Trademark Of Quality

Stace England's Salt Sex Slaves

2008-05-11T15:09:00.003-04:00

Singer/songwriter Stace

is a man of grand ideas and an infinite sense of history. England doesn’t write about a subject so much as he inhabits it, body and soul. Case in point: Salt Sex Slaves, a concept album about a sordid, mostly-forgotten era of Illinois history. Salt was the currency of the day in the mid-1800s, and although slavery was outlawed in the free state of Illinois, a loophole allowed slaves to be leased to work in the salt mines of Equality.

Here are the stories, then, of both the slaves and their master, salt magnate John Crenshaw. During a single year, Crenshaw leased almost 800 slaves from Kentucky and other states to work under inhuman conditions in the region's salt mines. Crenshaw's other source of income was kidnapping free blacks and selling them back into slavery, as reprehensible an action as any intelligent person could imagine. England cuts the long-dead slavemaster no slack even as he lyrically champions the brave African-American men and women that survived their trials and tribulations in Equality.

England’s stories of heroes and villains are supported by a rocking, rootsy soundtrack that lends urgency to his finely-crafted lyrics. A Keith Richards-styled riff kicks off the title track, but the bluesy lyrics are straight from any Mississippi Delta plantation. Another riff-driven rocker, "Liberty and the Baptists," tells the story of the unpopular Emancipation Baptist church that fought against the immoral slave trade. Illinois native son Jason Ringenberg drops by to lend his soulful vocals to the traditional abolitionist ballad “Freedom’s Star,” while "Rationalize" does a great job of illustrating people's ability to close their eyes in indifference to injustice.

The rest of Salt Sex Slaves also showcases England’s impressive and entertaining storytelling prowess, from the mythology of slave-breeding machine "Uncle" Bob Wilson, to ghost tales, and even the story of Crenshaw's eventual comeuppance. England is a clever and intelligent lyricist, shoehorning the words into a song to tell the whole story rather than allowing the facts to be obscured by brevity. The Salt Kings are a top-notch band, and when neccessary, England recruits friends from other fine Illinois musical outfits as the Woodbox Gang and Black Forties.

Although many concept albums are self-involved flights of fancy for songwriters, England has a purpose and a perceived responsibility to keep this history alive. Others may do so through academic works, but as a singer and songwriter of considerable talent, Stace England prefers to give voice to these long-forgotten stories, freeing the spirits of the past by throwing their songs to the wind. (Rank Outsider Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Salt Sex Slaves from Amazon.com)

MP3s:
Stace England & The Salt Kings - "Rationalize"
Stace England & The Salt Kings -"Freedom's Star"
Stace England & The Salt Kings - "Salt Sex Slaves"

Man Rocks The Roadhouse!

2008-05-06T20:54:00.001-04:00

First things first – ya gotta remember that this is a DVD of a 32-year-old concert film. If you're expecting a lovely, multi-camera digital tape with pristine 5.1 surround sound, well, you're living in the wrong era, Charlie Brown. What you do get from At The Roundhouse 1976 is an engaging vintage performance by one of rock music's most overlooked prog-oriented bands, Man.

At The Roundhouse 1976 features, perhaps, Man's best line-up as far as pure talent and chemistry is concerned. The performance captured on tape includes vocalist/guitarist Mickey Jones, guitarist/vocalist Deke Leonard, keyboardist Phil Ryan, bassist John McKenzie, and extraordinary drummer Terry Williams. Man was formed by Jones and Leonard in 1969 in Swansea, Wales and was originally considered somewhat of a pub-rock band. Influenced by the San Francisco sound of bands like Quicksilver Messenger Service, Man also incorporated elements of blues, psychedelic and prog-rock into their unique sound.

Over the course of the band's history, Deke Leonard would depart and return a number of times, recording brilliant solo albums before coming back to the comfort of the band atmosphere. Guitarist and keyboardist Clive John was an original member of Man, leaving during the mid-70s to pursue a solo career that resulted in a single highly-collectible album before disappearing from the scene. Williams, who came on board for the band's self-titled third album, would later play with both Rockpile and Dire Straits.

At The Roundhouse 1976 was originally designed to be the band's swansong, a final shot at glory captured for the ages on celluloid. After 1,500+ performances and 13 albums over the course of eight years, the band had decided to call it a day. Man returned to the site of their greatest triumph, London's Roundhouse, where they had experienced their breakthrough performance for the Greasy Truckers Party benefit show and resulting LP. The band decided to say "farewell" to their fans with three nights at the Roundhouse, which were filmed for this DVD.

At The Roundhouse 1976 kicks off with the bluesy "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You," a rock-and-soul song with a distinctive rhythmic groove, Jone's pleading vocals, and tasty twin guitars that mimic Quicksilver Messenger Service (just one of the band's numerous influences). QMS had often performed this song in their early-70s concerts, and QMS guitarist John Cippolina had appeared with Man during the band's 1975 tour, Man and Cippolina jamming together on the tune. Man kept the song in their setlist, and here it's captured for posterity in all of its funky glory!

"C'Mon" follows, beginning as a raucous call-and-response styled rocker with an odd, spacey interlude in the middle. Jones sings some nonsensical lyrics that are wedded to the strange tones that coaxes from his guitar. As the song stretches out, the band wanders into uncharted territory, each instrumentalist adding their own color to the overall musical tapestry. Leonard provides a few scorching leads, Williams' powerful drums support the song's unlikely structure, and Ryan's keys lend an otherworldly hue to the song. The result is a breathtaking, unconventional jam.

"Let The Good Times Roll" is a jazzy blues romp. Leonard's vocals aren't particularly suited to the song, but they're supported by Jones' soulful backing vox. McKenzie sets a steady bass groove and Leonard's stinging six-string accomplishes the expression that his voice couldn't. "7171-551" is a swaggering, riff-driven up-tempo rocker that showcases Jones' wild guitar leads and Leonard's more deliberate, scorched-earth style. Both axemen rock hard throughout the song, infusing the rhythm with a thunderstorm of lightning fretwork and squalls of sound.

Leonard's edgy, rough-hewn vocals are better-suited to "Born With A Future," a less-than-subtle raver that provides short, sharp shocks of guitar pyrotechnics. There's an unexpected slow passage where Jones lends his vocals above washes of keyboards, before he and Leonard dive into some fine harmonies. Leonard provides the song with some first class axe-mangling, riffing madly with reckless abandon as Jones throws his single-note leads into the deep, chaotic instrumentation.

The longtime audience favorite "Bananas" is provided an OTT performance; a balls-out rocker that fades into near silence before swelling with Ryan's evervesant keyboard romps and Williams' steady, potent drumbeats and fills. Jones adds a finely-crafted solo with hints of rich tone and McKenzie's bass work is funky without overpowering the song's unique vibe. Leonard's vocals are crazed here, swapping back-and-forth with Jones more grounded voice, and the song ends the show as a last-man-standing instrumental free-for-all.

At The Roundhouse 1976 provides the viewer with a true concert atmosphere, sans smoke and crowd noise. The band's performance is shot mostly in close-ups, more than likely by a lone pair of cameras. The DVD's sound is quite good and consistent throughout, much better than I would have though given the age of the concert. Lighting is as good as one could hope for: spotlights sometime flare up into mini-sunspots of white light, but mostly the visuals are clear and well-lit. In-between songs, especially near the beginning, there are brief interviews and commentary by the band and its fans, and backstage footage shows the various band members loose and ready to roll. Forget about the tracklist on the rear of the DVD box, 'cause it's just plain wrong – the way that I outlined the performances above is how they play out on your TV screen.

By 1976, virtually all of Man's progressive elements had largely disappeared from the band's music, replaced by a hard rock edge that benefited from their explosive twin guitars and the powerful drumming of Terry Williams. Man would break-up after these Roundhouse performances, and a final live album culled from the shows would be released in '77 as All's Well That Ends Well.

