Category Archives: Five Stars

The Small Faces: All or Nothing – 1965-1968

Stellar documentary of British Invasion giants

All or Nothing 1965-1968 is one of four documentaries released as part of a five-DVD British Invasion box set by Reelin’ in the Years Productions. It is a spectacular collection of footage that spans twenty-seven complete vintage performances, interviews with the principle band members reflecting on their time as seminal mod and psychedelic rockers, and superb vintage clips of the band creating in the studio, shopping on Carnaby Street and gigging at iconic clubs like the Marquee. The producers have performed miracles in digging up rare television and film footage, and archival interviews with Steve Marriott (from 1985) and Ronnie Lane (from 1988, his last filmed appearance) are complemented by contemporary interviews with Kenney Jones and Ian McLagan.

Though the Small Faces had only one chart hit in the U.S. (1968’s “Itchycoo Park”), their fame in the UK and Europe, not to mention their style, sound and musicianship, were in league with the Who and Stones. The band members post-Small Faces gigs brought a greater helping of stateside fame (Marriott with Humble Pie; Lane, McLagan and Jones with the Faces; and Jones with the latter-day Who), but this 101-minute documentary shows the Small Faces were a group to be reckoned with. Marriott was a ferocious front-man with an aggressive vocal delivery, hot guitar licks and a songwriting partnership with Ronnie Lane that matured from derivative R&B to original tunes that wove pop, rock and psych influences into their bedrock soul. The interviews trace the group’s original influences, the pop sides forced upon them, and the turning points at which they made artistic leaps forward.

Among the biggest events in the Small Faces’ development was a change in management and label from Don Arden and Decca to Andrew Loog Oldham and Immediate. The mod sounds and styles of their early singles quickly became psychedelic, but not before launching their new phase with the 1967 ode to methadrine, “Here Comes the Nice.” Their hair and fashions in the accompanying television performance find the band in transition between the dandy style of the mods and the floral and flowing elements of the hippie revolution. The influence of LSD can be heard in “Green Shadows” and the band’s U.S. breakthrough, “Itchycoo Park,” which McLagan suggests was a rebuttal to England’s formal system of higher education. The group’s pièce de résistance, Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake, is essayed here with a lip-synched clip of the title tune and a seven-song live-sung (but not played) set from the BBC’s Colour Me Pop.

The progression from the hard R&B of “Whatch Gonna Do About It” to their crowning concept album is impressive, but that it happened in only three years is amazing. The story of the Small Faces is told here in the band’s words and music, with interview footage woven among the music clips. The full performances, including four not featured in the documentary, can be viewed separately via DVD menu options. Lane’s full interview and a photo gallery are included as extras, along with a 24-page booklet featuring detailed credits and song notes. This disc will strike a deep nostalgic chord for UK fans, and will be a voyage of discovery for Americans familiar only with “All or Nothing,” “Itchycoo Park,” “Tin Soldier,” and “Lazy Sunday.” [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

The Small Faces’ Home Page
Reelin’ in the Years’ Home Page

Paul Revere & The Raiders featuring Mark Lindsay: The Complete Columbia Singles

Terrific 3-CD anthology of underappreciated powerhouse

Pacific Northwest powerhouse Paul Revere & the Raiders seem to have been lost in shadow of Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets and the hundreds of garage-rock compilations that followed in its wake. They aren’t exactly a secret, having recorded for Columbia, scoring fifteen Top 40 singles, garnering a feature spot on Where the Action Is and hosting their own shows, Happening ’68 and It’s Happening. But neither are they afforded the recognition their hits, B-sides, album cuts and live performances really earned. Perhaps it was the genesis of their stardom in Southern California or their major label association that kept them from garage band legend. Maybe it was the themed costumes – particularly the three-corner hats – or that vocalist Mark Lindsay had a soulful finesse which went beyond the typical garage-punk snot. Or maybe it’s that their run into the mid-70s outlasted their roots. Whatever it was, it’s left the Raiders rich catalog remembered only by a few high-charting hits.

