Socially astute singer-songwriter tours modern-day America
Born in Buffalo, just a few blocks from U.S. Route 62, Peter Case made his way to San Francisco to busk on the streets, then to Los Angeles where he spearheaded the late-70s power pop movement with the Nerves and Plimsouls. He’s since taken a more solitary road, touring with just his songs and guitar, gathering stories for his writing. Though not literally itinerant – he’s still homed in Los Angeles – his travels have traced the trails of those who inspire him. His latest collection of songs is titled after the northeast-to-southwest highway that runs through his hometown, and that his childhood eyes saw as a “connection to the world I wanted to live in, the American Westâ€
The productions step back to a folkier vibe from the electric blues of 2010’s Wig!, but retain the underlying power of drummer D.J. Bonebrake, and add the instrumental voices of guitarist Ben Harper and bassist David Carpenter. The songs wind through a variety of musical landscapes, just as Route 62 winds through Bobby Fuller’s El Paso, Buddy Holly’s Lubbock, Sonny Throckmorton’s Carlsbad, Woody Guthrie’s Okemah, Ronnie Hawkins’ Fayetteville, the Everly Brothers’ Central City, and Phil Ochs’ Columbus. The social consciousness of Guthrie and Ochs’ are evoked in the opening “Pelican Bay,†as Case questions the industrialization of America’s prisons and the particular harshness of solitary confinement.
A broader palette of social injustice is on Case’s mind as “Water From a Stone†segues between the travails of undocumented aliens, corporatism, global warming, the appropriation of Native American lands, rising eviction rates, crushing educational debt and outsourced manufacturing. Justice is called into question again in both “Evicted†and “All Dressed Up (for Trial),†with the latter suggesting that final judgment isn’t necessarily a mortal matter. That same leveling in the afterlife provides redemption for the existential lament “The Long Good Time,†and turns the gravesite of “Bluebells†into a pastoral place to leave behind one’s foibles.
Blue country soul from talented Raleigh, NC singer-songwriter
Raleigh, NC singer-songwriter Jeanne Jolly has a voice that you could only be born with. A naturally rich instrument whose nuances were brought out – rather than boxed – through classical voice training. There’s nothing mannered in her expression as she soars through the eight new recordings – and seven original songs – of her latest solo release. Produced by her longtime collaborator Chris Boerner and self-released on Jolly’s Ramblewood imprint, the album shows the sort of care and sophistication one can layer into projects that don’t have a major label’s commercial ambitions loitering in the control room.
The eight-piece studio band includes pedal steel player Allyn Jones, keyboardist James Wallace, Bon Iver drummer Matt McCaughan, and Megafun’s Phil and Brad Cook. Together they explore country, soul, and even a bit of Memphis with the horn chart and solace of “Gypsy Skin.†Jolly’s vocals reach past the notes (which for someone of her abilities, are table stakes) to hit every emotion dead center. She soars from intimacy to strength in a single note as she wrestles with the fatalism of “California†and declares her need on “Boundless Love.†The latter’s soulful background vocals – all supplied by Jolly – are particularly mesmerizing.
Richard Fariña’s songs reimagined for the new millennium
Richard Fariña’s untimely 1966 death silenced one of the folk movement’s rapidly blossoming voices. The albums he recorded with his spouse Mimi have survived in reissue [123] and anthology, but for many listeners, Fariña’s voice doesn’t come to mind until their ears are rung by the dulcimer of “Pack Up Your Sorrows†or stung by the protest of “House Un-American Blues Activities Dream.†His songs continue to find their way into the setlists and records of other artists, but for the most faithful, they’ve served as on-going guideposts. Two of those loyalists, Iain Matthews and Andy Roberts, co-founders of Plainsong, have been performing Fariña’s works on stage and in studio for more than forty years, and now come back together to pay a more consolidated tribute.
