Yes and the Sound That Dare Not Speak Its Name

First off, a small correction: In my last post, I accidentally telescoped the timeline of my college years. I had the Yes albums, sure, but I didn't get most of the Camel, Caravan, Genesis, et al, until just after college, when I worked in a record store. And that just makes it worse -- at the same time I was buying singles by the Sex Pistols and XTC, I was picking up Genesis albums. I was tempting fate in the belly of the beast, where the judgment of my peers hung over my head.  (My moment of clarity: I remembering wondering one day, working at the store, "Why is it that all these nerdy guys are buying the same Eno albums that I like ?" Uh oh.)

So...back to Yes.

Yes became the whipping boys for everyone who hated progressive rock. My guess is that's because they a) took themselves very seriously, and b) insisted on making each successive album bigger and more grandiose, and finally c) their music had nothing whatsoever to do with the blues. Happened to Emerson, Lake and Palmer too, but the knives were out for ELP from the beginning.

Yes' "Fragile" album was probably the last release that saw them straddling the line between fan expectations and critical approval, though the fact that "Fragile" also featured each band member's solo turn gave some listeners pause. "Close to the Edge" featured only 3 songs, one being the side-long title track, and now the accolades were coming exclusively from the prog fans (though Rolling Stone gave it the feature spot in the reviews page.) Side Two's "Siberian Khatru" is one of my favorite songs ever, but Jon Anderson's lyrics?  I still have no idea what they mean. David Bowie borrowed William Burroughs' random cut-up method of assembling lyrics, yet he's considered a genius? Jon Anderson, you deserve another look.

Then the final straw....

"Tales from Topographic Oceans", 4 sides, 4 songs, based on footnotes in "Autobiography of a Yogi" about Shastric scriptures. Or something. (What can I say? It was 1973/1974.) It's not really terrible, but it could have been edited to a single LP without much trouble. I wonder if halfway through they didn't wonder "Why are we doing this again? Oh yeah, we're Yes. How can we top Jethro Tull's "Thick as A Brick" which is just one song over 2 sides?"

You could say they were asking for it, and from here on in, "Tales" became critical shorthand for the bloated dinosaur product soon to face the gobbing face of punk.

But other bands carried the progressive banner in a much lower key under-the-radar way. The sudden advent of punk only confused the prog set. "I don't get it; we're instrumentally adept, writing interesting and complicated adult material, only to be trumped by bands that are challenged to pull off something like "Louie, Louie". What's up?" Keyboardist Dave Stewart's notes in the National Health reissue are brutally humorous as he describes sinking lower and lower on the foodchain until he's reduced to making a living by transcribing 'songs' by Slaughter and the Dogs for the record company's publishing arm.

An earlier incarnation of National Health, Hatfield and the North, drew members from Caravan and other members of the Canterbury scene, which spawned Soft Machine and eventually the fine catalog of Robert Wyatt, among others (and I'm a big, big fan of them all.) Dryly humorous and somewhat pastorally English in atmosphere, these and other bands managed to pursue their progressive agenda backed by fan support and, if not with critical acclaim, at least under a critical truce. Prog would live to fight another day.

The '90s saw a blossoming of the progs, some under the mantle of "math rock". Isn't that the best? A new breed of musician, facing an uncertain future armed with pocket protectors. 

 

More on Caravan, Hatfield, National Health and Robert Wyatt later this fall. 

Skeletons Crowding the Closet, Progressive Rock Edition

I've mentioned before that I own some embarrassing records, some of which I can defend ("I own it for the ironic value!"), some of which I truly believe in ("One day the world will know the genius of Gilbert O'Sullivan and Ian Anderson!"), some of which I can claim as excellent examples of pop-craft (ABBA, and umm, the Turtles), some of which I just have to plead guilty (Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, Seals and Crofts) --- and then there are the guilty pleasures that I really have a hard time defending: progressive rock. Kaftans, brown rice, album covers that only revealed their full meaning under black lights -- yes, that sounds like psychedelia, but in one sense, progressive rock was the next step. For bands convinced they were above rock's primitivism, each new album was a further step in complexity, intricate time signatures, and denser lyrical content. Why couldn't rock progress toward something like classical music? Fans loved it, but everyone else hated it (and critics found some place beyond hate.)

Imagine: a few friends stop by my college-era apartment, begin to thumb through my LPs, I bask in the reflected coolness (Joni Mitchell, John Fahey, Miles Davis, Fairport Convention, John Martyn)...and then they find the Camel album. Uh oh. Then Genesis (oh crap). And finally, Yes. (Well at least they didn't find any Rush albums, but who knew Rush would finally attain the status of Totally Cool Because They Totally Aren't Cool ?).

