The more I listen to Randy Newman, the more I’m impressed. It’s not his voice, even though his nasally vocal has a pleasant, relaxing quality. It’s certainly not the music which on Little Criminals is particularly one paced with a soporific, dozy aspect. It’s not even the lyrics. They can be incisive, biting and sardonic but they also are simple and endearing with a homey feel. No, it’s none of that. What it is, is the subjects he choses to write about and the subtle twists he puts into the stories. Take the title track as a prime example. Start listening to “Little Criminals” and you have this picture of indigant locals determined to rid their town of a small-time drug dealer. But, as the song progresses, you suddenly realise his protagonists are themselves criminals worried about a newcomer taking away their business – or, even better, lowering the tone of the neighbourhood because they’re into armed robbery and consider that a higher calling than drug dealing. Brilliant! Or how about “Rider In The Rain” which subverts the myth of the lone cowboy wandering the plains by reminding us of the wife he’s abandoned and the fact he’s “raped and pillaged” his way to the place he is now. Or “In Germany Before The War” which conjures up a picture of a old guy shutting up his store every day to wander down to the banks of the Rhine to gaze out over the river. Only this guy is (I think) Peter Kurten, a real-life serial killer, preying on defenceless children. And all that’s without mentioning Newman’s dig at psychiatry in “Sigmund Freud’s Impersonation Of Albert Einstein In America” or how appearances can be deceptive with “Jolly Coppers On Parade”. And another example of how satire can backfire in “Small People” which a great many people took offence to because they believed Newman was deadly serious. Although, thinking about it, I suppose it wasn’t technically a backfire as the song became a massive hit! As you would expect there are a couple of tender love songs – “Kathleen (Catholicism Made Easy)” and “I’ll Be Home”. Plus the song “Baltimore” is particularly affecting as I visited the city very recently. I think there must have been a great deal of urban regeneration since that song was written because Newman’s Baltimore is a far bleaker and darker place than I saw. I don’t think Newman will ever release a classic album because of the way he writes. The uncertainty of the does he mean it? is he joking? is unsettling and uncomfortable and makes it impossible to like everything. But I’m equally convinced that, after hearing just two of his albums, there will always be something for me to enjoy on all his others. –Ian
Album Reviews
Charlie Parker & Dizzy Gillespie “Bird and Diz”
This is hardly a typical recording, but I have to say that this is my favorite jazz album ever recorded. It’s the only recording to have Thelonious Monk playing together with Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, which in itself is pretty amazing. Although their styles are so distinct, they do play quite well together. Hearing them playing together is almost surreal. It’s hard for me to describe how and why I like this album. I think the main reason that I like it is that it’s so strange and so normal at the same time. The tunes exemplify this…two catchy blues (Bloomdido and Mohawk), a laid-back song to the same chord changes as “Stompin at the Savoy” (Relaxin’ with Lee), a slowish and rather bizarre rhythm-changes tune (An Oscar for Treadwell), leap frog which is just ridiculously fast, and rather cheerful…and then…my melancholy baby. And of course…bizarre stuff happens to the harmonies and rhythms when you put these musicians together. One moment it sounds so old-fashioned, the next moment totally modern. I love it all the way! –Alex
Circle Jerks “Group Sex” (1980)
When Keith Morris left seminal Californian Punksters Black Flag, it was obvious he needed something even more shocking, for pushing the boundaries of music and taste was it seems his ambition. So in 1979 he formed Circle Jerks with Greg Hetson (Guitar), Roger Rogerson (Bass), and Lucky Lehrer (Drums). A reputation for the most wild local shows and enormous amounts of alcohol intake onstage and off started the folklore legend which attracted the disaffected SoCal Skater punks. The debut “Group Sex” is amazing by its brevity, with 14 songs spanning just under 16 minutes. It’s typical early American Punk thrash, razor sharp lyrics, tinny production and songs covering Politics, middle class Hollywood malaise, drugs, and of course sex… What seems unusual for the time and the sentiment, is that Hetson is a strong Guitarist and musically the band seems tight which in turn raises the quality above many of the bands of the period. The highlights include “I Just Want Some Skank”, “Beverly Hills” and “World Up My Ass”.That same year, the group was one of several California punk bands to be immortalized in the Penelope Spheeris documentary “The Decline of Western Civilization”, and live versions of four songs from “Group Sex” appear on the movie’s soundtrack album. “Group Sex” is a rabid pulsing slice of aggression liberally smattered with gruff and gritty lyrics from Morris. Though not essential, it’s a useful snapshot of American Punk circa 1980. –Ben
Rudimentary Peni "Death Church" (1983)
Pick up any Rudimentary Peni album an stare at it’s wild cover art for awhile. This is what it will most likely sound like; total no-pose insanity, and in a very dark shade. This is all a product of Nick Blinko (aka Rudimentary Peni) who’s demented art and mind grace every square inch of every Peni release. 1983’s “Death Church” is probably the most accessable album, but in no way comprimises to sanity. Subtle mind altering sonic tone rolls off what would otherwise be generic, mid-tempo, three chord death rock cuts. While their earlier work had more of a harsh UK hardcore edge, and later they went absolutely bonkers making LSD trip style punk sound collages, Death Church keeps a cool 4/4 pace through the whole record that makes it sound like some sort of meaty saturday night car cruising music that goths can get down to, which is nuts enough in itself but then it’s also super Brittish sounding? I dont know, man. What can I say, the guy’s crazy. And you are too if you don’t give this raging slab a listen. –Alex
Jellyfish “Bellybutton” (1990)
From The Beatles right through to the likes of The Lightning Seeds, Britain has a knack of producing bands who deliver a brand of pure, polished pop. The content may have dark or serious overtones but the melody and vocals carry a rare, unblemished character. When a band is lauded as new pop sensations in America don’t expect the same characteristics. In some respects our pop is their AOR whilst their pop arrives way over from left field. They Might Be Giants and Eels are good illustrations of this idiosyncrasy and Jellyfish can be added to that list. They may have more rounded edges than the others but, underneath, they are equally strange. Vocally the closest comparison to Jellyfish is Crowded House (Andy Sturmer even sounds like Neil Finn), but when it comes to lyrical content they are a mile apart. Absent fathers (“The Man I Used To Be”), prostitution (“The King Is Half Undressed”), marital abuse (“She Still Loves Him”), rampant consumerism and parental neglect (“All I Want Is Everything”) are all covered. It’s testimony to the skill of the band that, no matter how heavy the subject, the music retains a lightness of touch to stop proceedings becoming too maudlin. Special mention should also be given to “I Wanna Stay Home” and “Baby’s Coming Back” which, on their own, prove that Jellyfish was definitely a band that got away. –Ian
Automatic Man “Automatic Man” (1976)
There he is again. That Blue Space Alien staring out, empty-eyed from my LP collection. As if using telepathy, he beckons me to reach out for him, pull out his vinyl body and put him my turntable. It’s funny how after all these years since I first saw him in the record bins at Peaches Records in Ohio, he still has that effect on me. But I know the real lure of this LP is not the Alien, but the Space-Fusion Prog of the band, that brings me back to play that album. Automatic Man’s debut LP, in my opinion is on the best of the fusion/prog era, perhaps equaling Return To Forever’s classic Romantic Warrior.
Automatic Man was a super-group of sorts. The self-titled debut album featured a stellar lineup: Keyboard player and singer Bayete, whose voice eerily resembles Jimi Hendrix, played with Stanley Clark. S.F. Bay area musician Doni Harvey, ex-Gong, played bass. Pat Thrall, was a member of Stomu Yamashita’s band Go, was on guitar. Formerly of Santana, legendary percussionist Michael Shrieve blazed on drums.
This isn’t a loose jam session or self-indulgent doodling, this is an album driven by strong songwriting. The opening “Atlantis Rising/Comin’Through” displays a sound that manages to keep its footings firmly in the here and now, whilst simultaneously oozing an air of futuristic soundscapes that render it ripe for evoking mental imagery. Power number “My Pearl”, with its driving funk/synth vibe, demonstrate that Automatic Man had the chops to craft a pop single. Pat Thrall’s riffs even give you the impression that Hendrix has been transported back from the dead to appear, or even cloned! You got to check out Thrall’s the guitar solo on the title track. It’s got to be the best solo that no one has ever heard! The lush keyboard arrangements add a reverberating layer of an almost alien-like displacement to the overall sound of the proceedings. Meanwhile, breezier numbers such as “One ‘N One” and “Newspapers” exhibit a more other-worldly, cold sound, as if lying on a beach on Pluto (does Pluto have beaches?)
Space references aside, this album really rocks. There is no filler on this LP and is truly a satisfying listen. If you see the Blue Alien, let him beam you aboard for the ride. –Ed
Japan “Adolescent Sex” (1978)
Deciding enough’s enough is a tough call to make at the best of times. For a band accustomed to fame and its requisite trappings the severance must be that much harder. So it’s understandable why so many plow on regardless of their relevance or quality of work. The Stones, for instance, will continue until someone drops dead but their sound will remain timeless. On the other hand, Bon Jovi have had nothing to say since the early 90s but refuse to accept the fact. Japan belong to an elite club. Although diehards will argue, they jacked it in at just the right time leaving a stunning, if flawed, volume of work. I’ve always had a preference for their original incarnation as trash glam funksters a la New York Dolls or Hanoi Rocks but they were criminally ignored. There is some quite brilliant guitar playing from Rob Dean, particularly on “Suburban Love”, “Wish You Were Black” and “Television” but this, along with David Sylvian’s strangled, sneering, kazoo-like vocals were lost when they turned towards the New Romantic movement. Their musical vista of the seedy, dangerous, disposable isolation of modern day living deserves retrospective re-evaluation. –Ian
Mike Oldfield “Tubular” Bells (1973)
It’s difficult to asess the importance of “Tubular Bells” and indeed the career of Mike Oldfield without reference to two important figures who contributed to the success of the album, Richard Branson and William Friedkin. The 19 year old Oldfield had used valuable studio time funded by Branson, to record his debut, then titled “Opus 1”. Oldfield then hawked this work around the major record companies to complete rejection, and Branson, who at that time ran a mail order company, decided to form his own record company (Virgin), and release this (retitled “Tubular Bells”) as the inaugural record. William Friedkin was at this time Directing the ground breaking horror flick “The Exorcist”, and having heard “Tubular Bells” decided to use the opening eerie tinkling piano intro, decided to use it as the title music for the movie. And so, the die was cast and the album would go on to sell sixteen million copies worldwide, win Oldfield a Grammy award, and develop a new genre of music. It’s difficult to review “Tubular Bells” as a straight Popular, Classical or Rock recording. It contains all of these genres and more, classically structured, it’s a complex, startlingly unique, and undoubtedly valiant recording. At times the sound is beautifully symphonic, at other times hauntingly powerful. Oldfield uses over thirty different musical instruments and probably just as many percussive instruments, to create a plethora of differing interludes, some gentle, some sonically robust, all linked together by intricate tempo changes perfectly exemplified about twelve minutes into side one where a delicately intricate section is cleverly interrupted by rifferama guitar crash chords which fade into the next musical excursion. The album finishes with a traditional English folk tune which perfectly concludes a divinely satisfying album. Some Oldfield fans argue that “Hergest Ridge” and “Ommadawn” are better musical performances, but I stoutly defend “Tubular Bells” because of its bravery, complexity and utter originality. “Tubular Bells” remains a colossal achievement. –Ben H
Devo “Are We Not Men?” (1978)
Imagine the scene. The house lights dim on an expectant crowd. It’s difficult to see through the darkness but the swish of heavy fabric announces the stage curtains being drawn back. The spots slowly rise on a stage shrouded in a huge sheet of black plastic which rises to cover the vague shape of a drum-kit. A bright beam of white light picks out movement from under the sheet and flashes off a number of blades which pierce the plastic and slash vicious tears into the black skin. Like a sci-fi caesarean Devo push themselves through, clutching instruments and dressed in vivid yellow boiler suits. It takes a little time to rip the sheet away from the drums before they launch into “Uncontrollable Urge”, but it’s still got to be one of the best entrances ever.
Far more guitar-led than their later releases, Are We Not Men? Was considered radical upon its release in 1978. Much closer to the punk revolution than is realised, Devo savaged the American materialistic way of life and dared to suggest that humankind was de-evolving. From sex related psycho-babble (“Uncontrollable Urge”) to satellites falling from the sky (“Space Junk”), from consumerism (“Too Much Paranoias”) to genetics (“Mongoloid”), this is a very strange and, on one plain, deeply disturbing album. It remains a powerful indictment of the human condition. –Ian
Bill Withers “Just As I Am” (1971)
What a cool debut album! At first glance (including the cover), “Just as I Am” seems so low-key, almost unspectacular, but once you get used to these songs, and when you consider this is almost forty years ago, you come to realize just how much sophistication this guy Bill Withers had back then when he decided to record his first album. And in spite of a respectable cover version of Let It Be, Bill Withers outs himself as a respectable songwriter. His music is as related to the Blues and the Soul tradition as it is to the Folk tradition of, say, a James Taylor. One of Bill Withers’ best records and still a great record. –Yofriend
Montrose “Montrose” (1973)
Arguably the greatest American hard rock album ever, Montrose’s 1973 debut is a stunning display of instrumental and vocal prowess. As the prototypical 4-piece – guitar/vocals/bass/drums – they recorded one of the all-time essential slabs of heavy rock. Ronnie Montrose makes a tremendous leap from in-demand session musician to bandleader and legit guitar hero, Sam Hagar (wasn’t even Sammy yet) sets the standard for American rock vocals, Bill “the Electric” Church lays down some amazingly fat basslines, and Denny Carmassi smacks his drums with intense precision and manly vigor.
Montrose is a truly groundbreaking album, wildly influential on future generations of hard rock and metal bands. Incredibly tight, musically exciting, with relatively short songs (for the era) Montrose forged a new, bracingly kinetic sound, fresher than the competition. Eschewing the lengthy jamming of Led Zeppelin or Deep Purple, much less crushingly heavy than Black Sabbath, not needing the theatricality of Alice Cooper or Kiss or Queen, more talented and less over-reaching than Grand Funk, tighter than BTO or The Amboy Dukes, less overtly boogie/blues oriented and more streamlined than Foghat or the James Gang, less ponderous than Rush or Uriah Heep, less myopic than Mahoghany Rush, not at all scary like early BOC, more catchy than Cactus or Crow, harder rocking than the southern rock bands. Note: I honestly adore all (well, most) of the above-mentioned bands, I’m just using them for contrast.
Sammy Hager and Ronnie Montrose managed one more album together (1974’s fine Paper Money) before collapsing under the weight of the two competing gigantic egos, but the debut album is the real classic. Montrose has always had a permanent high spot on my top-ten “desert island disc” list. At least three songs on this album still make frequent rotation on most hard rock and classic rock stations, at least on the West Coast. Both Hagar and Ronnie Montrose admit it was a career peak. Say, how about a reunion album and tour while we’re dreaming? Crank it on up! —Darerock
Silver Apples “Silver Apples” (1968)
Considering that this kind of music was released in 1968 is amazing, but even more amazing is that it still kicks the ass of every other electro-pop-band, save perhaps Kraftwerk. The oscillators flow wildly, the drums lay mindnumbing beats and the lyrics, maybe hippie-esque considering the day, somehow seem ageless still. And it’s unbelievably catchy, like in a pop way. I could tell a funny tale about Syd Barrett finding a Close Encounters of the Third Kind-style alien mothership wrecked somewhere in the forest and going all circuit breaking on the mushrooms, but I won’t. Pioneering and reigning still. All hail the whirly-bird! –Tuukka
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