Archive Review: Mitch Ryder’s Detroit Ain’t Dead Yet (The Promise) (2009)

The Legendary Mitch Ryder

 

Back in the fall of 1980, when Detroit rocker Bob Seger was riding high on the charts and packin’ ‘em into the stadiums with his Against the Wind album, he sold out every show during an unheard-of nine-night stand in the Motor City. For these triumphant homecoming shows, Seger hand-picked Detroit rock ‘n’ soul legend Mitch Ryder as his opener, a gracious act that jump-started Ryder’s second shot at the brass ring.

Born William Levise, Jr. in Hamtramck, a city within the city limits of Detroit, Ryder got his start singing as a teen with a local soul band named the Peps before forming his own Billy Lee and the Rivieras. Discovered in 1965 by producer Bob Crewe, the band was re-named Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, and they would go on to score a string of early hits like “Jenny Take A Ride,” “C.C. Rider,” and “Devil with A Blue Dress On.” When the hits dried up, Ryder made the sojourn to Memphis to record the amazing The Detroit/Memphis Experiment with Booker T and the M.G.’s in 1969.

Mitch Ryder’s Detroit Ain’t Dead Yet (The Promise)

Returning home, Ryder put together the ground-breaking rock outfit Detroit, which released a single 1971 album that yielded a hit with an energetic cover of Lou Reed’s “Rock and Roll.” By 1973, though, Ryder was experiencing problems with his voice, and he retired from music. He still had the itch, however, and his self-produced 1978 comeback album How I Spent My Vacation led to the aforementioned gigs opening for Seger; more indie releases; a major label deal and a John Mellencamp-produced, critically-acclaimed album that went nowhere fast. Although Ryder’s overshadowing influence could be heard in ‘80s-era hits from folks like Seger, Mellencamp, and Springsteen, the man couldn’t get arrested with his own work.

Flash forward almost 30 years and, much like the gardens that are starting to crop up in the abandoned lots around the urban wasteland formerly known as Detroit, Mitch Ryder is still punching away at success. He never really went anywhere you know…Ryder remained somewhat of a star in Europe, and he has continued to record and release albums to the present day. In the closing days of 2009, he teamed with producer Don Was – another Motor City talent – to record Detroit Ain’t Dead Yet (The Promise) in L.A. with a top notch batch of musicians. Working with a set of largely original songs, Ryder has delivered a spirited performance that equals his mid-1980s creative peak.      

Ryder’s calling card has always been his uncanny ability to blend blues, soul, and rock ‘n’ roll into a single artistic entity, and it’s no different on Detroit Ain’t Dead Yet (The Promise). Ryder’s whiskey-soaked vocals still ooze with blue-eyed soul better than anybody ever has; nowhere is this more evident than on the album-opening track, the semi-autobiographical “Back Then.” Ryder’s vox slip-n-slide across a funky soundtrack with characteristic swagger, growling when necessary and hitting the high notes when appropriate as the band lays down a vicious groove.

And so it goes…the Southern-fried soul of “My Heart Belongs To Me” benefits from some Steve Cropper-styled geetar pickin’, a lively rhythmic backdrop, and Ryder’s passionate vocals. The intelligent, sometimes shocking “Junkie Love” is a frank discussion of addiction that benefits from 1970s-styled rolling funk-n-soul instrumentation, lively vocals, and Randy Jacobs’ squealing fretwork. A beautiful cover of the great Jimmy Ruffin soul gem “What Becomes of the Broken Hearted” was recorded live and showcases Ryder’s emotion-tugging vocal abilities while “The Way We Were” is a haunting, topical tale of society’s decline that rocks as hard as it rolls.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Detroit Ain’t Dead Yet (The Promise) isn’t an exploitative cash-grab taking advantage of some over-the-hill, broken-and-broke-ass rocker. No, this is the one-and-only Mitch Ryder, still kicking ass and taking names at age 65, delivering a monster set of songs that combine the artist’s 1960s rock ‘n’ soul roots with his edgy 1980s solo work. With a sympathetic producer in Don Was, who worked with Ryder in the 1990s with his own Motor City band Was (Not Was), Ryder is able to make a late-career statement that stands tall alongside anything he’s ever done. Detroit ain’t dead yet, and neither is Mitch Ryder… (Freeworld Records/Floating World Records, 2009)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine, 2009…

Archive Review: Slim Cessna's Auto Club's The Bloudy Tenent, Truth & Peace (2004)

Slim Cessna’s Auto Club blends punk attitude with Gospel fervor, traditional C&W roots, and rockabilly riffs, creating a mutant strain of spiritual music that sounds like it was brewed up in some mountain hollow. Cessna is the band’s main vocalist and songwriter, a prophet without honor with a background seeped in mystery. The rest of the band – Rev. Glasseye, Munly Munly, Tim Maher, Dwight Pentacost, and Judithann – aptly support Cessna’s musical ministry. As you might guess, the lyrical direction of The Bloudy Tenet, Truth  & Peace concerns itself with sin and salvation, the benefits of a simple country life and the evils of modern society. A thought-provoking collection of songs by a talented if slightly off-center band, The Bloudy Tenet, Truth & Peace is unlike anything you’ll hear this year. Gospel music from Hell’s half acre? Joyful noise from the Devil’s playground? Only the Lord hisself can judge… (Alternative Tentacles Records, 2004)

Review originally published by Jersey Beat zine...

Archive Review: Motörhead’s Motörizer (2008)

Just one question: why isn’t Motörhead in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? If there was ever a band that epitomizes the road warrior ethic, a lifelong dedication to the rock ‘n’ roll muse, it’s this gang. Motörhead’s 24th album, Motörizer provides another good argument for the band’s ticket to Cleveland. These songs don’t just sit there on the slab o’ plastic like some stinkin’ corpse, they leap out of your speakers with bloodlust, a knife in their teeth and evil on today’s “to do” list. Lemmy’s liquor-soaked blues-metal growl is complimented by Filthy Phil’s napalm-strength fretwork while drummer Mikkey Dee delivers a good old-fashioned mugging. Songs like the pub-rocking “English Rose” or the brutal “Buried Alive” are landmines itching to trigger, displaying a mix of punk attitude and metallic overkill. Motörizer is a hellbound train, with Lemmy K at the helm…hold on for the ride of your life! (Steamhammer Records/SPV Music, released August 26th, 2008)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine, 2008...

Archive Review: Bill Janovitz & Crown Victoria's Fireworks On TV! (2004)

Alt-rock veteran Bill Janovitz – late of the Boston band Buffalo Tom – originally formed Crown Victoria as a vehicle for his solo efforts. Recording during the downtime from his critically-acclaimed major label band, Janovitz’s solo work eventually eclipsed the band’s vision and, as things are wont to do in rock ‘n’ roll, Crown Victoria eventually became a full-time pursuit. Fireworks On TV! is the band’s third album, a mature and fully-realized group effort, the tight chemistry between Janovitz and his bandmates showcased on tunes like “Almost Beating” and the eclectic “One Two Three.”

Janovitz’s musical milieu definitely falls into the folk-rock vein, with a little alt-country twang and alt-rock guitar pyrotechnics thrown in to spice things up a bit. An engaging songwriter of no little folk influence, Janovitz has an eye for the minutiae of daily life and the complexities of human relationships. As frontman for Crown Victoria, however, Janovitz nevertheless enjoys the crashing of cymbals, chiming guitars and the Fort Apache studio approximation of Phil Spector’s “wall of sound.” Fireworks On TV! is a smart, hard-rocking and entertaining effort, Janovitz and Crown Victoria ready for prime-time and a higher profile in indie-rock circles. (Q Division Records, 2004)

Review originally published by Jersey Beat zine...

Archive Review: Bill Chinnock’s Badlands (1977 / 2008)

Long before CBS Records tried to remake him into the next Bruce Springsteen (no, I dunno why…maybe one wasn’t enough?), Bill Chinnock was one of the last of the young soul rebels. Pursuing a houserockin’ sound that was equally indebted to the Chicago blooze blast of Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf as it was to Chuck Berry’s three-chord Sturm und Drang, Chinnock was a white bluesman – born in New Jersey, sure, but his heart was beating pure Delta grit.

One of John Hammond’s many discoveries, Chinnock made his bones as part of the Asbury Park mafia, playing in various boardwalk bands with future and present E Streeters like Danny Federici, Gary Tallent, and Vini “Mad Dog” Lopez during the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. At Hammond’s recommendation, Chinnock exiled himself to Maine to work on his wordplay, later emerging as the East Coast poet laureate, his new songs matching intelligent lyrics to a raucous soundtrack that translated well to the stage and made him a bigger performance draw than the Boss during the mid-‘70s.

Bill Chinnock’s Badlands

Of Chinnock’s 1975 debut album, Blues, Hammond said “listening to Bill Chinnock sing blues brings back the days of the old Paramount label with Ma Rainey,” and he oughta know ‘cause John Senior was there in person. Following a live set, Badlands was Chinnock’s third album, originally self-released and the one that finally caught the attention of the suite-sitters at Atlantic Records. The label signed B.C. to what seemed to be a creatively-advantageous deal, bought up all the copies of Badlands floating around the Northeast, and reissued the album with naught but a few additional flourishes.

Not that Badlands needed much tinkering, mind you, the album emerging from Chinnock’s artistic psyche pretty much perfectly intact. The album-opening “Outlaw” is smoky big-band R&B revue stuff, with funky hornplay and Chinnock’s soulful vox shouted out above a driving rhythm. Chinnock sounds like a cross between Tom Waits and David Clayton-Thomas on “Another Man Gone Down,” the sound of heartbreak carved with tears into the grooves of the record. Jazzy guitars and dancing synths sit atop a vaguely disco rhythm, but “Something For Everybody” is a bad-luck tale of homeless life in 1978 America that retains its optimism and hope in the face of desperation, stating “the streets are filled with money, the sidewalks paved in gold.”

Chinnock’s “Crazy Ol’ Rock ‘N Roll Man” is a brilliantly-painted rock ‘n’ soul anthem for every bar band and rock star hopeful that ever climbed onto a ramshackle stage while “Prisoner” is pure ‘70s-era R&B cheese, all soulman tease and ready-to-please with the Brecker Brothers holding down a funkified bottom end while Chinnock’s lusty voice soars just below the clouds. Chinnock’s relationship with Atlantic went downhill fast after the label ignored Badlands in favor of a fresh album, one for which the singer felt they were trying to push his normally rhythmic, soul-driven sound into a more disco-oriented direction when all he wanted to do was RAWK!

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Slamming the door behind him on the way out, Chinnock returned to the indie hinterlands save for the mid-‘80s travesty that was his CBS Records deal, enjoying a lengthy and productive career in music, video and graphic arts until his death in 2007. Badlands remains a favorite with Chinnock’s loyal fans, a soulful romp down the lost highway that separates rhythm & blues and rock ‘n’ roll, the album displaying the attitude of both. (Collectors’ Choice Music, reissued August 12th, 2008)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine, 2008

Archive Review: Nick Gravenites’ Bluestar (2009)

His name might not be familiar to the average blues fan, but you really can’t challenge Nick Gravenites’ credentials. He was part of a circle of blues-loving white musicians in Chicago during the early 1960s that included Paul Butterfield and Mike Bloomfield. He was schooled by some of the biggest names and talents in the city, including Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, and Otis Rush. His songs have been recorded by folks like the Wolf and James Cotton, and his classic “Born In Chicago,” performed by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, earned him his ticket into the Blues Hall of Fame.

One of the reasons that Gravenites is not the best-known of Chicago’s young blues turks is because he recorded so infrequently on his own. Gravenites released his solo debut, My Labors, in 1969 between touring and recording with Big Brother & the Holding Company. He didn’t get around to releasing his sophomore album, Bluestar, until 1980. Working with a band that included some of the San Francisco Bay area’s best talents, including bassist Pete Sears (Jefferson Starship), harmonica player Huey Lewis, and his Gravenites-Cipollina Band collaborator John Cipollina (Quicksilver Messenger Service), Gravenites delivered a stellar set of rockin’ blues tunes.   

Nick Gravenites’ Bluestar

Gravenites’ “Junkyard In Malibu” is a good measure of the artist’s songwriting skills, a sly song that posits a junkyard in the high-priced enclave of Malibu, California that serves as an analogy for a love gone bad. Gravenites’ gravel-throated vocals are complimented by a funky, swaggering rhythm while he and guitarist Cipollina swap Southern-fried licks back and forth. The mid-tempo “I’m A Bluesman” draws the Mississippi Delta roots out of the Chicago blues to deliver a down-and-dirty declaration that is supported by some fiery fretwork and Huey Lewis’s surprisingly supple harp playing.

The smoldering “Blues Back Off” is a slow dance across the history of the blues, Gravenites’ soulful vocals bolstered by Sears’ subtle keyboard flourishes, drummer Joey Covington’s steady beats, and a blistering guitar solo slightly more than two minutes in that channels decades of R&B soul into six strings and several measures of gorgeous tone. By comparison, “Who’s Out There” is a good old-fashioned Chicago blues styled romp, with the rhythm section kicking out a rapid, foot-stomping pace and Lewis blasting out a wild harp riff. The guitar solo here – I’m guessing that it’s Gravenites – sounds like Buddy Guy in his prime, full of energy and passion.

Remembering The Southside

The wild boogie-rocker “My Party” takes its cue from John Lee Hooker with a mesmerizing rhythm, walking bass line, and swamp-blues flavored vocals while the semi-autobiographical “Southside” is Gravenites’ account of those raucous early ‘60s nights in Chicago’s blues clubs. With a deliberate beat and staggering rhythm guitar, the song is as entertaining as it is boastful.

Of the three bonus tracks included on this first-time CD release of Bluestar, the slippery “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” is the best, its somber vocals and serpentine slide-guitar matched by a dark-hued ambiance and driving rhythm. What the live “Rattlecan Man” lacks in sound quality it more than makes up for with pure reckless energy, the mid-tempo traditional blues number benefiting from a swinging rhythm and shocks of sharp-edged guitar.  

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Because he’s working in a traditional blues medium that has changed little in 50+ years, there’s a lot on Nick Gravenites’ Bluestar that will sound familiar to the experienced blues fan. On the other hand, it’s exactly for this reason that much of Bluestar sounds as fresh and contemporary today as it did in 1980. Gravenites’ guitarwork is solid and, at times, downright scary good, while his songwriting is never anything less than entertaining. This is timeless blues and blues-rock music, and if you’ve never heard of Nick Gravenites, or you’ve heard of him and always been curious, you’ll find Bluestar to be a pleasant surprise. (Renaissance Records/It’s About Music, 2009)

CD Review: White Animals' Star Time (2024)

The White Animals were one of the first original rock bands to hit the fledgling late ‘70s Nashville rock scene, and they remained one of the most popular regional acts throughout much of the 1980s. The White Animals’ dub-styled college radio-friendly cover of “These Boots Are Made For Walking” brought the Nancy Sinatra oldie to an entirely different generation but all too often overshadows the truth that the White Animals were one of the first bands to take lessons from Prince Tubby and Lee “Scratch” Perry by incorporating Jamaican dub influence into what were inherently rock ‘n’ roll songs before the Clash, the Police, or even Killing Joke did so…  

Beneath the novelty and the cover songs, however, was the beating heart of a skilled and creative rock ‘n’ roll band in thrall to a myriad of influences. As the band’s primary songwriters Kevin Gray and Steve Boyd grew in confidence, so too did their original material display heightened boldness and sophistication, albums like 1982’s Lost Weekend, 1984’s Ecstasy, their self-titled 1986 LP, and 1987 swansong, In the Last Days, worthy of reissuing and rediscovery by a new generation. After a seven-year run that included video airplay on MTV and opening slots for bands like the Ramones and Talking Head, the band split up. A modestly-successful, 17-song compilation CD titled 3,000 Nites In Babylon was released in 2000, followed shortly thereafter by a 2001 studio album, The White Animals.

White Animals’ Star Time

Flash-forward 23 years and White Animals (no “The” this time) have released their first studio album in decades in Star Time, a fab 12-song collection that – no surprise, really – shows that the band hasn’t lost a step during its lengthy hiatus. Featuring four/fifths of the original band (keyboardist Tim Coats is AWOL), Star Time provides 37 jam-packed minutes of high-octane rock ‘n’ roll cheap thrills. Album-opener “My Baby Put Me On the Shelf” is the best 1960s-inspired garage-rock rave-up that was never recorded by the Seeds, with Rich Parks and Kevin Gray’s screeching guitarplay propelled by the dynamite rhythm section of bassist Steve Boyd and drummer Ray Crabtree, the band delivering hints of the vocal harmonies they’re capable of embellishing their material with.

Star Time only gets better from this point forward … “In A Post-Apocalyptic World (Would You Be My Girl?)” is a delightfully wry power-pop tune with great vocals and an infectious melody while “Ready To Go” is a bluesy romper-stomper with the best use of echo that I’ve heard since my bong-influenced wayward youth. The Delta-dirty “Chanty” is even bluesier, with serpentine guitar and eerie, prison-gang styled call-and-response vocals. It’s a cool performance with an undeniable presence that unexpectedly switches gears mid-song. “I Tried Like Heck” is vintage White Animals, an unabashed pop song with a rock ‘n’ roll edge, inventive fretwork underlining the vocals, and a driving rhythm that’s heavy on Crabtree’s powerful big beats. The heartbreak of “Back Around” is pure 1980s-era college radio rock with a popish vibe, wistful vocals, and rich instrumentation which weaves a gorgeous melody from the chaos.

Something the White Animals did sparingly back in the day was any song with a hint of country influence (they were young soul rebels living in Nashville), but the twangy country-rock of “When It All Came Down” is provided a counterpoint in Parks’ biting, caustic guitar licks. The song’s honky-tonk rhythms and rootsy Americana sound feel like a road untraveled. The jaunty, up-tempo “Unlucky In Love” evinces a similar alt-country pathos and seems more tongue-in-cheek than its predecessor, if no less entertaining. It wouldn’t be a White Animals album without a fanciful cover tune, and for Star Time that’s a mesmerizing, electrifying dub-styled version of “Man of Constant Sorrow” (titled “Man of Constant Dread”). Suffice it to say that previous covers of the antique folk gem by the Stanly Brothers, Bob Dylan, or even Ginger Baker’s Air Force sounded nothing like this.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

There’s really not a duff song to be found on Star Time, which finds the White Animals to be every bit as daring, creative, and carefree as the best of their 1980s-era albums. I don’t know why they never got a major label deal back in the day – maybe they didn’t really want one, preferring their independent Dread Beat label and the freedom it provided – but the White Animals in their prime were every bit as good as better-known contemporaries like Violent Femmes, They Might Be Giants, or Camper Von Beethoven while sounding absolutely like none of them. Star Time rocks from start to finish and, hopefully, the guys won’t wait another 23 years before rewarding their fans with another banger of an album! (Dread Beat Records, 2024)

Buy Star Time directly from the band!

Archive Review: Mike Ness's Under The Influences (1999)

Completing the creative circle that he began earlier this year with the release of his first solo disc, Cheating At Solitaire, Mike Ness delivers his late ‘90s version of Bowie’s Pin-Ups with Under the Influences. Country and rockabilly influences were much in evidence on Cheating At Solitaire, and really seem to provide a comfortable fit for Ness. Although firmly identified with his punk persona as the gravel-voiced, guitar-bashing frontman for the twenty-year-old Social Distortion, Ness is, at heart, one of those greasy guys from down the street with his “Born To Lose” tattoo and an oil-dripping, high-powered Mopar muscle car in the yard. Since I grew up with those guys in the rural outskirts of Nashville, as did Ness, I can readily identify with his gradual evolution back to his roots.

Under the Influences focuses on the country, honky-tonk, and rockabilly music that Ness has come to love and throws out inspired covers of folks like Hank Williams (naturally), Harlan Howard, Carl Perkins, and Marty Robbins, among others. The performances are delivered with passion and energy, bridging the musical gap between the natural early rebelliousness of C & W and surly punk attitude. Not that these are punked-up covers, mind you – Ness plays it straight, with reverent readings of such classics as Robbins’ “Big Iron,” Wanda Jackson’s “Funnel of Love” (also covered nicely this year by former punk diva Rosie Flores), and Bobby’s Fuller’s “I Fought the Law.” Under the Influences closes with a cowpunk version of Social D’s own “Ball And Chain.” It’s an overall spirited effort, and if Ness and crew turn one young punk poseur onto Hank or Marty with Under the Influences, then their work here is done. (Time Bomb Recordings)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine, 1999

Archive Review: Down By Law’s Punkrockdays (2002)

When the members of Down By Law decided to assemble a career retrospective, they didn’t just do it themselves; they brought their fans into the process, asking them to vote for their favorite DBL songs on the band’s web site. The highest scoring tunes appear on Punkrockdays, the band’s “best of” compilation. The resulting song selection may not be the best representation of the band’s talents – it certainly shortchanges their more political material – but it is certainly representative of the songs the band’s audience is listening to.

Down By Law’s Punkrockdays

Formed in 1990 by former Dag Nasty/All vocalist Dave Smalley and members of the Chemical People, Down By Law were one of the trailblazing bands in the field of melodic punk, that is hardcore roots paired with pop influences. True, the movement has led to atrocities like Sum-41 and most of the Drive Thru label roster, but it has also yielded some fine bands in Green Day and the Offspring. DBL were there at the beginning, though, and Punkrockdays chronicles the first decade of the band’s career, drawing material from all five of the band’s Epitaph label albums (no songs from their 2000 Go Kart release are included here, tho’).

The quality of the songs on Punkrockdays varies, since the band’s players have changed frequently through the years, the line-up not really gelling until adding guitarist Sam Williams III for DBL’s breakthrough third album, punkrockacademyfightsong. None of the songs here are bad, just that some – like “Radio Ragga,” “Independence Day,” and “No Equalizer” – stand out as really good tunes. Smalley is an exceptional punk rock vocalist and a solid, accessible songwriter, his lyrics nailing the concerns and hopes of his audience.

Williams has the best chops of the band’s different guitarists, outshining even Dag Nasty’s Brian Baker, who appears on “Goodnight Song.” Williams shows a better chemistry with frontman Smalley, covering his vocals like a comfortable wool blanket. DBL is also quite well-known for their cover performances, and readings of the Proclaimers’ hit “500 Miles” and Big Country’s “In A Big Country” are played straight and are actually quite fun, DBL showing the pop side of its roots and influences.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Down By Law are still going strong – a Dag Nasty reunion album notwithstanding – the band continuing to appeal to new fans and increase its audience with electric live shows and songs like those showcased by Punkrockdays. For any punk fan unfamiliar with Down By Law, this is the place to begin listening, discovering the charm and talent that have made DBL a household name in fine punk rock homes everywhere. (Epitaph Records, released 2002)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™

Archive Review: Various Artists - CBGB’s and the Birth of Punk (2002)

A fleabit Bowery dive every bit as filthy as its reputation makes it out to be, CBGB’s has earned its place in history as the nursery school of punk rock. The Reverend made his pilgrimage to this rock ‘n’ roll mecca back in ‘82, hitting the club with some friends after a long night drinking pitchers of Rolling Rock at the Village’s Rooftop Tavern with the ghost of Jackson Pollock. The bands were largely unknown (tho’ the Dancin’ Hoods did subsequently make a couple good albums), the beer was warm and CBGB’s bathroom was worse than any Southern truckstop I’d ever thrown up in.

To top it all off, I left behind the umbrella I had bought on the street from a Korean grocer earlier that day. ‘Course, by 1982, Joey, Stiv, Debbie and Richard had shuffled off to greener pastures and even Lester had left this mortal coil. CBGB’s was still the coolest place on the planet to be at that moment and if we experienced even a little of the club’s famed vibe, it was worth the sojourn.   
   

CBGB’s and the Birth of Punk

The club’s legend, of course, is not based on its ambiance (dark and smelly) or even its shithole bathrooms (proudly pictured on a CBGB’s T-shirt available on the club’s web site). The many talented bands that graced the stage at CBGB’s in the early-to-late seventies is what earned the club and its proprietor Hilly Krystal a place in rock ‘n’ roll history. As outlined in British music journalist Johnny Chandler’s liner notes for CBGB’s and the Birth of U.S. Punk, Krystal originally opened the club in 1973 in New York’s run-down Bowery district as a venue for “Country, Bluegrass and Blues” (CBGB). Crowds weren’t exactly queuing up to buy tickets for the club so when Television’s Tom Verlaine and Richard Hell approached Krystal in early ‘74 about becoming a sort of house band, playing the same night every week, he agreed. Soon folks like the Ramones, Debbie Harry, and Patti Smith were hanging out, performing, and creating a music scene that would have worldwide impact. Krystal was never afraid to book unsigned bands, thus opening the club up to the best and the brightest talents from across the country.

Compiled by Chandler, the U.K. CD release of CBGB’s and the Birth of U.S. Punk offers up a dozen and a half tracks, ranging from important punk antecedents like the Velvet Underground and the Stooges to 1960s-era garage bands like the Seeds and the Sonics. A fair representation of homegrown N.Y.C. talent is included, such as the New York Dolls (who frequently performed at the Mercer rather than CBGB), Suicide, Johnny Thunders & the Heartbreakers, and the Ramones. Some of the big names associated with the club are included, such as Blondie, the Dead Boys, and Television, represented here by an unreleased live version of “Friction” actually recorded in New Jersey.

Licensing difficulties obviously influenced the track selection, since there’s nothing here from the Talking Heads or Patti Smith, both important CBGB’s attractions back in the day. Cleveland’s Electric Eels and Pere Ubu merit inclusion, both bands having made an important trek to New York to perform at the club. Chandler’s odd choice of a Dead Kennedys’ song – certainly better suited to a West Coast punk rock compilation – stands out quite starkly. CBGB’s and the Birth of U.S. Punk is meant to provide an audio history of both the NYC scene and its impact on what would later become known as “punk rock.” Chandler has done a fairly admirable job in assembling the compilation, tracing the evolution of punk’s first generation from its ‘60s roots to its inevitable early 1980s conclusion as it crashed-and-burned under the weight of its own ambitions.

Touchstones In Rock ‘n’ Roll History

However, do we really a document such as this? Of the artists included on the CD that actually haunted the CBGB’s stage at some time, only a handful of them made it into the 1980s intact, and only the Ramones and Pere Ubu stretched a career into the ‘90s. Although nearly every band featured here had some small degree of influence on modern music, most are merely the favorites of aging and overwrought critics and record collectors with too much time on their hands. Likewise, the dubious influence of bands such as the Velvet Underground, the New York Dolls, the 13th Floor Elevators, and Television is overstated – none experienced a significant enough commercial presence to influence listeners beyond their inner circle. They are touchstones in rock ‘n’ roll history – more people are familiar with their names than with their music.   

Ask the average fan of, say, Down By Law or Pennywise about CBGB’s and they might mumble something about the Ramones and not much else. Although still offering live bands seven days a week, I’d bet the farm that Krystal makes more money hawking CBGB’s T-shirts online than he does from the club’s take at the door. CBGB is a symbol of a long-passed era, an aberration in time rather than a thriving creative venue. The legendary Cantrell’s club in Nashville provides as much the same sort of looking glass into the past for Music City scenesters. The club featured national acts like the Replacements alongside local talents like Jason & the Scorchers and the White Animals during the 1980s. In both cases, the long-term influence of either CBGB or Cantrell’s on their city’s local music scenes is inconsequential beyond their status as brief historical curiosities.  

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

The British fascination with the roots of punk (or sixties garage rock, for that matter) is admirable, especially considering American fast-food culture that ignores the past in favor of a bright, shining present. There comes a time, however, when we have to stop obsessing with the past. I like the New York Dolls, the Stooges, Television, and the Ramones every bit as much as the next fellow, but it is unlikely that yet another compilation featuring these artists is going to change the world, much less attract many new listeners.

CBGB’s, the club, and the punk rock era that it ushered in has been documented to death. Being the consummate record geek, the Reverend bought a copy of CBGB’s and the Birth of U.S. Punk just like many of you. However, from my seat, the compilation smells like a rotting corpse, Chandler’s erstwhile efforts akin to necrophilia. Your money is better spent on a White Stripes CD or perhaps a Ramones reissue. (Ocho Records, released April 8th, 2002)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™

Archive Review: Mary Cutrufello’s When the Night Is Through (1998)

“Heartland” rock ruled the roost during the ‘80, dominating the charts and blazing a fearsome trail through the arenas and stadiums of Middle America. This roots-based style of rock ‘n’ roll, once practiced by folks like Bruce Springsteen, Bob Seger, and John Mellencamp, has today become sadly passe. Not because there was anything fundamentally wrong with the music. The cynicism of the early ‘90s, perhaps best illustrated by Kurt Cobain and Nirvana and their many clones, has given way to an entirely market-driven pop music landscape that is light, fluffy, non-controversial and, well, coldly calculated to separate the fools, er…record buying public from their hard-earned coin. There’s no room at the inn for gritty, optimistic, realistic, guitar-driven rock ‘n’ roll…

Mary Cutrufello’s When the Night Is Through

An entirely engaging debut from an unabashed Springsteen fan, Mary Cutrufello – a young African-American woman – makes with When the Night Is Through the best case yet for the equality and liberation provided by rock music. Working in a vein that is definitely “heartland” influenced, Cutrufello belts out songs of love and betrayal, the weariness of life’s burdens and the endless possibilities of two lanes of smooth blacktop like a character out of a Springsteen song. Like most debuts, When the Night Is Through has its flaws, mostly due to Cutrufello’s unchained exuberance.

But when Cutrufello hits the bull’s eye – such as with the bittersweet “Tired and Thirty” or the anthemic “Tonight’s the Night” – she creates an emotional mix of lyrics and music that is universally appealing and overtly optimistic in the face of overwhelming circumstances. It’s this lyrical ability to relate realistic common themes that made heartland rock so popular with the mass of working class fans in the first place, fans that have been ill served these past few years by vacuous pop and over-promoted, pre-fabricated trends like electronica.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Definitely out-of-step with musical trends and cultural currents, Cutrufello marches to the beat of her own different drummer. Whether she represents the first ripples in a new wave of heartland rock or is merely a musical anomaly, Cutrufello feels the passion that drove such rockers as Bruce Springsteen, Joe Grushecky, or John Mellencamp to create great music. Like she says in “Tonight’s the Night”: “I’m almost 22 and I’m old enough to know/’bout the fire in my heart and the fever in my soul…” It’s a testament to Cutrufello’s talent and charisma that she got to buck the trends and make When the Night Is Through in the first place. I’m willing to bet that we’ll hear more from this young talent in the future. (Mercury  Records, released 1998)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™

Hot Wax: James Cotton, Junior Wells, Carey Bell & Billy Branch’s Harp Attack! (1990/2024)

The blues as a commercially viable style of music seemed to be in pretty good shape in 1990. The blues boom of the 1980s – stoked by the critical acclaim heaped upon, and the commercial success of guitarists like Stevie Ray Vaughan and Robert Cray – would lead to a crop of innovative young artists like Joe Bonamassa and Kenny Wayne Shepherd. Blues greats of the 1950s and ‘60s like B.B. King and Buddy Guy were still touring constantly to large crowds, and independent blues labels such as Rooster Blues and Black Top Records were thriving, releasing albums from lesser-known, but talented bluesmen and women.

Chicago’s Alligator Records label was still truckin’ along at the dawn of the 1990s, releasing albums during the decade from a diverse roster of blues talent that included Koko Taylor, Charlie Musselwhite, Lil’ Ed & the Blues Imperials, and Lonnie Brooks, among many others. Never the wallflower, label head Bruce Iglauer wasn’t opposed to musical experiments that may or may not pay off in the marketplace. For instance, Showdown – a 1985 collaboration between Albert Collins, Robert Cray, and Johnny Copeland – sold well and earned the label its second Grammy™ Award. So, when Iglauer brought four harp masters together in the studio in 1990, he had great expectations for the resulting album.

Cotton, Wells, Bell & Branch’s Harp Attack!

James Cotton

Originally released in 1990 and now reissued on vinyl, Harp Attack! was the result of four recording sessions that brought together some of the finest contemporary harmonica players in the blues in James Cotton, Junior Wells, Carey Bell, and Billy Branch. While Cotton and Wells were both bona fide legends by 1990, Bell was less well-known but no less respected by the blues cognoscenti. Branch was the “kid” of the group, who had grown up listening to, and learning from the music of the others. It was a challenge bringing the four talented instrumentalists into the studio for, as Iglauer said in an interview with this writer, “bringing harmonica players together isn’t really the same thing as bringing guitar players together, because the concept of chording or rhythm harmonica isn’t there, it’s primarily a solo instrument.”

Still, Iglauer managed to nudge, coax, and coerce great performances from all the artists involved, even getting some fine rhythm harp behind the individual lead solos. Harp Attack! opens with the swinging “Down Home Blues,” a perfect showcase for the assembled talents, and everybody gets their turn in the spotlight. Cotton sings the first verse, and delivers a languid, lazy, but steady-flowing harp solo before handing it over to youngster Billy Branch. While Branch’s vocals aren’t as assured as Cotton’s, his solo is razor-sharp and high flying. Wells is the best vocalist of the bunch, and knocks his verse out before launching into a short, shocking solo. Bell delivers strong vocals and a red-hot solo before Cotton, Wells, and Branch play the song out. Each harpist provides a unique tone and viewpoint to their solo, giving the song the feel of an extended blues jam as they riff on top of Lucky Peterson’s piano and Michael Coleman’s subtle six-string fills.

Tribute to Sonny Boy Williamson

Junior Wells

Even in 1990, you couldn’t record an album of blues harp without paying tribute to the great Sonny Boy Williamson (Rice Miller). Junior Wells does the honors here, cranking out an inspired cover of Williamson’s “Keep Your Hands Out of My Pockets,” mangling the words with his typically soulful drawl, punctuating his vocals with fluid solos that perfectly capture the emotion and impact of the song. The trio of Cotton, Wells, and Branch take on the Delta blues gem “Little Car Blues,” Coleman injecting some tasty fretwork behind Cotton’s lively vocals. As Wells and Branch provide background fills, Cotton’s solo soars above the fray, breathless and bold. By contrast, Wells’ solo here flies low to the ground, hitting your senses like a passing locomotive.

Wells takes the spotlight again on his original “Somebody Changed the Lock,” the song’s jaunty, up-tempo arrangement a perfect foil for his understated vocals and fast-flying harp notes. Coleman and bassist Johnny Gayden lay down a funky rhythmic undercurrent, drummer Ray Allison adds a few well-timed beats, and Peterson’s fingers dash across the keys, but it’s Wells’ game, and his solos are effective and efficient. Bell takes the fore on his “Second Hand Man,” a better showcase for his hearty vocals and his blistering, Big Walter Horton-inspired harp style. Harp Attack! closes with Branch’s “New Kid On the Block,” the 39-year-old “rookie” of the group writing his own ticket with a raucous, biographical Chicago blues rave-up that evokes the best of Wells and Cotton, with a stylistic nod to Little Walter amidst Branch’s rowdy vocals and spirited harp play.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

The harmonica has a lengthy and respected tradition in blues music, and its role as a lead instrument is second only to the guitar in blues history. From the earliest days of the Mississippi Delta blues, when traveling bluesmen would tuck a “mouth harp” in their pocket and grab a train, through the 1950s when giants like Little Walter and Sonny Boy Williamson brought new popularity for the instrument, to 1960s-era trailblazers like Junior Wells and Paul Butterfield, the harmonica has become ingrained in the music.

Harp Attack! features some of the most spirited and energetic performances you’ll hear on any blues album, and you’ll find few players better than the four artists showcased here. If you’re a fan of blues harp – and who isn’t – this mighty (and essential) record should own real estate in your collection. (Alligator Records, reissued September 13th, 2024)

Buy the record direct from Alligator: Cotton, Wells, Bell & Branch’s Harp Attack!

Album Review: Calidoscopio’s Scorpio Rising (2024)

Cultural ‘Cassandras’ have been bemoaning the state of rock ‘n’ roll for much of the past two decades. Critics all but declared the genre D.O.A. at the turn of the century and have since ignored evidence to the contrary in the form of red-hot albums from rockers like Joe Grushecky, Redd Kross, Jack White, Guided By Voices, and Dream Syndicate, to name but a few, over the past couple of years. There are newer R&R acolytes the road and in the studio, too, young soul rebels like Beach Slang, Fontaines D.C., Wet Leg, and King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. Rock ‘n’ roll isn’t dead and buried, it’s not even in a coma; it just went underground, much as it did during the disco years, or in the commercial aftermath of grunge.

Among the plethora of underground bands genuflecting at the altar of rock ‘n’ roll are what I like to call the “Children of Nuggets” (or maybe the “Grandchildren” at this point, as the 50th anniversary of the release of the original, influential Nuggets album has come and gone…). These are bands that, while influenced by the sounds of the swinging ‘60s – pop, rock, blues, garage, and psychedelic – are nevertheless putting their own spin on vintage vibrations, not only breathing new life into antiquated styles, but creating new paths to take these genres into the future. One such “grandchild” that is blazing new trails is Rochester, New York’s Calidoscopio, a multi-national, trans-oceanic outfit fronted by producer and multi-instrumentalist Dave Anderson and including German guitarist Oliver Hilbers and drummer Knuth Hildebrandt.

Calidoscopio’s Scorpio Rising

Calidoscopio released its fantastic debut album Get Ready! back in 2021, about which this scribe wrote at the time, “Calidoscopio’s Get Ready! provides a mind-bending trip back to the future with a timeless sound that is both familiar and yet innovative.” Giving the LP another spin prior to penning this review, I stand by my words. Scorpio Rising is the band’s sophomore effort, four years in the making and, if anything, more mind-blowing than its predecessor. Leaping right out of your speakers with the opening track, “I’m Higher Than I’m Down,” the listener is caught in a sonic-swirl that bodychecks your senses like a proto-Hawkwind, blending Seeds-like garage-rock riffs with hyper psychedelic space-rock flourishes that leave you reeling from the first note to the last.

Giving no quarter, “Shadows of the Moonlight” is more garage-y in feel, with a steady cacophony of drumbeats and an infectious guitar riff that falls prey to a killer solo that cuts with tooth and claw. “Burn A Hole” pairs clever lyrics with a novel vocal delivery above a steady rhythmic track with sparse six-string flourishes. Opening with a clamorous instrumental din, “You’re Gonna Make Me” combines a Sky Saxon aesthetic with ringing, and often-times clashing instrumentation and distraught vox to create a bluesy vibe. A classic tale of romantic woe that is as timeless as rock ‘n’ roll itself, “Gypsy Girl” brings a wan folkish pacing to an emotional ‘tears on my guitar’ performance, two powerful minutes of anguished heartbreak.

Magic Panacea

Cut from similar romance-gone-wrong cloth, “I Want To Be Alone” delivers a complex, textured instrumental arrangement running like an angry river beneath Anderson’s tortured vocals while Hildebrandt’s shotgun cymbal work and cascading drumbeats drive the emotional heartbeat of the song. With a vibrating sonic wavelength and dense production fitting the moment, “Shanghai Girl” rocks from post to post with chiming fretwork and locomotive rhythms. The throwback rock of “She’s Bad” reminds of Duane Eddy with nearly-hidden vocals and a loud, twangy guitar sound that bounces from speaker to speaker. Picking up the pace just a notch, “Magic Panacea” brings a dose of psychedelia to the party, offering up a buffet of delicious git licks above an energetic drumbeat, including a gorgeous ‘50s-style solo that evokes James Burton’s influential work back in the day.

Downshifting to allow the listener to catch their breath, “Here Comes The Sun” captures a darker, atmospheric vibe at odds with the song’s seemingly upbeat lyrics. The dichotomy helps drive the song across new stylistic turf and makes for an exciting, mind-bending performance. The title track is pure, pedigreed psychedelic rock with a razor edge and lysergic lyrics, four-minutes and eleven sugar cubed seconds of joyful music-making with dueling guitars and thundering drumbeats guaranteed to take your head to a better place. Closer “Kicked Out-Kicked In” is unrelenting in its onslaught, a monster, guitar-driven garage-fire that couldn’t hit any harder if Anderson and Hilbers actually smashed their guitars over your head.   

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

With Scorpio Rising, Calidoscopio displays an evolution in sound and a willingness to explore previously-undiscovered corners of rock music that have remained hidden for decades. Yes, the band pursues an overall musical direction that, at first blush, may seem derivative and/or revisionist, but nothing could be further from the truth. Dig a little deeper into Scorpio Rising and you’ll find the method to the band’s madness, heretofore unrealized creative avenues where others fear to tread. No matter your age, if you dig bands like the Seeds, the 13th Floor Elevators, and the Electric Prunes, you’ll find a lot to love in the grooves of Calidoscopio’s Scorpio Rising! (Jargon Records, released July 19th, 2024)

Buy the album from Bandcamp: Calidoscopio’s Scorpio Rising
 
Previously on That Devil Music: Calidoscopio’s Get Ready album review

CD Review: Greg Prevost's After The Wars (2024)

After the break-up of garage-rock royalty the Chesterfield Kings in 2009 (accept no weak-kneed substitutes!), band frontman Greg ‘Stackhouse’ Prevost returned to his roots and launched a solo career with 2012’s critically-acclaimed effort Mississippi Murderer that has resulted in four bodacious collections of git-driven blues-rock that is equal parts Johnny Winter and early Rolling Stones with a double-shot of Lightnin’ Hopkins to clear your head.

Of Prevost’s previous album, 2021’s Songs For These Times, I wrote that “the singer, songwriter, and guitarist has crafted an impressive collection of material that not only defies previously-held expectations but also explores the possibilities of roots ‘n’ blues music.” Flash forward three years and Prevost’s much-anticipated fourth solo effort, After The Wars, which represents a quantum leap forward in the artist’s creative evolution that, even after 40+ years, proves that you can teach an old dog new tricks.

Greg ‘Stackhouse’ Prevost’s After The Wars

With After The Wars, Prevost expands his musical palette beyond scrappy blues-rock to incorporate folk, country, and even psychedelic-pop for a dozen songs that provide the listener with a mini-history of the last six decades of music while pushing beyond expectations with every single of them. Opening with the obscure Felix Pappalardi/Mountain song “Traveling In the Dark,” Prevost eschews a hard rock approach in favor of a feathery, shimmering psych-folk arrangement that emphasizes the song’s lyrics, delivered in a wan voice above a lofty acoustic guitar strum that belies the distraught lyrics.

Throwing listeners a curveball, Prevost delivers a spry reading of the traditional Gospel tune “Twelve Gates To the City,” best known for its rendition by singer Don Lewis. Accompanied by singer Danielle Colbert-Parrish, whose vocal talents elevate Prevost’s grittier vox to heavenly heights, it’s an inspired and fiery performance peppered by Prevost’s raging harmonica fills. The original “No Hallelujah For Glory” is a sort of gospel-blues tune with a lively six-string pull and Texas blues-styled vocals and mournful harmonica while a cover of cult-rocker Roky Erickson’s “I Have Always Been Here Before” offers a fresh perspective on one of the underrated songwriter’s best tunes, delivered with reverence and energy in a psyche-folk style.

Prevost’s relationship with obscure ‘70s rocker Armand Schaubroeck – owner of the world-famous House of Guitars store in Rochester NY – dates back decades to when Greg worked at the HOG, so his cover of Schaubroeck’s “Babe We’re Not Part of Society” isn’t totally unexpected, but is nevertheless a welcome surprise. Two flash minutes of raging vocals, fiery harmonica, and jagged guitar strum underlines Schaubroeck’s original vision with reckless abandon, and although I can’t find the song on any of Schaubroeck’s albums, if you dig it, maybe you’ll check out the recent CD reissue of Schaubroeck’s classic 1974 album A Lot of People Would Like To See Armand Schaubroeck…Dead.

Roadkill Rag

By contrast, Prevost’s cover of the Buddy Holly rarity “Learning the Game” is downright pastoral in its delivery, sort of a pop-psych construct with gorgeous strings and an arrangement that draws out the romantic nature of the lyrics. The original “Roadkill Rag” is a blustery, up-tempo blues-rocker with echoing guitar licks, growled lyrics, and a ramshackle performance befitting both juke-joint and honky-tonk. A cover of Johnny Paycheck’s “Apartment #9” is totally unexpected, yet cleverly fits into the album’s track list, the honky-tonk tearjerker gliding to Nashville on the wings of Al Keltz’s subtle pedal steel guitar. Prevost’s twangy vocals hint at another musical direction; maybe he’ll cover a David Allen Coe song next album?

Riding out on some elegant guitar and harmonica work, “Apartment #9” effortlessly segues into a cover of Phil Och’s late-career folk gem “No More Songs.” Accompanied by Karl LaPorta’s beautiful, low-key piano, Prevost imbues what is basically a funeral dirge for Och’s career with dignity and presence. “Dust My Blues” breaks the tension with an up-tempo reading fueled by soaring harmonica riffs and howling vocals. The album’s title track is a sort of extended song cycle that blends Prevost’s imaginative four ‘suites’ with David Bowie’s glam-infused psych-rocker “Memory of A Free Festival” in the creation of a mesmerizing head trip that has more in common with 1969 than 2024.

Stream-of-consciousness vocals, cacophonic instrumentation, and overall chaos is tempered by a unique musical vision that delivers an energetic and entertaining miasma of sound and texture which points towards a new psychedelia that is informed by, but not beholden to, the sounds of the ‘60s. The suite ends with seeming destruction before the triumphant message of “Memory of A Free Festival” breaks out. It’s a heady trip, and a helluva seven minutes! After The Wars closes out with the traditional folk tune “He Was A Friend of Mine.” Covered by folks like Bob Dylan, Dave van Ronk, and the Byrds, Prevost brings a bluesier take to the song, which dates back to at least the 1930s. I like Prevost’s reading, which tacks towards a joyful remembrance of the friend in question despite the mournful nature of the instrumentation.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

As much as I enjoy Prevost’s previous solo albums and, indeed, much of the Chesterfield Kings’ worthy album catalog, After The Wars is a much more nuanced and intricate collection of songs. The artist is accompanied by a larger cast of musical friends here, including longtime collaborator Paul Morabito on guitar, and co-producer Dave Anderson, of the very cool band Calidoscopio, who contributes various instruments. Greg’s wife Caroll makes the album a family affair by providing vocals on several songs, and the world-famous Felix the Cat even makes his voice heard (on “Zen Cats,” part of the title song suite).

After The Wars is Greg Prevost’s most considered, creative, and complex album to date, the artist paying tribute to his considerable past efforts and influences while still defying expectations with his sojourn towards the future. (Mean Disposition Records, 2024)

Buy the LP from Get Hip Records: Greg Prevost’s After The Wars

Also on That Devil Music: Greg Prevost’s Universal Vagrant CD review

Book Review: Jim Higgins’ Sweet, Wild and Vicious (2024)

On the Mount Olympus of rock ‘n’ roll, Lou Reed may be Apollo, the Greek god of music and poetry…or maybe he was the Oracle of Delphi, Pythia, whose prophecies are said to have come from divine possession. More likely, though, Reed was Hermes, the messenger god, who was also known as a bit of a trickster along the line of Loki of Norse mythology, for what else could Metal Machine Music be considered other than a terribly cheeky prank?

Perhaps Reed was an amalgam of all of these mythological figures. Over the course of a lengthy career that spanned six decades, Reed released nearly three-dozen studio and live albums – both solo and with his influential group the Velvet Underground – with more than a few clunkers in the mix, but enough solid efforts to build an impressive legacy. More importantly, he spread the message of rock ‘n’ roll, a particular gospel fueled by Reed’s unique and unparalleled creative vision.

Jim Higgins’ Sweet, Wild and Vicious

There is an entire shelf of books available that deconstruct Reed’s life and career, some obviously written by fans like Will Hermes and Anthony DeCurtis, which present the artist in an honest light, warts and all, while others (Howard Sounes, I’m looking at you…) seem to be purposely salacious, designed to denigrate Reed’s reputation without the good sense to realize that you can’t really tarnish a god’s image. Have these scribes ever read the story of Leda & the Swan? An entirely different bookshelf covers the lightning bolt-brief albeit influential existence of the Velvet Underground.

Yes, Lou was a prickly, contentious, misanthropic figure who particularly disliked the music media, and his feuds with critics like Lester Bangs are legendary in and of themselves. Reed could sometimes be hateful in words and actions, but looking at the artist from an arm’s length, it seems that most of the damage caused by Lou was targeted at himself. What few of the aforementioned books do, however, is really cover the man’s music in depth. For that, we have Jim Higgins’ Sweet, Wild and Vicious.

Higgins is a former pop music and jazz critic for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel newspaper – back in the day when arts coverage was valued by the mainstream press – and Sweet, Wild and Vicious is an invaluable listener’s guide to Reed’s largish catalog of music. Published by Ira Robbins’ Trouser Press Books, a commercial imprint with a fan’s perspective and plenty of rock ‘n’ roll history behind it, unlike most of these currently trendy “album-by-album” books, Sweet, Wild and Vicious doesn’t lapse into the “song-by-song” orthodoxy that tends to hamstring acute criticism in favor of word count (and, as author of one of these books – Sonicbond’s Spirit…On Track – I have some familiarity with the form). 

Lou Reed, Montauk Studio 2002, photo by Julian Schnabel, courtesy Light In The Attic Records

Lou Reed Album-by Album

Instead, Higgins treats each recording individually and organically in its entirety, providing context and history while calling out the best (and sometimes worst) of the songs. Sweet, Wild and Vicious begins, logically, with the four Velvet Underground albums circa 1967-1970 and, after a quick and insightful aside into the song “Sweet Jame,” dives into Reed’s solo career with his self-titled 1972 debut album, which I hold in higher esteem than does Higgins. Over the course of 246 pages, Higgins smartly and concisely tackles each album in the Reed milieu, including late-period VU live discs, up through Reed’s mischievous swansong, Lulu, his 2011 collaboration with heavy metal legends Metallica.

Higgins’ appreciation for even Reed’s minor works is obvious, but never fawning, and he seems to be able to pluck a gem or two out of even lackluster albums like Mistrial or Rock and Roll Heart. Higgins’ enthusiasm is contagious, his insight as thought-provoking as the artist’s work he’s writing about. The last few chapters of Sweet, Wild and Vicious go beyond Reed to discuss legendary critic Robert Christgau’s estimation of the artist’s body of work and “Children of the Velvet Underground,” i.e. musicians influenced by Reed’s work including some of the usual suspects – folks like David Bowie, Dream Syndicate, and Jonathan Richman – as well as some you may not have thought of like Yo La Tengo, Joy Division, and the Feelies.

The final two chapters feature “Orphans and Rarities,” significant performances that Reed contributed to various tribute albums or movie soundtracks, and “Remake, remodel,” tackling covers of Reed’s songs by other artists. As Higgins writes, “many people can claim to be better singers than Lou Reed, with a greater range or more technical skill. But that doesn’t mean they can improve on or even credibly deliver a Reed song.” His criticisms of the performances he describes are a perfect illustration of Reed’s unique ability to infuse a song with magic that is impossible for even more talented other artists to capture.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Higgins’ Sweet, Wild and Vicious is a quick read (no pun intended!), well-written and intelligent and providing even the casual Lou Reed fan with motivation to track down some of those albums you may have overlooked or forgotten about. I’d highly recommend it for anybody with any interest in the artist, the book a welcome addition to the rapidly-growing Trouser Press catalog, which also includes Mitch Cohen’s Looking For the Magic, a fascinating account of his tenure with Arista Records, several collections of Robbins’ wonderful writing on music, and the essential Zip It Up! The Best of Trouser Press Magazine 1974-1984, all of which deserve space on your bookshelf. (Trouser Press Books, published April 19th, 2024)

Buy the book from Trouser Press: Jim Higgins’ Sweet, Wild and Vicious

Archive Review: Junior Well’s Hoodoo Man Blues (1965/2011)

One of a handful of bona fide classic blues LPs, Junior Wells’ Hoodoo Man Blues ushered in a new era for the genre. Although blues music was struggling commercially in the mid-1960s as a young African-American audience chose to listen to soul, and later funk rather than their “parent’s music,” a new audience would develop as young, white rock ‘n’ roll fans latched onto the blues even more strongly than they did during the short-lived folk-blues boom of the late 1950s and early 1960s. Along with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band’s self-titled 1965 debut, Hoodoo Man Blues would help write the blueprint that most blues-rock bands of the late 1960s would follow.

In retrospect, it seems like a natural, inevitable progression, but in 1965, Delmark Records’ Bob Koester was taking a big risk with the recording and release of Hoodoo Man Blues. Blues albums had, until that point, mostly been a collection of songs from an artist’s 45rpm record releases surrounded by studio filler. Hoodoo Man Blues was, perhaps, the first true document of a working blues band just cutting loose in the studio as they did on the stage at Theresa’s or other Chicago blues clubs without considering the release of a single. The album truly captured the sound and fury of the Chicago blues at that time even while pointing the music towards a new direction.   

Junior Well’s Hoodoo Man Blues

Wells’ take on Amos Blakemore’s “Snatch It Back and Hold It” would bring a new sound to the traditional Chicago blues. Displaying as many James Brown-influenced funk underpinnings as Little Walter-styled blues aesthetic, the performance placed more reliance on Wells’ funky, forceful vocals and Buddy Guy’s slippery chicken-picking as it did Wells’ normal harpwork. Another Blakemore cover, the underrated “Ships On the Ocean,” takes the standard blues sound onto darker, stormy turf with an incredibly nuanced but forceful six-string performance by Guy and mournful blasts of Wells’ harp, with the singer’s growling, Howlin’ Wolf-styled vocals reaching deep into a bottomless well of emotion.

Wells pays tribute to two of his major influences on Hoodoo Man Blues, starting with a blistering cover of John Lee “Sonny Boy” Williamson’s classic “Good Morning Schoolgirl.” With a lusty vocal performance accompanied by Guy’s lively fretwork, Wells’ punctuates the lyrics with shards of harp laid atop the jaunty rhythm provided by bassist Jack Myers and drummer Billy Warren. The title track is taken from harp wizard Sonny Boy Williamson, and Wells’ version features an upbeat, rollicking arrangement with plenty of harp gymnastics and great guitar tone from Guy, who manages to coax a sound akin to a riffing organ from his fretboard.

In The Wee Wee Hours

Wells dips into the Amos Blakemore catalog once again for “In the Wee Wee Hours,” one of four gems from the songwriter to be found on Hoodoo Man Blues. Wells firmly places “In the Wee Wee Hours” in the pantheon of classic blues torch-songs with a dynamic performance that colors the entire song in a dark shade of blue. Wells’ emotional harpwork lays the foundation upon which Guy embroiders his beautiful, melancholy guitar lines. Wells’ vocals are sparse, more of a fill in-between the soul-crushing instrumentation, and they work well in context, providing maximum impact. By contrast, Blakemore’s “We’re Ready” is delivered as a mid-tempo instrumental shuffle with a swaggering backbeat, Wells’ fluid harp playing, and Guy’s stinging, sharp-edged guitar. Warren’s drumming really stands out here, propelling the song with flurries of cymbal and skins.

Guitarist Kenny Burrell’s “Chitlins Con Carne” has become a blues and jazz standard, but in 1965 it was a mere instrumental curiosity, the song’s charms amplified here by Wells’ serpentine harp and Guy’s energetic six-string, passages marked by Wells’ pronounced grunts. Hoodoo Man Blues ends as it begins, with Wells’ taking the traditional “Yonder Wall” into the stratosphere with a rocking take that brings the noise and brings the funk with scrappy harp and rhythmic guitarplay rolling high in the mix above a fat rhythmic groove. This 2011 reissue includes several bonus tracks in the form of alternate takes and illuminating studio chatter, but the most significant find here is a performance of Buddy Guy’s “I Ain’t Stranded” that features Wells’ soulful vocals sputtering and sliding across Guy’s Chuck Berry-styled, duckwalking rock ‘n’ blues guitar pickin’.         

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Quite simply, if you’re a blues fan, then you should have a copy of Junior Wells’ Hoodoo Man Blues in your collection. Featuring brilliant performances all around, matched with a classic tracklist and stellar instrumentation, the album would become – and remains – Delmark’s all-time best-seller and is a Grammy® Hall of Fame inductee.

While the bonus tracks included on this 2011 reissue add a little additional spice to the already heady musical gumbo, the addition of new liner note and rare B&W photos from the original 1965 recording session provide plenty of reasons to upgrade your old copy. For the newbie, however, Hoodoo Man Blues is where the legacies of Junior Wells and Buddy Guy were first writ large. Get it! (Delmark Records, released August 23, 2011)

Buy the CD from Amazon: Junior Wells’ Hoodoo Man Blues

Archive Review: Mountain's Over the Top (1995)

The first time that I ever heard Mountain – the Mountain Climbing! album, I believe – was at an older friend’s house. I was twelve or thirteen, he was eighteen, and a bunch of us would gather in his basement to pass the pipe and bottle around and sample tunes from his large record collection. Many of the bands and artists that would come to influence my plunge into rock criticism were first experienced in that basement – Mountain, Spirit, Steppenwolf, Black Sabbath, Jimi Hendrix...

From the 1970 release of Mountain Climbing!, the band’s second album, throughout their slow disintegrated and up to the break-up half a decade later, Mountain was one of the biggest bands in the land – and, perhaps, the most obscure. They played Woodstock, but were cut out of the movie; they sold millions of copies of their first few albums, but are remembered today for a single song: “Mississippi Queen.” A generation of kids that today still listen to Hendrix and Ozzie are unfamiliar with the rich body of work created by the genius of Leslie West and Felix Pappalardi, the odd couple behind Mountain’s success.

In the late 1960s, Felix Pappalardi was known as the producer of Cream, the biggest band in the world in their time. A classically-trained musician, Pappalardi was a deft producer, a multi-instrumental talent, and a skilled composer and arranger. West was a fat kid from Long Island, as raw as Pappalardi was polished. No lesser lights than Peter Townsend, Jeff Beck, and Mick Jagger considered West to be the best guitarist alive at the time. This unlikely pair came together to become the yin and yang of Mountain, feeding off each other’s energy and ideas. The music they created was an incredible blend of guitar-driven hard rock and jazzy improvisation layered upon a blues base. It was as complex as it was exciting, and it won the band a significant following throughout the early part of the 1970s.

The recently released Over The Top covers Mountain’s entire history, from their self-titled debut (ostensibly a Leslie West solo LP) through hit albums like Mountain Climbing! and Nantucket Sleighride to the band’s swansong, 1974’s Avalanche. The familiar songs are all here, cuts like “Mississippi Queen,” “Theme From An Imaginary Western,” “Flowers of Evil,” and “Silver Paper,” as well as lesser-known material and a smattering of live tracks. The band’s ill-fated 1985 reunion album is represented here by a pair of cuts, albeit without the presence of Felix Pappalardi, who had died tragically a few years earlier.

Two new cuts close out the 34 song, two-CD set. Recorded last year by West, long-time Mountain drummer Corky Laing, and Hendrix bassist Noel Redding, the two songs – “Talking To the Angels” and “Solution” – show but a mere fraction of the greatness that was Mountain some twenty years ago. Both feature West’s ever-maturing skills, the slimmed-down ‘90s version of the guitarist still one of the greatest players the world has seen. The new songs are nothing but soulless, pedestrian hard rock, however, missing the spark and the life that the duo of West and Pappalardi brought to their earlier creations. Over the Top is an excellent collection, nonetheless – buy it for the 30 real Mountain cuts and forget those from ‘85 and 1994. (Legacy Recordings, released 1995)

Review originally published by R Squared zine

Archive Review: Little Walter's The Complete Chess Masters (2009)

Little Walter Jacobs was, without argument, the greatest blues harmonica player ever, an instrumental virtuoso that revolutionized the use of the instrument and influenced virtually every harpist that would attempt to follow in his footprints. Sodbusters like Paul Butterfield, Charlie Musselwhite, Rod Piazza, and Jason Ricci were all influenced by Walter’s enormous shadow.

For a while, blues harp master Little Walter was Chess Records’ biggest and best-selling star…bigger than Muddy Waters or Howlin’ Wolf. From 1952 through 1958, Walter ran off a string of fourteen Top Ten R&B chart hits, and even his recordings from the late-50s and early-60s display a dazzling presence, a willingness to take chances, and an uncanny skill as both an instrumentalist and vocalist.

The Complete Chess Masters (1950-1967) collects better than ten-dozen tracks recorded by Walter, including nine previously unreleased performances. Across the five CDs included with the set, Little Walter is accompanied by a veritable “who’s who” of Chicago blues royalty, including Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, Otis Spann, and Jimmy Rogers.  

The first disc includes some of Walter’s early big hits, including the career-making “Juke,” from 1952. A fluid, swinging instrumental with an easily-recognizable central riff and some tasty six-string fills courtesy of Jimmy Rogers, the song would spend an incredible 20 weeks on the R&B charts. Backed with the soulful “Can’t Hold Out Much Longer,” the single created a blueprint that Chess would follow for much of Walter’s career, featuring an instrumental ‘A’ side backed by a ‘B’ side that would feature Walter’s underrated vocals.

When “Juke” hit the top of the charts, Little Walter ditched Waters mid-tour and, scooping up Junior Wells’ band the Aces, launched his solo career in earnest. Recording with the new band, sessions from late-1952 and early-1953 resulted in another big hit in “Sad Hours.” Paired with T-Bone Walker’s “Mean Old World,” the steady shuffling “Sad Hours” offers the first use of Walter’s unique “warble” method that created a multi-dimensional sound for the instrument.

The second disc kicks off with one of Little Walter’s signature songs (and a blues standard), “Blues With A Feeling.” With Chess Records finally letting him put his soulful vocals up front alongside his instrumental prowess, the song was the perfect framing of mood and performance, drenched in emotion and bristling with energy.

Little Walter’s recording of Bo Diddley’s houserockin’ instrumental “Roller Coaster,” with Diddley himself providing some rattling fretwork alongside Walter’s frantic harp, represented something of a changing of the guards. By 1955, the commercial market was beginning to thin out for blues music as rock ‘n’ roll and rhythm & blues took over the charts. “Roller Coaster” would be the last of Walter’s instrumental hits.

Between 1956 and ‘58, Little Walter recorded a number of tracks that, while standing up with some of his best work, none of it proved to be a commercial success. Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry were Chess Records’ latest stars, and otherwise red-hot songs like the spry instrumental “Flying Saucer” or the hard-driving, Berry-styled rocker “It Ain’t Right” were ignored by record buyers.

In January 1959, Little Walter would record with guitarist Luther Tucker and pianist Otis Spann, producing a number of strong sides, although only one – the smoldering “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” – would inch midway up the R&B chart. Benefiting from Spann’s rollicking piano-bashing, the song features one of Walter’s most emotional harp performances, the lonesome desperation of his solos matched by his mournful vocals.

Other songs recorded in 1959 showed that, while Walter’s skills with the harmonica remained unsurpassed, his once-expressive voice was slowly being eroded by alcohol. In some instances, his diminished vocal capabilities worked to his advantage, as in the tear-jerking “Blue And Lonesome.” Backed by Freddie Robinson’s hypnotic fretwork, Walter’s low-register vocals define sadness and depression, his blistering harp a reflection of his inner turmoil.

Little Walter’s commercial fortunes continued to decline from 1960 until his death in 1968, and the sessions he was offered became few and far between. Still, there are some treasures to be plucked from Walter’s increasingly obscure recordings. Willie Dixon’s “As Long As I Have You” is a precursor to the British blues-rock that would rise up during the ‘60s, the song full of switchblade guitar and rough-hewn vocals. From one of Walter’s last sessions, in 1967, a final shot of “Juke” recorded with Buddy Guy and Otis Spann would cement Little Walter’s legacy as the greatest.

Yeah, you’ve probably figured out that five discs, featuring better than two-dozen tracks apiece, is a heck of a lot of material to wade through, and you’d be right. Although The Complete Chess Masters (1950-1967) might only appeal to the most rabid of fans, it is also an important historical document. The set provides a portrait of a musical genius in the prime…and decline…of his talent, and it’s a worthwhile addition to the library of any serious blues collector. (Hip-O Select, released March 6th, 2009)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine