THEN PLAY ON FLEETWOOD MAC REPRISE 6368

The third time it’s written a record review becomes a drag. One ceases to try to recall all the excuses he’d wanted to make and is forced to a far harsher conclusion. Fleetwood Mac’s new album, the problem at hand as it were, is a dismal and quite definite failure. Even as a change of direction it lacks any sort of historic rationale; that is, it has no relationship at all to their previous American albums (save for one cut, Albatross, on their second record English Rose.).

The blame seems to fall on. the head of Danny Kirwan. His 'songs are the source, at least, of the problem. Especially the definitely unenchanting neo-Montovani elevator music like My Dream; the fault is more in the fact that Kirwan’s style now pervades the group’s direction, rather than a fault with any of his individual songs. The sum contents of the album are four Kirwan tunes and five Peter Green cuts, along with a pair ( Searching/Fighting For Madge) by bassist John Me Vie and drummer Mick Fleetwood, which epitomize everything that should be, and used to be, at fault in this or any other British blues quintet.

The most remarkable phenomenon is the near-total absence of that impresario of Elmore Jamesmanship, Jeremy Spencer. Jeremy’s presence is felt only once, on Showbiz Blues and then only tenaciously. No matter what one thought of Fleetwood’s previous work (it has been described as “Every other song a tribute to Elmore James”.) Spencer was deeply involved in it and in an incredibly energetic manner. The little British wizard of guitar/keyboards was as exciting as any British performer I’ve ever seen, with the obvious exception of Mick Jagger. And anyway, I always dug old Elmore a hell of a lot more than Matt Monro, who seems to have captured the fanciful young heart of Mr. Kirwan.

One of the songs Peter Green wrote (Under fVayjsounds like it was recorded and mixed by the same engin'eer who committed the first Country Joe And The Fish album. Green also managed to come up with the somewhat less than thrilling Kirwan parody Closing My Eyes. Still no Spencer, either.

Even though all of the ' above accusations about their previous work ring true, Fleetwood Mac in their undefiled state were both a pleasure and a joy.; They seem to have had some familiarity with that notorious catchphrase “Kick Out The Jams”, an act they used to perform with hopeful frequency. On Then Play On, they manage it exactly one and a half times. Once, during Showbiz Blues, one is lead to believe that everything’s O.K., they’re back to it now. Nice side work there, sounds a bit like they’ve finally decided to give Jeremy Spencer a chance to strut his stuff. It works; it’s the only really viable moment in the whole lp for me.

On the second side we’re treated to the * spectacle of Rattlesnake Shake Fleetwood’s American single, Rattlesnake sounds like a muddy production from the first record. A glimpse into the what-might-have -been, at any rate. Back to the Muzak.

Thus we are faced with spectre of yet another English group who’ve taken themselves, and their music, far too seriously for comfort. Again, too, the fun is gone. Ah it’s only mindless doo-dah ramblings from the mind of some lonesome British near-cowboy ah my heart is brojcen, Kirwan is only 18 and it’s a shame he broke up with her and all but he’ll adjust in time one hopes and carry on with that much more hatred; which really makes for the best music. Like Elmore, he’ll understand the futility and be able to laugh about it now and then. Now he’s crawling and crying for love and sympathy and he hasn’t learned to hate really well because of it.

Write me at Creem; we’ll form a Bring Back The Fleetwood Mac Whose Every Other Song Was A Tribute To Elmore James (and don’t forget about Jeremy having his new obscure position in Fleetwood Mac removed.) At the veryleast we’ll be able to have fun again.

BLUE AFTERNOON - : TIM BUCKLEY; Straight STS 1060

It certainly was a blue afternoon when I got Tim Buckley’s latest album, Blue Afternoon, and 1 thought, ”Oh goodie," at the possibility of purging my problems through Tim’s lamenting. Buckley never has been known for singing jubilant, bouncy tunes. But Blue Afternoon is ridiculous. It’s not even good.sulking music. In this, his fourth album (the first on Straight Records) he exaggerates depression, carrying it to its highest degree.

Its really a shame how the confines of the recording process have finally clamped their stifling fingers on this one-time pure and untouched wandering minstrel.

Blue Afternoon is a concrete example of the disadvantage of recorded music. Adding to the overall depression ist the fact that there is virtually no variation between songs. ’’Hear one and you’ve heard them all," applies in its literal sense. The arrangements are barely discernable. Buckley’s guitar is banal and hardly up to what he has shown he is capable of doing. His voice hardly approaches perfection or even sincerity. The lyrics are base (”I just came to chase the blues away for awhile") and certainly not the poetry of Buckley’s previous songwriting, alone or with Larry Beckett.

