Jive Time Turntable

Electronic “Electronic” (1991)

Formed as a one-off project, Electronic has since become more of an occasional sideline for both Bernard Sumner and Johnny Marr. Bought on the strength of the single “Get The Message” – one of the more potent tracks – this debut had a profound effect upon the future musical direction of my whole collection. Whilst not completely convinced by its value, I was enticed into dipping my toes in the music of both New Order and The Smiths – a dip that quickly became a soaking!

Proving that oil and water do mix, Electronic bring together the seemingly diverse genres of electronic dance music and indie guitar pop and concoct a highly original fusion. It may come across as dance music for the coffee table set – completely sanitized and respectable – but there’s something here that is irresistible. Sumner and Marr produce a sound so deceptively simple you wonder why everyone’s not out there doing it. —Ian

Black Sabbath “Mob Rules” (1981)

Replacing a lead singer is the kiss of death in Metal. As the new singer, you must be comfortable with the knowledge that no matter how hard you wail, how tight your pants are, how BAD-ASS you are, you will never be as good as the first guy. This was the harsh reality Ronnie James Dio stepped into when he joined Black Sabbath upon Ozzy Osbourne’s departure. Even though the band had been running on fumes for some time at the point Dio came on, Ozzy was still an iconic frontman, and the pressure of replacing him might have gotten to a lesser deity. Ronnie may have been a small guy, but he had the swagger and persistence of the Devil himself, and wasted no time proving it on “Heaven and Hell,” which was the band’s best-selling record in years, and it’s even-better follow-up, “Mob Rules”.

Dio changed the dynamic of the band completely, with a style as far removed from Ozzy’s as can be. His vocals were soaring and melodic – a far cry from the Oz-man’s base mono-syllabic chanting. “Mob Rules” also featured another significant line-up change, as it was the first without drummer Bill Ward, who had issues with Dio. I’m as big a Bill fan as they come, but listening to this record, it’s Vinny Appice who inarguably helps elevate things to the next level. Bill Ward’s primitive swing was one of the trademarks of the Sabbath sound, and his successor is wise enough not to toy with this foundation. Appice has the edge though when it comes to pure chops; he’s just got more tools in his box than Ward, and the added technical prowess opens up new dark corridors for the band. You get the feeling that Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler had been waiting to flex like this for awhile, and the inventiveness of the riffs and arrangements on this record reflect the re-newed hunger of a band reborn, while laying the groundwork for the more technical, anthemic groups that would come to epitomize Metal in the ’80’s and beyond. —Jon Treneff

Thunderclap Newman “Hollywood Dream” (1969)

A delightful album with a unique sound, a handful of all-time great songs, several more good ones, and a few filler-ish but quite listenable tunes. Pete Townshend was at the top of his game when he assembled this project, and it has elements of that transcendental, mid-fi “Who Came First” sound.

“Something In The Air” is rightly recognized as one of the classic singles of its era, but there are a couple that are even better: “Open The Door Homer” has a similarly great, wondrous vibe and is one of the best Dylan covers ever, and “Hollywood Dream” is one of the best three-minute pop-rock instrumentals. —iso4yl

The Blue Orchids “The Greatest Hit (Money Mountain)” (1982)

One of the more baffling oversights in the mad rampage to re-examine every last corridor of post-punk continues to be The Blue Orchids. Martin Bramah and Una Baines were founding members of The Fall, and early casualties of Mark E. Smith’s revolving-door policy. Upon their unceremonious sacking, they wasted no time putting together a new group and signing a deal with Rough Trade. There are undeniable echoes of their former band here – Una brings her trademark single-note, chinsy-keyboard melodies to the table, and Bramah has a dry, sung-spoken vocal delivery not entirely unlike that of M.E.S. From here, the Orchids struck out on their own, crafting a sound that retained some of the nervous energy and bite of The Fall while being an altogether more melodically evolved and cerebral affair.

Like The Clean and their New Zealand counterparts of the day, the Orchids were attempting to re-animate the corpse of psychedelia with a punk sensibility. While the notion seems almost quaint today, it was a fairly audacious move in the “death to hippies” climate of U.K punk. To wit, Bramah’s wry, deadpan vocals and chiming guitar lines manage to pick up on the post-Velvets art-school damage that Television and their more adventurous NYC contemporaries were forwarding. The Orchids were among the first of their scene to make a clear break with the tunnel-vision strictures of punk, with thinly-veiled drug references and honest-to-goodness “hooks”. While fellow travelers like The Soft Boys, Felt, and Josef K have all gradually re-entered the musical discussion, The Blue Orchids remain something of an “off-shoot band” footnote. All of “Money Mountain,” their debut full-length, is gripping and inventive, but one listen to “A Bad Education” should be enough to convince anyone that the Orchids were a unique entity unto themselves, and forerunners of an eccentric strain of slacker-jangle that persists in indie music to this day. —Jon Treneff

Re-examinin’ Jammin:
A Guide for the Reggae Reluctant

What is it about Reggae that inspires such polarized reactions? Scores of those who are otherwise musically well-versed and open-minded will register tangible expressions of apprehension when the irie sounds of Jamaica are mentioned. Reggae is a line in the sand for a lot of people, but I suspect that, as was the case for me, a lot of people have simply never had the right entry point – something beyond the ganja-huffing roommate who blasted Bob Marley’s “Legend” from dusk to dawn. Like the music of The Grateful Dead (read our guide), Reggae comes with a lot of baggage. Negative cultural associations abound, and the fact that at it’s root, it is a basically repetitive music sung in patois doesn’t exactly woo new listeners. Not to mention the sheer, daunting amount of recorded music out there.

In hopes of remedying this, we’ve put together a guide for the Reggae-wary. Contrary to simply being a list of “user-friendly” Reggae, these records all hopefully offer something slightly removed from the general expectations and stereotypes many of us have formed around Reggae music.

Gregory Isaacs Night Nurse (1982). Gregory is a good gateway for people who don’t technically have a problem with Bob Marley, but are soured by the over-saturation of his image/music in popular culture. Gregory “The Cool Ruler” was blessed with pipes every bit as strong and expressive as Marley’s, with a natural gift for melody, and a voice smooth and sweet enough to buff out the scratches on your Minibus. Mr. Isaacs was pre-occupied with the fairer sex as much as themes of roots and culture, so it’s not all ganja anthems and Hail Selassie (although there is some of that). Much of his material revolves around classic lover’s themes, the bedrock of all pop music, and a potential lifeline for those looking for a little tunefulness and romance with their Reggae.

Rhythm & Sound With The Artists (Compilation, 2003). Rhythm & Sound are Berliners who got their start in the ’90’s making minimal, dubby Techno under the quietly influential Basic Channel moniker. Their Rhythm & Sound project surgically removes the 4/4 spine from their productions, swapping it out for Reggae’s ubiquitous backbeat, and stripping the music down to it’s barest essentials, leaving only the slightest suggestion of Reggae’s pulsating undercurrent. With The Artists sees them voicing their tracks with Reggae legends like the Love Joys and Cornel Campbell, effectively forging a bridge from Reggae’s past to it’s potential future. The results are a spectral, midnight burial dub that sounds unlike anything else in the body of Reggae or Electronic music.

Keith Hudson Flesh Of My Skin: Blood Of My Blood (1975). One of the more interesting and idiosyncratic figures in the genre’s history, Hudson was a former dentist who became something of a Reggae renaissance man – producing, playing, and singing in numerous iterations. In 1974 he released Flesh Of My Skin, Blood Of My Blood – one of the first deliberately conceived “albums” (i.e., not a collection of singles, etc) in Reggae history, and a concept album to boot. Known as the “Dark Prince Of Reggae,” Hudson had a raspy, off-pitch delivery, which works perfectly with the spooky, fog-cloaked production of this otherworldly work that occasionally recalls what Dr. John’s “Gris-Gris” would have sounded like if he’d been Jamaican, not just Creole. A landmark album that still sounds way ahead of it’s time today.

Augustus Pablo East Of The River Nile (1977). In my experience, the music of Augustus Pablo has proven to be a soothing balm to the ear of many a Reggae-dissonant. Something about the sound of the melodica, Pablo’s trademark instrument, succeeds in enchanting the wary listener into blissful submission. The alien sound of the melodica (an instrument not often heard in Reggae, or music period) floats over the mix like vapor, carrying the intrigue of the unfamiliar while triggering a faint nostalgia for Morricone-soundtracked Westerns. Pablo is best-known for his late-seventies melodica records, but was also a multi-talented musician and producer, playing on barrels of classic sessions and continuing to produce innovative work through the ’90’s. Pressure Sounds recently released a selection of his digital-era recordings, which comes highly recommended to anyone looking to delve deeper into his maverick vision.

Dadawah Peace And Love (1974). Dadawah’s “Peace And Love” is the crowning achievement of one Ras Michael, an artist who has released numerous recordings under the latter handle. Michael concentrates on the nyabinghi strain of Reggae – traditional Rastafarian spiritual music, roughly equivalent to Mississippi hill country Blues in it’s rawness and purity of vision. The unique sound of the Dadawah record arises from a stripped-down rhythmic core of hand-drum and bass, eschewing the standard drum kit and rhythm-guitar backbeat of Reggae. When guitar does creep into the mix, it’s in the form of improvised, bluesy interjections, never settling on a fixed melody or pattern. The album consists of four slow-building, hazed-out songs, often running into the 10-12 minute mark – all of it soaking in a vat of reverb. A deeply expansive and singular record that will melt the mind of anyone into Psychedelia, Krautrock, Primitive Blues, or even Spiritual Jazz.

Further listening: UK producer/musician/mover and shaker, Adrian Sherwood has been instrumental in breaking down the musical, social, and cultural barriers that have traditionally made Reggae such an insular concern. He founded the On-U Sound label in the ’80’s, initiating a flurry of releases by acts that pushed the core sounds and concerns of Reggae into new tributaries and uncharted territory. Singers & Players was a collective (featuring revered names in Reggae like Prince Far-I and Bim Sherman) who successfully cut the traditional Reggae template with eclectic flourishes and innovative production techniques influenced by Electronica and Industrial music. Dub Syndicate, meanwhile, serves as Sherwood’s love-letter to the Dubbing tradition. While remaining essentially modern and explorative, it’s also the most openly reverent concern of the On-U stable. In terms of pure aural experience, African Head Charge is easily the most experimental and out-there of the lot – and the furthest from traditional Reggae. The project of percussionist Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah, AFC is a serious next-level stew that incorporates elements of everything from nyabinghi, psychedelia, and the sampladelic nature of musique-concrete to create one of the most compelling listening experiences a curious ear could hope for. These groups are just a cursory dip into the deep well of talent nurtured by On-U Sound over the years, exploding Reggae’s one-dimensional stereotypes into a thousand new possibilities.

Like every genre, Reggae is a near-bottomless pit once you’ve taken the leap, full of enough curiosities and permutations to keep one busy for a couple of lifetimes. The aforementioned are only a fraction of potential entry points. If you’re willing to cast aside your assumptions and approach it with an open mind, you may find something you didn’t know you were looking for, and be pleasantly surprised by what you find. —Jon Treneff

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

R2D2 meets Clockwork Orange


The Electrohome “Circa 711” stereo system. This is the turntable that greets each customer in our window as they enter, back to the future, at Jive Time Records!

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