The Raiders’ garage and frat-rock credentials were minted on a string of indie singles, and a recording of rock ‘n’ roll’s national anthem, “Louie, Louie,” that was laid down only a few weeks after the Kingsmen’s. The Raiders version bubbled under the Top 100, and along with the Wailers’ earlier version helped root the song in the Pacific Northwest. Picked up by Columbia the single had a good helping of regional success before Columbia A&R honcho Mitch Miller scuttled it. The group’s original follow-up “Louie-Go Home” sounds more like a grungy take on Otis Blackwell’s “Daddy Rolling Stone,” than a riff on Richard Berry’s original, and once again only managed to grazed the bottom of the Billboard chart. These early single, fueled by Lindsay’s fat saxophone tone and covers of R&B tunes “Night Train” and “Have Love, Will Travel,” weren’t as raw as the Sonics, but were still a lot meatier than most of their L.A., Chicago or Northeast counterparts.

“Louie, Louie,” originally released on the Sande label, turned out to be the Raiders ticket to the big time: a deal with Columbia Records. The group continued to crank out R&B covers for the next year, including a fuzz-heavy cover of Gene Thomas’ country-tinged “Sometimes” and a solid take on the Aaron Neville hit “Over You.” The group’s original were initially limited to B-sides, such as the instrumental “Swim,” but in 1965 the Lindsay/Revere composition “Steppin’ Out” began the group’s assault on the charts. Revere’s organ riffs and a confrontational lyric gave this single a tougher garage sound that took them just shy of the Top 40. A short-lived detour into Jan & Dean-styled car songs (“SS396” b/w “Corvair Baby”) was followed by a trifecta of the group’s best remembered hits.

First up was “Just Like Me,” with a wickedly insinuating organ riff, a brilliant double guitar solo, and a vocal that rises from barely contained verses to emotionally explosive choruses. Next was Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil’s anti-drug “Kicks,” turned down by the Animals and taken to #4 by the Raiders. Lindsay really sells the song, singing the lyric as both a lecture and a plea, forceful on the verses and understanding in the choruses. The group cracked the Top 10 again with another Mann & Weil tune, “Hungry,” propelled by its hypnotically powerful bass line. The group (with Terry Melcher) subsequently began writing many of their own hits and B-sides, including “Good Thing,” “Him or Me,” and “Ups and Downs,” and Melcher began adding studio musicians to the mix.

As 1967 turned into 1968 the band stretched from their Northwest rock roots into sunshine pop, bubblegum, folk rock, soul and light-psych. Fine sides from this period include the Beatle-esque “Too Much Talk,” the groovy theme songs “Happening ‘68” and “It’s Happening,” and the chewy “Cinderella Sunshine” and “Mr. Sun, Mr. Moon.” The latter two are among the sides Lindsey produced for the band after their separation from Terry Melcher and the arrival of three replacement Raiders with Southern roots. By the end of the 1960s the group’s singles were charting lower, often outside the Top 40, but their quality never dipped, and the advent of stereo releases (with 1969’s “We Gotta All Get Together”) finally detached their sound from the monophonic thrash of their Northwest roots.

Their success was renewed in 1971 with a cover of John D. Loudermilk’s “Indian Reservation (The Lament of the Cherokee Reservation Indian),” a song that had been recorded a decade earlier by Marvin Rainwater and with some commercial success by Don Fardon. The Raiders’ version topped the singles charts – their only #1 – and sold a million copies. The renewed success was brief however: a follow-up cover of Joe South’s “Birds of a Feather” just missed the Top 20, and their next four singles charted lower and lower, ending their run with 1973’s barely charting pre-disco “Love Music.” The group’s contract with Columbia ended in 1975, lead singer Mark Lindsay left for a solo career, and though the group soldiered on with sporadic new releases they became more of a fixture on the oldies circuit.

Collectors’ Choice’s 3-CD set offers sixty-six tracks that cover all of the group’s Columbia singles. The B-sides offer some real treats, including the autobiographical “The Legend of Paul Revere,” the Las Vegas grind-styled instrumental “B.F.D.R.F. Blues,” the flower-power “Do Unto Others,” the trippy “Observations from Flight 285 (in 3/4 Time),” the muscular jam “Without You,” the Band-styled country-rock “I Don’t Know,” the Peter & Gordon-ish “Frankford Side Street,” and the organ instrumental “Terry’s Tune.” There are four rarities: the withdrawn “Rain, Sleet, Snow” and its flip “Brotherly Love,” and promo songs for the GTO (“Judge GTO Breakaway”) and a Mattel doll (“Song for Swingy”). The collection closes with the post-Mark Lindsay “Your Love (is the Only Love),” featuring Bob Wooley on lead vocal. Missing are the group’s pre-Columbia singles, including their boogie-woogie instrumentals “Beatnik Sticks” and “Like, Long Hair,” and their last single “Ain’t Nothin’ Wrong.”

