Jive Time Turntable

Miles Davis “Dark Magus” (1977)

Imagine this – on one shoulder sits Curtis Mayfield, with white wings, white robe, pointing Miles in the direction of Heaven, on the other sits Charlie Parker caked in darkness, promising Miles the sun, moon, anything he wants if he will give in to temptation only once more. Then it begins. Underground Davis, at this grey grisly juncture, cuts a reclusive figure, like someone who shuts the door as soon as the music stops, dealing with his own externally silent internally pounding vices and saviours. His band, long departed from days of inch wide ties and handmade leather shoes sound like they were dragged from ‘Live and Let Die’, those intoxicating rhythmic thrusts evocative of severed goat heads and glistening snakes, Michael Henderson hypnotising himself on his own heavy fingered, staccato bass lines, Davis appearing from behind a headstone to insert his conniving fills and then return to his organ to mediate to his darkness and light sponsors. Just think, anyone one of these guys could grab you just like that and you might never be the same again if you are lucky to return, Reggie Lucas and Pete Cosey’s guitar lines soundtrack to rainy November night terrors, Azar Lawrence’s tenor sax so stifling in tone you could pass out. Joking aside if it got any more nauseatingly bleak it would make ‘Bitches Brew’ sound like an episode of ‘The Brady Bunch’. —KildareJohn

The Move “Message From The Country” (1971)

The final album by the Move, Message From the Country, has a scattered feel, in terms of genre, but has seemingly perfect unity. The band shed bassist Rick Price, reducing it to the core trio of Roy Wood, Bev Bevan, and Jeff Lynne: the first lineup of the forthcoming Electric Light Orchestra. The band were rendered a studio-only act, and their newfound sense of freedom and willingness to experiment in the studio are readily apparent here, making this album also not unlike Sgt. Pepper, at least in essence. However, “The Move” was no longer their primary concern, as they were focusing more on making a bold artistic statement with the first ELO album- which was supposedly recorded at the same time. The result is The Move’s most ambitious and comedic record, simultaneously.

This album, quite simply, could have never been re-created onstage by this lineup. This is mostly because Roy Wood essentially would have had to be a band of musicians unto himself, due to his tendencies to overdub a wide variety of instruments. This problem plagued the initial lineup of ELO as a touring entity, but on record, it only helped, especially here. Without Rick Price, Wood even had to take up bass guitar duties. Veterans Ace Kefford and Rick Price were solid, but surprisingly, Roy Wood blows them away on this album. His bass playing is some of the most throbbing, pulsating, and mind-blowing of its time. Even Paul McCartney’s so-called “lead bass” couldn’t hold a candle to Wood’s playing on several of this album’s tracks, especially the chugging “Until Your Mama’s Gone”.

Interestingly, “The Move” and “The Electric Light Orchestra” were two distinct concepts, and though they were one in the same at this time, they sounded quite different. This album has a more rocky sound, featuring jazzy textures, brass, flutes, and Lynne’s honky tonk-ish electric piano. The first ELO album, on the other hand, focuses on stringed instruments, particularly Wood’s grinding take on the cello, with French and hunting horns by Bill Hunt, giving it a murky, almost medieval feel. There is little overlap, as this album has little to no strings, and that album has no brass or jazzy inclinations. This disparity points to the ultimate split between Wood and Lynne after one ELO album. Lynne wanted to use the orchestral approach, and Wood wanted to incorporate a jazzier, early rock & roll element, as he later did in his own group Wizzard. This immense gulf between the band’s two creative geniuses, however, is only obvious in hindsight, and this album is a celebration of their brief but rich partnership.

The song selection is a rich palette of varied genres, only hinted at in the band’s previous album Looking On . Rather than jamming extensively around a smaller set of compositions, the band sets out to make fascinating musical and lyrical vignettes in a relatively short time span per song. This leads to a fuller list of songs, and ultimately, even greater diversity, which is no doubt the basis of the White Album comparisons. The comedic doo wop of “Don’t Mess Me Up”, the riff-laden “Ella James”, the country-tinged Johnny Cash sendup “The Ben Crawly Steel Company” (another fine lead vocal outing for Bev “Bullfrog” Bevan), the alluringly Middle Eastern “It Wasn’t My Idea to Dance”, the goofy, McCartney-esque “My Marge” are all songs that rightfully shouldn’t be on the same record, yet somehow, feed off each other perfectly. The more serious progressive inclinations of Jeff Lynne’s songwriting, as heard on tracks like “Message From the Country”, “No Time”, “The Minister”, and “The Words of Aaron”, keep the album from straying too far into self-parody.

Simply put, this is an unusual album for The Move, and, in many ways, the polar opposite of the first Electric Light Orchestra album… yet it is the absolute perfect missing link between the two groups. It’s dense and experimental, yet loose and fun- definitely a rarity in prog rock, and serves as a testament to why these three brilliant musicians coming together was such a beautiful thing. —Tommy

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

Vinylcise!

Aerobicise. Nutricise. Jazzercise. Mousercise. Vinylcise! Spandex meets vinyl in this gallery of vintage exercise records featuring fad workouts, buff celebrities, fitness gurus, yogis, Muppets, the Governator, Body by Jake, and other absurdities, as our never-ending quest for the perfect body continues. Visit the Gallery›

The Comsat Angels “Sleep No More” (1981)

If Comsat Angel’s debut, Waiting For A Miracle, was a fractured summary of the British dark-punk, then Sleep No More featured a more unified, condensed and powerful sound, one based on tight performances, claustrophobic ambient atmosphere and acerbic grooves. The most successful numbers, the ones that focus in the atmospheric vortex of the keyboards (the short bursts of warping tension amidst a canvas of floating debris in “Sleep No More”, “Light Years”), the martial nightmare (“Dark Parade”, “Restless”), the rock punch of the post-punk band (“Eye Dance”, “Goat Of The West”), are enough to give you goosebumps. Theirs is a music that bridges post-punk, the Gregorian chant, a martial pace, psychedelia and sonic-layering. —ILY

Magma “Mekanïk Destruktïw Kommandöh” (1973)

Dear God, how epic can one album get?! The Kobaïan war marches are some of the most gloriously powerful music ever created. And Magma is a great name for the band, since the combination of Christian Vander’s phenomenal Drums and Jannick Top’s thunderous Bass is simply and biblically volcanic in it’s grandeur.

Mekanïk Destruktïw Kommandöh is the apex of French Progressive Rock band Magma’s career. And it is one of the most powerful Progressive Rock albums ever released due in no small part to the ferocious Drumming thunder of founder and bandleader Christian Vander. One of the things that really sets Magma apart from the run of other Progressive Rock bands is their sheer thematic greatness. Magma’s albums center around a mythology Vander himself created about a fictional dystopian future. and all of Magma’s songs and albums are sung in Kobian, a fictitious language created just for the Kobian mythology of the Magma albums. Mekanïk Destruktïw Kommandöh is the climax of the entire cycle of Kobian mythology and the pinnacle of Magma’s career. Mekanïk Destruktïw Kommandöh is simply one of the greatest albums of all time, period. —Karl

Fresh Fruit (for Rotting Vegetables)

What happens when Andy Warhol’s iconic banana from the Velvet Underground’s classic debut meets other classic (and some not-so-classic) album covers? In the words of Warhol, it’s an Exploding Fantastic Inevitable! Inspired by one of our early banana mash-ups featuring the Dead Kennedys debut, we call it Fresh Fruit (for Rotting Vegetables). Visit the gallery›

Bohannon “Stop and Go” (Dakar, 1973)

This album is pure and simple hard pulling, rhythmic funk that hits you over the head and electric kicks your aorta! The eight songs each hold on their own, weaved together intricately with the driving bass lines and thumping wa wa guitars that you might hear sampled by Dilla or even Large Professor.

The spirit of the album originates in a sense of the daily grind (the first track “Stop & Go”), penetrating that hustle with astounding resonance. Hamilton takes us to the grit of the streets in “The Pimp Walk” but raises the blaxploitation theme to an apotheosis of drum licked bluesy soul. And then shit gets flipped up. “Run it on Down Mr. DJ” is a bombastic proto-disco track that anticipates Bohannon’s signature style captivating the club music of the late 70’s and forever changing the game. Just after the boogie friendly joint, we get pushed into a crunching, funkified gospel number that sweats with a call to “Save their Souls.” It’s not enough. Hamilton grounds himself from the celestial realm into an earthly jazz croon to the mothers of this land in “Singing a Song for my Mother.” And how else to end such a powerful sonic reflection on the struggles, styles, and joys of life than a push towards “Happiness” that makes you realize that you’re not so jaded after all. A drum clap bass line holds down this anthem, and just wait for the booming vocals chant “happiness, everywhere / talkin’ ’bout happiness everywhere” to baloon this song into the heavens of the funk. —keskejecoute

Electric Light Orchestra “On The Third Day” (1973)

On The Third Day is the best representation of The Electric Light Orchestra’s Symphonic style of Progressive Rock that there is. ELO has never sounded better than this, not even on El Dorado, another highlight of their early, pre-pop discography. This album is an amazing piece of work notable for Jeff Lynne’s compositions, rough vocals and stinging harsh guitar lines which provide a stunningly great counterpoint to the gorgeous beauty of the rest of their music. A lot of what makes The Electric Light Orchestra so great is the wonderful understanding of the use of dynamics and light and shade that Jeff Lynne incorporates into their works. Another big part of this is the ruthless crushing power of underrrated Drummer Bev Bevan. This guy is a wildman! He is so powerful he’d fit in Led Zeppelin or Rush. As it is he totally bashes and overpowers his way though the gorgeous flowing baroque lightness of ELO’s music, providing yet another utterly devastating counterpoint within the music. It is the the beauty and loveliness of the strings and keys set against the ruthless barbarity of Bevan and Lynne that makes ELO so fantastic. —Karl

Jon Lucien “Rashida” (1973)

1973 was a good year for chilled out, soulful grooves. Along with Terry Callier’s masterpiece “What Color Is Love” we have Lucien’s best work “Rashida.” It could almost be a companion LP to Callier’s as it has a very similar vibe. It is a lushly produced collection of spaced out soul and folk that adds in elements of Latin music and a hint of Lucien’s Caribbean heritage. He has one of the best voices in music and its warmth gradually draws you deep into the record. Lucien never feels the need to show off or be flashy and he lets the strength of his lyrics do the work. Buy this and Callier and you will instantly improve your soul collection. –Jon

Herbie Mann “Stone Flute” (1970)

One of the pleasures of working in a record store are those quiet weekday afternoons when you can randomly throw on forgotten records in hopes of unearthing a buried gem. Stone Flute is one of those gems. It’s also a far cry from the middle-of-the-road soul-jazz I generally associate with the furry Mr. Mann. (For all it’s guilty, funky pleasure, this is no Push Push. It’s one of the few records Mann recorded for his own Embryo labe, best known for its moody, trippy jazz and jazz-rock, and Stone Flute is no exception.

Standout tracks are the spacious, Eastern-inspired Donovan cover “In Tangier,” and the jaw-droppingly beautiful version of the Beatles’ “Flying,” which somehow manages to be even trippier than the original without sounding dated. If that wasn’t enough, the experimental “Miss Free Spirit” features jazz gods, Sonny Sharrock, Roy Ayers and and a pre-Weather Report Miroslav Vitous in top form. The album features lengthy, spacious arrangements that are difficult to digest properly with a quick listen, give it a thorough spin and you’ll discover a totally unique Herbie Mann record and one that any fan of late sixties/early seventies jazz will likely enjoy. –David