Jive Time Turntable

Santana “Welcome” (1973)

Welcome stands between two popular Santana LPs, Caravanserei and Borboletta, and it’s perhaps the most underrated Santana album. Like the previous LP, Welcome has a recording sound which can easily match today’s standards. This band had it all. The album opens with an instrumental meditation dominated by Alice Coltrane’s organ sound. The first highlight is Samba de Sausalito with a marvelous undercurrent of percussion and a good e-piano solo by Tom Coster. The next song, When I Look Into Your Eyes is a light Pop tune greatly upvalued by Joe Farrell’s lovely flute solo and the band’s accompaniment and the adventurous production: Leon Thomas uses his yodel as a sound effect and Richard Kermode comes in with a super-funky keyboard riff on which the song fades out. Next is one of my all-time Santana favorites, Yours Is The Light featuring Flora Purim, a Brazilian rhythm, Leon Thomas’ whistling and a very disciplined yet inspired solo by Carlos himself. Side Two starts with another great instrumental, Mother Africa recalling Earth, Wind & Fire’s Head To The Sky from the same year, Coltrane (Jules Brussard’s soprano solo) and McCoy Tyner. Light Of Life evokes the atmosphere of Gato Barbieri’s soundtrack, Last Tango In Paris. And now, the most ambitious instrumental piece on the set, Flame-Sky introducing John McLaughlin. In the face of this guitar giant, however, Carlos does not shy away, he opens with a typical yet inspired solo; the band shows they hold up to any challenge and finally, the Mahavishnu does what he does so well until they duet. The title song closes the circle of this marvelous LP in a quiet way with a meditation. A fantastic LP from beginning to end. The sound engineer can’t be praised too high. Welcome sounds as good today as it sounded back then, a musical adventure and one of the best Rock albums of the 70s. –Yofriend

Ry Cooder “Chicken Skin Music” (1976)

This largely acoustic set composed entirely of covers is an interesting offering from Mr Cooder and various buddies. It looks like he wanted to collaborate with musicians specializing in traditional styles of popular music. The fact that he chooses to record two songs by Leadbelly, himself one of America’s great folk musicians, reinforces this notion. The hybrid “Always Lift Him Up/Kanaka Wai Wai” brings together a wonderfully positive gospel-sounding song from West Virginia and guitar music from Hawaii. “He’ll Have to Go” features some lovely “Tex-Mex” style accordion playing that almost gives the song a french flavor. There is some sensuous Polynesian music in “Yellow Roses” and “Chloe”. It’s a clever album by someone who obviously has a deep love for and great knowledge of popular music. The singing sometimes lets the quality down a little, but the musicianship, arrangements and production are almost faultless. For sheer listening pleasure this one is hard to beat. –Jim

Robin Trower “Bridge of Sighs” (1974)

Post-Hendrix bluesy power trios have a tendency to put competency over inspiration, attempting to match Hendrix’s technique without considering his tunefulness or his essential emphasis on feel. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination or style to put out a solid blues-rock album so long as you learn your instrument and learn it well. But once in a while this form finds some unique angle to exploit. Bridge of Sighs is a case in point. Former Procol Harum guitar whiz Trower uses a bank of effects pedals to produce a swirling, oceanic sound with sustain that hangs in the air for hours: lithe and surprisingly light of touch for the music’s intensity, his style on this album should have guitarheads frothing at the mouth. Singer/bassist James Dewar is no slouch, either, sounding rather like Paul Rodgers in a lower register, and anchoring Trower’s waves of sound firmly in the blues. The title track is a wonderful, atmospheric dirge-like thing, and closer “Little Bit of Sympathy” is another standout. It’s a stylish and well produced album, Trower is a pretty amazing guitar player with a strong sense of melody and an uncanny ability to do a lot with few notes, and those whose appetite for good guitar albums is never sated should definitely pick this up. –Will

James Gang “Rides Again” (1970)

Rides Again is an interesting album. It comes at the dawn of hard rock following on the heels of the psychedelic blues rock revolution. The album itself is half hard rock, where the influence of Zeppelin can be heard, and half something else, more akin to CSN or Neil Young. The album opens in fine form with the classic blues hook, “Funk #49.” “Woman” is another great hard-rocker, followed by the experimental suite “The Bomber” containing a neat interpretation of Ravel’s “Bolero.” The second side starts off quietly. “Tend my Garden” has some of the harmonies associated with CSN. This song fades into “Garden Gate,” an acoustic piece which finds Joe Walsh asking questions. “There I Go Again” is an annoyingly catchy song which features some great pedal steel guitar from guest Rusty Young. “Ashes the Rain and I” closes the album in thoughtful, almost sad, fashion. Dale Peters plays six string on this one and orchestration is added by Jack Nitzsche. It seemed to be de rigueur for US artists of the time to have Nitzsche orchestrate something for them…still it’s tastefully done. The material on this album is very varied, surprisingly hard and, at times, surprisingly progressive. –Jim

Judee Sill “Heart Food” (1973)

I’ve heard Joni Mitchell, and I’ve heard Laura Nyro, and without wanting to denigrate either of those fine artists, I think Judee Sill’s better than either of them. Actually, that’s not quite fair; Sill reminds me more of Brian Wilson and his “teenage symphonies to God” than either Mitchell or Nyro. Like Wilson, there’s a sense of childlike wonder to Judee; like Wilson, both talk a lot about God (and, in Sill’s case, Jesus) without being explicitly Christian; instead God is used as a name for the Other, the Muse. And, like Wilson, Sill fuses all sorts of musics — pop, soul, doo-wop, folk, “cosmic cowboy music” similar to Gene Clark’s — with an elaborate sense of orchestration to come up with something completely open, gorgeously sunny, wistfully dark and totally sensuous. In his liner notes to the CD reissue, XTC’s Andy Partridge talks about the “velvet milk” of this record, and that’s a perfect description of its plushness (but not lushness). Anyone who could hear “The Donor” and not acclaim its composer as a pop genius doesn’t deserve a record player. You can, charitably, see why it didn’t sell in 1973: just too damn individual and demanding a listen. Then again, Pet Sounds didn’t sell either. –Brad

Led Zeppelin “Led Zeppelin III” (1970)

I always gauge a professed Led Zep fan by their attitude to this record. If they say they find it weak, boring, soft, folky, then you pretty much say they’re fairweather friends who just want the hammer to drop, and would be much more at home with Black Sabbath or Uriah Heep. Fact is, Led Zep’s folk (and world music) inclinations weren’t some sort of add-on bonus; folk is at the heart of what the band is all about. Just listen to the first two records, which boast “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You”, “Black Mountain Side” (a straight retread of Bert Jansch’s “Black Waterside”), “Ramble On”, “Thank You”, “Your Time Is Gonna Come” and even “What Is And What Should Never Be”. In each of these songs, Celtic folk is a crucial element. Essential to Zeppelin, too, is the sense of mystery that comes from the folk tradition, the sense of the past in the present, that the otherworld (whether it be the supernatural or the Christian tradition) is just around the corner — what Bob Dylan once summed up affectionately as “songs about death and vegetables”. (And I’m reminded it was Dylan who informed us that “mystery is a fact”.)
So. Led Zeppelin III. Written and recorded, not in a frenzy of activity, as the first two albums had been, but in a more relaxed frame of mind, with Plant and Page actually decamping to Bron-Y-Aur, a small cottage in rural Wales, to write together. No wonder, then, that this is a mellower album than its predecessors. Not that you’d know it when you drop the needle on the record. “Immigrant Song” explodes into being, with Plant’s wail initiating us into the new world. The first two albums had begun with songs about sex; this one is about a mythical past, with Plant taking on the persona of a Viking warrior, ready to meet his companions in Valhalla (that is, in death). All hitched to one of the most brutal riffs this side of “Black Dog”. And then it’s over. Can it really be only two minutes’ long? It feels like we’ve glimpsed an entire world in that time.

Sometimes seen as just that record between the hard rock milestones of II and the self titled fourth album, it’s much more than that. In a way, it’s the culmination of the journey undertaken on the first two records, as well as the beginning of a new one that will last for the rest of the band’s career. Put simply, all the branches Zep will follow from now on can be traced to the seeds laid on III, whether it’s the orchestral majesty of “Kashmir” (with its template of “Friends”), the medieval tone to “No Quarter” or “The Battle Of Evermore”, or the slow burners of “Stairway” or “In My Time Of Dying”. Idiot American reviewers sometimes claim that with this album Zep were trying to jump on the Crosby, Stills & Nash soft rock bandwagon, yet a quick look at the English scene of 1969-70 shows that Zeppelin’s influences were Pentangle, Fairport Convention (compare III with Liege And Lief) and even Nick Drake. Actually, “influences” may be the wrong word; like any great band Zeppelin simply tied into the zeitgeist of the times, and discovered that its strains ran deep in its own DNA. –Brad

The Kinks “The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society” (1968)

This album still grows on me every time I listen to it! In the title track the Kinks sing ‘God save Donald Duck, Vaudeville and Variety’ and in this collection they do their best to immortalise all kinds of things. If all the world’s music except for this album were suddenly to disappear the Kinks would single-handedly have preserved some simple but catchy pop tunes (“Johnny Thunder” and “Animal Farm”), Vaudeville (in the form of “Sitting By The Riverside”) and Music Hall (“All Of My Friends Were There”) as well as the Village Green. Quite an achievement. But they don’t stop there. They capture the sound of The Grateful Dead and Dylan on “Last Of The Steam-Powered Trains” and is that Hendrix I hear in “Big Sky”? Then there’s the darkly psychedelic “Wicked Annabella” and the latin “Monica”. They do their own take on the “Under My Thumb” Rolling Stones theme in “Starstruck” and the ridiculous in “Phenomenal Cat” (who sounds as if he’s all set to eat the equally ridiculous Donald D). Is there no end to their conserving? “Picture Book” and “People Take Pictures Of Each Other” make sure that our nearest and dearest aren’t forgotten. Rest assured – we’re in safe hands. Taken on their own, many of the songs are rather simple. But put together I believe they amount to an artistic masterpiece – a preserved musical and poetic patchwork of past and present, itself reflecting the patchwork of the countryside that is home to many a village green. –Jim

Donovan “Barabajagal” (1969)

This is the album to play for any of your friends who insist that Donovan just doesn’t rock. The Jeff Beck Group pop in to kick the crap out of the title track, while “Superlungs” also shakes the foundations. (OK, I’m not pretending Deep Purple or Black Sabbath would be shaking in their boots. But heavy they are, my friend.) Elsewhere Don goes “Hey Jude” one better with “Atlantis” by going from spoken introduction to ecstatic freakout, omitting any actual song. “To Susan On The West Coast Waiting” is one of the best anti-war songs in a period not noticeably lacking in anti-war songs, and one of the few that actually expresses empathy for the soldiers doing the fighting. Elsewhere you have the lusty delights of “Pamela Jo” and “Trudi”. And if there’s also a piece of psychedelic silliness called “I Love My Shirt”, well, what did you expect? This is Donovan, remember. A remarkably satisfying listen that still sounds great, if a little short (about 32 minutes in total). –Brad

Roger McGuinn “Cardiff Rose” (1976)

McGuinn wasn’t the most talented songwriter in the Byrds (that was Gene Clark) or the most innovative (that was Chris Hillman), but he was probably the most solid musician and definitely the classiest vocalist. On this album, though, he’s working at peak form and the end result is a minor classic. He’s backed by Dylan’s Rolling Thunder band (here called Guam) and producer-guitarist Mick Ronson, who throws a handful of gravel into McGuinn’s sometimes too-sweet sound. There’s also a strong focus and consistency that his often too diverse other albums lack. The original material — “Take Me Away”, especially — is fine, but the high points are songs by Rolling Thunder collaborators Dylan and Joni Mitchell, both unreleased at the time (and for years after). Of course it wouldn’t be a McGuinn album without a traditional song, and he turns in a lovely, chilling performance on the old ballad “Pretty Polly”. His best post-Byrds work? Almost certainly. –Brad

Syd Barrett “The Madcap Laughs” (1970)

I have no idea what Syd Barrett’s mental state was like when he recorded this album (going on what I’ve read, though, it obviously wasn’t good), but we should emphasise this doesn’t sound like music from a man who was sick. It’s confident, playful (if also darker and more serious than his Floyd material), whimsical and open. It’s also not very “psychedelic”, in the sense that Piper was; the music, pared back to its core, reminds me more of, say, post-Cale Velvets than the Floyd. It’s an album with its own, defiantly personal way of doing things; it’s something you’ve never heard before, totally individual, and there’s no meeting it halfway — you either open your heart to it, or you don’t. Myself, I love it to pieces. –Brad

McCoy Tyner “The Real McCoy” (1967)

Yes! Here we have the album that lifts Tyner out of the shadow of Coltrane and propels him to deity status in jazz. A formidable pianist with a unique style Tyner was the defining muscular pianist whose hard aggressive block right hand chords and subtle left hand work made him eay to recognise and even easier to admire. With this album he simply explodes in every sense. His playing has never been bettered and it seems that all shackles are off. What also stands out is the stunning maturity of his compostion. This has the best opening of any jazz album with the romping Passion Dance and the perfectly titled Contemplation. Ron Carter has never sounded better either and Jones has a telepathic understanding with Tyner as is to be expected after so many years together. This would be in my ten jazz albums as a collection starter for any new or aspiring jazz fan. –Jon

Jerry Garcia “Garcia” (1972)

While the Grateful Dead don’t play on Garcia’s first solo album — it’s Jerry on everything except drums, which Bill Kreutzmann plays — you can, fairly, call this a Dead album in disguise. Not only did the six songs on the record all enter the band’s repertoire, most of them becoming mainstays, but the music very much inhabits the same sound world as Workingman’s Dead or American Beauty. Imagining those songs with, say, Bob Weir’s “Playing in the Band” and a Pigpen tune or two is enough to make you mourn the Great Dead Album That Wasn’t. Still, never mind; this is far and away Garcia’s best solo record, and even with the creepy sound experiments that fill out the second side — which I happen to like but clash somewhat — this just misses the full five stars. Apparently it’s Cher’s favourite album ever! –Brad