The trio, including Mark Griffiths, offers fifteen of Fariña’s songs, including the previously unrecorded “Sombre Winds.†They focus on the songs, rather than the Fariñas’ original performances, imagining how they might sound if written and recorded today. Well, that’s not entirely true, given the bluesy doo-wop treatment of “One Way Ticket.†Perhaps it’s fairer to say that this is the sound of artists who have so deeply absorbed these songs, they can turn them back out to the world in any number of interesting forms, converting the “Sell-Out Agitated Waltz†into soulful straight time, taming the agitated ask of “Pack Up Your Sorrows†into a placid invitation and turning “Hard Loving Loser†into a summery country tune. These broader interpretations show off both the material’s innate strengths and the the interpreter’s imagination.
Ted Hawkins was the perfect college radio artist: articulate, soulful, emotionally powerful and most importantly, an outsider. His hardscrabble life simultaneously limited the commercial growth of his career and defined the authenticity upon which his art rested. What made him a particularly interesting fit for college radio was that his music wasn’t outwardly challenging. It wasn’t discordant noise or expletive-filled speedcore; it was soulful folk music, made with guitars and keyboards, and sung in a style that threaded easily with more commercially popular blues and soul. But that was just the musical surface, and beneath the performance were songs unlike those written in Memphis or Detroit or New York, or even Hawkins’ adopted home of Los Angeles.
With his passing in 1995, his singing voice was silenced, but in the tradition of folk music, the songs he left behind continue to speak his truth. This first ever tribute to Hawkins gathers fifteen performers to sing Hawkins originals, and adds a bonus demo of Hawkins singing an a cappella demo of the otherwise unrecorded “Great New Year.†The performers include many well-known names, including James McMurtry, Kacey Chambers and Mary Gauthier, and like all tribute albums, the magic is in selecting the material, matching it to the right performers and finding interpretations that honor the original while adding the covering artist’s stamp. Co-producers Kevin “Shinyribs†Russell, Jenni Finlay and Brian T. Atkinson have done an admirable job on all three counts.
The collection’s most well-known title, “Sorry You’re Sick,†found a sympathetic voice in Gauthier, whose own battle with addiction conjures a first-hand understanding of the song’s protagonists. Kasey and Bill Chambers give the title track a Hank Williams-sized helpings of anguish and loneliness, and McMurtry’s leadoff “Big Things†is more resolute in its melancholy than Hawkins’ original. The latter includes the lyric “Now I’ve got a song here to write, I stay up most every night, creating with hope they’ll live on forever,†a dream that comes true exactly as McMurtry sings it. While Hawkins’ original performances hinted at twang, his lyrics of longing and loneliness are easily fit to full-blown country arrangements, such as the two-stepping barroom infidelity of Sunny Sweeney’s “Happy Hour.â€
Though well known during the Greenwich Village folk revival of the 1960s, Karen Dalton’s slim catalog of studio albums (1969’s It’s Hard to Tell Who’s Going to Love You Best and 1970’s In My Own Time) failed to create wider, long-lasting renown, even in reissue. Her weary, lived-in vocals are often likened to Billie Holiday, but her talents as a folk-blues singer, guitarist and banjo player were in many ways eclipsed by her talent as a musical folklorist. Dalton was a rabid collector of songs, a hobby (or habit) that dated back to her childhood, and her albums mixed songs drawn from the public domain, the blues and a wide range of contemporaneous material from Fred Neil, Tim Hardin, Richard Manuel, Eddie Floyd, Booker T. Jones and Motown’s Dozier-Holland-Dozier.
What few knew at the time is that Dalton was also a songwriter; one who eschewed her own material at a time that singer-songwriters were ascendant. With her 1993 death, a collection of notebooks passed to her longtime friend and her estate’s administrator, guitarist Peter Walker. Contained within these journals were writings, poems, drawings (some of which are reproduced in this set’s booklet) and, most importantly, song lyrics. Walker first pieced together the legacy of Dalton’s writing in the book Karen Dalton: Songs, Poems, and Writings. He now expands her legacy as a songwriter with musical versions of eleven titles, given melody and voice by a few of Dalton’s many artist-fans. Though not sung in Dalton’s voice, her words cast a spell on the melodies and performances. Her immortal presence turns out to be as strong as was her mortal being.
