ALICE COOPER: Muscle of Love. Alice Cooper (vocals and instrumentals). Woman Machine; Hard Hearted Alice; Muscle of Love; Man with the Golden Gun: Never Been Sold Before; Working Up a Sweat: and three others. WARNER BROS. BS 2748 $5.98. M8 2748 $6.98, © M5 2748 $6.98.
Performance: Good
Recording: Good
I have amended my opinion of Alice Cooper to the extent that I think they have improved as a band-time does work wonders--but, though their arrangements are getting more interesting and their performances are professional, Cooper's outfit is not markedly distinguishable from dozens of other bands playing a mixture of hard, jazz, and sneer rock. Cooper's is a show band: they play music as an excuse to appear on stage, which is where the real money is. The studied, choreographed outlandishness of the band, the dabblings with transvestism, evil, and violence, and the dubious historical achievement of opening the closet for other hard-core deviate groups all make for packed halls and very successful albums.
But there is very little music here. Cooper could (and does) record any ten songs, pack age them with a "suitable" album cover to fit the group's image, and lo! something to take to market. The cover on this one shows the band dressed as sailors, hanging around one the those seamy San Francisco parlors where the local newts go to see naked ladies wrestle each other. There are all sorts of gamey little scenes to be portrayed, so Cooper will probably never run out of cover ideas. But I, for one, just hope Cooper's popularity, and that of all the other "glitter-rock" groups and per formers, runs out before the cover ideas do.
J.V.
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Explanation of symbols:
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= eight-track stereo cartridge
= stereo cassette
= quadraphonic disc
= reel-to-reel quadraphonic tape
= eight-track quadraphonic tape
= quadraphonic cassette
Monophonic recordings are indicated by the symbol.
The first listing is the one reviewed; other formats, if available, follow it.
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TONI BROWN---Clean vocals and impressive potential.
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BEACH BOYS: In Concert. Beach Boys (vocals and instrumentals). Good Vibrations; Surfin' USA; Sail On Sailor; Caroline No; Help Me Rhonda; Leavin' This Town: Sloop John B.: Wouldn't It Be Nice: Marcella; California Girls: and ten others. BROTHER/ REPRISE 2RS 6484 two discs $9.98, K 86484 $9.97. K 56484 $9.97.
Performance: Erratic
Recording: Likewise
Despite a recent interview given by Beach Boy grey eminence Brian Wilson. in which he indicated that this album was a turkey being issued by the rest of the boys over his pro tests, I had high hopes. As anyone who has seen one in the last few years knows, Beach Boys concerts are among the most satisfying musical experiences going, and on the basis of the live tracks they have previously released (notably the English-only "Live in London" and a version of Wouldn't It Be Nice from the Celebration soundtrack) I saw no reason to expect that their live sound wouldn't be re produced here with a measure of accuracy.
Well, Brian was right and I was wrong: this album is a legitimate disappointment. The recording is muddy and abysmally balanced, and what one can hear of the performances suggests that they are pretty uneven as well.
With the exception of a sizzling, hard-edged rendition of Marcella (their great flop single of 1972). there's nothing here that can't be heard to better advantage on their studio albums, or, for that matter, from a good seat at their next show. I strongly recommend that you buy a ticket with whatever bread you've put away to purchase this set. The Beach Boys are much, much better in concert than this album indicates.
-Steve Simels
BIG STAR: Radio City
(see Best of the Month )
TONI BROWN: Good for You, Too. Toni Brown (vocals, piano): Tommy Cogbill (bass): Billy Sanford, Reggie Young (guitars): other musicians. Good for You, Too: I Loved You All the Time; Everything Comes in Time: Wild Bird; The Devil and Willie Mahoney: Hang On to Your Happy Days; Big Trout River; and three others. MCA-386 $5.98, MCAT-386 $6.98, MCAC-386 $6.98.
Performance: Promising, still
Recording: Very good
First there was Joy of Cooking, then Toni and Terry, and now there's just Toni-but all this sloughing off of names hasn't changed the sound much. That's because Toni did most of the songwriting all alone, and there's something ... distinctively forgettable about her songs. She may be the kind of song writer who has to choose between being prolific and being good. and has temporarily chosen to grind them out--I do recall one song she did with Terry Garthwaite that was more than just catchy and didn't explode in a puff of minty nothingness when you bit down on it. I would suggest that Toni does not clearly see just how much potential she really has. Most of these songs are nicely constructed, as usual, but also-as usual-tend to hover about that helter-skelter tempo Joy of Cooking loved so well, and to recycle the same melodic ideas so many times that one can be mesmerized into missing the lyrics' references to getting divorced and going to seed and making pacts with the devil and all sorts of groovy things. Big Trout River would be pretty impressive if one hadn't heard a disjointed mosaic preview of its melody by the time it comes under the needle, and it would be more impressive still if one could believe Toni would heed its- her- words and back off a bit from the hubbub in order to write slower and better. Her singing is clean and pretty, though not yet stylish, and the backing here is passable, though some of it is done by the numbers. Toni Brown's potential continues to be considerably more impressive than her work. N.C.
RECORDING OF SPECIAL MERIT
CANNED HEAT: One More River to Cross. Canned Heat (vocals and instrumentals). One More River to Cross; L.A. Town; I Need Someone; Bagful of Boogie; You Am What You Am; and four others. ATLANTIC SD 7289. $5.98, TP 7289 $6.97, CS 7289 $6.97.
Performance: Jumpin'
Recording: Very good
Last time I heard Canned Heat they sounded tired and bored. Maybe it is a result of their label change (the same thing happened to Sinatra in the early 1960's), but here they are now with a peppy, confident album that contains some of the most danceable, groin grinding music in many moons. Not only is the band in great shape, but they are given glorious support by four local talents from Muscle Shoals, Alabama, where the sessions were held.
The title tune is a tight little rocker distinguished by Henry Vestine's guitar and Ed Beyer's overdubbed organ and piano work.
