Swamp Dogg “Total Destruction To Your Mind”

Pop,Psych,RnB,Soul

Total Destruction to your Mind

One of the best underground/unsung soul albums I know of.  Prior to Total Destruction To Your Mind, Swamp Dogg had been recording music and releasing 45s since the 50s, under the name Jerry Williams (or Little Jerry Williams).  Frustrated by the lack of commercial success, Williams changed his name and persona and in 1970, unleashed Total Destruction To Your Mind on an unsuspecting world.  While those early Calico 45s are a fine musical legacy, the above album saw Swamp Dogg hit on something totally new: a very original brew of R&B, funk and rock n roll that still sounds fresh today. Without doubt he delivered a true soul classic.

Total Destruction To Your Mind was originally released by Canyon.  Swamp Dogg’s eccentric nature, blunt lyrics, and gruff vocals make it stand out from the commercial soul of the day.  His style is really individual and authentic, which makes drawing comparisons so difficult.  Think of a more eccentric Curtis Mayfield or a less lysergic Sly Stone with the occasional Stax horn arrangement – but even this description does the man no favors.  The title cut is a classic, probably one of Dogg’s best known numbers.  This track opens the LP and is best described as psychedelic soul rock, featuring wah wah, loud horns, funky guitar riffs, piano, and cryptic lyrics.  Also of note are the fine contributions from guitarist Jesse Carr and drummer Johnny Sandlin; they provide structure and sanity on this great chuggin’ funk rock gem. “Redneck” (written by Joe South) and the excellent “Sal-A-Faster” are similar funk numbers that feature great beats, classic horn arrangements, and controversial lyrics.  Other goodies are the Bob Dylan influenced “Synthetic World,” notable for its cerebral organ and the soulful, psychedelic worldplay of “Dust Your Head Color Red.”  The album closes most unusually with “Mama’s Baby, Daddy’s Maybe,” a great blues number that took me by surprise.  Swamp Dogg wrote 9 of the 12 songs featured on this LP.  Regarding the 3 covers; there are two great Joe South numbers which Swamp Dogg interprets brilliantly and then there’s “The World Beyond,” a killer soul ballad with nostalgic lyrics (written by Bobby Goldsboro).

Again, Total Destruction to Your Mind never gained any commmercial notoriety or widespread acceptance but this should in no way discourage you from buying the 1996 cd reissue (which also adds the excellent Rat On LP from 1971) by Swamp Dogg’s very own S.D.E.G. Records.  Swamp Dogg always did things his own way and thats what makes Total Destruction to Your Mind such a special release.

“Sal-A-Faster”

:D CD Reissue | 2fer | 1996 | SDEG | amazon ]
;) MP3 Album | 2fer | download ]
:) Original Vinyl |  1970 | Canyon | ebay ]

uReview: Captain Beefheart “Trout Mask Replica”

Art,Psych,RnB

Trout Mask Replica

[ratings]

“Veteran’s Day Poppy”

:D CD Reissue | 1990 | Reprise | at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Straight | at ebay ]
:) Vinyl Reissue | 2009 | Warner | at ebay ]

Pink Floyd “Soundtrack from the film More”

Psych

More

Pink Floyd’s milestone albums are today so embedded in the public consciousness that it’s become more necessary than ever to explore their lesser-known offerings. This can often lead to discovering some unexpected treats. Their soundtrack to the otherwise forgettable 1969 French film More is one such work. Perhaps Floyd’s last album to be imbued with the spirit of Syd Barrett, it comprises a collection of short songs and instrumental pieces, the acid-pop overtones, gentle chillout textures and generally taut construction of which offer a considerable contrast to the lengthy, plodding, half-improvised instrumentals which had become their standard fare, following the loss of Barrett’s lysergically-fuelled, wonderfully erratic songwriting. Roger Waters is the main composer and lyricist here, thankfully before his gloomy, introspective leanings really took over.

