Friday, May 27, 2016
All The Roadrunning was recorded in bits and pieces over the course of seven years, and includes ten new Knopfler tracks plus two Emmylou contributed. His music has fit into the country slot since before the last Dire Straits album, but it’s been decades since he last wrote a truly catchy melody. And as wonderful as she is, their voices simply don’t always blend. When they do, it works fine. “Beachcombing” opens the set with some promise, before the same sleepy tempo takes over on “I Dug Up A Diamond”. “This Is Us” captures an old married couple looking through old photographs, and is just plain charming. “Red Staggerwing”, which follows, is loaded with hackneyed clichés, and is not charming at all. “Rollin’ On” does just that, before her own “Love And Happiness” shows him how it’s done.
She dominates “Right Now”, capturing the literal and metaphorical feeling of a stranded marriage, but “Donkey Town” mines the same territory for too long, baby, too long. “Belle Starr” is fairly standard, as is “Beyond My Wildest Dreams”, but it’s better. The title track doesn’t do much, but “If This Is Goodbye” does have a stirring blend, even without knowledge of the inspiration (spoiler: cell phone calls on 9/11).
Because the album’s not pointedly bad, it’s still worth the listen, but don’t be surprised if it doesn’t sink in. A slightly better option is Real Live Roadrunning a CD/DVD combo recorded at the end of their joint month-long tour. The live setting inserts a little more punch into the proceedings, and each singer contributes a few songs from their own catalogs. Emmylou’s “Red Dirt Girl” gets applause of recognition, while strangely one of her signature songs, “Boulder To Birmingham”, does not. (They go nuts for “So Far Away”.) She escalates “All That Matters” and “Why Worry”, but doesn’t appear on “Romeo And Juliet”, stretched here to nine minutes.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
To begin with, “Trailer” was one of the catalysts that led to the Southern Accents album before he let it go the way of psychedelics and horn sections. It did make it out as a B-side, and was included on the Playback box; 31 years later it’s gained an extra verse, but it’s still the same song, and a good one. “Dreams Of Flying” is classic Heartbreakers except that Randall Marsh doesn’t play fills either. Is that a backwards solo at the end? Slow and mysterious, “Beautiful Blue” gets gentle slide guitar touches and even a nice piano solo during one of the breaks. Something of an unspoken rule is broken by following it with a similar title. At this late date, a band on a major label should also never open a song with “woke up this morning”, but that’s why most bands don’t let the drummer write songs. That lyric aside, “Beautiful World” is undeniably catchy. Tom comes back to sing “I Forgive It All”, one of the prettiest, softest songs he’s done in a while.
The second half of the album alternates between songwriters, and some tracks even segue. Tom Leadon offers up “The Other Side Of The Mountain”, a near-hoedown, with rough harmonies and banjo from bluegrass legend Herb Pedersen. For a switch, “Hope” is a snotty garage rock song, complete with cheesy organ and fuzz guitar. Benmont contributes “Welcome To Hell”, which seesaws between barrelhouse piano and a mildly psychedelic bridge. “Save Your Water” is kinda wordy for Tom, attached to a very Byrdsy backing. Mike Campbell has sung lead on only one album, and now he’s got another in “Victim Of Circumstance”; once again, it might as well be a Petty tune. After an atmospheric transition, “Hungry No More” is the other big number, stretched to over six minutes, but with good harmonies (Herb Pedersen again) and a killer Campbell solo.
2 sounds much more planned than the first Mudcrutch album, and it’s better. It’s also shorter, which helps. Mostly it’s great to hear Petty write and sing breezy songs again.
Mudcrutch 2 (2016)—3½
Friday, May 20, 2016
In a way—and this is a stretch—Metal Machine Music did expand upon some aspects of the Velvet Underground legacy, but those who’d followed Lou since before Transformer also knew him to be a sentimental fool, heavily influenced by doo-wop and Dion and the Belmonts. This was more apparent on Coney Island Baby, an odd collection of softer songs with flashes of sleaze. Acoustic guitars and backing vocals abound, with clean leads darting here and there.
Right off the bat he’s got a “Crazy Feeling”, which can only be love. Granted, the object of his affection has just walked into a bar pursued by “suit-and-tie johns”, but hey, the heart wants what it wants. (Note the “queen, such a queen” aside, undoubtedly a nod to Bowie’s “Queen Bitch”, itself a Reed homage.) On the surface, “Charley’s Girl” seems right out of the girl group era, but the cowbell places it square in the ‘70s, and “you gotta watch out” for her because she’s a narc. “She’s My Best Friend” was left over from the latter days of the Velvets, and is better musically than it is lyrically. Then we get to “Kicks”, something of a structural sequel to “The Gift” or “Sister Ray” in that it’s a two-chord jam, over which Lou talks about seducing and murdering the unexpecting, while two different party conversations go on behind, occasionally bursting through the mix.
Here’s another juxtaposition: unlike the similar title of one song and chords borrowed from “Satellite Of Love”, now Lou would have us believe he’s “A Gift” “to the women of this world” while background singers whisper and coo. The liner notes would have us he’s playing the pounding piano on “Ooohhh Baby”, which dominates over the lyrics about the usual downtown characters. “Nobody’s Business” begins with the rolling percussion from “Ocean” and a guitar part borrowed from “The Bed”, but turns into just another bluesy shuffle. The highlight is still the title track, a doo-wop influenced look back at his teenage years, complete with a dedication to his old school and someone named Rachel. Even that raised eyebrows — did he really want to “play football for the coach”? Over six minutes there is only the occasional deviation from the two-chord strum. After talking of impressing said coach, he finds a melody to illustrate being “all alone and lonely”, then a minor chord comes in when remembering “the princess who lived on the hill, who loved you even though she knew you was wrong” and hope that “the glory of love might see you through”. The “two-bit friends” are part of the soup too, but despite what they say, his delivery on throughout the song and especially the closing tag suggest that he just might be a human being.
Despite the similarities, Coney Island Baby manages to be an improvement on Sally Can’t Dance, simply because it seems more natural. Of course, what seems natural for Lou on one album will only be wiped away by his opinion on the next.
This is also one of the few Lou albums to be expanded in this century. The so-called 30th Anniversary Deluxe Edition added six tracks: including two previously released outtakes, a contemporary B-side, and three alternates. “Crazy Feeling” is a little snappier, with no bells; “She’s My Best Friend” is twice as loud and twice as fast. The rejected take of the title track has a little more bite, with (we’re guessing) a drunker vocal along with a few lyrical variations. It’s interesting, but not as stirring.
Lou Reed Coney Island Baby (1976)—3
2006 30th Anniversary Deluxe Edition: same as 1976, plus 6 extra tracks
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Part of the problem was the times, and Pat DiNizio’s mood. Lovelorn is one thing, but here he’s just inconsolable. “War For My Mind” and “Everything I Have Is Blue” aren’t exactly grunge, yet even at a fast tempo they plod. “Miles From Nowhere” was the single, and a good one, but “Afternoon Tea” doesn’t meet its potential by the same chord played on every beat despite the actual modulations in the song. At least “Point Of No Return” and “Sleep The Night Away” (a rewrite of “Cigarette” from the first album) finally provide some of their trademark bite.
“Love Is Gone” and “Long Way Back Again” keep up the energy, and then we come to the misfire of the album, if not the band’s career. The overt Revolver-style arrangement and production belie the misguided op-ed statement of “Gotti”. Their fans don’t listen to the Smithereens for politics, and if the band really felt this way about the situation, you’d think they’d have the balls to extend the title to encompass the message of “free John Gotti”. This isn’t Bob Dylan painting Joey Gallo as a modern-day Western outlaw. While it might’ve made a swell B-side, “Sick Of Seattle” is too clever for its own good, besides repeating the meter from “Sleep The Night Away”. “Can’t Go Home Anymore” drags the proceedings back to normal with a snotty harmonica to boot, which keeps wheezing on “Life Is So Beautiful”.
Ultimately, A Date With The Smithereens turned out to be a one-shot deal; the label didn’t stick with them, and a year later their original label marketed a best-of collection that covered everything they’d do to date, including only “Miles From Nowhere” from this album, and rarities in the way of “Beauty And Sadness” and a cover of “Time Won’t Let Me”. Blown To Smithereens became a perennial catalog piece, both selling the band to newbies and reminding longtime fans of what once was. (For the real geeks out there, Attack Of The Smithereens was loaded with rarities, covers, B-sides and demos, while a decade later, From Jersey It Came! tried to accomplish both hits and rarities in a two-disc package.)
The Smithereens A Date With The Smithereens (1994)—2½
The Smithereens Blown To Smithereens: The Best Of The Smithereens (1995)—4½
The Smithereens Attack Of The Smithereens (1995)—3
The Smithereens From Jersey It Came! The Smithereens Anthology (2004)—3½
Friday, May 13, 2016
The Singles offers just that, a chronological ride through the band’s most recognizable songs, starting with “Stop Your Sobbing” before the first album, moving through the run-up to the second, the intermediate statement of “Back On The Chain Gang” before the return of the third, and finally the most worthy selections from the fourth. As an added bonus for those who already owned these songs in some format, “Day After Day” appears in its single mix (with a fade instead of the plane-crash ending) and Chrissie’s recent duet on UB40’s cover of “I Got You Babe” closes the set.
Taken together, all of the songs on The Singles flow well, from ballad to rocker to punk to soul, despite being played by different bands. And anything that gives the consumer reason to avoid Get Close is a good thing.
Pretenders The Singles (1987)—4
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Minstrel In The Gallery sports a wonderful cover, and even sets up the title track to suggest we’re in some castle some centuries back. For the first verses, all we hear are Ian Anderson’s voice(s), guitar and flute, all at once, leaving us to wonder where the rest of the band is. But they do arrive, following a flourish, providing all the pow the kids demand. “Cold Wind To Valhalla” begins the same way, building and impressing, with some scary strings and well-syncopated intervals. “Black Satin Dancer” is doubtlessly set in this century, its descending riff of doom escalating the unease until its prettier coda. The sensitive “Requiem” is nicely closes the side, sad strumming and sympathetic strings.
Side two is dominated by a 16-minute suite, but is bookended by two tracks that might as well be part of it. Despite its redundant math, “One White Duck/010=Nothing At All” is another song of lovelorn depression before we get to “Baker St. Muse” proper, which follows the narrator through his day in labeled sections. That’s nothing new to this band, nor is putting Elizabethan folk touches to a lyrical setting that is certainly present-day. When the singer gets out of the way for Martin Barre to lay down a solo, or another section introduces itself, ears prick up. After he’s seemingly locked in the studio, “Grace” is a 37-second coda given lush ornamentation that might have gone better unlisted or left off.
It’s a dangerous business, navigating a dense catalog by a band with such a fervent fan base. If you’re not normally inclined to prog, there simply isn’t enough time in the day to play catch-up forty years after the fact, so while Tull (or more specifically, Ian) obviously put in a lot of time creating and crafting their albums, Minstrel In The Gallery is like much of their catalog in that it won’t get the same amount of play as their earlier albums. “Accessible” doesn’t have to mean “pandering”, and more bands should try it sometime.
Jethro Tull Minstrel In The Gallery (1975)—3
Friday, May 6, 2016
Therefore we approached Joni Mitchell’s Geffen years with some trepidation. She released four albums for the label in the space of ten years, each defined by the sub-era in which they appeared. A common thread is bassist, co-producer and then-husband Larry Klein, so maybe these albums should be considered more the Klein years than the Geffen years.
Some familiar names grace the credits of Wild Things Run Fast, like John Guerin, Larry Carlton and Wayne Shorter, alongside newer, younger guns like Steve Lukather and Vinnie Colaiuta. Add the painted self-portrait, and the listener might expect an easier ride after the experiments of her last couple of albums. But this is the ‘80s, so drums will sound more processed, synthesizers will abound, and the mix will be very, very clean. Thankfully, Joni has never been trendy, so technology does not rule the day.
Just as she once mixed “Centerpiece” into one of her own songs, “Chinese Café” works “Unchained Melody” into the plot as well as the music, making for a lush, minor classic. The most aggressive guitar yet on any of her albums defines the title track, somewhat distracting while she’s harmonizing with herself. “Ladies’ Man” is, as its own title might suggest, more subtle, fitting in with the contemporary jazz of the time. Larry Klein is no Jaco Pastorius, but his bass style on this album, and especially “Moon At The Window”, will remind one’s ear of Hejira. History will also tell us that he’s the inspiration behind “Solid Love”, one of the happiest love songs she’s ever written and recorded.
“Be Cool” sounds like one expects it should, missing only finger snaps in the place of the drums. The big misstep is a cover of “(You’re So Square) Baby I Don’t Care” that sounds as processed as it can be, with a guitar part designed to appeal to Van Halen fans. The only redeeming factor is the major-seventh chords over the fade. The loud guitars continue on “You Dream Flat Tires”, still a strange sound on a Joni album; the other voice on the track is Lionel Richie, who also isn’t normally associated with fusion. “Man To Man” has many guitar and synth touches similar to the Police influences she said went into the album, and maybe they’re also in “Underneath The Streetlight”. This track’s repeated hook (“Yes I do I love you!”, the exclamation point printed in the lyrics every time) and “Love”, adapted from Corinthians, seal the album’s portrait of Little Joni, happy at last.
Indeed, one must forget about the girl with the guitar and the piano beloved from those first albums, just as she’d demand you would. Wild Things Run Fast takes time, and an open mind to appreciate.
Joni Mitchell Wild Things Run Fast (1982)—3