So, may I address the jury? First of all, the Camel album was a live album, and they sufficiently rocked out, avoiding the tight-ass quality of some of the studio albums. Yes, I said "rocked out" referring to Camel. (My reference is my sister-in-law, a Bad Company fan, who was impressed with the guitar pyrotechnics of "Never Let Go").

 Genesis? Let's begin the defense by noting that Peter Gabriel is on several of the Genesis albums I own. Peter Gabriel, these days The Earnest Voice Of Environmental, Political And Social Causes, was over the top, but clever and unconventional enough to earn a passing grade from most critics. I remember playing (LOUDLY) bits from "Wind and Wuthering" (post-post Gabriel), giving my stereo a workout, thinking "THIS is high fidelity!" Later, so much later, I realized I was listening to some studio sheen plastered on top of synthesized sound -- nothing sounded like a real instrument! (I remember when every single audio equipment store played Steely Dan's "Aja" as their go-to demo LP, itself engineered and polished until nothing was left but a shiny Lemon Pledge-d version of real music -- but it sounded great, and I still listen to Steely Dan all the time, knowing that I'm being aurally manipulated, and I'm fine with that.)

Well, enough for this post. Next time: Yes! And the fate of lesser known bands that escaped the progressive mantle, for better or worse, but still tried to carry the banner.

David Bowie!! And Some Sorta Related Joke Titles

Surprise surprise, there's a new David Bowie CD! He was supposedly in hiding after an on-stage heart attack or some sort of heart event, living out the few remaining days of his life behind closed doors. Turns out in the last year or so he'd been recording his new CD release in secret. Now, Bowie knows a lot about riding the waves of popularity, the dips and swells of acceptance and pushing ahead into uncharted waters, so does this new one crest the wave or wash up on shore? (Why am I using surfing metaphors about David Bowie?)

I'm a Bowie dilletante, I guess. Only owned "Station to Station", didn't play much of it other than the title track and "TVC 15".  I made a 45 minute cassette "best of", but my tracklist  didn't match the officially released comps (surprise, surprise).

Rick Moody wrote a 30-page review/overview of "The Next Day", so I won't say much more than: wow, I didn't know I missed Bowie. The last, what, 6 or 7 releases came and went with no fanfare. Had David lost the plot? I liked a song or two when I heard them but...well, we all had other things to listen to, I guess.

So far, the first 8 songs (out of 14) are keepers, then the iffy ones pop up, not bad (though tucked in at track 12, "You Will Set The World On Fire" might be a keeper) but if I never heard the rest again, I don't think my life would be any poorer.

 

Laffs! Bowie released his album "Low" and self-appointed "Jesus of Cool" Nick Lowe joked it was a nod to himself, though without the 'e' in his last name, so to return the favor (or favour), he named his next EP "Bowi".

 

The recent movie "This Is 40" features musician Graham Parker, reunited (on the soundtrack) with his original band The Rumour. They too took it as a joke when Fleetwood Mac released "Rumours", so they gave us the plural of "Mac" as "Max".

 

Back to the future:  David Bowie's new release. He took the iconic cover of "Heroes" and slapped what some have called a cocktail napkin on top. Take that!

Old Time, Bluegrass (and the Red Clay Ramblers)

I've never been clear on what makes "old time" different from bluegrass, and the other day on the radio, a guy explained that one difference is...the bass. Bluegrass features stand-up bass and old-time doesn't, giving that role to the guitar. Of course, there's a whole lot more that separates them, at least initially -- lately, lines are being blurred as bluegrass tackles everything from jazz to the Grateful Dead (old-time, as the name implies, maybe not so much). I backed into old-time, hearing Uncle Dave Macon songs via psychedelic tricksters the Holy Modal Rounders (as you'll recall, faithful readers. -- Smilin' Stan), who added their own
humor (and their contemporary take on modes of intoxication).  Uncle Dave Macon was quite the entertainer; I'd bet you could draw a line from Uncle Dave to David Lee Roth, as unlikely as that sounds. (Uncle Dave's onstage side-splits are legendary, even though his stage act came across differently on radio, or so I'm told).

The Fuzzy Mountain String Band, or the Fuzzies, as they are affectionately known, formed the band in the '70s, and listening to their take on old-time (and contra-dance - oh great, another classification), I actually missed my old turntable. We listened to this compilation of their 2 LPs in the car the other day, and since the songs didn't have a whole lot of variation, I missed the 20-minute cut-off when you'd have to turn the record over (and as irritating it seemed at the time, I thought that the  CD could have used some crackles and surface noise that would have been part of the LP listening experience).