Ronnie Eades' baritone sax pushes the band along much as the nameless bari-man did in the original Little Richard band from New Orleans. I'm a Hog for You, Baby, a Mike Lieber-Jerry Stoller classic, is given a Latin treatment featuring "Fito" de la Parra's tim bales and a lazy, undulating guitar riff by Ves tine. You Am What You Am, a meaty track, has some scat singing in it that sounds as though Canned Heat's been listening to Sivuca or Airto, Brazilian jazz musicians who've been floating around the country and occasionally making records. The band charges joyfully into Shake, Rattle and Roll (what a grand tune that is!) and gives it a straight sure fire reading. Finally, there is We Remember Fats, which is a medley of Fats Domino hits, but for some reason "Bear" Hite, starting the medley with The Fat Man, sings the melody to Lloyd Price's Lawdy, Miss Clawdy.
Canned Heat has certainly been rejuvenated. This is quite possibly their best album. No wonder the decorative swan on the inside cover looks like it's doing the cakewalk. J.V.
CARPENTERS: The Singles 1969-1973. Richard and Karen Carpenter (vocals and instrumentals); various orchestras. We've Only Just Begun; Yesterday Once More; Sing; Superstar; For All We Know; and seven others. A & M SP 3601 $5.98.
Performance: Golly!
Recording: Superb
Although they still strike me, depressingly, as the fictive offspring of a screen marriage be tween Robert Young and Doris Day (and about as representative of what young people are in 1974, or want to be, as Andy Hardy), I must admit, after listening to this survey of their single chart-poppers from 1969 to 1973, that Richard and Karen Carpenter have something besides chutzpah.
What they have (and oh boy, do they ever) is a brand of complete professionalism that would daunt General Motors, abash Streisand, and probably awe even my friend Herr
---- CANNED HEAT Peppy, confident, and danceable.
Doktor Uwe Undsoweiter, who, in his Black Forest laboratory, makes ball bearings so small that they are invisible to the naked eye.
Invisible to my naked ear is the difference between one track and another here; the songs become only batter for the waffle iron of the Carpenters' performances. In the five years covered there is almost no sign of growth, nor even any apparent search for it.
Relentlessly cheerful, relentlessly upbeat, relentlessly clean-cut, they barge through the speakers like a pair of unwelcome Rotarian conventioneers. Surely this deodorized parody of what older people would like to think younger people are must offend some of the kids who are trying to get someone to listen to them and to stop sneering at the way they choose to dress or to conduct their sexual lives.
In themselves there is nothing malignant about the Carpenters; they are, after all, only performers (and I say "only" because of what I hear in this album-the stasis is that of people far beyond their years, and so I can only account for it as don't-mess-around-with-a-good-thing) and are wise enough, in the show biz sense, to follow the arc of a big-money career.
What I do object to is equating any per former with God, Flag, and Country. It was ridiculous when it was done with Kate Smith and Bing Crosby, and it is ridiculous now.
The Carpenters and their performances are not really the point. The point is that entertainment is entertainment, and no more should be read into it than the degree to which it entertains you. As you may have gathered, I don't much care for the Carpenters, but my saying that doesn't mean I'm out to corrupt anyone. It is very sad that people so often confuse issues in an attempt to project their own identities through performers. Dylan's recent gallop through a series of sold-out concerts and his incredible new recording deal with Asylum-Elektra show that the older, middle and upper-middle brows are quite as gullible as Osmond Brothers fans, Carpenters fans, or Bobby Vinton fans. To me, it all seems a bit foolish. But that's show-biz. P.R.
VIKKI CARR: Live at the Greek Theatre. Vikki Carr (vocals); orchestra. Love Song; Lean on Me; It Must Be Him; Y Volvere; Se Acabo; and eighteen others. COLUMBIA KG 32656 two discs $6.98, GA 32656 $7.98, GT 32656 $7.98.
Performance: Spotty
Recording: Good
A warm and luscious-looking woman with a voice to match, Vikki Carr has yet to make an album that captures her talent fully. I had hopes for this one, since it was taped at a live performance and I thought that the audience contact might thaw what seemed a certain stiffness and show-biz glare that marred her previous recordings. It does happen once or twice here, particularly in a lovely medley of Spanish songs in which Carr is so good, so instinctively relaxed, yet in command, that the album as a whole seems even more disappointing. Partly the production is at fault; when will they learn that there are only a handful of performers whose audience chit chat is worth including in the released recording? And partly it is the bad choice of material. Whoever convinced her that she should sing a medley of Judy Garland hits as her next-to-closing smasheroo set piece must have had his taste buds removed. It sounds as incongruous as Joan Baez doing Ethel Mer man's Greatest Hits.
When the subject matter is keyed to her very real and womanly temperament, though, as in It Must Be Him or Can't Take My Eyes Off of You, Carr comes through as a refreshing anomaly on the pop scene: a truly female-female singing about an adult woman's life (the only other lady around capable of that is Peggy Lee). In these songs and in the Spanish ones she resists what is to me a distressing tendency to belt, and the result is always convincing and often lovely.
Isolated spots here show that Carr is an excellent performer who has yet to conquer microphone technique for recordings and whose act needs to be thought out and focused in on what she does best. Better luck next time. P.R.
HARRY CHAPIN: Short Stories. Harry Chap in (vocals, guitar); Ron Palmer (guitar); John Wallace (bass); Michael Masters (cello); other musicians. Short Stories; W*O*L*D; Song for Myself; Changes; They Call Her Easy; Mr. Tanner; and four others. ELEKTRA EKS-75065 $5.98, ET-85065 $6.98, TC-55065 $6.98.
Performance: (sigh)
Recording: Very good
Harry Chapin's still at it, and I suppose a certain kind of unhappy soul somewhere is still underlining his lyrics and writing "how true" out in the margin. These songs are briefer than his last batch, and I appreciated that until I figured out it meant there were more of them. One is about a guy who got married and became an FM disc jockey on the same day-some day, huh?-but later fell from grace, deserting his little family to become an AM jock, and things are so bad now that he's get ting bald and has "a tire around my gut from sitting on my ---." (The blank is Harry's.) Another discusses a girl who believes in free love and is called Easy and, of course, has a heart of gold. Another is about a man who ran a dry cleaning place in Dayton, Ohio, and also sang ("He practiced scales while pressing tails," Harry tells us, in that poetic way of his) until he was talked into getting up on the stage in the big city and got shot down by the critics, who wrote, "His voice lacks the range of tonal color necessary to make it consistently interesting." That language, you understand, is woven into a song lyric. Then there's the one about this guy in the Old West who's about to take delivery on a mail-order bride.
If one could believe Harry were putting everybody on, one wouldn't feel so inhibited about inhaling when this thing is on the turn table. But Harry sounds so earnest: his melodies are too contrived to permit speculation that he's indulging in fun and games, and his voice--which, frankly, lacks the range of ton al color necessary to make it consistently interesting-is seriouser than you and I will ever have to be, with any luck at all. The arrangements are nice, though-love that cel lo-and if one listens to this one without really listening, one reaches the point that he could swear that . . . that somewhere . . . somewhere a dog barked. N.C.
THE DILLARDS: Tribute to the American Duck. The Dillards (vocals and instrumentals); John Hartford (fiddle); Josh Graves (dobro); other musicians. Music is Music; Caney Creek; Dooley: Love Has Gone Away: You've Gotta Be Strong: and five others. POPPY PP-LA 175-F $4.98, PP-EA 175-G $6.98.
Performance: Good
Recording: Very good
The Dillards, now, weren't a bad idea--a country-rock band whose country side wasn't warmed-over Buck Owens, but bluegrass. It's still a good band, though it's suffering a bit of wear and tear, but this edging further and further into rock is causing problems and choppin' up the old personality all over the place.
You've got this one band doing Caney Creek rock-style, and, quicker 'n a man (or a gal, for that matter) can say Jack Robinson, you've got this entire other band doing Dooley blue grass-style, with practically no country in the first and practically no rock in the second.
The thing that's supposed to hold it together, I suppose, is Rodney Dillard's lead singing and it is pretty good, but in too subtle a way for this particular job. And anyway, quicker 'n a person could say .lack Robinson again, there's a neo-Band-type arrangement, with a weird bass line, doing Love Has Gone Away.
If the album were truly successful I would call it eclectic (and how!), but it only manages to be fragmented. The elements are better than the whole, you understand; the arrangements are intelligently done, and the instrumentation is fine (I particularly like Dean Webb's mandolin). Perhaps, if the material were stronger, it could take this shotgun approach, but the only song that might really knock people out is Carry Me Off, which is magnificently per formed. Something simple, like reinstating the mandolin and banjo in some of those long periods in which they're now silent, and building a bit more on the vocal harmonies, might put matters back into focus. It's a good band, just a bit aimless.
[And so, by the way, is the art research: bird expert Eric Salzman has advised us that the duck on the cover is not American at all but Pekin-that is to say. Chinese.--Mits. Ed.] N.C.
JONATHAN EDWARDS: Have a Good Time for Me. Jonathan Edwards (vocals, guitar, harmonica): Bill Keith (pedal steel, banjo); Bill Elliot (keyboards); George Grantham (drums, vibes); Richard Davis (bass); other musicians. Have Yourself a Good Time for Me; King of Hearts; Places I've Been; I'm Alone; Travelin' Blues; Rollin' Along; Angelina: and four others. ATCO SD 7036 $5.98, TP 7036 $6.98, CS 7036 $6.98.
Performance: Short –falling
Recording: Very good
The impression I first had of Jonathan Edwards, based simply on his sound, was that he was short: five-foot-seven, somewhere around there. Soon after. I saw him in the flesh, and he isn't short at all (unless his side men are all midgets), but I still catch myself looking up at the radio and thinking, "Ah, there's Shorty Edwards." It's a bother, I can tell you, getting this sort of thing straightened out, but perhaps there's something to be learned from it. Could it be that Edwards' vocals have the quality of-you know hunching down and not showing their full height? He has a distinctive, husky sound, that's for sure, but listen to the way he sings Jimmie Rodgers' Travelin' Blues and tell me whether his main concern is the content of the song or the style of Jonathan Edwards' vocals. The combination of Edwards' vocals and his songwriting would be better grounds for these wild-goose chases, but he didn't write any songs for this album. Most of them here are by Eric Lillequist and Joe Dolce. They're just so-so, and Edwards' backing musicians, who have been so crisp and clean in the last couple of albums, are a trifle-well, not sloppy, exactly, but content to play it as it lays.
Edwards' harp playing, always fast, is improved here, sounding sometimes like Charlie McCoy but consistently sounding cleaner than it once did, and the break he takes in Travelin' Blues. all but cancels out his preoccupied-sounding vocal. I'm Alone is a nice song, and there are several easy-setting, semi-country moments scattered around in this thing, but it isn't quite the calibre of work I expect from ol' Shorty Edwards. N.C.
ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA: On the Third Day. Electric Light Orchestra (vocals and instrumentals). In the Hall of the Mountain King: Bluebird Is Dead: Oh No Not Susan; Showdown; Daybreaker; Dreaming of 4000: and four others. UNITED ARTISTS UA LA188-F $4.98, UA-EA188-G $6.98, UA-CA188-G $6.98.
Performance: Spotty
Recording: Excellent
Imagine someone trying to duplicate the feel of "Sergeant Pepper" by overdoing that al bum's orchestrations. Imagine further that this someone adds a touch of the eerie Manfred Mann sound of the late Sixties, and imagine still further that the someone-named Jeff Lynne-sings like Paul McCartney and writes as poorly as McCartney writes nowadays. That is mostly what the Electric Light Orchestra is about, but not all.
