SURVIVAL - GRAND FUNK - CAPITOL ST 746

The message of Survival is simple: Grand Funk understand. At a time when it doesn�t seem like anyone else cares, Grand Funk seek out, and speak for, an audience of young kids, clearly and concisely.

Secondly, Grand Funk is one fuckin� good rock�n�roll band. They kick out a set of jams that are extremely diversified (given the genre) for two solid sides here, with only one really bad cut among them. Rather than perfectly honed, stylized-Los Angeles session man music, Grand Funk play rock�n�roll, stripped to the bone. Just getting on with it. This is Midwestern, AMERICAN rock�n�roll, all the antecedents assimilated, readily accessible if you�re looking to nit-pick, but totally viable on its own terms.

Because Grand Funk understand not only their audience, but themselves (perhaps because they are very much a part of that audience) they are now capable of producing an album that treads the finest edge of pretension within their own style — and yet walks away thoroughly successful. Survival never loses the essence of the matter, even when it retreats from its basic trio formula into something a bit more complex (backing singers, keyboards) — it always has the rock�n�roll drive that made them successful in the first place.

Their albums have never kicked it out like their concerts dnd that is this album�s primary weakness^ a tendency to plod a mite when the instrumental passages are a bit overlong. On the other hand, that plodding is extremely effective when placed with Mark Farner�s droning vocal. All those elements — even the weakness of Famer�s voice, which would undeniably be a detriment anywhere else — are exploited near-perfectly on Survival. Proof enough, musically, that Grand Funk understand — how to make an album that really WORKS, one that sounds right. (Note this: the substance of The Rock is sound, not music. SOUND.).

It�s the spirit that matters. Even the grizzly grunts and hound dog yowls of �All You�ve Got Is Money� are totally in context. Sure, Grand Funk could play in a zoo. And maybe even sound good, too. But the important part of that is that, even in the zoo, ten thousand kids would turn up to see them.

The magic in this music is for people who have lived their adolesence post-Haight-Ashbury, post-Kent, post-Marin Shoot-out, post Altamont, even post-Woodstock. But the key to it is far simpler: Grand Funk understand.

There�s a great fear among those who think and write about rock�n�roll right now, a tremendous sense of paranoia that seems to say to us that rock�n�roll is losing its way, that rock�n�roll is dying. What we are really trying to say is that we have lost our way, that we can�t relate to rock�n�roll, as presented in the 70s, any longer. That�s not really true, of course, because everybody can pick up on rock�n�roll, as long as they don�t expect more of it than it�s willing to give. Rock�n�roll music is not ready to give us great technicians, for that would sUrely stultify its incompetent spirit. It is willing to give us great technology, for that can amplify its resounding power. Grand Funk are the perfect example of that statement, for they utilize technology in an almost brutally simple fashion. Yes, loud for the sake of loud; the sound of the city,, indeed, as the sound bf the city. No excuses, no �expectations�, just reelin� and rockin�.

Once one is prepared for nothing, everything opens up. �Country Road� seems significant, when no song of that title could possibly be significant (to me, anyway) because — precisely because — it takes the trouble to contradict itself. The sound of the city can�t go back to the country, because it�s never BEEN in the country: (It�s been in the city, natch!) But it can talk about going out to the country, to look for sanctuary, to look for comradeship and all those elusive, naive and intrinsically innocent virtues that, in the end, rock is based upon. Yes, rock�n�roll is the music of the child, and make no mistake, Grand Funk understands that. They are American children, as well, and that cannot be discounted. �What does it boil down to?�, a friend asked his wife, who�d just finished reading a story on the group. �They�re nice American boys who drink malted milk,� she replied.

Well, rock�n�roll started out to be nice American boys who drank malted milk. Look at Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly. And there�s nothing wrong with a retreat from decadence now. Especially now. God, how easy it seems.

For primitives, though, they sure understand a whole lot of modern America. Like her children. Listen to �Comfort Me�, which is a great song, one that operates on both good musical precepts and (surprise!) good social ones. �Comfort Me� = �Gimme Shelter�, in fact. The. same emotion is represented, and that�s what is important.

�Comfort me

In whatever I do

Comfort me

And I�ll comfort you too�

This is the anthem, the statement of purpose and direction that we�ve searched so hard for since the Stones crystallized what we were all looking for — shelter. Survival is an appropriate title for this album, for it speaks to the survival, not only bf rock�n�roll, but of a'generation. If you didn�t need comfort last May 4, then you surely will sometime soon. As I said, post-Kent, post-Altamont, post-Marin, what else is there to look for?

�Comfort me

And I�ll comfort you too�

Inescapably, then, because Mark, Don and Mel speak for American youth, they are drawn into what has happened — often with tragic consequences — to it of late. If they appear cynical, singing (in �All You�ve Got Is Money�):

�Everybody l^nows what�s wrong and , what�s right

But you can�t trust your own brother ...

All they want is your money� is that comment not perhaps directed at things that deserve cynicism? And isn�t their basic good-time feel (yup, that�s what it is, all right!) far better stated with — again from �Comfort* Me�:

�Start by doing what you know is right..

I just wanna be your friend,

You can trust me to the very end.�

It only appears to fall apart once, in �Feelin� All Right�. GF is probably better off, in general, when they don�t do otljer people�s songs — like most definitive things, they are limited by their very definitiveness to exactly what they define. And Grand Funk, it seems to me, primarily define American youth. In 1971, American youth is probably not �Feelin� Alright�. Not feelin� so good myself.

But �Gimme Shelter� is equal, on its own terms, with the Stones� version. Grand Funk understand that, too, precisely for what it is: the national anthem of a generation as Greil Marcus put it so well.

' Initially, �Shelter� is good because it is so STRONG. But, later, it becomes clear that the strength of this version is that — rather than appearing from outside to comment upon us — Grand Funk are speaking for us, not seeking shelter but DEMANDING it. There�s very little seperation between the band and its fans and that shows. Grand Funk, and its audience, are part of the same thing, a thing at once bigger than and thoroughly defined by, Grand Funk. There it is, as clear as day: aesthetic myth^hnd parallel history. Rock�n�rolHnusic. Any old way YOU choose it.

Grand Funk are not a problem to be solved, of course, any fool should be able to see that now. While all that they are connected with is not the shining exaihple of youth culture we would like it to be, they�re still the best thing going.

Grand Funk ARE an experience, meant to be lived, in which to participate. For they are in touch with what no one else is — the spirit of American youth, the children of the 70s.

It�s a good position to be in, but more than that, you�ve got to be good to be in that position. That�s harcjly a quid pro quo for quality, but this time it works. God Save Grand Funk.

(Oh yeah, and one other thing — Rock and roll will stand. Don�t forget.)

Dave Marsh.

NANTUCKET SLEIGHRIDE - MOUNTAIN - WINDFALL 5500

Nantucket Sleighride. Whalers of sturdy New England stock hauled by their harpooned prey in salt water acceleration. I happen to be a New Englander, but even if you�re not it remains a beautifully expressive image. It�s kind of a shame that the music on this album falls far short of the enchanting possibilities which its title implies.

From the Very beginning (which would be Leslie West�s solo album Mountain) I have had endless trouble relating to Mountain. I have listened to their albums (many more times than I actually cared to, but let�s give these fellas a chance), witnessed a couple of their live performances (and came away being one of the,very few out of untold thousands to find no major revelation in the West/Pappalardi stage relationship), and have suffered much abuse at the hands of (former) friends simply because I refuse to recognize the resurrection of Christ in the form of Leslie West.

Through all of thisJ could very easily have cultivated a Justifiable dislike for Mountain,' but I haven�t. They just bore me, which, in light of my affectection for powerhouse rock and roll (which Mountain supposedly excells at), may just be the unkindest cut of all. I pick up flashes of something every so often, but in the end they leave me cold.

^Leslie West�s guitar playing, primary grist for Mountain�s adoration mill, has always struck me as being terribly half-baked. In high school we would have called him an under-achiever. He obviously possesses all the tools, but it disturbs me to see him satisfied with the uninspired use he makes of them. His vocal work growls in the depths of the ineffectual, and Pappalardi�s is perfect counterpoint on the easy listening side. For a group that moves monstrous audiences with high energy assault, their music comes on like dynamite out of a spray can. Every effect reveals the conscious method of its construction, and they, seldom surprise me enough to keep me interested. Their music may indeed rank among the heaviest sounds going down anywhere around, but there�s little real excitement to be found. Not only am I aware of what they are doing when I listen to Mountain�s records, but I am equally aware of what they are attempting to do, and this makes for an extremely dull experience.

