Trademark Of Quality

Turn Up The Radio with The Rockets!

2009-12-05T16:22:00.005-05:00

Detroit in the late-70s was a true rock 'n' roll Mecca. Ted Nugent was hitting the charts, and Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band were blowing up nationwide. The MC5 were long gone, but Fred "Sonic" Smith had his Sonic's Rendezvous Band to kick out the jams on stages from Ann Arbor to Toledo, and all points in between. The street scene was vital as well, with a mix of punk, pop, and art-rockers knockin' 'em down at the New Miami club every weekend. Bands like the Mutants, Flirt, Cinecyde, Destroy All Monsters, and the Romantics were redefining the Motor City sound, and those of us in the audience just hung on for a wild ride.

Into this musical maelstrom stepped the Rockets. Formed earlier in the decade as "the Detroit Rockets" by guitarist Jim McCarty, fresh from the band Cactus, and drummer Johnny “Bee” Badanjek, both musicians were veterans of Mitch Ryder's Detroit Wheels. The original incarnation of the Rockets featured Badanjek on vocals, belting out the songs from behind his drum kit. Although they had begun to develop a local following, it wasn't until they added singer David Gilbert in 1976 that the Rockets truly took launch.

Gilbert was the sort of rock 'n' roll wildman that was typical of the 1960s/70s…a golden-tressed Adonis with a larger-than-life voice and the sort of charismatic presence to take the band to the top of the heap. Gilbert's bluesy baritone had been honed by fronting a half-dozen Detroit-area garage bands, which brought him to the attention of Ted Nugent.

The Nuge enlisted Gilbert to front his early-70s incarnation of the Amboy Dukes, and Gilbert spent a year in the dim spotlight of minor stardom. It lit a fire in the young singer, and he would relocate to L.A. to join New Order, the pre-punk outfit formed by the Stooges' Ron Asheton and the MC5's Dennis Thompson. A little more than a year later, Gilbert returned to Detroit and would be discovered fronting an Ann Arbor bar band by Rockets' guitarist Dennis Robbins. Although McCarty was reluctant, the band recruited Gilbert as their singer and hit the road.

Gilbert brought an entirely different dimension to the band's sound, one that was exploited by their debut album, 1977's Love Transfusion. The album received favorable reviews, including a nice write-up in Rolling Stone, and the Rockets status changed from Detroit bar band to opening act for nationwide tours by Kiss and Bob Seger. By the time that they convened in Muscle Shoals, Alabama with producer Johnny Sandlin (The Allman Brothers) to record their self-titled sophomore effort, tensions were already high and relationships strained by touring, drugs, and alcohol.

Tension and stress often times create great art, and if The Rockets isn't a great album, it's a great example of Detroit rock 'n' roll nonetheless. Sandlin coaxed great performances out of singer Gilbert, guitarists McCarty and Robbins, and drummer Badanjek. Most of the bass parts on the album were played by Muscle Shoals session legend David Hood. The result was a fine collection of high-octane Motor City raw meat tempered with a little Southern soul seasoning.

The Rockets is remembered fondly by fans for the minor regional hit "Turn Up The Radio" and an inspired cover of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac gem "Oh Well," which earned the band it's first Top Thirty charting single. There's plenty of other stuff to like here, though. The album-opening "Can't Sleep" is a sly piece of Southern-friend funk that mixes a pop-rock chorus with a slippery rhythm to great effect, similar to what Wet Willie had done on early albums. As the second single off the album it rose to a respectable #51 on the Billboard Top 100 chart. The fan-fave "Turn Up The Radio" is a no-frills Motor City rocker with blustery vocals, the sort of rebellious rock 'n' roll fable that fueled the 70s-rock sound and is sadly missing from today's music.

The band surprised many with the deft hand applied to Green's "Oh Well," a difficult song that has been covered by many but mastered by few. The Rockets come mighty close here, with McCarty and Robbins' dueling guitars outpacing the band's rhythmic accompaniment. Gilbert's vocals are dropped a little low in the mix for my taste, but phrased nicely and appropriately echoed; it is the guitar framework that drives the song, however, and the two fretburners add just enough feedback and fireworks to claim this turf for the Motor City.

The moody, atmospheric "Lost Forever, Left For Dreaming" shows Badanjek's skills as a songwriter, the song's bittersweet lyrics delivered with some fine emotion by Gilbert and echoed by some rare harmonies. The song showcases Donnie Backus's pianowork, which adds to the ambiance of the song. Bob Seger gave the band his "Long Long Gone" to record, and lyrically it sounds like a typical winsome Seger song from this period, but this isn't the Silver Bullet Band, and the Rockets deliver it their way with Gilbert perfectly expressing the song's wanderlust while the band follows with a lush soundtrack that again emphasizes Backus's keyboards.

McCarty's "Love Me Once Again" is a balls-to-the-wall rocker with Chuck Berry-inspired duckwalkin' guitar licks and reckless Jerry Lee-styled piano-pounding. A cover of Little Richard's classic "Lucille" amps up the guitars and pumps the keyboards full of steroids and Gilbert delivers his stomp-and-stammer vox above screaming guitars and explosive drumbeats. The Rockets closes with Badanjek's "Feel Alright," a happy-go-lucky mid-tempo rocker with crashing rhythms, shouted harmonies, and scraps of molten fretwork.

After the minor success of The Rockets album, which rose as high as #56 on the Billboard album chart, the band would return to the same well for their follow-up, 1980's No Ballads. With the addition of bassist Dan Keylon, the band plumbed much of the same musical territory as their sophomore effort, i.e. no-frills rock 'n' roll with occasional strains of Southern funkiness creeping into the grooves. The album would keep the band on the cusp of success, the first single "Desire" only climbing as high as #70, although No Ballads itself would beat its predecessor by a few notches, hitting #53 on the chart.

No Ballads shows the band stretching out a little, augmenting its hard-rockin' guitar-bass-drums-energy formula with a few flourishes. The album's charting single, "Desire," is a nifty lil' slab o' period rockola, a screaming rocker with a locomotive rhythm, great vocals, a few memorable guitar licks, and an overall riot-inciting vibe that should have taken it higher up the charts if not for those new wave wimps that were beginning to creep onto the 1980s rock scene.

The band's label at the time must have given up on the Rockets, 'cause No Ballads has a couple of other tunes that coulda, shoulda groped their way up the charts and onto the radio airwaves. The swaggering, muscular "Restless" features a bluesy undercurrent that synthesizes blues-rock and pop-rock in way that the J. Geils Band would hit gold with a couple of years later, and McCarty's (or Robbins') guitar solos here sound just like Geils' on that band's Sanctuary album. A spry cover of Lou Reed's "Sally Can't Dance" literally drips with Southern funk spirit and badass cock-rock strutting that could have fought its way into the upper reaches of the Billboard singles chart.

Badanjek's "Takin' It Back" is nothing more than "Turn Up The Radio" redux, with a similar boogie-rock based rollicking rhythmic soundtrack, scattershot vocals, plenty of potent guitar riffing, and mile-a-minute drumbeats that swing harder than John Henry's legendary hammer. McCarty's "I Want You To Love Me" is a blues-rocker not dissimilar to some of the best of Cactus' songs, an up-tempo barn-burner with honky-tonk piano and imaginative guitarplay that evokes the sound of British blooze fretburners like Eric Clapton and Peter Green.

Both The Rockets and No Ballads albums fell short of Gold Record status, selling around 400,000 copies each and failing to break the band with a the mainstream rock audience. The latter album, in particular, had its commercial prospects hamstrung by label RSO's desperate financial condition. When RSO went belly-up, the Rockets signed to Elektra Records. Still seeking that monster hit, they moved from Detroit to Los Angeles to record Back Talk with noted producer Jack Douglas (Aerosmith, Cheap Trick). The partnership didn't work out as they had planned, however, and the album barely crawled into the Top 200 at #165, stiffing even in their Detroit stronghold.

While tensions in the band were already stressful, drug and alcohol use – especially by Gilbert – didn't help the band's fragile musical chemistry, and it showed with 1982's Rocket Roll, the band's final studio effort and a last gasp attempt at relevance in a world that had clearly moved past them. Friction between band co-founder Badanjek and Robbins would result in the guitarist's removal as the band stumbled back home to record Rocket Roll. The label even budgeted for a video for the album's lone single, "Rollin’ by the Record Machine," but even MTV couldn't save the Rockets by this time. A live album represented the band's swansong; recorded in the Rockets' backyard, it did little to capture their previous magic. Shortly after its release, the band broke up….

Dave Gilbert would move onto other bands, none nearly as remarkable or successful as the Rockets. Years of alcohol abuse finally caught up with the singer, and Gilbert died in 2001 at the age of 49 years. Guitarist Dennis Robbins, unceremoniously sacked from the band, ended up having the last laugh, moving to Nashville where he became a successful country songwriter with hits by Garth Books and Travis Tritt to his credit. Jim McCarty would spend much of the '80s and '90s with the Detroit Blues Band and Mystery Train before taking part in a Cactus reunion in 2006 that resulted in the album V. McCarty recently reunited with his long-time friend Johnny "Bee" Badanjek in the Hell Drivers, the Detroit rockers performing songs by the Rockets, Bob Seger, Iggy Pop, and Mitch Ryder to appreciative audiences.

Often overlooked in an album-oriented-rock world dominated by the likes of Journey, Foreigner, REO Speedwagon and their ilk, the Rockets never received the acclaim they deserved, nor did they ever deliver the masterpiece album that would endear them to cultists and collectors. The band retains a small albeit loyal following worldwide, and the Rockets' catalog goes in-and-out of print with alarming regularity. This 2009 Renaissance Records reissue pairs The Rockets with No Ballads so that you can experience the band's two best albums on a single disc. (Renaissance Records)

Related Content:
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(Click on the CD cover to buy The Rockets/No Ballads from Amazon.com)

The Gilded Palace of Sin

2009-11-08T14:21:00.002-05:00

You'll get no argument from me about Gram Parsons' role as the forefather of the "alt-country" movement, as well as an incredible influence on both country and rock music from the '70s through the present day. As an artist, Parsons' all-too-brief catalog has taken on a near-mythological status, the man himself deified with a fervor reserved for dead icons like Nick Drake and Tim Buckley that never achieved the fame and/or notoriety of a Hendrix or a Morrison.

As writer Bob Proehl shows in his excellent and insightful addition to Continuum's ongoing 33 1/3 series of books, as talented and visionary as Parsons was, he didn't do it all alone. Often overlooked as part of both Parsons' grand experiment in late-60s country-rock after he hijacked Roger McGuinn's Byrds, and as a founding member of the much-lauded Flying Burrito Brothers, without multi-instrumental talent Chris Hillman, neither the Sweetheart of the Rodeo (1968) or The Gilded Palace of Sin (1969) albums would have been the same, and indeed might not have existed without Hillman's invaluable contributions.

Proehl tackles The Gilded Palace of Sin album for the 33 1/3 series with an approach that is part historical and part critical. In truth, this is a difficult musical masterpiece to dissect…although the album's mix of rock, country, and classic R&B was undeniably unique, and it would take decades for it to be fully digested and spit back out by bands like Uncle Tupelo, it's an album of dichotomies, as well. The songs penned by Parsons and Hillman are among the best the two men would ever create, the tense chemistry between the two artists resulting in lyrics that were topical and timeless.

However talented the assembled musicians, however, much of the music on The Gilded Palace of Sin sounds tentative, weakly produced, and often times it is Parsons himself who fails to deliver in measure with the status he has since been accorded. Make no mistake – this is a classic album by any standards, but it is Hillman's voice that often soars in harmony with Parsons', and the impact of Sneaky Pete Kleinow's mournful steel guitar on the band's sound cannot be underestimated. In short, it was a true band effort, not just the GP show.

Proehl frames his book by quickly touching on Parsons' brief, but tumultuous membership in the Byrds, an artistic invasion if you will as Parson attempted to bring the vision of country music that he tried to create with his previous outfit, the International Submarine Band, to McGuinn's folk-rock hitmakers. Under Parsons' influence, Sweetheart of the Rodeo would become a different album than McGuinn originally envisioned, but in the end, one of the band's worst-selling albums would become, perhaps, its best-known based entirely on Parsons' meager presence on the final product.

Proehl offers up just enough biographical information on Parsons to explain his Southern heritage and country music inclinations, quickly plunging his protagonist into late-60s Southern California and the formation of the Flying Burrito Brothers with former Byrds bandmate Chris Hillman. Proehl divvies up each chapter according to Biblical sins, using "vanity," "envy," "sloth," "avarice," etc to frame the story of the band, and of key songs on The Gilded Palace of Sin album.

There's a lot drama here for Proehl to draw from…Parsons, a trust fund baby from a well-off Southern family had the money to ensure comfort and plenty of drugs to feed his growing habit, while the rest of the band struggled as the stereotypical "starving artists." A cross-country tour by train (Parsons was notoriously afraid of flying unless "doped up to his eyeballs") was a financial and artistic disaster, the barely-practiced band's performances outside of Los Angeles drawing meager audiences. The album, although receiving glowing endorsements from Rolling Stone magazine and counter-culture icon Bob Dylan, sold sluggishly and was mostly misunderstood by its target audience.

Proehl's descriptions of the culture, environment, and aspirations behind the album are lively, while his use of quotes from musicians and hangers-on alike helps put the story in proper context, fleshing out the story. Surprisingly, although Proehl included Hickory Wind, writer Ben Fong-Torres' biography of Parsons, in his research he seems to have neglected musician Sid Griffin's excellent biography of the artist, as well as John Einarson's acclaimed Hot Burritos book on the band, although he does include Einarson's Desperados: The Roots of Country Music in his bibliography.

In the end, the same creative and economic tensions that helped make The Gilded Palace of Sin a classic album also forced Hillman to fire Parsons shortly after the release of the band's sophomore effort, Burrito Deluxe. Hillman would later play musical matchmaker, pairing his former songwriting partner with singer EmmyLou Harris, thus providing the spark that would launch Parsons' widely acclaimed (and equally influential), albeit brief solo career. Proehl ends his telling of the tale with Parsons' tragic, but not entirely unforeseen death in 1973.

Proehl does a fine job of describing the musical dynamic in the band, Parsons' and Hillman's creative process, and both the triumphs and obstacles experienced by the Flying Burrito Brothers. Proehl's prose is entertaining and informative, providing the casual fan or newcomer to the Burritos' mythos an easy-to-use guide to the band's most important album, while still providing plenty of meat on the bone for longtime fans to gnaw upon.

More importantly, whether he set out to do so or not, Proehl places The Gilded Palace of Sin in its proper historical context, his emphasis on Hillman's role with the band in no way diminishing Parsons' importance. His work doesn't deflate the still-growing Parsons' mythology as much as it humanizes it and grounds Parsons' enormous musical contributions in reality, where they belong. (Continuum Books)

(Click on the book cover to buy The Gilded Palace of Sin from Amazon.com)

Nils Lofgren - Cry Tough

2009-11-04T07:18:00.003-05:00

Nils Lofgren would first come to the attention of the rock 'n' roll world when he was offered a position with Neil Young's band as a guitarist and keyboard player at the tender age of 17 years. Playing and touring in Young's band with the members of Crazy Horse, Lofgren would appear on Young's After The Goldrush and Tonight's The Night albums, and would also record with Crazy Horse for their solo debut. During this same time period, circa 1969-1973, Lofgren also fronted his own band in Grin, recording four albums before breaking up the band and launching his solo career in 1974.

While Nils Lofgren's self-titled 1975 solo debut would become the stuff of legend, sending the guitarist and songwriter's career into the stratosphere, Lofgren's second effort, 1976's Cry Tough, stands tall as an accomplished work in its own right. Partially produced by rock 'n' roll wunderkind Al Kooper – no slouch in the musical genius department himself – and Neil Young cohort David Briggs, Lofgren was backed by his brother and former Grin bandmate Tom, and a band of session pros, including drummers Jim Gordon and Aynsley Dunbar and bassists Paul Stallworth, Wornell Jones, and Chuck Rainey. As such, Cry Tough would serve as a fine follow-up to the guitarist's debut.