The musicians in the band are good. Three of them are excellent-Richard Tandy (keyboards, moog), Mike Edwards (cello), and Mik Kaminski (violin). They are all at the beck and call of Lynne, who also plays guitar and produced the album. (And, by the way, I don't know whether it is to his credit or the studio engineers', but the technical sound of the album is astonishing-it practically leaps out of the speakers.) None of the material is memorable, but it's interesting to listen to the musicians try to prop up Lynne's wobbly songs. The best cut is ELO's version of Grieg's In the Hall of the Mountain King from the second Peer Gynt Suite. After hearing so many rock groups play at classical music it is pleasing to hear one that actually plays it. If Lynne started writing some good material the band could be a killer. J.V.
J. GEILS BAND: Ladies Invited. J. Geils Band (vocals and instrumentals). Did You No Wrong; I Can't Go On; Lay Your Good Thing Down; The Lady Makes Demands; Diddy-boppin'; Take a Chance on Romance; and four others. ATLANTIC SD 7286 $5.98, 0 TP 7286 $6.98, CS 7286 $6.98.
Performance: Very good
Recording: Good
I was overjoyed by the last Geils album, "Bloodshot," where the band had a whooping good time satirizing other groups and styles.
They do not exactly take themselves seriously this time around, but they sing their satires straight. Their rare and precious sense of fun is very seldom in evidence: not until the middle of the second side do we get Diddy boppin., another episode in the adventures of a band that has characterized itself as sweetly sleazy rogues. There are, alas, far too few Moments in this album-such as the double time segment in the middle of The Lady Makes Demands where the band gets hot and really rocks. Most of the album demonstrates what a very fine band they are, but I kept waiting for them to open up.
Groups are subject to different moods and various pressures, but I hope J. Geils isn't going to go self-conscious or straight: at their best they are delightfully crooked. I knew another fine band once that often expressed themselves through satires of other styles and groups: their manager said, "We do unethical things sometimes." I hope J. Geils continues to use their talent for being unethical. God forbid they plump for normalcy. J.V.
BILLY JOEL: Piano Man. Billy Joel (vocals and keyboards); orchestra. Stop in Nevada; Captain Jack; Piano Man; You're My Home; and six others. COLUMBIA KC 32544 $5.98, 0 CA 32544 $6.98.
Performance. At times striking
Recording: Excellent
Composer-performer Billy Joel's new album has several striking bands, among them the title number, a really brilliant piece of work.
Piano Man is a highly dramatic song, beautifully constructed and performed, about the patrons of an O'Neill-type bar, each sunk in dreams of glory about his future: the piano man himself, who hopes to be a movie star; the insurance man convinced that he is a novelist; and many others caught in the web of self-delusion. It's very strong stuff, and sung by Joel in a strong, attractive voice that has just the right bittersweet edge. Nothing else here comes up to that song or performance, but there are moments in Captain Jack and in Ain't No Crime that pulsate with the same intensity.
At the moment Joel has two problems: the similarity of approach in performance and orchestration from band to band, and an occasional inability to pare down the central thought of his lyrics. However, this is an al bum that certainly deserves attention, if only for the superb Piano Man track. P.R.
SCOTT JOPLIN: Ragtime Music (see Classical Discs and Tapes )
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BILLY JOEL Strong stuff with a bittersweet edge
CLEO LAINE: Live!!! at Carnegie Hall
(see Best of the Month)
CHARLIE McCOY: The Fastest Harp in the South. Charlie McCoy (harmonica); Jim Isbell and Ken Buttrey (drums); Don Smith and Henry Strzelecki (bass); Pig Robbins and David Briggs (piano); Ray Edenton, Chip Young, Grady Martin, Jim Colvard (guitar); Josh Graves (dobro); Bobby Thompson (banjo); other musicians. Silver Wings; Why Me; Paper Roses; You Are the Sunshine of My Life; Almost Persuaded; The Fastest Harp in the South; Release Me; and four others. MONUMENT KZ 32749 $4.98.
Performance: Too easy
Recording: Spacious
I don't know of any harp player who is-and I know of few dead ones who were--technically sharper than Charlie McCoy, but I can think of some who make better recordings.
Charlie insists on two conditions: that the tunes be instantly recognizable and that work be provided for as many Nashville sidemen as he can cram into the studio. This always means his harp is the solo voice before a rather large band on a tune that has already been played just about every way it can be played-and, unfortunately, heard just about all it can be heard. Although it still comes out better than this formula should, by rights, permit-Charlie's albums never fail to pro vide a cut or two that are a godsend to country-music radio programmers scrabbling around for decent instrumentals-Charlie's work in his solo albums doesn't compare to his work behind the various singers who re cord in Nashville. His harp is the fastest one in the South, but his sound is heavily stylized, more distinctive than expressive, and needs something outside itself to set up the context for it; it simply works better when it can bounce off a lead singer than when it has to be one. There are about a ton of good pickers here, all swashin' around, and some abortive vocals are patched in occasionally. It isn't all a case of the forest obscuring the trees some particularly neat work is turned in by Josh Graves (dobro), Jimmy Colvard (guitar), and Jim Buchanan (fiddle). Essentially, though, the album shows the puffy blandness that results from too heavy a commitment to formula, that comforting embrace that be comes an imprisoning bear hug. McCoy doesn't need such trifling security. N.C.
BLIND WILLIE McTELL: Death Cell Blues. Blind Willie McTell (guitar and vocals). Atlanta Strut; Painful Blues; Talkin' to Myself; Broke Down Engine; and twelve others. Bio GRAPH BLP-C- 14 $5.98. (Available by mail from Biograph Records, P. 0. Box 109, Canaan, N. Y. 12029.)
Performance: Vintage country blues
Recording: Clean transfers
Blind Willie McTell made an impressive number of recordings between 1927 and 1956, but he was never considered one of the top blues men and it wasn't until recently that blues writers gave him more than a passing mention. This collection is culled from recordings made between 1929 and 1933 for the Columbia, Okeh, and Vocalion labels, recordings that sometimes appeared under such pseudonyms as Georgia Bill and Blind Sammie. With two notable exceptions it is a good collection, featuring a vibrant, thirtyish Mc-Tell delivering absorbing slices of life to his own masterful guitar accompaniment, but it is also a collection we could have done without at this time.
Only four selections in the album are not currently available in other albums, and two of these--Experience Blues and Painful Blues--give us McTell in the secondary role of accompanist to Ruth Mary Willis, a third-rate singer not worth reissuing. This album was made under a lease agreement with Columbia, and my point is that even if the twenty-five unissued McTell sides belonging to Columbia no longer exist, there are at least eight others that have never appeared on LP. Even two more duplications would have been better than those horrid Ruth Mary Willis sides. C.A.
GRAHAM NASH: Wild Tales. Graham Nash (vocals, piano, guitar, harmonica); Tim Drummond (bass); John Barbata (drums); other musicians. Wild Tales; Hey You (Looking at the Moon); Prison Song; You'll Never Be the Same; And So It Goes; Grave Concern; and four others. ATLANTIC SD 7288 $5.98, TP 7288 $6.97, CS 7288 $6.97.
Performance: Neato
Recording: Very good
Well, I've heard wilder tales from the parson's wife, but this is a good album anyway. Graham Nash still isn't a very stylish singer, but he somehow gets more character into these interpretations than I expected, and he's be coming interesting as a songwriter. An affinity for minor chords (he used to go with Joni Mitchell) comes in handy here-if I'm not mistaken, he plays a minor-key-tuned harmonica a time or two, and it stands as an idiomatic triumph, even if he does play it like an amateur. The instrumentation is a bit dull in spots, but surprisingly well done overall; in Another Sleep Song, everything is done the hard way, taking off from a fiendishly tricky syncopated rhythm scheme, and the boys bring home the glories. The song is my favorite in the album. I think Nash could have sung it better-he sounds a little strained in, ac cording to the lyrics, the wrong places-but I doubt if they, or many other people, could play it any better. Prison Song, inspired by that great humanitarian state of Texas and its pot laws, is one of the best topical songs I've heard since the last time something bothered Tom Rapp, and Oh Camil (The Winter Soldier), whose anti-war lyrics sound somewhat recycled, has ingratiating progression and pace to it. I Miss You, on the other hand, is awfully weak, a few others are a bit frumpy, and there's nothing really very exciting happening. It's a good album to listen to, though, in several moods, and should clear up any remaining doubts about Nash's fitness as a solo performer. He's got some things to say, and he says them pretty well. N.C.
RECORDING OF SPECIAL MERIT
GRAM PARSONS: Grievous Angel. Gram Parsons (vocals); Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt (harmony vocals); James Burton, Herb Pederson, Bernie Leadon (guitars); Byron Berline (fiddle, mandolin); Glen D. Hardin (keyboards); Emory Gordy (bass); others. Return of the Grievous Angel; Hearts on Fire; I Can't Dance; Brass Buttons; $1000 Wedding; and five others. REPRISE MS 2171 $5.98.
Performance: Excellent
Recording: Very good
The late Gram Parsons was a member of the International Submarine Band, the Byrds, and the Flying Burrito Brothers, all of which were excellent country-rock bands. This is his second and, unfortunately, last solo album. Par sons wrote exceptional ballads and kick-up tunes with strong lyrics and was one of the lights of country-rock. The style is an urban development, coming from the end of the folk boom of 1958-1964, in part as a defensive reaction to the rock-and-roll steamroller brought on by the Beatles. Country-rock was a valid alternative to pretending to be British or lovingly emulating black blues.
The songs here are just fine. Brass Buttons is an appealing tune that can be done in sever al styles; it would make a very satisfying jazz ballad. Return of the Grievous Angel is a good story song-so good that it brings off the old clichés of goin'-down-that-highway. In My Hour of Darkness (harmony vocal by Linda Ronstadt) owes something melodically to Gotta Travel On, cut by the Weavers fifteen years ago, but it's a good lay hymn. Las Vegas is a witty, jumping thing, and the band, excel lent throughout the album, cooks madly here.
GRAM PARSONS A once-shining light of country-rock.
There are two live selections, showing Parsons as a warm fellow who enjoyed his audiences: his own Hickory Wind and the Louvin Brothers' Cash on the Barrelhead. Love Hurts and Hearts on Fire are both excellent efforts, deep ballads that could get bathetic if the singer didn't know how to handle them, but Parsons did. I Can't Dance is the charming, shy, Tom T. Hall song that everybody takes at a fast tempo (including Hall) when it should be done at a medium pace. Parsons' speedy version has a muscular solo by James Burton and some pumping piano by Glen D. Hardin. The song reminds me of the late Gene Vincent's version of Boppin' the Blues from his last album. De spite Be-Bop-A-Lula, Vincent, like Parsons, was always a country singer. What a shame these two men are gone! J.V.
BILLY PRESTON: Everybody Likes Some Kind of Music. Billy Preston (vocals, keyboards), instrumental accompaniment. Every body Likes Some Kind of Mukir: Space Race; You're So Unique; My Soul Is a Witness; Minuet for Me; Listen to the Wind; Do You Love Me?; and five others. A & M SP-3526 $5.98.
Performance Fluent
Recording: Very good
Billy Preston is a very capable keyboardist, singer, and writer who has played with all sorts of famous people in the last three years.
He was relatively unknown until he went to England and was given equal billing with the Beatles on the Get Back single. Since then he has tried very hard to be a star, and stardom has been predicted for him. Somehow it hasn't come off. There isn't any logical explanation for his lacking such status, except that status depends on an emotional x factor that the public senses. Certainly other artists who are considerably less talented than Preston have been canonized, even if you limit the form to the "black music" which Preston normally goes beyond.
He tries hard, though, and his music is generally pleasant. On this album he puts little guttural curlicues on lyric lines that suggest he's been listening to Stevie Wonder. He leaps nimbly from songs that are technically gospel, blues, rock, and jazz, but are all homogenized into a kind of floor-show jazz. For all his efforts and hopes, Preston is not the amazing performer/personality he would like to be, but he is solid and good and this album won't do anyone any harm. J.V.
RECORDING OF SPECIAL MERIT
PROCOL HARUM: Exotic Birds and Fruit. Procol Harum (vocals and instrumentals). Nothing but the Truth; Beyond the Pale; As Strong as Samson; The Idol, and four others. CHRYSALIS CHT 1058 $6.98.
Performance Excellent
Recording: Good
I would have nominated this for a Best of the Month, but on reflection I've decided that when I did so with Procol's last album I somewhat overrated it, and so I'm going to hedge a little on this one. I really like it, you see, but it strikes me as perhaps the least accessible record they've made, and if three weeks from now I decide that it isn't really all that good, I'll have covered myself.
That bit of critical candor aside, I can re port that "Exotic Birds and Fruit" is probably the most straight-ahead rock-and-roll album they've done since their debut effort, and in many ways it's equally impressive. As usual, B. J. Wilson's drumming continues to defy belief, Brooker's singing is marvelous, and the band overall is very strong. Another plus is the production by Chris Thomas, which is simply splendid, perhaps the best the band has ever been afforded. There's little of the overripe pomposity that marred "Grand Hotel"--no orchestras or celestial choirs, just a lot of sizzling playing recorded in such a way as to make the greatest impact.
The songs themselves, however, seem strangely uninvolving (although I felt the same way initially about "A Salty Dog"), and Keith Reid's lyrics strike me, for the first time ever, as downright uninspired (notable exception: Fresh Fruit, a hilarious paean to the de lights of "the finest food on earth," which should be pulled as a single and quickly). But I'm beginning to get glimmers from things like the luscious fade-out to New Lamps for Old, so like I said, I'm going to hedge. Buy it any way--Procol Harum is a remarkable band, and even when they're operating at less than their best, they're still worth hearing.
-Steve Simels
BURT REYNOLDS: Ask Me What I Am. Burt Reynolds (vocals); orchestra. Childhood; Till I Get It Right; Slow John Fairborn; Ask Me What I Am: and seven others. MERCURY SRM- 1-693 $5.98, MC8-1-693 $6.98, MCR4-1-693 $6.98.
Performance Okay
Recording Tailored
Super Stud sings! Who said you can't get to be a star by taking your clothes off? Burt Reynolds, who had been around for years as a sort of poor man's Brando, doffed his duds for Helen Burley Girlie (or whatever her name is) and posed for the centerfold of her magazine. Oh frabjous day! The offers came pouring in. This album is simply the latest spin-off for what is now one of the hottest commercial properties in the business.
But, since I like and admire the lack of seriousness with which Reynolds views himself, I'm glad to report that this recording is a thoroughly professional job. Reynolds seems to have spent a lot of time and care on it, and the album is not one of those casual rip-offs that the suddenly celebrated are apt to commit on an eager public. Much of what is good here is a result of sensitive and evocative production by Bobby Goldsboro and Buddy Killen, which cushions Reynolds over the rough vo cal spots. The songs form a loose sort of auto biography (I would guess), and Reynolds tries to act them out as best he can. He is best in Childhood and A Room for a Boy Never Used, which have a gruff sincerity and a rather poignant mood. She's Taken a Gentle Lover is the big surprise: it recounts the tale of a lady who gave up Burt for-are you ready?--another lady. The last band, I Like Having You Around, features Burt and an unidentified Southern woman who ought to be making albums of her own.
The giant poster included with the album shows Reynolds in a cowboy suit and with his hat on. That may come as a disappointment to his fans, but I don't think that these performances will. This is a thoroughly creditable job by a likable actor. P.R.
CHARLIE RICH: Behind Closed Doors. Charlie Rich (vocals, piano); the Nashville Edition (backing vocals): the Jordanaires (backing vocals): instrumental accompaniment. Be hind Closed Doors; If You Wouldn't Be My Lady: You Never Really Wanted Me; A Sun day Kind of Woman; Peace on You; The Most Beautiful Girl; I Take It On Home: and four others. EPIC KE 32247 $5.98, EA 32247 $6.98.
Performance: Precision pap
Recording: Excellent
Bob Tubert's liner notes, heavy with drug store profundity on the subject of fame, push the idea that Charlie Rich would rather hide away in Benton, Arkansas, than enjoy all this notoriety as one of the real big studs of country music. There's something to that: many country stars, with such a success as Lonely Weekends under their belts, even if it was back in the Fifties, would be blind from flash bulb glare by now. But Charlie did take the trouble to answer some inane questions for the making of a little "bonus" record stuck in with this album, and I saw an article some where recently in which Charlie apparently said he'd always thought of himself as a jazz singer, or something like that, and I believe he even showed up in such places as Bobby Goldsboro's syndicated television show, which I suspect is secretly being produced by Bobby Goldsboro's hair designer. So watch out when dealing with simple country folk, lest they pull some sly old-boy stuff on you.
The thing about this album, coming as it does in the thick of Rich's winning three Country Music Association awards for 1973, including Male Vocalist of the Year, is that it isn't a country album at all. Rich swings at the keyboards a time or two, and his singing has a textural integrity that won't be denied, but the whole thing is much too polite and frilly and slick. The fact that Rich, who's into this kind of thing, and Roy Clark, who's into it even worse, were the big country-music award winners of the year must mean something about where "official" Nashville's head is during these troubled times in which nobody seems to know just what the country-music audience wants. This album is flat, predictable, and innocuous--which is not at all like my impression of Rich himself. Come on, Nashville, get a grip on yourself. N.C.
