Category Archives: classic rock

STATUS QUO – Picturesque Matchstickable Messages

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In 1967, Britain was in the midst of a psychedelic musical revolution: The Beatles released an undeniable classic in ‘Sgt Pepper’, Steve Winwood’s Traffic released the rather more cult ‘Mr Fantasy’, while The Jimi Hendrix Experience and Cream fused a psychedelic spirit with blues influences on their respective albums, ‘Axis: Bold as Love’ and ‘Disreali Gears’. By 1968, the psychedelic vibe had started to fade slightly, although it was the year in which The Zombies released ‘Odessey and Oracle’, which despite poor sales at the time, is possibly the greatest piece of British psych-pop. In that same year, Status Quo released their debut, ‘Picturesque Matchstickable Messages’.

‘Pictures of Matchstick Men’ may feel like a well worn classic now and familiar to everyone, but what of the rest of that debut album? The opening track ‘Veils of Melancholy’ sounds rather like ‘Pictures of Matchstick Men’ with the notes played in wrong order, which probably says a lot about why it bombed when released as a single. But, while ‘Matchstick Men’ feels like a piece of late-sixties happiness, ‘Veils’ has an effect that’s slightly sinister. ‘When My Mind Is Not Live’ typifies the psych-pop movement, feeling like a Traffic and Tomorrow hybrid. ‘Gentleman Joe’s Sidewalk Cafe’ is rather more whimsical. Written by songwriter-for-hire Kenny Young (erroneously credited on occasion to Bob Young, who’d later be a regular Quo collaborator), this Kinks-esque number was originally scheduled to be the single. Although a decent album track, I’m not so sure about its single potential – they made the right choice releasing it on the flip-side of ‘Matchstick Men’. ‘Paradise Flat’, takes the psych elements slightly farther, complete with deep voice-over on the mid section. It’s hard to tell whether the voice over always sounded bad, or whether time has been unkind.

It’s interesting to note that Francis Rossi doesn’t play such a pivotal role on a lot of these songs, as he would in later years. Although the heavily phased guitars are important to the end product, it’s the electric organ which seems to dominate the early Quo’s multi-layered sound (courtesy of Roy Lynes, who remained with the band until 1970). Surprising as it may seem, the well-loved title cut isn’t the best track, nor is it the most psychedelic. That honour falls to Alan Lancaster’s ‘Sunny Cellophane Skies’. Rossi’s heavily treated guitar is the track’s driving force, coupled by multi-layered vocals, which evoke the period.

The album is padded out with cover material, all of which is more in keeping with 60s beat pop than psychedelia. In the 21st Century, that makes for okay listening for anyone with a liking for stuff of that retro style, but I suspect that in 1968, some of it felt a little ordinary. ‘Ice In The Sun’ and ‘Elizabeth Dreams’ (both written by Marty Wilde) are probably the best of the bunch with regard to the said cover material, while the Quo’s treatment of The Lemon Pipers’‘Green Tambourine’ isn’t too bad either. The cover of the Bee Gees’ ‘Spicks and Specks’ is horribly misjudged – while Gibb, Gibb and Gibb would prove themselves to be at the forefront of the songwriting masterclass, this isn’t one of their better late 60s tunes as it is, and it definitely doesn’t suit Status Quo.

‘Picturesque Matchstickable Messages’ contains some enjoyable music during its 34 minutes, even if it isn’t quite as inventive as some other albums of the period. The following year’s ‘Spare Parts’ followed a similar musical path, but had little commercial success. By the end of the decade, the psychedelic times were over. If Status Quo had thrown in the towel, they’d likely be remembered as one of Britain’s greatest cult bands.

[In 2009, ‘Picturesque’ was re-issued as a 2CD Deluxe Edition, featuring both mono and stereo mixes of the album as well as non-album singles and BBC Sessions. Also included are rare recordings by the pre-Quo band, in both their Spectres and Traffic Jam guises].

January 2010

KISS – Music From The Elder

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Throughout the late 70s, it seemed KISS could do little wrong. In the US, their albums sold by the truckload and fans filled large stadiums to witness their face-painted theatrics. In 1979, nodding towards then current musical trends, KISS added disco elements to their brand of hard rock. This seemed to be a good move, as ‘Dynasty’ became another top seller and its single ‘I Was Made For Loving You’ became one of KISS’s best selling singles outside the US. Attempts at re-creating a similar formula for 1980’s ‘Unmasked’ were less successful, despite a couple of stand-out tracks. Drummer Peter Criss quit the band mid way through the albums sessions and things were generally not as rosy.

It was time for a re-think. Very much in favour after his work on Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’, producer Bob Ezrin (who’d previously worked as producer on KISS’s 1976 fan favourite ‘Destroyer’) was bought on board to produce the next album – the overblown concept piece ‘Music From The Elder’.