The album-opening title track would become one of Lofgren's long-time fan favorites. The fretwork on "Cry Tough" is wiry and just a little dirty, with a bit of blues falling in between the lines, and Kooper smartly segregates Lofgren's best solo to a spotlight of its own. The song's lyrical rock 'n' aesthetic didn't hurt, either, and it would become a live staple of Lofgren's performances for years.

Although Briggs would often feature Lofgren's guitar high in the mix, Kooper would make the best use of Lofgren's guitar hero status and six-string acumen. Take, for instance, the mostly mid-tempo, near-ballad "It's Not A Crime"…although Lofgren's vocals struggle at times to be heard above the mix, and the song's lush orchestration and backing vocals threaten to bury the frontman altogether, Kooper amps it up for Lofgren's roof-raising solos, which provide the song with an athlete's heartbeat.

On the other hand, the Briggs-produced "Incidentally…It's Over" is one of Lofgren's best tunes in a catalog deep with such, a taut guitar showcase with Lofgren's ever-present fretwork threaded throughout, but with plenty of room left for a couple of scorched-earth solos, a fine vocal performance, and real piss-off lyrics. Kooper has Lofgren try his hand at the old Yardbirds' gem "For Your Love," the early-60s blues-rock number transformed into a galloping rock 'n' roll leviathan with bluesy vocals, rapidfire drumbeats, steely bass lines, and a display of six-string proficiency that would light the sky like the fourth of July. Lofgren's solos are all over the place, from psychedelic squiggles to fierce, semi-metallic razorblades cutting straight through the mix.

Lofgren follows the inspired performance of "For Your Love" with the equally devastating "Share A Little." A muscular rocker with blistering, molten fretwork and staggered, syncopated rhythms, Wornell Jones' bass provides a foundation on which Lofgren goes nuts with his flamethrower solos. The song includes backing vocals from his former Crazy Horse bandmates Ralph Molina and Billy Talbot. With only sparse accompaniment…just Scott Ball's spry upright bass lines and Holden Raphael's fast-paced percussion…Lofgren's "Mud In Your Eye" is a departure, the song depending mostly on his lively vocals and a bit of acoustic guitar strum and piano. Lyrically clever, its words delivered with no little spite, it's an odd little romantic passion-play and quite entertaining.

Another bittersweet romantic rocker, "You Lit A Fire" is complimented by Kooper's thick orchestral arrangement and Lofgren's inventive, fluid guitarplay, which sounds a lot like he'd been listening to a little Ernie Isley at the time. Lofgren's vocals are fine, and the slightly-funky backbeat provided by the Rainey/Gordon rhythm section could have easily played into the strengths of AM radio circa 1976, sliding in right beside the Isley Brothers on the charts. Cry Tough closes with a funky rocker, "Jailbait" a story of illicit love delivered amidst a flurry of rampaging rhythms and a fat rhythmic groove, Lofgren's guitar taking on a Southern rock feel similar to what Kooper accomplished with Gary Rossington a year earlier on Lynyrd Skynyrd's Nothin' Fancy album.

Cry Tough would become the best-selling album of Lofgren's solo career, rising as high as #32 on the Billboard charts and ensuring the guitarist the opportunity to follow up with albums like 1978's I Came To Dance, 1979's Nils, and the acclaimed 1983 set Wonderland. Lofgren would put his solo aspirations on hold for a decade when he joined Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band in 1984, and although he has released only a handful of well-received studio albums in the years since, Lofgren has kept the fires burning for his beloved early material through archival releases and a string of live albums. Cry Tough is the album that cemented Lofgren's musical reputation, however, and it sounds as electric and vital today as it did in 1976. (Hip-O Select Records)

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(Click on the CD cover to buy Cry Tough from Amazon.com)

Grin featuring Nils Lofgren - Gone Crazy

2009-11-04T07:06:00.002-05:00

After touring with Neil Young while still a teenager, singer, songwriter, and guitar hero Nils Lofgren formed the band Grin in 1969 with bassist Bob Gordon and drummer Bob Berberich. While his credentials as part of Young's entourage certainly attracted a few people to the band's early shows, Grin rapidly built a fervent audience of its own in the Washington D.C./northern Virginia area based entirely on the band's dynamic performances and Lofgren's six-string pyrotechnics.

Lofgren further parlayed his connection with Young into a record deal for Grin, and the band released its self-titled debut in 1971. Grin's sound was simple, no-frills, guitar-driven rock 'n' roll with pop overtones and catchy melodies. Although the debut album didn't set the world on fire with sales, it did well enough to merit a follow-up, and in '72 the band released 1+1. The album's lone single release, a clever slice of power-pop called "White Lies," would become a minor hit on AOR radio, rising as high as #75 on the Billboard magazine pop chart and propel the album onto the bottom end of the Billboard Top 200 album chart.

To help flush out the band's sound, Lofgren added his brother as a second guitarist after the second album, Tom Lofgren playing rhythm behind Nils' scorching leads. In 1973, the band released All Out, another fine collection of songs that rose almost as high as 1+1 on the charts, but yielded no singles, hit or otherwise. Disappointed by the band's lack of forward commercial momentum, CBS dropped Grin, who would quickly be picked up by A&M Records.

Gone Crazy would be the result, Grin's fourth and final album released in 1973 and sadly suffering a fate similar to its predecessors. Many consider Gone Crazy to be Grin's weakest album, but I'd disagree – the band's four-album milieu is uniformly and consistently enjoyable. Grin's infectious pop/rock sound was a welcome digression during the hard rock early-70s, and if Lofgren and crew could easily bang it out with the heaviest of their contemporaries, they also possessed an elfin charm and whimsical nature that sets their music apart from much of the decade's better-known bands.

Gone Crazy opens with a fierce rocker, "You're The Weight" offering up a concrete-hard guitar-bass-drum riff on top of which Lofgren lays down his potent vocals and measured wildcat solos. The song is as infectious as anything Grin had done previously and, in many ways, foreshadows Lofgren's soon-to-come solo debut album. The band slows it down a bit for the mid-tempo ballad "Boy + Girl," which features as much of Lofgren's keyboard skills as it does guitar. With trilling piano play that sounds like an old-timey, Western saloon soundtrack, Lofgren tries on his best blue-eyed soul shoes, the song engaging and hiding just a bit of nasty funk beneath the grooves.

"What About Me" returns the band to solid rock territory, Lofgren's wiry fretwork running like an electrical charge across the song's exotic instrumentation. While Lofgren's vocals here are a little more strained, they fit the chaotic feel of "What About Me," with the rest of the band throwing in their own shouted harmonies. Lofgren delivers a scorching solo at just past the two-minute mark, short and shocking and simply devastating while his grinning (sorry!) band members knock out the wild-n-wooly rhythms behind him.

"True Thrill" is a bouncy, pop-influenced tune with a slippery rhythmic arrangement, Nils' trademark guitarplay, a little vocal harmony, and some very fine basswork by Gordon. With a little label push in the right direction – perhaps a judiciously-placed $100 bill in the sleeve for a few station programmers – and the song could have been a hit on both AM and FM radio. By contrast, "Beggar's Day" (Eulogy to Danny Whitten)" is a blistering rocker and strictly FM radio fare. Written for his fallen Young bandmate Whitten, it is lyrically one of the best songs Lofgren has written, with powerful instrumental backing, passionate vocals, and some of Lofgren's nastiest guitar solos.

The gentle ballad "Believe" is the closest that Gone Crazy comes to a clunker, the piano-heavy tune relying too much, perhaps, on Lofgren's still-maturing keyboard skills and too little on his six-string mastery. Lofgren's vocals are slight, sometimes too sweet, and the band harmonies are simply precious, and the lyrics come from a solidly romanticist perspective, but the song could have benefitted from a little guitar grit. The album ends with "Ain't For Free," a bluesy mid-tempo honky-tonker that smolders in the grooves and features a different side of Lofgren's guitar skills.

After touring in support of Gone Crazy, Grin would break up in 1974 and Lofgren would stay with A&M Records, delivering his critically-acclaimed self-titled debut album a year later, fully launching a successful and varied career that is still going strong today. Although the Grin chapter of Nils Lofgren's musical history has been obscured by his later work, it's nice to once again hear the underrated Gone Crazy, one of the true hidden gems among the band's sparse catalog. (Hip-O Select Records)

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(Click on the CD cover to buy Gone Crazy from Amazon.com)

U.K. Punk Daze Revisited

2009-10-04T17:31:00.005-04:00

German filmmaker Wolfgang Büld made somewhat of a name for himself in the late-70s with a trilogy of music-related documentaries that captured the energy and creativity of the British punk scene and its aftermath. Recently reissued on DVD by our good friends at Music Video Distributors, the three films – Punk In London, Punk In England, and Reggae In A Babylon – were the German music fan's attempts to share his apparent excitement over what was going on in England with a wider European audience.

Let's get something straight from the beginning – Wolfgang Büld is no Michael Moore, or even Ken Burns. Both Punk In London and Punk In England are flawed, middlin' efforts where decent camerawork is marred by the atrocious crimes that were committed in the editing room. Sure, there were technological drawbacks of filming in the late-70s that contemporary documentarians aren't forced to suffer, but my main problem is in these films' lack of cohesion or narrative.

It would also have been nice if Büld had spent a quid or two on titles, as anyone not intimately familiar with British punk circa 1978 would be completely lost by interviews with mumbling, barely-articulate musicians without indentifying titles. Yeah, I know that Punk In London was made by a German filmmaker, but did he really have to provide narration in his native tongue, thereby keeping most of us in the dark?

What Büld did right was in letting his camera capture the raw youth and reckless energy of the various bands' live performances. This is something he does better with Punk In England, allowing longer and more stylistically varied performance clips, but there are several priceless, one-of-a-kind appearances of merit on Punk In London as well.

Punk In London opens up with several interviews where the young punk rockers are trying to define the concept of punk, stuttering yabbos claiming to have re-invented the wheel while putting down the music of the 1960s as "irrelevant," even if several high-profile punk artists would later claim the era's influence on their own music. The manager of the Damned and Generation X speaks of the difficult economies of booking punk shows at London clubs, and the camera also visits the influential retail watering hole, Rough Trade Records.

As stated before, though, it's with the live performance clips and not with the scattershot and mostly incomprehensible artist interviews that Punk In London shines. From the well-known (The Clash, Boomtown Rats) to the barely-known (Chelsea, the Lurkers), and quite a few in between, the film provides each band with an invaluable onstage forum to shine. The obscure (in the U.S., anyway) band Chelsea kicks out one of its better tunes, the politically-charged "Right To Work," with a muscular performance rife with spitting vocals and heavy riffs. In one of the better interview segments, the band's singer waxes eloquent about the plight of unemployed British youth and the lack of jobs.

X-Ray Spex was always an acquired taste, a band that I could take or leave depending on the song. Their performance here of their signature "Oh Bondage, Up Yours," however, is loud and obnoxious, frontwoman Poly Styrene spinning 'round the tiny stage while the band makes a lot of noise while standing still as mannequins. The song is crass and "in your face," and a perfect example of punk's manic energy at work.

An interview with the bassist of the Lurkers, another underappreciated band from the early punk era, is a real hoot, the young punk sitting in the living room of his parents' house with mom and pop in attendance. As the TV blares in the background, and his parents sit whit arms folded, he explains the political nature of punk. Another obscure group is the Killjoys, featuring a pre-Dexy's Midnight Runners Kevin Rowland, delivering a lively, guitar-driven spit-n-vinegar style of rock with a sexy female bassist, dual male/female vocals, and an interesting sound that, unlike many of their peers, is both complex and textured…a stiletto, if you will, rather than a bludgeon.

The highlight of Punk In London, though, is the early footage of the Jam and the Clash. The former are shown performing at the 100 Club, rocking "Carnaby Street" with reckless aplomb, clad in spiffy shirts-n-ties. The jackets come off for a raucous take of "In The City," the band working up a sweat on one of their best tunes. As for the latter, the Clash are shown performing in Germany, in a better-lit club with a stage more spacious than the dank, dark black holes that were London clubs at the time. "Police & Thieves," in particular, has a nice sonic resonance to the band's performance.

There are a number of other bands interviewed/performing on Punk In London, including the Adverts, Subway Sect, and the Boomtown Rats. DVD bonuses include an interview with the director, and the Clash's entire performance in Munich, which is a real treat for early punk fans.

Punk In England is the better of the two films, however, Büld taking a more expansive view of the musical culture of the U.K. to include ska, new wave, and other post-punk sounds. Filmed, I believe, a year or more after the initial 1978 documentary, Punk In England is still edited without an overall narrative, but rises above the first film not only because of the inclusion of better talents (the Pretenders and the Specials, along with the Jam and the Clash), but also because the musical segments are longer and more entertaining.

An opening interview with blowhard Bob Geldoff (showing, even at this early date, the preening sense of self-importance than won him his knighthood) is used as a pretext to "catch up with" the class of '77, an English-speaking narrator accounting for the fates of the first wave of British punk bands. Jump to the Clash, the band talking about bringing a greater subtlety to their music before delivering a live version of "Police & Thieves" that is much more mellow, syncopated, and dub-like than that on the first film, a performance more befitting of the song's Jamaican roots.

Büld obviously likes the Jam, but so do I, so no gripes here when he brings 'em back for this second film. Sporting different hair, different suits, and even better music, the band's bombastic "Eton Rifles" blows out the rafters and rattles the audience with an electric performance. Their cover of the Kinks' classic "David Watts" connects the Jam to its musical ancestry, and proves for once and for all that Paul Weller was the Ray Davies of his generation.

The Jams' success in the U.K. would lead to a revival of the Mods in England. During the 1960s portrayed by Quadrophenia, the suit-and-tie Mods would often clash with the leather-jacket-clad Rockers, but the "new Mods" of the 1980s…who would prefer to be called by the dubious moniker of "Glory Boys"…also liked to "suit up" and perform '60s-styled pop/rock in the vein of the Who and the Small Faces. The Mod revival had its own fave bands, and here Secret Affair kicks out their "Time For Action," the band pursuing a garage rock sound with horns blasting like a R&B revue on the Jersey shore.

Punk In England visits Coventry, a "boring industrial town in the middle of the U.K." where ska was re-born for the decade of the '80s. The Specials were the best-known of the new ska revivalists, called "2-tone" (also the band's indie record label) because of the radical multi-racial make-up of the bands. In many ways, the 2-tone pairing of ska's R&B influenced rhythms with the ferocity of punk and the racial aspects served to make bands like the Specials, the Selector, and English Beat more political than their punk rock colleagues.

There are a number of great ska performances here, including the Specials' haunting "Guns of Navarone" and the Selector's studio jam on "Too Much Pressure," the band full of life, the minimalistic lyrics contrasting with the song's rhythmic backdrop. In an interview, Madness, best known stateside for their minor MTV hit "One Step Beyond," talk about replacing the "computer records" of disco with live bands for people to dance to, their lively performances ranking full-stop on stage. In the interview, a band member accurately describes the ska-punk sound as "like white reggae, but faster."

Ian Dury was one of the era's more unlikely stars, his music a curious mix of pub rock, punk, and new wave sensibilities…a drunken, rockin' mess, in other words. His performance with the Clash of "Sweet Gene Vincent" displays the diminutive rocker's rowdy onstage charisma. Performing with his band the Blockheads, "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick" remains one of Dury's best-known and enduring songs, his course talk-sing vocals slurring the nonsensical chorus as cacophonic, icy blasts of sax and a vaguely disco backbeat propel the song forward. Amazingly, the sax player wields two horns at once, albeit briefly, creating a truly otherworldly effect.

The high point of Punk In England is the appearance of the Pretenders in some of the first video footage shot of the band. For a long-time fan of the band, it's great to see all four original members rocking the sassy, swaggering "Brass In Pocket," displaying that even at this early date the band shared an undeniable chemistry. The Pretenders' live cover of the Kinks' "Stop Your Sobbing," which was a big hit in the U.K., is pure magic here, Chrissie Hynde's trembling vocals spot-on while the dual guitars and bass ring clearly above the rumbling sonic boom of Martin Chambers' drums.