He seems to be holding back--not giving us his all. The vocals are a far too soothing monotone, making the entire album a depressant. The only way I can imagine someone listening to the whole album is if they want to be brought down or put to sleep.

It’s Tim all right. I can tell by the meandering vowel endings; overuse of vibes, and the ” b 1 o o o o oooooooooooooooooo-ues“’s, ”Oh Lord“s, ’’while I’m awaaaaaay yy y “s and ”my mamaaaaaaaaa“s. But, those familiar gutsy screams are absent. Emotion is castrated. Poetry is forsaken. Diction is ignored.

There’s no sense in going througheach song separately, because like before, they’re all the same. The only time the sun shines on this blue afternoon is in a little eight-minute ditty called The Train, which basibally fits in with - the whole ’’blue" tone of Ihe album. But he slips and injects some balls and emotion into this one. The lyrics are worth listening to and understandable and the accompaniment doesn’t obscure the vocals. It is also the only song where Buckley varies the volume and tonal quality of his voice.

It is interesting to note that Buckley produced this one himself. And judging from it, he should probably concentrate more on creating decent stuff to produce.

1 don’t know what could have possibly happened to make Tim so ’’blue" and wasted-except that maybe his chick ran off and married some English pop star.

Anyway, all I’m really sure of is that this ain’t the Tim Buckley I used to know.

Debbie Burr

THE WEDDING ALBUM JOHN ONO LENNON/YOKO ONO LENNON APPLE SMAX 3361

Any writer who sits down to review, criticize or even write “about” a John &Yoko album, finds himself in a curious paradox. He can tell you exactly what he hears; or he can tell you how he interprets what he hears. This was especially true of their first two albums; Unfinished Music No. 1: Two Virgins and Unfinished Music No. 2: Life With The Lions. (Available on Tetragrammatron T-50001 and Apple ST335-7, respectively.)

Wedding Album, however, is a great deal different. To begin with, it is as much a visual presentation as a recorded one. It'is, in fact, just what it says it isa wedding album. The same kind of thing your homely cousin, Myrtle, has; to commemorate her blissful marriage to short, fat Harry. Of course, this isn’t short fat Harry - this is John Lennon, chief Beatle; and, needless to say, any ■ resemblance between your cousin, Myrtle, and Yoko Ono is really weird.

Nevertheless, there is is; all packaged for you in a nice white boxJohn and Yoko’s Wedding Album. Being that it sells for $9.95, you’ll obviously want to know what yt>u’re getting; therefore, let us begin: From the very outset, 1 would like to squelch the persistent rumor that this album package contains a 50foot, 8 millimeter film of John and Yoko* frolicing in the nude, with seven albino midgets on St; John’s Wood. A project, similar to this, is scheduled for theirfirst anniversary album, but believe me, no such film is included in the Wedding Album package.

Right there, on the cover, the happy couple pose on the steps of the Registrar’s office after the ceremony. Upon opening the box we find, pasted to the inside of the top lid, a copy of the Marriage Certificate containing all the required information. Once inside the package, the treasure chest of goodies really opens up. First, there’s a poster size fold out (slightly larger than the one in the Beatles double lp.) which incudes pictures of John and Yoko during the ceremony; on a plane; their “bed-in” honeymoon in Amsterdam; and various other photos.. Next, we perceive a 16-page booklet, with a plain back coyer, entitled The Press. If you recall John and Yoko sang their press clippings to us in No Bed For Beatle John a cut from their least album. Life With the Lions. Here they present their clippings from newspapers around the world in solid form. Most of them are not favorable to the newlyweds. Perhaps this accounts for the black cover-as opposed to John and Yoko, who are almost always seen clad in white. Moving along, we discover a truly touching momento; -a white polyethylene bag with the word Bagism printed near the top in black letters. Inside this bag (got your handkerchiefs ready?), is an 11 1 /2“ by 11 1 /2” glossy picture of a piece of John and Yoko’s wedding cake. Just think, they saved a piece for all of us. Forging ahead, we come \ to another, we poster size fold-out. This one features a full page of John’s drawings on one side and Yoko’s sketchings on the reverse side. Further examination uncovers a series of four snapshots (like the ones you get from the “4 for a quarter” machines in drug stores). John wears a hat in these four snaps-, for all you hat freaks. Delving ever deeper we behold a post card. It’s an ordinary post card, with a place for a stamp on the back and everything; oh, yes, the front of the card displays the now famous picture of John arid Yoko in bed with the two signs: Hair Peace and Bed Peace hanging above their heads.

Incidentally, there’s a record in there too. The record jacket shows John and Yoko kissing; then opens to a center-fold picture of a huge bedside press conference. The back-side of the jacket features a color picture of them sifting in bed (where else?).

Side: one of the album contains a

22:23 piece entitled John and Yoko. This is, if you take it in context with their other albums, a most logical cut. From the naked innocence of Two Virgins', through facing the accusing pointed finger of the public in Life With The Lions; to the final “legalization” of their love, by formal marriage. In short, side one of this album, John artql Yoko, is the sharing of their honeymoon night with you. It opens with the sound of beating hearts (much like Baby’s Heartbeat, from their Life with the Lions LP). Then the calls of love begin; Yoko,

John;

Yoko,

John;

The names are accentuated by varying emotions. The many faces of love are expressed, fully, in just the calling of a name; feelings of aimless search; deep passion; coy warning; sighs of relief; ultimate gratification; and humor, as John imitates Yoko’s high pitched whine. Sometimes their voices are barely above a whisper; then suddenly they cry out for each other with desperate intensity. Listening to this piece will no doubt give great delight to clock watchers. 1 estimate the time of orgasm at approximately 18:50. If you’re a medical buff, a more accurate timing could probably be achieved by checking the continuous pounding of the heartbeats.

Yoko?

John?

Side two of the album is called Amsterdam. It can best be described as a 24:52 collage of music, interviews, idle chatter and song. It begins with

John saying, “Okay, Yoko”; and Yoko goes into a peace chant.

“Peace, peace, peace,

Let’s hope for peace, Pe-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eace.”

Upon completion of Yoko’s chant, John announces (partially in German),

“.this is the Peace Corps.” What

follows is an interview with John and Yoko, during which John sets forth his ideas on world peace.

“We think that peace is only got by peaceful methods; and that to fight the establishment with their own weapons is no good, because they always win and they’ve been winning for thousands of years. They know how to play the game of violence; and it’s easier for them when they can recognize you and shoot you. But they don’t know how to handle humor and peaceful humor; and that’s our message, really.”

The interview leads into bird whistles and the sound of amplifiers, punctuated by John hollering, “Stay in bed” to guitar accompaniment. John and Yoko then talk, vaguely, about bagism and order their breakfast. Suddenly, there’s a quick cut to another interview session sitar music and John joking with the press. As' the side nears its end, John and Yoko sing bits and pieces of various little tunes. A fond farewell from John: Goodbye,

Amsterdam,

Goodbye.

A meaningful significant parting message from Yoko;

Stay in bed,

For peace .

Grow your hair.

John then proceeds to sing a mock version of Good Night (the last cut from the Beatles double LP), yawning all the away through it. He and Yoko quietly talk; just the two of them, together after a hard day of interviews. Then, without any warning John "(accompanying himself on guitar) sings out:

Hair peace,

Bed peace,

Oh, yeah.

And side two fades out in a loud sweeping feedback; somewhat like a jet plane taking off for new horizons

With this album, John and Yoko seem to have found their place in a world that is basically hostile to them. This is not Unfinished Music No. 3; Wedding Album is a complete entity unto itself. Their Marriage Certificate Has, miraculously, transformed them from immoral creatures living in sin to good, righteous citizens of the community. John has even adopted Ono as his middle name. Their ideas of conquering hate with love and defeating war with peace are debatable. Their right to pursue these ideas is unquestionaable.

Are John and Yoko’s albums really art? Is an Andy Warhol soup can art? Are Petticoat Junction and the Beverly Hillbillies r.eally art? How about the King Family?

Is Wedding Abum a great recording achievement? Probably not. But it is new, different and interesting. When you play it, lie in bedit helps the mood.

Mike Monaghan

FRIJID PINK-FRIJID PINK; Parrot PAS 71033

This album is a pleasant surprise. It’s one of the finest products yet of Detroit’s rock scene. Frijid Pink aren’t that well known in the area and certainly haven’t received the effective publicity that the other two Detroil groups with successful albums (MC5 and Stooges) have had. Yet there are moments when this album is up to anything else I’ve heard in recent months.

The first and best of those moments is on the first cut, God Gave Me You. This is the first song I heard after the Rolling Stones concert and I liked it then which is something of a compliment in itself. It’s simply an excellent pop song; reminiscent of a lot of things, yes, but vocalist Kelly Green’s voice carries it well. While God Gave Me You was a single about six or eight months ago, it never hit. Why is mysterious; it’s certainly the most effective 45 release any of the new wave of Michigan bands has produced.