KSER played a track from contra-dance band For Old Times Sake, not too far removed from the Fuzzsters, and FOTS has/had a Northwest connection with members from Seattle. Then I discovered local contra-dance events in Bellingham and Anacortes. I'd check one out if I thought they'd just let me listen; if I was forced to dance, another one of the Seventh Seals would be opened, and we can't have that just because my feet can't follow a simple beat. Anyway, as far as my limited exposure goes, contra-dance is based on traditional dance music (Celtic and Scottish mainly) and mostly performed for, yes, dancing.

So then there's the Red Clay Ramblers. I've only heard 2 of their albums, "Twisted Laurel" and "Merchant's Lunch", and I only heard "Twisted Laurel" because it was on the CD with "Merchant's Lunch". Stand back, tirade in the forecast: when the CD format came along, many folk labels adapted poorly.  Maybe it was concern that CDs wouldn't be around long, or weren't going to be adopted by the public-at-large (and I think I'm being generous there.) I actually wrote my only angry letter to a record label (which shall remain nameless) because they released one of my favorite albums on CD with a blank inner sleeve, no notes, nothing like what was included in the original LP. (Detect a nagging theme here, True Believers? --Just-Thought-I'd-Mention-It Stan). It felt like "Fine, you want this album on CD? Here you go, idiot! We don't care."

 Anyway, back to the Red Clay Ramblers -- for the 2 LPs to be packed onto 1 CD, they had to excise 1 track -- THE BEST FRIGGIN' SONG ON THE ALBUM!! Aaargh. It's an Irish-bluegrass-jig medley that kicks the shillelagh out of most other Celtic bands I've heard, and luckily I still have a poorly-recorded cassette copy somewhere. I just hope that when the Ramblers hit some anniversary date, the label will be able to add that track back. The Red Clay Ramblers are all over the map, featured on a mostly trad-folk label but they've got Dixieland, bluegrass, folk, ragtime, Celtic -- at the time, quite the unique and eclectic mix.

 

My Goodwill/Value Village CD Shopping Guide

Once again, some great stuff coming through the thrift store channels. It helps to have a little background in music retail to find the jewels, but lately that's been changing as savvy techies use their smart phones to look up prices and collectible status online. Heck, where's the fun in that?

That being said, I've developed my own strategy for combing the shelves:

1. Don't take chances. I know, it seems like a great opportunity to experiment -- it's so cheap! -- but in my case, I just end up with a stack of losers. Maybe, maybe once in a while it might pay off, but like winning the lotto, the odds are against it.

2. Avoid the budget labels. This one's easier said than done if you don't know which record companies were originally cheap -- in the thrift store rack, every CD is equal. Budget labels retail for half the price of regular labels, and the reason is that they're usually always not very good. Greatest hits albums that feature remakes of the hits, jazz collections that are bootleg recordings of live European tours, or new recordings by big bands still on the road long after any original members have died, classical recordings done by less-than-talented orchestras, even repackaged 'original' recordings that have fallen out of copyright -- there's a lot of junk out there. (LaserLight, I'm looking at you.) Sometimes a classical budget label turns out great; Naxos started out poorly (their stuff sold for $4.95 when major labels were still going for $16.99), mostly with recordings of the standard repertoire by Eastern European ensembles. Later though, Naxos' quality improved so that their releases were showing up on many "Best of the Year" lists.

3. Stick with the budget labels. Wait, what? Okay, here's my point: classical labels that have been around for a while amass a huge catalog. How do you sell a Beethoven symphony recorded in the '70s (or earlier) when there's 10 other versions of the same symphony on your label alone? Sell it cheaper. Every major classical label has their budget line, and if you can read the tiny print (harder and harder for me these days), you'll see what parent label is spinning off titles at the budget price. The Handel pictured above isn't the CD I found, but is the original on Teldec. I found the 'Ultima' release, but I still noticed the red triangle that's Teldec's trademark. A 2 CD set, recorded direct-to-digital in 1983, resissued in 1997, and bought in 2013 for $1.99! The performance is a hoot, too. I first heard "The Messiah" in raise-the-roof versions where everyone was singing for their life. This original-instrument version is much, much quieter; I told my wife the chorus of "For Unto Us a Child Is Born" sounds like the downstairs staff singing in the hallway just outside the nursery -- don't want to wake anyone up!

4. Small, unknown labels can hold treasures. Rule of thumb is: countries with a 'relaxed' attitude toward copyright produce an abundance of repackaging. That's why you see so many Bob Marley CDs released by anybody with a pressing plant in their garage. And Bob of course was no help, re-recording many of his own songs multiple times so that it's hard to tell if you're buying the version you know and love or some bad demo version. I lucked out with the Gabby disc. My vague notion of the Hawaiian music industry was that there wasn't really much of an 'industry' but rather a loose network of tiny boutique labels. I recognized some of the Gabby songs from the soundtrack to "The Descendants" -- another score for under 2 bucks!

5. Expect seredipity. Yes, this whole post is full of the worst, most contradictory advice, it would seem... I'm not talking about taking chances, but sometimes you get totally gob-smacked by what you can find. Last week, I found a primo copy of "Epsilon in Malaysian Pale" by Edgar Froese. I know! (It's the second solo CD by the Tangerine Dream founder, as if you didn't know.) Anyway, not what you'd ever expect to find in a Mount Vernon Value Village!

I hit Value Village a week later and the shelves were decimated, but I'll try it late next week and see what awaits. I can't imagine this gold rush will last much longer, but I'll keep mining until it taps out.

Huh?

Got this from the library. The booklet/liner notes never made it past processing, I guess, so I have no idea who's playing on this. Word is that it's "Bryan Ferry" in name only; no vocals and no input into the arrangements. And the arrangements -- someone had the idea to retool Roxy Music & Bryan Ferry songs as if they were performed in the 1920's, so we can imagine F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda at the bar as "The Bogus Man" and "Love Is the Drug" play in the background.

I'm sure that seemed like an interesting idea, but...um, who wants to listen to this? What's the target market? Who the heck would BUY THIS??? The arrangements are spot on, the engineering sounds like tinny, scratchy 78s, but...WHO WOULD BUY THIS??? It's a "great idea" that I'm guessing nobody cares about.  I forced my family to listen to this 2 1/2 times, and our vote: HUH??

Next entry: hardly any capital letters!

Revisiting John Martyn

"Ain't No Saint" is a John Martyn box packed with alternate takes and live versions of songs throughout his catalog, and I was tempted to cough up the cash and order it, but instead I ordered the remastered (again!) "Solid Air" double-disc set, "The Tumbler" (his second album -- produced by Al Stewart!), and a DVD of interviews and live broadcasts. We'll see how those sort out when they arrive, but it did give me an opportunity to relisten to John's catalog.

If you only buy one John Martyn CD, you could get by rather nicely with "Sweet Little Mysteries: The Island Anthology" (and yes, technically it's 2 CDs.) The bulk of John's career was spent on Island Records, until his later years when he bounced around a lot. The ultimate John Martyn anthology would probably be a licensing nightmare, but the Island collection manages to snag the good bits. As always in anthologies, there are treasures tucked away on the original releases that didn't make it to the Island set, but it is programmed well, something you can't always say about the original albums.

"Bless the Weather" may not be my favorite John album, but it's probably the one I listen to the most, just because it's a good collection and there aren't any stinkers to jar the flow. It also is the album that introduces John's work with the echoplex, which allowed him to "duet" with himself on guitar, something he explored in more depth in his concerts. "Weather" was a transitional album that showed him just beginning to break with the 'folk' tradition, and the follow-up "Solid Air" firmed up that direction. "Solid Air" is also considered John's ultimate achievement for many people, but I always have to hop up and skip "I'd Rather Be the Devil" because my wife hates it! "Inside Out" was next, and this one is where John's slurred vocal effects (supposedly based on John attempting to sound like a sax) are pushed to the extreme. This and "Sunday's Child" also pump up the harder edged guitar work on a few tracks. "Live at Leeds" holds up pretty well, and it offers some of John's ummm... mercurial? stage banter.

 

"One World" is more slickly produced, John's fronting a real band now, and the acoustic early work is all but a distant memory. Best part for me is the longer instrumental version of "Small Hours" (10:19!) on the second disc of the Deluxe Edition.

After this, John went through some personal turmoil, and though his records were even more slickly produced, old fans fell by the wayside and new ones were slow to respond. "Grace and Danger" was produced by Phil Collins, and John's described it as "me and Phil working through the breakup of our marriages". Not easy listening even with Phil's studio sheen. Phil was back at the board for "Glorious Fool", which is patchy but the good songs are...good.



John and I parted ways around this time; since I worked at record stores, I heard some of his albums but nothing I really needed in my collection. Got back on board with 1999's "Glasgow Walker" (albeit patchy again), and 2004's "On the Cobbles" (a better collection to my ears). The posthumous "Heaven and Earth" (thanks, Bowling Joe!) doesn't reverse the trend, but you gotta treasure his last songs.

It's a tie for my wife and I for whose work we've enjoyed the most over the years, John Martyn or Van Morrison (she'd go more with the Van vote, while I'd lean towards John). There may be some albums by other artists that hold a higher spot in our hearts, but thinking in terms of a career retrospective, I'd stick with these 2 guys. Sad that John's rough and rowdy ways brought him all sorts of grief (even in many of the reminiscences by fellow travellers who knew and loved him dearly, phrases like "drunken craziness" and "boozed-up fistfights" recur far too often.) Like many artists whose personal demons made them less-than-easy to live with, John's music stands apart from his personal mistakes, and it's a wonderful and heartwarming achievement.