A bonus feature on the Punk In England DVD is Büld's documentary "Women In Rock," which seems to be an edited version of his 1992 film Girls Bite Back. With a similar mix of interviews and live performances, the filmmaker expands his vision to include such diverse distaff rockers as Girlschool (heavy metal), Siouxie & the Banshees (Goth), and the Slits (art-punk). Although the first two bands deliver a number of inspired performances, the female members of the Slits spend too much time complaining about the misogynist conceit of the project focusing exclusively on women, while trying in vain to explain their "art."

Truth is, the punk and new wave movements circa 1978-82, opened the doors for female artists in a way unlike anything previous. Because of the barriers that were broken down by Poly Styrene, Gaye Advert, Honey Bane, and other women, a number of fresh, exciting female voices would move to the forefront of pop culture at the dawning of the 1980s. There are other artists that Büld could have included in his documentary – Toyah Wilcox, Lene Lovich, and Kate Bush come to mind – but I'll take it for what it is and be happy with the rare live performances the documentary features.

In the 30+ years since punk-rock first broke with the Damned, the Clash, and the Sex Pistols, the genre has become so rote, so ingrained in our musical culture, that it's easy to forget how edgy, how controversial, daring, and blasphemous the music once was. With Punk In London and Punk In England, Wolfgang Büld provides a reminder of why many of us found, in punk-rock, something to believe in…. (Music Video Distributors)

Related Content: Dave Thompson's Punk Rock Memories

(Click on the DVD covers to buy Punk In London and/or Punk In England from Amazon.com)

Big Star's Radio City Revisited

2009-09-13T16:02:00.004-04:00

The cult band to end all cult bands, Memphis rock legends Big Star were but a brief, albeit blinding flash of white light during the early-70s, the band literally going supernova before disappearing into the darkness of obscurity. The 1978 unauthorized European release of the band's long-shelved third album (alternatively titled Third and/or Sister Lovers) would spark the flame that started the Big Star legend, while the power-pop movement of the late-70s/early-80s, which would help shape bands like the Replacements, the dB's, and R.E.M., would fuel the myth machine and make Big Star's accomplishments seem huge.

Big Star's second album, 1974's Radio City, is widely considered to be the band's magnum opus. A masterpiece of British Invasion-styled melodies, rich harmonies, jangly guitars and Southern soul, Radio City was easily a decade ahead of its time and remains one of the most influential and beloved recordings of the 1970s. Writer/musician Bruce Eaton has taken on the unenviable task of dissecting the album for Continuum's excellent 33 1/3 book series, and he delivers an admirable job of not only cementing the album's long-held status as a masterpiece, but also explaining the charms of Radio City to those who might be unfamiliar with the work.

Eaton takes a straight journalistic approach to Radio City, compiling interviews with the parties involved in the making of the album. As Eaton notes in his preface, the Big Star story is often told by people far outside of the band's personal sphere, and bandleader Alex Chilton typically remains mum, refusing to speak in interviews, when he does them, about the Big Star days that everybody is so interested in. Eaton not only speaks with Chilton – his friendship with the reluctant cult idol spurring some honest admissions – but also with fellow band members Jody Stephens and Andy Hummel, and producer John Fry, among others. In lieu of the late Chris Bell, Eaton gets a hint of the guitarist and songwriter's point of view courtesy of his brother David.

What makes Eaton's Radio City an entertaining as well as informative read, however, is his own engagement and personal relationship with the album. Not unlike a lot of the 33 1/3 series' writers, Eaton's fascination with the Radio City album borderlines on obsessive; unlike any of the other books in the series that I've read, Eaton has actually performed many of the album's songs live as a musician, playing alongside Chilton on more than one occasion. In my mind, this provides Eaton with an important edge, an insight into the creation of the album that others writing about it lack.

Eaton does a fine job of tracing the formation of Big Star in 1971, and the many influences that helped make the band what it was, including Chilton's time with the successful blue-eyed soul outfit the Boxtops during the late-60s. The opening of John Fry's Ardent Studios is discussed in length, the studio an important venue that not only helped shape the sound of Memphis rock and soul music well into the late-70s, but also providing a "hands on" learning experience for the Big Star band members who played around with the equipment and honed their instrumental and songwriting skills.

Most of all, Eaton captures the band chemistry and the emotions that went into the making of Radio City. Founding member Chris Bell had left Big Star before the album's recording in a disagreement over Chilton's growing dominance over the band, but Bell's fingerprints can be felt on songs like "September Gurls" and "Mod Lang" nonetheless. Chilton's raw vocals and fretwork are perfectly complimented by Hummel's bass and Stephen's imaginative percussion. A combination of factors went into creating the magic of Radio Star, and Eaton manages to squeeze a lot of narration about these factors out of the various players.

All in all, with 33 1/3's Radio City, Bruce Eaton captures that most elusive of qualities, "telling a stranger about rock & roll" with his loving literary account of the album, separating decades of myths and misrepresentations with the real story behind this classic band and its essential masterwork. (Continuum Books)

Want more Big Star goodness? Check out Bruce Eaton's Big Star book blog!

(Click on the book cover to buy Radio City from Amazon.com)

Decibel Magazine's Precious Metal

2009-09-13T15:49:00.002-04:00

Nobody – not even Martin Popoff – likes heavy metal like the guys at Decibel magazine. America's premier metal rag, the Decibel gang brings an appropriately populist slant to their musical coverage that is missing in Terrorizer (U.K.) or Brave Words & Bloody Knuckles (Canada). Reading more like a well-written fanzine than a professional (boring) music magazine, Decibel's staff knows its stuff and they write about the music they love.

One of the Reverend's favorite features each month is the extreme music "Hall of Fame." The magazine's staff chooses (agrees on) a classic metal album, one that is at least five years old, and then they interview every band member involved in making said album for the monthly feature. Decibel's rules for induction to its honorary HOF are notoriously and unnecessarily strict – if they can't talk to all of the members that made an album, whether due to death or a refusal to speak – then the album doesn't get in the magazine. Thus, there will be no Pantera, no early Metallica or any Death albums in the Decibel HOF, regardless of their high quality, high-octane music or long-lasting influence on the genre.

Well, it's their game so they get to make the rules, and the truth is that Decibel has done an admirable job over the past half-decade in choosing a wide range and diverse batch of classic metal albums to cover. As of early 2009, as editor Albert Mudrian explains in his introduction to Precious Metal, the magazine had inducted some 50 albums into its HOF, which makes the chore of choosing just 25 albums to include in this book-length collection of interviews quite impressive.

Subtitled "Decibel presents the stories behind 25 Extreme Metal Masterpieces," Precious Metal offers up the magazine's original HOF induction articles and much more. Mudrian has edited and expanded each interview beyond its original form, in some cases doubling the size of the discussion. As any old music journalist could tell you, any artist interview results in a lot of unused content that won't fit into a print publication, so the Decibel crew dusted off their moldy micro-cassettes and found some more quotes to include in these interviews. Fans of the magazine will find that the chapters in Precious Metal provide a lot more insight and information into each album than was originally presented in the magazine.

More impressive, however, are the album choices made by Mudrian and his metal-lovin' staff. Music fans (and far too many critics) that don't know anything about heavy metal too readily dismiss the genre as a one-trick pony, nothing more than loud guitars and violent lyrics shouted by hirsute vocalists. Yeah, to be honest, there's some of that in heavy metal, as any fan of Norwegian death metal could tell you, but there's so much more as well. Heavy metal, like any musical genre, is made up of various sounds and textures, from Black Sabbath's riff-heavy drone and Slayer's brutal thrash to the desert-honed doom-metal of Kyuss and the impossibly fluid math-metal of Meshuggah.

All of the aforementioned folks and more are represented in the pages of Precious Metal, along with seminal albums from bands like Entombed, Paradise Lost, Monster Magnet, and Opeth, among many others. I was delightfully surprised by the informative and insightful nature of these interviews, the various band members sometimes using the occasion to grind old axes with their former friends, other times criticizing the record industry biases that often marginalize metal music. All of the interviews are interesting, and many are downright enlightening, and the Decibel staff – prolific writer J. Bennett in particular – do a uniformly good job at coaxing the story behind each album out of the musicians.

I was happy to find that I already owned about 1/3 of the albums included in Precious Metal, and the chapters on several others have motivated me to buy copies of those albums as well. At its heart, that is what the staff of Decibel has attempted to accomplish with Precious Metal….share their favorite heavy metal albums with thousands of like-minded readers. The enthusiasm and knowledge shown by the writers is infectious, as important as the albums themselves because if we don't honor and champion these albums, they will drop down into the rabbit hole of obscurity. If you're a fan of any form of heavy metal, you'll like Precious Metal. The Rev says "check it out!" (Da Capo Press)

(Click on the book cover to buy Precious Metal from Amazon.com)

Precious Metal's Hall of Fame Inductees

Black Sabbath - Heaven and Hell
Diamond Head - Lightning to the Nations
Celtic Frost - Morbid Tales
Slayer - Reign in Blood
Napalm Death - Scum
Repulsion - Horrified
Morbid Angel - Altars of Madness
Obituary - Cause of Death
Entombed - Left Hand Path
Paradise Lost - Gothic
Carcass - Necroticism Descanting the Insalubrious
Cannibal Corpse - Tomb of the Mutilated
Eyehategod - Take as Needed for Pain
Darkthrone - Transilvanian Hunger
Kyuss - Welcome to Sky Valley
Meshuggah - Destroy Erase Improve
Monster Magnet - Dopes to Infinity
At the Gates - Slaughter of the Soul
Opeth - Orchid
Down - NOLA
Emperor - In the Nightside Eclipse
Sleep - Jerusalem
The Dillinger Escape Plan - Calculating Infinity
Botch - We Are the Romans
Converge - Jane Doe

The Emitt Rhodes Recordings (1969-1973)

2009-09-08T06:54:00.003-04:00

A phenomenal talent who would be battered by the music biz much the same way that a rowboat might be tossed around like a hurricane, singer, songwriter, and musician Emitt Rhodes was, perhaps, destined to become on the more enigmatic cult artists in rock music. Unlike tragic figures like Tim Buckley and Nick Drake who would die young before fulfilling their full artistic promise, or a talent like Pink Floyd's Syd Barrett, who would burn out long before fading away, Rhodes simply walked away from it all, leaving behind four sparkling and forward-reaching albums of pure pop genius.

Rhodes' story is not unique, although the circumstances and experiences that pushed his artistic development certainly were. Somewhat of a child prodigy, Rhodes was playing professionally in bands in the L.A. area at the age of 14, and by the time he was old enough to get his California driver's license, he was writing beautifully-crafted songs and fronting the folk-influenced baroque pop outfit Merry-Go-Round.

The Merry-Go-Round enjoyed a brief but moderately successful career circa 1966-69, scoring two regional hits with the Rhodes' songs "Live" (which would later be covered by the Bangles almost 20 years later) and "You're A Very Lovely Woman." The acclaimed British folk-rock band Fairport Convention thought enough of Rhodes' songwriting chops to cover the band's "Time Will Show The Wiser" on their 1968 debut album, but by 1969 the writing was on the wall as the Merry-Go-Round's slight commercial fortunes waned and Rhodes turned his attentions towards a solo career.

Still owing A&M Records an album under the terms of the Merry-Go-Round's contract with the label, Rhodes went into the studio with members of The Wrecking Crew, studio pros like Hal Blaine and Larry Knechtel, to cut original material to compliment a handful of leftover Merry-Go-Round tracks. The resulting album was titled The American Dream, and although Rhodes completed recording the album in 1969, it would be a couple of years before A&M would release it…more about which later.

The American Dream album is where the limited-edition career retrospective The Emitt Rhodes Recordings (1969-1973) begins, the two-disc set kicking off with the original album in its entirety. More than its entirety, really, as the song "Saturday Night" would be pulled from subsequent pressings of The American Dream in 1971 in favor of the minor Merry-Go-Round hit "You're A Very Lovely Woman." Both songs are included here, and both are equally deserving of inclusion, the former a wistful recollection of days passed and love lost that sounds like the Byrds minus McGuinn's 12-string, the latter an exotic fusing of L.A. pop and vague Middle Eastern musical themes, the tension between the two matched by Rhodes' acrobatic lyrics and the band's delicious harmonies.

On the whole, The American Dream is really just a more mature Merry-Go-Round album, featuring a similar sort of pop sensibilities while showcasing Rhodes' growing songwriting savvy and a fuller, more textured sonic palette. With its lush instrumentation and socially-conscious lyrics, the jangling "Mother Earth" is a wonderful example of the baroque pop style, while the Beatlesque "Textile Factory" displays a wider sense of rhythm and style with a slight countryish twang and touches of bluegrass-styled fiddleplay. The complex "In The Days Of The Old" takes the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's musical breakthroughs a step further, matching fantasy-infused metaphorical lyrics with a spry soundtrack and a clever vocal turn.

After "paying his bill," as it were, with A&M Records, Rhodes scraped up a little cash and purchased an old Ampex four-track tape deck, sticking it in his parent's garage with the rest of his musical gear. Transforming himself into a one-man-band in order to better control the final sound of his recordings, Rhodes taught himself to play the instruments he didn't already know. Writing prolifically at this time, Rhodes cranked out demos of some songs, scored a label deal with ABC-Dunhill, and subsequently recorded his (true) self-titled debut at home…lending a whole new meaning to the term "garage rock."

Released in 1970 by ABC-Dunhill, the Emitt Rhodes album – considered by many to be the songwriter's masterpiece, and easily recognizable by its stylized cover showing Rhodes gazing through mottled windowpanes – was a twelve-song collection of finely-crafted pop-rock created entire by Rhodes and evincing a delightful whimsy to go along with its imaginative instrumentation and intelligent songwriting. Rhodes' solo debut is often compared to Paul McCartney's songwriting efforts, but in my mind Rhodes took the best of John Lennon and Paul McCartney and put his own unique spin on their trademark style.

For instance, "With My Face On The Floor" sounds positively McCartneyesque, from Rhodes' lofty vocals right through the pop/rock instrumentation. But Rhodes displays his own uncanny sense of popcraft, infusing the song with some tasty guitar licks, unusual changes in direction, and an infectious chorus. "Lullabye" is slightly more than a minute of pure melodic nirvana, Rhodes' warm vocals caressing the lyrics, accompanied by only a fine thread of guitar strum. The album's single, "Fresh As A Daisy," is a jaunty pop tune with an infectious tick-tock beat, warm vocals stuck high in the mix, and a lovely chorus while "You Take The Dark Out Of The Night" is provided a muted, wall-of-sound production that barely conceals Rhodes' expressive vocals and taut fretwork.

The success of Emitt Rhodes, the album creeping into the Billboard "Top Thirty" chart at #29, forced A&M Records to reconsider The American Dream. The label dusted the album off and pushed it into the stores in early 1971, perhaps confusing Rhodes' growing legion of fans, and competing with his own subsequently released Mirror album.

And here is where the Emitt Rhodes' story starts to get a little dicey, but not entirely unfamiliar for dozens…if not hundreds of musicians that have experience similarly lugheaded and stupid corporate hijinx. Despite the fact that Rhodes' self-titled ABC-Dunhill album took close to a year of dedicated studio work to craft, the executive braintrust at the label wanted a follow-up a mere six months later, as per the ridiculous terms of Rhodes' contract (which, yes, he signed and thus agreed to, but really, what's the hurry, bub?!).

Rather than support Rhodes' creative efforts and nurture the growth of a talented songwriter and performer that could have been a virtual cash cow for a label notoriously lacking in capital, ABC-Dunhill instead suspended Rhodes' contract and sued the poor schlub for $250k, a sum no doubt several times what they'd paid him in royalties for sales of the Emitt Rhodes album. Hurried, and no doubt frenzied, Rhodes' delivered the flawed but still classic pop/rock collection Mirror.