Cont. Next Page"

Crying Shame opens up with an Asheton-riff reminiscent of the inimitable I Wanna Be Your Dog. It’s more fun than God Gave Me You tho’ugh not really quite as moving. Still, an excellent song.

I’m On My Way reflects Detroit’s unfortunate Jove for Savoy Brown’s, boogies. Nay. The first half-dozen times you might like it, but like Savoy, it soon wears thin. The Drivin ’ Blues is a damn fine song which is exactly what the title implies-good.driving blues/rock.

As distinctively Frijid Pink as anything else, Tell Me Why reflects the Pink’s ambitions and limitations. Which means that they try to be a kind of Fred Smith-less MC5. If the band had an individual who was as instrumentally unique as Fred, they could probably pull this off. But lacking him the cut is merely interesting for the reasons why it doesn’t work.

Same thing happens on End of the Line though here the source of inspiration seems to be more Zeppelin than Five. The group needs to realize its limitations, what it can and can’t do; but, like the Frost, if a group can write one Mystery Man or God Gave Me You it should be able to write a dozen. Which would certainly be no deficiency, merely a development of talents along the lines to which they’re best suited.

The band’s arrangement of House of Jhe Rising Sunwhich is, I b.elieve, their new single release, is creditable. Certainly it is not up to the classic version by the Animals but-,on the other hand, it .is an interesting and effective glimpse at a rock standard.

Unfortunately, the group loses it on the last two cuts on the last side-/ Want to be Your Lover and Boozin ’ Blues a blues/rock melange you’ve heard too many times elsewhere. A veritable drag.

yiiich is really unfortunate because the Frijid Pink show some talent on this record. Which leads one to hope that the next one could be a killer.

Dave Marsh

OUT HERE - LOVE; Blue Thumb BTS 9000

Love, like the Byrds, has by now gone through enough personnel changes so that only leader Arthur Lee (identified on the album as Arthurly) is left from the original group. This is also the new group’s first album for a new label, Blue Thumb, after their move from Elektra earlier this year.

To discuss the group is primarily to discuss Arthur Lee, a Los Angeles black man, recluse, junkie. Love was the first rock group signed to .Elektra (yes, even before the Doors) and even then the basic cynicism of Lee shone through. They did make the mistake of having a hit Little Red Book, that was pretty much unlike what was on their album; as' a result, perhaps, they never had another. They did come out with two other albums: Da Capo and Forever Changes which, while not astounding, were competent and had some extremely interesting moments. Forever Changes was, for me, one of the few successful orchestrated albums of 1967-68.

Which brings us to the album at hand; like almost any two record Set, this record could potentially have been

an excellent single album. But the whole point of the double album, apparently, is to allow the artist to attempt things he ordinarily wouldn’t have time for. And as an example of that kind of record, Out Here is more acceptable.

Lee’s cynicism starts off right at the beginning in the sarcastic I’ll Pray for You “and even if you don’t have faith/l’il give to you”. Typically enough, the music is mainstream Amerikan rock and roll, with special highlights from Jim Hobson’s piano. Abalony, which follows, is merely a good jam that could have come from any of the other records. Not really offensive, but nothing special either.

Signed D.C. is a remake of a tune from the first Elektra album-a pre-Heroin scag song. Extended and improved, Signed D.C. now reflects a completely different perspective. Where on the earlier version the song was done straight out, this time Lee comments on his statements, both verbally (e.g. “My .soul belongs to the dealer, dealer, dealer/He keeps my mind as well. You know he does.”) and instrumentally as the original 3 minute composition is almost doubled in length to include freer guitar _and harmonica interplay. The original self-pitying whimper is now at least occasionally translated into questioning grief. All of which is to say that, eventually, one adjusts to smack, I suppose.

Listen to my Song is a deceptive cut; happy sounding, Lee even whistles for a couple of choruses (an art I thought only Fred Neil had taken the time to nuture of late). Yet, the lyrics reveal the music as utterly deceptive--“they told me that you sold me...all it was was a portion of my lifetime.” This is followed by the Beatlish I’m Down which begins identically with their version “I’m down, down on the ground”. But, where the Beatles really expected help, Lee sees only a desperate futility (e.g. “Is there anything left for me?”). Again, his basic comment on whatever is going on is a retreat into self-pity.

The second side opens with Stand Out, one of the best songs on the record; it sounds like a 1966 song with 1969 instrumentation. The vocal, in the manner of Joe Tex (although not that well done), is talked/sung; “I’m supposed to love you/but 1 don’t know why” just about sums up every lyric Arthur Lee’s ever written. Jay Donnelly’s guitar work at the end is about the best on the record, reminiscent of Jorma Kaukonen’s for the Airplane.