I reacted to Nantucket Sleighride in essentially the same manner as I reacted to the other two albums, and I expect that this will hold true for the staunchest defenders of the faith as well. The production appears one step above that of Climbing, but the music remains mostly untouched. I came away partially impressed by �Travelin� In The Dark� and maybe even �My Lady�, but was unmoved by any of it. If success does indeed run according to formula, then Mountain apparently thinks they�ve found it and appear unwilling to alter it. But then again, who among you is going to argue against success? It sure as hell won�t be me, because I�m presently doing my best to ignore it.

RAT ON! - SWAMP DOGG - ELEKTRA EKS-74089

Swamp E)ogg don�t fuck around. Besides writing or co-writing (many with U.S. Bonds) eight of the album�s 10 songs, he arranged produced, played piano, did the vocals and background vocals, �and everything else of any importance.� What�s more, he did a really fine job in every aspect.

This is his second album, and finds him in a more lyrical mood than the primitive nihilism of Total Destruction to Your Mind. But still just as good; he uses all the traditional rhythm and blues instrumentation and, again, takes it somewhere else, with R and B as the launching pad. (Now, if only he could design an album cover.)

Swamp Dogg�s songs are built around the guitar — Jesse Carr displays some of the finest chops extant — or around his own pianp, which sounds kind of like Ray Charles filtered down through Richard Manuel. The horn section is mostly for punctuation, but, unlike most used similarly, avoids cliches. And Swamp Dogg�s own high, slightly-pinched voice rounds it out.

The album opens with one of "his �message� songs, �Do You Believe,� which features Carr playing a slow, slow wah-wah, and a humorous background chorus that keeps it in perspective. Other songs in this vein are �Remember, I Said Tomorrow,� the most biting,and �Do Our Thing Together,� which is in a James Brown-styled groove, and �God Bless America.�

�Predicament No. 2� is about his blissfully ^ schizophrenic love life. �Creeping Away� is one example of Swamp Dogg�s abilities as a lyricist: �I got two legs of chicken/And a half-pint of gin/I�ll be foolin� feelin� good/By the time that the bus pulls in/(Lawd knows) I�m creeping away/Creeping away/Creeping away/Going to see my baby.�

Then it turns out the song is like �Predicament:� �I got my bread in North Carolina/And my butter in Tennessee.� By the time we get to �That Ain�t My Wife� on side two, the tables have been turned and it�s his wife who�s getting in some loving on the sly. All three of these songs utilize typical blues themes — liquor, bus rides, two-timing mates etc. 4but each has a slightly different twist as well. Watch for them.

As an interpreter, Swamp Dogg excells, just like he did last time with two Joe South songs, on �Got to Get a Message to You,� another one of those BeeGee' tunes that sounds, well, wimpy in the original, but turns out to be something good in the hands of an artist who knows what to do with it. Also �She Even Woke Me Up to Say Goodbye,� which was a country hit for that Southern gentleman Jerry Lee Lewis.

When Motown has its last decent act doing Slychedelic versions of �Raindrops Keep Failin� On My Head,� when the do-or-die rhythms at Stax have died, when the old faithfuls on Atlantic have faded, it�s gonna be people like Swamp Dogg (and Fugi and Paul Kelly, to name two others) who will carry on.

John Morthland

P.S. — It is interesting to note that Leslie West, like Lou Reed, started with just another Long Island rock and roll band. Leslie�s (which also included his brother Larry on bass) was called the Vagrants. The Vagrants had a few unsuccessful singles out in 67-68 (which, in a harmlessly eclectic fashion, may be better than anything Mountain has done) and~ then were no more. Lou�s group (also no more) was called the Velvet Underground, and if you do not possess their latest album (Loaded) SHAME ON YOU!

Ben Edmonds

DELIVERIN� - POCO - EPIC LOOSE SALUTE - MICHAEL NESMITH AND THE FIRST NATIONAL BAND -RCA LSP-4415

Okay, what do these two records have in common?

