Jive Time Turntable

Kate Bush “The Dreaming” (1982)

Here Kate Bush graduates from quirky teenage musical prodigy to full-fledged artiste. I think it speaks volumes about this strange and wonderful album that the lead-off single was the wonderfully un-commercial “Sat in Your Lap,” a heady stew of thundering Burundi drums, horn punctuations, and Kate wailing away like a madwoman on the nature of knowledge. EMI Records execs probably wet their pants when they heard it! In fact, I’m surprised this album got a major-label release at all, at least in this form!

Even the more “normal” songs on this release (“There Goes a Tenner,” the jaunty “Suspended in Gaffa,” the Celtic folk-lilting of “Night of the Swallow”) have a certain something that renders them deeply “odd.” Or perhaps its just the proximity of the other songs that’s colouring my perception: witness “Leave It Open” with its Chipmunk backing vocals or “Get Out of My House” with its angry ranting and donkey braying. This is almost Kate’s version of John Lennon / Plastic Ono Band, her own personal primal-scream therapy swathed in digital electronics as a sort of purging of her early precocious piano-maiden persona. This is the next step beyond Nina Hagen’s West German albums, and is one of the most eye-popping musical statements [of all-time]. A vital release. —Progbear

Tortoise “Standards” (2001)

On their fourth album, Chicago post-rock godheads Tortoise continue to drift away from the stark musical academia of their mid-90s work and into brighter, (dare I say?) groovier territory. You can’t quite dance to Standards, but you can certainly get a lot closer than with any of Tortoise’s previous works, thanks to the newfound focus on upbeat rhythms, cool basslines and immediate percussion. If TNT was Tortoise’s jazz album, then this would have to be their funk album, if such a thing is even possible. Between those two albums they’ve evolved down a very smart path, though, as attempting to recapture the minimalist beauty of their first two albums would’ve been awfully difficult. By developing in this manner, Tortoise retain all the fascinating intricacies that have made their previous albums a joy to deconstruct, while revitalizing their sound and pushing them into accessible, effortlessly listenable territory more so than ever before. —Tommo

Gilberto Gil & Jorge Ben “Ogum Xangô” (1975)

This has got to be one of the most engaging and enjoyable displays of totally unrestrained musicianship I’ve ever heard. Jorge and Gil’s chemistry is seamless, yet their vocal and instrumental skills remain distinct and identifiable. The album is a terrific, relaxed affair, and the songs have a continuously rolling, improvvy feel about them, driven by bouncy, rhythmic guitar lines that eventually loop into hypnotic grooves and some extremely dynamic dual vocals, all of which remains surprisingly tight throughout. Jorge might take the lead on one song, Gil playfully trailing his vocals and throwing in some little guitar-tricks for embellishment, only to have the baton passed across, the two switching roles in a manner that’s quite selfless and democratic. The decision to record Gil primarily in one channel and Jorge in the other (perhaps just on the remaster?) was a stroke of genius, as it provides a slight buffer between the two which allows each of their contributions to be heard without any obfuscation, not to mention that it makes listening to Ogum Xangô on headphones feel a lot like you’re sitting in the middle of one of the most productive jam sessions of all time. The talent on display here is simply incredible. —Tommo

Magic Carpet “Magic Carpet” (1972)

Mindblowing UK raga-psych that has all the right moves: Warm, stoned and fuzzy guitars, gentle tabla, soft acoustic passages, blissed-out sitar lines and simply wonderful female vocals. I cannot overstate how full-on psych this record is. From the opening lines of “The Phoenix” to the fade out of the final ‘trance’ raga, this one is a synapse burner. Totally far out, and gorgeous, too. Track it down if you are even remotely interested in Eastern folkpsych, you’ll be thrilled with it. —Chad

Fugazi “Fugazi” (1988)

Including members of DC-hardcore originators Minor Threat and Rites of Spring, Fugazi achieve an inspired blend of punk fury, hard rock riffs, and deft instrumental interplay coupled to righteous lyrical content on this, their seven song debut EP. The songs’ big, chant-along choruses (see fan favorite “Waiting Room”) are infectious, the bobbing rhythms of bassist Joe Lally and drummer Brendan Canty pointed and propulsive, while providing a fluid center around which guitarist Ian MacKaye unleashes razor sharp scrapes and howls from his SG. On this release, MacKaye swaps vocals with Guy Picciotto (not yet playing guitar), giving the band two distinctly different yet equally passionate frontmen. Favorites here include the aforementioned “Waiting Room,” reggae inspired “Suggestion,” and driving “Bulldog Front.” —Ben

Aztec Camera “High Land, Hard Rain” (1983)

Along with the Finn Brothers from Australia and his Southerly neighbors Morissey and Marr, scottsman Roddy Frame was one of the lodestars of the 80s generation of British Empire popsmiths. sadly, in my mind, his Aztec Camera has never achieved the recognition and praise that propelled Crowded House and the Smiths to the pop stratosphere. In temperament, Frame is much closer to the Brothers Finn than Morissey/Marr–in fact, his boyish wonder, only occasionally leavened by nostalgia or regret, makes for a sort of anti-Morissey. If the Smiths provide sweet melodies only to make the medicine go down, Aztec Camera, like Crowded House, is almost pure saccharine. while it may not be as nourishing or effective as the real meds, it never fails to leave you with a smile on your face and an acute longing for more.

Although “High Land, Hard Rain” doesn’t feature my favourite Frame tune (“Birth of the True”, off of “Knife”, the generally-inferior sophomore effort), it is easily the most consistent and exuberant Aztec Camera release. “Oblivious”, “Pillar to Post” and “Down the Dip” are all terribly addictive pop anthems, while “Release”, “The Boy Wonders” and several other tracks admirably incorporate jazz guitar parts to support the power chords. All in all, this could almost serve as an optimist’s riposte to ‘The Queen is Dead’ (though several years in advance). Sadly, Frame and the Aztecs would never sound this fresh again. —Jeremy

Pretty Things “Parachute” (1970)

While Parachute is less innovative than its predecessor, SF. Sorrow, it shows the Pretty Things at their most mature, lyrically and musically. It begins with a medley that stretches through the majority of side one, one that vaguely resembles the one on The Beatles’ Abbey Road. While it doesn’t reach the cathartic heights of that medley’s finale, it’s melodically stronger than it’s counterpart.

The noisy Scene One is a discomforting opener, with wild drumming that establishes a manic atmosphere. But then it goes away, and you get the peaceful beauty of The Good Mr. Square, which immediately makes it clear that the Pretty Things have improved melodically since their last album, and almost all of these songs boast strong melodies and breathtaking harmonies. Even better yet, they spin that melody into a lovely gospel song in She Was Tall, She Was High, and it’s interesting to see how, in the space of a minute in a half, the song builds up and falls with its soaring chorus Then we get the gorgeous in the Square, with a melody so great, that Radiohead decided to rip it off for Paranoid Android. The song also starts introduce the dichotomy of the city and the country that’s such a prominent theme in this album. Then we get a terrific rocker in the form of Miss Fay Regrets, with it’s fantastic riff, and almost schizophrenic lyrics, and Grass, one of the album’s highlights, with its brooding piano line, and it’s lovely rising melody. The song sounds like a less self-indulgent Pink Floyd with similar production values, only, not only does it predate that classic sound, it actually exceeds it, achieving it’s lovely atmosphere without the use of any of the sound effects Pink Floyd cherished.

As the album hurtles towards its end, we get She’s a Lover, another fantastic rocker, with its Phil May’s lovely falsetto chorus and surprising middle 8 After that, we get What’s the Use, which stuffs three different songs into less than two minutes. It’s a little confusing, and I sorta wish the three parts could’ve been developed more, because they’re all strong, but that’s all made up for with the title track, which is gorgeous beyond words, and features some of the best harmonies this side of the Beach Boys. And that build up, when the drums and piano join the guitar, has to be the most cathartic moment on a Pretty Things record. The best part, is that rising synthesizer near the end, it just keeps soaring up and up and is almost overwhelming, and then the song stops. It’s a great and daring ending for an album, and is just another display of the bands great mastery of atmosphere. This is a fantastic album! —Foxtrot

Jerry Harrison “The Red and the Black” (1981)

This album provides irrefutable proof of Jerry Harrison’s contribution to arguably Talking Heads finest moment; ‘Remain in Light’ …1980-81 was a creatively productive time for ‘Head’s front-man David Byrne and his partner-in-experimentation, producer Brian Eno – the pair famously teamed up to make ground-breaking album ‘My Life in the Bush of Ghosts’ in 1980 (it wasn’t released until 1981 however) before enlisting the rest of the ‘Heads to enact their Afro-funk blueprint for the release of ‘Remain in Light’ later that year. As 1981 rolled around, Byrne went off to record his first solo effort, ‘the Catherine Wheel’, which mined similar ground covered on ‘My Life in the Bush of Ghosts’ and ‘Remain In Light’ with excellent results – both Eno and Harrison were recruited for assistance on some tracks for Byrne’s album.

The busy arrangements and psychedelic flourishes on Jerry Harrison’s first solo effort show that he was in-synch with this progressive-funk vibe, and spotlight the talents of the most overlooked member of the celebrated New York quartet. Jerry Harrison’s effort tends to adopt a more melodic sensibility than any of the other three Talking Heads-related releases from that ’80-’81 period mentioned earlier – the backing singers are given free reign and the results echo and equal the layered-vocal cleverness present on ‘Remain in Light’ – also, Harrison’s own keyboard talents are more obvious here than his often-subtle contributions with Talking Heads; ‘the New Adventure’ revolves around Harrison’s sinewy, convoluted synthesizer melody, ‘Worlds in Collision’ is soaked in dramatic, shimmering keyboard washes before breaking into a highly-funky clav riff which somehow manages to sound both progressive and retro. ‘the Red Nights’ is more ambient than anything Talking Heads ever attempted, a lush instrumental soundscape where Harrison’s own playing and melodic-leanings are once again brought to the fore.

Overall this is easily the most interesting of Jerry Harrison’s 3 albums. By virtue of it’s release date and his association with Talking Heads, it’s hard to avoid comparing the results of ‘The Red and the Black’ with those of ‘Remain in Light’, ‘My Life in the Bush of Ghosts’ or ‘the Catherine Wheel’. And whilst it never quite attains the transcendent power that those albums achieved, there are moments on ‘the Red and the Black’ every bit as compelling as anything on the aforementioned trinity. —Denny

Project Thirty-Three Tees and Hoodies

Project Thirty-Three Tees and Hoodies have arrived! This design was inspired by the circles and dots so prevalent on the album covers featured on our popular blog, Project Thirty-Three. The site showcases our collection of mid-century record sleeves featuring only simple shapes and typography and the brilliant designers that made these objects come to life.

Black and white prints available on over twenty colors. Choose from men and woman’s American Apparel Tees, long-sleeved shirts, hoodies, kid’s wear, and more! Visit the store›

Chicken Shack “40 Blue Fingers, Freshly Packed and Ready to Serve” (1968)

Formed in 1967, Chicken Shack consisted of Stan Webb on guitar and vocals, Andy Sylvester on bass, Christine Perfect (later known as Christine McVie, as a part of the great Fleetwood Mac), on vocals and keyboards, and Alan Morley on drums.

“40 Blue Fingers” is an excellent example of the booming late 60’s blues scene in & around London. With John Mayall & Alexis Korner creating benchmarks for the British blues scene, Chicken Shack were absolutely in the right place at the right time. Stan Webb is another under-rated guitarist of the late 60’s British Blues Scene along the lines of Paul Kossoff (Free). Christine McVie is a Goddess featuring a very powerful, soul-driven voice that’s very clearly influenced by the great John Mayall.

Chicken Shack made their public debut at the Great Britain’s National Blues & Jazz Festival at Windsor along with Fleetwood Mac on August 13, 1967. “There were two stages at Windsor, the main one an open-air ramshackle structure, the other inside a marquee. Fleetwood Mac had their initiation on the main stage but much was made of Chicken Shack’s tented debut.” All said and done, Christine McVie’s performance and Stan Webb’s charismatic guitar playing make this album a worthy buy. —Warchild786

Eberhard Weber “The Colours of Chloë” (1974)

In the documentary Jazz by Ken Burns, Wynton Marsalis says that Jazz Fusion was a dead end, so Burns, ever a dupe of authority, leaves most of the great work of the 1970’s out of the documentary as if it never existed.

He and Ken Burns ought to have listened to this great album, a work of subtly, grace, and ethereal moods, using not just jazz instruments, but a complete range of orchestral colors. A masterpiece of style, and a template for the ECM sound as well, a place where jazz’s best attributes, technique, melodic playing, experimental strides, and lack of cliche, moved Jazz in a truly new direction. —Mark

Robert Wyatt “Rock Bottom” (1974)

The strange and beautiful Rock Bottom has a remarkable story to tell reflected in its melancholy magic. It epitomizes the saying “every cloud has a silver lining” as, in the face of devastating adversity, the resilient Robert Wyatt finds a way to turn personal tragedy into universal triumph. No longer able to sit behind a drumkit [after a paralyzing accident] he uses the keyboard to realize a set of compositions he’d previously developed for his band. Wyatt had already displayed a weird originality on his first solo album End Of An Ear and here he reveals it once again in a completely new direction forced upon him by dire circumstances.

The whole album rests on a small number of simple ideas that might have been approached in a variety of ways but are expanded into fascinating keyboard excursions of ethereal beauty. The shimmering sound Wyatt refers to in his liner notes serves as a backdrop for guest musicians as eminent as Hugh Hopper, Mike Oldfield, Fred Frith and Richard Sinclair. The first two numbers, Sea Song and A Last Straw, are delicate dreamscapes but the lyrics are more poignant than could ever have been imagined. Wyatt sings it straight but can’t resist launching into his unique scat style (imitation of a trumpet) when he runs out of words, a style that helped set him apart from his contemporaries. The drone like quality of the music drifts slowly through the chord changes leaving plenty of space for touches of piano, bass and drums. Wyatt also plays slide guitar on A Last Straw showing what a natural musician he is. On Little Red Riding Hood Hit The Road the tempo picks up a little but without losing its intimacy, the chords run through majors and minors touching at crucial moments on the all-important 7th. Trumpets left and right play short bursts repeatedly, creating, along with the sustained keyboard, a canvas alive with bright colors. At times different parts of the mix go into reverse, the drums, the trumpets and even the vocals, confusing its circular chord sequence delightfully. Add to this the wonderfully comic lyric and Ivor Cutler’s absurd recital and it all amounts to the centerpiece of the album.

Every bit as eccentric as End Of An Ear but profoundly beautiful rather than a silly indulgence, Rock Bottom is Wyatt’s crowning achievement. —Robert