The rest of the side is a throw-away.

Discharged is an off-key anti-war chant which is hardly worth discussion. Doggone, the longest cut on the set, is, as might be expected, also the weakest. As a three to five minute cut it would probably be successful but running for twelve minutes of largely drum soloing, the cut is a miserable failure. The opening is guitar-pretty; if Lee were a Mississippi spade this cut would have only an acoustic guitar and maybe a harp. It would also be a lot better off. But the lyrics reveal what it’s really about; “Once I had a singing group...Now I’ve got another group/Didn’t take too long”. Take that Jac Holzman. But he wrecks" with the drum solo... weird drums at least, sp ra ww wwwwwwwng,' sproooooooooong, sprawwwwwwwwwwwwng. A relief when it’s over anyway.

Side C opens up with one of those faintly Latin cuts that Da Capo was filled with. It’S another smack song, much better, really, than Signed D.C. at least on musical levels; more advanced and all. But it evokes the same emotion without giving the same feeling of disgust; which makes it slightly less worthwhile. ‘Think I’ll take some time and get myself together/But I know that I’ll be back/And I-i-i-i-i-i-i-I don’t, really care.” Which is not exactly your run-of-the-mill optimistic album; Arthur Lee would like to be a Cassandra.

Sung in a CSN&Y manner, the song is almost a parody of their sick/sweet lyrical stylings. Trying to imagine them singing a song about anything as real as smack is really hilarious; if it is a parody, it’s a great song. Even if it isn’t, it’s a damn fine one.

As if to make up for Doggone we are next treated to a “psychedelic” song, in all the best senses. Love is More Than Words (or Better Late Than Never) is the first trippy, acid-rock song I’ve heard in a long time. It’s for real, too. The guitar (played by Gary Rowles, rather than Jay Donnelly, the group’s new “regular” guitarist) bellows like a dinosaur lost in some primeval jungle. It’s 1969 American pop-psychedelic, just about like Jimmy Page and just that much fun. Out of this chaos, emerges an image much freer, much more loose than LoVe has ever been; this isn’t really Arthur Lee’s past style at all. He’s always been far too repressed and brooding for any of this liberated shit. Apparently, what we have is a new, and better, Arthurly, like the same album says so. Yes, indeed, this is a great song, as good as Whole Lotta Love almost; and that’s damn good.

The next two cuts, unfortunately, lose all of thatvV/ce to Be falls back into the old Love trap of over-reliance on Arthur Lee and emerges as pretty pop. Not really at all interesting. Car Lights On In The Daylight Blues is, like Discharged, Arthur Lee’s attempt to be topical or current or whatever. It too doesn’t make it, at all.

The final side starts off with one of the best songs on the album, Run To The Top, and builds from there. Run To The Top features Jim Hobson (on keyboards on Fll Pray For You, the first song of the set), who’s on organ here. A most pleasant song, no room for complaint or over-interpretation but simply nice.

Willow-Willow, omniously begun, i.s confirmation that, in the midst of anything and everything else they’re still Arthur Lee’s band. “I know, I know/You don’t have to explain it”; it’s true, too. Instra-mental is Nice-like; unfortunately, a bore and a drag which mars what is otherwise the finest side of the album.

You Are Something reflects rock music when it was best; it captures some of the essential drive and energy that rock and roll needs. Donnelly’s guitar work is excellent, capturing the spirit occasionally, of xylophone, synthesizer, piano and clavichord. An excellent jam.

Gather Round closes the set, a song about a man whose mind is filled up with bullshit (right there in the lyrics, it says so.) Not as pretentious as that really. Like this record, it could be really great if it wasn’t just a tad overdone.

Dave Marsh

SPACE MODERN JAZZ QUARTET-APPLE STAO 3360 Visitor from Venus; Visitor from Mars; Here’s That Rainy Day; Dilemma; Adagio from Concierto De Aranjuez John Lewis, piano; Milt Jackson, vibes fercy Heath, bass; Connie Kay, drums

SPIRIT OF 1976EMIL RICHARDS AND THE MICROTONAL BLUES BANDIMPULSE AS9182 Spirit of 1976; Peek-A-Bo; All Blue; One Tooth Grin; Like Me; 10 To 5;Jordu Richards, vibes, electric octave marimba, percussion; Dave McKay, piano percussion; Ray Neapolitan, bass, fender bass; Joe Par carp, drums; Mark Stevens, percussion. Recorded live.

