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In the year 1977, a few (albeit obvious) punk rock groups come to mind that brought the genre to the forefront: The Ramones, The Sex Pistols, The Damned, and (more or less) Television. (More or less in the sense that Television was arguably the first band to break free from the conventional punk rock mould and venture into more artistic territory.)
However, Suicide seemed to have taken a step back ten years, copping the garage rock swagger of Iggy Pop, the meandering psychedelic drones of the Doors and the Velvets, while at the same time utilizing a swirling, adventurous musicality one could only find on a Brian Eno record…but with the production cost of a carton of cigarettes. ((And since I’m rolling, I’ll go ahead and proclaim foreshadowing of the shoegaze boom ten years LATER (“Cheree” sounds eerily like the Spacemen 3 doing a version of “Louie Louie.”))
Finally, all of these influences and pre-cursors have been packaged into an album that’s barely half an hour long.
Pinheads, this is a punk rock album like no other. Believe it. —The7thSon
The most noticeable difference between this 1972 release and classic albums like Phallus Dei (1969), Yeti (1970), and Tanz der Lemminge (1971) is the shift from lengthy “freak outs” to shorter pieces that emphasize melody and harmony. In fact, most of the seven pieces on Wolf City are in the 3-6 minute range with only Surrounded by Stars reaching 8 minutes in length. I for one do not mind the change at all because it turns out that Amon Duul II was just as good at writing shorter pieces as they were at writing the longer pieces. The major selling point for me on Wolf City is the haunting, drifting melodies that are developed on this album – they are simply wonderful and make me forget the pieces are only a few minutes long. Furthermore, the interesting thing (and this is really clever) is that spacey, instrumental preludes and interludes are worked in here and there to create the illusion of a larger piece. The use of loads of synthesizers does not hurt either. All in all, this is a very good album that is recommended along with Carnival in Babylon (1972) which is somewhat similar. —Jeffrey
“Mama Too Tight” is an album whose original vinyl sides served as a proper division– the first side is among the most difficult to digest, but like many of the more complex free jazz works, bears rewards with repeated listens, the second side is much more accessible, moving through moods on the three different tunes. What makes this record difficult is the odd instrumentation– Shepp blows his tenor, and adds to this clarinet (Perry Robinson), trumpet (Tommy Turrentine), two trombones (Grachan Moncur III and Roswell Rudd), tuba (the mighty Howard Johnson, and a pianoless rhythm section (bassist Charlie Haden and drummer Beaver Harris). This unusual instrumentation is partially responsible for the difficulty in digesting the material on “Mama Too Tight”.
In particular, on the first side, “A Portrait of Rober Thompson (as a young man)”. While it feels like free improv, there appears to be a highly concrete structure, as Shepp states, restates, and exposes various themes (mostly gospel, march and swing influenced) throughout the piece. But it is tough, because it feels at times like an incoherent mess. Patience is the key to this one– early on, the more conventionally structured second side will be soothing in comparison. Over time, the piece will come to make sense, but patience and repeated focused listening will be required.
The second side is definitely more conventional, “Mama Too Tight” is a funky blowout, Mingus-like in its voicing and gospel-tinged hard bop styling, with some stunning soloing on the part of all the musicians involved. Like Mingus’ gospel-oriented work, this is just a lot of fun, a great great song, and actually is one of the most straightforward pieces on any early Shepp record– only his solo shows any real signs of the “Fire Music” sound. The ballad, “Theme for Ernie”, played passionately by Shepp with brass support voiced in an orchestral fashion, shwocases the leader’s ability to invoke mood and emotion through his playing. Shepp’s tone is thin and airy and has a plea of pain in it– this is really among the most beautiful work he’s ever done. “Basheer”, continuing the thread of more conventional sounds, has a big band does the blues feel to it– the playing is somewhat more “out” than the previous two, and once again, Shepp just wails away. its a really interesting piece.