This recitation of the group’s Columbia singles hits most of the group’s highlights, but with fourteen LPs to their credit there are some worthy album cuts missing, such as their pre-Monkees version of “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone.” That said, this is a superb document of the band’s evolution from Northwest powerhouse into a group that could finesse pop, rock, folk, soul and R&B sounds. Their singles were of an unusually consistent quality, and the group’s ability to chart new directions while retaining the heart of their original identity is truly impressive. For most listeners the group’s name will evoke only one or two of these hits, but as eleven years of singles reveal, there was a whole lot more to Paul Revere and the Raiders than three-corner hats and Northwest garage. [©2010-2012 hyperbolium dot com]

Paul Revere and the Raiders’ Home Page
Mark Lindsay’s Home Page
Phil “Fang” Volk’s Home Page

Elvis Presley: On Stage (Legacy Edition)

Elvis recorded live amid the blaze of his 1968-71 revival

After an eight-year layoff from concert performance, Elvis returned to the stage with a pair of runs at the International Hotel in Las Vegas. The first shows, in the summer of 1969, were first captured on Elvis in Person at the International Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada, and featured samples of his seminal early hits and then-contemporary smashes. In early 1970 he returned for a second set of shows, documented on On Stage, and changed up the set list to highlight his restyling of others’ hits in his own image. RCA’s new two-disc Legacy Edition combines both albums and ten bonus tracks into a superbly detailed picture of Elvis’ return to the stage and the physical reconnection to his fans.

When originally released, the albums caught Elvis amid his biggest blaze of glory. His televised ’68 Comeback Special had proved him still vital, and the 1969 studio sessions that resulted in From Elvis in Memphis (and its own 2-CD Legacy reissue) had proved him still relevant. The live sets showed Elvis to be both a star of the brightest magnitude and an artist with something to say to contemporary audiences. With both an extensive legacy and new singles, Elvis had to find a way to satisfy crowds that came to hear both his rich back catalog and his hot new hits. In the ’69 shows, featured on disc two of this set, Elvis cherry-picked from his seminal rock ‘n’ roll sides (including blistering versions of “Mystery Train” and “Hound Dog”), his early’60s post-army comeback hits, and the contemporary tracks he’d recently laid down with Chips Moman at American Studios.

For his 1970 return to Las Vegas, featured on disc one, Elvis leaned away from the rocked-up performances of 1969 and more heavily on his then-current penchant for covers. Beyond his Top 10 cover of Ray Peterson’s “The Wonder of You,” the selections forsook the golden oldies in favor of recent hits by Engelbert Humperdinck (“Release Me”), Neil Diamond (“Sweet Caroline”), Tony Joe White (“Polk Salad Annie”), the Beatles (“Yesterday,” recorded at the 1969 shows), Creedence Clearwater Revival (“Proud Mary”), and Joe South (“Walk a Mile in My Shoes”). It’s a mark of Elvis’ force and singularity as a performer that the original singers often disappeared in his wake, and a few of these songs (particularly “Walk a Mile in My Shoes”) became as closely associated with the King as with their originators.

Elvis sounds loose, comfortable and artistically commanding on stage, a surprise given his eight-year hiatus from live performance. No doubt his A-list TCB Band (which included James Burton, Jerry Scheff, Glen D. Hardin and the Sweet Inspirations) helped him regain his crown, but the essential flame that sparked in 1954 was clearly still burning within sixteen years later. A hint of his humble uncertainty is shown as he introduces “Kentucky Rain” with “I have out a new record, just came out in the past week or so, I hope you like it,” but his fans never had a doubt. As with his Memphis sessions of 1969, the liberty to engage his musical muse spurred Elvis to great artistic heights. Freed from the musical dross that filled many of his film soundtracks, standing in front of an audience he’d not seen face-to-face in nearly a decade, Elvis dug deep into the music he loved.

