DVD Review: The Groundhogs’ Live At The Astoria (2008)

The Groundhogs, who hail from mid-’60s England, hardly even rate as a cult band on U.S. shores. A pair of critically-acclaimed releases during the dawn of the ‘70s – Thank Christ For the Bomb (1970) and Who Will Save the World? (1972) – were hits in the U.K. but flew beneath the radar on this side of the pond. The band’s track record speaks for itself, however: working with blues legend John Lee Hooker, kibitzing with John Mayall, better than four decades of recording and performing…but outside of a few red, white, and blues diehards, the Groundhogs have always been invisible in America, and are thus ripe for rediscovery by music lovers seeking a new flavor.

Groundhogs vocalist and guitarist Tony (T.S.) McPhee has been fronting the band seemingly since kindergarten. An old-school Brit blooze-rocker…one of the oldest, in fact…through the years he’s lead revolving line-ups through a variation of blues, hard rock, and psychedelic styles, sometimes with progressive overtones, but usually playing it straight down the (party) line. The Groundhogs’ Live At The Astoria DVD represents the band’s first full-length concert taping, the cameras capturing a 1998 show in support of their Howlin’ Wolf tribute CD, Hogs In Wolves’ Clothing. The double-disc set includes a CD of the concert as well, so you can take the ‘Hogs with you in the car, or slap it in your stereo for an instant good time.

McPhee leads a classic power trio into battle, the exciting guitarist backed by bassist Eric Chipulina and drummer Pete Correa. Putting on a display of good ole-fashioned six-string strangulation in front of an enthusiastic audience, McPhee pulls every stunt at his command out of his decades-old bag o’ tricks. Although sometimes lapsing into the clichés of the blues-rock form, McPhee’s talent and on-stage charm manage to transform even the most pedestrian of songs into a boozy party. Brick-by-brick, Live At The Astoria delivers plenty of down-n-dirty cheap thrills that you’ll happily take a shower after hearing to wash off the grime, the cue it up on the box again.

“Eccentric Man” hits the listener between the ears like Cream on steroids, a heartbeat bassline and powderkeg drums ignited by McPhee’s six-string pyrotechnics. Longtime fan favorite “Split, Part 1,” from the band’s 1971 album of the same, is a vintage rocker with randomly-injected riffs, shifting time signatures, and surprisingly fluid fretwork balanced by screaming eagle solos. A blobby, lava-lamplike tapestry is projected on the wall behind the band, so that when McPhee launches into a whammy-bar-crazed solo, he sounds like a cross between Hendrix and Buckethead, with a Hawkwind chaser.

McPhee tries out his finest falsetto on an abbreviated reading of “Cherry Red,” swarming guitar notes blistering like the stings of an entire beehive, while “Still A Fool” is a greasy, slow-burning blues tune with plenty of built-up frustration and denial, and a bottom-heavy solo with notes as thick as a rhino’s hide. The band encores with its signature “Groundhog Blues,” a throbbing slice o’ Delta-inspired booger-rock that would do John Lee proud. With a heavy walking riff and salt-cured vocals, McPhee happily casts his lot with the long-gone ghosts at the Mississippi crossroads.

A merry band of musical luddites, the Groundhogs crank out the type of dino-stomp that went out-of-fashion with the loom, and doesn’t exist these days outside of the British Museum, on display beside the Rosetta Stone. McPhee and the lads seem to be more the pub type, though, and Live At The Astoria is a fine representation of the band’s timeless – and out-of-time – sound. (Eagle Rock Entertainment, released September 23rd, 2008)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine…

 

Book Review: Stanley Booth's Rythm Oil (2000)

Writer Stanley Booth is best-known for his 1984 book, Dance With the Devil, a chronicle of his time touring with the Rolling Stones. A frustrated novelist with an eye for detail, a naturally florid use of language, and a classic literary slant to his work, Booth’s best work has been in the field of music, especially the incredible essays that he wrote for publications like Esquire, Playboy, Rolling Stone, and the Village Voice, among others during the 1960s and ‘70s.

Booth’s Rythm Oil, subtitled “A journey through the music of the American South,” collects twenty of the writer’s best music-related pieces, the ambitious scope of the work covering everything from country blues and early rock ‘n’ roll to Memphis soul and 1970s-era blues-rock. Named for “rythm oil” [sic], an alchemical modern voodoo potion sold in the Beale Street shops of Memphis, the book itself is some sort of magical tome that really does provide a literary journey through the music of the time.