Jones would reunite with Leonard as Man a few years later, however, and over the past 25+ years former Man band members like Williams, Ryan and original bassist Martin Ace would rotate in and out of the roster for performances and recordings (many live). Man continues to perform in Europe to this day, and released the band's most recent album, Diamonds and Coal, in 2007. (Music Video Distributors)

(Click on the DVD cover to buy At The Roundhouse 1976 from Amazon.com)

Man - "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You"

Revisiting the Greasy Truckers Party

2008-05-04T17:12:00.007-04:00

The "Greasy Truckers Party" was a benefit show for Greasy Truckers, an English flower-power group raising money for a number of social causes. Held at The Roundhouse in London on February 13, 1972, the showbill featured the improbable trio of Hawkwind, Brinsley Schwarz and Man. Originally released as a two-album set back in the day, the original eight-track tapes were recently unearthed, cleaned up, and reissued as a proper thee-disc set featuring complete performances from each of the three headlining bands. In a couple of cases (Man, Brinsley Schwarz), the chance to hear the complete set is quite breathtaking – on the original LP, for instance, only two of Man's five distinctive performances were offered, tho' that did include the incredible "Spunk Rock."

Prog-rockers Man opened the show strong with a set that included their impressive twenty-two-minute jam "Spunk Rock." The song features some incredible interstellar fretwork from Mickey Jones and Deke Leonard, the two guitarists seemingly engaged in some earth-shaking duel as their jagged riffs and razor-sharp leads intertwine like concertina wire. Drummer Terry Williams acts as both a referee and a cheerleader here, his steady, explosive drumbeats providing a constant barrage of rhythm and noise for the two six-string gladiators to build upon. The song's ever-shifting time signatures, emotions and directions is enough to put many of today's limp-wristed so-called "virtuoso" jam bands to shame.

It would be tempting to say that the remainder of Man's set was a letdown after the high-flying antics of "Spunk Rock," but 'tain't so … the band clearly set the bar high and then attempts to demolish it with an impressive set of material, the band clearly influenced by the sounds emanating from San Francisco over the previous five years. Shimmering guitars and subdued rhythms lead into the scary, riff-driven, semi-psychedelic "Many Are Called But Few Get Up," which sounds eerily like Volunteers-era Jefferson Starship at their dark, menacing, flower-power-is-kaput best. Once again, Williams' machine-gun drumbeats provide the foundation for some really spacey and entertaining guitarwork.

"Angel Easy," the other carryover from the original "Truckers" LP, is a shorter, more traditionally-structured rocker with distant vocals and a slightly funky rhythmic undercurrent. Whether it's Leonard or Jones kicking in the notes here, the guitars set the pace for the song to rumble along like QMS on any given night at the Fillmore.

The fourteen-minute "Bananas" sounds every bit like the band had been torching some peels on its way to the show, a mild hallucinogenic cloud settling over a rollicking pub-rock rhythm. The song extends for a whopping 14-plus, tho', which lends itself to all sorts of cosmic abuse, lane changes, and slippery mountain curves. The set-closing "Romain" is pure electric-booger-rawk, with long sweeping rhythms, bent-wire guitar tones and some of the most brilliantly bombastic drumming that you'll ever hear.

Hawkwind closed the show with its unique psychedelic space-rock, punctuated by Robert Calvert’s bizarro poetry. The Hawks' set suffered from some initial sound and power problems – a bit of a drag, indeed, for a band whose entire vibe was built upon the manic manipulation of the sonic realm. Nevertheless, by the time that the band gets its set off the ground and launched towards the stratosphere with the lengthy "You Shouldn't Do That," the chemically-assisted among the audience were soaring wing-to-wing alongside 'em, if you know what I mean (and I think that you do). After all, this was '72 kiddies, and mind-altering goodies like LSD and 'shrooms, and even peyote had yet to be bulldozed in favor of the extreme highs-and-lows of coke and 'ludes (and the coming tragedy of the disco era).

Even if many in attendance had brought their aviator helmets and flight jackets with them, nothing could have prepared them for the lightspeed, white lightning, brightly-flashing magic migraine that was Hawkwind in its prime. This is Lemmy the K era 'wind, with wings of razor-sharp titanium and the most god-awful sonic roar heard this side of purgatorio. "You Shouldn't Do That" starts with the sound of full-thrust afterburners and steadily climbs to a crescendo build upon shards of crystal riffage, claustrophobic drumbeats, and switchblade synthesizers. You didn't have to be as high as a Greek god sitting in a stupor on Mount Olympus to enjoy this stuff, but it didn't hurt any, either.

Not that the old Reverend would prescribe dangerous substances to his gentle readers, but as one who was around back in '72 and … ahem … as someone with a taste for various illicit mind-benders and cerebellum-snacks, Hawkwind was definitely playing my song. "The Awakening" is like falling headfirst into a shimmering puddle of quicksand, as slug-like, squiggly guitar lines and odd bodkins synth-squawks leave a slimy, colorful trail across your skullpan. "Master Of The Universe" is a delightful proto-metal spacewalk with stunning fretwork, Lemmy's incandescently heavy basslines, and steady backbreaking rhythms clearly spawning the entire glut of "New Wave of British Heavy Metal" bands that would stumble into the future from the Roundhouse's doorstep that night.

Of course, Hawkwind was never a band to leave an audience simply awestruck when they had a real opportunity to thoroughly reprogram their collective gray matter (reference: the band's subsequent Space Ritual LP). Devoid of hope, the dark vibe of "Paranoia" is overwhelming in its desperation, but the short, sweet, shock-to-the-brain that is "Earth Calling" is pure Kafka set to something that approximates music, an alien-encounter with intense-sound-and-emotion unheard of in these parts of the galaxy. The out-of-this-world, hard rocking "Silver Machine" was as close to a hit song as Hawkwind's merry pranksters were ever going to experience (albeit in a slightly different form). Almost traditional in its rock-and-roll aspirations, the song includes some high-flying synth work among its scorching guitars and driving rhythms nonetheless.

The band's final tune here, the free-form "Brainstorm," is a cosmic-orgy of massive proportions, a sheer lysergic-fueled attempt at traversing time and space, a mock-battle where no single instrument dominates, but rather they tend to all meld together into a singular noisy conglomeration of sound and fury. When a random guitar or voice does manage to break out of the musical miasma, it's only to herd the listener back into the hive with electric cattle-prod efficiency. This is the kind of transcendent, out-of-control moment at which Hawkwind often excelled, and their attempt to rewrite the laws of physics that February night back in '72 is duly appreciated.

In the middle of the night, however, tucked between the two dynamic, prog-oriented monoliths, was Brinsley Schwarz (with a pre-cool Nick Lowe). The pub-rockers faced down a hostile crowd, winning them over with their exclusive blend of pre-No Depression twang-rock and blue-eyed soul. Whereas the previous two bands left the audience in awe of their mighty instrumental powers, the Brinsley boys pursued a vision of pure songcraft with actual melodies, choruses, and catchy hooks. "Country Girl," one of the band's signature songs, is a gently-rolling Byrdsian outtake with more keyboards and less 12-string, while "One More Day" is a playful mid-tempo country rocker that would have fit right in on any Uncle Tupelo album.

The R&B stomp-and-stammer of the vintage Otis Rush tune "Home Work" benefits from some manic string-mangling, while the Nick Lowe rocker "Nervous On The Road (But Can't Stay At Home)" offers up swaggering soulfulness, Bob Andrews' Staxian keyboard riffing, fine vocals and subtle touches of rockabilly-tinged guitar. Blessed with two considerable songwriters in Lowe and Ian Gomm, the band had a wealth of material to choose from. Gomm's "Range War" is a romping, stomping melodic twangfest that expands upon late-era-Byrds with ringing guitars, rapidfire keyboard-bashing and some truly odd lyrics – something about an Old West fracas with six-shooters and, for some strange reason worthy of Hawkwind's poetic nightmares, Marvel Comics' anti-hero the Silver Surfer.

The traditional "Midnight Train" is provided an appropriately raucous reading, with some crafty honky-tonk piano, twangy vocals, and South Nashville chicken-picking. The savvy "It's Just My Way Of Saying Thank You" offers whip-smart lyrics, strutting keyboard-led rhythms, and great live harmonies. A cover of Allen Toussaint's New Orleans soul classic "Wonder Woman" offers a lively rhythmic soundtrack, Andrews' finest Booker T-influenced pianowork, and some Steve Cropper-styled wiry fretwork.

