a few obvious parallels within "Hang on to Your Life." The tune progresses through several distinct musical sections as the tempo incrementally accelerates to double time before concluding in an ultimate cacophony. No subtlety needed here. Although they'd never regain their former acclaim, the Doors would take this platter into the Top 40 and pull off a successful tour behind the project. The three-person lineup wasn't done yet as Full Circle (1972) followed the next year, after which Densmore, Krieger, and Manzarek laid the Doors to rest.

(by Lindsay Planer, All Music Guide)

2000er CD, aufgenommen in San Francisco, produziert von Marcus & Tim Mooney. Reife Arbeit, ausgewogen zwischen natürlichen Tönen und leiser Elektronik, mit zeitweise Trip Hop-naher Rhythmik, geprägt von sehr melodiösem Songwriting. Wertvolle Weiterentwicklung ihres eigenen Stils./p>

(Glitterhouse)

Of all the alleged pop recordings issued in the year 2000, none is more beguiling, lovely, and confounding than Hannah Marcus' fourth album. Over the 12 tracks that comprise Black Hole Heaven, a certain set of themes introduce themselves both compositionally and lyrically, and further one another as the recording plays out.

Black Hole Heaven is anything but a "black hole" of a record. While its subject matter is often subterranean — loss of ideals, faithlessness, drug use, the endless pit of love and its nadir, etc. — the thread that runs through this wondrously perverse and often harrowing carnival ride is a motivation to report the state of life as it is, and then to transform whatever adversity or blessing is encountered into the next stage of living it. Contradictions are central, both lyrically and compositionally. Faith and despair entwine with each other as lovers, tragedy, and laughter casually drink together at the well of wisdom, and delusion and clarity breed children that transcend both, mutating into a form of heavenly being.

Marcus composes all over the place — from the danced-out Brechtian rock & roll of "Lot 309," to the simple country waltz of the title track, to the shimmering, elegiac, bliss-out, slippery beat science that is "Osiris in Pieces." Loaded with visceral imagery, the latter song attempts to find some meaning in the human wreckage caused by substance abuse. In slow, striding measures she sings, at first almost journalistically: "Osiris in pieces, into the screen he stares/And he builds his little cities where they don't need any air/And he lights his glass pipe and swivels in his chair/And snickers as he says what if I never/What if I never." As Tim Mooney's drums and Marcus' guitars and keyboards slip the thread through the needle of the song's easy tempo, the horror becomes real. The tension builds musically as does the singer's anger, until finally she lashes out: "Your ship so full of holes it won't be long before it sinks/And your heart's not made of stone it's made of sh*t and man it stinks/I'm long done choking on your sugar-coated disrespect/I'd like to rip your f*cking throat out and plant a tree inside your neck."

Elsewhere, "Morning Glory," another sweet, sad, country-tinged ballad, examines mortality as a look back through the metaphor of a flower. And then there is the gorgeous and lilting "Los Alamos," one of the ten greatest breakup songs ever. It begins with sampled voice-overs from some old movie or TV show, and enjoins both singer and drummer to a course of sad exploration. Hip-hop rhythms slither in and guitars slip and slide through and under the mix, although never pronouncing their identity as a force. The music underlines the almost spiritual tenderness of the lyrics. Marcus sounds as if she is lost in her emotions here, allowing herself to be overtaken by them. The sampled voice continues to chant "infinite space" as she sings of a reverie of disintegration and loss and the sorrow of having transcended the season of love.

In all, Black Hole Heaven is Marcus' most complex and satisfying record to date. One can hear everyone from Scriabin to Dolly Parton to Leonard Cohen to Tom Waits to Roberta Flack here. It grasps everything that can be found in holes — in caves, in the earth, and in the human heart — and creates a mystical musical experience from the muck and clay found there. Unlike Charles Baudelaire's dictum that one has to be enmeshed in darkness in order to transcend it, Hannah Marcus creates a paean to love as another part of everyday life — to be witnessed, experienced, and moved through. She is a poet and a composer we can learn from.

Black Hole Heaven accepts all the contradictions of the human spirit. Marcus has given us an often harrowing, sometimes humorous, always tender meditation on some of the places encountered in the cycle of life, and shows us some we are terrified to visit. It's hardly possible to ask a pop record — and this is a gorgeous one — to do more.

(by Thom Jurek, All Music Guide)

John McLaughlin's first recording as a leader features the future innovator playing guitar in an English quartet. Although McLaughlin contributed all ten pieces, baritonist John Surman actually dominates this music, often swinging quite hard. The historically significant set, although a lesser-known item in McLaughlin's discography, is quite musical and enjoyable in its own right.

(by Scott Yanow , All Music Guide)

If you were looking for one John McLaughlin record you might play for a curious friend, this would be the one. Extrapolation was McLaughlin's first album release as a leader, and it sounds as fresh today as it did way back in 1969. From the opening strains of "Extrapolation" to the closing softness of "Peace Piece," this album presents a fine modern European jazz quartet in full charge of the sounds of their time.

Extrapolation features the under-appreciated John Surman on sax, Tony Oxley on drums and Brian Odges on bass. (Odges had just replaced Dave Holland, who was on his way to meet Miles in New York).

This quartet blazes through McLaughlin's JAZZ-blues-rock compositions and forms a hodge-podge of restless rhythms and irresistible hooks. Yet, despite its freeness (not meant in a strict jazz sense), Extrapolation is also quite cogent and thematic, as most tunes effortlessly run into each other. As always with McLaughlin, all of the players are allowed to excel and this makes for a very pleasing mix. Odges is surprisingly active and some even believe Surman steals the show. Oxley was a young star who never seemed to catch on in the States, but he remains a well-respected drummer in Europe.

Extrapolation also offers glimpses into the future. It presents the melody that would eventually become "Follow Your Heart." We discover "Arjen's Bag" (named after Dutch bassist Arjen Gorter) and "Pete the Poet." And don't forget about Binky. There is a bit of a beatnik sensibility to this album.

It would take the world 20 years to discover how truly timeless this album was. Extrapolation is definitely a jazz record. The great traditional jazz guitarist Joe Pass didn't have much interest in Mahavishnu John McLaughlin or fusion music. But someone played him this record once, and he commented that at least this guitarist (McLaughlin) knew how to play jazz. You think?

(Walter Kolosky, allaboutjazz.com)

Mit Christensen am Schlagzeug nahm ein anderer Bassist, der Deutsche Eberhard Weber, "Yellow Fields" auf. Ein Klassiker im ECM-Katalog wurde diese Aufnahme, weil sie in unnachahmlicher Manier Jazzrock und Kammer- Jazz - die beiden wichtigsten Jazzströmungen jener Zeit - vereinte. Das Geheimnis dieser Diplomatie: Weber und Sopransaxophonist Charlie Mariano übten sich als melodisch expressive Wortführer, während Keyboarder Rainer Brüninghaus mit Christensen den rhythmisch-harmonischen Part übernahm. ** Klang: 08-09

(© Stereoplay)

Psychonaut is more relaxed and has far less electronic elements than either Brainticket's first record, Cottonwoodhill, or the album that followed, Celestial Ocean. Though the record is more straightforward and song-oriented, it still has progressive and experimental elements that keep it from sounding too much like anything else. If anything, the group is not quite focused on any one style on this record, throwing in everything from the ethnic-influenced folk of "Radagacuca" and "One Morning" to the more traditional strummy folk of "Feel the Wind Blow" to the percussion-heavy avant-funk instrumental "Cocò Mary" to the quirky rock assaults of "Watchin' You" and "Like a Place in the Sun." "Like a Place in the Sun" is particularly effective, with dark spoken word vocals alternating in contrast with the sung chorus of its title. Effects and electronics are used much more subtly (especially compared to the earlier record), but are still quite evident. Psychonaut may not be as cohesive as the other early Brainticket albums, but it is also not as chaotic either, and as such may be the group's most accessible record without sacrificing originality.

(by Rolf Semprebon, All Music Guide)

... Wesentlich zugänglicher klang "Psychonaut" denn hier spielte die Band eine individuelle Form des Psych-Rocks mit viel Flöte, einer harten Hammondorgel, trippigen Sounds und "andersweltigen" Atmosphären.