While Booth’s “Standing At the Crossroads,” an imaginative fictional flight of fancy that recounts Robert Johnson’s legendary meeting with the Devil, falls flat in its ambition, it’s the only hiccup that the reader will find in Rythm Oil. “Furry’s Blues” does a fine job of illustrating the poverty and racism experienced by country blues great Furry Lewis, while “Been Here and Gone,” Booth’s account of the funeral of Mississippi John Hurt, is poignant in its description of the event. “Blues Boy” offers a look into the life and career of the great B.B. King, while other chapters cover such artists as Al Green, Janis Joplin, Gram Parsons, James Brown, ZZ Top, and Elvis Presley.

Written with an autobiographical bent – Booth is an important participant in these stories – the format allows him to provide personal insight and emotion into the essays. Tying the music pieces together are strong articles that touch upon the city of Memphis, racism, and the South itself. Booth writes beautifully, with a real sympathy for his subjects, and no little knowledge of both the music and the history. If you want an entertaining education on both the South and its music, a snapshot of a certain time and place in pop culture history, Rythm Oil is the book for you. Highly recommended. (Da Capo Press, published October 1, 2000)

Bootleg Review: Frank Zappa’s Kreega Bondola (1997)

Although he sits comfortably outside of the “Top Five” of bootlegged artists, Frank Zappa has always been a favorite target of bootleggers, nonetheless. This fact particularly galled Zappa, who took great pride in bringing the same sort of intensity and passion to his live performances as he did to his studio recordings. In an attempt to try and “beat the boots” at their own game, Zappa even gathered up a number of fine, but unauthorized recordings of his work and released them himself through his association with Rhino Records. As a result, aside from the plethora of illegitimate recordings that continue to surface, there are a number of highly-recommended “authorized bootlegs” covering a significant portion of Zappa’s lengthy career, that are currently available through mainstream retailers.

Kreega Bondola, however, is not one of those releases, serving instead as a fine example of European bootleggery. A double CD set taken from a 1984 show at the Saratoga Performing Arts Centre, the release captures Zappa performing with one of the best of many bands he’d used throughout his career. The mid-‘80s were arguably the most prolific of Zappa’s 30+ years, as he developed and/or refined a number of themes that would continue to serve him well throughout the decade, including censorship, sexual politics and religious hypocrisy (aimed at the rising tide of televangelism). Releases of the era like Them or Us or Broadway the Hard Way, as well as his subsequent battle against the PMRC and Congressional testimony found the iconoclastic Zappa in the awkward position of being considered an “elder statesman” of rock. His relationship with the media at the time was an especially fragile one.

Little of the controversy that he was to become embroiled in is evident on Kreega Bondola. The performance is typical Zappa – incredibly tight, orchestrated, and well-choreographed. A lot of Zappa’s between song commentary has been “airbrushed” out in the studio, as has a lot of audience reaction to the material. You can hear the audience at times, but they’re kept very low in the mix (which isn’t necessarily bad, just extreme). As such, the band seems as if they’re performing in a vacuum. For the most part, the performances are short and succinct, seldom allowing Zappa and the band to cut loose and play. Zappa’s maestro-like mastery of the guitar kept on a short leash, FZ throwing a few bones to the audience in the way of solos, and only the title cut and “Illinois Enema Bandit” really showcase what the band was capable of musically with extended musical passages.

Overall, Kreega Bondola offers a good performance by a great artist and band. A soundboard recording, the sound quality here is top notch, with the mix leaning heavily towards the instrumentation and vocals. Although there’s little here to attract the casual rock fan, Kreega Bondola is a significant addition to any Zappa fan’s musical library. (Triangle Records, Italy, released 1997)

Review originally published by R Squared zine, "Grey Edition"

Archive Review: Gary Moore & Scars' Scars (2002)

Guitarist Gary Moore earned his bones as a blues assassin, mentored by Fleetwood Mac founder Peter Green and fronting the late ‘60s British “blooze-rock” posse Skid Row. After a handful of albums and mid-chart singles, Moore left the band to tool around Europe as part of the jazz-fusion outfit Colosseum before becoming a heavy metal hero as the primary axeman for Phil Lynott’s Thin Lizzy. A series of metal-tinged, hard rockin’ solo albums like 1984’s Victims of the Future and 1987’s Wild Frontier made Moore one of the best-loved cult guitarists in rock, but for the last decade or so, the chameleon-like artist has returned to the blues with a handful of critically-acclaimed releases.

