I'm not sure how many Roy Orbison completists are out there. I know two: myself and my friend Frank Doris. Classic has issued Orbison's Crying in both mono and stereo and a good case can be made for either edition, once the case has been made for the music, which is a bit of a more difficult proposition.
Producer Norman Granz's “songbook” concept, made possible by the invention of the LP, proved to be one of his most popular and enduring ideas. Ella sang Rodgers and Hart, Cole Porter, and of course Gershwin, but this one, pairing two of the biggest names of the last musical century, with Ella performing with three ensembles, was perhaps Granz's most ambitious undertaking. Ella and the Duke were signed to different labels, and both had busy concert and recording schedules, but after Ella performed with Ellington at a Jazz at the Philharmonic date, Granz set about getting the two together in a recording studio for a songbook production.
With heartfelt help and support from his friends, Warren Zevon's musical sendoff is like a good funeral: a mixture of tears, laughter, fond remembrances, and in the end, a celebration of a life worth living, and one that obviously touched both those close at hand, and those seated in the audience.
One of the problems with 180g LPs is that they're usually expensive, so when something interesting, but minor gets released, like this recently discovered tape, buyers hesitate. Fortunately, Sundazed keeps their prices down to around CD level and below, so this previously undocumented live performance by the “classic” lineup, recorded sometime in July of 1964 becomes a feasible addition to one's Yardbirds/Clapton archives.
The Tracking Angle Interview: Los Lobos- America's Band
By Michael Fremer
The goodies were stacked on a big table in the corner of the stars' dressing room: an industrial size sack of M&M Peanuts, big bags of Herr's tortilla and potato chips, a jar of Pace brand Thick and Chunky Salsa, fresh fruit, a ten pack of Kellogg's cereals, a plate of muffins, a cheese, tomato and deli platter, jars of Hellman's mayonnaise and Grey Poupon mustard, and some local color- loaves of Stroehmann's Pennsylvania Dutch and white bread and a big red box of Ivins' "Famous Spiced Wafers."
"Did the Los Lobos guys really ask for Pace salsa in a jar? Or did the Electric Factory people figure the beaners would expect it? If Al Kooper plays there do they put out knishes and Cel-Ray tonic?," I'm thinking. I was hungry, but I wasn't going to help myself to the band's food. If I couldn't eat it, I'd memorize it, which I did. And I waited. And waited.
MF: Why are there so many guest drummers on your records?
LP: Because I'm a guitar player. I think what happened in the ’70s with all the disco kind of stuff — all the drummers became, like, machines? So that kind of drumming became a prerequisite....
MF: And how did you feel about that? Was that pushed on the band?
Unidentified voice: The White man again! [Laughter]
MF: That was pushed on the band....
Unidentified voice: The evil White Demon! [More laughter]
Gene Clark went from superstar status to cult favorite faster than probably any artist in rock’s history. Departing from The Byrds at the very height of their powers (immediately after “Eight Miles High”, which he was the major architect of), he bounced from label to label, cutting some of the greatest albums of the late-60’s and early 70’s in the process. He progressed, flowered and remained, in a quiet way, one of the finest singer-songwriters of the period, and in hindsight, chronicled the stylistic shifts in music and social mores as well as anyone, including larger lights such as Neil Young. Some of his finest work was for A&M Records, either in tandem with Doug Dillard (The Fantastic Expedition Of Dillard & Clark, which mid-wife’d the ‘country rock’ genre) and 1971’s Gene Clark - also known as White Light to many fans; as good as any ‘singer-songwriter’ record from the early 70’s. On this album, none other than Bob Dylan commented that one song, the epic “Spanish Guitar”, was one that he wished he’d written.
This is such a wide-ranging album of varying degrees of music and entertainment that it’s virtually impossible to classify or label…and that’s probably the way Judy Henske enjoyed it. Like her first two albums for Elektra, this collection of songs ranges from Broadway-inspired pop to folk to soul, folk-rock, and blues (and beyond). Henske’s ability to mark her territory in all of these genres, define it… and then burn it down - is decidedly spellbinding. But aside from her astonishing voice, this live in-the-studio record captures her hilarious, slightly stoned-out humor. To be sure, they’ll probably be a few listeners who will be tempted to skip some of the lengthy, in between song raps and introductions; but they’d be selling themselves short. Inspired by Lenny Bruce and Lord Buckley (among others) Judy’s politically-incorrect/Beat attitude wreaks havoc over codified ‘rules’ of public behavior, especially for women in 1966. As emancipated, independent and equally talented as Slick, Joplin or Elliot, Judy Henske should be mentioned in the same breath as those women - and the proof is right here.
The opening track to Starsailor’s sophomore long-player, Silence Is Easy claims “Music Was Saved”. I won’t go so far as to take that totally to heart, but at times, and in some ways, the album makes me feel that way. There is a special sense of camaraderie, and yes, salvation throughout the proceedings, that leaves one feeling buoyant, liberated and cleansed—and it has less to do with musicianship or sonic appeal, and more to do with the songs themselves.