Terrific mid-70s Memphis country, rock and soul back in print
The U.S. Top 40 is a fickle mistress that rewards one-hit wonders of many stripes. One such stripe is the talented band with a long history and deep catalog who, due to complications of label politics, promotion, distribution or simply the herd-like buying patterns of the record buying public, only manages to strike a single hot iron. Such was this superb Memphis band, whose 1975 debut single, “Third Rate Romance,” cracked the Top 20, but whose follow-ups fell shorter. They had better luck on the country charts, where their soulful sound produced two more hits, “Amazing Grace (Used to Be Her Favorite Song)” (#10 country, #72 pop) and “The End is Not in Sight (The Cowboy Tune)” (#20 country, #42 pop). All three appeared on the group’s debut and sophomore albums, which are anthologized here along with the non-LP B-side “Mystery Train.”
Achingly beautiful second coming of UK progressive folk-rock
This South England trio describes their debut as “outsider folk,” and while it certainly bears strong influences of Pentangle, Fairport Convention and others of the UK’s ’70s folk-rock movement, several of the tracks also compare to the winsome tone of Big Star. The opening “Sunken Ships,” in particular, echoes the feel of Chris Bell’s 1970s solo work, itself no doubt influenced by what was then happening in the UK. The self-produced recordings, made in their home-built studio, have the sort of crispness in the picked acoustic guitars and intimacy in the vocals that Big Star achieved at Ardent. Apart from the writing, playing and singing – all of which are impressive – the recordings sound gorgeous.
Another great side from the Truth & Soul label, featuring a terrific vocal by Nicole Wray and a throw-back arrangement whose waltz-time creates an easy Southern groove. Fans of the Black Keys may already know Wray from the BlakRoc album. You can download the single (below) through July 26, and you can find the album here.
At 65, Willie Nile sings with the perspective of age but the fire of someone a third his years. He’s leapt over long gaps in his recording career with his rock ‘n’ roll heart still beating strong, and starting with 2006’s Streets of New York, he’s spun out a remarkable string of albums. It’s as if the first twenty-five years of his career (starting with his self-titled 1980 debut) were just a warm-up for this latter-day outpouring of music. His latest album is charmed; having started as a fan-funded Pledge Music project slated for independent release, the funding goal was reached in four days, and pledges topped out at three-times the initial target. But before the album even hit the market as an indie, it was picked up by the Sony-distributed Loud & Proud.
The most vital rock ‘n’ roll has traditionally been the province of callow youth. The unleavened zeal of the young experiences everything in the immediate and ranks them as zeros or ones; there are few intermediate ratings and no view toward the horizon. Their downs are the end of the world, and their joys are the next big thing. By the time they’ve developed the personal history to give their experiences context, they’re saddled with sufficient life baggage to obscure the immediate moments. In contrast, there are many musicians who age gracefully, deepening their music over time, but few who manage to retain the passion of their early years amid spouses, children, mortgages and other accoutrements of middle age. Neil Young’s done it, Bruce Springsteen too, and Willie Nile may have topped them both with his latter-day vitality.
Though he’s clear of youth’s blind enthusiasms, Nile remains a stalwart optimist. He writes anthems that invite the listener into the rock ‘n’ roll fraternity to dance, sing along or just feel the energy. Even when he takes it down to the mid-tempo acoustic shuffle of the title track, the awe in his voice resounds with the excitement of discovery. Nile’s written many love letters to his adopted home, but the Big Apple’s opportunities are particularly near and new in “Sunrise in New York City,” and the details of “Bleecker Street” could only be cataloged by someone who’s become a native. The album’s lighter moments include the rockabilly swing of “Say Hey” and the irreverently imagined “God Laughs,” each perfectly paced within the track list.
The second collaboration between singer-songwriter Jeffrey Foucault and poet Lisa Olstein is more musically upbeat than their self-titled 2011 release. The band returns with its original lineup of Billy Conway (drums), Jeremy Moses Curtis (bass), David Goodrich (guitar, piano) and Alex McCollough (pedal steel), though their music is more forceful and electric than the contemplative folk-blues of their first outing. Foucault rises to the occasion with soulful and impassioned vocals, but his easily imbibed melodies and the band’s rootsy playing can find itself at odds with the impressionism of Olstein’s lyrics. “Necessary Monsters,” for example, rolls along on the drums’ shuffle and terrific bursts of blues guitar, but if the lyrics have a sad story to tell, they’re not giving it up easily.
Rare and previously unissued tracks from the Paisley Underground
The Three O’Clock was a pillar of a rich mid-80s scene (“The Paisley Underground”) that included the Rain Parade, Dream Syndicate, Bangs, Green on Red, Long Ryders and others. Having started out as the Salvation Army, the renamed and expanded lineup of the Three O’Clock lowered their punk-rock buzz and heightened their flower-power pop chime for an EP (Baroque Hoedown) and LP (Sixteen Tambourines) produced by Earle Mankey for the Frontier label. Their first LP for I.R.S., Arrive Without Travelling edged away from the more overt psychedlia, and garnered MTV spins with the up-tempo “Her Head’s Revolving.” A second album (Ever After) and one for Prince’s Paisley Park (Vermillion) continued to polish the group’s sound, and, ironically, sound more dated than these more retro early works.
In celebration of the band’s recent reunion (which included shows at Coachella, an appearance on Conan and a short tour), the group’s drummer, Danny Benair, has put together this collection of odds and sods. The track list spans the band’s early years, from their inception as The Salvation Army, through their two albums on Frontier and their first release  for I.R.S. Although there are a few original EP and album sides, the track list focuses mostly on alternate versions, demos, lost session tracks, fan club singles and compilation appearances. Even if you’ve collected the previously released material (including the Radio Tokyo appearance of “All in Good Time,” the fan club original “In Love in Too,” covers of “Lucifer Sam” and “Feel a Whole Lot Better,” and a beautiful Michael Quercio arrangement of the Latin hymn “Regina Cæli”), the alternates give insight as to how material developed into its final form, and the demos and session tracks broaden the picture of the band’s progress.
A prime example of how tracks grew in the studio is an early mix of “When Lightening Starts” that’s still in need of the final version’s horns and higher-energy organ riffs. Similarly, the alternate take of “A Day in Erotica” has a harsher feel, with a harder guitar and without the vocal overlay that softens the song’s mood. In contrast, the raw version of “In My Own Time” sounds tougher without the brass added to the final mix, and stands interestingly on its own. Other changes show the band fixing problems and stretching their imaginations. The original version of “On My Own” features strings that were deemed off-pitch and replaced by keyboards, and a finished alternate take of “I Go Wild” reels in the signature bass line and uses guitar solos in place of keyboards.
The turn of the twentieth century was a tumultuous time for the music industry. The sheet music boom of the 1890s was giving way to the sale of phonograph records, and records would in turn be challenged by radio. But through these transitions, one thing remained constant: hit songs. But hit songs were becoming increasingly transitory idols, one replacing the next in a procession of quickly forgotten multi-platinum (that is, multi-million selling) favorites. A select few managed to stick in the public’s long-term memory, but many more remained extant only in printed form, waiting to be rediscovered by musical explorers. Such explorers are producers Paul Marsteller and Gabriel Rhodes, who have reanimated nineteen turn-of-the-century songs – both familiar and obscure – with a hand-picked crew of singers and instrumentalists.
Unlike a tribute that reconsiders a songwriter, performer, label or scene, this collection aims at framing an era of music making. It’s not a slavish reproduction – the vocals occasionally shade to phrasings that didn’t exist at the time these songs were written – but by limiting themselves to instruments in use at the time, the producers have created a general impression of the times in which these songs were originally heard. And by cherry-picking their vocalists, Marsteller and Rhodes have nicely matched voices to song. Richard Thompson and Christine Collister open with one of the collection’s most easily remembered tunes, “The Band Played On.” Listeners will quickly discover that while the title line flows easily from their memories, the lyrics seem brand new to their ears. Thompson’s theatrical vocal is a perfect fit for the circus-style melody, and Garth Hudson adds terrific accordion flourishes.
Terrific mid-70s Memphis country, rock and soul back in print
