Album Reviews

Keith Jarrett “Death and the Flower” (1974)

In the early 70s, Keith Jarrett formed two groups. One recorded for the German label, ECM, the other (as on this LP) for the traditional American Jazz label, Impulse. The Impulse team consisted of Paul Motian on drums, Dewey Redman on reeds, Charlie Haden on bass, Guilherme Franco on percussion and Jarrett on the grand piano. I prefer this group to the ECM band. In both bands, Jarrett never touched an electric keyboard. Everybody was into some kind of spiritual calling at that time; Jarrett is no exception as the album title and his “poem” on the cover show. Death And The Flower is an example of how Keith Jarrett helped shape the way Jazz was to sound in the future. A new “World Music” feel and the chamber music like intimacy make this an innovative LP. The music still sounds fresh and relevant. The first side of this album, recorded in ’74, is filled with the title track. It spends the first minutes to create an African atmosphere with percussion and flute. Then the double bass contributes a riff and eventually, the piano starts and after a searching phase, the beat carries the song to harmonic sequence of minor chords. As the song flows, each musician takes a chance to show his skills. Then, the song slows down just to pick up a new speed, and Keith provides an irresistible riff on the piano moving the band to a dense groove.

Prayer is a slow and quiet meditation showing how subtly this group plays. It’s amazing to hear how well each musician listens to what is going on. Jarrett’s improvisation demonstrates a strong influence of the classical tradition, notably Debussy, and at one point, he creates a minimalist pattern á la “Steve Reich”. The last song, Great Bird, recalls the Coltrane sound of his last years. Based on the theme (a falling sequence), there’s free collective improvisation. The band corresponds in dreamlike confidence. Death And The Flower, in a word, is recommendable, not just to Jarrett fans. –Yofriend

The English Beat “Wha’ppen” (1981)

When Wha’ppen hit stores in 1981, many (English) Beat fans probably wondered just that: What happened? Actually, in the short time between the releases of their frenetic 1980 debut and this more cerebral follow-up, lots happened. An increasingly unpopular prime minster lorded over a Great Britain still in the throes of a deep recession. Racism and nationalism ran rampant, and social decay seemed everywhere. Very few albums of this era reflect its troubled times as effectively as this Birmingham band’s sophomore effort. Musically, Wha’ppen denotes a departure from the classic ska influences of their debut, I Just Can’t Stop it, replaced with forays into other Jamaican forms such as roots reggae (“Doors of Your Heart”) and dub (“Cheated”). But these serve as mere jumping-off points. The band finds inspiration in other parts of the Caribbean (the calypso-infused “All Out to get You” and the steel drum-flecked “Over and Over”) and also the Mother Continent (the Soweto township jive-infused “French Toast”). But while these tropical influences make the arrangements sunny and bright, the subject matter is decidedly DARK. A close listen to much of the lyrics reveals an unsettling undercurrent of fear, paranoia, and dread. “Monkey Murders” delivers a cutting condemnation of domestic violence, “I Am Your Flag” questions the logic of dying for one’s country, and “Get-a-Job” addresses Britain’s spiraling unemployment. But the album’s most chilling moment is surely “Drowning”, a vicious attack on capitalist excess, wherein chief “toaster” Ranking Roger mocks the song’s upper-class fat-cat protagonist as he sinks to his watery grave. Some have criticized the silliness of the album’s closing track, “The Limits We Set”. After all, we’ve just endured a musical roller-coaster ride through all manner of serious social ills, and now we have a song about… shoplifting? But in actuality, it’s one of the Beat’s cleverest tracks, a song that reminds us that we’re no better than the corrupt leaders and institutions whom we condemn if we don’t hold ourselves to the same high moral standards. The Beat would make one more great album, the classy and eclectic Special Beat Service, before calling it quits, but this one was their most edgy and adventurous—a can of day-glo paint splattered across the grey and cracking facade of Margaret Thatcher’s Great Britain. If the 2 Tone movement had a Sgt. Pepper’s, this was definitely it. —Richard P

Todd Rundgren “Runt: The Ballad of Todd Rundgren” (1971)

A stunning album of singular vision, Runt: The Ballad of Todd Rundgren stands as the odd man out in the Rundgren discography, decidedly un-eclectic, focused on a mellow, transcendent goal. Lonely-Friday-night-turned-love-at-first-sight opener “Long Flowing Robe” sets the stage with it’s easy-goin’ groove and explosive chorus (and the greatest single note tom fill in rock history) bathing the shag carpet in an orange glow, the rest of The Ballad germinating under it’s warmth. Heartstring-tugging, piano based ballads with rich vocal harmonies like “Wailing Wall,” “The Ballad (Denny & Jean),” “Be Nice to Me” and “Hope I’m Around” dominate, and sit comfortably next to head-noddin’ rockers like “Bleeding,” “Chain Letter” and “Parole.” The “less is more” philosophy is at play here (shockingly so for those coming at this album backwards after digesting the multi-layered entries to follow) with a straightforwardly simple instrumentation giving plenty of breathing room to the songs, each of which feature hooks galore – each a minor classic. With the career-defining “Something/Anything” lurking ’round the corner, “The Ballad” stands as an unheralded masterpiece that has undoubtedly served as the final straw for those who choose to dig deeper and have come to hold as their mantra: “Todd Is God.” –Ben

Phil Manzanera “Diamond Head” (1975)

“Diamond Head” is more easily compared to Brian Eno’s albums than those of Roxy Music. The eclectic and adventurous sound is marvelously produced and recorded with a great line-up of musicians and singers and features two of Eno’s best ever vocal performances on ‘Big Day’ and ‘Miss Shapiro’ (both of which regularly run in little loops inside my head at the unlikeliest of moments). Then there is a fine performance by John (just out of King Crimson) Wetton on ‘Same Time Next Week’ – complete with Fripp-esque guitar work and Crimson-style Mellotron colorings. A lost classic? Definitely. This is one of the albums I would not want to be without on a desert island . Further proof that the great music of the seventies has not been entirely lost in the digital age. –Reeves

Raspberries “Raspberries” (1972)

Ground Zero for Powerpop on this side of the Atlantic started with the Raspberries debut album. After the initial wave of British Invasion bands faded, American rock fans moved onto the music of the “Summer of Love”, with their long psychedelic jams and politico-leaning lyrics. But on the shores of Lake Erie, Eric Carmen and Wally Bryson still believed in the power and the spirit of supremely crafted pop songs packed with the excitement of their musical idols – The Beatles, The Hollies, The Who and the Small Faces. From the opening chords of their mega-hit ‘Go All the Way’, Bryson’s magnificent blistering guitar work, Carmen’s raw Steve Marriott styled singing, and Jim Bonfanti`s wild approximation of Keith Moon, served notice that the 3-minute power chord song was alive and well.

“Go All The Way” opens the album. The song speaks for itself in both spirit and meaning. “Come Around and See Me” with its Latin music-accent and lovely acoustic guitar, showcases a band loose enough in its self-impressed mod guitar band status, that “the guys” toss around lines like “Que Pasa, Baby” just for fun at the song’s end. Further showing off their influences, ‘I Saw the Light’ and ‘Waiting’ are fine slices of baroque rock, ala, The Left Banke. Side two’s “I Can Remember” offers an eight-minute melody in the mold of early Bee Gees. Here, Eric gives us the first sampling of his classical music training. It starts off as a gorgeous ballad, just Eric’s beautifully sweet voice and piano, then progresses into an up-tempo rocker, full of chord changes and the band’s trademark, multi-part harmonies.

Nearly 40 years later, “Raspberries” has stood the test of time in its stature and place in rock annuals. Listen to it again or for the first time, I think you’ll agree as well. –Ed

Funky From Now On: 
A Guide to Funk, Part I “Proto-Funk”

Funk’s advent was the result of a convergence of many musical events, a “perfect storm” precipitated by the coalescing of all the major postwar African-American musical forms, among them jazz, blues, r&b, and gospel. Like many other innovations in American popular music, it came into its own in the ’60s. Its evolution can be heard in the output of musicians from just about every major US city, but Detroit, Philadelphia, Memphis, and New Orleans (see below) were the real hotbeds of activity. But if there is one individual who can be seen as the form’s prime architect, it’s a man from Macon, Georgia by the name of James Brown. Accentuating rhythm above all else, and essentially making his backing band, the Famous Flames, a massive percussion instrument, the Godfather laid the groundwork for The Groove. This proto-Funk sound exists in some shape or form on just about all of his King Records releases from Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag onwards. But many of his peers were also throwing down. Here’s a short list.

1. The Bar-Kays Soul Finger (1967) Though there are other great tunes in this assortment of instrumentals, its title track, with its thumping bass and blasting horns, is deservedly the standout. Even the record’s unavoidable association with one of the greatest tragedies in Soul music history—it’s the only one the original lineup recorded before  three of its members perished with Otis Redding in a plane crash—can’t  detract from its joyous groove.

2. Sly and the Family Stone Dance to the Music (1968) This sophomore effort by the Bay Area psychedelic soulsters is where they really find their footing. Much more of a group effort than Sly’s later work, its melding of fuzzed-out guitar, stinging brass, life-affirming vocals, and the stellar basswork of one of funk’s greatest innovators, Larry Graham, ushered in a new era.

3. The Meters (1969) – No other city is as deserving of the title “The Cradle of Funk” as New Orleans. In the late ’60s, literally hundreds of artists in that city cooked up potent stews of tight grooves and fat beats, and the Meters were the undisputed head chefs. Their Allen Toussaint and Marshall Sehorn-produced debut features a smoking collection of instrumentals, including the original version of “Cissy Strut”, now a Funk standard.

4. Eddie Bo and the Soul Finders The Hook and Sling (1997) Elsewhere  in the Crescent City, this prolific national treasure, whose output spanned  from the early 50s to just a few months before his death in 2009, unleashed one of early Funk’s catchiest numbers, “The Hook and Sling”—a sizable  hit on the R&B charts in 1969. Every bit as much of an innovator as his peers, Bo unfortunately remained in their shadows for most of his career.  Even stranger, he never managed to cut a full-length LP during this, his most important, period. This 1997 compilation serves as the next best thing.

5. Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band Express Yourself (1970) Seminal release by Charles Wright and the best incarnation of the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band. [Read full review here!]

Further listening: Let’s face it: Funk is really a singles medium. It’s an unfortunate fact that many records from its golden era were hastily thrown together affairs. A typical LP might contain one or two amazing tracks scattered amongst some lackluster mid-tempo numbers and cheesy ballads. (Yes, we’re talking about you, James Brown!) This is where one can be thankful for the modern miracle called the compilation. The music industry initially was slow to recognize it as a genre fit for this type of (re)packaging, but by the mid-90s stylishly packaged funk compilations were a common sight in even mainstream record stores. Many of these are riddled with overplayed hits, so one is advised to dig deep. The Brits seem to do them the best. The London-based Soul Jazz Records sets the gold standard for comps and reissues. Their three volume New Orleans Funk series is an essential intro to some of the best music from Funk’s early days. Similarly, BGP’s Superfunk series is uniformly great. –Richard P

Pat Metheny & Ornette Coleman “Song X” (1986)

I love unlikely combinations in musical settings. I also love risks and artists who refuse to be pigeonholed. Nothing is more evident of this than on this improv workout from 1986: guitarist Pat Metheny and the innovative saxophonist/free jazz veteran Ornette Coleman’s Song X. Backed by two other Jazz legends, drummer Jack DeJohnette and bassist Charlie Haden, along with Coleman’s son, Denardo on Percussion, comes a free jazz gem that seemed to come from nowhere. Metheny shocked all of his defectors who loathe his smooth jazz tendencies on this record. At the time Song X was released, he was enjoying massive success with The Pat Metheny Group, filling venues and gaining extensive airplay with their highly accessible brand of fusion. Then comes this curve ball. He had always had an outspoken admiration for Ornette Coleman but the combination of the two in a musical setting still was a bit bizarre – but effective.

The interplay between Metheny and Coleman is unbelievably natural with Metheny playing abstract guitar lines perfectly intertwined with Coleman’s angular alto. Jack DeJohnette’s frantic (but cohesive) drumming is in fine form, he manages to squeeze everything out of his kit on this record, and then some. Bassist Charlie Haden is no stranger to this idiom (he’s been playing alongside Coleman since the late fifties) and sits in perfectly, providing a pulse all his own. Coleman’s son Denardo adds some esoteric percussion textures as well. It even stays innovative and fresh when Metheny picks up his dreaded guitar synth on one track. Song X isn’t just another set by a jazz super group, this record manages to do what all classic free jazz records have done before and after: be accessible, yet challenging, without being contrived. There is nothing trivial about this record. It’s a swinging set of avant-garde goodness by some of the best (and one with some new found street-cred) in the business. These guys dug playing on this session and you can feel the inspiration in the music. –ECM Tim

Nick Gilder “You Know Who You Are” (1977)

You Know Who You Are is an irresistible slab of glittery teen lust laid to wax, the castrato vocals of ex-Sweeney Todd singer Nick Gilder the perfect foil for detailing the blue movie diary “Rated X,” the squealing rockshow frenzy of “Backstreet Noise,” and Sunset sleaze of Sweeny Todd cuts “Roxy Roller” and “Tantalize.” Overall You Know Who You Are feels like the aural equivalent of a worn issue of Star, crammed front-to-back with trashy, tasteless pop that buzzes with electric ecstasy of Sweet and steamy glam grooves of classic T-Rex. –Ben

Terry Riley “A Rainbow In Curved Air” (1967)

Future Holden Caufields, venturing out into the big bad city just two decades later, would have no need to feel so alienated — not with Central Park Be-Ins to take part in and Terry Riley’s A Rainbow In Curved Air providing the imaginary soundtrack. Riley’s LP – produced in ’67 once again by Music Of Our Time overseer David Berhman- is the most blatantly pop-friendly of all experimental albums up until Philip Glass’s Glassworks (the latter designed for an upscale yuppie audience which didn’t exist at the height of the Vietnam war.) No such compromises on Riley’s part–his loose, drony improvisations, heard here in gloriously overdubbed three dimensions, appealed to eager, young ears opened up by the raga craze and all sorts of other Eastern “space.” And despite his benign, hippie veneer, the composer didn’t neglect the dark side of Aquarius either, as the ominous psychedelic swirl of “Poppy Nogood & The Phantom Band,” with its dense overlay of reeds, organ and tape loops, demonstrates ad infinitum. –SS

The Who “Face Dances” (1981)

Excluding the classic rock radio staple “Eminence Front” from 1982’s “It’s Hard,” the eighties weren’t terribly kind to The Who. At the time of “Face Dances” release, fans were still mourning the loss of Keith Moon while punk and emerging new wave were stealing press space and radio air-waves. It’s difficult to imagine now how proto-punkers like The Who couldn’t have easily coexisted alongside The Clash, but at the time they were considered almost polar opposites. (Long time Seattleites might remember both camp’s negative reaction at that disastrous double bill in the Kingdome in ’82). Listening now, though, and judged on it’s own merits, “Face Dances” is surprisingly enjoyable and this underdog of an LP finds its way onto my turntable and ipod more often than “Who’s Next.” “Face Dances” is definitely not in league with the aforementioned classic but neither has it been played to death for the last twenty-five years. Also, I now prefer a introspective Pete Townshend even if Roger Daltry still delivers his words with all the gusto of “Baba O’Riley.” For anyone who’s written this one off, pick up the next 99¢ copy you see and give it a fresh listen the way you might approach a Townshend or Entwistle LP. Not only does it contain some of Townshend’s finest (Don’t Let Go The Coat) and oddest lyrical moments (Did You Steal My Money, Cache Cache), it features the “quiet” Entwistle’s least quiet moment, “The Quiet One” along with everyone’s favorite guilty Who-pleasure, “You Better You Bet” and the album closer’s lost gem, “Another Tricky Day.” –David

Roxy Music “Stranded” (1973)

Stranded was Roxy Music’s first album after the departure of Brian Eno – who was undeniably the band’s driving force when it came to experimental avant-garde rock. No doubt the change in personnel lost the band a number of acolytes but there are enough traces of his influence remaining to make this the finest album the band ever released and, in my eyes at least, something of a classic. The introduction of Eddie Jobson’s woodwind rather than Eno’s spacey loops signalled a sea change in the band’s approach with Ferry using this smoother sound to promote himself as the ultimate suave womaniser who thought he could seduce with a mere twitch of his tonsils. And, on some of these tracks, that doesn’t sound too farfetched. With the passage of time it becomes ever more apparent that Roxy Music consisted of some truly excellent musicians. Phil Manzanera’s guitar, Andy Mackay’s sax and, in particular, one of the most underrated of drummers, Paul Thompson, all deserve equal credit even though they couldn’t compete with Ferry’s persona. The album contains eight tracks all of which are praiseworthy but special consideration should be given to “A Song For Europe”, “Amazona”, “Psalm” and the tour-de-force “Mother Of Pearl”. –Ian

Elton John “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy” (1975)

Strangely paradoxical how Elton John is now fiercely, almost neurotically, obsessed with protecting his personal life, yet in 1975 released Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy which purported to tell the story of his and Bernie Taupin’s struggle for recognition. Equally interesting, given his sexual ambivalence, is the unspoken story behind such songs as “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” and “We All Fall In Love Sometimes”. Interesting as all that is, the most important factor to remember about this album is that it’s an absolute cracker. Everything seems to have come together at the right time to create a near classic. This is Elton’s finest backing band. Davey Johnstone, Dee Murray, Nigel Ollson and Ray Cooper may have come and gone throughout his career but there can be no doubting he should have stuck with them. The artwork for the album by Alan Aldridge is superb and certainly one of my favorite covers. And the songs, because of the stories behind them, have power and poignancy. But, I said this is a near classic and that’s why reviewing is a personal business. Others may like “Tell Me When The Whistle Blows” and “(Gotta Get A) Meal Ticket”, I don’t and that’s were the album falls down. Still, the Captain and the Cowboy done good. –Ben