‘Music From The Elder’ follows a half-baked story about a futuristic world and a battle between good and evil. It’s best to not concentrate too much on that and just take the songs at face value.  The songs themselves, don’t always feel like traditional Kiss songs – Ezrin’s orchestral arrangements and slick production swamps the album, as if he is the fifth band member here; this is obvious right from the introductory fanfare. His influence becomes absolutely unavoidable as Paul Stanley croons his way through ‘Odyssey’, which is pure musical theatre and not in the usual fun KISS style. Ace Frehley is said to have become rather unhappy with the musical direction ‘The Elder’ was taking but despite that, his contribution ‘Dark Light’ is quite strong, while Paul’s ‘The Oath’ demonstrates a hard rock style KISS would further explore on their 80s albums. The only track here which comes anywhere near the band’s previous anthem style is closing number ‘I’.
Gene’s lament ‘A World Without Heroes’ (co-written with Paul Stanley and Bob Ezrin, with a contribution from Lou Reed) and the more aggressive ‘Mr Blackwell’ are the essential tracks (it’s not very often you’ll find me picking Gene’s songs as KISS album highlights).

Upon release, many fans felt indifferent towards the album; sales were down and it marked the first time KISS did not tour. Some reviews were positive, though: Rolling Stone called the album ‘better than anything the band has recorded in years’.

Time has been kind to ‘Music From The Elder’. Ezrin’s production still sounds superb and musically, KISS are in good shape. Eric Carr makes his debut and turns in a good performance, despite supposedly sharing Frehley’s uncertainties about the concept album. Granted, some of the songs aren’t as catchy as previous outings – the concept approach means that sing-along anthems aren’t so evident. That aside, it’s a decent album none the less and I’m never sure why it tops fans’ ‘worst album’ lists. Bloated and pompous it may be, but there’s nothing here anywhere near as embarrassing as ‘Burn Bitch Burn’ (Animalize, 1984), ‘Bang Bang You’ (Crazy Nights, 1988) or ‘Domino’ (Revenge, 1991), so surely it deserves to be treated just a little better?

January 2010

AC/DC – Live From The Atlantic Studios

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Following 1980’s multi-million selling ‘Back In Black’, Brian Johnson helped steer AC/DC to uncharted heights.  The band have headlined festivals the world over, filled arenas and held an enduring popularity.

No matter how good or how popular the band became in the 80s and beyond, the material AC/DC released in the 70s is among their very best.  On recordings like ‘High Voltage’ and ‘Let There Be Rock’, their style is a little looser and the rock ‘n’ roll ethic hasn’t yet given way to the band’s slightly more metallic tendencies explored throughout Brian Johnson’s tenure fronting the band.

The studio albums are great, but it’s on the live albums where the early AC/DC really hit home. It’s often said that 1978’s ‘If You Want Blood’ is one of the great live albums of the age – that’s a theory with which it is hard to argue and the 2CD soundtrack to the ‘Let There Be Rock: Live In Paris’ film has some cracking performances.  However, it’s ‘Live From The Atlantic Studios’ which captures the band on most consistent, lean and mean form.  The intimate setting really gives the performance spark.

Bon’s voice is strong throughout the 40-odd minutes; he’s in good spirit, chatting with the small audience between numbers. ‘Live Wire’, ‘Problem Child’ and ‘High Voltage’ set the stage and the Aussie live wire sounds really focused; Phil Rudd and Cliff Williams are impeccably strong in their understated role as rhythm section.  What really works here, though, is the volume of the guitars; ‘Live At The Atlantic Studios’ has a feeling throughout of a studio run-through and as a result, the eight numbers don’t offer much difference to the band’s recordings in terms of performance, but that bit of extra volume means these tracks stomp over many of their studio equivalents.  Solid renditions of ‘Dog Eat Dog’ and ‘Hell Ain’t a Bad Place to Be’ maintain the spirit well, but it’s during the second half of the set that AC/DC relax a little and the fun really begins.

An extended version of the bluesy rocker ‘The Jack’ appears here in its best rendition, largely due to having retained the original album lyrics – much preferred over the sexually themed ones, full of schoolboy humour (pun intended) used on ‘If You Want Blood’ and other live performances.  An extended arrangement allows the band to really fall into a solid blues groove, with Angus turning in a fine solo en route. The band close their set with the double rock ‘n’ roll whammy of ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’ and ‘Rocker’.  Both numbers by this point had been established as crowd-pleasers, but during ‘Rocker’ especially, you can feel the sweaty atmosphere, as Angus and co tear it up.  It would have been fantastic to have been there: it’s such a great shame this set never filmed for posterity.