As with much of Elvis’ catalog, these tracks have been issued, reissued and scattered among previous collections. The original 10-track On Stage was reissued on CD in 1999 with six bonus tracks, and all of the extras collected here (four for On Stage, six for Elvis in Person) have seen previous release on reissues, greatest hits collections and collector’s discs from Follow That Dream. But gathered together into a single volume they paint a compelling picture of Elvis’ live show: the seminal early hits, post-army comebacks, contemporary breakthroughs, and refashioned covers, and amid it all the revival of a legendary musical talent mid-stride between the triumphs of the late ‘60s and the forthcoming early-70s successes (e.g., Elvis Country) that would cap his incredible comeback. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Elvis Presley’s Home Page

The Runaways: The Mercury Albums Anthology

Terrific collection of The Runaways four Mercury albums

With the Runaways biopic getting a major market push, it was a no-brainer for their oft-ignored catalog to get a fresh reissue. Contained in this set are the three studio albums the group recorded for Mercury (The Runaways, Queens of Noise and Waitin’ For the Night), and a live album originally released as an import (Live in Japan). This represents the heart and soul of the Runaways’ catalog, and though a post-Mercury album (And Now… The Runaways), an odds ‘n’ sods collection (Flaming Schoolgirls) and prehistoric demos (Born to Be Bad) can be found, they’re the province of completists. For those new to the group’s repertoire this four-LPs-on-two-CDs set will tell you everything you need to know – if not a bit more – about the group’s recorded legacy.

The Runaways’ self-titled 1976 debut tells most of the story: five girls who are both a legitimate rock group and puppets of their Svengali producer, Kim Fowley. The dynamic of teenage hormones, rock ‘n’ roll dreams and jailbait marketing gave the album both muscle and sexual sizzle. Joan Jett proved herself a songwriter with an uncommon touch for evoking mid-70s Los Angeles teendom, and she and Cherie Currie sang with a conviction that couldn’t be faked. The band’s playing could be plodding and clumsy in spots, but it was still surprisingly powerful. The group’s 1977 follow-up, Queens of Noise, followed the same template, but within it you could hear the group was a year wiser to the perils of rock ‘n’ roll. Abused by their managers and worn down by the road, they were staring at the madness that would cause the band to implode.

The group’s live album, recorded before an enthusiastic audience in Japan, shows how well the act translated to the stage. As on their debut, the playing isn’t particularly refined, but Currie shows herself to be a commanding front-woman, and Sandy West holds down the beat with power and authority. The Runaways’ final studio release for Mercury, Waitin’ For the Night, saw the band reconfigured: Cherie Currie and Jackie Fox were gone, and with them went some of the band’s overt sex appeal. The former’s vocal spotlight fell to Joan Jett, the latter’s bass playing to Vicki Blue, and the focus to the band’s music. Jett seized the opportunity to assert herself as group leader, rising to the challenge of writing most and singing all of the album’s tracks. In the album’s wake Jett proved, at least to listeners, if not to the record industry, that she was a star in the making. Lita Ford’s two metal-tinged originals also pointed to post-Runaways commercial success.

If you’re new to the group and not ready to invest in the anthology, the self-titled debut album is the place to start. If you want to get a feel for their career arc, the short collection 20th Century Masters – The Millennium Collection: The Runaways or the out of print The Best of the Runaways effectively sample their catalog. But if you’re hooked and want to hear it all, there are winners to be found on all three of their studio albums, and the live release fleshes out the picture of rock ‘n’ roll life on the road circa 1977. The Runaways weren’t the greatest rock band of their era, but they were trailblazers whose albums captured a time and a place from a young, female perspective that was, and remains to this day, theirs alone. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

The Runaways’ Home Page

The Plimsouls: Live! Beg, Borrow & Steal

L.A. rock ‘n’ roll at the height of its 1981 power

Alive Records seems to be on a mission to get all of Peter Case’s early material into circulation. They issued the first official CD of the Nerves EP (with bonus tracks!), a live Nerves LP, Case’s post-Nerves hook-up with Paul Collins in the Breakaways, and now this supercharged live show by the Plimsouls. Already one of L.A.’s most potent rock ‘n’ roll bands, the Plimsouls hit a sixth gear when they played live. Fans have previously enjoyed another live set on One Night in America, and though the audio seems slightly more compressed on this October 1981 recording, the performance is a few degrees hotter. Peter Case sings with a ragged, full-throated soulfulness that’s urged along by Dave Pahoa and Lou Ramierez’s rhythms and goosed by Eddie Munoz’s electric guitar riffs.