Overall, this is a really great album, and probably a good jumping in point for Shepp’s work– it can be a bit difficult at first, but there’s a lot of great material here and its well worth the listen. —Michael
Ocean continues Eloy’s astral voyage via an appropriately watery retelling of the legend of Atlantis, Bornemann recounting the saga through his awe-struck, thick Germanic accent as the band delivers elegantly zonked-out jams buttressed by epic synthscapes and the mesmerizing bass riffs of Klaus-Peter Matziol. While the telling of Ocean’s narrative occasionally gets in the way of the music, the tracks’ extended forms are the perfect vehicle for Eloy’s brand of cosmic rock. —Ben
From the cover shot (which appears to have been taken in a sauna) onward, “Knights in White Satin” is a steamy, sleazy Euro disco album that manages to be both captivating and creepy at the same time. Over a steady kick drum beat, bouncy disco strings, and his trademark synthetic beeps, Moroder’s whispered, dirty old man vocals deliver erotically charged lyrics through his thick accent (and his thicker beard) that start off funny, only to make you feel like you need a shower by the end of the LP. And therein lies the appeal of the album, it’s infectious danceability is undeniable, while the wrongness of Moroder’s vocal contribution is curiously fascinating. Only in the seventies, and only in Europe, could “Knights in White Satin” have been born, so enjoy it for what it is. –Ben
Proteges of Pink Floyd, Tangerine Dream, and Klaus Schulze, The Far East Family Band released a handful of LPs back in the mid to late 70s before the group’s main synthesist/keyboardist, Kitaro, went onto a solo career and eventual international stardom as the doyen of new age music. Parallel World (their third release) is in fact a very good album from the 70s psych/prog/electronic sound nexus. The opening track “Metempsychosis” is pure cosmic Zen electonica, with its hypnotic, unobtrusive tribal drumming and whir of electronic effects. The sprawling epic title track (over 30 minutes in length) is like a stereo wet dream for space cadets: whoosing synthesizers, elegant mellotron, wordless chants, and some effective psychedelic guitar textures. In general, the whole album evokes quiet images that you might associate with being levitated or suspended in space. If you like Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, or even newby spacers like the Orb and Future Sound of London, you’ll like FEFB. —Hawklord
Join us this Saturday, April 20 for our annual Record Store Day sale: All records and CD’s will be 20% off!
Plus, receive this limited-edition, hand-screened poster FREE with your purchase (while supplies last)!
Thank you for supporting Jive Time and all of your local, independently-owned record stores on Record Store Day and every day. Brick and mortar (and vinyl) is alive and well in Seattle!
I’m not sure if Sweet Exorcist is the most underrated album of all time. I do know that it would make the short list for such a title. Popular opinion dictates that this record marked the moment when Curtis stopped making classics; but for my money, it’s actually his best album not named Superfly. Some of the rawest, hardest-hitting music I’ve ever heard is present here.
The album is bookended by “Ain’t Got Time” and “Make Me Believe in You,” two numbers which go hand-in-hand with each other. They exude urgent yet stripped-down funk, and do a perfect job opening and closing the album. Also cut from the same cloth: “To Be Invisible” and “Suffer,” a pair of powerful ballads.
These are incredible songs, as well as “Power to the People,” which is uplifting yet directly political in classic Mayfield fashion. There are two particular cuts on Sweet Exorcist, however, which are among the all-time greats. The first is the title track, which manages to be peaceful, packed with emotion and subtly badass all at once. The other: “Kung Fu,” the album’s big single. Sometimes written off as a gimmicky “me too” from the “Kung Fu Fighting” era, it’s actually one of the grittiest, rawest funk tracks ever recorded.
The production is uniformly excellent, albeit in a way far different from the lush arrangements of Curtis or Superfly. The closest comparison, stylistically, would be Roots’ key track “Underground.” If you’re like me and consider that one of Mayfield’s finest songs, Sweet Exorcist will resonate with you in a big way. —Sterling
Hugh Masekela is one of the more colorful characters in jazz and has done numerous things in the course of his career, some of which, especially his forays into pop music, have caused critics to sneer at him; however, when he entered a studio in London with fellow South Africans Dudu Phukwana and Makhaya Ntshoko and the Americans Larry Willis and Eddie Gomez in 1972, the result was an unqualified and an undisputed success.
Home Is Where the Music Is is a fusion album in the best sense of the word, because it fuses only the most successful elements to arrive at a whole that is much larger than its parts. Masekela and main composer/producer Caiphus Semenya draw from traditional South African music, American jazz, soul and funk with a dash of spiritual jazz, and thanks to an ensemble in which each musician is no less than outstanding, the result is a thouroughly engaging, deeply soulful album that captivates the listener from the very first moment.
Masekela is clearly at the top of his game here; the range of tonal colors that he produces on his flügelhorn is remarkable, his use of half-valve tones and slurs impressive; at times you almost expect the valves to pop out of the horn. Phukwana is no second; while probably not quite as quick-fingered, he is firmly in the groove, and when he digs in, you want to follow him down every inch.
The fusion movement may have produced numerous misguided albums, expressing confusion rather than fusion, but Home Is Where the Music Is is one of the best examples of the genre. —Brian
The genius of Zuma can really be be summed up by looking at the cover for a few seconds. A peice of shit? Politically incorrect? Wasted? Definetly. All that and more, but in a great way that’s truely representative of American attidude in art and the human spirit itself, which is “fuck it”. Throw finesse out the window, close your eyes, and floor it. Let your gut and your soul make every decision and only keep your brain around to hold the massive amounts of cocaine you’re giving it. This is the world ZUMA was birthed in. Neil was finally free from a sprawling divorce and the unwanted fame following him since Harvest. He was not going to approach any love songs like a well spoken folkie. Too pussy, too dishonest. To really say what he felt he had to do while giving the finger, even when the songs are overwhelmingly beautiful. Unreserved 70’s guitar rock at it’s classic best, but capturing a vibe in the open feeling and wasted irony that still sounds fresh next to The Replacements’ Let it Be or Guided by Voices’ Propeller. –Alex
