Brian Eno 23: The Ship

Ambient music and vocal music have been parts of various Eno albums, to be sure, but he’s rarely tried to meld them within the same piece. That changed with The Ship.

The title track is a lengthy meditation on the sinking of the Titanic. The subject is not a new obsession; back in the ‘70s Eno inaugurated his Obscure Records label with a neo-classical piece by Gavin Bryars called, yes, The Sinking Of The Titanic, which built on the idea that the orchestra on board kept playing while the boat sank. This intriguing piece incorporated taped voices and sound effects to approximate the effect of water, and so does Eno’s. After several minutes of setting a mood, he starts singing, slowly, in a very low register, and harmonized. When the voices arrive, they’re either fragmented, too low to discern, or approximate another language, until the piece fades on a repeated “wave after wave”.

The second half of the album is a suite in three parts titled “Fickle Sun”, said to be inspired by the further destruction of the first World War. The first part is almost as long as “The Ship”, but the music isn’t as soothing, with more ominous melodies in the background and the lyric punctuated by distant thuds that approach into loud clanging accompanied by brass. A churchy organ emerges, and the melody changes to a more major key. Soon the voice appears almost alone, with a female voice processed to sound like a telegraph, ending with some strings and more uncertainty. The second part, subtitled “The Hour Is Thin”, is a relatively brief, apparently computer-generated monologue read by the voice of Darth Maul, the live-action Tick, and the flatmate from Shaun Of The Dead over some otherwise pleasant piano plinking we’d prefer to hear alone. The surprising finale is a very reverent cover of the Velvet Underground’s “I’m Set Free”, helped by recent cohorts Jon Hopkins and Leo Abrahams. Whatever this has to do with the Titanic or the war is beyond us, but it’s shimmering and lovely.

Because of its length, The Ship is one of those Eno albums that sounds different every time you listen to it, thanks to all the layers and textures. And that’s probably what he wanted. It’s easy to get lost in.

Brian Eno The Ship (2016)—3

Lou Reed 32: Lulu

While he’d been mildly active, and certainly visible, Lou Reed wasn’t celebrated for any new innovations in the 21st century. Most of his musical adventures involved reviving earlier triumphs; his last album of new material was just plain ugly. But despite finding true love with Laurie Anderson, he wasn’t about to turn softer or gentler, and was happy to explore the worst aspects of the human condition via yet another pile of songs designed to accompany yet another obscure German play being directed by Robert Wilson. (The original playwright also wrote the text that would become the modern musical Spring Awakening.) Since the source material concerned a seductress turned prostitute, it naturally behooved Lou to go out of his way to load up the libretto with scatological references and violent sexual imagery. Adding to the carnage was his decision to record the songs with Metallica, who hadn’t exactly been relevant for a couple of decades themselves.

On paper, the idea of Lou Reed backed by Metallica sounds like a really terrible idea, and the audio evidence doesn’t contradict. It wasn’t enough to just knock out a few songs—Lulu is a double album, running nearly 90 minutes. Don’t be fooled: this is not art. It’s not even decent noise.

“Brandenburg Gate” starts okay, with a few strums of an acoustic and Lou singing on pitch, but then three power chords crash in and James Hetfield starts yelling “small town girl” at the end of each phrase and Lou’s grasp on melody goes out the window. This is the shortest track on the album. “The View” would be a hilarious theme song for the talk show of the same name, as it’s built on doom-soaked chords for Lou to rant over. Hetfield offers a chorus of sorts as small respite, and there’s a decent solo, so perhaps the band could rework it on their own. What sounds like a viola opens “Pumping Blood”, soon melded and overtaken by feedback and another crunching riff that deserves better than Lou yelling the title over it. This gives way to a moodier section while Lou talks about, you guessed it, pumping blood, then a completely different riff takes over, then another. The same feedback leads to the speed metal of “Mistress Dread”, providing at least a consistent tempo for headbanging. “Iced Honey” repeats the same two chords, and is shorter than it seems; the dueling vocals when they start do not favor either singer. “Cheat On Me” opens with three minutes of a near-ambient drone that will turn to feedback when Lou cuts in, and a drum pattern right out of the Moe Tucker playbook starts up. But Lars Ulrich can’t play that simple that long, so around the time Lou and James start yelling at each other he’s hitting more and more drums and adding cymbals. This continues for another six minutes.

“Frustration”—too easy a target for a song title—begins with a minute or so of metallic scraping and stabs at an organ, like something used as percussion on a Tom Waits album, then the most basic metal riff of all time provides another bed for Lou to rant over. Everything comes to a halt, and then he decides to sing a melody over the tuneless scraping. The most listenable track isn’t exactly a relief, as “Little Dog” sports minor-key acoustic strumming in one channel and electric feedback in the other and also in the center, the lyrics lamenting the existence of the subject. (Lou loved dogs, and he and Laurie had lost Lolabelle to pancreatic cancer just a few years before.) “Dragon” goes back to the established template of ambient noise eventually taken over by riffing that, again, deserves a better lyric and vocal than the eleven minutes of ranting here. “Junior Dad” finally combines a melody with a sentimental backing, with a drone not unlike a John Cale viola, but more like what’s used on an Eno album. It also runs over nineteen minutes, the last nine of which consist solely of that drone.

It’s mostly too bad that there are some decent metal riffs throughout Lulu, doomed to exist only for Lou to yell over. His voice is ragged but not in a method acting way. He doesn’t sound scary; he just sounds weak. The few times Hetfield gets to let loose with his yowl just jar with Lou’s bleating, to the point where they don’t even sound like they’re on the same album. (Frankly, we’d love to know how many times during the sessions Lou glared at Lars or ordered him to just shut up already.)

David Bowie allegedly loved this album. And there is music on Lulu, really. It’s just not worth waiting for. It would also be the last new music Lou Reed would release in his lifetime.

Lou Reed & Metallica Lulu (2011)—2

Bryan Ferry 6: Boys And Girls

The template set by Avalon served Bryan Ferry very well following the second dissolution of Roxy Music. Boys And Girls not only continues the trend towards original material, just like his more recent solo albums, but it includes many of the same hired-guns involved with Roxy at the end—Andy Newmark, Neil Hubbard, Alan Spenner, and more. Several guitarists of name pop up throughout the album, and David Sanborn is the only saxophonist credited. Neither Phil Manzanera nor Andy Mackay appear in the laundry list of contributors.

In many ways, the album is Avalon II: The Sequel. “Sensation” works the template, with one guitar playing a staccato two-note riff over a disco thump, but just when you think it’s going to be ordinary, “Slave To Love” bursts forth. The deceptive intro is in one key, and the song itself moves to the standard I-vi-IV-V with a pretty melody on top. When the intro returns for the solo, it’s a perfect transition. Simple but infectious. “Don’t Stop The Dance” returns to the moody template. Ferry’s ever known to be deep, but he does make the astute observation that “beauty should be deeper than skin”, and who can argue? “A Waste Land” isn’t much more than an impressionistic link, filling the “India” slot on Avalon, going right into “Windswept”, which shares some musical similarities to “While My Heart Is Still Beating”.

Flip over to side two and “The Chosen One” burbles into place, sounding just like “The Main Thing”. “Valentine” breaks from the template with something of a Mideastern reggae feel; this time the guitarist would either be Mark Knopfler or someone doing an uncanny impression. “Stone Woman” picks up the tempo noticeably, though it’s not much more than a dance groove. The title tracks provides a slow-burning finale, automated and real drums beating to the end.

Like most sequels, Boys And Girls doesn’t so much continue the story as retell it, and that’s fine if you’re looking for more of the same. The days when Bryan Ferry was a trendsetter were long past, and now he was just making records and counting the money. He could still blend vocals to make one’s ears prick up.

Bryan Ferry Boys And Girls (1985)—3

Eric Clapton 5: Rainbow Concert

Credit Pete Townshend for trying to get Eric Clapton back to regular work instead of succumbing to his heroin addiction. This entailed assembling an all-star band to back him for a pair of shows at London’s Rainbow Theater. In addition to himself, the other musicians were erstwhile Traffic members Steve Winwood, Jim Capaldi, Rebop Kwaku Baah, and Ric Grech, plus Ron Wood and the elusive Jimmy Karstein. All were prominently listed on the cover of Eric Clapton’s Rainbow Concert, released nine months later by a label that had already been busy recycling Clapton recordings.

All-star concerts are often more notable for who’s playing rather than how well they play, and the six songs here aren’t exactly mind-blowing. After a half-decent “Badge” and a run through the Dominos rarity “Roll It Over”, Stevie sings “Presence Of The Lord.” He takes the lead on Traffic’s “Pearly Queen”, which manages to hold together despite the full stage before galloping to a finish. “After Midnight” is somewhat plodding, but “Little Wing” benefits from the extra players, and they’re mostly in tune. (Reports that several vocals were overdubbed after the fact have not been disproved.)

Coming soon after the Dominos live album, Rainbow Concert wasn’t much more than a cash grab with star power to move it, and so it remained. Following Clapton’s resurgence in the ‘90s, the eventual remastered CD was filled nearly to capacity with further performances from the two shows, reconstructed to approximate a true setlist. Unfortunately, they did so by editing down the songs that were on the original album, which was short to begin with, and leaving out two others from the original night. (Did we really need to hear Townshend ribbing an unamused Capaldi between numbers about an alleged STD?)

That said, the new version is certainly listenable, if not a true document. We hear an emcee introduce “Eric Clapton and the Palpitations,” and they rip right into “Layla”. “Blues Power” and “Key To The Highway” allow for more dueling and noodling, and Stevie nicely takes the high parts on “Bottle Of Red Wine” and “Tell The Truth”. The two drummers can’t cop Jim Gordon’s backwards beat on “Bell Bottom Blues”, but they trade off with Rebop for the middle of “Let It Rain”. All told, it’s better, but not exactly essential.

Eric Clapton Eric Clapton’s Rainbow Concert (1973)—2½
1995 Chronicles remaster: “same” as 1973, plus 8 extra tracks

Todd Rundgren 28: With A Twist

So this was kinda cute. Anyone wishing Todd would do an album like one of his old classics was greeted with a collection of older songs freshly re-recorded lounge/exotica-style with his usual studio cronies. He even insisted With A Twist... was not a gag in the liner notes, alongside a photo of him standing shirtless in a large body of water.

The songs are still recognizable, but rearranged from top to bottom to highlight the ensemble. Some of the differences are striking: “I Saw The Light” plays with the meter so it sometimes feels like it’s missing a beat; “Can We Still Be Friends” gets a sax solo; “It Wouldn’t Have Made Any Difference” uses the bossa-nova setting common on any number of keyboards. “Love Is The Answer” is far from anthemic, and “Hello It’s Me” is just plain creepy. Along with a remake of “Never Never Land” from Peter Pan and Marvin Gaye’s “I Want You”, less obvious choices of his own compositions—“Influenza”, “Mated”, “Fidelity”—sound closest to their soft origins, but none more so than “A Dream Goes On Forever”.

There’s a sameness throughout the album that wears out the concept pretty quickly, but the album actually works. Anyone hearing these songs for the very first time may have a better shot at enjoying them, because they were good songs to begin with. But none surpass the original recordings.

Todd Rundgren With A Twist... (1997)—3

Rush 23: Feedback and R30

Now that they were back at full strength, Rush happily began celebrations for their 30th anniversary as a band. Their first order of business was to release a covers EP. Yes, you read that correctly—one of the bands who always played their own material, to the note, was doing covers.

Most of the eight songs on Feedback come from that period around the Summer of Love that fostered countless garage bands. “Summertime Blues” follows the Blue Cheer template, but with more touches of The Who, who are also represented by “The Seeker”. Two other bands are saluted twice: the Yardbirds with “Heart Full Of Soul” and “Shapes Of Things”, and Buffalo Springfield with a staid “For What It’s Worth” and “Mr. Soul”, which sports a clever quote from “Eight Miles High”. Geddy Lee adds his own harmony to Love’s “Seven And Seven Is”, which repeats the first verse rather than go straight to the explosion. Finally, “Crossroads” is all Cream.

This little album is a labor of love from the band, and will be best appreciated by its fans. Purists who revere the originals but despise Rush should appreciate that Geddy’s vocals are mostly restrained, Alex Lifeson pretty much sticks to the riffs, and Neil Peart doesn’t hit more drums or cymbals than anyone has to.

Four of the songs on Feedback would become regulars on the setlist for the so-called R30 anniversary tour, the Frankfurt stop of which was subsequently documented in a DVD package. The deluxe version included archival content, plus the music on two CDs, with a slightly abridged program that repeats only eight songs from Rush In Rio.

Coming soon after that album may seem like market saturation, but the sound is superior to that set. The opening “R30 Overture” is a nice arrangement of snippets from their early epics, going right into “The Spirit Of Radio”. “Between The Wheels” is a surprise inclusion, and of course we get a banded nine-minute drum solo out of “Mystic Rhythms”. Another unplugged “Resist” leads to an acoustic “Heart Full Of Soul” with Neil’s most understated drums ever. By the end of the show, Geddy has to compensate for some of the high notes. (The visuals add to the experience, especially since vending machines are now visible near the washers and dryers on Geddy’s side of the stage.)

Rush Feedback (2004)—3
Rush R30: 30th Anniversary World Tour (2005)—3

Prince 19: Girl 6

Even though nobody knew what to call him, The Artist Formerly Known As Prince managed to keep people guessing just by staying in the news. The soundtrack for the Spike Lee joint Girl 6 further confused things by proclaiming “SONGS BY PRINCE” on the cover. It even appeared on Warner Bros., the label that had made him so angry in the first place. We haven’t seen the film, but the album is a curious little sampler of old and new, with album tracks and B-sides going back a decade, plus contributions from other Paisley Park artists driven by the man himself.

The brand new “She Spoke 2 Me” has mild jazz overtones in the horns and especially the guitar solo, and while “Don’t Talk 2 Strangers” is sweet, somehow such a sentiment seems odd coming from him, and after the more charged material on the rest of the album. The title track is danceable, and features samples from the film; interestingly, it’s credited to New Power Generation, but he’s obviously singing. “Count The Days” is a soulful one sporting a certain twelve-letter insult from a so-called “solo” New Power Generation album, and everybody knows “Nasty Girl” by Vanity 6, but more exciting is “The Screams Of Passion”, which was the debut single in 1985 by The Family. “Pink Cashmere” is repeated from the Hits album; so technically are “Erotic City” and “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore?”, making this a more convenient, less expensive way to obtain those songs. “Girls & Boys” comes from Parade, while three tracks from Sign "☮" The Times don’t excuse anyone from owning that album.

Again, while it’s an odd collection, Girl 6 provides something of an alternate Prince mix tape. And although the material comes from a variety of sources, it all holds together just fine.

Music From The Motion Picture Girl 6 (1996)—3