Released in 1971 and going up against his The American Dream album in the market, Mirror may have been conceived and created in a rush relative to his debut, but it contains a lot of fine material nonetheless. "Birthday Lady" is a spry bit o' lofty rock & roll cheap thrills that helped usher in a more sophisticated era in pop music. The introspective "Better Side Of Life" displays not only Rhodes' warm vocals, but his fully-emerged songwriting skills as well. Intelligently worded and backed by a simple but effective melody, the song is a rock-solid example of Rhodes' talents.

Mirror's title track is another musically complex showcase for Rhodes' increasingly sensitive and insightful wordplay, his lyrics complimented by a dense soundtrack and a tight thread of guitar that brings a sense of urgency to the performance. The lovely "Golden Child Of God" features gossamer strings, a chameleon-like changing of sounds, multi-tracked harmonies, and an ambitious Rhodes vocal performance. "Take You Away" treads into Crosby, Still, Nash & Young territory with folkish roots, clashing vocals, and a textured guitar performance worthy of Stephen Stills.

Overall, the ten songs Rhodes created for Mirror are darker, more inward-looking, and teetering on the edge of emotional meltdown. With little or no support from the label (they sued him, remember?), Mirror barely scraped onto the Billboard Top 200 album chart, and ABC-Dunhill ramped up their squeeze tactics on the singer/songwriter. As the lawsuit rolled on, and the pressures mounted, Rhodes' took most of 1972 to create the album that would become his swansong, Farewell To Paradise.

Farewell To Paradise, released in 1973, would be Rhodes' most ambitious collection yet. In many ways, the songs illustrated the singer's growing disillusionment with the music business and his pursuit of rock & roll stardom. Again recording entirely in his home studio and playing every instrument, Rhodes stretches his talents even further than ever before. The album-opening "Warm Self-Sacrifice" includes Rhodes' first use of the violin, the instrument adding an air of weariness to an otherwise up-tempo arrangement. Lyrically, though, Rhodes is beginning to show the strain, a certain amount of self-defeat and self-doubt evident across several of the songs on Farewell To Paradise.

It may have been Rhodes' final album, but the dozen songs on Farewell To Paradise display no deterioration of talent. Quite the contrary, actually, as the aforementioned "Warm Self-Sacrifice" and songs like the bluesy "See No Evil," with its baroque pop undertones, or the bluegrass/country-styled "Blue Horizon" showing a further expansion of not only style but performance as well. The latter, particularly, is a wistful look back at what might have been, a metaphorical acceptance of Rhodes' future departure from a flagging career.

"Only Lovers Decide" may be one of the best songs that Rhodes ever wrote, a folk-influenced musing on relationships with brilliant imagery and a poetic sensibility floating above a beautiful, albeit dark-hued soundtrack with masterful piano, haunting strings, and strains of provocative fretwork. The rollicking "Bad Man" is an unabashed rocker with a slight boogie beat and Rhodes' understated vocals while the title track is a perfect snapshot of Rhodes' talents, blending a multi-textured musical backdrop with his typically fluid wordplay and a difficult, but ultimately successful vocal turn.

The Emitt Rhodes Recordings (1969-1973) also includes "Tame The Lion," a non-LP track released as a single by ABC-Dunhill in 1972 as a stopgap before Farewell To Paradise was completed. A timely anti-war song with vocals reminiscent of Paul McCartney and a song structure similar to some of Paul Simon's later work, "Tame The Lion" is a good song with clever turns of a phrase supported by an up-tempo soundtrack and impressive, hard-rocking guitarplay. A companion piece, of sorts, with "Those That Die" from Farewell To Paradise, the song woulda, coulda, shoulda been a huge hit with just a small push from Rhodes' under-appreciative label.

Following the disappointing lack of success of Farewell To Paradise, Rhodes simply walked away from his recorded career at the age of 24. A veteran of nearly a decade in the competitive and pressure-filled trenches of the pop-rock rat-race, Rhodes would subsequently become a producer and A&R representative for Elektra and Asylum Records. Later, he would retreat to his own recording studio, built in a house across the street from his childhood home, where Rhodes would record other artists while reportedly (and hopefully) amassing a wealth of unreleased songs.

Through the ensuing years, Emitt Rhodes has been saddled with a sort of "savior of pop" albatross that has only added to his cult status among a growing crowd of fans. The Internet has made legends out of more than one obscure musician, but in Rhodes' case the adoration and renewed attention is certainly well-deserved. Listening to his early-70s recordings today, one must marvel not only at the technical proficiency displayed by the trio of ABC-Dunhill releases, recorded in (primitive, by today's standards) Rhodes' home studio, but also at the warmth and density of the sound that he achieved.

Throw in Rhodes' prescient songwriting skills (really, all that stuff that you've heard folks like Paul Simon, Harry Nilsson, and Matthew Sweet, to name but three, create in the late-70s and '80s is but a reflection of what Rhodes had already done) and his overlooked and often under-appreciated instrumental talents, and you have the makings of an artist that was decades ahead of his time.

The Emitt Rhodes Recordings (1969-1973) collects all four of the singer/songwriter's long out-of-print albums, as well as that one lone single release – 48 songs total – into an impressive two-CD set complete with pristine remastered sound, and a CD booklet with informative liner notes and a handful of rare photos. If you're a fan of Beatlesque pop, and you're not familiar with Emitt Rhodes, you owe it to yourself to discover one of the 20th century's most talented and unheralded cult legends, an artist who is just now beginning to receive the acclaim he earned almost four decades ago. (Hip-O Select)

Many thanks to Scott Schinder for his informative liner notes, which provided much of the historical information used in this review.

(Click on the CD cover to buy The Emitt Rhodes Recordings from Amazon.com)

Remaindering the Sixties: By the Time We Got to Woodstock

2009-08-26T17:13:00.002-04:00

With the recent 40th anniversary celebration of the Woodstock Festival, all of the hype, hoopla, and myth of the era came bubbling back up in the public consciousness like a funky burrito at bedtime. The already heavily-marketed event has experienced the expected slew of revamped CD and DVD releases (and accompanying fawning reviews), while timely books try to put the "importance" of the festival in proper context. Plus, you Target shoppers will be able to pick up great deals on overstock Woodstock merch in the weeks to come….

Music journalist Bruce Pollock's latest tome is called By the Time We Got to Woodstock, subtitled "The Great Rock 'n' Roll Revolution of 1969." Music fans turning to Pollock for a little insight into the Woodstock phenomena will be sorely disappointed because, in truth, he spends very little time actually discussing the festival and a lot of pages doing, well…I'm not really sure what the hell he's doing, but he's doing something that he understandably felt was important enough to share with the rest of us.

The main thrust of Pollock's book-length treatise is that the year 1969 was an important turning point in the history of rock music, a radical changing of the guard that is represented by – but not restricted to – the Woodstock Music & Art Fair, held in the quaint upstate New York village of Bethel in mid-August '69. It's an interesting premise, and not totally unbelievable in its audacity. After all, the storied festival aside, a lot of great music was released during the year, including influential debut albums from the MC5 and the Stooges.

To make his point, Pollock has divided the book into two widely differing sections, the first being "No Easy Way Down," which attempts to portray the period from Nixon's election to the Presidency in November 1968 through the Kent State massacre in May 1970 as representing not only the literal and figurative "end of the '60s," but also the symbolic end of innocence as well. With the venal, paranoid, vindictive Nixon in office the counter-culture came into the gunsights of the administration, while other events, such as the Manson Family slayings and atrocities in Viet Nam, served to sour the milk-n-honey of the Flower Children into something approximating the pink-flavored medicine your mom used to pour down your throat.

The seven chapters that make up the book's first section, "No Easy Way Down," are, truthfully, marginally entertaining in a prurient way, even if Pollock's machinegun prose often seems to be the literary equivalent of the man-child Stewart on Mad TV exclaiming "look what I can do!" He drops a lot of names, throws out a few interesting ideas, fleshes out nothing, and provides little context or insight beyond outlining a loose chronological timeline of the decay of the Peace & Love Generation.

If the first half of By the Time We Got to Woodstock prompts the reader to continue with their ride, if only to see where Pollock, the conductor, is taking them, the second section of the book is the inevitable trainwreck at the hands of the drunken engineer. Titled "Opiates for the People," after the old Karl Marx canard "Die religion...ist das opium des volkes," music is the focus here…specifically the music of 1969. Or is it? With the first chapter in the section, "Three Minutes of Heaven," Pollock invests a lot of ink talking about songs from both 1968 and '70, bookending his intended target with a nearly non-stop barrage of song titles and artist's names that tax the strength of even the most fanatical among the pop/rock masses.

In attempting to explain that 1969 is the line in the sand where the three-minute, AM radio-friendly pop song lost its mojo while the ascension of FM radio and underground "album tracks" would alter the face of modern music, Pollock gets lost in the quicksand of his own making. His premise, on its face, is false – as a teen in suburban Nashville circa the early-70s, I remember quite vividly the still-thriving singles scene as played out daily on both the city's WJET and WLAC AM stations. A new generation of soul and R&B artists would replace the Motown-bred hitmakers of the '60s with fresh blood and chart-topping hits well into the end of the decade (and the dreaded rise of disco).

In fact, I would submit that the fondly-remembered 45rpm single, a staple of AM (and some FM) stations throughout the decade of the 1970s, wouldn't be dealt a fatal blow until the launch of MTV in 1981 and the subsequent alleged "mercy-killing" of vinyl by compact discs later in the decade, both phenomena dealing much more damage to the "singles" concept than FM radio ever did (and thus dismantling much of Pollock's argument).

The second chapter of section two, "The Joy of Segues," tackles the FM radio side of the musical equation (naturally), with the same scattershot lack of finesse as the AM radio chapter. A self-indulgent morass of band names and album titles and long-forgotten songs ("see what I can do!"), he breaks the argument down into several bite-size concepts such as "The Dylan Influence" and "The Guitar Invasion," in order to squeeze more mileage out of his premise which is…what? That AOR was the commercialization of free-form FM radio, when in reality the free-form wonderground that he describes barely existed outside of NYC/LA/San Fran and maybe a handful of other large metro areas. For most of us, it was AOR from Jump Street, and it only worsened from there.

The last chapter of By the Time We Got to Woodstock is "Sky Church," Jimi Hendrix's favored term for the outdoor concert performance experience. After mentioning the Woodstock Festival several times throughout the book, Pollock finally provides the reader with a little gristle-n-bone, if little actual meat, on the event. Overshadowing the alleged "peace and love" vibe on the weekend mudfest in Bethel, however, is the dark tragedy of Altamont, held a continent away in December 1969. During the Rolling Stones' performance at the free concert, several members of the Hell's Angels outlaw motorcycle "club" beat a gun-wielding young black man to death with pool cues.

To Pollock, the seemingly random violence of Altamont symbolized the end of the era, and the drawing of the final curtain on a generation that came of age during the tumultuous decade of the '60s. As one who grew up with, rode with, and drank with outlaw bikers since before I developed acne and high school awkwardness, I can state authoritatively that any violence committed by outlaw motorcycle enthusiasts is not "random," but rather part and parcel of the biker's lifestyle and self-image. When you're the biggest, baddest Cro-Mags riding the blacktop, violence finds you, and the hiring of Hell's Angels as security for the festival is proof that drugs had addled Jerry Garcia's brain.

Truth is, from the deification of outlaw bikers by people intelligent enough to have known better, to the war in Viet Nam, to student protests and the inevitable crackdown on same, violence is woven throughout the decade. If one accepts that as a given, then the myth of the "peace & love" generation dwindles down to a few idealistic dreamers and an accompanying generation of Baby Boomers who have accepted the fable as a way to enrich and possibly stave off their own fast-approaching mortality.

From start to finish, By the Time We Got to Woodstock is a mess, talking a lot but saying very little…kind of like a Vanilla Ice song. I can't quibble with Pollock's taste in music – with his final chapter, "Hello/Goodbye" – he name checks artists as diverse as Springsteen, Kate Bush, Tom Petty, Patti Smith, Warren Zevon, XTC, and Motorhead, among many others, all of which are also personal faves of mine. But seldom has somebody taken so much time to say so little, and have it published for our reading enjoyment.

The 1960s were a period of change for popular music, 1969 maybe more so than most, but a similar argument could be made for a number of other years as well (such as 1977 and the British punk revolution, or again in 1981 with the MTV generation). As the decade wore on, it became apparent that there was real money to be made in rock music (by the artists and the record labels), and the gradual evolution of the genre from one largely created by a smallish but cliquish group of middle class musicians to one of working class balladry started with the British Invasion, took a foothold in the states with John Fogerty's Creedence Clearwater Revival, and by the early-1970s had exploded.

Rock music took an ugly left turn beginning in 1970 as a disgruntled rabble of barely-educated hellraisers largely took over the genre, resulting in the sins and delights of critically-reviled genres like arena rock, heavy metal, and punk. But you won't need Bruce Pollock to tell you about any of this…save the $20 you'd spend on a copy of By the Time We Got to Woodstock and instead buy a couple of CDs, like Spirit's Clear, Creedence Clearwater Revival's Green River, and/or the MC5's Kick Out The Jams. Any of these albums will give you a better idea of the year 1969 than will this book. (Backbeat Books)

(Click on the book cover to buy By the Time We Got to Woodstock if you really want it....)

Pete Berwick's Just Another Day In Hell

2009-08-16T16:06:00.004-04:00

It was yer typical music biz deal – down & dirty and without witnesses. I rendezvoused with Petey the Clown in the alley behind Chewy's Waffles-n-Fish, third garbage can from the passed-out drunk, as per our usual agreement. The deal was for ten-large, small bills with no consec numbers, for which I'd pen guaranteed award-winning liner notes that would bring his music the attention that it so sorely deserved.

I don't rightly remember where I first met Pete Berwick…might have been at the car wash, in the rows of one of Nashville's many pawn shops, or maybe during a barfight in some back-alley Music City dive. You know what they say about the '80s…if you can remember the decade, well….

What I do remember is that Berwick was the real deal, singing the truth to a mud-crusted, foggy-thinking Music Row establishment too deaf to hear the honesty in the guy's rough-hewn vocals, too rabbit-scared to face the reality portrayed by Pete's lyrics. Hell, they all but crucified Steve Earle back in the day – there's no way that they'd embrace Berwick's heresies. The country music biz might have preached "traditionalism" back in the day, but when faced with an artist too proud and talented to genuflect at the altar of Garth, they ran like Little Bo Peep and her sheep in the opposite direction.

Fast-forward to 2009 and Just Another Day In Hell. Nashville's star-making machinery routinely crushes the souls and dashes the hopes of country music hopefuls, but in Pete Berwick's case, they couldn't stomp out the man's dreams. Here he is with a new album, his best yet, bringing blood, sweat, and balls back to a country music genre sorely lacking in all three.

In Nashville, conventional wisdom says, it "all begins with a song." Problem is, too many Music Row tunesmiths are pets kept on a short leash by the artists they hope will record their songs. Berwick pens his own reality and, much like Hank, Waylon, Townes or Steve, his songs are inhabited by heartbreak, humor, insight, and emotion.

For instance, consider the Dylanesque remembrance that is "I Fought With Angels." Fraught with regret, the song's bone-chilling weariness is reinforced by searing guitar and a high lonesome harp. Berwick's protagonist has seemingly all but surrendered, waving the white flag of regret to the world. Gruff vocals slurring sad lyrics, Berwick's brilliant wordplay describes a lifetime of Quixotic tilting at windmills. As the guitar screams out its tortured, steely notes one realizes that this is a song of defiance, not defeat, and no matter how many ass-kicking's the song's protagonist endures, he's going to get up, time after time, to wade back into the fray.

The Western gunslinger flavor of "While I Die" is supported by tremolo-soaked fretwork, a martial rhythm, and Berwick's best Marty Robbins-styled vocals. The lyrics are brilliantly constructed, and the wiry, raga-flavored six-string riff in the background soaks the entire song in delightful pathos. Like much of John Prine's best material, "Cold Wind (Baby Come Home)" provides a perfect balance between the simplicity of song and the complexity of emotion. Berwick's vivid imagery is matched by a fine, heartbroken vocal turn and accompanied by Rick Devries' inspired slide-guitarwork.

The ribald "Hello Hand" is scatologically funny in its embrace of Onanism, Berwick's clever double-and-triple-entendre wordplay barely concealing the heartache and loneliness beneath the song's bravado. Some might find it offensive but, in truth, it's as honest a country song as has ever been written, and better than 99.999% of the dreck that has been spit up by Music Row's feeble scribes over the past couple decades. "Roadkill Blues" evokes a similarly-skewed sense of humor, Ma Nature versus modern industrial society in a song that is neither preachy nor strident, just poetically observational.

Revisiting the hilariously dark-hued comedy of "Standing At The Gates" from his 2002 album Only Bleeding, Berwick revs up the tune with a locomotive rockabilly fever, his vocals less punkish than the original, with more twang but with no less energy or attitude. The song is still a Dangerfieldian treatise on the loser's life, with a bleak tongue-in-cheek humor that only partially conceals the truth, appealing to the misanthrope in all of us with driving drumbeats and scorched-earth guitar.

The title track, "Just Another Day In Hell," is a wry jail song in the mold of Johnny Cash or Merle Haggard, crossing the swaggering twang-ridden riffs of James Burton with the cowpunk fervor of Jason & the Scorchers. Berwick deftly illustrates that there's more than one kind of prison cell, and that the bars that keep us in are sometimes those of our own making. "Busted In Kentucky" walks the hallowed classic country-rock ground between the Flying Burrito Brothers and David Allen Coe, a true-to-life story-song that exhibits Berwick's fine eye for detail and biting wit, his talking blues-styled vocals delivered above a shit-kicking beat.

That's just about half the songs from Just Another Day In Hell – the rest are every bit as good, each and every one delivered with a reckless country spirit that is equal parts juke-joint soul and honky-tonk energy. Berwick still rocks too hard for Nashville, but isn't that why God and Gram Parsons created alt-country music?

No, I don't remember where I met Pete Berwick, but I'm glad that I did. Pete and his music keep getting better with age, and Just Another Day In Hell sounds like a cold beer at the end of 500 miles of broken road…it's just that damn good!

Portions of this review were used to create the liner notes for Just Another Day In Hell…so sue me!

(Click on the CD cover to buy Just Another Day In Hell from Amazon.com)

"Standing At The Gates"

Dimebag Darrell & the Black Tooth Grin

2009-06-24T06:37:00.002-04:00

Black Tooth Grin, subtitled "The High Life, Good Times, And Tragic End of 'Dimebag' Darrell Abbott," is Dallas, Texas area journalist Zac Crain's "unauthorized" biography of the heavy metal guitarist, and seemingly Crain's first published book. Although Crain jumps into the project with great enthusiasm and passion, the result is a somewhat flawed and superficial work that places a lot of emphasis on the "music" and not enough on the "journalism" that would make for a great biography. As such, Black Tooth Grin has elements of the good, the bad, and the ugly within its 300+ pages.

The Good

When you boil it all down, Black Tooth Grin is really Crain's attempt to make some sort of sense out of the tragic and senseless death of "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott, which both begins and ends this story. Abbott, born and raised in Arlington, Texas, was a youthful six-string prodigy that, along with his drumming brother Vinnie, formed the influential '90s-era band Pantera.

Crain gets into the nuts-and-bolts of the Abbott brothers' early family life in Arlington, focusing on the teenaged "Diamond" Darrell Lance, as he was originally known, and his love of hard rock bands like Van Halen and Kiss. The book does a fine job of presenting the genesis of Abbott's lifelong infatuation with the guitar, covering the many regional contests that he won (to the point where he was banned from competing by the age of 15), as well as the formation of his earliest bands with brother Vinnie.

It is with the Pantera years – the bulk of the Abbott brothers' lives at the time, really – that Crain really shines in his narrative. From the band's earliest incarnation as a glam-metal "hair" band like Motley Crue or Poison during the 1980s, through its evolution into a lean, mean, metal-stomping machine behind vocalist Phil Anselmo during the '90s, Crain describes the many bumps in the road and the obstacles overcome by Pantera in becoming, perhaps, the best-known metal outfit during the alt-rock years, one that influenced an entire wave of metal bands during the last part of the decade.

Crain also delves into the pressures of the moderate fame and fortune enjoyed by the band, as well as vocalist Anselmo's drug addiction and subsequent alienation from the Abbott brothers, a schism that would eventually destroy Pantera. Of particular interest is the descriptions offered of Abbott by his many friends and associates. Regardless of the level of fame that the guitarist achieved, and the many accolades that were heaped upon his brilliant guitar virtuosity, Dimebag remained relatively nonplussed and admirably humble.

In the end, the Abbott brothers and Anselmo suffered through an acrimonious divorce that destroyed the band, with Darrell and Vinnie on one side of the split, vocalist Anselmo and the band's bassist, Rex "Rocker" Brown, on the other. The Abbotts would later form the band Damageplan and begin the long, slow slog through the club circuit all over again. Unlike many club bands, however, they scored a major label deal quite rapidly on the basis of their previous success, and released their lone album, New Found Power, just months before Abbott's death.

As many who are familiar with Dimebag Darrell already know, the good-hearted guitarist met his fate on stage at a club in Columbus, Ohio while performing with Damageplan on December 8, 2004. Abbott was shot to death during the band's first song by some deranged individual, a truly fucked-up wigger who, minutes after killing Abbott and three other people, was shot to death by police. We'll never know why the gun-toting former jarhead targeted Dimebag, but this seemingly random act of violence sent shockwaves throughout the heavy metal community at the time.

The Bad

Far too much of Black Tooth Grin reads like a Pantera fanzine. Several subjects are revisited over and over again to the point of absurdity. While Abbott's infamous Halloween parties deserve mentioning, maybe even the special "bonus" chapter they get, but Black Tooth Grin offers three lengthy passages on these events, as well as numerous mentions throughout the text. Throw in all of the other party descriptions, and the book (unfairly?) paints a rather two-dimensional portrait of Abbott.

Another cavil that I have is the repeated assertions that "genetics" had something to do with Abbott's talent and fame, which I find ridiculous. Crain repeats this inanity in describing Vinnie's drumming skills as well. Although Jerry Abbott, the brothers' father, was a songwriter with a few impressive credits, and a producer on the bottom rung of the country music industry, there is no real evidence that the elder Abbott's genetic contribution had much of anything to do with the brothers' musical talents.

Far more important to the brothers' development into world-class musicians – which, thankfully, Crain goes into in depth – is the support provided by Jerry and Carolyn Abbott for Darrell and Vinnie's musical endeavors. Whereas dad provided session time at the recording studio that he ran, managed the band in its early days and, in fact, drove the fledging covers-band that was Pantera to its initial gigs, mom provided a stable home environment and the sort of loving support necessary for a prodigy like Darrell to drop out of school and sit in his room playing guitar all day.

Although Black Tooth Grin is an "unauthorized biography," Crain gained access to many of Abbott's friends and associates, and uses published interviews with the guitarist, his brother, and other musicians to fill in the blanks. Too often, however, these various people have little or nothing to say of importance beyond remembering boozy days and nights spent with the guitar great.

There are exceptions, to be sure, such as longtime-friend Buddy "Blaze" Webster, or Larry English of Washburn Guitars, who deliver insightful remembrances of the man and his talents. Far too often, though, Crain fails to challenge his interview subjects to say something really interesting about their relationships with Abbott. I'm not looking for scandal or the sordid details of what was seemingly a life lived in public, just something more than "we got drunk together once," which leads us to…

…and the Ugly

Crain spends waaayyy too many pages and a bucket of ink fretting over Abbott's drinking habits, even including an entire chapter at the end of the book about such in a futile attempt to place Dimebag's prodigious hydration in proper context. Zac, buddy, we get it…Abbott drank a hell of a lot of hooch. Yes, he may have been a functional alcoholic, and it's obvious from the war stories told by various interviewees that booze played a major part in the guitarist's life.

But Abbott's drinking had absolutely no role in his tragic fate, and its effect on his music is questionable at best. That any rock star – much less a heavy metal guitarist – drinks to excess is not really surprising, and mostly irreverent to the narrative of Abbott's life. Give us a few more pages about what Dimebag thought about his music, or the creative process, or playing the guitar, or whatever and less about him serving up trays of shots to friends and sycophants.

Weighing all these factors together, I'd still have to recommend Black Tooth Grin to both fans of Dimebag Darrell/Pantera and to anybody even mildly interested in the work of this once-in-a-generation six-string talent. Although Crain too often comes across as the same sort of star-crossed fanboy that he frequently describes Abbott to be, instead of a serious biographer, he does a decent job of capturing the highs and lows of Dimebag's life nonetheless. Crain is an engaging writer, and Black Tooth Grin a quick, entertaining read that captures the essence of Dimebag Darrell Abbot…but it also could have done so much more. (Da Capo Press)

(Click on the book or CD cover to buy from Amazon.com)

Dave Thompson's Punk Rock Memories

2009-06-14T17:30:00.003-04:00

British music journalist Dave Thompson is a veteran author of rock 'n' roll biographies, penning dozens of books on folks like Iggy Pop, Kiss, Nirvana's Kurt Cobain, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, among many others over the past couple of decades. As frequently as he has turned his insight towards dissecting the life and art of others, however, this is the first time that Thompson has used his undeniable talent to look inward at his own life and experience.

Subtitled "True Adventures on the Front Lines of Punk 1976-1977," Thompson's excellent London's Burning is, as he calls it, a "memoir" without "too much me" included. Ostensibly the story of a year in the life of British punk rock, the teenage Thompson had a front seat to the birth and evolution of punk from a provincial underground phenomenon to a worldwide cultural revolution.

To tell this tale, Thompson relies on his own memories, and those of the many musicians that he has interviewed through the years, as well as those he spoke with specifically for the book. Beginning with the death of the glam-rock era and the lingering descent of pub-rock into obsolescence, Thompson's personalized history of the first stirrings of punk is developed from his youthful vinyl obsession and eager attendance at dozens of shows by early versions of bands like the Sex Pistols, the Adverts, the Stranglers, and the Damned, as well as his friendships with many of the music-makers.

Thompson marks the flashpoint of British punk rock with the first performance of American rocker Patti Smith, her powerful, primal sound launching a hundred bands. Although the story touches upon many of the aforementioned and better-known punk outfits, Thompson takes great care to include obscure (but no less talented or fondly remembered) bands like the Arrows, Radio Stars, and Heavy Metal Kids in his exploration of the music. Sometimes his stories are funny, sometimes poignant, and sometimes even harrowing as Thompson describes the racism present in mid-to-late-70s England, as well as the violence that would come to be leveled against anybody perceived as being a "punk rocker."

Thompson is being only a little disingenuous when he calls London's Burning a memoir without too much "me" because, in truth, it is the presence of his younger self, and that experience that is central to the book's immense charm. In remembering his youthful love of the music, and unbridled enthusiasm for the changes wrought by punk's ascendance, Thompson also reminds us of why the "Class of '77" was so important in the overall evolution of rock music. The stories and memories of the assembled musicians are vital to the story here, but it is Thompson's interaction and role as a documentarian that drives the book.

British punk rock circa 1977-79 has been covered in abundance, almost to the point of absurdity, by dozens of books and hundreds, if not thousands of magazine articles and even compilation albums. Few have the firsthand knowledge and experience of Dave Thompson, though, and the talent to express it so succinctly and in an entertaining manner. Nobody has the stories that Thompson has accumulated, making London's Burning the final word in '70s British punk rock. If you're an old-school punk fan, you should definitely check this one out….(Chicago Review Press)

Related: The Reverend's review of Thompson's I Hate New Music in Blurt Magazine

(Click on the book cover to buy London's Burning from Amazon.com)

Heaven & Hell's The Devil You Know

2009-06-14T14:30:00.004-04:00

A couple years back, I believe 'twas, the Ronnie James Dio-era incarnation of Black Sabbath (i.e. 1979-1982) got together to pimp Rhino's freshly-released The Dio Years compilation. The two-disc set included some of the best musical finery from the line-up's two early-80s sets, Heaven & Hell and Mob Rules, as well as a few things from the Dio-fronted obligatory live album (Live Evil) and their "reunion" misstep, 1992's Dehumanizer.

The Dio Years also included three honkin' new tunes recorded specifically for the set, the foursome of Dio, guitarist Toni Iommi, bassist Geezer Butler, and drummer Vinny Appice using the band name Heaven & Hell (after their first album together, geddit?) because, allegedly, Sharon Osborne refused them the use of the holy, and seemingly priceless Black Sabbath name. The new tunes fell on receptive ears, Heaven & Hell went out on tour in support of The Dio Years, and they found a modicum of acceptance from hidebound Sab fans, subsequently squeezing out a well-received live album.

Which, in a roundabout way, brings us to The Devil You Know, the first "official" Heaven & Hell studio release and a fine collection of riff-driven doom-metal, ya know. There's no reason, at this point in the game, to believe that you're going to receive much of anything different from Dio, Iommi, and the gang, and that's just fine by me. The album opens with the plodding, seriously downtuned "Atom And Evil," the intro itself worth the price of admission. Featuring one of Iommi's best sludge-metal guitar lines and Dio's slow-as-cough-syrup vocals, the song stomps along ungracefully and lets the listener know exactly what to expect from this latest Black…er, Heaven & Hell album.

The proggish "Bible Black" opens with a piercing guitar line thrown against an acoustic guitar strum, Dio's slow-boiling vocals evolving from an initial menacing growl into his typical full-blown wail as Appice's drums explode and Iommi's fretwork grinds and howls. "Rock & Roll Angel" is the album's best bet for a radio-ready single, with a sledgehammer riff marching like an angry carnivore behind Dio's over-the-top vocals and a matching suit-and-tie of martial rhythms. The unrelenting doomishness of "The Turn Of The Screw" is gussied up with some uncharacteristic Dio vocal gymnastics that evoke memories of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal in their inflection and flexibility.

Dio is know as an arcane lyricist, a fanciful songwriter whose head is filled with dreams of dragons and witches and darkness, and The Devil You Know is filled with Dio's typically oblique imagery, words that seem so much more frightening when spit at the listener with Dio's usual power and glory. The songwriter can have a little fun now and then, however, and "Eating The Cannibals" is Dio's tongue-in-cheek stab at humor. A locomotive rocker with screaming six-string and fast-paced rhythms, Dio's vocals run at a pace similar to Bruce Dickinson's, while Iommi's lightning-quick fretboard runs prove that the man can shred with the best o' them.

The stunning "Follow The Tears" strides the razor's edge between Sabbath's typical doom-and-gloom sturm-und-drang and Euro-styled Goth-metal. The song's strident, unyielding rhythms are paired with crunchy guitar riffs, predatory six-string solos, and Dio's best lyrical cynicism and dark-hued cathedral vox. The Devil You Know closes out with the same sort of retro-cool, dino-stomp tarpit rock as it opened with, "Breaking Into Heaven" allowing Dio to cut loose with his most frenetic vocals yet, which are themselves layered above Iommi's assaulting guitarplay and the Butler/Appice rhythmic cyclone.

No matter what you want to call it – Heaven & Hell, Black Sabbath, or the Archie & Jughead Good-Times Soda-Pop Quartet, the result is exactly the same – this is The Devil You Know. A wolf in sheep's clothing is still gonna eat yer Granny, and Messrs. Dio, Iommi, Butler, and Appice are always going to blow your face off. Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, indeed. (Rhino Records)

Related: Sabbath's Dio Years Revisited

(Click on the CD cover to buy The Devil You Know from Amazon.com)

Interview w/Yngwie Malmsteen

2009-05-31T15:01:00.005-04:00

His name is synonymous with neoclassical shredding, executing technical arpeggio scales that are nearly impossible to replicate…who is he? It’s Yngwie Malmsteen, that’s who! For a career that spans decades, with various bands (Steeler, Alcatrazz), a mass of solo endeavors that spawned gems such as "I'll See The Light Tonight" and "Heaven Tonight," to even melding his metallic drive with real symphony orchestras (Concerto Suite for Electric Guitar and Orchestra in Em, Opus 1); the axeman is truly a legend.

His newest album, Perpetual Flame is his first to feature notable vocalist Tim "Ripper" Owens (Beyond Fear, ex-Iced Earth, ex-Judas Preist) for a record of blistering melodically heavy tunes, one of Malmsteen’s finest in years – complete with gripping hooks and monstrous leads that pull you in. The record itself is, in his own words, a continuation of the way he has always worked – just letting it flow.

"The way I do things, I just sort of start writing songs and I let it flow…whatever comes out naturally," begins Malmsteen. "I just go with it. I don’t try to go into this direction or that direction or anything like that I do exactly what comes out and follow it, because to me that seems like the right thing to do. What happened was that I went on tour and I came back and started recording some drums and went back on tours and came back and recorded guitars and keyboards, started writing lyrics, went back on tour again, and in the middle of all this I realized that I needed a lead singer for all of this because the way the songs were taking shape. So I know what I am looking for, I know what I hear in my head, and Ripper has always been discussed," he says.

"We had talked a couple of times so he came down and sang a couple of songs and we both said ‘this is great.’ It was a long process, I started writing songs back in the beginning ’07, and I would listen to the songs in a different way and hear different things. To me Ripper was playing the roles as DeNiro or Pachino would, and I am the Director/Screenwriter so to speak, that’s how I work. I know what I want, I know where I am going with it; that’s why I don’t use an outside producer or anything like that. I’m very efficient in that sense. A lot of times that is a dangerous thing to do because you can get locked in, but again I did some writing and recording, went on tour and came back and everything would sound different, so it was great to be able to record some do some recording at a time in respect to not getting locked in."

With the record industry being in shambles at this point on all ends of the spectrum, just about everybody has been affected, and it’s no surprise that after having dealt with several major and independent labels for years (including Polygram, Pony Canyon Japan, and Spitfire to name a few), that the guitarist would go out and finally form his own label, Rising Force Records, to keep a better grip on the business end of things to keep making music on his own terms in this time of downloading and new media.

"It’s no secret that the whole music industry and the whole scene of making and selling records has changed for the worst in the last few years," elaborates Malmsteen. "A lot have things have changed for the worse, such as a lot of things or support that you would normally get from your record label in the past, you don’t get anymore, and so they can do what they want to do. But I don’t want any part of that anymore; I want to make sure things get done. It's my wife/manager's (April Malmsteen) thing, it’s distributed by Koch in North America and Pinnacle in Europe, Pinnacle are pretty big in Europe so they are a big corporation. With Rising Force Records, what we’re doing, we have everything under control because with everything going down in the record industry lately, it’s been pretty disastrous in the past few years."

In 1998, he composed his first concerto for orchestra and guitar featuring himself and the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, fulfilling a lifelong dream – he even later released a DVD with the New Japan Philharmonic Orchestra to further express this exquisite musical endeavor. It is something that he hopes to do in the future, but for now, it’s all about the metal, “Of course (I want to do that again), but right now in my life & career I just want to rock out. Just turn it up and rock; there will be plenty of time to other things like that later on. That was a dream come true and I am very pleased with the results.”

Malmsteen's influence comes from a wide variety of performers, from early classical composers to axeslingers such as Hendrix and Blackmore; he explains in detail on how hearing music in his early life and the first records influenced the musical virtuosity he is known for. "When I was five, on my fifth birthday, I was given a guitar and my own brother and sister are really good musicians," explains Malmsteen, "but it wasn’t until I saw Hendrix on the news, burning his guitar when I was seven; there was no music per say and I said this is what I want to do, I want to burn the guitar – so Hendrix’s impact to me was that I saw him burn his guitar and that’s when I really wanted to start playing."

"A year later my older sister gave me Deep Purple's Fireball, now I’m eight years old, next week I get Deep Purple In Rock, which is another very powerful record – having a huge impact on me. So I started playing in bands when I was ten, playing all over the place and being very active, after I learned all the blues and platonic scales I decided that I wanted to go somewhere else and that’s where the classical music came in, eventually having a much stronger impact on everything I did."

"It always has the sense of power and energy and that’s something I have always held dear to my heart, and combined with the Marshalls and all that stuff, whether it's metal or blues, it's great I love it, it's what I want to do. So I drew a lot from Bach, Vivaldi, Paganinni, and Tchaikovsky and that is what really influenced me, of course combines with the metal sound. Whether it's a double kick drum or a really big chorus, it's like a Bach invention and so that’s really what I love to do, take the feel of those classical chord progressions."

Besides being known his constant use of the Strats, Marshalls, and Ovations, he has just been inducted into Hollywood’s Rockwalk Hall of Fame and even been immortalized further by having an award given in his namesake for the Xbox 360 Version Guitar Hero II; if you play 1000 notes in succession, you will be given the beloved 'Yngwie Malmsteen' award. Still though with his new album and an impending tour, he plans to take everything one day at a time concluding. "I take everything day by day so what I am doing right now, I am concentrating on the new release and the tour. Things tend to fall into place and follow the yellow brick road." (Interview by Tommy "Hashman" Hash, October 2008)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Perpetual Flame from Amazon.com)

The Doors' Live At The Matrix '67

2009-05-24T19:05:00.005-04:00

When the Doors were booked to perform two nights at the Matrix in San Francisco in March 1967, they were just another group of hopeful L.A. area musicians trying to ride the rock 'n' roll gravy train to fame and fortune. Hungry, loud, raw, and energetic, the band's first album had only been released a couple of months previous, and few in the sparse audience knew (or, evidently, cared) about the Doors.

I won't go into too much detail about the band – the story of Jim Morrison, Ray Manzarek, Robby Krieger, and John Densmore is known too well, been re-hashed far too often since Morrison's "alleged" death in 1971 to bore the reader with useless observations. Suffice it to say that when the band's self-titled debut was released in early-1967, its unique mix of rock, pop, and blues…shaded with psychedelic strains and Eastern exoticism…sounded like little that had been previously released in the world of rock.

The band's songs would become weaker with each subsequent album, Morrison's poetic lyrics strained by hurried composition. The band's sound would also become overly stylized, polished by the studio and producers to better fit the charts. The performances displayed by the band here are nothing short of remarkable, however. Live At The Matrix '67 is the first legitimate release of an often-bootlegged set of tapes, drawing material from across the four sets performed by the band over the two nights. Unlike the band's later recordings, Live At The Matrix '67 showcases the band in all of its ragged glory.

The two-CD set kicks off with a strident, high-octane take of "Break On Through (To The Other Side)." Starting off with a shuffling beat, the song jumps into Morrison's rattletrap vocals sitting firmly astride Ray Manzarek's stabbing keyboard riffs, his voice simply crackling with electricity. Robby Krieger's guitar is somewhat subdued here, lost in the chaos until he roars above the mix at around the three-minute mark to lay out a razor-sharp solo. The performance itself is breathtaking in its energy, shocking in its relative brevity.

Manzarek's familiar keyboard line opens the bluesy "Soul Kitchen." Accompanied by Krieger's fine fretwork, the song's running time is stretched out to almost six minutes with brother Ray's keyboard pyrotechnics, some bombastic John Densmore skin-pounding, and a couple of explosive six-string solos. "Twentieth Century Fox" is another short, sharp shock, with swirling psychedelic keyboard riffs and stomping rhythms almost drowning out Morrison's hoarse vocals. Krieger's guitar solo here is particularly tasty, evincing the sort of bluesy psychedelic edge that was often softened on the band's recordings.

"Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)" is a fine cross between Delta blues and German cabaret, an odd little song that builds upon the sanitized album version with an even more reckless reading of the lyrics and an intriguing, syncopated rhythm that hits the ears with an outlandish perversity. "Light My Fire," which would become the band's breakthrough hit a few short weeks after this performance, stands up well in a live setting, the Doors' again jamming their way past the eight-minute mark with all the intensity of a wildfire.

The band's live performance of "Moonlight Drive" is, perhaps, less mesmerizing than the LP version, but manages to create a different sort of magical vibe nonetheless. With reckless vocals, slinky/squealing guitarwork, crashing rhythms, and Manzarek's keys pounding away at the bottom end, the song sounds almost improvised, chaotic in conception but drunkenly anarchic in its execution. The excellent "People Are Strange" is somewhat more sparsely arranged than the version offered by the Doors' sophomore album, with Manzarek's keys chiming freely above subtle rhythms and Morrison's haunting vocals.

The psychedelically-morose "When The Music's Over" is extended by a couple of minutes from its appearance on Strange Days, but the longer run time does little to dilute the song's stammering power. With Manzarek's ever-present keyboard runs, Morrison's voice soars and dips, stomps and plunders across the lyrics like a pirate's swordfight, his swaggering voice matched by Krieger's distorted, strangely disquieting fretwork, which runs through the song like a needle and thread. The result is a thoroughly off-balance work of genius that strained against the boundaries of rock music that themselves were being almost weekly with new album releases from a number of artists.

In the beginning, the Doors brought a strong blues-rock flavor to their material, and this is displayed up-front on Live At The Matrix '67 with a number of blues and R&B covers, some working and some…like the middling "I'm A King Bee"…falling flat on their face. A cover of Bo Diddley's classic "Who Do You Love" is stronger – propelled by Densmore's tribal drumbeats and an overall anarchic instrumental vibe, Morrison's fledgling lizard king vox pairs nicely with Diddley's voodoo-infused lyrics. The band's take on John Lee Hooker's classic "Crawling King Snake" is appropriately menacing, even if Morrison's primal howl is no match for the master's mojo hand.

A spirited and inspired cover of the Van Morrison/Them garage-rock classic "Gloria" is provided one of the best performances short of Patti Smith's classic take of the song. Starting slow and simmering to a boil, the Doors' performance is built on a lively guitar lick and galloping drumbeats, augmented by Manzarek's best approximation of a Farfisa organ run amok.

The sound on Live At The Matrix '67 is somewhat hollow, sometimes muddy, and often times bright to the point of distraction, i.e. it stands a notch above that of a decent bootleg CD, but less palatable to sensitive ears than your watered-down, slick-as-a-baby's-bottom contemporary live LP. No matter, 'cause it's the songs here that matter, and to that end Morrison et al deliver, perhaps, their best performance ever caught on tape. Along with the historical provenance of these recordings, should be enough to spur long-suffering Doors fans to their local music emporium to snatch up a copy of Live At The Matrix '67. (Rhino Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Live At The Matrix '67 from Amazon.com)

Graham Nash's Songs For Beginners

2009-05-24T18:54:00.004-04:00

In 1971, singer Graham Nash became the last member of Crosby, Still, Nash and Young to release a solo album. Songs For Beginners, Nash's debut, was a collection of material that he had written over the previous couple of years, some of it – like the gentle "Simple Man" – would be performed by the singer on the 1970 CSNY tour, while others would be recorded specifically for this album in the wake of the band's subsequent fragmenting.

Graham Nash came to the singer/songwriter aesthetic displayed on Songs For Beginners from a different direction than his CSNY bandmates. Whereas Neil Young was an established solo artist when he joined the trio, David Crosby had earned his reputation as part of the folk-rock outfit the Byrds, and Stephen Stills had found a modicum of fame through the successes of Buffalo Springfield.

Nash, on the other hand, was a veteran of '60s-era British pop stars the Hollies, known more for his melodious vocals than for his songwriting prowess…which made the intelligent folk-rock of Songs For Beginners all the more impressive. Calling on the talents of some of his friends – musicians like the Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia, multi-instrumentalist David Lindley, journeyman saxophonist Bobby Keys, and even fellow band members Crosby and Young (under the pseudonym "Joe Yankee") – Nash crafted a brilliant album of technical virtuosity and intelligent lyricism.

The album opens with the plaintive "Military Madness," an ole-fashioned, anti-war protest song, your standard folkie plea for peace-n-love all gussied up with some wikka-wikka fretwork (courtesy of Mr. Dave Mason), Nash's considered lyrics sung above his gentle acoustic guitar-strum. Although the song was originally written with Nash's soldier father in mind, set in WWII England, its simple message is applicable to all wars, in all places, and the "madness" that often accompanies such mindless aggression.

At its heart, however, Songs For Beginners is an album of love songs…tales of lost love, yes, but a romantic collection nonetheless. No less than three songs among the eleven – "Better Days," "Simple Man," and "I Used To Be A King" – deal with Nash's heartbroken break-up with singer/songwriter Joni Mitchell, of whom he wrote the CSNY gem "Our House." Another song here, "Wounded Bird," was written for friend and bandmate Stephen Stills, who was going through his own break-up with folk singer Judy Collins.

Because of this romantic focus, much of Songs For Beginners sounds slightly morose, but there are a few rays of hope that shine through these stories if one digs deep enough in the grooves. "Better Days," which features one of Nash's better vocal performances, one that displays the range of the man's talents, lyrically has the conscience of the song's protagonist telling him "remember better days" and "don't you cry 'cause she is gone." That is, remember the joyous laughter and loving moments and move on with your life, regardless of her reasons for leaving.

As David Fricke points out in his excellent liner notes to Songs For Beginners, "I Used To Be A King" is a title that plays on words, evoking Nash's Hollies-era hit "King Midas In Reverse." Nash continues this clever wordplay in the lyrics, likening his lost relationship to the king for whom "everything around me turned to gold." In the flush of a romance, it does seem that one is on top of the world, a king of sorts, but here we have Nash…obviously the song's protagonist…doubting himself and his former royal status. Although he tells himself "it's alright, I'm OK," he also says, "everything around me turned to rust…'cause I built my life on sand." Although the song is ostensibly one of redemption, Nash's declaration that "no one is going to break my heart again" says otherwise.

Whereas the previous two songs display a certain amount of self-deception, "Simple Man" – the original song in the lovesick Mitchell trilogy – is a poetic attempt to come to grips with the songwriter's loss. With the lovely Rita Coolidge providing backing harmonies behind Nash's cracking voice and mournful piano, the song is one of wistful self assurance (that most likely failed). With David Lindley's high lonesome fiddle work low in the mix, the song provokes a truly melancholy vibe.

As befitting the time and place of its release, Songs For Beginners includes a pair of topical songs that hold up remarkably well. "Chicago," written about the Chicago Seven trial, was targeted at Nash's CSNY bandmates Stills and Young. Asked by hippie legend Wavy Gravy to perform a benefit concert for the Chicago Seven protesters – which included the late Abbie Hoffman and Black Panther Bobby Seale – evidently Nash and Crosby were ready to roll, but the other half of CSNY displayed a certain reticence.

"Chicago" was Nash's plea to get the pair on board, the up-tempo song opening with the lyrics "so your brother's bound and gagged, and they've chained him to a chair, won't you please come to Chicago just to sing…." From there it sort of evolves into a sort of "we can change the world" mantra so prevalent in late-60s/early-70s rock music. As for the album-closing "We Can Change The World," it is no more than a coda, really, a minute-seventeen of chiming piano and harmony vocals that flows effortlessly from the end of "Chicago." As a sign of the times, "Chicago" would become a Top Forty hit and drive Songs For Beginners to #15 on the charts, the album achieving Gold sales status.

Songs For Beginners is an impressive and unexpected debut from an artist that even CSNY fans didn't know all that well at the time. Introspective to a fault, these are songs of change, of transition, masterfully capturing a tumultuous period of the artist's life and setting them in amber for listeners to hear nearly forty years later. The music and lyrics are perfectly matched, and the emotions expressed herein by Nash are universal, lending the album a timeless status. Nash would go on to record a handful of subsequent solo works, but none would so perfectly document what was on the man's mind as did Songs For Beginners. (Rhino Records)

Two-disc deluxe Rhino reissue includes a bonus DVD with 5.1 surround sound mix of the album, a high-rez stereo mix, photo gallery, song lyrics, and a new video interview with Nash. Illustrated CD booklet includes liner notes from Rolling Stone scribe David Fricke, lyrics, and song credits.

(Click on the CD cover to buy Songs For Beginners from Amazon.com)

Throbbleheads: G.G. Allin & Tesco Vee of the Meatmen

2009-05-18T06:32:00.002-04:00

These are just too cool not to write about here on TMQ: Aggronautix will be releasing the first two figures in their "throbblehead" bobblehead doll series, the honors going to infamous scuz-rocker G.G. Allin and Tesco Vee of the notorious Meatmen.

Each of the two "throbblehead" figures will be 7" tall and made of lightweight polyresin, packaged in a tri-windowed box. The G.G. Allin figure will be released in a limited edition numbering 2,000, while the Tesco Vee bobblehead will have a limited edition run of 1,000 figures. The figures will be distributed by our friends at Music Video Distributors, purveyors of fine music-related stuff since '86, and by DKE Toys, which handles distribution for all sort of underground goodies, from urban art and toys to other odd stuff (like the Rev's fave, Circus Punks).

The G.G. Allin figure was first pitched by Aggronautix to the late rocker's brother Merle a couple of years ago. Merle Allin, the keeper of the flame for everything G.G.-related, worked closely with the company to create a masterful rendition that stands tall in his brother's image.

"I had been thinking about doing a GG figure for a while, so when the guys came to me with the idea, I was into it," said Allin. "The proofing process took a long time, but we got it right. The doll looks really good and I'm happy with it."

For the other figure in the first run of throbbleheads, Aggronautix chose Tesco Vee, frontman for the outrageous and usually obscene Meatmen. The Meatmen first emerged out of the Michigan hardcore punk scene during the early-80s with blast-furnace EPs like Crippled Children Suck and Blood Sausage. The band released it's debut album, We're The Meatmen...And You Suck in 1983 on the indie label Touch & Go,

The Reverend's all-time fave Meatmen LP is 1985's War Of The Superbikes. The initial pressings of the album included a 7" flexi that had Vee voicing a number of hilarious satirical commercials, while the sound of the album itself was pure metalcore with such great tunes as "What's This Shit Called Love?" and "ABBA, God and Me," where Vee professes his enduring love for the Northern European pop group.

Informed of his newfound status as a "throbblehead," Vee says "as a toy collector of two decades, and classic bobble head collector, imagine just how geeked I became, when informed that yours truly would enter the pantheon of 'Throbblehead' punk rock losers, along with poopy soulmate GG Allin!"

Both throbblehead figures will be available for eager consumers from the Aggronautix website and from online retailers like See of Sound, as well as from local comic shops, tattoo parlors, and other storefronts of ill repute.

Next up for punk fans from the good folks at Aggronautix: a Dwarves two-headed "throbble," scheduled to be released later this summer.

(Click on the figures to see a life-sized photo)

G.G. Allin - "Rock Babylon"

The Meatmen - "Rock 'N' Roll Juggernaut"

Interview w/ Michael Coon of Laaz Rockit

2009-05-17T15:46:00.007-04:00

It could have been almost like a Behind the Music scenario: five guys come together and form a band; release a string of albums, get into drugs, get in trouble with the law, break up, everybody hates each other. Then, out of the blue years later, everybody decides to get back together, feeling an emptiness and a longing to finish business, record a new album and the new album sucks – we have heard that story many times, but for Bay Area thrash legends Laaz Rockit, that is not the case.

Having been involved in the thrash scene during its heyday, Laaz Rockit was a band that had a devoted and underground following back in the day. They released a string of several records, but when the '90s came into play, the music scene would change, the record industry would change, their label would sell out, and the band quietly decided to call it a day after years of playing to crowds across the world. Unlike many bands, the members would remain friends and keep in touch throughout the years.

Fast forward over a decade and it would be not only the band mates longing to get back together, but it would also be the demand from the fans that would bring everything full circle again to record Left for Dead (Blistering Records USA), a record that is tried and true to the authentic thrash genre, shying away from any flavor of the day, nu-metal or extreme metal connotations – it’s almost like the record was made to be played on the turntable, harkening the days of metal’s golden underground era in the days of vinyl.

“I would call it hibernation more than hiatus,” begins vocalist Michael Coons about the reunion. “We were dormant for nearly thirteen years between shows; I think the last show that we played in ’92 was in Tokyo. It was really easy for us to get back together because of our longstanding friendships. Even though we weren’t playing music together through that period, we always maintained our brotherhood – a couple of guys got married, had kids, and started businesses, but we were also in the Bay Area (although I have resided in Los Angeles for the last five or six years). It was something that we had discussed and it wasn’t like one of these things where we all hated each other or anything like that – we all still played golf together, went to ball games, and attended Christmas parties and stayed in touch. It was sort of like riding a bicycle, it took a little time for us to get tight again musically, but we worked at it and it was a very natural thing.”

Connecting again with the fans was also important for the band, whether it was to a whole new audience or to the band's longtime devotees, the magic was still there – even when it came down to recording the new record. “We had been doing these reunion shows and it was great because we discovered this whole new legion of fans,” explains Coons. “There were these fifteen to twenty-five year olds who knew our music and we were pretty struck by that because we of course had people that came to the shows that saw us in the '80s and '90s and a lot of these people had kids that might have been conceived at our shows. Through the computer age and the Internet, they have discovered all the Laaz Rockit music, so they knew all the old songs. It’s so funny, because there were people who were like nineteen and they would say something like, 'I’ve been waiting to see you for fifteen years,' and I’m like, 'since you were four?' (laughing). I was really stunned by the reaction and people were saying that they would really like to see us again and we certainly didn’t lose any energy from our show, I felt we were always a great live band."

“As we were doing these shows, we thought that it would be nice to do some new material because the songs were somewhat old to us, and even though some people consider some ‘classics,’ which is a great honor, we felt we weren’t done musically. Aaron and I started sending discs back and forth to each other for ideas around September of ’07 and I started to arrange and sit down to come up with some lyrical ideas and it actually came together fairly quickly – we mapped out a way to effectively do it in a studio up in Northern California; we just sort of poked away at it and after the first couple of weeks we thought that the material was pretty good – not being influenced by trends, flavors of the day, changes in music, or any other sort of hybrids that came out in the '90s; it was basically the same type of music that Aaron and I created when we first got together; back when we were teenagers. Obviously, I would like to think, that we are much more musically proficient than we were back then, but it was a ‘trip.’ I’m not a studio guy, I love performing live – that’s my thing, but I really enjoyed the studio this time, I think the songs are much more mature and In think they have subject matter that I hadn’t approached before (I can take from life experience), so it was quite a cathartic experience.”

They come from the same area that spawned one of the biggest metal scenes in the United States – being involved with the San Francisco Bay Area music scene was certainly an experience, it was good times; but at that time who knew that scene would become a hub for some of the most influential music, not to mention that this scene would spawn one of the biggest selling bands of all time. “I would say that collectively, us, Metallica, Testament, Exodus, Death Angel, and Forbidden – we didn’t realize the form of music that we were creating was actually a significant metal movement that was being recognized worldwide,” elaborates Coons. “I think Metallica, Exodus, and Testament had a bit of the lion’s share of that because they kept going at it…just look at Metallica.”

“We were sort of having fun, we all hung out with each other, it was a magical time, and I think that a lot of us were blissfully unaware of (the scene’s recognition) until the '90s came along and people began to cite our band as an influence – and I thought I would never be influential like that; for musicianship, that was quite an honor. Now when we get together and see each other, we spend a lot of time going down memory lane. Unfortunately, some of the people that we were playing music with or in bands with aren’t with us anymore – Laaz Rockit is very lucky that we are all still alive. It’s part of life and we did not think about those things in those terms at that time, we just played hard, partied hard, had fun, we talked about record companies, how they are screwing us here and there, how when we went to Europe we would have to ‘play this one place’ and you know whatever subject matter came up; it was a pretty magical time.”

Most of us who listened to metal and even college rock/classic alternative in the '80s might remember Enigma Records, as it was home to several influential bands and even satellite and distributed labels (such as Restless and Metal Blade) that are still heard today. Even with the label’s major label distribution, street credibility, and good promotion, the good times didn’t last long. Not only did the buy-out from Hollywood Records signal the end of an era to underground music, but it also signaled the beginning of the band’s ‘hibernation period.’

“(Enigma) were a big label at the time, they had a couple other bands like Poison, they had Capitol distributing the records trying to really get into the big biz; plus they had a lot of alternative acts such as the Dead Milkmen and The Smithereens, which were popular radio-wise. In the end, they sort of pulled the rug out from everybody and sold the interest to Hollywood Records literally overnight – and they were a Disney company and the ‘we’re here for the artists’ thing just went out the window. It came down to who’s moving two million copies of a record, who is on radio, and stuff like that; it screwed a lot of bands over in the process. That was sort of the culmination or the beginning of our demise at the time – being tired of battling record companies, trying to collect money and all that stuff. Record companies back then could operate and sign bands as a loss for a ‘tax break,’ there’s a lot of things you could get into about the whole business end. It was exciting at first, of course it was great to have our records in the stores when we were traveling the United States, but eventually the positive feelings about our record company at the time turned around.”

The DVD release of Live Untold was not only a big catalyst for the reunion, and not only was it a blast from the past for the fans, but for the band as well. “It was really interesting, especially for me because I saw it when it was just about done,” explains Coons. “I did not see the footage until I had to come up (to the studio) and approve it. This guy, Andre Welch, who is a very talented filmmaker and videographer – he has done a lot of independent moves and shorts; he is someone that I have done acting for in movies as well. He was slaving away in all this footage and when I went up to see all this, it was so interesting because I was eighteen, nineteen years old and I haven’t seen that stuff in over twenty years; I was just shocked thinking, ‘where did you find this.’ The guys and some other friends of ours all contributed their home movies and tapes – you think when you are in your late teens and of course ‘you know everything,’ I look at myself and I think, ‘I’m a little boy.’ But the whole DVD was well done and it brought back so many memories and of course and our interview sections with talking were fun, and when you see those interview sections, like I was mentioning earlier, that’s us together and we were like that, having a blast. It was very interesting looking at the chronological history of the band because I had never thought it would come together that well.”

A lot of us might have paid big money for an out-of-print CD or even LP on eBay, could you imagine paying $40 for something, then getting the album and finding out it’s not the official version. Coons has seen firsthand how the bootlegging/piracy business is affecting bands. “There’s a lot of bootlegs floating around, and we did re-release City’s Gonna Burn with Old School Metal Records last year, that was the only one that I know I signed off on and it was interesting because a friend of mine who saw us play with testament at the Key Club in April brought in copies of Annihilation and Know Your Enemy and I took a closer look and I asked him where he got those because the cover was different as well as many other differences and I said ‘these are bootlegs.’ Now that we have a new CD out, we are starting to see a lot of these things and not to sound greedy or anything, but we see nothing from these, and this guy paid $40 for each CD. It’s nice to see that people would want these things to add to their collection, but I would like to know where they are coming from. I wonder how many other bands besides us this is happening to. I’m sure that, sadly, a lot of bands are seeing their releases pirated and not seeing a penny, the people doing this are probably doing a hundred other bands, if not more; it’s bad for everybody. When someone goes out and spends a lot of money and it’s not the original copies, it’s certainly eyebrow-raising.”

At this point, the band has hopes to get out on the road and tour more extensively, especially in the U.S. – but for now, besides a few festivals in Europe, things are still in planning mode. “We certainly are going to do some dates now that the record has come out in the US,” concludes Coons. “The thing about this reunion; I don’t think we have been fair to the United States crowd yet, we really want to tour stateside; we toured Europe, we toured Japan, and we did a few California gigs, and a Las Vegas gig, but as for the East Coast, places like Nashville, Michigan, and Texas, which are places we want to play – people from all across the US that have seen footage on YouTube ask us, ‘when are you coming here’ and we really want to do that.”

“Three of the guys are married and have kids in school and that kind of stuff so we sort of have to bounce around that, but I would live to do a proper U.S. showing a play places like Nashville, because it’s important, you can’t just dictate what’s easy for you – I’m sure we’d have to make some sacrifices to do it. The market is important to us, but the fans are the most important because the reason we got back together to do this was to play live for people – it wasn’t for money, it wasn’t for ego, it wasn’t ‘hey look at me again,’ it was about the relationship that we have with people when we play live. So I would hope by next summer, we can start hitting some spots around the country but at this time the only show we have booked is the New Years Eve show with Testament in San Francisco. We’re supposed top be going to Europe for some festivals in the Spring, hopefully on the strengths of that we can books some US dates as well.” (Interview by Tommy "Hashman" Hash, November 2008)

Heatless Bastards climb The Mountain

2009-05-17T15:40:00.002-04:00

If the Heartless Bastards of The Mountain sound vastly different than, say, the band that recorded Stairs and Elevators way back in ought-five, well, they are. No longer the Rust Belt garage-punks that their first two albums triumphed, lead Bastard Erika Wennerstrom is the only bandmember left after the move from Ohio to the musical hotbed of Austin, Texas. Which is OK, really, 'cause Wennerstrom's was the big voice, bigger vision, and scorching guitar that fueled that early band's shambolic sound.

Which is not to say that the Heartless Bastards have gotten any less…well, heartless…with a new crew assembled around Wennerstrom. No, if anything the move and different players has re-energized Wennerstrom and expanded her already highly personal and unique musical and lyrical perspective. Yes, her voice is still capable of leveling a building, but as shown with the rootsy, damn-near-pastoral "Could Be So Happy," Wennerstrom can also tone it down and use her blasting cap pipes as a soulful, plaintive instrument.

The Mountain is a much more diverse set from a band that could once start fires just by climbing onstage, a pitch-perfect illustration of roots-rock direction and garage-rock aesthetic packed with shards of electric blues, folkish lyricism, and country twang. As invigorating as the music is, however, it's all just mere audio illusion that masks Wennerstrom's oblique, heartfelt lyrics. This woman could be singing her words to a slinky German cabaret soundtrack and still hit the ears with the impact of the noisy industrial machinery that once comprised Wennerstrom's Dayton, Ohio homestown.

Thus, The Mountain represents an evolution, of sorts, for the Heartless Bastards, Wennerstrom expanding her sonic palette to better compliment her expressive lyricism. There's plenty here to satisfy the old fans, as well, such as the hurricane-force confessional minimalism of "Out At Sea," a right fine song with beautiful guitar resonance, '60s-styled rhythms, and Wennerstrom's punkish vocal wails.

Perhaps the key moment of The Mountain, though, can be found in the country-dirge "Had To Go." Wennerstrom's high lonesome vocals rest uneasily above a slow-picked guitar and rhythmic hum that is part Delta blues damnation and part mournful hillbilly heartbreak. The lyrics tell of leaving home and facing the loneliness and unfamiliarity of new surroundings and relationships. The title says it all – "I got no one to blame cause I had to go" the song's protagonist sings – and it's the expression of an artist treading water and trying to make their way in this world.

After leaving home and family, there are only two ways to go: admit defeat and return, or struggle and grow and work to create something new. My bet is on Wennerstrom succeeding and thriving in her new surroundings. With The Mountain, she's already begun the process…. (Fat Possum Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy The Mountain from Amazon.com)

Andrew Bird's Noble Beast

2009-05-17T15:23:00.001-04:00

Singer/songwriter Andrew Bird came to the ranks of indie-rock with an entirely different point-of-view and his own unique musical baggage. A classically-trained violinist since he was in short pants, Bird's early work was more likely to quote Bertolt Brecht as Chuck Berry, and his skilled use of stringed instruments and penchant for complimenting his wistful vocals with a whistled melody made Bird a welcome oddball among the legions of hirsute, guitar-strumming, sensitive male folkies inhabiting the indie-rock sphere during the early part of the '00s.

Noble Beast is Bird's fifth solo album since leaving his vaunted late-90s band Bowl of Fire, and his second for Fat Possum, a label once better known for its Mississippi Hill Country blues releases, but now earning a reputation as the home for enlightening and eccentric music created on the fringes of the rock 'n' roll mainstream. Noble Beast is, in many ways, the logical follow-up to Bird's critically-acclaimed 2007 album Armchair Apocrypha and, as such, delivers much more of the same.

If anything, Noble Beast seems to match the pastoral innocence and gentle vibe of Armchair Apocrypha with even grander instrumentation and moments of excited enthusiasm. "Fitz and the Dizzyspells," for instance, reminds of a similar bunch of '60s-era merry pranksters, Kaleidoscope. Bird's lofty vocals float above a jangly soundtrack of chiming guitars, psychedelic sounds, gorgeous harmonies, and bits of odd sound. The song manages to bring the musical diversity and childlike innocence of late-60s psyche-folk into the new millennium with a bang.

On the whole, Noble Beast is filled with such charming and thoroughly engaging moments that creep into your consciousness and mesmerize one's senses in spite of efforts to otherwise dismiss them as mere wan sprite singer/songwriter drivel. "Effigy" opens with a vaguely Celtic violin riff and echoed rhythms before beautifully-crafted Spanish guitar breaks in behind Bird's warm, assured vocals. With the vastly underrated Kelly Hogan providing backing vocals, the two different voices spin a multi-textured and simply enchanting yarn.

On the other hand you have the slightly discordant "Not A Robot, But a Ghost," its sound like that blaring from a scratchy old 78rpm record, but with a modern technological edge, and as close to a free-falling rock song as you'll find on Noble Beast. Bird's vocals are slightly askew, sitting at a sharp angle from the backing instrumentation, with just a hint of Hogan's voice in the background, shadowing…or perhaps stalking, Bird's vox as the song's instrumentation is a mix of light-and-dark, from exotic Gypsy strings to dark-hued movieland soundtrack. It is both a maddening and entirely intriguing song.

Andrew Bird is a singularly unique talent. I'd put him in a league with folks like Ry Cooder and David Lindley (who, coincidentally, was also a member of the aforementioned Kaleidoscope), talents creating intriguing and challenging music that allows them to pay the bills by writing film scores (which Bird has also done), but who seldom break through to any sort of mainstream success. But that's OK, 'cause while the indie-rock community has pretty much embraced Bird right now, it is those few listeners who expect to be surprised by albums like Noble Beast that will support Bird's efforts in the future. (Fat Possum Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Noble Beast from Amazon.com)

Samael's Dark Storm 'Above'

2009-03-27T07:00:00.001-04:00

Listen carefully, to the song "Virtual War," from Samael's album Above…with its galloping thunderbeats, graveyard vocals, and guitars that brutally slice-and-dice your medulla oblongata into french fries ready for a bubbling hot acid bath…that, children, is the sound of the apocalypse….

Switzerland's Samael has a long and storied history of pummeling our ear cavities into submission, reducing our punch-drunk cerebellums into a greasy mush unfit to even make pet food outta. With Above, however, this dark-hued Swiss death machine has delivered an album that is so imposing, so damn physically demanding that it's certain to put some metal fans on a one-way bus to crazytown.

Every song on Above is availed of a blistering, unrelenting, and wearing blastbeat that bounces around yer skullplate like a jackhammer chopping up concrete. The sound is something like what I'd imagine a building collapsing on my noggin would feel like, kind of like drowning in a tsunami of rusted rebar, drywall dust, and shattered glass. Waves of sonic percussions run rampant through the mix, detaching your brain from logical thought while preparing it for the sweet-n-sour vinegar bath to follow.

After the explosive rhythms have knocked you down, vocalist Vorphalack climbs astride your chest, pushing all of the air from your lungs. With his guttural sandpaper vocals, he gargles some corrosive lyrics about black holes and "illumination" and darkness and dreams or something. Maybe it loses something in translation, or maybe I've gone without sleep far too long listening to this beast of an album, but I'm pretty sure that you'd have to be jacked up on some sort of hallucinogen for "Polygames" to make any damn sense, in any language. Hey, mph, indeed!

Did I mention the guitars, those unholy freakin' guitars? Some shaggy rabid golem called Makro wields his instrument like a Viking battle-axe, and what his six strings won't cut through, he just bludgeons into a mudpuddle with two-ton rhythms. Beneath the percussive wall of sound and Vorp's diabolic vocal assault, Makro's fretwork pierces the darkness with a laser-like intensity, dropping riff bombs one moment and blossoming into man-chewing leads the next, like that cannibalistic plant from Little Shop of Horrors.

In the end, Above runs just short of forty-five minutes, delivering an onslaught of uncompromising, soul-crunching, gut-wrenching cheap thrills that bulldozes just about any other death metal band beneath a thick layer of molten asphalt. Anything less would be a tease, anything more might be classified as torture under the conditions of the Geneva Convention. (Nuclear Blast Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Above from Amazon.com)

Ross the Boss is the 'New Metal Leader'!!!

2009-03-08T16:28:00.004-04:00

"Meet the new boss, same as the old boss…."

Yeah, merrily, it kicks off with a joy and grandeur worthy of Beethoven's greatest, striding down the crimson-tinted carpet like a baroque power-metal entrance theme. But then the dignified airs of the introductory "I.L.H." give way to the full-bore onslaught of "Blood of Knives," a riff-driven monster of epic proportions, a calling card as stark and real as a ninja throwing knife imbedded in the ol' cranium, right between yer beady lil' eyes….

Yeah, Ross the Boss is back, fools, and this time the sumbitch ain't taking NO prisoners. His mighty axe forged in the fire that was the Dictators, and honed to a razor's edge with Manitoba's Wild Kingdom and Manowar, Ross has come back like a long-lost king of yore to let every one of you peasants know that he is, indeed, the New Metal Leader.

Before his unceremonious departure from power-metal legends Manowar, Ross the Boss was the blood-and-bone of the band, providing the incendiary six-string pyrotechnics that were so crucial to the trademark Manowar sound. With New Metal Leader, Ross has come back to stomp a mudhole in somebody's ass, and he's assembled a strong band of warriors to assist him on his journey.

Vocalist Patrick Fuch's sounds like the mutant lovechild of Rob Halford and Kotipelto, his vox soaring high above the mix like a blood-hungry bird-of-prey. The rhythm section of bassist Carsten Kettering and drummer Matthias "Matze" Mayer is both explosive and locomotive crazy, with jackhammer basslines and galloping, wrecking ball drumbeats tearing down anything or anyone that stands in their way.

Rising above it all, however, like a saber-rattling golem is the one, the only Ross "The Boss" Friedman, a blistering fretburner with asbestos fingers and laser-like talons. His larger-than-life riffs smack yer ears around like a heavyweight prizefighter, while his bone-cutting leads slice-n-dice like a wolverine's claws. When he's not tearing you up with lightning-fast six-string-shred, he's knocking you down with percussive chords.

As a result, New Metal Leader is a bonfire of epic proportions. Lyrically, it treads the usual swords-n-sorcery, "we shall trimph," Viking mythology typical of Dungeons and Dragons-styled metal. But songs like the high-speed collision that is "Death and Glory," with its four horseman of the apocalypse rhythms, Fuch's glorious OTT vox, and the Boss' stiletto fretwork, or the menacing, dino-stomp doom-and-destruction mindfuck that is "Constantine's Sword" are gold-plated rump-shakers in the best Iron Maiden/Judas Priest/Diamondhead tradition.

Ross the Boss is back, and he's pissed off…bow down to the New Metal Leader and spread the word…. (Candlelight Records USA)

(Click on the CD cover to buy New Metal Leader from Amazon.com)

Lynyrd Skynyrd Visits 'Sweet Home Alabama'

2009-03-08T16:14:00.004-04:00

You gotta admit, even with the stereotypes out there about Lynyrd Skynyrd, they are one great rock band. Showcasing their performance at the Loreley Festival in Frankfort, Germany in 1996, for the Rockpalast TV show, we see the triple guitar attack of Hughie Thomason, ex-Blackfoot Rickie Medlocke, and original axeman Gary Rossington along with vocalist Johnny Van Zant filling in for the late, great Ronnie.

Of course, all of the hits are performed: “Workin’ For MCA,” “Saturday Night Special,” “What’s Your Name” and, of course, “Freebird,” proving that this band was a great act that remained something to be seen even after the tragic plane crash. They still have the backup singers, the tight jam sessions, and the captivating rawness of Southern rock that really kept the spirit alive over the past couple of decades.

In addition to the full-length concert from ’96, there are three bonus cuts from the classic lineup filmed in 1974 from Hamburg (“Sweet Home Alabama,” “Workin’ For MCA,” and “Free Bird”), and even though the quality of the film reflects the time period (transfer was done well), it would have been nice to see the full-length show from this era.

Nevertheless, the Sweet Home Alabama DVD is a testament on how Skynyrd has remained an unstoppable force, and that nothing can slow them down. In the wake of all that has happened, fans still flock to see them live to this day, where they still play to large sell out crowds – and no one ever complains; they just get the lighters ready for the inevitable performance of the Southern rock national anthem. (Eagle Rock Entertainment) – Review by Tommy "Hashman" Hash

(Click on the DVD cover to buy Sweet Home Alabama from Amazon.com)

Edguy Revisits Its Recent Past

2009-03-08T16:05:00.004-04:00

German heavy metal heroes Edguy have come a long way in a little more than a decade. While the band was formed when many of the principle players were still in their teens, the talents and the ambition of the band members has grown proportionately during the ensuing years.

Nothing if not prolific, Edguy has cranked out almost ten studio and live albums since its inception, as well as a trio of multi-song EPs. The Singles, released to coincide with the U.S. release by Nuclear Blast of Edguy's Tinnitus Sanctus album, is a collection of songs from those three extended play discs. Unlike a lot of band's odds-and-sods collections like this, The Singles is all flurry and no slurry, just fine grab-you-by-the-balls-and-don't-let-go rockers on the power-metal edge.

Opening The Singles, "Superheroes" is one magnificent bastard, a molten slab of livewire power-metal grandeur that layers on Tobias Sammet's soaring vox, jagged shards of frantic guitarplay, and even an orchestral string quartet to create a fusion of high-and-lowbrow rock that will knock you on your ass. "Blessing In Disguise," also from the Superheroes EP, is a moody, atmospheric exercise in dark-hued pop psychology. Sammet's vocals are stretched to their power-ballad best hear, asked to rise from a whisper to a roar above the staggering guitar genius of Jens Ludwig and Dirk Sauer's twin axes.

The romp-and-stomp "Judas In The Opera" gallops across Iron Maiden territory with its dueling wildfire fretwork, rapidfire drumbeaten rhythms, and classically-styled vocals. With guest voice Michael Kiske and an orchestral backing adding to the operatic zeal of the performance, the song's lyrics and extravagant delivery reminds of Freddie Mercury and Queen. It is, indeed, a mini-passion play ripped through in a mere seven minutes plus and a rare moment of pomp-rock among the metal gems found on The Singles.

The raucous "Lavatory Love Machine," from the 2004 EP of the same, is presented here in both full and acoustic versions. The rough-and-tumble original is an engaging stab at sleaze-rock melded with power-and-glory-metal, a meeting of Zodiac Mindwarp and Stratovarius in the high school bathroom of your choice. The "acoustic version" is a bird of an entirely different color, an upbeat and lively rocker with flamboyant feathery, raspy vocals unrestrained by metal conventions, and diamond-hard guitar-strum that adds a fine dimension to the song.

"King of Fools," from the 2004 EP by that name, is a darker, harder, more syncopated firecracker of scraped riffs and explosive rhythms with a mix of echoed, growled, and lofty vocals and bits of odd symphonic synth thrown in for color. "New Age Messiah" may begin with a pastoral intro, but it quickly descends into madness with a rush of shovelhead drumbeats and slaughter-of-the-lambs fretwork.

Even the songs that Edguy choose to cover are choice, from their hauntingly epic take on Magnum's 1982 gem "The Spirit" to Europe's morose "I'll Cry For You," re-imagined here as a lively acoustic-rocker with passionate vocals and strong, supporting guitarwork and vocal harmonies.

Edguy's The Singles closes out with the hilarious "Life And Times Of A Bonus Track," a tongue-in-cheek anthropomorphism of music that speaks of "Chinese bootlegs" and "Russian piracy" while concluding that "I don't give a shit; to me it's all the same, as long as I get all the fame, and the girls know my name." This is sung from the bonus track's point-of-view, of course, so that band doesn't really reveal its own perspective, but it's a fun and funky little diversion nonetheless.

Sure, The Singles may be a collection of the band's also-rans and left-behinds. But that doesn't mean that any given song here is anything less than a high-flying example of Edguy's hard-rocking, melodic power-metal crusade. If you're a hardcore Edguy fan, you probably already own the three EPs that these fourteen TNT-tunes are drawn from. If you only have a couple of Edguy LPs, though, it's well worth your while to check this one out. (Nuclear Blast Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Edguy's The Singles from Amazon.com)

The Moody Blues - Every Good Boy Deserves Favour

2009-02-16T16:57:00.001-05:00

By 1971, the Moody Blues were clearly a band in transition. From the time of their 1967 breakthrough, Days Of Future Passed, the hard-working outfit had delivered six albums in four years with the release of Every Good Boy Deserves Favour. Years of touring had begun to put a strain on the band, and even with five talented songwriters, it had to have become difficult to come up with an album's worth of material every eight or nine months.

Regardless, Every Good Boy Deserves Favour is one of the band's strongest efforts, perhaps because of the tensions growing in the band, not in spite of them. Keyboardist Mike Pinder had begun moving beyond his heavy reliance on the mellotron in creating soundscapes that couldn't be replicated on stage. The band's sound was still as lush as ever, but displayed a tougher edge, with more than a few prog-rock and hard rock tendencies mixed in with the trademark Moody Blues pastoral pop sound.

The album opens with "Procession," the song displaying the band's psych-prog roots…descending on the disc like a wayward flying saucer, Mike Pinder's use of the (then new) Moog synth creates a series of strange, oscillating electronic bleeps and blips. The song goes eerily silent before the sounds of a thunderstorm erupt, and out of the flailing wind and rain comes a solitary voice shouting "desolation."

It's one of three words spoken in this odd little song (the other two being "creation" and "communication"), along with some monk-like chanting, pastoral baroque strings, phantom-of-the-opera-styled Keith Emerson organ grandeur, and shots of electrifying guitar riffs.

Luckily, the hippy-dippy downer-vibe of the nightmarish "Procession" gives way to "The Story In Your Eyes," the album's hit single. An up-tempo rock number with lush instrumentation and driving guitarplay (with a hint of Duane Eddy-styled rockabilly tremolo), the song became a top thirty chart hit on the strength of its prog-pop-vs-hard-rock arrangement and Justin Hayward's razor-sharp fretwork.

There's more to recommend about Every Good Boy Deserves Favour than just "The Story In Your Eyes." The Beatlesque "Emily's Song" uses fine vocal harmonies, a lilting melody, and a gentle instrumental backdrop (including stately cello riffs) to create a dreamy, mesmerizing psyche-pop lovely. Another complex rocker, "After You Came," also makes good use of the band's remarkable harmonies.

A throwback to the adventuresome late-60s British pomp sound, "After You Came" mixes up diamond-edged six-string riffs with the hardest-rocking use of orchestral backing that you might ever hear with solid, fast-moving rhythms, John Lodge's loping bassline, and rapid explosions of sound and color. Like "The Story In Your Eyes," the undeniably proggy "After You Came" is one of the Moody's livelier rock songs.

Other songs here showcase the band member's individual instrumental virtuosity. The mesmerizing "You Can Never Go Home" features some of Hayward's best guitarplay, wiry leads snaking in-and-out of the mix with serpentine fury. "Nice To Be Here" plays to drummer Graeme Edge's strengths, displaying his adventuresome side with muted, albeit galloping drumbeats and clever use of the cymbals. Pinder's keyboard flourishes and synth sounds make full use of the available technology, adding an otherworldly sound to the songs.

The current reissue of Every Good Boy Deserves Favour includes two bonus tracks, including an original version of "The Story In Your Eyes" that includes a longer guitar solo and Hayward's reverb-laden vocal track. Recorded live in the studio, it's a livelier, more energetic reading of the song, but lacks the immediacy and balance of the album version. "The Dreamer," a discarded song from the same first session for the album, is in the same vein as much of the material from On The Threshold Of A Dream…dark, foreboding, with strident vocals and folkish guitarplay.

The Moody Blues would follow Every Good Boy Deserves Favour a year later with Seventh Sojourn, their ninth album and what would prove to be their biggest commercial success yet. (Threshold/Universal Music)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Every Good Boy Deserves Favour from Amazon.com)