TEX RITTER: An American Legend. Tex Ritter (vocals and guitar); instrumental accompaniment. Jingle, Jangle, Jingle; Jealous Heart; There's a Nov Moon over My Shoulder; I've Done the Best I Could; I'm Wastin' My Tears on You; Green Grow the Lilacs; I'm Gonna Leave You Like I Found You: and twenty-four others. CAPITOL SKC- 11241 three discs $12.98. 8X3 K-1 1241 $11.98.
Performance: Easygoing and endless
Recording: Good
Tex Ritter, described in the literature accompanying this three-record set as a man who believed in "the virtues of flag, God, home and personal courage," died on January 2 of this year. It was an event for which Capitol records was ready, having assembled this spoken and sung autobiography in the nick of time. As a tribute, it almost does itself in by sheer bulk.
Ritter was a folk singer who first came to
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TEX RITTER Country music's ambassador to the world attention in the Theatre Guild production of Lynn Riggs' Green Grow the Lilacs on Broadway in 1931, before it became Oklahoma. He played the lead cowboy and sang four Western ballads. In 1932 he was starring on WOR radio, New York, in The Lone Star Rangers as Maverick Jim. Later he went to Hollywood and made sixty Westerns, introducing songs like Rye Whiskey and Bad Brahma Bull and riding a white horse. His pictures were rated, year after year, among the top ten money-making Westerns. He went on from there to the Grand Ole Opry, but didn't make it to the U.S. Senate: he ran and lost in 1971.
But what about the album? Mr. Ritter's hits, early and late, from Jingle, Jangle, Jingle to Blood on the Saddle, High Noon, and I Dreamed of a Hill-Billy Heaven are all on hand. But Capitol also has plundered its vaults to dredge up a good deal that can only be described as filler. And only the most de vout of Bible Belt fundamentalists will be able to bear with equanimity Mr. Ritter's World War II religious recitation Deck of Cards or his pious rendition of The Pledge of Allegiance. Then, too. Mr. Ritter had a pleasant but not particularly wide-range way with a song.
He is heard singing thirty of them on these three discs, and there is not a remarkable distinction in tone from one to the other.
According to the liner notes, Ritter really wanted to be a lawyer. One suspects that what he wanted deep down to be was a raconteur; before every single number he drawls out some rambling autobiographical chapter in his long career as minstrel, actor, singing cowboy, and ambassador of country music to the world at large. This takes a good deal of time, and is rather stupefying, like a talk show with no commercials and no end. Too much of a fair thing. P.K.
DEL SHANNON: Live in England. Del Shannon (vocals, guitar): instrumental accompaniment. Runaway; Little Town Flirt; Hats Off to Larry; Swiss Miss; Coopersville Yodel:
Handy Man; Kelly; Hey. Little Girl: Keep Searchin': and five others.
UNITED ARTISTS UA-LA151-F $4.98, U A-EA151-G $6.98.
Performance: Evocative
Recording: Okay
I haven't had a good tribal memory in years, but Del Shannon gives me an extended flash.
He conjures up Illinois nights, speeding along the highway in my father's Thunder bird, contemplating the five-kiss date I had that night-and on the radio Shannon is singing Runaway. (I think the girl must have lived in Kenilworth.) This recording was made "live" during Shannon's 1972 tour of Great Britain, where he is much admired (London is the head quarters for this international fan club). It is good to have these facsimile versions of Shan non's hits available again, for the original is sues (cut for the defunct Big Top label) have long been out of print or scattered in various "golden goodies" retreads. I say "facsimile" versions because John Mac's Flare Band, which backs Shannon, has entirely re-created the sound of the originals; it is commendable mimicry. Shannon had and still has a flexible voice, cool and clean in the middle register, with a Midwestern accent (he is from Grand Rapids, Michigan). He does a showpiece Coopersville Yodel, with its accelerated tempo, and Hats Off to Larry and Runaway-for which the audience keeps yelling-both have the musitron solos that were part of their original appeal. He does very well with Roger Miller's Swiss Miss and not too well with Roy Orbison's Crying (the tune and Orbison's performance are a little too hammy for Shannon's style). The recording does not have the balance of the originals: the sax section is some times lost and the drummer is too much up front, but these faults may be due to the technical limitations of taping in the Princess Club where he was performing.
There's nothing novel about this collection, but there doesn't need to be; Shannon is singing his hits and other material as well as or better than he ever did. (I wonder if that girl still lives in Kenilworth.) J.V.
GRACE SLICK: Manhole. Grace Slick (vocals, piano, rhythm guitar); David Freiberg (guitar, keyboards, vocals): Paul Kantner (guitar, vocals); Craig Chaquico (guitar); John Barbata (drums): other musicians. Jay; Theme from the Movie 'Manhole': ,Come Again? Toucan; It's Only Music: Better Lying Down; Epic (#38). GRUNT BFLI-0347 $5.98 BFSI-0347 $6.98, BFKI-0347 $6.98.
Performance: Faking it?
Recording: Good
It's titles and lyrics like this that prompted the
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old wives in my neighborhood to claim that anyone who listens too closely to Grace Slick will grow hair on the palms of his hands. Of course I don't think such primitive nonsense could inhibit me when I'm alone with this consenting adult album, but I'm not satisfied with it. Our relationship leaves me sort of smothered, you know? I don't think Grace gave her best in creating it; she does a whole side of music written by other Jefferson Air plane crewmen-and even stays out of one selection, It's Only Music, altogether, letting Paul Kantner sing and other people play-and their melodies never were as interesting as her own, and still aren't. The Spanish trappings of her own fifteen-minute title song are awkwardly grafted on, and her vocals too often lazily pull out old tricks that have already been used too much in too little time. The voice is still gorgeous, of course, and full of promises too intriguing to just walk away from, so I'm hanging around to see if this al bum has a sister. N.C.
SONNY & CHER: Live in Las Vegas, Vol. 2.
Sonny & Cher (vocals); orchestra. Superstar; I Got You Babe; You and I; Where You Lead;
and eight others. MCA MCA2-8004 two discs $9.98.
Performance: In a rut
Recording: Poor
Listening to four sides of Sonny and Cher ambling through their Vegas act on a ram shackle and clacking live recording isn't exactly my idea of a fun evening with TV's leading fun couple. How many more of Sonny's jokes about Cher's nose or Cher's jokes about Sonny's lack of endowment am I supposed to laugh at? How does one make up for the visual element, lost in a recording, of Cher's bizarre but amusing costumes and her wonderfully delayed long-takes? How does one overlook the plain fact that they really don't sing very well? And, most of all, where is their early charm? At one point, in one of their "comedy dialogues," Cher spits at Sonny, who has been toying with her Indian costume, "If you do that again I'll deck your ass, and I mean it!"-and, unfortunately, she sounds as if she does. Lamely, Sonny picks it up with "That's an old nautical expression," and the show goes on. There are several other sections where the needling seems to turn into mutual harpooning. For all I know this is their customary language of love, but it makes me uncomfortable. Their singing remains only an adjunct to what's known in the business as a "flash act." I still like them on TV, but there too I notice a creeping kind of malice in their exchanges. I am sure that such other professional fun couples as Lucy and Desi or Burns and Allen had their difficult moments, but they never came out in performance.
The recorded sound here is a mess-at times so closely miked you can hear ice cubes rattle, at others as if it were done from the parking lot. There is also a persistent crackle that even the inanely laughing and cheering audience never quite blots out. Overall, this is an album for marriage counselors and Sonny & Cher's staunchest fans. P.R.
RECORDING OF SPECIAL MERIT
IKE AND TINA TURNER: Nutbush City Limits. Tina Turner (vocals); Ike Turner (keyboards, arrangements): instrumental accompaniment. Nutbush City Limits; Make Me Over; That's My Purpose; River Deep, Mountain High; Daily Bread; You Are My Sunshine: and four others. UNITED ARTISTS UA-LA180-F $4.98, UA-EA180-G $6.98, UA-CA180-G $6.98.
Performance Tough and true Recording: Good Ike and Tina Turner seem to be the Nick and Nora Charles of rock-and-roll. If the reference is hazy to those under thirty, the Charleses are the main characters of Dashiell Hammett's The Thin Man, which is supposedly a detective novel (and a good one) but is really the story of one of the world's most successful marriages. The Charleses are bright, witty, funny, tough, professional, and fascinated with one another, and they have a talent for living. That is also, I think, a fair description of the Turners.
I was a little confused about this album.
The advertisements for it say it is autobiographical, and in an interview Tina Turner revealed her belief that she is a reincarnation of several other people. I could not understand how they could devote a whole album to both thrusts. It turns out they haven't done either completely, but have included a little of both.
Nutbush City Limits is about Tina Turner's small hometown in Tennessee. Make Me Over, written by Ike (who produced, arranged, and plays keyboards and synthesizer), is about Tina's ambition to get out of the sticks and into something better or to be reincarnated as something better. That's My Purpose, written by Tina, is about reincarnation and the direction of life by a higher power.
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The rest of the album is more or less a collection of tunes assembled to make up an album's worth. Not that the material is bad or the renderings helter-skelter-a Turner(s) performance is always interesting because Ike is a great organizer and director and because Tina has one of the most remarkable voices in pop music as well as a scorching personality.
River Deep, Mountain High, which they originally recorded in the Sixties under Phil Spector's direction (its failure to be a smash hit, though it was a hit, caused Spector to re move himself to England in one of his famous huffs) shows that the tune itself and Tina's vocal never depended on Spector's now-worshipped "wall of sound" concept, which was really aural overkill, a Hollywoodish big for-big's-sake approach.
To go back to the Charleses for a minute, and as an example of the Turners' chemistry:
I was sure that Get It Out of Your Mind (about a woman who wants her man to respect her and will not be his sometime thing) was written by Tina: I was equally sure that Daily Bread (about just getting along), which is almost Cole Porterish in its sophisticated savvy about everyday worries, was written by Ike. Nope. Just the opposite is true. It reminds me of the scene in the The Thin Man where Nick and Nora are confronted by a gun-waving doper. Nick bops Nora on the jaw to get her out of the line of fire and simultaneously lunges for the goon, whom he decks. The cops pile in, and wake up the goon and Nora, who says on being revived: "You damned fool, you didn't have to knock me cold. I knew you'd take him, but I wanted to see it." Just that kind of give and take is what makes a Turner album worth hearing. J.V.
COLLECTIONS
BOSTON POPS ORCHESTRA: Salute to Disney. Boston Pops Orchestra, Arthur Fiedler cond. Mickey Mouse March. Robin Hood: Medley. Mary Poppins: Medley. Song of the South: Zip-A-Dee-Duo-Doh. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs: Fantasy. Pinnochio: When You Wish Upon a Star. The Happiest Millionaire: Medley. POINDOR PD 6021 $4.98.
Performance: Cheerful earful
Recording: Big Sound
Sugar and spice and everything nice are the ingredients of this latest piece of cake from Arthur Fiedler's musical confectionery: the music is so sweet you can practically eat it.
The parade of tunes from Disney movies is served up brightly decorated by a team of arrangers who employ the orchestral equivalents of those tubes the pastry chefs use to squeeze out pink and green rosettes on the icings of birthday cakes, and a party atmosphere prevails. It's fun, but after a while all but the littlest listener's teeth are liable to ache from the sweetness of it all.
Snow White and her dwarfs call forth the best-arranged medley in the album, a fantasia put together by Frank Churchill that stands out like the best-dressed little girl at the party.
It starts out with Heigh Ho as the dwarfs march off to work and concludes with Whistle While You Work, and it twinkles all the way.
The rest of the contents range downward from there to Richard and Robert Sherman's score for The Happiest Millionaire. A medley from that amusing movie concludes the proceedings, but the music was not its strong point, and the butter-cream in it seems to have soured. P. K.
Also see: