Album Reviews

Chick Corea “Now He Sings, Now He Sobs” (1968)

If you enjoy music, you need this album. When listening to this disc, one gets the sense that Chick is putting his entire self into the piano. The dark atonal passages delivered in perfect rhythm will send chills down your spine. The first two tracks, Steps-What Was and Matrix, are worth the price alone. Corea plays with the fury and passion of the 1960s in the language of European modernists like Bartok and Stravinsky. The interesting part is that this album also swings. Hard. Roy Haynes is absolutely fabulous as always, and has the perfect sound to accompany Chick. Miroslav Vitous provides an extremely powerful rhythmic and harmonic presence, as well as virtuosic, freaklike proficiency in his solos. This is an overlooked masterpiece, and one of the best trio performances of all time. —BKnola

March 14, 2012 | Posted in:

Judas Priest “Point of Entry” (1981)

Continuing the dulling of the blade that was British Steel, Point of Entry is an alternately sizzling and fizzling collection of tunes from Judas Priest, well enough crafted and delivered, but tinged with the uneasy understanding that these guys are compromising at best – more like skillfully selling out to a wider, dumber audience. Point of Entry delivers enough highlights, gear-shifters like “Heading Out to the Highway” and the Turbo-prescient moto-metal of “Desert Plains,” dim-witted but harmless entries “You Say Yes” and “Hot Rockin’,” and the plodding starbound “Solar Angels” all being convincing if not entirely inspiring rockers. “Turning Circles” stands as a catchy diversion but elsewhere the commercial “Troubleshooter” and party-down “All the Way” are flat-out embarrassments, the album limply galloping across the finish line with “On the Run.” From another band, a simple, effective piece of early-80’s metal marketing here, but from Priest Point of Entry only earns a grudgingly-issued pass, the boys playing the game and winning with little of the finesse and imagination of old. —Ben

Jean Knight “Mr. Big Stuff” (1971)

It’s easy to overlook Jean Knight’s sole – killer – Stax album, as it so evidently centres on the huge, huge hit “Mr. Big Stuff”. But that smoking, slightly reggae-esque funk jam really wasn’t a fluke. Miss Knight had pipes that were greased in the finest Deep South gospel tradition, and, when paired to the producing magic of Wardell Quezerque, she had the ability to churn out a soulful masterpiece of an album, every bit the equal of Aretha Franklin or Mavis Staples’ finest moments.

Knight’s rough, blues-drenched vocal is apparent on the slow grinding, gospelish workout “A Little Bit of Something (Is Better Than All of Nothing”), where her huge voice is accompanied by Jerry Puckett’s sweet, country-soul guitar noodlings and divine back up vocals. It’s back to the Funk with the hard socking “Don’t Talk About Jody”, a sturdy answer song to Johnnie Taylor’s smash hit “Jody’s Got Your Girl and Gone”. Jody’s been getting a bad rep, per Jean Knight, and she’s here to set some things straight, cause Jody made her happy. Fat, sleazy funkin’ comes your way once more with the ploddin’ “Take Him (You Can Have Him)”, an incessant groove-based finger-snapper layered in horns and propelled by William Laverne Robbin’s thick bass. There’s an old-timey feel to the glorious, slow ballad “Why I Keep Living These Memories”, with its jazzy guitar chops and low-fi piano. A great showcase for Knight’s churchily testifyin’ vocal power. The same can be said for the bone-chilling, richly orchestrated mid-tempo lilter “One-Way Ticket to Nowhere (It’s the End of the Ride)”, a warm tune filled with Bacharach-like hooks and melodies. That chanking guitar, poppin’ bass and gutbucket groove is back with the swankin’ “Call Me Your Fool If You Want To” and the incisively rompin’ “Your Six-Bit Change”, featuring more crunchy guitar lines and piles of brass.

It’s a shame Jean Knight has been typecast as the “Mr. Big Stuff”-singer. This album is testament to a huge talent. Do yourself and justice a favor and get this gem of an album. —soulmakossa

Wayne Shorter “Native Dancer” (1975)

Native Dancer is a wonder of a record. Wayne Shorter is the greatest (especially soprano) sax player in the history of Jazz, and here, he plays at his best. The music is not really Jazz. Instead, Brazilian star Milton Nascimento sings and adds his unique wizardry to the lush, tropical mood of the set. There’s not a trace of Bossa Nova in this music but Nascimento’s idiosyncratic handwriting instead. The compositions sound natural, though, and not as forcefully “intelligent” as the music Shorter would record after this. The musicians (what a lineup!) cook up a unique sound; no one tries to show off, it’s all mood and sensuality. It’s useless to pick out tunes – the flow is perfect, and so is this LP.