Brinsley Schwarz's fourth album, 1972's Silver Pistol, included two songs from obscure American folk-rock songwriter Jim Ford; one of those is performed here – the blues-tinged, countryish "I'm Ahead If I Can Quit While I'm Behind." Paradoxical title aside, the song is a freak-folk ballad featuring Schwarz's finely-crafted guitarwork, mournful vocals, and weeping rhythms … a heartbreaking hillbilly lament if ever there was one. Lowe's wonderful "Surrender To The Rhythm" is a fine example of what Brinsley Schwarz did best, a seamless fusion of Nashville-by-way-of-Camden-twang with a rolling R&B backbone, '60s-era pop aspirations and an "anything goes" '70s rock mentality that lends a timeless quality to a relatively obscure but vastly underrated pub-rock genre.

Sadly, rather than closing on a high note with the delightful "Surrender To The Rhythm," the second CD in this set instead crawls out on all fours with the atrocious hippie-cretin blathering of Magic Michael. The sort of free-spirited acid-casualty that the late-60s and early-70s spit out by the handful, Magic Michael haunted London's rock underground like a drooling phantom, often gracing the stage during mid-band set changes, offering the audience the measure of his limitless lack of talent. Michael's "Music Belongs To The People" is a mindless, improvised mess including members of the audience climbing onstage to "jam" alongside the magic one's yelping vocals and cacophonic guitar strumming. This insipid, fetid chunk of stoner-era trash wouldn't cut the mustard at the height of Flower Power's drug-fueled insanity; in this day-and-age, it's more painful than a botched root canal by a drunken dentist.

If this all sounds like an odd combination of music that I've described for you all well, yeah, it is. Any one of these three bands stands on its own, and all three are distinctly different in both style and ambition. That was the magic of the early-70s, however … long before corporate radio and major label homogenization lowered expectations across the board, young music fans had a gluttonous buffet of bands to choose from, and we often ate from the trough with glee.

It was a high-flying time for music-as-culture, and art often times outweighed commerce. Although it's unlikely that a performance of the diversity and scope of the Greasy Truckers Party could take place these days, the album represents more than a mere cultural artifact – Greasy Truckers Party also captures a magical night of music. (Liberty Records)

Photos of Man, Hawkwind and Brinsley Schwarz taken from the great Greasy Truckers Party CD booklet, which includes more photos and extensive liner notes on the evening.

(Click on the CD cover to buy Greasy Truckers Party from Amazon.com)

MP3s:
Man - "Angel Easy"
Hawkwind - "Master Of The Universe"
Brinsley Schwarz - "Country Girl"
Brinsley Schwarz - "Surrender To The Rhythm"

Blue Oyster Cult's Lost Album - Imaginos

2008-04-20T17:00:00.003-04:00

One of the most commercially successful and critically-acclaimed rock bands in American history, Blue Oyster Cult created the perfect fusion of '60s pop and '70s proto-metal that would have a profound influence on the evolution of both hard rock and heavy metal in the decades to follow. Intellectual, but reveling in their counter-culture roots, lyrically the band mixed elements of mythology, the occult and contemporary literature with science fiction and horror film trash culture in the creation of a new musical paradigm that celebrated high-and-lowbrow culture equally.

The earliest roots of the band lie in the relationship between two students at Stony Brook College on Long Island. As far back as 1967, Sandy Pearlman and future rock critic Richard Meltzer had plans to conquer the rock & roll world. With Pearlman managing the band and both he and Meltzer writing lyrics, they put together a group that included the core of the future BOC – guitarist Donald "Buck Dharma" Roeser, keyboardist Allen Lanier, and drummer Albert Bouchard – known as Soft White Underbelly.

Signed to Elektra Records, Soft White Underbelly recorded an unreleased album and subsequently changed the band's name to Oaxaca before settling on being called the Stalk-Forrest Group. A second album recorded for the label was also buried in the vaults, although a single was later released under the Stalk-Forrest Group name. Dropped by the label and shuffling personnel, they changed their name once again to Blue Oyster Cult and signed with Columbia Records, which is where the BOC story really begins.

The band's self-titled album was released in 1972 and scraped the bottom of the charts. This must have been good enough to partially satisfy the label, as they were attempting to promote BOC as their very own homegrown version of Black Sabbath. The debut album's fortunes were helped by the media-savvy promotional efforts of Pearlman and Meltzer, as well as the creation of the band's ubiquitous hook-and-cross logo, an important precursor to the imaginative logo designs of heavy metal bands in the decade to follow.

Tyranny & Mutation followed in 1973, and Secret Treaties in 1974, each album experienced higher sales numbers. The powerful live double-album, On Your Feet Or On Your Knees, was released in '75, but it would be the following year's effort, Agents Of Fortune, that would prove to be the band's commercial breakthrough. Yielding a Top 40 single in "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," the album would be the first in a string of Gold and Platinum-selling discs that culminated five years later with 1981's Fire Of Unknown Origin.

The band stumbled badly, however, both commercially and creatively, into the new decade. Original members had left the band, or been asked to leave, and weak studio albums like 1983's The Revolution at Night and 1986's Club Ninja alienated long-time fans. With only Dharma and Eric Bloom left from the band's original line-up, BOC continued to tour. Released in 1988, the band's 14th album, Imaginos, would also be its last at the time.

Back at the dawn of the '80s, however, Imaginos was originally planned by former BOC drummer Albert Bouchard to be a solo work, a concept album based on a song cycle created by Sandy Pearlman back during the late-60s. Almost six years in the making, Imaginos includes instrumental contributions from several of Bouchard's NYC friends, including bassist Kenny Aaronson and guitarists Joe Satriani, Aldo Nova and Robbie Krieger of the Doors.

When Bouchard was nearing the finish line with Imaginos, he found out that the record label wasn't exactly enamored of his efforts. They would only agree to release the album under the Blue Oyster Cult name, so the master tapes were sent to Pearlman and the band overdubbed vocals and instrumentation. Thus the incorrect appearance that BOC had reformed with its original line-up, including Albert Bouchard…but it was all on paper, folks. Met with confusion by fans and critics alike, and under-promoted to death by the label, Imaginos was deemed an overall failure. BOC was subsequently dropped from Columbia after an almost 20-year association with the label.

Long out-of-print, and the subject of no little discussion by Blue Oyster Cult fans through the years, thanks to the good folks at American Beat we have a reissued/remastered version of Imaginos to judge on its own merits. Musically, the album-opening "I Am The One You Warned Me Of" spanks-and-cranks with typical period metal overtones, with heavy riffing, clean ringing guitars and Bloom vocals that sound eerily like Secret Treaties-era BOC. Slower-paced than the band's early-70s brain-bashers, the song is no less menacing. "Les Invisibles" is more contradictory, featuring some delectable, deliberate skull-bashing fretwork and rhythms…but the constant refrain of "seven, seven, seven" is more irritating than an itchy straitjacket, and as unnecessary to the grand design of life as ticks and garden slugs.

"In The Presence Of Another World" is a vintage BOC face-burner, opening with elegant six-string plundering before kicking into some sort of sci-fi soundscape with soaring vocal harmonies and crunchy riffage courtesy of Mr. Dharma. "Del Rio's Song" offers up some fine lead vocals but little in the way of substance; lacking distinctive instrumentation (or else it's buried too deep in the mix), it's a pleasant diversion and nothing more. "The Siege And Investiture Of Baron von Frankenstein's Castle At Weisseria" is as epic and long-winded as the song's title. Sounding like an outtake from a Ronnie James Dio album, the song showcases Joe Satriani's scorching six-string leads. The song kind of grows on you, as blustery as it is, and it's an excellent example of early prog-metal overkill.

"Astronomy" should be familiar to any BOC fan; originally included on Secret Treaties, the song sits perfectly at the intersection of the band's science-fiction fantasies and fantastic metal proclivities. "Magna Of Illusion" has delusions of grandeur, but it also includes some nifty Robbie Krieger guitar noodling, so I'll begrudgingly swallow the song's hackneyed lyrical aspirations. "Blue Oyster Cult," the song, bites down hard; a re-working of the original tune "Subhuman" from Secret Treaties, which was derived from "Blue Oyster Cult" to begin with (calling M.C. Escher), this is one limp biscuit nonetheless.

I'll call the title track a draw – although it could have sorely benefited from some big-lunged Eric Bloom vocal expertise, it kicks in with some tasty licks and keyboard riffs that rescue it from oblivion. Bloom is absent without leave from much of Imaginos, leaving the bulk of the vocal weightlifting to the capable Buck Dharma. When any of the guest vocalists kick in on a song, it's either cringeworthy, or as slight as to be as easily forgotten as last week's hangover.

As stated before, Imaginos is a conceptual song-cycle, something about a big-haired meanie that travels through time to stomp on our hopes and dreams, or some other late-60s lysergic-fueled narrative. Much like early Voivod albums, you have no idea what the hell they're talking about – you just sit back and try to enjoy the ride. By the Reverend's count, you have five bona fide BOC gems on Imaginos, three whiffballs, and one plea of "nolo contendre." That's close enough for rock & roll in my book, and certainly a better batting average than many of today's pud-pounding corporate rockers.

So, just where does Imaginos fall in the BOC canon? With the benefit of 20 years of hindsight, I'd say that it's certainly better than either of the band's two previous '80s-era albums, and it's perhaps the band's most overtly metallicized effort, ever. In spite of all the cooks here adding their own ingredients to the gumbo, some of that tasty BOC flavor rises to the top regardless. While Imaginos won't prompt any fans to pawn their copies of Agents Of Fortune or Fires Of Unknown Origin (or the classic first three BOC ear-mashers, either), you won't embarrass yourself by owning a copy, either. (American Beat Records)

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

MP3s:
Blue Oyster Cult - "I Am The One You Warned Me Of"
Blue Oyster Cult - "In The Presence Of Another World"

Born To Be Wilder

2008-04-06T16:07:00.004-04:00

Webb Wilder deserves better than he's gotten from the music biz. During a ten-year period circa 1986-96, the larger-then-life performer delivered five simply brilliant albums that combined roots-rock, rockabilly, hillbilly, honky-tonk, surf-rock and rockin-blues. Although WW developed a cult following stateside, along with a significant European fan base, Wilder never got the break that would have broken him to a larger mainstream U.S. audience. Instead, much of his back catalog lies wrapped up in legal contradictions and label politics, with only Wilder's indie-label-released debut, It Came From Nashville, re-purposed for the digital age.

Better than 20 years after the release of Wilder's breathless debut album, the singer and a modernized version of his 'Beatnecks' band are still spankin-and-crankin' out the tunes. In 2005, WW and crew released About Time, their first work in almost nine years, a collection of inspired covers along with a handful of Bobby Field originals. The acclaim enjoyed by About Time would directly lead to the recording of the live album at hand, Born To Be Wilder. Captured onstage at a Birmingham, Alabama club in August 2005, the performance was also taped for a subsequent DVD release.

For those of you keeping score at home, here's the straight poop: Born To Be Wilder is, track-by-track, identical to the bonus CD that came with Wilder's 2006 DVD release, Live In Concert. So, if you have that DVD, then Born To Be Wilder is probably unnecessary…unless you want an easier-to-transport copy of the disc in its own case to throw in your car (for those of you who haven't given up and joined the iPod generation). To further complicate matters, this same live set was also released in Europe by Dixiefrog Records as It's Live Time! Did all of you get that? Good.

Born To Be Wilder features fifteen songs, about a third of 'em from About Time, the rest culled from the artist's deep back catalog. Some of these are Wilder classics, and songs like "Tough It Out," the rollicking "Poolside," "How Long Can She Last" and the crowd-pleasing "One Taste of The Bait" stand up to repeated listening in any setting. They're all just well-constructed, superbly-performed story-songs with a strong rock-n-roll heartbeat. Some of the newer material measures up well, especially the cover of obscure country vocalist (and my former neighbor) Tommy Overstreet's honky-tonk weeper, "If You're Looking For A Fool."

Unfortunately, there's something vital missing from Born To Be Wilder. The usually brilliant R.S. "Bobby" Field's production falls short here. Whereas Field, who has worked with Wilder since high school in Mississippi, typically captures the mythical WW sound perfectly, these performances seem to have been stripped of their spontaneity, grit and muscle. The sound is too antiseptic, the recording far too slick and well-mannered to effectively convey the WW vibe.

A share of the blame should be levied on Wilder and his band as well, all of which are solid, if not usually spectacular players. The performances here are mostly all lacking the nearly-supernatural, raw rock & roll vibe of a typical Web Wilder show; not surprisingly, the older material fares better. But simply listen to the '80s-era live tracks tacked onto the end of the It Came From Nashville and you'll hear the stark difference for yourself. Although most of the songs here are road-tested, tried-and-true rockin' foo, Born To Be Wilder simply lacks the one-shot knockout punch we've come to expect from Webb.

In this light, I'd grade Born To Be Wilder with a reluctant 'B'…still better than just about any other wet-behind-the-ears, roots-rock rug-rats that you'll run across in this day and time, but a far cry from the A+ work delivered by WW on Doo Dad or Acres Of Suede, or even the A- I'd award to About Time. Maybe age is catching up with the big man, maybe this was just an off night, but when you set the bar as high as Wilder has in the past, you have to be spry enough to either jump over or limbo under…and Born To Be Wilder does neither. (Blind Pig Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Born To Be Wilder from Amazon.com)

MP3s:
Webb Wilder - "Louisiana Hannah"
Webb Wilder - "One Taste Of The Bait"

It's A Good Life, After All....

2008-04-06T15:39:00.003-04:00

When you’re the son of a bona fide Americana music legend, and named after one of greatest songwriters of the genre (Townes Van Zandt), expectations are high. With his full-length debut, The Good Life, Justin Townes Earle delivers everything expected of him in spades. Not content to merely mimic his dad’s work, the younger Earle takes his impressive songwriting skills in a number of diverse directions. Whereas his pappy's music tends to draw more from both rock and folk worlds, the younger Earle instead goes in the other direction, pulling the best from the Tennessee and Texas hillbilly traditions.

Growing up in a musical household, Earle had the opportunity to soak in all sorts of influences, and it shows in his work. An eerily-mature songwriter that is skilled beyond his years, Earle easily weaves together story-songs in his dad's image, but with his own voice and a widely differing soundtrack. The title track from The Good Life is a delicious ‘60s-styled country throwback that sounds like a classic Faron Young tune, while the heartbreaking “Who Am I To Say” is reminiscent of namesake Van Zandt’s stark folk poetry.

Other songs on The Good Life showcase Earle's mastery of a diverse range of country styles. “Lone Pine Hill” is a haunting Western dirge and “What Do You Do When You’re Lonesome” is a weepy Texas dancehall ballad. "South Georgia Sugar Babe" is a bluesy, Southern rock/R&B hybrid with gumbo-funk rhythms while "Lonesome And You," with its mournful steel guitar and slow shuffle, is the sort of honky-tonk country that Ernest Tubb could crank out in his sleep. "Turn Out My Lights" is a delicate, finely-crafted folk ballad…and about as close as Justin gets to sounding like his famous father.

The vocals on The Good Life are warm, certain and soulful throughout, and producer R.S. "Bobby" Field's deft hand and extensive roots-music knowledge allowed him to bring out the best in Earle, perfectly capturing the artist's eclectic sound. With boundless ambition and loads of talent, Earle easily ties together strains of roots-rock, folk-blues, Tex-Mex, Western Swing and traditional country in the creation of an amazing, remarkable debut album. (Bloodshot Records)

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

MP3s:
Justin Townes Earle - "The Good Life"
Justin Townes Earle - "What Do You Do When You're Lonesome"

The Mooney Suzuki live at CBGB!

2008-03-30T11:26:00.000-04:00

Well kiddies, that whole garage rock thing from the early-00s seems to be just about dead-and-buried, so perhaps it's time to let go of its stinkin' corpse and pronounce T-O-D, already. Just sayin'…hell, the White Stripes are the only band with legs to survive the glut, and they were always more than a mere two-cars-and-a-toolbox, anyway. More like an ever-evolving force o' nature, that Jack White. Sure, the Raveonettes are still kickin' it, and maybe one or two others, but crank-spankers like the Vines, the Hives, Jet and their assorted drinkin' buddies have all either dropped below the radar or imploded in the face of the next new impending label-driven trend (which I'm guessin' will be electro-polka).

For my money – which is Canadian by the way, this close to the border (better exchange rate these days) – NYC's fabulous homegrown buzzsaws the Mooney Suzuki were among the cream-o-the-crop when it came to this three-chords-anna-roof garagey thing. Sure, they weren't Sky Saxon & the Seeds (but then again, who is?) but they knew their way around a beat like nobody since Moulty, and they could tell the difference between a fuzztone and shinola. Besides, listening to their high-octane blend of Chuck Berry and the Rolling Stones, the MC5 and the British Invasion (the first one, with the Kinks and the Who, fool), you just knew that they had a bitchin' record collection.

The band had already been knockin' around the Big Apple for a few years before they recorded People Get Ready for Estrus Records in 2000, and they followed it up a couple years later with the mondo-giant, grunt-rock classic Electric Sweat for local NYC indie Gammon. These two pulsating slabs o' hot wax is what earned the Mooney Suzuki a big league deal, and Columbia Records thought that they had them a bona fide garage rock goldmine ready for plunder. Sadly, since major labels run on stupid and move at the speed of slug, by the time that the band's Alive & Amplified hit the shelves in '04, the garage trend had peaked and hipsters were jumping ship like politicians fleeing a scandal.

Rescued from the CBGB tape vault, Live June 29, 2001 – The Bowery Collection is a dynamite live collection of slash-n-burn rockers from the Mooney Suzuki. Recorded on the famed CBGB stage a couple of months before the release of Electric Sweat, this album's tracklist is split around 60%-40% between the upcoming album and People Get Ready…which is a fine thing, to be sure. This is the Mooney Suzuki at their rippin', snortin', turf-stompin' best.

The Mooney Suzuki start their set with the rumbling instrumental "It's Showtime Pt.1," which is part-Stax raver and part-MC5 kickin' out the jams on the Detroit tip. It quickly melds into the fantastic Yardbirds-influenced "In A Young Man's Mind," but with more feedback and cacophony than the British legends could muster…more like the Sonic Rendezvous Band, really. Sammy James is singing, "in a young man's mind, it's a simple world, there's a little room for music, and the rest is girls" while the band smashes bricks or something behind him, probably with greasy axes and a ten-pound sledge.

The rest of Live June 29, 2001 – The Bowery Collection kind of by roars past you, like the muzzle-flash from a semi-auto blowin' by at 3200fps a little too close to your noggin. "Everything's Gone Wrong" starts with a nuclear blast before spiraling into a runaway blitzkrieg of soulful vocals, screaming guitars and good old-fashioned landmine drumbeats. "Oh Sweet Susanna" is as close to a blues song as the Mooney Suzuki is going to ever get, with a few slurred lyrics and a couple o' nifty licks. It's a safe bet, tho', that no Delta musician on either side of the grave would recognize the critter. The sound and fury of "A Little Bit Of Love" woulda, coulda, shoulda been a monster radio hit if the band's label had half an iota of sense. Sheer British Invasion vibe with cool vocal harmonies and a ramshackle chorus, I imagine that this tasty lil' sucker would add a couple of hundred horsepower to your car's engine any time it came on the radio.

Mastered from tapes long squirreled away by CBGB founder Hilly Kristal, the sound on Live June 29, 2001 – The Bowery Collection is not as pristine as a digitally-gelded studio creation. The performances are a little noisy, clanking and clanging a bit here and there as the band teeters on the edge of chaos. There's a slight echo in the room and, at times, bass-heavy muddiness threatens to swallow the vocals.

But this isn't a low-budget bootleg, nosirree…it sounds just fine with the volume inched up a bit more than usual, and the production is as good as you're going to get from a soundboard tape recorded in a dive as dank and sound-hostile as the shotgun edifice of CBGB was. In short, Live June 29, 2001 – The Bowery Collection sounds as close as you're ever gonna get to actually standing in front of the stage, being anointed by the Mooney Suzuki's holy electric sweat.

Bottom line – this is a great live document of a band that could have been a contender instead of just another footnote in that big book o' rock & roll. If you don't like this stuff, then you've either been sippin' your granny's vitamin tonic or else you've assumed room temperature. Either way, it don't matter, 'cause the Rev says, "check it out!" (CBGB Masters / MVD Audio)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Live June 29, 2001 from Amazon.com)

MP3s:
The Mooney Suzuki - "A Little Bit Of Love"
The Mooney Suzuki - "In A Young Man's Mind"

Return of the Romantics!

2008-03-30T11:04:00.002-04:00

The Reverend was lucky enough to have lived in Detroit circa 1979-80, drinking in a local music scene that remains, in my mind (and that of a lot of Motor City geezers of a similar vintage), as one of the best that's ever been, anywhere. Yeah, you may not have heard of a lot of 'em, but bands like the Mutants, Flirt, Coldcock and Cinecyde cranked out a lot of great music back in the day. The city's music scene was moving beyond its bloody history as a pre-punk, proto-metal, lord of the flies killing fields (a rep built on the carcasses left behind by the likes of the Stooges and MC5, but also other late-60s/early-70s Detroit bands like SRC, Frost, Third Power and the Amboy Dukes).

By 1977, when things really begun hopping across the pond in the U.K., Detroit bands had started branching off into every musical direction they could think of – pop, power-pop, rock, punk rock, metal, noise and, of course, the white light/white heat of the mighty Sonic Rendezvous Band. On any given night of the week circa 1977-81, you could catch somebody tearing up the stage at Uncle Jams, the New Miami, or one of a dozen other area clubs. One of the most popular local outfits on the scene was the Romantics. With matching red leather outfits (as seen on the cover of their debut album), and a blistering, red-hot live show that would burn up just about any stage they set a match to, the question of the band's ascendency to the major leagues wasn't "if," but rather "when."

Formed in 1977, the Romantics issued an independent single on their own, "Little White Lies" backed with "I Can't Tell You Anything." Championed by Blitz, Mike McDowell's local music zine, the band's high-flying regional shows brought them to the attention of Bomp Records' pop guru Greg Shaw, who released the band's second single, the delightful "Tell It To Carrie," backed with the equally marvelous rave-up "First In Line." Major label interest ensued, and the band eventually signed with Nemperor, an Epic Records imprint that also boasted of Steve Forbert's seminal early work.

In late-1979, Nemperor/Epic Records released the Romantics self-titled debut album. Almost lost beneath a landslide of similar-looking, new wavish album releases, The Romantics seemed to be commercial long shot by any standard. Still, the album's lead track, "When I Look In Your Eyes," is a real charmer, the kind of heart-melting power-pop aphrodisiac that could grab the interest of any little girlie. With jangly guitars, nifty vocal harmonies and a steady, manic-though-danceable drumbeat, it was a wise choice to kick off the band's introductory album. The Romantics quickly slip into "Tell It To Carrie," an understated gem of '60s-styled garage-pop with a wonderful guitar line – part Dick Dale, part Duane Eddy – following that potent one-two punch with the aforementioned "First In Line."

Of course, the song that everybody wants to know about, the one that saved the album (and the band) from also-ran status is the ubiquitous "What I Like About You." After better than two decades as a TV commercial and classic rock track, the song has taken on an entirely different meaning than what the band probably intended originally, and given their well-publicized management problems, I'm not sure that they even made bank on it. Nevertheless, it's an enduring slice of guitar-driven melodic pop, with more hooks than a fishing tournament. A recognizable riff and some handclaps set the stage for a just-shy-of-three-minutes Kinks-style rocker that sticks in your ear and burrows straight towards the medulla oblongata. Throw in some blastin' mouth harp work, a sing-along chorus, and more rattlin' six-string work than anybody else was sporting back in '79 and you have an enduring classic o' the rock variety.

But there's plenty more where that came from on The Romantics. The Detroit foursome pays homage to the master with a brilliant cover of the Kinks "She's Got Everything;" although delivered sans British cheekiness (and accent), the band makes up for it with a wall-of-sound built upon taut fretwork, rapid-fire drumbeats and swaggering vocals. The thinly-veiled surf sound of "Little White Lies" includes just enough lively pop roots to make the song a real mover, while the sideways guitarwork of "Gimme Me One More Chance" does little to hide the understated rocker's anarchist tendencies; the blast of guitar at roughly the two-minute mark is enough to jolt any listener out of their complacency. The result was a solid album that has grown in esteem through the years.

A few months later, in early-1980, the band released its sophomore effort, National Breakout. The album largely eschewed the guitar-drenched, power-pop dynamics of the band's debut, throwing disparate musical elements into the mix and falling prey to a sort of generic '80s rock blasé. From the opening chords of the dubious "Tomboy," the changes are apparent…the instrumental soundtrack is sparse, filled with raw vocals and a big beat rather than the omnipresent guitars of the debut. When the song's lone guitar lead pokes its head up above the mix, it’s a bit of a relief. Throughout the album, there's no doubt that the drums are larger and the vocals less warm than previous.

Still, some of National Breakout stands up to the band's debut. "New Cover Story" is the sort of jangling, bittersweet romantic outline that the band was made for, with a slight return to the harmonies of the debut and some fine guitar work. The title cut is a raucous carbon copy of the band's original sound, with a bonfire beat and chanting six-strings, while the nostalgic cover "Friday At The Hideout" offers up tribal rhythms and pure shambolic garage rock vibe. Revived from the band's first 45 for this album, the Bo Diddley backbeat and Chicago mouth harp of "I Can't Tell You Anything" is good-to-great, with minimal instrumentation and blustery vocals.

Whether the band was trying too hard, had too little time to come up with new material, or just overshot the mark in their attempt at total chart domination, National Breakout is a 50%-50% proposition at best, an entertaining enough album, but the palest of ales when compared to the extra stout taste of the Romantics' finely-brewed debut. Of course, American Beat has removed all of the guesswork, doubt and frustration by slapping both of these albums together on a single disc, thus pacifying the band's many existing fans and providing a way for nascent power-pop junkies to get the cheap thrills they crave. Since both of these titles have been tragically out-of-print for over a decade, kudus for their overdue revival. Buy this new two-fer for The Romantics and get the good songs from National Breakout as a bonus.

Of course, we aren't spoiling the end of the story by revealing that the band would follow-up the moribund commercial response received by National Breakout with the universally reviled Strictly Personal in 1981. Fortunes often deign to change quickly in the pop music game, though, and a couple of years later the Romantics hit the lottery with the towering achievement that was In Heat. Yielding a pair of big-time hit singles in "Talking In Your Sleep" and "One In A Million," the success of both songs no doubt fueled by the sexy video of the former and the catchy hooks of the latter. Inexplicably, In Heat also remains out-of-print, so maybe the American Beat folks can get on the job and get it back on the street…. (American Beat Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy The Romantics/National Breakout from Amazon.com)

Flyin' High With Drivin-N-Cryin

2008-03-28T15:45:00.005-04:00

In the wake of the mid-80s explosion of a new Southern rock paradigm spearheaded by R.E.M. and including bands like Jason & the Scorchers, Pylon, Guadalcanal Diary, the B-52s and other diverse tonemasters, the onus was on Drivin-N-Cryin to deliver. Sporting a unique sound, a Georgia zip code, and frontman Kevn [sic] Kinney's literate lyrics, media handicappers considered the band a sure bet to reach the upper regions of the sales charts. Maybe not stratospheric, R.E.M. levels of success, but DNC was certainly expected to hover somewhere above the horizon.

Formed in 1986, Drivin-N-Cryin released its debut album on the popular Atlanta club 688's independent record label. Subsequently signed to Island Records by the label's knowledgeable A&R genius Kim Buie, the band's early discs mixed DNC's rural bluegrass and country leanings with a growing tendency towards unbridled hard rock. Coupled with Kinney's intelligent, folkish lyrics, the band's initial albums stirred up a fair bit of interest on the college radio circuit.

With the fourth Drivin-N-Cryin album, Fly Me Courageous, the band worked in Memphis with producer Geoff Workman. A journeyman producer whose credits included Motley Crue and Queen, Workman had a better idea on how to incorporate the band's hard rock…hell, almost metallic…undercurrents with their signature twang. The result proved to be pure magic, a three-dimensional work that combined all of the various facets of the Drivin-N-Cryin sound. Fly Me Courageous would become the band's most popular, enduring, and critically-acclaimed album.

The engaging "Around The Block Again" kicks off Fly Me Courageous, Kinney's nasally vocals spitting out his poetic lyrics above a pounding soundtrack. A recurring circular riff swims around the vocals as a generally chaotic, cacophonic mix of guitars, bass and drums wreaks havoc in the background. It's a great way to open the album, with a hook big enough to reel in the most reticent listener.

The album only gets better from there. "Chain Reaction" boasts of a funky Southern rhythm and metallic guitars, with a little timely cowbell thrown in for the stray BOC fan looking for cheap thrills. Kinney goes all Rufus Thomas on us at the end, struttin' around with a soulful swagger as the song flames out. The title track is monster, featuring a BIG beat, bigger riffs, and dark, brooding vocals. It became the band's first mainstream rock hit, moving up to #19 on the charts. Live, this sucker KILLED, and I should know 'cause I witnessed it with me own little eyes and ears!

Fly Me Courageous would spawn two additional songs that would hit the rock charts – "Build A Fire" (#15), which was built on a chooglin' riff, a staggered infectious beat and Kinney's best hard rock vox; and "The Innocent" (#31), a more understated affair that offered some delicious acoustic guitar, some scalpel-sharp electric guitar, and lots of everything else. Personally, I always thought that the label missed the boat by not releasing "Let's Go Dancing" as a single. The song's heavy acoustic strumming, and Kinney's urgent vocals and oblique lyrics, are paired with a perfectly delightful pop-folk sensibility that would have worked the body hard on college radio in the early-90s. "Let's Go Dancing" would always stop a crowd in their tracks, scoring a TKO whenever DNC played it live.

The remainder of Fly Me Courageous pursued a similar yin/yang course, cleverly combining introspective folkish moments like the bittersweet, semi-psychedelic "For You" with the country-flavored hard rock of "Together." The album-closing "Rush Hour" verges the edge of becoming a thrash-metal tune, Kinney's 100mph vocal turn supported by lightning-quick six-string shredding and thunderous drumbeats.

A large part of the album's moderate commercial success can be credited to the touring done by the band in support of Fly Me Courageous. Almost all of the album's songs lent themselves to the live environment, and that is where the band truly excelled, anyway. It was hard not to like these songs when watching them performed live. DNC didn't have the charm of their friends in R.E.M., but you could depend on them cranking it out night after night on stage, whether in front of two people (like they did one night in Nashville) or a couple thousand.

Kevn Kinney was an unlikely rock & roll frontman, a sort of hulking fanboy (much like yours truly) who started out as a zine publisher and music critic. An erudite lyricist with Dylanesque tendencies, Kinney's vocals were technically unspectacular but strangely likeable. Guitarist Buren Fowler, formerly R.E.M.'s roadie, added a crucial dimension to the band's sound, while bassist Tim Nielsen and drummer Jeff Sullivan were a solid rhythm section, providing a lot more subtlety to the DNC sound that it initially appears.

Although subsequent Drivin-N-Cryin albums had their moments, and would spawn minor college radio hits, only 1995's underrated Wrapped In Sky would come close to achieving the near-perfect alignment of the forces that would make Fly Me Courageous the classic of left-field Southern rock that it has become considered. It says something that, better than 20 years down the road, Kinney, Nielsen and Sullivan still comprise the core of the band, and that Drivin-N-Cryin continues to perform like it's 1989.

Kinney is quoted saying about starting Drivin-N-Cryin, "I wanted it to be a psychedelic garage band bordering on English blues. I wanted us to sound like a mix tape you might make, with Nick Lowe, Hank Williams, Ted Nugent – all these weird guys, like college radio used to be." With Fly Me Courageous, DNC hit the mark with ease…. (American Beat Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Fly Me Courageous from Amazon.com)

Nick Lowe Is The Jesus Of Cool!

2008-03-24T17:18:00.004-04:00

Nick Lowe has been making great music for so long that we often take him for granted. Over a career that has spanned nearly forty years, Lowe has released around a dozen albums of consistently entertaining and adventurous songs that venture into sounds of pop, rock, country, and all things in between.

As member of early-70s pub-rock pioneers Brinsley Schwarz, Nick Lowe earned a reputation as a snappy songwriter with a skill for turning a phrase. The band’s roots-rock sound never caught on far beyond the streets of London and Camden Town, however, and Brinsley Schwarz broke up in 1975 after recording five now highly-collectible albums. The independent spirit of Brinsley Schwarz, combined with the band's part in convincing British pubs to feature live music, paved the way for the back-to-the-basics movement of punk rock and helped spawn the legendary class of '77 that included the Damned, the Clash and the Sex Pistols.

Lowe had a direct hand in shaping both punk and new wave, working for Stiff Records as a producer on important and influential records from talents like Graham Parker, Wreckless Eric, Elvis Costello, the Pretenders and the Damned. During this post-Brinsley period, Lowe also toured the U.S. as part of Dave Edmunds' band, opening for Bad Company. Lowe released an initial single – "So It Goes" – on Stiff in 1976, and would subsequently launch his solo career in earnest in 1978 with the release of Jesus of Cool, a whip-smart collection of pop-rock gems that welded contagious melodies with Lowe’s often-demented lyrical tales.

Because the album’s original British title was considered too “edgy” and controversial for the United States, Lowe’s debut album was released stateside under the wonderfully descriptive title Pure Pop For Now People with different sequencing and songs. Under either title, the album won no little amount of critical acclaim. Although it has sadly been out-of-print for better than a decade, this situation has recently been remedied by Yep Roc Records. The label has reissued Jesus of Cool in a 30th anniversary edition with its original schizo cover art and track sequencing, with a wealth of bonus material and a swanky package that includes a nifty annotated booklet with liner notes and lots of photos. The entire package folds out into a cool stained-glass cross-type thingie in keeping with the whole "Nick Lowe is the Jesus of Cool" theme.

What has made Jesus of Cool a cult favorite for three decades, though, is the undeniably entertaining music contained within. Lowe's talents aren't contained by any single pigeonhole, and musically the songs here run the gamut from the hard-edged martial minimalism of the anti-industry "Music For Money" and the twisted '50s-styled rock ballad "Little Hitler" to the whimsical casual vandalism of "I Love The Sound Of Breaking Glass."

The swaggering "Shake And Pop" features a Jerry Lee-styled piano-bashing as its musical signature, while the song's lyrical doppelganger, "They Called It Rock," is an equally breathless exploration of the rock & roll lifestyle, supported this time around by a rollicking rhythm and stabs of Duane Eddy-styled guitarwork. "So It Goes" is a popish new wave roller with an infectious chorus and a bit of vocal gymnastics by the good Mr. Lowe.

The finely-crafted power-pop construction and lighthearted vocals of "Marie Provost" barely cover the dark humor of the song's sordid subject matter. "Nutted By Reality" offers up a funky bass groove and lively rhythm before dropping into an unlikely bit of McCartneyesque pop surrealism. A live version of "Heart Of The City" is a driven slab o' rootsy rock with squirrely guitar, rapidfire vocals, and a perfect bash-and-crash drumbeat.

There are a number of gems thrown in amidst the ten bonus tracks afforded this deluxe edition of Jesus of Cool. The uber-groovy instrumental "Shake That Rat" is a Dick Dale inspired walk on the beach while "I Love My Label" is a delightfully tongue-in-cheek observation of recording industry expectations. The Phil Spectorish "Halfway To Paradise" is an understated, '60s-style flight-of-fancy with delicious harmonies and lofty instrumentation. The fan-tastic "Rollers Show" is a fab slice of teen-beat adoration for the Bay City Rollers, delivered with a Britpop beat and a heart of gold. An original take on the classic "Cruel To Be Kind" is faster-but-slighter than that found on Labour Of Lust, but no less fetching with its beautiful pop sheen.

Beneath all of the bluster and genius, however, Jesus of Cool is a wonderfully concise collection of songs that evince as much anger and vitriol as anything recorded by new wave's "angry young men" like Graham Parker and Elvis Costello. Unlike either of those talented artists, however, Lowe – a veteran tunesmith with better than a decade of performing and recording beneath his belt – learned how to mask his venom with a spoonful of sugar. The result is a timeless classic of true rock & roll music – intelligent, witty, clever, angry and, most of all…cool! (Yep Roc)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Jesus Of Cool from Amazon.com)

Ringo's Stroll Down Memory Lane...

2008-02-28T17:26:00.004-05:00

Ringo Starr's music is oddly comfortable – like a chewed-up old pair of slippers or a ragged favorite jacket. As the odd man out in the Beatles, Starr's charisma and talent was too often overshadowed by the genius of John Lennon, the pop mastery of Paul McCartney, or the instrumental skills of George Harrison, never really given a proper showcase to shine. After the band's break-up, Starr joined his fellow Beatles in launching a solo career. Although he was, once again, usually upstaged by his more commercially-successful or more notorious former mates, Starr has nevertheless enjoyed a lengthy and productive career with his own music that has spanned four decades.

For about five years, beginning with Starr's second solo album in 1970, the former Beatles drummer enjoyed a string of Top Ten hit singles and critically-acclaimed albums. It all began with Beaucoups Of Blues. Released in 1970, this was Ringo's "country" album. Recorded in Nashville, the album showcased the best studio talent that the city had to offer, including a pre-Southern Rock godfather Charlie Daniels, extraordinary guitarist Jerry Reed, pedal-steel maestro Pete Drake, and the undisputed king of harmonica, Charlie McCoy. For many listeners, Beaucoups Of Blues played better as a straight country album than as a pop-rock collection, Starr taking it as high as #35 on the country charts, but only to #65 on the pop albums chart.

Not so with Starr's follow-up, 1973's Ringo. After a pair of obvious genre recordings (Starr's solo debut, Sentimental Journey, was a collection of standards from the '30s and '40s), Ringo went straight for the commercial jugular with the decidedly pop-rock-oriented Ringo. Calling for a little help from his friends, the album featured guests like all three of Starr's former Beatles bandmates, as well as glam-rock superstar Marc Bolan, Memphis soul guitarist Steve Cropper, singer Harry Nilsson, "fifth Beatle" Billy Preston, and almost the entire band the Band. The strategy worked well, pushing Ringo to number two on the pop charts and yielding four Top Ten singles. With the following year's Goodnight Vienna, Starr pursued a similar Beatlesque pop vein, working with most of the same folk, including the rest of the Fab Four, Sir Elton John, Dr. John, and guitarist Dennis Coffey. The album rose to number eight on the charts and cranked out three Top Ten hit singles.

From this point, however, Starr's commercial fortunes waned considerably, as each subsequent album suffered from dwindling levels of success. When the musician's early-80s albums stiffed horribly, he retreated from making records for a decade, returning with the imaginative Time Takes Time in 1992. Recording with younger musicians, members of the Posies and Jellyfish, both bands featuring sounds heavily influenced by the Beatles, the album sounded fresher and more immediate than anything that Starr had recorded in 15 years. Several live albums were subsequently released throughout the '90s, recorded with whatever All-Starr pick-up band that Ringo had recruited for that summer's sold-out tour.

When he followed Time Takes Time a few years later with the entertaining Vertical Man in 1998, it seemed that Starr had entered a new phase in his career which, in a manner of speaking, he did. Hooking up with musician/producer Mark Hudson of '70s pop band the Hudson Brothers, the synergy shared by the two seemed to produce magic in the studio. In retrospect, however, aside from Vertical Man, the studio albums produced by the pair were relatively lackluster collections of Beatlesque pop, largely devoid of ambition and appealing largely to the faithful.

When Starr and Hudson began work on what would become Liverpool 8, the two had some sort of falling out after spending most of a decade working with each other. Enter Dave Stewart, one half of the underrated Eurythmics, an incredible musician and songwriter in his own right. Taking over the production of Liverpool 8, Stewart brought fresh ideas to Starr's work without overwhelming the artist's typically even-keeled sound with his own strong pop personality. To Stewart's credit, he didn't issue a Soviet-styled disappearing of Hudson's contributions to the album…his instrumentation and co-writing fingerprints are all over the place. Instead, Stewart built upon what his predecessor left behind, seemingly adding where necessary, shaping the sound where it needed it.

The result is, perhaps, the most self-assured and open of Starr's recordings since the '70s, a solid if unspectacular collection of songs that serves the artist's legacy well. In other words, there's nothing here on Liverpool 8 that is going to challenge contemporary pop orthodoxy, tho' many of the young bands currently attempting to pull a gold nugget out of the mine shaft originally dug out 44 years ago by Starr and friends would do well to give these songs a spin and see how it's done by a couple of old pros like Starr and Stewart.

Liverpool 8 finds Starr living comfortably in the past. It's a fault, perhaps, that intensifies as one gets older…try telling a twenty-something person anything about middle age and they'll dismiss you as an old fart. It's true, however, that as each year falls off the calendar, one naturally begins to consider what has fallen behind, not what little is yet to come. The album-opening title cut is a nifty little slice o' whimsy, an autobiographical stroll down memory lane for Starr that succeeds because of the song's lush instrumentation and a strong reading of the lyrics (with obvious love and fondness) by Starr.

Liverpool 8 has some other real keepers tucked away in the grooves, songs that evince a timeless sound devoid of the trend mongering older artists often times attempt. Starr knows his limitations and manages to rise above them more often than not. "Think About You" is part jubilant pop, part funky shuffling blues that hits a nice gallop. "Now That She's Gone Away" boasts of a swamp-bred, Creedence-styled rhythmic beat behind a hooky pop chorus. "Gone Are The Days" is another backwards glance, kicking off with uber-cool swirling guitars and Starr's ethereal voice floating around the mix. A heavy keyboard riff enters the fray, leading into a more conventional pop-rock construct that name checks a former Starr hit ("It Don't Come Easy") and features some downright nasty six-string work courtesy of Jesse Davey.

Obviously written for late singer Harry Nilsson, "Harry's Song" is a remarkably spot-on recreation of Nilsson's eccentric and unique style of pop, down to Starr's impressive vocal gymnastics and the song's odd, syncopated, multi-stylistic instrumentation. It's a fun song, and a fitting tribute to an old friend. "R U Ready" is a sort of country-Gospel look at the great beyond, an odd song with echoed vocals that sound like Starr is singing out of an old radio speaker. It's done tongue-in-cheek, but considering Starr's age and the fact that two of his former mates have already "crossed over," one has to wonder about the thoughts behind the song. It's an interesting piece, a modern interpretation of an old-timey sound.

Starr's vocals are what they are – limited, albeit friendly and easily recognizable – but one of the artist's strengths is that he has usually been able to infuse his songs with a small bit of his larger-than-life personality. As usual, Starr has recruited a top notch sessions band to record with and, indeed, at this point in his career, he usually has no problem calling on the services of just about any musician he wants to use.

Taken altogether, Liverpool 8 is a pleasant diversion, a throwback to a kinder, gentler era perhaps, evoking memories of Starr's early-70s work. More than that, it's the kind of innocent, playful, well-built pop-rock album that too few artists take the time to create these days. Although the songs here are mostly group collaborations, there is no doubt that Starr is in the lead, and he learned his songwriting craft from three of the best in the biz.

So, what's the skinny on Liverpool 8? If you've remained one of Ringo Starr's loyal fans through the years, then you already have a copy of Liverpool 8 in your possession. If you consider yourself a true believer in the Fab Four, you may have picked up a copy of the CD on a whim, or maybe you plan to. For everybody else, if you want to hear what true pop-rock craftsmanship sounds like, music unencumbered by label focus groups or unfair commercial expectations, then Liverpool 8 may be what you've been craving all this time. Like that stained T-shirt, your natty old sweater, or those ragged slippers, Starr's music is a comfortable fit. (Capitol Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Liverpool 8 from Amazon.com)

Run Over by the Waco Express!

2008-02-04T18:23:00.001-05:00

What began essentially as a flight of fancy back in 1995 – “when it started, the whole purpose of this band was to get beer and money,” Waco Brothers frontman Jon Langford told No Depression magazine in 1997 – has, better than a decade down the road, become an influential forebear to the entire alternative country scene.

In reality, the Waco Brothers were a literal covers band, formed as an outlet for Langford’s love of country and roots-rock music. Better known…originally…as the voice of British punk legends the Mekons, Langford found himself in Chicago with fellow British musicians Alan Doughty and Steve Goulding, alumni of the bands Jesus Jones and Gang Of Four, respectively.

The Waco’s raucous live shows in Chicago-area clubs found fans in Nan Miller, Eric Babcock and Rob Miller, the three music lovers behind the city’s Bloodshot Records, who convinced Langford that the Waco Brothers should record an album for the fledgling “insurgent country” label. "It was not until Nan said, 'Make an album,' which we thought was such a ridiculous prospect to just do a lot of really horrible cover versions, that we thought we'd better try and write some songs," Langford told No Depression.

The resulting effort was the critically-acclaimed To The Last Dead Cowboy, a ground-breaking collection of poop-punting roots-rock that featured a number of Langford’s left-leaning, blue-collar songs and an overall rockin’ hellbilly soundtrack that was a Nashville Music Row exec’s worst nightmare. The 1995 album helped launch a full-fledged alt-country movement that had been bubbling under for a number of years, and the Waco Brothers became unintentional flagbearers of a sound that was based in traditional country aesthetics but was starkly different from the pap being pushed by Nashville over the previous decade.

With seven studio albums under its belt, the Waco Brothers have grown much larger than just a mere Langford musical side-project and now challenges the Mekons as the vehicle of Langford’s legacy. The major complaint of Waco Brothers fans, through the years, has been that the band’s studio recordings, regardless of their uniformly rocking high-quality, still fall short of the Waco’s free-for-all live shows. With the release of Waco Express - Live & Kickin’ At Schuba’s Tavern, fans that have never had a chance to witness the band in its natural habitat – the stage – can now enjoy a liver-quivering live Waco Brothers performance in the comfort of their own homes. So grab yourself a six-pack (or two) of your favorite libation, and maybe a bag o’ chips, and prepare to get knocked down and run over by the “Waco Express.”

Waco Express - Live & Kickin’ At Schuba’s Tavern kicks off with the manic honky-tonk rave-up “Waco Express,” a blistering twangfest with roaring guitars, tinkling piano and punctures of delicious pedal steel. The tune sets the bar high for the night’s entertainment, but the rest of the disc keeps the energy level dangerously high. “Blink Of An Eye” is, perhaps, one of the more British-sounding songs in the Waco milieu, with Stiff Little Fingers-styled martial rhythms – you almost expect the audience to begin shouting “oi oi oi!” except for the weepy steel guitar that underlines Langford’s vocals. “Too Sweet To Die” is a drunken barroom ballad while the Waco classic “Cowboy In Flames” is a rollicking, unrelenting spanker that wouldn’t sound out-of-place wafting out of the front door of any dive bar still left standing on Nashville’s Lower Broadway.

Drawing on a miles-wide and river-deep catalog of songs, Waco Express features material from across the Waco Brothers’ entire, impressive album catalog. Any Waco Brothers fan has their favorite songs, but for this humble scribe, it’s all good, and each performance here is fuel-injected, 100% guaranteed country-rock chaos. “Do What I Say” is a loutish sing-a-long that sounds even better after a beer or two, while “Harm’s Way” offers up slick Link Wray-styled riffing, explosive drumbeats and a chorus nicked from the Rolling Stones’ distant past. Langford’s “Plenty Tuff Union Made” draws a line between the British working class and blue-collar Americans, the two connected with a steamy backbeat and a catchy chorus, underlined by some squealing fretwork and an overall anarchistic spirit.

“This song is about the death of country music,” says Langford, introducing “Death Of Country Music,” adding, “it’s something that we’ve been working towards over the years. I think with this album we will finally achieve it.” The song’s discordant instrumentation and fierce lyrics are about looking towards the past in order to build something new on the bones of the status quo, and it speaks more towards those who keep the flame of country tradition alive than those who have demeaned and denigrated the music for the sake of filthy lucre.

With Waco Express – Live & Kickin’ At Schuba’s Tavern, the Waco Brothers have delivered a live album that the band’s growing legion of fans can be proud of…loud and proud, raucous and boozy, the band unyielding in its search of high-octane performance pyrotechnics. It’s a wonderful showcase for the Waco Brothers’ original roots-rock sound, and a welcome reminder that Tim McGraw and Faith Hill aren’t the alpha and omega of country music. (Bloodshot Records)

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