Sharon Van Etten opens the set with a somber, piano-based composition of the title song. She adds a Dalton-like waver to a few held notes, but it’s the harmony singing with Hamilton Leithauser that creates the performance’s most indelible moments. Patty Griffin leans more fully into the sort of blues wail that Dalton herself employed, with David Boyle’s organ swells accentuating a lyrical meditation on truth and beauty. Dalton often wrote about emotional illusion, seeking to peel away obscuring surfaces, and though she was a collector of songs, she was also a collector of experiences that fed the autobiographical tone of her songs, such as the Lucinda Williams-sung “Met an Old Friend†and Larkin Grimm’s “For the Love I’m In.â€
Billy Shaddox’s 2013 solo release, Golden Fate, threaded an Americana base with double-tracked vocals that echoed the country-inflected early ‘70s soft-rock of acts like Lobo, America and Gallery. His second album follows a similar path, mixing unabashed pop with rootsier fare that moves the banjo and guitar forward. Shaddox’s voice is a flexible instrument that sings dreamily on the opening title track, but adds a subtle husk for the shuffle “Feels Like Home.†The latter features stomping bass and a terrific electric piano solo before the accompaniment breaks down and reconstitutes itself.
Kinky Friedman returns to the studio, but not to songwriting
For rock music fans of the 1970s, Kinky Friedman was the oddest of guilty pleasures. Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen had drawn many to roots music with “Hot Rod Lincoln,†and then burrowed into the stonersphere with “Seeds and Stems (Again).†This led many listeners to country and folk, and with Friedman’s 1973 debut, Sold American, humor, satire and pathos, often at the same time. Even the names – “Kinky†and “Texas Jewboys†– implied a level of irreverence that didn’t prepare listeners for Friedman’s perceptiveness. His broad, comic approach often obscured the deeper layers on first pass, but his resolutions always turned out to be parable rather than punch line.
Following a trio of 1970s albums, Friedman released a 1983 solo effort, Under the Double Ego, and then turned to novel writing (with sides of politics and distilling) as his main occupation. He still performed, released a fewlivesets, and dropped in on his own tribute album, but it’s been 32 years since his last full studio collection. Other than the previously unrecorded title track (co-written with Tim Hoover, and dedicated to Tompall Glaser), the song list is all covers, selecting songs with special resonance from the catalogs of Willie Nelson, Tom Waits, Warren Zevon, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan and Lerner & Loewe. The latter, “Wand’rin Star,†was originally written for the stage musical Paint Your Wagon, and turned into a surprise UK hit single by film actor Lee Marvin!
At 70, Friedman’s voice sounds more aged than the decade-older Nelson’s as they duet on the opening “Bloody Mary Morning.†But that same weathering conveys a lifetime of wisdom gathered between Friedman’s 1970s originals of “Lady Yesterday†and “Wild Man From Borneo†and today’s covers. Friedman cannily interprets “A Christmas Card From a Hooker in Minneapolis†more as a hushed confession than Tom Waits’ Satchmo-inflected original, and he returns Zevon’s “My Shit’s Fucked Up†from its mortal ending to the lyrics’ original lamentation of aging. Mickey Raphael’s harmonica adds a mournful sound to several tracks, including a properly haggard rendition of “Mama’s Hungry Eyes.â€
A treasure trove for Steppenwolf and John Kay fans
Steppenwolf’s residual radio legacy – “Born to Be Wild†and “Magic Carpet Ride†– may fairly represent their brand of hard-rocking psychedelia, but it simultaneously over-represents their otherwise modest results as a singles band, and under-represents their enormous success as an album act. These two towering hits overshadow four years of gold-selling albums and a string of mid-charting singles that deserved a bigger stage. Real Gone’s two-disc set assembles Steppenwolf’s ABC/Dunhill A’s and B’s (except for “Monster,†which uses the full “Monster/Suicide/America†album track in place of the shorter single edit), alternate B-sides, and John Kay’s solo singles into a compelling recitation of the group’s lesser known singles and adventurous flipsides.