(Good Times, 10 / 11.2010)

Klaus Paul stammt aus Stuttgart, wo er in den vergangenen vier Jahren als Kneipier (“1. Stock”), Labelgründer (Naiv) und nicht zuletzt als Gitarrist von Loretta in Erscheinung trat. Diese Band um Andreas Sauer, den einstigen “Lloyd Cole aus Leonberg”, hat seit ihrer Neuformierung Ende der 90er beständig Alben und Maxis auf Klaus Pauls Liebhaberlabel herausgebracht und genießt inzwischen auch bei nicht-schwäbischen Freunden dessen, was gemeinhin als Americana bezeichnet wird, einen guten Ruf. So gehört zum Loretta-Freundeskreis etwa Barbara Manning, die eine Zeit lang in Geislingen an der Steige wohnte und deren Go-Luckys (die Brüder Fabrizio und Flavio Steinbach) auch beim Klaus Paul Quintet Gitarre und Schlagzeug spielen.

Sie selbst stand Klaus Paul als Duettpartnerin beim akustischen “The Way We Talk” bei, das die sanfte, verletzliche Seite seines Solo-Debüts sehr schön repräsentiert. Solo-Debüt? Ja, denn von den dreizehn Stücken auf “Beautiful Ground” wurde lediglich der Titelsong in der jetzigen Quintett-Besetzung aufgenommen. Ansonsten ist der Großteil im Duo (mit dem Loretta-Drummer Bernhard Hahn als Koproduzenten) über einen Zeitraum von drei Jahren entstanden. Eine so gestaltete Mogelpackung wird aber gerne in Kauf genommen, wenn sie solch Kostbarkeiten wie “My Backyard”, “Another Round Around The Wheel” und “Waltz # 4” enthält, die in ihren reduzierten Arrangements an die schönsten Momente von Elliott Smith (die Fingerpickings!) und Chris Cacavas erinnern. Auch der Gastbeitrag von Elektrolochmann, die das Outro-Stück “Alone (In My Fucking Room)” komplett eingespielt haben, macht sich gut, gerade weil er einen Kontrapunkt zur gelegentlichen Schunkel-Tendenz setzt. Nicht, dass hier den Württembergern der Frohsinn missgönnt werden soll, aber solch augenzwinkernd vorgetragene Ratschläge wie “Oh no, play no song / Musicians don’t live long” geben dem auf weite Strecken vorzüglichen Folk-Pop-Album einfach keine Pluspunkte. Hoch anzurechnen ist “Beautiful Ground” aber, dass hier die Sympathie für Tom Petty nicht so stark durchscheint wie bei Loretta, sondern sich vielmehr Gemeinsamkeiten mit Archer Prewitt und frühsiebziger Softrock à la Bread und James Taylor entdecken lassen.

(Markus von Schwerin, www.intro.de)

The members of Tangerine Dream continued to hone their craft as pioneers of the early days of electronica, and the mid-'70s proved to be a time of prosperity and musical growth for the trio of Chris Franke, early member Peter Baumann, and permanent frontman Edgar Froese. The three of them had been delivering mysterious space records on a regular basis, and their growing confidence with early synthesizers (the best that money could buy at the time) made them virtuosos of the genre, even as they kept things organic and unpredictable with gongs, prepared piano, and electric guitar. Rubycon has aged gracefully for the most part, making it a solid companion (and follow-up) to their 1974 album, Phaedra. The somewhat dated palette of sounds here never overshadow the mood: eerie psychedelia without the paisleys — Pink Floyd without the rock. "Rubycon, Pt. 1" ebbs and flows through tense washes of echo and Mellotron choirs, as primitive sequencer lines bubble to the surface. "Pt. 2" opens in a wonderfully haunted way, like air-raid sirens at the lowest possible pitch, joined in unison by several male voices (someone in the band must have heard György Ligeti's work for 2001). Rising out of the murkiness, the synthesizer arpeggios return to drive things along, and Froese weaves his backwards-recorded guitar through the web without really calling too much attention to himself. The piece evolves through varying degrees of tension, takes a pit stop on the shoreline of some faraway beach, then ever so gradually unravels a cluster of free-form strings and flutes. The rest are vapors, your ears are sweating under your headphones, and the smoke has cleared from your bedroom. This is a satisfying ambient record from the pre-ambient era, too dark for meditation, and too good to be forgotten.

(by Glenn Swan, All Music Guide)

"Strange Fruit" is a great undiscovered work of the acoustic rock / classic rock genres, cited by some as a minor masterpiece. In the late 60's Gary Farr made the transition from leader of R&B outfit The T-Bones to a noted singer-songwriter. Recording an album for Marmalade Records, Farr then signed to CBS Records in 1970, recording this sole album for the label. Sessions featured contributions from RICHARD THOMPSON on lead guitar and leading lights of the underground MIGHTY BABY.

Unavailable on CD for many years, "Strange Fruit" is a record made by an often overlooked singer-songwriter made available once more by Esoteric Recordings and is certain to appeal to all who adore acoustic music both melancholic and uplifting. The reissue also features the first ever CD appearance of the single edit of "Revolution of the Season".

Farr, who had started recording in the mid-'60s as a journeyman British R&B/rock singer, showed signs of substantial growth by the time of this 1970 album. He was at this point writing most of his material, sometimes in a somber folk-rock-ish vein with echoes of the likes of Tim Hardin (without as much sentiment) or Roy Harper (without the craziness). Yet his talent did not quite cross the line from glimmers of promise to notable artistry. Some of this is run-of-the-mill bluesy rock in a sort of Band-like or sub-Rolling Stones Let It Bleed vein, and while the moody songs are nice and convincingly performed in his yearning voice, they're not outstanding. He would have done well to fully pursue the folkiest aspects of his work, as heard in such acoustic guitar-dominated tracks as "Down Among the Dead Men" and "In the Mud." The supporting players include three members of Mighty Baby and, in a little-known session appearance, Richard Thompson on lead guitar.

(by Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide)

Raul De Souza is one of the mysteries of the jazz world. In the 1970s, it was obvious that the Brazilian trombonist had a lot going for him: a distinctive and appealing tone, major chops, versatility, and a lot of soul and warmth. So why did he mysteriously fade into such obscurity in the 1980s? In an ideal world, De Souza would have built a huge catalogue. But regrettably, his recording career was short-lived. Produced by George Duke, 1977's Sweet Lucy is the first of three albums that De Souza recorded for Capitol in the late '70s. Vocal-oriented funk jams like "Wires" and the title song (both written by Duke) are catchy, but the fusion and pop-jazz instrumentals are where De Souza really shines. When he stretches out on "Bottom Heat," "Wild and Shy," and other pieces that he composed himself, De Souza shows a great deal of potential as a soloist. The LP's weakest track is a performance of the Brazilian ballad "New Love (Cancão do Nosso Amor)," which finds De Souza attempting to sing. The song is gorgeous, but De Souza doesn't do it justice because, quite honestly, he can't sing — calling his voice thin is being charitable. Besides, De Souza doesn't need to use his vocal chords to sing; he does plenty of "singing" with his trombone, and his command of that instrument makes Sweet Lucy an LP that is excellent more often than not.

(by Alex Henderson, All Music Guide)

Continuing with the stylistic developments of Stranded, Country Life finds Roxy Music at the peak of their powers, alternating between majestic, unsettling art rock and glamorous, elegant pop/rock. At their best, Roxy combine these two extremes, like on the exhilarating opener "The Thrill of It All," but Country Life benefits considerably from the ebb and flow of the group's two extremes, since it showcases their deft instrumental execution and their textured, enthralling songwriting. And, in many ways, Country Life offers the greatest and most consistent set of Roxy Music songs, illustrating their startling depth. From the sleek rock of "All I Want Is You" and "Prairie Rose" to the elegant, string-laced pop of "A Really Good Time," Country Life is filled with thrilling songs, and Roxy Music rarely sounded as invigorating as they do here.

(by Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide)

After temporarily suspending the band, J Mascis first snuck out "The Wagon" as a Sub Pop single, then a little while later released the group's first major-label album, Green Mind. More of a solo project than a group effort — Lou Barlow was out and then some, Murph only drums on three tracks, a few guests pop up here and there — it's still a great album, recorded and performed with gusto. Such a judgment may seem strange given Mascis' legendary image as the überslacker, but clearly the man knows how to balance how to convey himself with getting the job done. "The Wagon" itself kicks off the album, an even quicker and nuttier sequel to the peerless "Freak Scene" — Don Fleming of Gumball fame adds some of the music and background vocals, but otherwise it's Mascis and Murph cranking it and having a blast. When Mascis goes into one of his patented over-the-top solos, it all feels just right — this is loud rock music for putting a smile on your face, not beating up people in a pit. The remainder of the album floats and rumbles along in its uniquely Dinosaur Jr. type of way, as apt to find poppy hooks, singalongs, and soft strumming as it is to blow out the Marshalls. Sublime moments include the contrast of sweet acoustic guitar and loud drums on "Blowing It," the fun thrash of "How'd You Pin That One on Me," and the Mellotron-as-flute-tinged stomp "Thumb." If nothing on the album is completely as freaked-out and over the top as "Don't" from Bug, it's still a fine translation of Mascis' art for the commercial big boys. The song titles alone sometime say it all — "Puke + Cry," "I Live for That Look," "Muck." Mascis throughout sounds like his usual self, cracked drawl ever as it was and shall be.

(by Ned Raggett, All Music Guide)

With Ringo, Ringo Starr finally put his solo career in gear in 1973, after serving notice with back-to-back Top Ten singles in 1971 and 1972 that he had more to offer than his eccentric first two solo albums. Ringo was a big-budget pop album produced by Richard Perry and featuring Ringo's former Beatles bandmates as songwriters, singers, and instrumentalists. On no single track did all four appear, though George Harrison played the guitars on the John Lennon-penned leadoff track "I'm the Greatest," with Lennon playing piano and singing harmony. But it wasn't only the guests who made Ringo a success: Ringo advanced his own cause by co-writing two of the album's Top Ten singles, the number one "Photograph" and "Oh My My." The album's biggest hit was a second chart-topper, Ringo's cover of the old Johnny Burnette hit "You're Sixteen." Songs like "Have You Seen My Baby," a Randy Newman song with guitar by Marc Bolan, and Ringo and Vini Poncia's "Devil Woman" were just as good as the hits. Ringo's best and most consistent new studio album, Ringo represented both the drummer/singer's most dramatic comeback and his commercial peak. The original ten-track 1973 album got even better in 1991 as a 13-track CD reissue, the bonus tracks including the 1971 gold single "It Don't Come Easy" and its B-side, "Early 1970," a telling depiction of Ringo's perspective on the Beatles breakup.

(by William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide)

The debut album from Stackridge consists of nine curiously light folk-tinged tracks, with elements of progressive rock cropping up here and there in the friendly Canterbury style. Their music takes on the classic storytelling route, but is bolstered and heightened by instruments like violins, flutes, cellos, trumpets, and the distinct sound of the harmonium played by Andrew Creswell-Davis. Both James Warren and Creswell-Davis take turns at singing such merry lyrical excerpts as "40 missing floorboards, 50 frantic far-out mice below," sounding attractively waggish and peculiarly quaint in doing so. Without coming off as overly Celtic or far too English, Stackridge culminates the humor and the essence of figurative devices and lays them out within the field of woodwind and stringed instruments. With barely any percussion, songs like "Percy the Penguin" and "The Three Legged Table" carry out their jovial entendres to the eloquence of hand-plucked piano strings and a trio of trumpets. Their refined singing style helps each song render its own character and eccentricity when added to the numerous instruments. The albums that followed such as Friendliness and The Man in the Bowler Hat housed the same poetic components as their first release with the music sounding more progressive and slightly commercial.

(by Mike DeGagne, All Music Guide)

Malo's debut album remains their best and best-known work, primarily for the inclusion of the hit single "Suavecito." That track managed to make a Chicago-like pop-soul song sound hip with its smooth integration of Latin rhythms and irresistible "la la la" chorus. However, it represented just one facet of a band who, despite some expected similarities to Santana, played some of the most exciting and exuberant fusions of rock, soul, and Latin music. The six extended tracks (all clocking in at over six minutes apiece) leaned more heavily on hot Latin jazz brass than Santana did, though Jorge Santana himself generated plenty of friction with his burning electric guitar. It's not an exaggeration to state that by the time this came out in 1972, Malo's Latin rock blend sounded fresher than Santana's, if only because they sound hungrier and less formulaic than Santana did by that point. The Santana comparisons are unavoidable, though in this case it's to Malo's credit, as they too boasted a deft balance of improvisatory instrumental passages, solid multi-layered percussive rhythms, and emotional, romantic singing in both Spanish and English. The album has been reissued on CD as one of the discs in Rhino Handmade's Celebracion box set, with the addition of five bonus tracks, though those are merely edited single versions of songs on the LP.

(by Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide)

With their tune "Suavecito" a staple of radio when I was in high school (and it still is to some extent) this was probably my first taste of music Hispanic in nature. After my initiation with this record I went from one Santana (Jorge) to another (Carlos) and my taste base grew larger. This entire record is just full of the stuff that made San Francisco the musical jumping off spot of the sixties. There was a blend of cultures and an appreciation for music of all backgrounds. Tight controlled playing and a wonderful percussion beat makes this a classic record worth more than a few listens even today.

(tralfaz-archives.com)

This obscure musician has made some unforgettable albums, like Case History and this sprawling masterpiece. His themes are often very dark (fellow Brit Nick Drake’s “Black Eyed Dog” comes to mind when I listen to Coyne) and deals with stuff like insanity, despair, abuse and all manner of deviancies. He’s also a sharp satirist, as demonstrated by Dog Latin, This Is Spain and Good Boy, in which he respectively sends up organised religion, holidays in Spain and the public school system. Eastbourne Ladies also falls into this category. Everybody Says is a beautiul acoustic ballad and Mummy is a sweeping wall-of-sound rocker. His voice is not unlike Van Morrison’s in its scope and expressive range, but while Van’s is likely to be affected by spiritual ecstacy, Coyne’s can be twisted with rage or anguish, as on the title track. Marlene is a catchy number with gorgeous organ and guitar, a galoping beat and a sinister undertone. Talking To No One and House On The Hill are anguished but moving ballads about alienation and insanity. Lonesome Valley is more of the same, but over an uptempo beat and complex vocal arrangement where his voice really shines. Other great tracks include I Want My Crown, Nasty and Chairman’s Ball. With his chosen subject matter, it’s no surprise that Coyne has remained obscure. Still, I think that fans of Leonard Cohen, Richard Thompson, Marianne Faithfull, Nick Drake, Nico, Lydia Lunch and especially Swans, will find much here to appreciate.

Punk rock made the Streetwalkers seem like old farts, but Red Card proved (upcoming metaphor overuse intended) that they still had an ace up their sleeve. From the groove-heavy "Roll up, Roll Up" to the ferocious "Run for Cover," this is the first and last great gasp from this band. In fact, had it come a few years earlier, it could have been included along with some of the better work by Chapman and Whitney's previous band, Family. The highlight, perhaps the best reason to search out this record, is a cover of Otis Blackwell's "Daddy Rollin' Stone," which Roger Chapman absolutely sings the living sh*t out of. It's an exhilarating moment and proof positive that he has one of the great voices in rock & roll.

(by John Dougan, All Music Guide)

I saw Charlie Musselwhite for the first time in 1969. I bought this album soon after and have never stopped listening to it. This is a phenomenal blues band at the top of their game. Besides Musselwhite playing beautiful harp and singing beautifully, the band features Skip Rose on piano, Tim Kaihatsu and Larry Welker sharing the guitar duties, Carl Severied on the bass, Lance Dickerson on the drums, Fred Roulette on the pedal steel guitar and Rod Piazza sits in with a chromatic harmonica on "Blue Feeling Today"
One of the things that is great about the blues bands back in the sixties and seventies is that there seemed to be more emphasis on everybody in the group playing instead on just one or two featured players. "A Nice Day For Something" and "Christo Redemptor" feature solos by at least four people each. Musselwhite also gave room on each of the albums in this period for Rose to feature one of his own songs. The rest of the material includes songs by the likes of Willie Dixon, Little Walter, Duke Pearson, Fenton Robinson as well as a couple of songs by Musselwhite.
This was a time period that was a golden age for the blues. Magic Sam, Muddy Waters, Butterfield, Buddy Guy, Otis Spann, Junior Wells and many others were in their prime. It was still possible to hear some of the great country blues players like Son House or Mississippi John Hurt or Fred McDowell. Many of the players from the generation inbetween like Sam Hopkins were still around. It was possible to hear the whole history of the genre being performed live and to hear the extensions of the genre that people like Butterfield were making. Musselwhite is as good as anybody from that period. And this album is one of his best.

(Greg Taylor, gefunden bei Amazon)

The addition of jazz pianist Skip Rose gave a new dimension to the ensemble sound, and provided a perfect foil to Charlie's own soloing — especially on the re-take of "Cristo Redentor," extended to 11 minutes, shifting to double-time in spots. Rose's instrumental, "A Nice Day for Something," is a welcome change of pace, and Musselwhite's "Blue Feeling Today" compares favorably to fine covers of Little Walter and Fenton Robinson tunes.

(by Dan Forte, All Music Guide)

2001er Werk, wie gewohnt bei naiv in Digipak und Pappschuber gehüllt. Das Quintett aus Stuttgart überrascht ein weiteres Mal mit einer traumwandlerischen Stil-Sicherheit, wenn es um die Fragen des letztgültigen Gitarren-Pops geht, der aus den Quellen von Beatles bis Petty schöpft und neue Strömungen absorbiert, um Neues entstehen zu lassen. 16 Tracks, produziert von Rob Leicht (Lemonheads und Teenage Fanclub).

(Glitterhouse)

“Die Stuttgarter eifern ganz klar amerikanischen Vorbildern nach, aber das machen sie doch außergewöhnlich gut, so daß man manchmal denken könnte, die neue Scheibe der Schramms läge im CD-Spieler oder Lloyd Cole hätte eigentlich die Songs geschrieben.” (Intro)

CD auf naiv hören & sehen, neues Werk der Band um den Sänger, Gitarristen, Autoren, Keyboarder Andreas Sauer. Die kommt zwar aus Stuttgart, aber schert sich nicht drum und klingt wie eine wohl ausgewogene Mischung aus britischem Pop und amerikanischem Neo-Folk/Country. Produziert hat die Platte die Legende Thomas J. Newton, als Gäste wirkten Barbara Manning und Dave Kusworth mit. Die CD kommt in der von naiv gewohnten feinen Aufmachung (Digipak mit zusätzlichem Papp-Schuber).

(Glitterhouse)

„Abermals schenkt uns Sauer eingängige, ja schmissige Gitarrenpopsongs ... vielleicht etwas poppiger als sein Backkatalog und mit offensichtlichen Hits.“ (Intro)

Yes friends, here it is: der hochoffiziöse Kommentar von Loretta-Mastermind Andreas Sauer zu jedem einzelnen Song des Albums "Goodbye":
www.day-glo.de/loretta2.htm

Stuttgart, Arkansas

Auch wenn sich die Platte "auf den ersten Blick" so anhört, als würden die Musiker von Loretta seit Jahren in der amerikanischen Ödnis wohnen, so kommen sie doch aus Stuttgart im Ländle. Aber auch dort kann eine Band die gleiche gepflegte Melancholie aufbauen, die man von der amerikanischen Verwandtschaft gewohnt ist. Titel wie "The day I cut my wrists", "She'd rather bleed" und "Everything's fucked up" lassen nicht darauf schließen, daß "Goodbye" eine fröhliche Platte wäre. Man darf ja auch mal depressiv sein.

Das Album ist musikalisch recht abwechslungsreich, auch wenn die ruhigeren, sparsam instrumentierten Songs überwiegen. Mit einem Hauch Chris & Carla hier (im wunderschönen Beziehungsendestück "Carlotta's sleeping") und einer Idee Tom Petty dort, bauen Loretta im Verlaufe der Platte ein wunderschönes, komplexes Roadmovie im Kopf auf. Auf dessen Besetzungsliste stehen Barbara Manning und Dave Kusworth (Jacobites), die wohl beide an den Aufnahmen zu "Goodbye" ihren Spaß gehabt haben ("That sounds like the Chipmunks"). Ob in "Everything's fucked up" über eine verlorene Beziehung räsoniert wird oder in "Here comes the night" ein Thema wie in Nick Hornbys "High fidelity" angesprochen wird ("All my records say, I got a taste [...] All my comic books say, I'm a funny guy") - jeder Song steht auch unabhängig vom Gesamteindruck der Platte für sich selbst, jeder Song ist eine eigene Episode.

Wer die neueren Spielarten der amerikanischen Folkmusik mag, wird auch von dieser Platte begeistert sein. Man muß nicht in Amerika aufgewachsen sein muß, um solche Musik zu machen. Loretta plagiieren nicht, sondern haben ihren eigenen "positiv depressiven" Stil gefunden, der diese Platte zu einer der schöneren aus diesem Genre macht, die mir in der letzten Zeit über den Weg gelaufen sind. Manche Leute schreiben halt dann die besseren Songs, wenn sie gerade eher schlechter drauf sind. "Goodbye" ist, am besten bei einem Glas kalifornischen Rotwein oder einer gepflegten Beziehungskrise genossen, die perfekte Platte für diesen "wundervollen" Sommer (oder für einen beliebigen verregneten Herbsttag). Besser fühlt man sich dadurch zwar nicht, aber man weiß wenigstens, daß es anderen Leuten genauso geht.

(Ralph Angenendt)