Native Dancer has been slandered and overlooked even by Wayne Shorter fans, perhaps because it doesn’t cater for the preconceived concepts of the average Jazz connoisseur, but make no mistake, Native Dancer is a timeless classic, irrespective of the tags attached to it (Jazz/MPB). To me, it’ll always be one of the 70s’ definite highlights. —Yofriend

Wings “Wildlife” (1971)

I really don’t get why people talk so much smack about this album. Sure, it lacks the punch and  quality of Ram, but it sounds like a band’s first album. In that respect, a seasoned professional like Paul McCartney really succeeds. Wings’ Wild Life is intimate, unpolished, and maybe even a little crude.

On “Mumbo,” Paul manages to put together a throat-shredding yet lyric-less piece which is shocking (I can’t imagine what his fans must have thought upon hearing this for the first time back in 1971!) yet rather interesting. The over 6 1/2-minute “Wild Life” is a song that Paul wrote after (as the lyrics clearly describe) walking through an African park and seeing a sign which read, “Remember: the animals have the right of way.” I find it to be an incredible piece of music. Paul screams his lungs out, “WILD LIFE,” as the band harmonizes beautifully, “whatever happened to?”–a nice clash of sound. The lyrical and instrumental buildup on this song is amazing. On “Some People Never Know,” a sweet love song and another long one, Paul & Linda do a near-duet. The result is actually very nice. Linda handles most of the lead vocals on “I Am Your Singer” competently. A lot of people made fun of her vocal capabilities, but no one ever seemed to realize that her voice matched Paul’s perfectly…despite the fact that he obviously overshadowed her skill-wise. The piano-based “Dear Friend” has the eeriest sound of any record Paul has ever made. Desolate & beautiful. —TMOFP

R.E.M. “Murmur” (1983)

Prior to listening to Murmur and the rest of the R.E.M.’s 80’s discography I was only familiar with the band for their radio hits that would start appearing on Document and carry them through a wave of commercial success through the 90’s. I had no idea how much I would enjoy the straightforward, melodic, jangle pop of their formative days. I never had the highest opinion of Jangle Pop either but after spending the last few months with Murmur, I apparently was listening to the wrong bands. The combination of each band member’s unique talents makes Murmur one of the finest alternative rock albums of all time and an essential for the genre.

“Radio Free Europe” is a phenomenal opening track and is indicative of the general sound of the band’s first five albums. Buck’s free flowing guitar playing, Stipe’s unique, mumbled vocal delivery, Mill’s backing vocals and thumping bass line, and last but not least Bill Berry’s propulsive drumming technique. Every track here is packed with energy, even the slower “Talk about the Passion” and “Perfect Circle”. The uptempo tracks are controlled chaos and sound like the band is racing to finish the song whilst putting as much content into their efforts as possible. Lots of bands can attempt this style but few can do it with the organization and simplicity of Murmur. —Dan

Love “Four Sail” (1969)

When people talk about Arthur Lee and Love, it’s generally not Four Sail they’re talking about. A pity – because this album is just as crucial as the first three “classic-lineup” records – albeit for slightly different reasons. Some would argue that Love lost much of the magic that initially drew listeners in after the career-defining Forever Changes – that Lee had nothing left to say and nowhere to go. An understandable stance, in light of his already significant achievements, but simply not true.

Four Sail features a completely re-tooled lineup – with a more muscular power trio augmenting Lee’s still ornate songwriting sensibilities. While the new band works squarely in the zone of the changing times (post-Hendrix acid-blues virtuosity), there are more than enough of Lee’s trademark flamenco guitar lines and intuitive songwriting twists and turns to mark this as something that could only be a Love album. Frankly, it’s exciting to hear his singular instincts applied to a new model, and to their credit, the band run with it, sounding vital and electric, re-animating some of the scrappy garage-band energy that made “Seven And Seven Is” so invigorating. Incredibly, Lee’s fragile humanism still manages to cut through the din, scaling new emotional heights in songs like “Robert Montgomery” and “Always See Your Face.” One of the things that set Love apart, and that remains undissipated here, was Lee’s fearlessness in laying his heart and soul out for the crushing, conveying the joy and terror of the human experience in ways that few dared, or would have had the eloquence to articulate. Things would go downhill pretty quickly for Lee after this, but Four Sail remains the defiant last stand of a formidable creative mind, still capable of flipping the script and brokering triumph out of dissolution. —Jon Treneff

Vanilla Fudge “Renaissance” (1968)

Renaissance has a dense, intense sound that permeates every track. It is an emotional whirlpool – the introspection of “Thoughts”, the triumph of “Thats What Makes A Man”, the bliss of “Paradise”, the desperation of “The Sky Cried When I Was A Boy”, to the utter horror of “The Spell That Comes After”. Played a high volume, the overwhelming climax on “The Spell That Comes After” will plaster you to the back wall whilst the poem in the middle of “Season of the Witch” will make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. The album has a consistency of style throughout from the opening crash to the spooky whistled signature of “the beat goes on” at the end, always intense and often at the point of mental and physical breakdown. Blistering guitar drenched in Hammond organ pumped through a wall of Leslie speakers backed by one of the best rhythm sections ever, not to mention Mark Stein’s powerful emotional vocal.

No other record sounds like this record, it is truely unique. —Tony

Bob Welch “French Kiss” (1977)

Following a brief affair with heavy rock on the pair of Paris releases, Bob Welch puckers up and lands a solo soft rock triumph on French Kiss. While some of that guitar crunch remains, it and Welch’s trademark baked goods vocals are wrapped in silky disco strings and dance floor beats throughout the mesmerizingFrench Kiss. The LP finds Welch as a post-hippie playboy on the prowl through irrepressible entries like the alluring “Ebony Eyes,” “Hot Love, Cold World,” and the Fleetwood/McVie/Buckingham assisted infatuation of “Easy to Fall” and “Sentimental Lady,” originally cut for the Mac’s Bare Trees. Elsewhere the disco-rockin’ “Carolene,” funky “Outskirts,” vintage Welch space-drifter “Danchiva” and sunny Claifornia dreamin’ duo of “Lose my Heart” and “Lose Your Heart” only serve to solidify the album’s appeal – rare is the seventies softie that never dips in quality, all while delivering the lounge lizard magic in such spot-on fashion as on French Kiss. —Ben

AC/DC “Highway to Hell” (1979)

1979’s Highway to Hell is Australian Proto-Metal/Hard Rock band AC/DC’s high water mark. And last album ever recorded with their fantastic original Vocalist, Bon Scott. There is nothing fancy or the least bit pretentious here. this album is raw, driving, in your face Hard and Heavy Guitar Rock. Some of the greatest and most powerful songs AC/DC ever recorded over a long career are right here. Including the amazing, simmering ode to danger and terror Night Prowler, and the epic aggro-fest If You Want Blood You Got It. Then there’s the blazing and unrepentant title track, the snarling Shot Down In Flames and raunchy Love Hungry Man. If You only own one AC/DC album it needs to be Highway To Hell, this defines the word classic. —Karl

Miroslav Vitous “Magical Shepherd” (1976)

Magical Shepherd is one of the most significant releases in mid ’70’s electro fusion jazz music, and ironically remains largely unrecognised. It is most decidedly unlike anything that else Miroslav Vitous recorded, with funky bass lines and extensive tape looping. A collaboration with Herbie Hancock, Magical Shepherd expands beyond the usual format of fusion jazz at the time, and ends up (on side one at least) producing sounds more reminiscent of modern house and jungle music (check out the use of the disco beats and loops in New York city). The atmospheric vocals by Cheryl Grainger and Onike would fit nicely into any recordings by Goldie. I cannot recommend this album highly enough.

If you like electro fusion jazz and do not have a copy, then your life is the poorer for such an omission. If you like Herbie Hancock’s electro fusion work then this album is compulsory listening. I have played it extensively on my Radio program and have always received calls from local club DJs amazed at the existence of the recording. As coordinator of [my station’s] Jazz Show it has become my personal mission to ensure that this recording gets the wide recognition that it deserves. —Peter

Peter Green “The End of the Game” (1970)

Where has this album been all my life? I’ve heard a lot of Peter Green, but never anything quite like this. Free-form jazz/rock – hard psych – blues-rock with some of the most wicked guitar work you’ll ever hear. In fact, all of the musicians put on amazing performances, even though Green’s blistering guitar is the stand-out.

Each track here is instrumental, and each carries its own flavor. The opener, Bottom’s Up, features a driving blues-rock jam with Green running cricles around his fretboard. Timeless Time is slower, more psychedelic in nature, with a slight avant-garde jazz feeling. Descending scale is another psychedelic workout that’s more like a trip than a song, with each player finding room to explore. Burnt Foot is a more straight ahead, driving heavy blues rock piece with some heavy drumming and killer bass lines. Hidden Game starts out sounding almost like mid 70’s jammin’ Grateful Dead, with Green’s guitar tone eerily like Jerry’s. Then the song slows down and becomes yet another psychedelic soaked ride, reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s more piano dominated tracks, with a slow yet wicked solo. The final cut, and title track, The End of the Game, is simply a masterpiece. Green and company break out the free-form element in the extreme. Green’s guitar howls, moans, wails, cries and even sighs, all the while surrounded by hazy bass and crashing, scattered drumming.

However impressed I had been with the great guitar work of Mr. Peter Green, after hearing this gem of an album I’m even more impressed. Highly recommended. —Doug