Although the album was commissioned as a film soundtrack and the pieces were written to order to fit scenes in the movie, the whole work can be enjoyed as an album of music with no reference at all to its raison d’être (I’ve never seen the film, and frankly have no wish to, given the nature of its plot). Six of the thirteen tracks are proper, complete songs rather than just instrumentals. The range of musical styles is truly eclectic, and no track ever outstays its welcome. Spacey reverbed Farfisa licks, folksy acoustic guitars, found sounds, latin percussion, musique concrête, piano jazz, flamenco, proto-heavy metal and even a touch of uncharacteristic country-pop make successive appearances. Quicksilver, the only lengthy track at just over seven minutes, shows the influence of Georgy Ligeti’s atonal orchestrations as used in 2001: A Space Odyssey. The jazzy, freeform piano-and-percussion Up The Khyber loops wildly around the stereo plane. The Nile Song is grunge twenty years before Nirvana and Mudhoney, though its bewildering series of key changes would certainly bemuse such later acts. Cirrus Minor is delightful space-rock with an incongruous accompaniment of birdsong. The gentle Crying Song features vibes and a gorgeous, nagging bass riff hook.

Perhaps the most surprising thing about More is that it was completely written and recorded in just two weeks: a contrast to the increasingly lengthy compositional and recording periods that Floyd were employing for their mainstream albums. Truly, sometimes less can be More.

“The Nile Song”

:D CD Reissue | 2004 | EMI | at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Harvest | at ebay ]

PODCAST 15 Coal tattoo

Podcast

THE RISING STORM!!

Running Time: 44:51 | File Size 61.6 MB
Download: .mp3
To subscribe to this podcast: https://therisingstorm.net/podcast.xml [?]

PLAYLIST

1. You’d Better Think Twice by Poco – Deliverin’ (1971)

2. Cat Man by Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps – S/T (1957)

3. Coal Tattoo by Billy Edd Wheeler – Love (1971)

4. They Can’t Hurt Me by The Lyrics – Back From The Grave Vol. 1 (1965)

5. Goodbye To Mary Jane by Mike and the Ravens – Nevermore (1963)

6. The Stones I Throw by Levon & the Hawks – A Musical History/Box Set (45 from 1965)

7. Be A Friend by The Morning Dew – No More 1966-1969 (45 from 1967)

8. Waiting For Something by The Tokens – Intercourse (1968-)

9. Hey Porter by Johnny Cash – With His Hot and Blue Guitar (bonus track of 1955 45)

10. Be My Girl by The Rationals – Think Rational/Fan Club LP (1966)

11. Seasons Change by Jerry Jeff Walker – Five Years Gone (1969)

12. Come Tomorrow – Kenny and the Kasuals – Things Gettin’ Better/Nothing Better To Do (1966)

13. Sunny Day Blue by Fargo – Fading Yellow 6/Fargo lp (1968-)

14. Get Your Rocks Off by Bob Dylan and the Band – The Genuine Basement Tapes Vol. 2 (1967)

15. Jailhouse Rock by Dean Carter – Call of the Wild (from 1967 45)

16. Train Song by the Flying Burrito Brothers – Hot Burritos Anthology (45 from 1969)

Taj Mahal “Giant Step/De Ole Folks At Home”