The Plimsouls were a non-stop live act. They launch from the gates at full-speed with “Hush Hush” and never let the pedal up from the floor. “Lost Time” assembles itself from stabbing rhythm guitar riffs, rumbling bass and propulsive drums, and “Women” teases with a moment of confidentiality before roaring down the strip with all cylinders firing. Plimsouls originals “A Million Miles Away” and “Everyday Things” get an extra measure of passion on stage, and when the band kicks into their encore covers of the Kinks’ “Come on Now” and Gary “U.S.” Bonds’ “New Orleans” (with the Fleshtones sitting in on the latter) it’s as if they’re offering their souls on the altar rock ‘n’ roll. Their cover of Thee Midniters’ “Jump, Jive & Harmonize” is missing the signature organ whine, but Case sounds absolutely possessed throughout this and the rest of the set.

Power pop fans treasure the Plimsouls’ studio recordings, but their live set proves them one of the era’s top rock ‘n’ roll bands. When they get deep into the groove it feels as if Peter Case is doing all he can to stay on top of this hard-charging band. Nearly thirty years later this set still commands you get up and move around – the Plimsouls’ powers transcend time and space. Less than half the titles here, recorded at the Whisky A Go Go, overlap with One Night in America, and the inclusion of “Lost Time,” “Women,” “Zero Hour,” “I Want You Back,” and “Everyday Things” makes this disc an essential for fans. Alive’s packaging includes a six-panel insert with terrific period photos (including the stellar color cover shot). Now if only they could get 1981’s The Plimsouls back in print! [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Zero Hour
The Plimsouls’ MySpace Page
Hidden Love Medical Relief Fund for Peter Case (backstory here)

Here they are two years earlier:

Bruce Eaton: Radio City 33-1/3

Superb accounting of Big Star and their second album

While the title suggests this book focuses directly on Big Star’s second album, and though most of its pages do, author Bruce Eaton also provides context with a compelling look at the band and its members. Most importantly, his fresh interview with Alex Chilton provides flavor from one of the band’s visionary singer-songwriters, which is something that eluded Rob Jovanovic in Big Star: The Short Life, Painful Death, and Unexpected Resurrection of the Kings of Power Pop. Eaton recounts familiar elements of the Big Star story, but couched in their studio work, they reveal new angles. His research into the recording sessions for Radio City turns up new detail on the monophonic sound of “Oh My Soul,” and offers a clear explanation of the Dolby Fuckers sessions that resulted in “Mod Lang” and “She’s a Mover.”

By the time you’re finished reading, you’ll be surprised with how holistic and organic Radio City sounds, in light of the ad hoc circumstances under which much of it was recorded. Eaton’s song-by-song notes are best read with the album playing, the better to hear the many subtleties he highlights. Ideally you should have the original album, the 2-CD Thank You Friends and the box set Keep an Eye on the Sky to cover all of the versions Eaton discusses. The book’s only real disappointment is the paucity of lyrical analysis – though there are a few enlightening revelations. No doubt Chilton’s dismissal of the words, which in his mind were slapped together without a great deal of craft, left Eaton without a living source of comment.

It’s a shame that Chris Bell didn’t survive to participate in this book, or to be the centerpiece of a companion volume on #1 Record. It’s clear from Eaton’s account that Bell’s vision for the band, which Chilton didn’t fully dismantle until Big Star Third, had significant impact even after his departure. The small form of the 33-1/3 books is cute, but the copy needs better editing and the photos need to be reproduced larger and more clearly. These complaints are minor points though, given the quality of Eaton’s research and writing. His recounting of playing with Chilton is a nice personal touch and caps a terrific read for Big Star fans. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Chris Bell: I Am the Cosmos (Deluxe Edition)

Expanded reissue of Big Star founder’s posthumous solo album

Big Star founder Chris Bell, like his band, is an enigma whose mystery has endured even as his details have been dispensed in retrospective bits and pieces. At the time of his greatest achievement, Big Star’s #1 Record, he and his band’s fame extended only to the rock literati. By the time the Big Star cult began to build, stoked by the reissue of their first two albums in the summer of 1978, Bell was only months away from death, at the age of 27, in a single vehicle car crash. At the time few had sought out his artistic details or inspirations, and musical archaeologists piecing together the strands of Big Star originally had to work from scant materials: the iconic Big Star album, a solo single of “I Am the Cosmos” b/w “You and Your Sister,” a few fanzine articles, and reminiscences of his friends and family.