Beyond the two big hits, a few of the groups singles remain familiar. Their second release, a funky rock cover of Don Covay’s “Sookie Sookie,†failed to chart, but gained airplay on soul stations, their chilling take on Hoyt Axton’s “The Pusher†graced the opening scene of Easy Rider, and “Rock Me†closed out their top ten run in 1969. Nine more singles over the next couple of years brought some musical highlights, but only middling chart success, topped by 1969’s “Move Over.†AM radio was a big tent in the early ‘70s, and though there was still space for rock music, apparently the Doors, Who, Alice Cooper and Led Zeppelin had sharper commercial elbows than Steppenwolf. But even though the group’s singles stalled midway up the charts, their albums continued to sell and their popularity as a concert draw resulted in a gold-selling live LP.
The group’s B-sides often provided more musical reach than the A’s. Goldy McJohn’s signature organ provides an ominous underpinning, and John Kay’s gruff, bluesy vocal was well spent on producer Gabriel Mekler’s “Happy Birthday,†the original “Power Play†has a Dylan-esque meter and showcases then newly-added lead guitarist Larry Byrom, snappy horns were added to the instrumental B-side “Earschplittenloudenboomer.†and the arrangement turns acoustic for the string quartet backed “Spiritual Fantasy.†There’s was also a lengthy experimental instrumental, “For Madmen Only,†which was replaced as the B-side of Mars Bonfire’s “Ride With Me†by the more conventional “Black Pit.†The top sides had their adventurous moments, including the Kustom Electronics’ “The Bag†talk box used on “Hey Lawdy Mama†and a superb take on Hoyt Axton’s anti-drug “Snowblind Friend.â€
In 1972, Steppenwolf disbanded, and Dunhill retained John Kay as a solo artist. His work combined originals and covers drawn from a surprising range of sources, leading off with a heavy cover of Hank Snow’s “Movin’ On.†Kay also covered Hank Williams’ wounded “You Win Again,†Alan O’Day’s “Easy Evil†and Five Man Electrical Band’s “Moonshine (Friend of Mine).†Kay’s voice is easily recognized, but freed from the legacy of Steppenwolf’s “heavy metal thunder,†he finds resonance with Richard Podolar’s spacious and more gentle productions. The combination is particularly effective on Kay’s fine country, folk and soul-tinged originals “Walk Beside Me,†“Somebody†and “Nobody Lives Here Anymore.â€
The short version: A terrific collection that includes nearly all of the Four Seasons’ original albums and most of their biggest chart hits. Missing is an early Christmas album, a later album recorded for Motown, and a live reunion album. Also missing are a few hits and B-sides. All stereo, except for a handful of tracks. Rhino’s original release incorrectly substituted incorrect songs on two of the albums (see end of review for details). A worthwhile collection for those who want to get beyond the hits.
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More than fifty years after the Four Seasons first topped the charts with “Sherry,†it’s hard to remember just how incredibly successful they were. In addition to their manufactured battle with Vee-Jay labelmates, the Beatles, the group was an unstoppable hit-making machine through the end of the decade, and took a curtain call for a pair of 1975 hits. If that weren’t enough, their lead vocalist had a parallel career that saw him charting regularly as a solo artist, with his own encore for 1978’s “Grease.†Though they occasionally used material from outside writers, the bulk of the group’s hits came from keyboardist Bob Gaudio and producer Bob Crewe, and their arrangements were handled steadily by Charles Calello, who’d sung with Valli in the predecessor Four Lovers.
Between 1962 and 1970, the group released fifteen albums, including three each in 1963, 1964 and 1965, and despite the songwriting talent evident in the group’s hits, it was inevitable that the albums would be padded with lesser material. Which doesn’t mean that the album tracks were nothing more than an afterthought, but just that there are few – particularly on the early albums – that match the effervescent genius of the hits. The group’s harmonies and Valli’s leads are always superbly musical, and there are charming album tracks on every release. But listeners familiar with the hit-making Four Seasons of 1960s AM radio will only find that group scattered throughout this 18-disc collection. On the other hand, the albums reveal a compelling picture of the group’s growth from doo-wop roots to sophisticated conceptual material and adult contemporary pop.
Their debut album is bookended by the hits “Big Girls Don’t Cry†and “Sherry,†which takes a bit of the color out of doo-wop styled covers of the 1920’s standards “Yes Sir, That’s My Baby†and “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love,†as well as a cover of the then-contemporary theme from Never on Sunday. Still, there’s real charm in a cover of J. Lawrence Cook’s “Peanuts,†and the 50s-styled vocal drama of Neil Sedaka’s “Oh! Carol†is a hoot. The group’s early albums continued to follow the same template, with a couple of blazingly brilliant hits fleshed out with originals, Tin Pan Alley standards and covers of pop hits like “Silhouettes†(which, not coincidentally, was co-written by Bob Crewe in 1957), a peppy take on Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers “Why Do Fools Fall in Love,†and a rich vocal rendering of the Mello-Kings “Tonite, Tonite.â€
Many of the group’s covers are fairly obscure today, including Billy and Lillie’s “Lucky Ladybug,†the Shepherd Sisters’ “Alone†and the Snow White soundtrack’s “One Song.†Even when covering well-known material, the productions often added original touches, such as the whining organ and Latin rhythm on the Skyliners’ “Since I Don’t Have You,†the percussive backing vocals on Maurice Williams’ “Stay,†and a radically reimagined version of Fats Domino’s “Ain’t That a Shame.†Gaudio and Crewe wrote many interesting B-sides and album tracks, including “Soon (I’ll Be Home Again),†“That’s the Only Way,†“Melancholy†and “Don’t Cry Elena,†but occasionally dropped in filler, such as “Dumb Drum.â€
The Four Seasons label, Vee Jay, continued to release their records well into 1966, even though the quartet bid them farewell with 1964’s “New Mexican Rose†and the album Folk Nanny. The latter had nothing to do with the folk revival in sound or material, and was composed almost entirely of previously released recordings. The group had been banking material in advance of their departure from Vee Jay, and arrived at Phillips ready for a blistering chart run. “Dawn (Go Away)†was released as a single in January, and quickly followed by the folk-flavored album Born to Wander and the showcase LP Dawn (Go Away) and 11 Other Great Songs. The former included covers of Pete Seeger’s “Where Have All the Flowers Gone†and Phil Ochs’ little known (but quite stirring) “New Town,†as well as several Bob Gaudio originals that deftly melded touches of twelve string and banjo with Brothers Four-styled harmonies. Also included was the group’s original version of Gaudio and Crewe’s “Silence is Golden,†which would become a 1967 hit for the Tremeloes, and the Beach Boys pastiche “No Surfin’ Today.â€
The Four Seasons’ dalliance with folk music lasted for just one album, after which they returned to their earlier pattern with Dawn (Go Away) and 11 Other Great Songs: a hit single, covers of earlier doo-wop and vocal group hits, and a sprinkling of originals. As before, there were original touches in the cover songs, such as the revised melody line and twangy guitar of Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me†the odd rhythm backing and instrumental flourishes given to “16 Candles,†and the doo-wop falsetto meets marching beat arrangement of “Breaking Up is Hard to Do.†The group finally broke free of the 1950s with 1965’s Rag Doll, an album written entirely by Bob Gaudio and various partners. In addition to three hits  (“Rag Doll,†“Save It For Me†and “Ronnieâ€), there are many fine album tracks, including “The Touch of You,†originally waxed by Lenny O. Henry, the sweetly longing “Funny Face,†and forlorn “The Setting Sun.†In the face of the British Invasion, the Four Seasons showed they had the writing, performing, arranging and producing talent to compete.
1965 found the quartet stretching out with strings and show tunes (“Where is Love?†from Oliver and “Somewhere†from West Side Story) and returning to the ‘50s (“My Prayer†“Little Darlin’â€) on The Four Seasons Entertain You. The hits continued with “Big Man in Town,†“Bye Bye Baby (Baby Goodbye)†and “Toy Soldier,†though none reached the top ten; the album tracks include Gaudio and Sandy Linzer’s emotional “One Clown Cried,†and a rare songwriting contribution from bass vocalist Nick Massi, “Living Just For You.â€. The group’s second album of 1965, The 4 Seasons Sing Big Hits by Burt Bacharach/Hal David/Bob Dylan, split its sides between material from Bacharach & David and Dylan. The interpretations do little to improve upon the better-known original recordings (though the Latin beat given to “Blowin’ in the Wind†is interesting, if not quite fitting), and suggest the group’s creative braintrust had run out of fresh ideas.
The Dylan cover “Don’t Think Twice,†with a bizarre falsetto vocal, was released under the name of The Wonder Who, and (somewhat incredibly) just missed the Top 10. But it was the non-LP single “Let’s Hang On†(not included here) that showed the group still had some ace material up its collective sleeves. Before the group could return to making more hits, they detoured for Live on Stage, a contractual-obligation faux-live album of standards for Vee Jay. Though “Little Boy (In Grown Up Clothes)†was released as a single (and was one of the few tracks that had the hallmarks of the Four Seasons sound), it didn’t chart, and the album remains a stylistic oddity in the group’s catalog. 1966 found the quartet returning to form with the hit “Working My Way Back to You,†and the associated album is a sleeper that’s filled with excellent new material and crisp arrangements.
Working My Way Back to You sounds re-energized on the up-tempo numbers, and the group’s dabble with folk music seemed to have a lasting impact on the songwriting of Gaudio and Crewe as they offer up the socially conscious “Beggars on Parade†and Dylan-esque “Everybody Knows My Name.†The latter works much better with Valli’s falsetto than the actual Dylan songs they’d recorded earlier. The album also includes an early version of “Can’t Get Enough of You Baby,†released a year before ? and the Mysterians, and there’s a hint of psych in the intro of “Too Many Memories,†showing, along with some of the album’s instrumental touches, that the group was taking in contemporary influences. Despite having only one hit single, and three tracks repeated from The Four Seasons Entertain You, this is one of the best albums in the group’s catalog.
The surge of artistic energy seemed to pause for 1967’s New Gold Hits. The album’s major hit, “C’mon Marianne,†was accompanied by two minor singles, “Beggin’†and “Lonesome Road†(the latter credited to The Wonder Who), and though there are a few compelling album tracks, including the light soul “I’m Gonna Change†and tough B-side “Dody,†the album didn’t feel particularly fresh or coherent. Worse yet, Rhino’s mastering errors (or perhaps Curb’s on the mid-90s reissue) mistakenly left the latter two tracks off the initial release of this box set! The group would spend the next 18 months working on an answer to popular music’s shift to albums, and the result was the most adventurous long player of their career.
1969’s The Genuine Imitation Life Gazette is a concept album co-written by Bob Gaudio and Jake Holmes. Holmes’ 1967 solo debut, The Above Ground Sound of Jake Holmes, was a cult favorite, but contained two historically important tracks. Most infamous is his original version of “Dazed and Confused,†but it was the song “Genuine Imitation Life†that brought him into the Four Seasons’ fold. The resulting album’s adventurousness – both musically and lyrically – and integrity as a collection is unlike anything else in the group’s catalog. Gaudio and Holmes built a complete album, and the group performed with a continuity of expression and consistency of purpose that had never graced their singles-based long players.
The complexity and finesse of Gaudio’s production, particularly his integration of vocal harmonies, orchestral instrumentation and studio effects is truly impressive. The tip of the hat to “Hey Jude†on the title song’s fade is only one of the album’s many charms. The Who’s Tommy proved that concept albums could break through commercially in 1969, but Genuine Imitation Life Gazette was largely ignored, scraping into the Top 100 at #85, and failing to get into the singles chart with the pre-release “Saturday’s Father.†Most likely, the group’s AM radio fans weren’t looking for such adventurous music, and those open to these sorts of sounds and socially incisive lyrics weren’t looking to the Four Seasons to produce them. It’s very clearly the group’s high-water artristic mark, and remains an impressive record to this day.
The group’s last album for Phillips, Half & Half, benefited from their previous artistic growth, but alternating group harmony tracks with Valli solo cuts (hence the album’s title) yielded few memorable moments and little chart action. With the group’s inventiveness reigned in and Gaudio mostly giving way to outside writers, the results were polished and professional, but largely pedestrian. Highlights include Valli’s cover of Prairie Madness’ obscure B-side “Circles in the Sand,†the tight harmony vocal washes of “She Gives Me Light†and the group’s closing medley of “Any Day Now†and “Oh Happy Day.†With that, the group ended their association with Phillips, and two years later released Chameleon for the Motown subsidiary, MoWest. Though not a commercial success, and somewhat generically produced, it’s filled with Bob Gaudio originals, and worth tracking down, since it’s not included here.
While the Four Seasons’ hit-making had wound down in the first half of the 1970s, Frankie Valli’s solo career had been revived by 1974’s chart-topping “My Eyes Adored You†and the follow-on “Swearin’ to God.†But in 1975 the Four Seasons returned to the charts with “Who Loves You†and the chart-topping “December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night).†As per their earlier releases, the album Who Loves You was constructed around the hit singles (which also included an edit of the album’s rolicking opener, “Silver Starâ€), with new material from Gaudio and his wife Judy Parker. As the group’s last helping of commercial chart success, the hits are memorable, and Gaudio’s production is complemented by strong lead vocals split between Valli and drummer/vocalist Gerry Polci.
The comeback was not sustained, and the follow-on Helicon closed out the Four Seasons’ two album run on Warner Brothers without a great deal of inspiration. The modern production touches that had added a winning touch to “Who Loves You†now sounded a bit stiff and perfunctory. The growling bass, synthesized keyboards and piercing guitars sound sterile in comparison to the group’s earlier records, and at odds with their warm harmonies. The single “Down the Hall†made its way to #65, and though the lead vocal is fetching, the production is distracting. Even “New York Street Song,†with its opening streetcorner harmonies gives way to disco rhythms.
Eight years later, Valli and Gaudio updated the Four Seasons sound once again for 1985’s Streetfighter. The mid-70s disco was replaced with competently synthesized mid-80s pop-rock, and though it would have fit easily into the pop mainstream, no one was biting. Sandy Linzer (who’d penned the mid-60s hits “Dawn (Go Away),†“Let’s Hang On†and “Working My Way Back to Youâ€) wrote many of the album’s originals, and though his melodies were filled with hooks and his lyrics winningly positioned Valli as a scrappy, love-lorn underdog, his production choices haven’t aged well. A remake of the Monotones’ “Book of Love†is particularly egregious as it reaches back to the group’s doo-wop roots and buries them in keyboards, synthesized drums and primitive samples. The album closes with a pair of ballads that survive their 80s-isms.
The group’s last album (to date!), 1992’s Hope + Glory, continued to chase modern pop styles with highly synthesized arrangements (and rap from guest Chuck Wilson), but as with Streetfighter, the album didn’t click commercially. Valli’s voice still offered its unique range and qualities, and Gaudio could still write fetching melodies, but neither the songs nor the electronic productions matched the era’s best. If you could strip these tracks of their 1990s productions, you’d no doubt find some emotional resonance in the songs (“You and Your Blue Heart†seems like a good bet), but awash in driving drumbeats and cold, angular synthesizers, there’s little to love here. Worse, circling back around to the start of the box set, you realize how far the Four Seasons had traveled from their down-to-earth streetcorner roots.
This box set is a terrific journey, filled with high points and reinvention. Those looking to relive the Four Seasons they know from the radio are better off with a hits collection; but those wanting to dig deeper will find many gems among the album tracks. That said, this isn’t nearly a complete rendition of the Four Seasons catalog, as it’s missing two key studio albums (1962’s The Four Seasons Greetings and 1972’s Chameleon), live albums (including 1981’s Reunited Live) and numerous non-LP singles and B-sides. Also missing (and anthologized in a separate box set) are Frankie Valli’s solo albums. Given the distinctive qualities of Valli’s voice, the use of the Four Seasons to back many of his solo tracks, and the intermingling of Four Seasons and Valli hits on the charts, listeners didn’t always separate Valli’s records from his groups.
Session players necessarily take a back seat to the artists whose music they help create. A few, like Jerry Reed and Glen Campbell, gain their own stardom, and others, such as Motown’s Funk Brothers and the Muscle Shoals Swampers, gain renown even as their work remains seen in fragmentary measures. It’s only the rare, credit-reading fan who pieces together the full breadth of a studio musician’s work, and traces the connections of a player’s career through otherwise unconnected sessions and records. And even then, there are surprises to be learned, as album credits and studio logs aren’t always complete or accurate. Documentaries have told the stories of the Funk Brothers, Swampers and Wrecking Crew, but for every studio player who’s gained a moment in the spotlight, there are hundreds whose stories are told only through records labeled with other people’s names.
This collection tells the story of how Nashville’s session players, songwriters and producers came to collaborate on a broader stage in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. At the time, Nashville wasn’t alone in building a studio culture dependent on sidemen, but it had built one of the most effective vertically-integrated music making machines. Nashville combined writers, producers, engineers, record labels, studios and stars with a handful of A-list players whose speed and precision belied their agility and creativity. That system’s artistry was expanded by the injection of outside influences, spearheaded by Dylan’s 1966 sessions for Blonde on Blonde. In the wake of Dylan’s collaboration with Charlie McCoy, Kenny Buttrey and Wayne Moss, Nashville opened itself up to new partnerships and non-Nashville artists came looking to expand their musical horizons.
In 1969, Dylan and Cash’s mutual admiration resulted in sessions that yielded the commercial release of “Girl From the North Country†on Nashville Skyline, but they also seem to have stoked Cash’s desire to collaborate outside the Nashville sphere. Through his ABC television show, taped at the Ryman from 1969 to 1971, Cash brought numerous artists to Nashville, forging on-stage musical collaborations (such as Derek and the Dominos performance of “Matchbox†with Cash and Carl Perkins), and brokering introductions that survived the show. Most notable was Neil Young’s work with steel player Ben Keith, bassist Tim Drummond and drummer Kenny Buttrey, who can all be heard prominently on Harvest, including the hit single “Heart of Gold.â€
Several pop and folk artists, including the Beau Brummels and Ian & Sylvia, found artistic renewal in Nashville, and others, highlighted by Michael Nesmith’s “Some of Shelly’s Blues†(featuring the superb steel guitar of Lloyd Green), the Byrds’ “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere†and “Hickory Wind,†and Ringo Starr’s “Beaucoups of Blues†were freed to follow musical interests that had previously been held in check by various concerns. Simon & Garfunkel got sounds out of Nashville that were neither country nor what they had been producing back home. As with Neil Young’s long-term collaborative relationship with Ben Keith, Simon & Garfunkel developed a relationship with legendary guitarist Fred Carter, Jr. that continued long after they returned to recording in New York City.
Socially astute singer-songwriter tours modern-day America