For those of you who have the studio albums and have loved them for many years, there’s little else to add, as you know exactly what you’re in for.  AC/DC at their most powerful, in front of a tiny audience?  If you want a snapshot of a hugely influential band at their most vital, ‘Live From The Atlantic Studios’ gives you what you need.

Bon Scott (09.07.46 – 19.02.80)

February 2010

*’Live At The Atlantic Studios’ is available as part of the AC/DC ‘Bonfire’ 5CD box set.

SAMMY HAGAR – Street Machine

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Between leaving Montrose in 1975 and joining Van Halen a decade later, Sammy Hagar was a busy man. During that decade he embarked upon a solo career whereby he released eight studio albums and two live albums, as well as a collaboration with Neal Schon, Kenny Aaronson and Mike Shreive (released as HSAS: ‘Through The Fire’).

A great deal of this work represents quantity over quality as far as I’m concerned.Most of those studio albums contain three or four really great numbers, bolstered by approx half a dozen dispensable ones to bring things up to album length.1977’s ‘Musical Chairs’ doesn’t even stretch that far. After the opening good times of ‘Turn Up The Music’, most of what follows is lacklustre; even a deliberate attempt to rock during ‘Reckless’ feels a little flat, due to an over-reliance of Alan Fitzgerald’s organ, played like a limp Jon Lord. (It’s also worth mentioning that any decent material from fan favourite ‘Danger Zone’ [1980] is killed by a really flat production job from Geoff Workman).

Among Sammy’s pre-VH solo work though, you’ll find one genuine gem.1979’s ‘Street Machine’ is a solid offering which no fan of late 70s hard rock should be without.The Red Rocker and his band are firing on all six here right from the opening number, the simple boogie-rocker ‘Growing Pains’.The no-nonsense rock vibe carries through ‘Trans Am (Highway Wonderland)’, where the rhythm section of Chuck Ruff (drums) and bassist Bill Church (who’d previously worked with Hagar in Montrose) are the real stars.Chuck’s drumming style is very natural; he knows how to rock out, but never in a way which upstages Hagar.Bill Church’s bass style here – and throughout ‘Street Machine’ generally – is solid.He could be compared to a hard rock John McVie: you know the style, a firm anchor – plodding but never dull.

‘This Planet’s on Fire’ (one of the album’s better known numbers) is a full-on rocker, driven by Gary Pihl’s circular riff on lead guitar.He also gets to turn in a fairly hard edged solo – this will undoubtedly be one of the standout tracks for those wanting Sammy and co to rock in the way that Montrose’s ‘Bad Motor Scooter’ and ‘Space Station #5’ had previously.The ballad ‘Child to Man’ offers one of Hagar’s strongest performances, but it’s Gary Pihl’s guitar touches which makes it so memorable.Its subtle bluesy notes compliment Hagar’s voice perfectly.Also more reflective, ‘Never Say Die’ provides another standout.Here, Hagar and the whole band are at their absolute strongest: Sammy’s voice retains its hard rock qualities but he sings like a man who’s been let down, his voice showing a passionate side not quite so evident elsewhere.

Musically, ‘Plain Jane’ is a decent slice of 70s power pop, matching handclaps and a singalong element with hard rock guitars, reminiscent of work by Rick Derringer on his ‘Face To Face’ LP (recorded at a similar time).Hagar’s voice though remains hard and a little husky, so it’s likely this’ll always be far more associated with the hard rock tag.

The rest of the album’s material also passes muster. ‘Wounded In Love’ and ‘Feels Like Love’ both offer decent mid-paced rock stompers; ‘Falling In Love’, driven by ringing guitars features backing vocals by Boston members Brad Delp, Barry Goudreau and Sib Hashain giving it a slightly overblown late 70s vibe and ‘Straight To The Top’ is a fun workout with more than a nod to fifties style rock ‘n’ roll.

The difference in quality between ‘Street Machine’ and any of Sammy’s previous solo albums is astounding. Although Hagar’s best solo albums wouldn’t appear until sometime later (1987’s self-titled album, aka ‘I Never Said Goodbye’ and 1997’s ‘Marching To Mars’), ‘Street Machine’ – like the Montrose debut – does a decent job in highlighting why Hagar was a hero to US rock fans a long time before his alliance with Van Halen.

February 2010

MARILLION – Somewhere Else

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It’s only fair before we begin, that I tell you how much I love this band.

It may be unfashionable, but I’m not one of those people who hold them up as some sort of middle-aged-but-still-trying-to-be-cool joke. I genuinely think they’re great. As a rule, their greatness far outweighs their faults. Even when in the past they’ve released albums I’ve not been so keen on, there have always been moments which truly stand out.

‘Somewhere Else’ really breaks the mould. The bad bits are bad. The average bits are average and, to be honest, the good bits are, just so…average. For a band who’ve often given it their all and been a band still capable of surprise some twenty-five years into their career, this album represents a band on auto-pilot; a band who, at best, sound somewhat pale when compared to their previous two outings (the epic and dark ‘Marbles’ and the surprisingly contemporary sounding ‘Anoraknophobia’). ‘Somewhere Else’ sounds like songs fashioned from bits of leftovers with some bleak lyrics, mismatched with some poor attempts at chorus writing.

The opening track, ‘The Other Half’ promises so much, with its big sound working from a rather Beatles-y loop. It’s a slow-burning opening track which leads the listener into thinking this will be an atmospheric journey, kind of like a familiar friend but with a new slant. It’s after this that things go awry, when the first single, ‘See It Like A Baby’ emerges from the speakers. The verses are full of unimaginative clichés about trying things for the first time, which become almost unbearable when Steve Hogarth utters the line ‘taste it like you’ve never tasted it before’; a line which no matter how many times I hear it, I expect him to be endorsing Cadbury’s Flake. No thanks. Things aren’t saved from despair when the chorus presents itself as ‘See it like a baby (x4)’. Is this really the work of a man who has been a songwriter for some three decades or maybe more? Is it the work of a man who has written things of a poetic nature in the past? I have trouble believing it myself.

‘Thankyou Whoever You Are’ sounds like something Marillion binned at the demo stage on previous attempts and then dragged out in desperation to pull this album up to ten songs. Musically, it’s more than competent, but sounds very much like a composite of previously released Marillion songs. I kind of hoped that lyrically, something would save this from being mediocre, but again, witness the chorus: ‘Thankyou whoever you are (x4)’. I could point out that thank you is two words, but that’d just be pedantic.

Before the album was released, the song ‘Most Toys’ was touted as a groundbreaking number in the Marillion cannon. It was supposedly the fastest, heaviest thing the band had ever recorded with [quote] Ian Mosely finally getting to drum like he’s in System Of A Down. In reality, that’s not true. It’s slightly tougher sounding than a lots of the band’s previous outings, but certainly not that much faster – not really any faster than, say, ‘Hooks In You’ or ‘Separated Out’, and as for the System Of A Down drumming comparison…that’s laughable. The chorus again is a one-liner; I wish they’d not tried writing choruses at all, to be honest. The title track, musically, is one of the albums strongest offerings – sprawling and atmospheric, but the lyrics add little to the over all result and the main hook, again, features too much repetition of one line. ‘A Voice From The Past’ and ‘Last Century For Man’ have a similar feel, but are ultimately forgettable and while ‘No Such Thing’, at first, seems to be on the right track atmospherically, it’s ultimately spoilt by a trippy vocal effect (used by Black Sabbath to far greater effect some thirty-seven years previously on ‘Planet Caravan’) and some spiteful lyrics, including ‘no such thing as a faithful wife’. Thanks for that. That’s lovely.

‘The Wound’ is the album’s other upbeat moment (aside from ‘Most Toys’ which should be swept under the carpet) and here, I’m pleased to say, it’s an improvement. Sure, compared to some of Marillion’s previous great moments it’s average, but compared to most of ‘Somewhere Else’, it’s a step forward. Steve Hogarth is in fine voice, the tune has a rock edge which feels natural, rather than forced, as it does on ‘Most Toys’. It’s the closest ‘Somewhere Else’ comes to representing how good a band Marillion can be. The rock bits are balanced by an atmospheric mid-section which reminds me of late-90s ‘dotcom’ era Marillion. By this point though (track 8 on a ten track CD), it’s really not enough to save face, particularly after ‘See It Like A Baby’ and ‘Most Toys’. Closing the album is ‘Faith’. As a song in an almost finished form, this has been kicking around for some time. It’s a gentle acoustic-based affair, somewhat reminiscent of The Beatles’ ‘Blackbird’. Its simple arrangement is one of its strengths. Maybe that’s why I preferred the earlier performances without the brass section. Even though this is one of the rare moments of ‘Somewhere Else’ I enjoyed, it’s hard not to feel just a little let down when a ten song outing, which took years to make, features something most of us were familiar with from what now feels like so long ago.

To be honest, ‘Somewhere Else’ is by far the worst album in the Marillion catalogue to date and even as a huge fan, I can’t bring myself to recommend it to anyone. I’d go as far as to say that although this isn’t the first time Marillion have left me disappointed, it’s the first time they’ve let me down to such a degree that I’m actually embarrassed by at least half of this album.  All great bands have their off-days, but in terms of misfires, this one’s special – the spark that often drives music’s “best kept secret” has totally gone out…

 

September 2007