With his new band Scars, featuring former Skunk Anansie bassist Cass Lewis and Primal Scream drummer Darrin Mooney, Moore enjoys the best of both worlds, blending hard rock energy and his mastery of the blues, updating the Skid Row sound for a new millennium. Scars, the trio’s self-titled debut, burns with a white light/white heat that will blister your eardrums and tickle your id, Moore’s tortured six-string wailing like a metal machine monster. Copping his best Jimi Hendrix/Robin Trower attitude, Moore kicks off Scars with “When the Sun Goes Down,” an electrifying riff-fest that had this humble scribe believing that it was 1973 again.

“Wasn’t Born In Chicago” rolls right off the tracks, Moore howling like he’s got Robert Johnson’s hellhounds on his trail, the band hitting a funky groove and driving it like an out-of-control big rig down the listener’s throat. Another six-string lovefest, “World of Confusion,” conjures up the ghost of Hendrix (think “Manic Depression” and you’re in the right ballpark) while “Ball and Chain” is a powerful blues rave-up that will have you swaying your head and stomping your feet in spite of yourself. A strong effort that showcases Moore’s ability to both blast out power riffs and deliver subtle blues virtuosity, Scars is a reminder that sometimes an old blueshound doesn’t need to learn any new tricks to get by... (Sanctuary Records, released September 10th, 2002)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ music zine...

Archive Review: Ray Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel (2007)

Born in Canada, but raised in America, singer/songwriter and self-professed “blues poet” Ray Bonneville considers himself to be a “North American.” The itinerant musician has traveled constantly throughout the three decades of his career, from Boston to Seattle, from Arkansas to Alaska. Yet, Bonneville will be the first to tell you that no location has been more influential to his music than the city of New Orleans. Listening to Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel, it’s easy to hear his musical and spiritual connection to the Crescent City.

The Sound of New Orleans

Although New Orleans has a grand tradition in jazz music, the city also has a rich heritage in the blues. After all, the mighty Mississippi River runs south from the Delta, through the city, and into the Gulf of Mexico. Many Delta bluesmen made their way down the river through the years and landed in New Orleans, bringing their country blues style and sound to “The Big Easy,” mixing it up with the city’s native jazz, Cajun, and ragtime styles.

More than anything else, however, the sound of New Orleans is that of rhythm. Most of the city’s music incorporates a distinctive rhythmic pattern of one sort or another, whether it’s the rhythms of a brassy jazz band or Professor Longhair’s raucous piano pounding. Most importantly, however, is the rhythm of slowness…it’s hot in New Orleans in the summertime, and humid, too, and nobody is in a big hurry to get anywhere or do anything. There’s a slower pace to the sounds of New Orleans, one that you grow, as a listener, to appreciate over time.

Ray Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel

If Ray Bonneville has taken anything in the way of influence from New Orleans, it’s the city’s languid feel. With Goin’ By Feel, Bonneville’s sixth album, the singer and producer Gurf Morlix have managed to capture the sound of kudzu growing and cypress creaking. The songs here are saltwater-drenched, with an undeniable bluesy vibe that is reinforced by Bonneville’s soulful, gruff vocals and rich six-string pickin’. This is music as atmospheric as the fog on a Louisiana swamp at daybreak, and performed with a casual, laid-back style that is in no hurry towards its destination.

Bonneville is a natural-born storyteller, and beneath the gorgeous music on Goin’ By Feel is a raft of brilliant story-songs. An erudite songwriter with one foot in the South’s literary tradition and the other firmly planted in the narrative style of the blues, Bonneville conjures up characters and situations out of whole cloth with his vivid imagery and finely-crafted use of the language. His lyrics, when combined with the wide, loping groove of the music, create an almost fictional sense of space.

Not that Bonneville is afraid to ramp it up a bit when necessary. “What Katy Did” builds on spry rhythms with quick, dark-hued vocals and sparse, elegant fretwork. A love letter, of sorts, to New Orleans, “I Am the Big Easy” offers clever lyrics that tie together the city’s cultural wealth with the tragedy of Hurrican Katrina. By contrast, the stark “Carry the Fallen,” is a brilliant anti-war song that lyrically brings home the cost of the war in human terms.   

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

 
A gifted songwriter and skilled guitarist, Ray Bonneville brings the expansive worldview created by his travels to every word he writes and each note he plays. Incorporating elements of folk, country, soul, and blues into his distinctive sound, Bonneville weaves pure magic here with his intricate story-songs. Goin’ By Feel is a thoughtful, intelligent work of immense beauty, sincerity, and honesty. This isn’t your usual blues music, but then Ray Bonneville isn’t your average blues musician, either. (Red House Records, released April 16th, 2007)

Buy the CD from Amazon: Ray Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel

Archive Review: Modern English’s Life In The Gladhouse 1980-1984 (2001)

It’s hard for a pop band to be all things to all people, and most satisfy their creative egos by merely finding a singular groove and flogging it to death. Modern English were one of the few outfits who managed to blend together many disparate influences – punk roots, new wave sensibilities, Goth ambiance, and industrial attitude – into creating an entirely unique and highly experimental body of music. Best known for their infectious 1982 hit “I Melt With You,” which has become a staple on classic rock radio, Modern English had an identity beyond MTV and movie soundtracks.

Life In The Gladhouse 1980-1984 presents Modern English in the band’s halcyon days, warts, pretensions, and all, and the collection of album tracks and ‘A’-side singles shows a band at least a decade ahead of their time. Masterfully blending the aforementioned musical styles and influences, Modern English created songs that were atmospheric, emotional, and intelligent. The band has much more in common with obvious creative predecessors like Roxy Music than with the legion of new wave bands that glutted MTV in the early ‘80s. Modern English sculpted sound and abstract lyrics in the creation of musical art that sounds as fresh and exciting today as it did twenty years ago. If you’re looking for a new musical thrill, want to hear something that is both familiar and yet intellectually challenging, look no further than Life In The Gladhouse 1980-1984. If you know nothing more of Modern English than “I Melt With You,” prepare to have your conceptions gladly shattered. (Beggar’s Banquet/4AD, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: American Hi-Fi’s American Hi-Fi (2001)

Major record labels, being the craven, trend-mongering corporate creatures that they are, tend to sign artists that sound and look a lot like whatever’s at the top of the charts at the moment. Sexy teen cutie Britney Spears hits numero uno with a sultry pop song – sign Mandy Moore and Jessica Simpson! Teenage boys are lining up to throw down their shekels for passive hard rock from Creed – put out CDs by Papa Roach and Three Walls Down. The predictable nature of this industry inclination makes the discovery of something even slightly out-of-the-ordinary, like American Hi-Fi, all that much more satisfying.

With their self-titled debut, American Hi-Fi come on gangbusters like a modern-era Cheap Trick, all meaty hooks and monster rhythms underlining what is, at its core, good old-fashioned pop/rock. With their roots in the 1960s and their souls in the hard rocking ‘90s, American Hi-Fi crank out the jams with energy and elan, the band backing vocalist Stacy Jones’ wonderfully intelligent lyrics with radio-ready riffage and ready-for-prime time personality. Just “Flavour of the Weak” itself is a textbook example of pop/rock tuneage, the song’s teen protagonist waxing eloquent about the object of his affections who has fallen for another guy. Of course, she can’t see that she’s just a short time fling for the other guy and this poor heartbroken slob would offer his undying devotion just to be with her for a little while. It’s classic rock song territory here, folks, delivered here in an entirely refreshing and highly rocking manner.

There are other great cuts on American Hi-Fi, such as “I’m A Fool,” another unrequited love song with a recurring, underlying razor-sharp guitar line, or maybe the crashingly loud, anger-filled “My Only Enemy” will be more to your liking. You’ll hear a bunch o’ musical influences in these 13 songs, from the aforementioned Cheap Trick and obvious Beatlesque touches to elements of punk and grunge. A few songs are even possessed by the spirit of Kurt Cobain, all angst-like and feedback ridden. It’s an invigorating mix of styles, all filtered through a pair of screaming guitars and a solid rhythm section with appropriately snotty vocals. If you want an album that rocks as hard as any of the lesser poseurs on the charts these days but tips its hat to 40-plus years of rock history, take a chance on American Hi-Fi. The Rev sez “check it out!” (Island/Def Jam Records, released February 27th, 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Rare Earth’s The Best Of Rare Earth, The Millennium Collection (2001)

They might have well been the funkiest bunch o’ white boys to come out of the Motor City, kicking out the jams with a hybrid of Motown soul and hard rock ‘n’ roll. Much like Rodney Dangerfield, however, Rare Earth never gets any respect. Critics trashed them, the record buying public forgot them shortly after the last notes of their handful of hits had rung and, well, quite frankly, history hasn’t looked down favorably on the band. The Best of Rare Earth, a 7-track compilation released from the Motown vaults as part of the “20th Century Masters Millennium Collection” proves that these guys were ahead of their time by almost two decades.

Although they weren’t the first funkmeisters to mix create rock ‘n’ roll with R & B roots in the ‘60s – hometown heroes the MC5 did it a couple of years earlier – Rare Earth had greater success with the sound. Cuts like “Get Ready,” “Hey Big Brother” and “I Just Want To Celebrate” proved to be large hits for a relatively undistinguished bunch of players, and the songs hold up well even after thirty years. Rare Earth foreshadowed the jam bands of the ‘90s with extended instrumental passages filled to the brim with funky rhythms, rock riffs and jazzy interludes that stretched three-minute pop songs into 15- or 20-minute compositions. Sometimes tedious, sometimes exhilarating, it was nonetheless unique.

At their best, Rare Earth exemplified the sort of musical experimentation that made the late 1960s/early 1970s an exciting time for music. Anything might happen, with adventuresome bands throwing elements of country, blues, jazz, and R & B music on top of their basic roots rock sound. When they were good – as on the handful of hit singles featured on The Best of Rare Earth – the band was very good. Honestly, however, those moments were few and far between. Rare Earth’s more typical fare consisted of hackneyed R & B covers (like their slaughtering of Ray Charles’ classic “What’d I Say”), which is what earned them their reputation with critics and historians. For those listeners wanting a taste of one of rock music’s more obscure bands, I’d heartily recommend The Best of Rare Earth as a low-cost sampler that features the four big hits, which is all anyone really wants anyway... (Motown Records, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Bill Neely’s Texas Law & Justice (2001)

One of the true overlooked treasures of American roots music, songwriter Bill Neely toiled away in obscurity for decades, performing a distinctive style of “hillbilly blues” that incorporates country, blues, and folk traditions in creating an entirely unique sound. The son of a Texas sharecropper, Neely came to music through the influence of his mother, a Nashville native who played guitar, piano and accordion. It was a meeting with the legendary Jimmie Rodgers, however, that sealed Neely’s fate. The famous “Blue Yodeler” taught the youngster how to make a C chord on the guitar, a story retold by Neely’s with his classic song “On A Blackland Farm.”

Bill Neely’s Texas Law & Justice

Quitting school at the tender age of fourteen, Neely wandered the country, riding the rails and making money where he could. He worked the mines and the fields, spent time in the Army during WWII and the Korean War, later working as a cook and as a carpenter. Twenty years later, Neely settled down in Texas with a family and a trade, writing songs based on his experience and travels. During the 1960s, he became part of Austin’s early music scene, playing in local clubs both solo and with folks like Janis Joplin, Tracy Nelson, and the great Mance Lipscomb. When Neely died in 1990 of leukemia at the age of 74, he had been playing guitar for 60 years and writing his own songs for over 40 years. Yet Neely only recorded one album, On A Blackland Farm, reissued here on CD with several “bonus” tracks as Texas Law & Justice.

All of this background on Neely is necessary to understand the man who crafted the honest and authentic music preserved on disc by Texas Law & Justice. While great country blues artists like Mississippi Fred McDowell and Lightnin’ Hopkins enjoyed significant careers late in life, Neely remained largely unknown during the same time period. Yet I can hear echoes of Neely’s distinctive guitar style and lyrical abilities in such Texas troubadours as Townes Van Zandt and Guy Clark, acclaimed masters of the form. Songs like “A Soldier’s Thoughts” and “Crying the Blues Over You” are masterpieces of hillbilly blues, while the vivid imagery of “Skid Row” underlines an intelligent tale of rural innocence lost in the big city.

“Satan’s Burning Hell” is a gospel-tinged gem and “Blues On Ellem” is a Texas-style blues tune. “Never Left the Lone Star State” is a wonderful road trip through Neely’s memories while the two instrumentals included on Texas Law & Justice are inspired raves that showcase Neely’s not inconsiderable six-string skills. The one song here not written by Neely, but rather penned by a relative in 1930 – the haunting title cut “Texas Law And Justice” – is performed with great passion and energy and is all the more chilling considering the state’s dismal record of state-sanctioned executions.
    

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Too raw and realistic by today’s country music standards, Bill Neely nevertheless wrote songs of enduring life and spirit, infusing them with humor and tempered by years of hard-won experience. Artistically, I’d rank Neely as the equivalent of great bluesmen like Mississippi John Hurt and Big Bill Broonzy. That Neely’s talents remain a secret is an artistic crime, one that might be remedied by the CD release of Texas Law & Justice. With a sound that would appeal to fans of both country blues and alt-country music, Bill Neely is ripe for rediscovery. (Arhoolie Records, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine