[ratings]
“Veteran’s Day Poppy”
CD Reissue | 1990 | Reprise | at amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1969 | Straight | at ebay ]
Vinyl Reissue | 2009 | Warner | at ebay ]
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”
CD Reissue | 2004 | EMI | at amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1969 | Harvest | at ebay ]
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”
CD Reissue | 2003 | MSI | 2fer | buy at amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1969 | Columbia | search ebay ]
Spotify link | listen ]
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 ]
CD Reissue | 2004 | Discipline | amazon ]
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”
CD Reissue | 2002 | Rhino | amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1969 | Columbia | search ebay ]
MP3 Album | download ]
Spotify link | listen ]
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 ]
CD Reissue | 2009 | Salvo | amazon ]
The story of Blind Faith “ was ever such a star-crossed project more appropriately named? “ is so thoroughly documented that there’s no need to elaborate upon it here. (For those around but inexplicably absent from Planet Rock during 1969, and for those then unborn, the excellent booklet in this CD provides a concise and honest history.) Objective examinations of the band’s music, however, are thinner on the ground.
In June 1969, fired by the blaring press announcements of Blind Faith’s formation, I hitch-hiked to London’s Hyde Park to see the free concert that would prove to be their only UK appearance. Far smaller than the hype, of course, the performance drew mixed reviews, but I recall being well enough impressed by the quality songs with Steve Winwood’s solid, soulful fronting on vocal and Fender Rhodes and Eric Clapton’s uncharacteristically diffident but technically faultless guitar playing. On encountering the film of the show on TV almost exactly forty years later, I found no reason to change my mind.
When the LP was announced I was early in the queue. When it proved to be the first album to be released in the UK in stereo only, I had to purchase a stereo-compatible tone arm and cartridge and fit them to my old mono record player simply to accommodate the new purchase. I was impressed with the record then, and remain so today. I’m well aware that this is not a universal view, and will read comments to this post with interest.
Of the original six tracks, Winwood’s Had To Cry Today and Clapton’s Presence Of The Lord are rock music of the highest quality, and feature Steve’s voice and Eric’s guitar at their absolute zenith. A younger Clapton once said that his ambition was to make an audience cry with just one note; the final bend of his solo on Presence damn nearly makes it happen. Can’t Find My Way Home is a charming unplugged ensemble rendition spoilt only by rather obtrusive cymbal splashes from Ginger Baker “ the only blemish on an otherwise excellent Jimmy Miller production – whilst Baker’s own Do What You Like stands comparison with Steely Dan’s Do It Again in its rambling linear structure and funky feel. The weakest offering, Sea Of Joy, is rescued by a superbly melodic violin solo from Rick Grech. The compositional strength of the tracks is undeniable; Had To Cry Today was strong enough to justify covering by Joe Bonamassa as the title track of his album, whilst Faith’s tasteful reinvention of Buddy Holly’s Well All Right was covered almost verbatim by Carlos Santana.
The original 35-minute vinyl album may have represented just about all the quality material Faith had to offer, but there was no filler. By contrast the latest reissue CD, the deluxe 2-CD version, includes as bonus tracks several alternative (and inferior) versions of the original songs, a couple of other songs not deemed (quite rightly) strong enough to release first time round, and a second discful of rehearsal jams of historic interest only. New converts should concentrate on the first six tracks here, and also if possible seek out the DVD of the Hyde Park concert, which is by no means faultless as cinema but is an above-average record of a historic sixties concert.
“Presence of the Lord”
CD Reissue | 2001 | Polydor | amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1969 | Atco | ebay ]
Spotify link | listen ]
Ballad of Easy Rider was one of two great Byrds’ albums to be released after the groups’ acknowledged heyday (Mr. Tambourine Man to Sweetheart of the Rodeo). Released in 1969, before the excellent double set Untitled, Ballad of Easy Rider was a quiet, tranquil record with good songs and fine, professional performances. By this time Clarence White was a full-time member and the group was looking to rebound from their prior release, the uneven Dr. Byrds and Mr. Hyde.
Ballad of Easy Rider kicked off with the title track, two minutes of beautiful countrified folk-rock that was notable for its stately orchestration. This was definitely one of the latter group’s finest performances and legend has it that Dylan wrote half the lyrics down on a napkin (McGuinn naturally finished up the song). Perhaps the album’s most popular track was the gospel influenced “Jesus Is Just Alright,” a fine pop number in it’s own right that reached the lower regions of the charts. There were great covers of “Tulsa Country” (country-rock with excellent guitar work from Clarence White), “There Must Be Someone I Can Turn To” (a classic Gosdin Brothers‘ track), “Jack Tarr The Sailor” (a sea shanty folk-rocker with stinging electric guitar and banjo) and Woody Guthrie’s “Deportee.” The story behind “There Must Be Someone I Can Turn To” is rather interesting. One night Vern Gosdin came home after playing a gig to find his house completely empty. His wife and kids were gone along with the furniture and there was a goodbye note from his wife. With this in mind, Vern sat down and wrote “There Must Be Someone I Can Turn To.” The Byrds decided to include this number into their set because of its meaning and emotional power.
The originals on Ballad of Easy Rider are also impressive. “Fido,” written by John York is a funky number about a stray dog. There’s a brief drum solo and some strong guitar riffs, it’s unlike anything the Byrds would ever record. “Oil In My Lamp” showcases a Clarence White vocal and is an excellent country rocker with a very laid back, rustic feel (with more great guitar riffs). The best of the bunch is “Gunga Din,” a minor Byrds’ classic with Gene Parsons taking lead vocals and really great finger picking via Clarence White. It almost seems as if Roger McGuinn relinquished his leadership role in the Byrds to let Clarence White take the spotlight on Ballad of Easy Rider.
I think it’s wrong to assume the Byrds were dead after Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Many fans suggest this version of the Byrds was less innovative and lacked a strong songwriter. While the Byrds did write fine original material they were also known as great interpreters of folk and country material. I must point out that these latter day Byrds were known to be a great live band (probably the best in the group’s history), featured one of the era’s finest guitarists in Clarence White, and released two classic country-rock records. This is one of them.
“Jack Tarr The Sailor”
CD Reissue | 2008 | Sbme | amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1969 | Columbia | ebay ]
MP3 Album | download ]
These two mostly instrumental albums are the first Frank Zappa solo records. Sans Mothers, Zappa used these forays to assert his interest in serious composition, drawing on influences like Igor Stravinsky, Edgar Varèse, and of course, popular rock and roll music.
Lumpy Gravy (1968-)
Lumpy Gravy is a wildly impressive collection of musical ideas, set in two musical suites. Incorporating surf and pop rhythm sections with musique concrete and absurdist vocal samples (recorded inside a piano with all the keys pressed down, nabbing harmonics from the resonating strings nearby), it does in fact feel like “phase two of We’re Only in It for the Money,” borrowing its wonderful sped-up, tape manipulated feel. The composition is loaded with themes that would be recycled on later releases (“Bwana Dik,” “Oh No,” “King Kong”). Recorded with the Abnuceals Emuukha Electric Symphony and meticulously spliced and diced by FZ, Lumpy Gravy is a monumental achievement – but only a drop in the bucket from one of rock’s most prolific composers.
“Duodenum (Theme From Lumpy Gravy)”
CD Reissue | 1995 | Zappa Records | from amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1968 | Verve | search ebay ]
Hot Rats (1969)
I wouldn’t say this album is notably better than any other FZ record, but it caught on big. Maybe it’s the short, catchy title; may be the toned down weirdness; could be that Zappa just cut all the bullshit and delivered an undeniable slab of rock that the masses could dig and critics would acclaim. Two of these tracks (“Peaches En Regalia” and “Son of Mr. Green Genes”) even made the legendary (albeit illegal) jazz standards tome, The Real Book, proving the album was the equal of contemporary ‘musician’s music.’ While “Peaches,” featuring Shuggie Otis on bass guitar, may have been the zaniest track ever to become a standard (played on baseball stadium organs to this day), the rest of the album eschews condensed complexity in favor of long form jams and sickening guitar work. Captain Beefheart’s vocal performance on the hot-licked “Willie The Pimp” might be one of his defining moments, though certainly not from Capn’s viewpoint – his distaste for FZ’s production prowess begins here. The rest of the album is fully instrumental – groovy, melodic, jazzy, brilliant, essential listening. In case you haven’t heard it by now:
“Peaches En Regalia”
CD Reissue | 1995 | Zappa Records | from amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1969 | Reprise | search ebay ]
In the liner notes to recent cd reissue Sounds of Our Time Nick Lowe describes Jim Ford: “Jim Ford’s reputation was not the best. He told a lot of terrible stories and he used to bend the truth a bit. I think deep down he was no rock star, but he noticed people provided him with money when he pretended to be one. Many people who financed his career probably got disappointed when Ford didn’t care to live up to their expectations. He took a lot of people for a ride….I’d never seen anyone use cocaine before I met Ford. Wherever he went there were also illegal substances around. Ford was unreliable and from time to time he disappeared. We were surprised to find what kind of people he seemed to know in England. One time when he got back he had stayed with the blonde bombshell Diana Dors and her gangster-type husband Alan Lake!”
Nick also added this, “When Jim walked off the plane he wore a big Stetson, rose-tinted shades and jeans with creases and round-toe cowboy boots. I’d never met anyone like him before. Ford was the real thing, he was other-worldly and very charismatic. He turned up with a $3,000 guitar, an astronomical sum for 1970, but it seemed he could barely play it, and yet it was so mean, the way he hit that thing. He was totally unimpressed by us (Brinsley Schwarz), but he was making the best out of a bad job.”
Jim Ford meant a lot of things to a lot of different people. Sly Stone claimed Ford was his best friend, Nick Lowe name checks him as a major inspiration, and British mod band the Koobas recorded an entire album of Harlan County songs (The Koobas even went as far as to change their name to Harlan County). His unique brand of country-rock-soul-funk has proven to be original and very influential.
The Harlan County LP was released by White Whale in 1969 and is evenly divided between covers and Jim Ford originals. Most people single out the title track and “I’m Gonna Make Her Love Me” as highlights, and they are great slices of hard country funk. “Harlan County,” the title track, has a nice horn arrangement, crisp, driving acoustic guitars, female backup vocalists and a great beat – it’s another lost gem. But for me Ford’s fuzz guitar arrangement of “Spoonful” is really stellar and the superb country soul ballads “Changing Colors” and “Love On My Brain” make the album what it is today – a unique record in the country-rock canon. Ford’s main strength was his songwriting ability but he’s also an underrated vocalist with real southern grit and soul. There is nothing like Harlan County, the LP is mandatory listening for fans of 60s American rock n roll and country-rock.
You wanna hear his music? The best reissue to get a hold of is Sounds of Our Time by Bear Family Records (2007). This disc has the Harlan County LP in its entirety, rare pre-lp singles, and excellent outtakes that are in more of a country-rock vein. For an example of this, check out the slow version of “Big Mouth USA” and the title track. Both tracks are outstanding pieces of Americana that sound very similar to the Band’s best songs on Music From Big Pink.
“Spoonful”
CD Reissue | 2007 | Bear Family | buy from bear | amazon ]
Original Vinyl | 1969 | White Whale | search ebay ]