Tag: Jimi Hendrix

Rick’s Quick Takes: What a (Buncha) Concept(s)!

On By kruekuttIn art rock, Big Big Train, hard rock, Insideout Music, jazz, Neal Morse, progressive rockLeave a comment

I might be stretching this a bit, but I’d say that, whether it’s an album that tells a story or a collection that marks an anniversary or achievement (or maybe some do both), every one of the releases below has a concept behind it. Your mileage may vary, but keep that thought in mind as you read on. (Note: listening links are included in each album’s title listing; purchase links are included at the end of each review.)

Big Big Train, Woodcut: Nothing but kudos for BBT’s first rock opera from this corner! As I’ve said elsewhere, this band’s chemistry is a big part of why Woodcut is so strong, engrossing in a way that feels natural and organic. So many highlights here: The precise, tough group riffs of “The Artist” and “Albion Press,” accented with Greg Spawton’s distinctive bass licks and chiming 12-string guitar; “The Sharpest Blade’s”folk/metal mash-up, with Clare Lindley and Alberto Bravin working as lyrical and vocal foils to explore darker mental states; Nick D’Virgilio’s tour de force “Warp and Weft”, featuring herky-jerky guitar licks, spot-on a cappella backup vocals, and a soulful NDV lead. The entire album flows – especially from “Light Without Heat” through “Last Stand”, a finale that holds its own alongside any genre classic you could name. It’s all there: expansive musical themes, inspired solo work (especially from Oskar Holldorff and Rikard Sjoblom), gripping instrumental development in “Cut and Run” to set up the cathartic final anthem “Counting Stars”, with Bravin’s vocals soaring above it all. To sum up my reaction to Woodcut, the first time I heard it, I was definitely impressed; now, on repeat listens, it genuinely moves me. In other words, it does for me what Big Big Train’s music has consistently done for nearly ten years now. (Buy from The Band Wagon USA – and definitely pick up Andy Stuart’s book on the making and meaning of the album; it’s the closest you’ll get to the super-deluxe liner notes Passengers like me crave!)

Neal Morse Band (NMB), L.I.F.T: Whatever your take on the title acronym, Neal Morse and his compatriots (complete with Mike Portnoy parachuting in from Dream Theater’s drum throne) know how to whip up an epic. The structure may not be much different from previous efforts (though the first track is titled “Beginning” instead of “Overture”for a change) but there are plenty of musical twists and turns as L.I.F.T.’s everyman protagonist journeys from despair to delight via divine intervention. We get the heartland rock thrust of “Fully Alive”; the hard and heavy “Hurt People” with Eric Gillette contributing monstrous guitar and vocals; the multi-part altar call “Reaching”, featuring fabulous harmonizing and a collective shred over Bill Hubauer’s braying synth fanfares; the U2ish echofest “Carry You Again” propelled by Morse’s voice of God and Randy George’s fleet bass work. And wonders of wonders, “Love All Along” is a climactic conversion power ballad with a spine, effortlessly weaving in core lyrics and themes as Morse, Gillette and Hubauer take the whole thing higher multiple times! Great material, great playing; immediately qualifying for my year-end Favorites list, this is the best NMB has sounded since The Similitude of a Dream. (Buy from Radiant Records.)

Squeeze, Trixies: Fifty years on, Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook recover a lost past. Imagine a pair of working-class teenage Brit musicians, fallen head over heels for slice-of-life vignettes in the throes of the glam/prog/pub rock scrum of 1974. What else could they come up with but an concept album about the habitues of a sleazy, mobbed up members-only nightclub? Fleshed out from recently recovered original demos, this is vintage Squeeze in every sense; Difford’s clever yet plainspoken lyrics and Tillbrook’s sinuous, conversational melodies were already in place, even on influence-heavy tunes like the Bowie-adjacent “The Place We Call Mars”. These evocative sketches of characters (sympathetic or otherwise) whose lives revolve around Trixies (a stage, a haven, a gas, the place to be, ” Hell on Earth”, depending on who’s talking) pre-echo future classics like “Tempted” and “Hourglass”; the pin sharp current lineup of Squeeze, led by producer/bassist Owen Biddle, expertly weave convincing cabaret (“What More Can I Say”, “Good Riddance”) and stomping rock (“Why Don’t You”, “The Jaguars”) around their leaders’ smooth and salty vocals to craft a seamless whole. With this plus another entire album of new songs already in the can, the Lennon & McCartney of the 1980s seem primed to wow both waiting fans and unsuspecting listeners once again. (Buy from Rough Trade.)

Miles Davis, The Complete Live at the Plugged Nickel 1965: When Columbia recorded seven sets of Miles and his “Second Great Quintet” over two nights in a Chicago club, then tossed the tapes in a vault for twentysome years, did they realize they were sitting on a Rosetta Stone of modern jazz? That’s how these shockingly creative performances were greeted when they finally emerged, and it’s why this fresh reissue (an instant Favorite) is so welcome. Recovering from illness, Davis started the stand playing spaces as much as notes, then coming alive as he realized bassist Ron Carter and drummer Tony Williams’ commitment to new heights of rhythmic gamesmanship, stretching the beat to the breaking point and swinging all the while. Taking their cues, Herbie Hancock switched between single note bop lines and elliptical chording that clouded the harmony instead of clarifying it; all this proved catnip for Miles (constantly drilling through to the abstract essence of the melody) and saxophonist Wayne Shorter (getting gone from the start, launching fragments suggesting multiple keys and rhythms that coalesced into something strange yet true). It’s safe to say that the Plugged Nickel crowd had never heard blues (“Walkin'”), jazz standards (“Round Midnight”), ballads (“My Funny Valentine”, “Autumn Leaves”) and Davis’ signature tunes (“Milestones”, So What”) rendered in this fashion: floating and furious, following the multitonal trails blazed by Ornette Coleman and John Coltrane to break open fresh facets of already classic material. The third time (of at least five) Davis changed jazz, a key to so much great music that followed in his footsteps. (Buy from the Miles Davis 100 webstore.)

Bill Evans Trio, Haunted Heart: The Legendary Riverside Studio Recordings: If 1960s Miles was about freer, rougher expressionism, Evans (previously the pianist on Davis’ essential Kind of Blue) pursued the opposite affect – a harmonically refined, classically-tinged impressionism – throughout his painfully self-sabotaging career. But in the end, these proved diametric approaches in pursuit of the same goal: near-telepathic sensitivity within the small jazz group, leading to a unity founded in diversity of utterance. Evans’ first trio (with the phenomenally gifted Scott LaFaro on bass and the delicately grooving Paul Motian on drums) took this “conversation of equals” approach to astonishing heights before LaFaro’s tragic accidental death, mere days after their definitive recording live at New York City’s Village Vanguard; but the trio’s two studio albums Portrait in Jazz and Explorations are only micromillimeters below that exalted benchmark. Haunted Heart collects every take from those studio sessions, an embarrassment of musical riches. Through numerous, remarkably varied runthroughs and masters, Evans, LaFaro and Motian lovingly probe the essence of each tune; the quiet fire of ballads “When I Fall in Love” and “How Deep Is the Ocean” proves as engrossing as the restrained yet unmistakable drive of Evans’ “Peri’s Scope” and Miles’ “Nardis”, giving the lie to later critics who equated Evans’ ethos with shallow, unswinging lounge music. Evans has probably been the single most influential pianist in jazz from his heyday right up to the present, and this delectable collection shows why. (Buy from Craft Recordings.)

The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Bold As Love: This new 4-CD/BluRay set prompted a my first deep dive into Hendrix’s music in a long time. I came away unable to pick a clear favorite of the Experience studio albums; they’re all equally mind blowing in the best sense, as Jimi, bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell melded the blues, psychedelia and soul into something utterly primal, yet progressive in every sense of the word. So bringing 1967’s Axis: Bold As Love’s mono and stereo mixes together with an Atmos version, session outtakes, live tracks and the occasional media promo appearance is as good a way as any to get a handle on Hendrix’s unique, eclectic genius. What the wild stereo panning and goofy humor of intro “EXP”, the breathtaking funk groove of “Wait Till Tomorrow”, the aching warmth of “Little Wing” and “One Rainy Wish” and the trippy fuzz of “If 6 Was 9” have in common is mind and heart in communion, longing and exultation running side by side, each informing and nourishing the other. And as with all of Hendrix’s work, this album proves yet again how utterly essential the man was in the development of the electric guitar; almost every track features an innovative lick that David Gilmour, Steve Howe or Robert Fripp took, ran with and made their own on some of my (and probably your) favorite albums. Rock lovers simply cannot go wrong listening to this. (Buy from the Hendrix webstore.)

No-Man, Loveblows & Lovecries (30th Anniversary); Scatter (Lost Not Lost Volume 2, 1991-1997): All the material on this double-disc Loveblows & Lovecries was also on 2024’s Housekeeping box, but for those who missed it (as well as hardcore fans of Tim Bowness and Steven Wilson – guilty!), it’s good to have No-Man’s debut album and its offshoots in one compact edition. With violinist Ben Coleman as equal contributor, Bowness and Wilson faced the challenge of balancing their muse’s promptings with the market-focused demands of label One Little Indian; the result is a seductive blend of artistic ambition (whether channeled into wicked dance grooves or lush, demonstrative ballads) and stoically-sung emotional torment. But Scatter is the fresh revelation here! These offcuts often go against the grain of the album projects they hail from; the gorgeous melancholy of “All the Reasons” proved as unsuitable to the extravagant mayhem of Wild Opera as the warped industrial jazz of “Gothgirl Killer” and “Samaritan Snare” to Returning Jesus‘ minimalist calm. Then there are the Flowermouth outtakes”Hard Shoulder” and “Coming Through Slaughter”, with King Crimson mainmen Robert Fripp and Mel Collins providing the necessary instrumental wigouts. Scatter is a surprisingly unified collection, a year-end Favorite in waiting, and perhaps the perfect introduction to No-Man’s special blend of quiet and chaos. (Buy from Burning Shed.)

Yes, Tales from Topographic Oceans (Super Deluxe Edition): Decades after the backlash surrounding its release, Topographic Oceans remains a double album easily vilified, but not lightly dismissed. Yes was committed to going over the top here; the journey from the extended song-form of “The Revealing Science of God” through the primal skronk of “The Remembering” and the multidirectional meanderings of “The Ancient” to the focused finale “Ritual” made few concessions to immediate comprehensibility and none to commerciality. In retrospect, it was a genuinely brave move, with Jon Anderson and Steve Howe leading the charge to the outer limits, Chris Squire and Alan White following gamely in their wake, and Rick Wakeman wondering what to do with himself as Yes’ tight arrangements gave way to spacious improvisation. In some ways, the three live concerts contained in this 15-disc LP/CD/BluRay box are the best showcase of Topographic’s full potential; even Wakeman rips it up on the Moog during Manchester’s version of “The Remembering”, while Howe consistently goes wild, his daring guitar arabesques setting off Anderson’s mystical hippie word salad to perfection. As always, Steven Wilson’s fresh remixes buff up every musical destination and detour to maximum clarity; plus there are instrumental-only versions, freshly discovered working tracks, and the usual plethora of extras. Probably the ultimate version of what remains Yes’ proggiest, grandest gesture. (Buy from Rhino.)

— Rick Krueger

The Best Prog Bands You’ve Never Heard Of (Part Twenty-Eight): Jan Dukes de Grey

On By Connor MullinIn progressive rock1 Comment

Combine the following ingredients in a vintage mixing bowl: the Gothic atmosphere of Van der Graaf Generator, the versatility and dexterity of the members of Gentle Giant, the guitar of Jimi Hendrix, the flute of Peter Gabriel, and include dash of Jethro Tull for taste. The result? Perhaps the most polished of obscure gems I have reviewed thus far. Jan Dukes de Grey’s Mice and Rats in the Loft is a psychedelic, folk-inspired acid trip that will leave the listener both mildly disturbed (listen closely to the lyrics) and suitably impressed.

After Sorcerer‘s (their debut album) cool reception from both fans and critics, British duo Jan Dukes de Grey (multi-instrumentalists Derek Noy and Michael Bairstow) brought on drummer Denis Conlan to give their follow up effort some “umph.” Although Mice and Rats in the Loft received little attention upon its initial release, it has since acquired a dedicated cult following; the album is now an in-demand collector’s item. Like many prog albums of yore, Mice and Rats in the Loft includes only three songs, but they are heavy hitters:

The opening number, “Sun Symphonica,” begins like a Jethro Tull song: your ears are greeted by the lovely, pastoral sound of a lilting flute. But soon the madness begins: Conlan pounds the drums, and Bairstow and Noy sound like two madmen enjoying themselves through music. The latter two gentlemen display their talents on just about everything: keys, guitar, flute, sax, clarinet, etc. Noy’s theatrical vocals combine with some rather ominous lyrics to weave a tale that is sure to leave you rattled by the end.

“Call of the Wild” skips the pleasant opening notes of the first song and gets straight to the madness. Noy’s work on twelve-string guitar on this album is superb – comparable to Hackett or Howe, in fact – and he shreds (yes, shreds) on this song. There are several moments – one about eight minutes in, another at the end of the piece – where Noy’s distorted guitar transports the listener into a Gothic-folk setting. This song is downright Lovecraftian in atmosphere.

The title track leaves the listener feeling no less worried about his mental or emotional state: we are greeted with the sound of a wailing siren before Noy’s electric guitar (sounding like Hendrix here) is unleashed on our ears. Like the previous two songs, the lyrics are meant to unsettle (“The blood trickled down between his…fingers”). It’s not long before we begin to wonder what exactly those mice and rats are doing upstairs….

This album is a marvelous maelstrom – a chilling cacophony – a sinister symphony – of sound. The (slightly) twisted minds of Bairstow, Noy, and Conlan offer the best elements of prog: fantastical lyrics, theatrical vocals, unbelievable versatility, and an overall unsettling atmosphere that will satisfy even the most persnickety of proggers. Do yourself a favor and give this one a listen.

The Best Prog Bands You’ve Never Heard Of (Part Twenty-Three): Polyphony

On By Connor MullinIn progressive rock1 Comment

Although the name of this band refers to a musical texture defined by two or more lines of independent melody, I want to call your attention first to the album artwork, which is among the most beautiful I have seen in any genre of music. According to a review on Prog Archives, the artist wanted to show the “four elements of the universe subsiding toward an energy force which was ‘polyphony’.” The rich detail on the cover provides the perfect complement to such a complex album. With elements of ELP, Atomic Rooster, Jimi Hendrix, and Deep Purple, Polyphony seemed poised for success, but like so many other talented bands of the day were instead lost in the shuffle, and Without Introduction remained their only release. Here are my thoughts on the four tracks:

“Juggernaut” is a fitting title for the opening piece, which hits with a burst of keys and guitar right from the start. If Jimi Hendrix had joined ELP to form HELP (rumor has it he nearly did), it would probably sound like this piece. The interplay between Glenn Howard’s slide guitar and Craig Massey’s organ is excellent – and intense. It actually reminds me a little bit of Boston’s “Foreplay,” the lengthy introduction to their superb “Long Time.” We don’t get any vocals until after the nine-minute mark, and they may remind some listeners of Nad Sylvan, Progarchy’s favorite Vampirate.

The next piece, “40 Second Thing in 39 Seconds” is a brief experiment with a Moog synthesizer. It’s a bizarre piece, but considering what Emerson did with the Moog, it would be music to many a progger’s ears.

“Ariel’s Flight” is the longest piece on the album and, despite featuring more vocals, nevertheless remains dominated by Howard’s raw guitar and Massey’s deft work on the keys. Martin Ruddy’s pounding bass and Chris Spong’s steady beat on the drums are also superb; the rhythm section on this album is not to be ignored.

The closing track, “Crimson Dagger,” also opens with a blitz of guitars and keys but transitions to a smoother, psychedelic soundscape about three minutes in. This piece also features the strongest vocals on the album, including some solid backing vocals by all members except the drummer. Unfortunately, the song ends rather abruptly, but this is one of the album’s few weak points.

It’s too bad Polyphony was little appreciated in their day, as their debut album suggests they could have contended with some of prog’s heaviest hitters. Lovers of symphonic and “classic era” prog rock will especially enjoy this hidden gem, but it will no doubt appeal to many in the prog world.

Stay tuned for number twenty-four!

The Best Prog Bands You’ve Never Heard Of (Part Nineteen): Touch

On By Connor MullinIn progressive rock1 Comment

Featuring vocals reminiscent of Ian Gillan and keys that may call to mind (dare I say it?) Rick Wakeman and Keith Emerson, Touch produced one of America’s early progressive rock albums – and one of its finest. Yet despite having fans and supporters such as Kerry Livgren, Jimi Hendrix, and Mick Jagger, Touch remained relatively obscure, as bandleader and keyboardist Don Gallucci refused to tour the album. Unfortunately, that spelled the end for the band, and they never released a second album. Thankfully, we have an impressive selection of songs from their lone effort. Here are some of the highlights:

“We Feel Fine,” a rollicking opener of a song, makes for a fine introduction. Jeff Hawks immediately puts on display his impressive vocal range, but Gallucci shines on the organ, and Joey Newman gets to show off a little bit on guitar.

The Beatles come to mind upon hearing “The Spiritual Death of Howard Greer,” an acid-rock epic that tells the tale of a sad stick in the mud. It may remind listeners of “A Day in the Life” or a darker version of “The Diary of Horace Wimp.”

Odysseus and his crew may disagree, but “Down at Circe’s Place” is a wonderful tune and the most psychedelic piece on the album. An instrumental (although there are some spacey wordless vocals courtesy of Hawks), the tune opens with a catchy piano riff and features a wonderful cacophony of sound at the climax – sans guitar: Gallucci’s keys and John Bordonaro’s percussion drive the madness.

The second and final epic on the album, “Seventy-Five,” is the strongest and most progressive track. Hawks can shriek like Gillan or croon like Greg Lake depending on what is called for; it is an impressive vocal performance to say the least. Newman finally earns a spot front and center to display his talents on guitar, and he does not disappoint.

This is not an album to ignore: the musicianship is top-notch and the overall quality something you will not typically find in some of these older, more obscure releases. It’s time to give Touch a go.

Stay tuned for number twenty!

Seasons, Jimi Hendrix, and the Virgin: Jammin’ in the Kingdom with Chris Cornell

On By bradbirzerIn progressive rock1 Comment

And I’m lost, behind
The words I’ll never find
And I’m left behind
As seasons roll on by

Thus far, 2017 has been a rather amazing year when it comes to rock and prog.  PROG magazine is back and better than ever.  Thank the Good Lord for Jerry Ewing.

The music releases–already and forthcoming–this year are nothing less than stunning.  Big Big Train has released the finest of the band’s career, and The Tangent’s new release has yet to come.  Steven Wilson is coming out with a progressive pop album, and newspaperflyhunting and Bjorn Riis have, as with BBT, released the best thing either’s written and done, thus far in their respective careers.  There’s a new Anathema that is pretty good, and Steve Hogarth seems, at the moment, unstoppable with Marillion as well as with Isildur’s Bane.

Now I want to fly above the storm
But you can’t grow feathers in the rain
And the naked floor is cold as hell
This naked floor reminds me
Oh the naked floor reminds me

As I type this (having just returned from a conference on libertarian thought in 1840’s France), I have just received in the mail two grand packages.  The first I opened is Steven Wilson’s remix of Jethro Tull’s SONGS FROM THE WOODS.  The second is Aryeon’s signed five-disk ear-book, THE SOURCE.  Honestly, I’m not sure how to react with anything that would be regarded as decorous.  I’m a 13-year old boy, at the moment, just having had my first listen of MOVING PICTURES.

Holy schnikees.

Continue reading “Seasons, Jimi Hendrix, and the Virgin: Jammin’ in the Kingdom with Chris Cornell” →

soundstreamsunday: “1983…(A Merman I Should Turn To Be)” by the Jimi Hendrix Experience

On By Craig BreadenIn progressive rock, psychedelic rock, Rock and Roll2 Comments

jhas02Jimi Hendrix’s mystery is something not quite capture-able as an iconographic or intellectual thing.  Even knowing some of the details of his background — from his emergence on the chitlin circuit to his being shepherded to London by Chas Chandler — doesn’t explain the lightning the man conjured.  The scant year and a half that Hendrix and his Experience released their three albums (May ’67-October ’68) encompassed a sea change in rock music that saw a full embrace of Dylan’s lyrical approach and of Hendrix’s instrumental creativity.  It went beyond the firepower, to the belief, the true faith, in what the electric guitar could ultimately offer to rock and other music.  Hendrix refracted his surroundings, adding to his electric soul and blues the emerging British fascination with distortion and eastern scales, and beamed them into the very brains of rock and jazz.  Since September 18, 1970, his is a persistent ghost, THE example of a technically skilled player and writer who, as importantly, brought imagination and soul and heart to the act of making music.

Electric Ladyland is Hendrix’s great work, mid-wifed by hard-won artistic and financial independence.  As double albums of that era tend to, it sprawls, spinning with ambition, noble failures, and grand successes.  He’s using the studio as an instrument, stretching the ideas cycling through him.  Some of his most radio-friendly hits appear on Electric Ladyland (“All Along the Watchtower,” “Voodoo Chile (Slight Return),” “Crosstown Traffic”).  But buried in the middle, on side 3, is the album’s jewel and centerpiece, “1983…(A Merman I Should Turn To Be),” a proto-prog epic on the art of walking away from the nonsense humanity inflicts upon itself, “not to die but to be reborn, away from the land so battered and torn.”  The music is a wild, left-field, Bolero-paced march where Hendrix overlaps his guitars and basses like a string section, affecting oceanic waves and surf, with sympathetic playing by steadfast Experience drummer Mitch Mitchell and flautist Chris Wood (on loan from Traffic).  In it are sonic echoes from “Third Stone from the Sun” (from 1967’s Are You Experienced?) and thematically Hendrix continues to mine the problem of Earth-boundedness.  Of being contained in a place that doesn’t seem to fit.  And even as Hendrix’s music transcends and transports, his real and continued gift is the mirror he holds up to those of us listening.

https://vimeo.com/78819718

soundstreamsunday presents one song or live set by an artist each week, and in theory wants to be an infinite linear mix tape where the songs relate and progress as a whole. For the complete playlist, go here: soundstreamsunday archive and playlist, or check related articles by clicking on”soundstreamsunday” in the tags section above.