Interest in Big Star continued to grow, but with Alex Chilton avoiding the press and Bell no longer living, details had to be divined from bits and pieces added retrospectively to the group’s legacy. Chilton released an EP, Singer Not the Song, in 1977, the long-delayed release of Big Star Third came in 1978, along with Bell’s single, and Chilton then released a string of solo albums that diverged further and further from his work with Big Star. It would be another eight years until the first two Big Star albums would appear on CD in 1986, and another six years until additional archival material was made available. In 1992 the floodgates opened with Ryko’s release of Big Star’s vintage radio performance, Live, and Chris Bell’s mid-70s solo album I Am the Cosmos.

The genesis of Bell’s solo recordings lay in the same aftermath from which Chilton bred Big Star Third. Bell had departed Big Star after the failure of #1 Record in 1972. From all reports, including Rob Jovanovic’s Big Star: The Short Life, Painful Death, and Unexpected Resurrection of the Kings of Power Pop, Bruce Eaton’s Radio City 33-1/3, and Bob Mehr’s lengthy essay in this deluxe reissue, Bell took the failure of #1 Record harder than anyone else, and by the sound of his solo recordings, he didn’t seem to have ever fully recovered. Recording in Memphis, France and England in 1974, and continuing to tinker with the recordings at Ardent for several more years, the results aren’t as anarchic as Chilton’s post-Big Star sessions, but they’re often as edgy. Most of the adolescence and winsomeness of Big Star had been rubbed out of both singer-songwriters by this point.

Several of Bell’s post-Big Star performances sound stressed, as if he’s striving to find meaning among ruined expectations for #1 Record and a mental state that wasn’t always sunny. The recordings can fatigue listeners’ ears with the high-end of Bell’s voice and the piercing splash of cymbals, but there are moments of musical art that match anything he’d achieved before. The album’s title track, presented in both its finished form and a slower version that extends over five minutes (two minutes longer than Ryko’s 1992 edit), can be read simply as a plea to a departed lover, a reassessment of the musician’s attachment to his former musical mates, or as a metaphysical song to Bell’s own youth. It’s a powerful song whose interpretations deepen with time.

Another of the album’s aces is the ballad “You and Your Sister,” featuring Alex Chilton on backing vocal. Here the yearning in Bell’s lyric and voice, framed by a pair of delicately fingerpicked acoustic guitars, underlined by deep bass and filigreed by a string quartet will stop you in your tracks. Two alternate versions, both present on Ryko’s 1992 edition, show how the song developed. An earlier take from 1974 is busier, with double-tracked vocals and a mellotron in place of the strings; a demo, also from 1974, lays out the song’s emotion in a stark acoustic performance that’s equally as effective as the final production. The inward searching and outward seeking heard here, along with a general restlessness and sense of despair echoes throughout the album.

“Speed of Sound” features lushly strummed acoustic guitars, accompanied by bass, volume-flanged electric guitar, and primitive moog behind a lyric of romantic defeat, disappointment and devastation. An alternate version recorded during the same sessions is sung deeper and more wounded than the master take, and without the moog the focus stays squarely on the vocalist’s pain. Bell reunited with his former Big Star rhythm section of Andy Hummel and Jody Stephens for “I Got Kinda Lost” and “There Was a Light,” the former a guitar-driven rocker, the latter a mid-tempo piano-and-guitar ballad. Bell’s growing relationship with Christianity is heard in “Better Save Yourself” and “Look Up,” and by 1976, his last known track “Though I Know She Lies” finds his voice is remarkably restrained; it’s hard to tell whether he’s comfortable or defeated.

Bell shopped the tapes around, but even with several top-notch singles and strong album material he was unable to get anyone to release his solo album. Chris Stamey issued “I am the Cosmos” b/w “You and Your Sister” as a single in 1978, but the rest of the material sat in the vault for another fourteen years. It wasn’t until Ryko issued a CD in 1992 that Bell’s post-Big Star voice was widely heard. Rhino Handmade’s 2-CD reissue includes all of the material on Ryko’s original CD and adds a dozen extras that include pre-Big Star tracks from Icewater (“Looking Forward” and “Sunshine”) and Rock City (“My Life is Right”), alternate recordings and mixes of album cuts, early demos, and Bell’s contribution to the Keith Sykes Band on “In My Darkest Hour.” The set closes with a moving acoustic instrumental, “Clacton Rag,” showing off the emotion of Bell’s guitar playing.

The discs are delivered in a six-panel digipack alongside a 32-page booklet featuring an extensive essay by Bob Mehr and track notes by Alec Palao. Casual fans will be satisfied with the original Ryko single disc, but anyone trying to build a more detailed picture of Chris Bell will want to listen to and study the extra tracks, historical notes and photos presented here. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Stream selected tracks from I Am the Cosmos

Elk: Tamarack Mansion

Insinuating pop with Americana undertones

Elk is a five-piece from Minneapolis (not to be confused with the like-named 4-piece from Philadelphia) fronted by former Bellwether vocalist Eric Luoma. Here he brings along his former band’s fetching melodies while leaving behind its overt Country and Americana influences, and he reverses the acoustic approach of their last album, Home Late. There are still fleeting moments of twang in Elk’s foundation, but they’re more of a psych- and soul-tinged pop band in the vein of mid-period Beatles, Zombies, Meddle-era Pink Floyd and Big Star’s first two albums. Luoma’s languid double-tracked vocals on “Storm of the Century” sound a bit like the Morning Benders’ Chris Chu, but the combination of crystalline guitars, banjo and moments of steel are late-60s California production rather than pop-punk.

There’s a bounciness in the bass and drums that suggests the optimism that early-70s AM pop provided after late-60s psych and heavy rock overdosed. It’s like waking up on a sunny day after a long night of partying – you can still feel the drugs hanging on with its fingertips, but the bright light pulls you forward as the fog recedes. Elk does a magnificent job of creating this feeling in slow tempos, not-quite-awake vocals, gentle layers of organ and piano, drifting guitars and keening steel, shuffling drums, touches of vibraphone and ringing oscillators. That semiconscious state is exemplified in the album’s opener “Daydreams” as Luoma wrestles with his physical and spiritual drowsiness. In “Storm of the Century” the song ends with a heavy string arrangement and sliding guitar notes lightened by banjo and brought to daylight with the subliminal chirping of a bird.

The band shifts textures throughout the album and in multipart songs ala Brian Wilson. “Palisades” opens as an old-timey music hall tune before transitioning into a David Gilmour-styled vocal against a Mellotron-like backing. The processed voice returns in contrast with the neo-psych background, alternating with lush vocals that bound across the stereo stage. In between several of the songs one can hear faint music and ocean sounds as if the listener is on some misty yesteryear boardwalk; “Over the Pines” doesn’t so much end as it recedes into the waves. The band’s upbeat songs include the instantly hummable “Galaxy 12,” a meditation on a Smith-Corona typewriter’s inability to provoke a response from a correspondent or romantic interest; the song’s hook will have you singing along by the second time around.

The bouncy “I Don’t Want the Lies” has a melody the Paley Brothers might have cooked up in thinking about ‘60s pop bands like the Five Americans or Cyrkle. Luoma’s vocals and the multipart production invoke the West Coast production of Curt Boettcher. Tamarack Mansion will remind you of many things, but leaving you feeling that it sounds exactly like none of them. The neo-psych instrumentation is brightened by melodies that are both pop and country, and the touches of steel and banjo would more directly suggest Americana if they weren’t so radically recontextualized. It’s a truly fetching combination of melodies, moods and motifs that evokes and intertwines earlier bands and eras without copying them. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Galaxie 12
MP3 | Palisades
Stream Tamarack Mansion
Elk’s Home Page

Waylon Jennings: Folk Country / Waylon Sings Ol’ Harlan

Superb early RCA Waylon Jennings two-fer

Much is made of Waylon Jennings’ declaration of artistic independence and the outlaw country movement that flowed from it, but his company-produced pre-outlaw albums for RCA hold many charms of their own. Recording with both his own band and Nashville studio pros, and often backed by a female chorus, the music hasn’t the earthier charms of his later work, but his voice held a youthful innocence yet to be tinged by rebellion, and his songs, from Nashville songwriters and his own pen, are often memorable. Collectors’ Choice’s two-fer pairs his 1966 RCA debut Folk Country with his fourth RCA album, 1967’s Waylon Sings Ol’ Harlan.

The first of the two includes the chart hits, “Stop the World (and Let Me Off)” and Jennings’ original “That’s the Chance I’ll Have to Take.” Harlan Howard and Don Bowman provide the bulk of the album’s non-originals, with Jennings crooning through a broken heart on the former’s “Another Bridge to Burn” and stridently demanding attention on the latter’s “I Don’t Mind.” Producer Atkins gives the country a folky edge with touches of 12-string, tambourine and harmonica. Jennings may have come to feel that Nashville’s studio productions were a straightjacket, but at this early point in his career he really digs in and makes the best of what’s offered to him.

The two-fer’s second album highlights Jennings’ affinity for the works of Harlan Howard with a dozen works from the legendary songwriter’s catalog. A few of these songs were already iconic hits for Ray Price, Johnny Cash, Ray Charles and Buck Owens, but Howard’s writing is sufficiently rich to warrant multiple interpretations. Jennings takes “Heartaches by the Number” upbeat with twangy guitars that provide a more bemused outlook than Price’s sorrowful 1959 single. His take on “Busted” is not as spare as Cash’s nor as jazzy as Charles’ versions, “Foolin’ Around” is fuller than Buck Owens’ 1962 version, and “Tiger by the Tail” crosses Owens’ original with the rhythm of Johnny Rivers’ cover of “Memphis.” Waylon Sings Ol’ Harlan didn’t launch any hits, though Charlie Rich would score with “She Called Me Baby” seven years later and other tunes were recorded by everyone from Wynn Stewart to the Kingston Trio.

Both albums feature enthusiastic vocals by Jennings and the high-fidelity recording of RCA’s Nashville studio. Folk Country was reissued in 1998 by Razor & Tie but has been out of print for several years. Waylon Sings Ol’ Harlan makes its domestic CD debut here. Collectors’ Choice’s two-fer includes an eight-page booklet with full-panel reproductions of both album covers – front and back – and new liner notes by Colin Escott. You can find this same material (and a whole lot more) on Bear Family’s The Journey: Destiny’s Child, but unless you’re planning to soak up Jennings’ entire catalog, this domestic two-fer is the best way to introduce yourself to Jennings’ pre-outlaw years. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Elvis Presley: Elvis 75

Career spanning single CD skims the surface of Elvis’ greatness

This single CD, issued in celebration of Elvis Presley’s 75th birthday anniversary, includes twenty-five tracks selected from the more thorough 4-CD Elvis 75 Good Rockin’ Tonight. Much like the box set, this disc covers the length of Elvis’ career, including early sides for Sun, incendiary rock ‘n’ ‘roll for RCA, hits from the movies, post-Army comebacks, gospel, late-60s Memphis gems, live performances and later studio work from 1972. Unlike the box set, you’ll miss his pre-Sun acetate and his post-72 recordings. More importantly, each phase of Elvis’ career gets only one or a few cuts here, and the lesser known tracks that provide compelling context in the box set are dropped.

Obviously, a career as rich as Elvis Presley’s can’t be summed up in a single disc. Even his Top 10 hits won’t fit on a single CD, and there’s so much material beyond the charts that a fair hearing of the King’s catalog really takes multiple discs or sets. 30 #1 Hits painted a picture of Presley’s career through a recitation of his best-known hits; it’s a fair summary, as is the broader 2-1/2 CD Essential 3.0. But none of these short collections, this one included, provide enough depth on Elvis’ innovations, failures and resurgences to really essay the full arc of his career. A single disc such as this can serve as a map to an artist’s career, but it’s no substitute for a more thorough hearing.

What’s here is fantastic. From the early rave-up of Arthur “Big Boy” Cruddup’s “That’s All Right” through the deeply-felt “Always On My Mind,” Elvis is nothing less than brilliant. The disc is nicely programmed and plays well, but with so few tracks to provide context, you’ll have to figure out for yourself how Elvis got from “Viva Las Vegas” to “How Great Thou Art.” If you want to dig deeper, seek out the 4-CD box, or sets that survey his 50s, 60s and 70s masters, soundtracks, sessions at Sun and American Studios, his ’68 comeback special, and his numerous live recordings.

The disc is delivered in a two-section digipack featuring a pair of full-panel Presley photos. The 16-page booklet includes a short biographical essay by Billy Altman (seemingly excerpted from his much longer essay in the box set), additional photos, and recording and chart data. If you think you only need one disc of Elvis Presley’s music, this isn’t a bad place to get an earful, but be forewarned that it’s a gateway to a large catalog that you may find yourself unable to resist. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]