Americana,Pop,RnB
First I must admit, I have never been a big fan of the blues. I love good songwriting, interesting chord progressions, and sparingly used solos – all things the blues mostly avoids. It’s this deficiency of mine that’s unjustly prevented me from discovering artists who successfully managed to fuse pop, rock, country, and soul with the blues and deliver music that could poke anybody’s sweet spot. Luckily, I’m currently loving this little gem from the incomparable Taj Mahal.\
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It’s the title track’s delicate, sparse mood I can’t hear enough. Taj transforms the Monkees hit composed by Carole King and Gerry Goffin into a relaxed and gorgeous rural roamer – his soulful vox moving all over the miles-beyond-blues chord changes. And though Giant Step isn’t completely free from the old I-IV-V, just let the feedback harmonica moan from Give Your Woman What She Wants hook in you in, the toe-tapping Cajun feel to Need Somebody On Your Bond ride you home, and overpowered blast of Six Days On The Road stamp it down, then see who cares about changes anymore. Inventive production touches abound: the childlike piano tittering on Good Morning Little School Girl, metronomic banjo strumming on Farther on Down the Road (the only original song on the record and an instant classic at that). The final track, Bacon Fat, is a standard blues originally penned by The Band, and here a slow jam for everybody’s last licks.\
\
downhome grooves, a soothing mood, and plain fun record.\
Jesse Ed Davis on lead guitar\

Giant Step

I ‘ve never been a huge blues student. I go for more complicated songwriting, interesting chord progressions, and short, snappy solos – things from which the blues typically stray. Until lately, this deficiency has unjustly prevented me from discovering artists who successfully managed to fuse pop, rock, country, or soul with the blues and deliver music that falls right in the sweet spot. Finally, and thankfully, I’m currently loving this little (giant) gem from the incomparable Taj Mahal.

Along with Ry Cooder, Taj was a founder of the legendary Rising Sons, and went on to release two stripped down delta-blues classics in 1968. Giant Step, released concurrently with a raw collection of solo recordings called De Ole Folks At Home in 1969, would be his third, and personal favorite to many.  It’s the title track’s delicate, sparse mood I can’t stuff in my head enough. Taj transforms the Monkees hit, composed by Carole King and Gerry Goffin, into a relaxed and gorgeous rural roamer – his muddy vox rolls all over the changes, miles beyond blues. And though Giant Step isn’t completely free of the old I-IV-V, just let the feedback harmonica moan from Give Your Woman What She Wants hook you in, the toe-tapping Cajun feel to You’re Gonna Need Somebody On Your Bond take you along, and overpowered drive of Six Days On The Road stamp it down, then see who cares about chord progressions anymore.

The most fun comes from inventive production touches: childish piano tittering on Good Morning Little School Girl, metronomic banjo rapping on Farther On Down The Road (one of two originals on the record and an easy classic), ace country guitar leads all throughout provided by Jesse Ed Davis, here accompanying Taj for the third and final record before embarking on his own solo career (releasing three solid records and sessioning with plenty of the greats). The final track, Bacon Fat, is a pretty standard blues originally penned by The Band, and here mostly a drawn out jam affording everbody last licks.

The album is actually 2 in 1, accompanied with De Ole Folks At Home, an acoustic solo set with Taj providing old-time steel-body slide picking, clawhammer banjo, harp, and hambone on traditional and classic numbers like Cluck Old Hen and Fishing Blues, as well as several originals. It’s like pulling up a hot seat on Taj’s front porch, who would pass? An excellent pairing, this record is essential on its own and along with Giant Step you can’t refuse. Downhome grooves, raw authentic performances, a plain fun record that got me rethinking the blues. “Take a giant step outside your mind.”

“Take A Giant Step”

:D CD Reissue | 2003 | MSI | 2fer | buy at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl |  1969 | Columbia | search ebay ]
Spotify link | listen ]

The Flying Burrito Brothers “Burrito Deluxe”

Americana,Country Rock

Burrito Deluxe

Taken as a whole, The Flying Burrito Brothers second album, Burrito Deluxe, is a mild disappointment when measured up against their legendary debut LP, The Gilded Palace of Sin. That record defined the country-rock genre and is still the yardstick by which all alternative country records are measured.

