Always the teacher, Julian “Cannonball” Adderley commences this live set from 1959 with a backgrounder on the difference between church music and soul church music, before launching into Bobby Timmons’s “This Hear,” with the composer on piano, Adderley on alto sax, brother Nat on cornet and the rhythm section of Louis Hayes on drums and Sam Jones on bass setting up a crowd-pleasing soulful groove.
You’ll just have to get over the squashed, harmonically truncated and bleached sound that infects much of this musically outstanding album from 2002 (they’ve released more albums since) from this 15 member Canadian collective if you have any hope of enjoying it.
Donovan may claim to not be a Dylan wannabe, but when you listen to "Catch the Wind," this compilation's opener, his claim rings hollow. It's so Dylan, so "Chimes of Freedom," and so derivative, there's no escaping the Dylan in him.
The first time I recall hearing a vibraphone was on a record at E.J. Korvette's. I was perusing the vinyl back in 1960 something or other when the store clerk put on a copy of Terry Gibb's That Swing Thing (Verve V6-8447), cuing up Bobby Timmon's catchy as the flu "Moanin'" which this clueless suburban adolescent had never heard.
Apparently, the inclusion of the nostalgic Goffin/King song “Goin’ Back,” and the rejection of Crosby’s icky threesome song “Triad,” (which found its way onto The Jefferson Airplane’s superb Crown of Creation) caused him to split. The story goes that the horse on the cover represents Crosby, but if it's really a parting shot, why show the head instead of the tail?
Take Coheed and Cambria vocals (only far more harsh and severe), some of At the Drive-In’s experimental noise, and a bit of Rancid’s edgy speed and you’ll get an idea of what the Blood Brothers sound like.
Whether covering Robert Johnson, Joni Mitchell, Hank Williams or The Monkees (Boyce and Hart), Cassandra Wilson’s sultry, commanding voice has always worked effectively set against spare, moody backdrops.
This five song 45rpm EP compiled for Mobile Fidelity by Thompson from his archive of live recordings includes “From Galway to Graceland” and “1952 Vincent Black Lightning,” recorded in 1994, “Oops! I Did It Again” and “It Won’t Be Long” from 2003, and a 1985 edition of “Shoot Out The Lights.”
Yes, Clapton, Bruce and Baker have gotten older. Face it, they’ve gotten old as have those of us who’ve been Cream fans since they were called “The Cream” on the first album jacket. And face it, youth be served, they haven’t the raw power they once had.
Only in retrospect do you realize how much The Guess Who’s sound drew from Creedence Clearwater Revival. That’s fine, because only in retrospect do you realize how much of what sounded new and unique when you were immersed in it, was really formulaic and sometimes trite.
Compilations are an ugly concept on vinyl. Either analog copy tapes have been strung together to create a cutting master or digital copies of masters are electronically assembled to produce the same cutting master. Once in a black and blue moon, original masters are removed from their reels and strung together to produce cutting masters made from original master tapes, but those are few and few between and almost impossible to make. They’re rare because few companies allow precious masters to be cut up and because unless the tunes were recorded in the same studio on the same impeccably maintained recorder, it’s very difficult if not impossible to cut a lacquer where the record/playback head’s azimuth changes from track to track.
The Who recorded their “sell out” concept album in the fall of 1967 at around the same time Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention were in the studio creating We’re Only In It For The Money. Coincidence? Collusion? A general feeling among like-minded rock cognoscenti that rock musicians were getting self-righteous, self-absorbed and that after all it’s only rock’n’roll?
True to the label’s intentions and name, Zane Musa is a muscular-toned, “straight ahead” alto sax bopper, accompanied on this superb sounding disc by like-minded Southern California jazz musicians on a set of well worn but always comfortable jazz standards.
One can imagine Chan Marshall sitting herself down in a darkened, candle-lit Ardent Studios in Memphis, singing these melancholic songs in late night sessions stretching until dawn.