The common factors between these two groups are that they both have basically the same instrumentation and they are both trying to transcend ther basic jazz orientation. The Modern Jazz Quartet’s transcension of being just another 'jazz group is successful. Richards’ effort seems gimmicky and is not very original. The MJQ’s second record on Apple has all the trademarks ‘ that the group has developed in the last 17 years: All the selections are carefully arranged by John Lewis,containing more emphasis on writ,ten parts than is to be found in any other prominent small jazz group. There is the blues piece for Milt Jackson (Mars) , the standard (Rainy Day), and the classical piece ( Concierto de Aranjuez). Lewis’ piano solos are still staccato single note lines contrasted, with Jackson’s fluid vib^ sound and Heath is still strong while’Kay is quiet and discreet. In short, their approach hasn’t changed much over the yearsit is a tribute to the original conception that it is still unique and interesting. The subtlety of their approach is so complete that even the up-tempo numbers have a feeling of relaxation and calm. What keeps this low-keyed beauty from lulling the listener into boredom is Lewis’ strong sense of rhythm and the variety and interplay of sounds his arrangements solicit from the four instruments. Although he is more eccentric than original as a pianist, his arrangements have confirmed his stature a's an important contemporary artist. As one critic has suggested, Lewis’ main instrument is not the piano but rather the quartet as a whole.

The only piece that doesn’t offer ' satisfactory MJQ fare is the Adagio From Concierto de Aranjuez. Anyone who has heard Miles Davis’ version on his Sketches of Spain album will find it impossible not to make comparisons. Miles’ rendition remains the definitive version. Here it is given a music box reading and though Jackson creates many colors on his vibes, the delivery pf his instrument prevents him from making the passionate statements that made Miles’ record so bittersweet (of course, Miles had the added benefit of the Gil Evans Orchestra’s sensitive backing - still, his ability to™ be emotionally moving is, by now, a proven fact.)

The group isn’t as extroverted as some taste will require. But those who have become accustomed to its peaceful groove will not be disappointed.

. After listening to Milt Jackson, Emil Richards sounds like he’s playing a toy xylophone. But its not really fair to compare Richards to an acknowledged master since rarely does his playing rise above the “good money-good food” level. Ljke the kind of jazz you hear in movies or “hip” eateries. He’s good, but that’s not enough for a jazzman. You have to say something. Make a musical proclamation with some feeling attached.

Richards’ band (which isn’t a blues band as its title would have us believe) would be a good second string unit if it didn’t have the pretension of trying to appear experimentaland if its alleged experimentation wasn’t in the area of time signatures. Each selection is in some “exotic” time which does absolutely nothing to improve the artistry of the group. This is a throwback to Dave Brubeck, Don Ellis, and other musicians (most of them white for some reasonas is Richards) who .have already exploited this thing without any noticeable results. I don’t see the point and doubt if there is any aside from the technical pleasure a musician derives from being able to keep time.

So Richards plays ordinary vibes in disguise. Pianist McKay plays standard funk, not too dirty and Neapolitan plays hypnotic fender bass lines. And the drummer copes with the time. Right off.

Richard C. Walls

THE ROD STEWART ALBUM - ROD STEWART; Mercury SR 61237.

This is the Jeff Group (ex-) without Jeff Beck and a nice, sometimes exciting record. How much Beck contributed to molding a characteristic “English Sound” is up in the air as far as I’m concerned, but by this time that approach is so much of an institution that this album, which is certainly very English, can be compared favorably with anything that Beck himself has done' with these same people, and it’s 'unnecessary to think about whether they’re just exploiting ready mades. Whatever Beck may have had to contribute to this sound has been solidly assimilated, and these are some of its most competent practitioners. That is to say, this is not an album that Beck would have made with the band, but his hand can be strongly felt.

1 think it’s fair to say that Rod Stewart hasn’t taken the rock and roll vocal to any new heights, but he’s certainly an excellent singer in a medium that of late has seen fewer and fewer real breakthroughs. As a prototype of the English rock and roll singer/star he’s probably m'ore admirable than his opposite number, Robert Plant. He has better control, a greater emotional range, and being less stylized is somehow more convincing (but doesn’t have as good hair).

But the best thing about this record (to me, as they say) is bass player Ron Wood’s slide guitar work. The Cut is Street Fighting Man, on which of course Stewart can’t even approach Mick Jagger (it doesn’t seem the right kind of tune for him at all), on which the band glows back of Wood’s long, slow sensuous slides and quick accents. Like Jeremy Spencer, Wood exploits many of the possibilities of electric slide playing (built around long sustained tone changes) that Elmore James didn’t get to. If anything, his playing is even more stylized than Spencer’s (Man Of Constant Sorrow), if not as precise. A lot of attention has been refocused on slide guitar of late, maybe as a byproduct of one of the countless Blues Revivals, and I think it’s a Good Thing. The quality of the sound involved, and the way you have to approach the instrument are vitally organic and much needed in a music that seems to be growing colder and more confined by a continual need to press outward.

This is an album of consolidation, of some softness and some hardness, with a little bit of folk feel in the inflection and pace of the .slower cuts, and some feeling for the blues, as an influence and. not a preoccupation. Stewart’s vocals are sometimes too mannered, but nothing on the record is really offensive. The worst crime they commit on any of the cuts is being forgettable, and things being what they are that isn’t too bad at all. On the whole; I have a positive feeling about the record. Having heard it. 1 want to keep it.

Deday LaRene

HEAD START - Bob Thiele Emergency — Flying Dutchman FDS-104

This two-re c-: ord-for-the-price-of-one-set can be considered a sampler for the new Flying Dutchman label. Thiele is the producer of the label and he has gathered a wide range of musicians that he has been associated with to concoct this very mixed bag. His own direct artistic participation is limited to a brief recitation on side four.

Side one features four cuts by a big band, a type of musical unit which holds little appeal for me. But, in this case, the archaic screaming brass and the customarily unwieldy attempts to adapt the big band sound to rock modes are augmented by electric guitar and Fender bass - also (in two cases) by clever arrangements, ^nd (in one case) by a perfect mating of approach and material. The arrangement is the focal point on Freaking Zeke and Lanoola Goes Limp, both compositions by reedman Tom Scott. There’s nothing in the solos but the same old funky Ticks which have lived past their ability to mean anything. Fortunately, ' the arrangements have a tongue-in-cheekapproach that save the cuts from being dull. Beatle Ballads is "a seven-minute medley, consisting of Blackbird, Julia and / WillilThe first two are treate4 with proper //reverence and are the best non-Beatle versions of these tunes I’ve heard. No improvisations, no up-timpo pushing, just simple statements of the melody. I Will is used as a vehicle to parody the Tijuana Brass approach which is appropriate since the original; version by the Beatles was something of a parody itself — a little too cute too be taken Seriously. The remaining cut on this side is’ Head Start which is two minutes and fifty-four seconds of big band with a pseudo-rock beat boredom. Zero.

Side two is called The Jazz Story with the instrumentation varying from big band to quintet. To condense a musical telling of the history of jazz into 24 minutes is a very ambitious project. And, as would be expected, not wholly successful. The side starts out with Pickin’ Tater BlueS sung by George “Harmonica” Smith, backed up by Joe Pass on acoustic guitar. This is a short . field blues (one of the roots of jazz) of no particular interest. From the field we go to a funeral (another root) where a dirge accompanies ppj casket to the burial grounds and a happier. “Dixieland” jam accompaines the people home (I think this tradition is still observed sometimes in Ne\v Orleans). This close to the real thing, not an A1 Hirt mutation. Next the Dixieband plays High Society in a very spirited manner, although I have yet to be converted. Part three is called Jungle Sounds and takes us to the twenties and the early big bands, particularly Duke Ellington. Cute but still Paleolithic. Then Swing Era, a short merciful piece followed by a small group playing “be bop”. This is an exemplary piece of music but not very interesting. A lot of the be-bop cliches are there, on purpose, so there is none of the freshness that can still be found in Charlie Parker. The avant-garde is represented by the John Carter-Bobby Bradford Quartet with the addition of Horace Tapscott on piano. This piece is interesting out not very exemplary, the prime influence being early Ornette Coleman, executed with great dexterity. The culminating piece is a pretty big band number I guess you could call “modern”. It doesn’t fit into the scheme of the story but apart from the avant-garde section it is ’ the most convincing piece on the side. The overall side is an interesting effort (mostly the brainchild of twenty-year-old reedman Tom Scott) but much too selective to be comprehensive and not informative enough for those who' aren’t already familiar with the music;: r

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Side three is. called Dedicatibfi to John Coltrane. It begins with a trio cut with Joe Farrell on flute, Wilbur Little' on bass, and Hlvin Jones on drums (using brushes); It is a beautiful, pastoral piece which doesn’t drag and which reveals more on each rehearing. A Love Supreme has famous dj Rosko reciting Trane’s poem with Joe Farrell supplying mood music on flute. 1 feel no affinity for this peom but the problem is more semantical than spiritual. The word “God” is used forty times infour and a half minutes and for me this word has mostly negative conotations. For that matter, so does the word “Rosko”. The third and final cut of the side, Holiday for a Graveyard, is a curiosity performed by Ornette Coleman and friends (Coleman, alto sax; David 'Izenzan and Charlie Haden brasses-fand Charles Moffett, drums)'. It is a five minute exeert from a larger perfromance artd the recording quality is as bad as any E.S.P.’ record-drumsover recorded, basses under recorded. There’s many better examples of Ornette’s playing^h record.

The fourth side is one sprawling '’ program piece called A Few Thoughts For the Day, ft features the orchestra from the first side with electronic effects from composer-, Jon Appleton,, playing music woven around recordings of Martin Luther Km'j the Kennedys, and Nixon, with the added treat (?) of •Bob Thiele reading a dry witted “poem” by famous liner note writer Frank Kofsky. The music is alternately interesting and dull, all of it pretty somber. The recitation’s heart is in the right place though it doesn’t have an excess of profundities.

Nor does the whole record. Its Variety has an intrinsic appeal, but when examined in parts it seldom rised above the mediocre.

Richard C. Walls

BALLZY - AMBROSE SLADE; Fontana SRF 67598.

Remember the mods and rockers? Well", Skinheads are like that only different. Skinheads are the latest manifestation of the lowest level of England’s ' pop culture syndrome, custom made for Time magazine. They have really short hair and wear Suspenders,.white. T-shirts and big army boots and like to kick ass (usually long haired ass). Beautiful. Nobody seems to know who they were before they were skinheads. They weren’t rockers ‘ (according .to.,the rockers, who are .nowall kind of pot-bellied over-thirtymotorcycle 'types, according to our sources), and 1 seriously doubt they were long-haired type freaks. One wonders what the English equivalent of a cracker is, but these dudes aren’t it; they’re just another fad (although the art of honkie-being may be currently enjoying a renaissance in Amerika, it’s sure no fad). Anyway, everywhere they go there are these huge brawls, in the grand tradition of the Mod-Rocker Beach Parties of 1963-64, between (right on!) the longhairs and the skinheads (inevitably, we are assured, at the skinheads’ insistence).

Do you wonder at, all what kind of music skinheads listen to? (No matter how jive you are, you got to have your music, right?) I did, and figured it must be Gene Vincent and Jerry Lee Lewis, and all that kind of empty headed organic (good, old) rock and roll. No such luck. We have here an album called Ballzy, by a band called Ambrose Slade. Apparantly Ambrose Slade is now called simply Slade (tuff, right?), and is the absolute number one best loyed ace skinhead music band in England. This album is only a few weeks old, though,

. and despite the change of name we must assume that the music captured therein represents the true stateof the art as practices by these boys, whatever their name is. V

It ain’t too heavy, I’m afraid Everything is predicable low energy, rushed, and full of holes, and there isn’t an inventive guitar lick on the whole album, pnglish bands generally have a Certain air about them, but it’s absent here. They’re neither English-heavy nor English-smooth, instead they have this ..kind .-... J.f .... tnidwestern , Amerika. awkwardness about the - music, swooshing noises (on Genesis, which is clearly intended to be the blockbuster cut on the album) and Kurt Weil overtones (on Pity The Mother, a real heart-renderer about a young girl who iw forced into prostitution (would you believe it?) to support herself and her child, daddy apparently having split) notwithstanding. Oh yeah, they also do their version .of Martha My Dear which sounds a good bit like the Beatles’ version of Martha My Dear (a nice song, mind you (I’ve always liked doggie songs), but it doesn’t exactly reek of .Leather).

This is the second name change for the boys this year. Before beingAmbrose Slade they were the lnbetweens (1 wonder what that name meant?), with quite a reputation around Wolverhampton, Germany and Spain, but “recording manager^ Jack Baverstock” changed it for them. “It is because of Jack Baverstock’s faith in the group’s all-around ability,” the liner notes inform us, “that they have a debut album out so early in their new name career.” What I take this Jo.mean is that before they were skinheads they were some rich kid’s plastic pets.

There are no. photographs on the . album cover, but there are drawings on the back that, show them with enough hair to. properly infuriate any self-respecting skinhead. Yet lo and ' behold, here they are today, every skinhead chick’s (can you picture that?) dreamfuck. How to explain it? Well, all I can figure is that something here (Slade, Ambrose Slade, skinheads, Jack Baverstock) is a shuck. Maybe all of it' is. Yeah, 1 think that’s it all right.

Deday LaRene