Burrito Deluxe was oringally released by A&M records in 1969.  There are some good songs onboard, most notably mellow country-rockers “Cody, Cody” and “God’s Own Singer.”  These are clearly the LP’s best numbers.  Parsons and company even cover “Wild Horses” a few years before the Rolling Stones included it on their Sticky Fingers LP.  On the surface Burrito Deluxe seems like a good enough follow-up to The Gilded Palace of Sin but further listening reveals some major flaws.  For one, the songwriting is inconsistent: Burrito Deluxe yields no true classics on par with “Christine’s Tune,”  “Hot Burrito #1,” or “Hot Burrito #2.”  Parsons at this point was losing interest in the band he and Chris Hillman co-founded.  Was Parsons spending too much time with Keith Richards or perhaps writing songs and preparing for his brief solo career?  Aspects that made the Burrito’s debut so great, the fuzz guitars, those strong soul and country influences (what Parsons referred to as Cosmic American Music) and the unity in performance are missing.  Instead the Burritos go for a harder rocking bar band sound as heard on tracks like Bob Dylan’s “If You Gotta Go” and the Sweetheart era outtake “Lazy Days.”  “Lazy Days” is professional songcraft, a decent enough number but the Dylan cover along with “Man In The Fog” is rather sloppy – this is not the Flying Burrito Brothers I know.  Other tracks like “Image of Me”, “Farther Along” and “Older Guys” are respectable, gutsy country-rock efforts but again, nothing groundbreaking or classic.

So on a whole, this is a solid album for the country-rock genre, definitely better than what the average band was releasing back in the late 60s/early 70s.  I’d go out on a limb and say that the Burrito’s self titled 3rd album and Last of the Red Hot Burritos (live) may be more consistent records – these records are without Gram Parsons too!  Listening to Burrito Deluxe reminds us that Parsons’ head was elsewhere at the time.  It feels as though the band is rushing through each number without any heart or true committment and because of this, Burrito Deluxe suffers from an unfocused sound.  All complaints aside, Burrito Deluxe is still well worth a spin and an essential albeit baffling country-rock/Americana LP.

“Cody, Cody”

:D 2CD Flying Burrito Anthology | 2000 | Interscope | get at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1970 | A&M | search ebay ]

King Crimson “In The Court Of The Crimson King”

Prog,Psych
I bought In The Court Of The Crimson King straight after seeing Crimson support the Rolling Stones at the Hyde Park free concert in 1969. The then almost unknown Crimson delivered by far the strongest set of the day. I’ve listened to it periodically over the ensuing forty years, first on vinyl and latterly remixed on CD, and it still impresses me.
There are some fine musicians here. Bandleader and composer Robert Fripp can rock out on guitar with the best of the rest, but is happiest on avant-garde improvisations with a cool mellow tone. Drummer Mike Giles has all the jazzy chops. Bassist Greg Lake is also a clear-voiced, expressive singer. Probably the most talented member is Ian McDonald, who covers all keyboards and all wind instruments; a master of the Mellotron, his flute work is also particularly praiseworthy.
The album boasts but five tracks, all of which are basically straightforward songs on simple chord sequences with lyrics, courtesy of lyricist and poet Pete Sinfield, mostly incorporating the usual science-fantasy noodlings of the era, but with each song featuring a contrasting freeform instrumental section. 21st Century Schizoid Man leads off with a nightmarish, distorted vision of a Michael Moorcock world, giving way to a fractured unison passage with impressive ensemble playing from all four musicians. I Talk To The Wind is a mellow, elegiac piece featuring gorgeous muted licks throughout from Fripp. Epitaph, my favourite track, invites comparisons with contemporaneous Moody Blues, being a powerful song drenched in Mellotron strings. Moonchild is another mellow epic with a long coda in which Fripp’s guitar holds an extended freeform conversation with McDonald’s Fender Rhodes, while Giles politely tries to horn in on the discussion. The Court Of The Crimson King, the band’s signature tune, closes proceedings in powerful style, ending with a charming nursery pipe organ recapitulation of the main theme.
There’s a lot of variation in dynamics here; the CD helpfully eliminates the annoyance caused by vinyl surface noise during the quieter passages. If I have any criticisms, they are minor: the use of a similar, slightly plodding 4/4 time signature  throughout, and the long coda of Moonchild perhaps rather outstaying its welcome. However, this remains a classic of early prog, and one arguably not bettered by any later lineup of Crimson. For immediately after the ensuing lengthy US tour, McDonald and Giles both quit, and Lake abandoned ship during the recording of the follow-up In The Wake Of Poseidon, leaving Fripp to build again from scratch. He probably didn’t succeed at this level again till the brilliant Belew/Levin/Bruford guitar-based lineup of the eighties.

In The Court of the Crimson King

I bought In The Court Of The Crimson King straight after seeing Crimson support the Rolling Stones at the Hyde Park free concert in 1969. The then almost unknown Crimson delivered by far the strongest set of the day. I’ve listened to it periodically over the ensuing forty years, first on vinyl and latterly remixed on CD, and it still impresses me.

There are some fine musicians here. Bandleader and composer Robert Fripp can rock out on guitar with the best of the rest, but is happiest on avant-garde improvisations with a cool mellow tone. Drummer Mike Giles has all the jazzy chops. Bassist Greg Lake is also a clear-voiced, expressive singer. Probably the most talented member is Ian McDonald, who covers all keyboards and all wind instruments; a master of the Mellotron, his flute work is also particularly praiseworthy.

The album boasts but five tracks, all of which are basically straightforward songs on simple chord sequences with lyrics, courtesy of lyricist and poet Pete Sinfield, mostly incorporating the usual science-fantasy noodlings of the era, but with each song featuring a contrasting freeform instrumental section. 21st Century Schizoid Man leads off with a nightmarish, distorted vision of a Michael Moorcock world, giving way to a fractured unison passage with impressive ensemble playing from all four musicians. I Talk To The Wind is a mellow, elegiac piece featuring gorgeous muted licks throughout from Fripp. Epitaph, my favourite track, invites comparisons with contemporaneous Moody Blues, being a powerful song drenched in Mellotron strings. Moonchild is another mellow epic with a long coda in which Fripp’s guitar holds an extended freeform conversation with McDonald’s Fender Rhodes, while Giles politely tries to horn in on the discussion. The Court Of The Crimson King, the band’s signature tune, closes proceedings in powerful style, ending with a charming nursery pipe organ recapitulation of the main theme.

There’s a lot of variation in dynamics here; the CD helpfully eliminates the annoyance caused by vinyl surface noise during the quieter passages. If I have any criticisms, they are minor: the use of a similar, slightly plodding 4/4 time signature  throughout, and the long coda of Moonchild perhaps rather outstaying its welcome. However, this remains a classic of early prog, and one arguably not bettered by any later lineup of Crimson. For immediately after the ensuing lengthy US tour, McDonald and Giles both quit, and Lake abandoned ship during the recording of the follow-up In The Wake Of Poseidon, leaving Fripp to build again from scratch. He probably didn’t succeed at this level again till the brilliant Belew/Levin/Bruford guitar-based lineup of the eighties.

:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Atlantic | search ebay ]
:D CD Reissue | 2004 | Discipline | amazon ]

Chicago Transit Authority (self-titled)

Art,Classic Rock,Pop,Prog,Psych,RnB
Opinion on what is surely one of the finest debut albums ever made tends to be somewhat polarised these days. Detractors of what eventually, sadly, unforgivably, metamorphosed into the ultimate slush-rock outfit simply ignore it; admirers of the earlier stuff who nonetheless try to distance themselves from the currently unfashionable genre of jazz-rock describe the band as a mainstream hard-rock quartet accompanied by a more-adventurous-than-average Memphis-style horn trio. In fact Chicago Transit Authority has real jazz in bucketloads, alongside blissed-out rock, blues, funk-soul and some wilful psychedelic oddness, particularly in the lyrics and occasional sound effects. And in this instance the mixture really does work.
The first thing that hits your consciousness is the bullhorn-brash confidence of this nascent outfit. Seven unknown but uncompromising musicians offer as their first recording a double album containing eleven lengthy tracks (and one short prologue). The staple fare is meticulously arranged songs, some of which contain enough modulations and changes of tempo to allow them to qualify as suites. Heaven knows how long they rehearsed to get their sh*t this tight, but they are that good and they know it. What other band had the chutzpah to include on its debut a seven-minute solo guitar piece comprising only electronic feedback, long before Lou Reed or Neil Young did so? No wonder the guitarist can be heard laughing into the amplifier mike half way through the piece. He’s not giving the finger to the record company; he’s saying, this isn’t gratuitous noise, this is our art: make up your own mind whether it’s valid.
All the musicians are excellent, but in particular guitarist Terry Kath can give Hendrix a fright in the sustain/widdling stakes (Poem 58: reportedly, Jimi rated him as a peer) and can perform a continually-inventive twelve-minute strut on the pentatonic comparable to Frank Zappa at his best (Liberation). Yes, the horns can throw in the choreographed stabs, but they show themselves capable of ambitious yet economical improv soloing (Introduction). Together, the septet move beyond finely honed jazzy pieces (Beginnings) through a bludgeoning riff-blues (South California Purples) to a latin-drenched drum solo (the fine cover of Steve Winwood’s I’m A Man), while the lyrics veer from hippy-dippy mysticism (Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?) to abrupt political statement (Prologue, August 29, 1968 / Someday). The latter segues seamlessly and intelligently out of the former, a location recording of a chanting civil rights crowd, to drum the message home.
Chicago’s second release was also a jazzy double album, but the experimental weirdness was gone, leaving only a more sterile virtuosity. After that, it was downhill all the way to If You Leave Me Now. Chicago Transit Authority stands as their finest.

Chicago Transit Authority

Opinion on what is surely one of the finest debut albums ever made tends to be somewhat polarised these days. Detractors of what eventually, sadly, unforgivably, metamorphosed into the ultimate slush-rock outfit simply ignore it; admirers of the earlier stuff who nonetheless try to distance themselves from the currently unfashionable genre of jazz-rock describe the band as a mainstream hard-rock quartet accompanied by a more-adventurous-than-average Memphis-style horn trio. In fact Chicago Transit Authority has real jazz in bucketloads, alongside blissed-out rock, blues, funk-soul and some wilful psychedelic oddness, particularly in the lyrics and occasional sound effects. And in this instance the mixture really does work.

The first thing that hits your consciousness is the bullhorn-brash confidence of this nascent outfit. Seven unknown but uncompromising musicians offer as their first recording a double album containing eleven lengthy tracks (and one short prologue). The staple fare is meticulously arranged songs, some of which contain enough modulations and changes of tempo to allow them to qualify as suites. Heaven knows how long they rehearsed to get their sh*t this tight, but they are that good and they know it. What other band had the chutzpah to include on its debut a seven-minute solo guitar piece comprising only electronic feedback, long before Lou Reed or Neil Young did so? No wonder the guitarist can be heard laughing into the amplifier mic half way through the piece. He’s not giving the finger to the record company; he’s saying, this isn’t gratuitous noise, this is our art: make up your own mind whether it’s valid.

All the musicians are excellent, but in particular guitarist Terry Kath can give Hendrix a fright in the sustain/widdling stakes (Poem 58: reportedly, Jimi rated him as a peer) and can perform a continually-inventive twelve-minute strut on the pentatonic comparable to Frank Zappa at his best (Liberation). Yes, the horns can throw in the choreographed stabs, but they show themselves capable of ambitious yet economical improv soloing (Introduction). Together, the septet move beyond finely honed jazzy pieces (Beginnings) through a bludgeoning riff-blues (South California Purples) to a latin-drenched drum solo (the fine cover of Steve Winwood’s I’m A Man), while the lyrics veer from hippy-dippy mysticism (Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?) to abrupt political statement (Prologue, August 29, 1968 / Someday). The latter segues seamlessly and intelligently out of the former, a location recording of a chanting civil rights crowd, to drum the message home.

Chicago’s second release was also a jazzy double album, but the experimental weirdness was gone, leaving only a more sterile virtuosity. After that, it was downhill all the way to If You Leave Me Now. Chicago Transit Authority stands as their finest.

“Prologue, August 29, 1968”

:D CD Reissue | 2002 | Rhino | amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Columbia | search ebay ]
;) MP3 Album | download ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]

Procol Harum “A Salty Dog”

Art,Classic Rock,Pop,Prog

A Salty Dog

Agruably Procol Harum’s finest hour, A Salty Dog (A&M, 1969) was the last album with keyboard/organ player Matthew Fisher.  Fisher’s keyboards dominate typical Procol Harum numbers like “Pilgrim’s Progress,” “All This and More,” and the excellent progressive rocker “Wreck of the Hesperus.”  These songs (all very good) are what you’d expect to find on a late 60’s Procol Harum record, a slow paced, keyboard driven sound.  It’s the remaining tracks that push the group’s resources to the limit, seeing them branch out into new musical territory that is often exciting and original.

The album opened with the title track, “A Salty Dog.”  One of Procol Harum’s most ambitious statements, this composition features beautiful string arrangements and Gary Brooker’s tremendous vocals (he never sounded better).  Also of note are B.J. Wilson’s powerhouse drum work and the brilliant lyrics of Keith Reid, which accurately describe the paranoia ocean explorers encounter at sea.  For these reasons, the music and lyricism work well together, creating a peculiar sense of impending doom or fear of the unknown.  “A Salty Dog” is still regarded as one of the finest pieces of early progressive rock, and with good reason, it’s a superb song that conjures up eerie feelings – a must own.  Other standouts are the dreamy folk of “Too Much Between Us,”  intelligent roots rock in “The Hand of Human Kindness” and the pre World War II style blues of “Juicy John Pink.”  The latter sounds lo-fi and may be the rawest, most basic track Procol Harum has ever cut; it really is an authentic blues piece too, highlighted by Trower’s fantastic guitar leads and Brooker’s boozy late nite vocals.  “Boredom,” another unique number, is a pretty accoustic campfire jam with distinct Caribbean rhythms.  This is an LP full of variety and style. 

Hard rock enthusiasts may want to pick this up for the great, sludgey rocker titled “The Devil Came From Kansas.”  This one has pounding drums and pile driving guitar riffs, probably their heaviest song – essential music for the classic rock fan.  In fact, all throughout the album Robin Trower’s guitar work is a joy, reaching highs with his own epic composition “Crucifixion Lane” and the cool, stuttering fuzztones heard on aforementioned “The Hand of Human Kindness.”  The band tries all kinds of different experiments out on A Salty Dog, so in a sense it may sound overwhelming at first.  Patience and mutiple listens pay off and reveal A Salty Dog to be one of the best classic rock albums of 1969.

Originals are easy to find in good shape (vinyl).  There have been several good cd reissues by Salvo (2009) and Westside as well.  These reissues feature excellent bonus material and copious liner notes.  By the way, A Salty Dog is slang for an experienced sailor or a libidinous man.  It’s also the name of an acoholic beverage which is made with vodka or gin and grapefruit juice.

“Milk Of Human Kindness”

:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | A&M | search ebay ]
:D CD Reissue | 2009 | Salvo | amazon ]

uReview: Bruce Springsteen “Greetings From Asbury Park”

Americana,Pop,uReview

Asbury Park

[ratings]

So what of THE BOSS? Is this debut his finest moment? Second to its successor? Was the best of Bruce a ways to come? Is it even worth listening to?

“Blinded By The Light”

:) Original Vinyl | 1973 | Columbia | ebay ]
;) MP3 Album | download ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]