Well, they�re both attempts at country-rock fusions, they both include steel guitar in their lineup, and both groups are based around members of other groups who were more famous. Poco is the brainchild of Richie Furay and Jimmy-eome-lately Messina, from the Buffalo Springfield, and the First National Band stars ex-Monkee Mike Nesmith.

Fine. Now what�s the difference between them?

Well, one of them really sucks. You can�t hear the steel guitar at all, and I wouldn�t be surprised to hear that the cat never even plugs in. The rest of the band is really lame, too.

I actually saw a Monkees concert once. About a million fifth-echelon Bay Area rock groups warmed the place up, and finally the stars went on and did their pitiful, hackneyed, we � ve-done-this-a-million-times-andpretty-soon-�We�ll-never-have-to-do-it-again act.

Then I went back to the hotel to interview them. Davy had split by the time I got there, and it was suggested that I try and get to Nesmith. I guess when he heard I was coming he went out the window, because he never answered the knock on his door. I finally wound up with Mickey Dolenz after an embarrasing scene involving a groupie who simply wouldn�t stay and wait through the interview, even though I assured her it ; wouldn�t take long. Mickey offered me some ��grass� (I could1 hear the quotation marks around it, the way he said it), which I declined, and he settled back with his 16-ounce tumbler of gin on the rocks.

During the interview, he told me that the Monkees were soon tribe no more. He seemed relieved. Davy would be going jinto production in a Broadway show, and he would go back into acting.

�What�s Nesmith gonna do?� I asked.

�He�s starting up a country and western band.�

�Ah,� I said. Isn�t everybody? I thought.

I never met the Buffalo Springfield, although I drove by the Buffalo Springfield in Springfield, Ohio plenty of times and even had the honor of waking up one morning to see a genuine 1920-vintage Buffalo Springfield steam roller parked in front of my house. It was red. In the town where I went to college, Richie Furay�s mother owned a store (and still does, for that matter); I never found anything I wanted to buy in it, though, even though it was a general-type store. But I liked the Buffalo Springfield much better than I liked the Monkees, and rest assured that I did like a couple of the Monkees� hits — �Last Train to Clarksville,� �Listen to the Band,� and maybe one other.

The only way to go from being a Monkee is up.

The whole of the Buffalo Springfield was greater than the sum of its parts. That was even true of the steam roller.

Poco�s whole trip, seems to be necrophilia — why else resurrect, even after all this while, all those old songs?

But the audience eats it all up.

I don�t even hear Rusty Young, except some passages that might be amplified dobro. It�s not very good, even so. I bet he doesn�t even know how to play pedal steel. \

Red Rhodes has been around a long time, and I was amazed to hear that he�d joined Nesmith�s group. He sure does play pretty, but he makes a great effort not to dominate the scene too much — a rare quality in a musician these days.

Nesmith isn�t exactly a memorable singer or songwriter, but be and his band make some mellow, laid-back music.

Poco�s audience whoops and rebel-yells like they were at the Grand Ole Opry or something. It figures. The album was recorded in Boston and New York.

You know, I gave Poco what I consider a fair chance to prove themselves. Three albums later, I say thumbs down,

I didn�t bother to listen to Nesmith�s first album. Prejudice, you know. The second is nothing special, but he does a creditable job on a tough nut like �I Fall To Pieces.� And Red Rhodes is so good.

TOUGH DAYS IN COUNTRY-ROCK COALITION. COMMANDER CODY, WE NEED YOU NOW.

Meanwhile, check out Nesmith, especially if you�re a Poco fan. You might switch brands.

Ed Ward

BLACK PEARL - BLACK PEARL ATLANTIC

Dave:

Here is the absolute ANUMBERONE most insane fucking killer album I have ever heard. I was just playing it today, screaming and yelping and jumping around the room & I sez shit I�ve gotta send this to ole Marsh & all the boys in Detroit City cause they�ll shit when they hear it! Couldn�t wait another second! Just typing to it right now is driving me on till the keys get all balled up and I roar away in blamming exclamation points! Put if on the ole machine right now, turn up up to the rumbling ceiling, slug a big glug or toke down and dig! Sorry the copy is so old and battered — this was the first one I ever had, recently bought a new one in a bargain bin� What I suggest you do is call up Atlantic records and get�em to send you a bunch of copies before it�s too late. They probably don�t know what else -to do with them any way ^ But I think Black Pearl was the only West Coast group to equal the accomplisments of the Stooges & MC5 or to reflect the whole spirit that�s Detroit�s special strength. And unfortunately their second album was mediocre and they broke up. But this artifact is a masterpiece. I was just listening to it for about the 300th time and dug for the first time how similar �•�Whitp Devil� is to the mood and sound of Stooges �Dirt� even though it was recorded a year or two earlier. And dig especially that high energy thrust, of charging guitars Mid taut vocal �so numb keepin me up alnite� in the middle of �Thinkin� Bout the Good Times,� �Forget It�s� final instrumental bars, the rhythmic shakes and shudders of �Climbin Up the Walls.� Fuck, dig the whole album. Pure energy is what it is.

Cataleptic cakewalk cheers,

Lester

GARY BURTON & KEITH JARRETT -ALTANTIC SD-1577

For some reason there don�t seem to be too many good New Music records coming around. Most of what I see are things that were recorded in the previous decade, and many of those come from foreign labels. I suppose the dry spell we are experiencing is due to what the people who control what records are released think will sell. Oh well. Sometimes, though, we do manage to get something which; even though it really isn�t that exciting, at least isn�t insulting. That seems to be what this record is about.

Keith Jarrett used to play with Charles Lloyd a few years ago, when the latter was the rage of the psychedelic set and being hyped as one of those messiahs who was to bring that music called jazz �back from the dead�. In the last Couple of years or so he has come out with several records with himself as leader, most of which ^showing off the fine playing of a very good pianist. On this record he is making music with some musicians who' have spent the last couple of years, trying to merge jazz and rock into some far out mutation that everyone could relate to, and on this date all we have is SQme nice, easy music to listen to.

Gary Burton & Keith Jarrett is a nice, simple, easy record to get along with. The only trouble anyone might have is that you might expect more from some of these people, and you won�t get what you expect.

There�s some good piano playiqg here. Jarrett is a very competent musician, and at times he reminds me of McCoy Tyner with his ability to swing in the most unlikely places. On this record he handles himself well, even though records with both vibes and piano tend to get confusing. But on this record the confusion is used to an advantage, and there are plenty of passages where the piano and vibes mesh very well.

Gary Burton is very light, almost impressionistic. I really can�t hear much of Burton alone, and what I can hear isn�t supposed to be that emotional enyway, however, it really doesn�t matter what emotionalisms I get or don�t get from Burton.

The songs stay mainly within a very limited range, and the; best music on the whole album is ip �Grow Your Own�, �Como En Vietmun,� and the last few seconds of �The Raven Speaks�, the latter two featuring Jarrett on soprano sax. .

Keith Jarrett is a much better pianist than soprano sixist, but his sax playing is still pretty good. He sounds a lot like Eddie Harris, and that can be a little upsetting if the way you�ve learned to listen to the soprano has been dictated by John Coltrane and Wayne Shorter.

This isn�t a record for anyone who doesn�t want some nice, soft music to listen to. As for me, I like it. It makes nice reading music, it�s not insulting, and doesn�t bore too quickly. The music is played well, even though at times you might not want to hear neo-latin rhythms that have been done into the ground (as in �Como En Vietnam�) or the now popular Nashville sound (which crops up at times in �In Your Quiet Place�) complete with echos of Glen Cambell.

Geoffrey Jacques

CHRISTIE - YELLOW RIVER - EPIC E30403

This is the year�s first and only undiscovered gem, for me at least; everyone seems to have found the usual obscureness to rave about (L.A. has adopted David Bowie, �Frisco�s grabbed up Ron Nagel with a vengence, N.Y. has literally fallen over the Flamin� Groovies — need I note that they first achieved popularity here a year ago, and in San Francisco two or three years ago, which kind of gives you some semblance of where the Big Apple�s eyes have been at in the interim — but Motown ain�t jumped on tiobody, �cept what was there all the time and maybe J. Geils, who were obvious and therefore no special claim.) but me, I ain�t had no new faves to rave about in six months, hardly; even if Christie ain�t no great shakes, and even if a whole lot of other writers (who ain�t necessarily part of the audience, y�understand) have listened to and enjoyed this album, well, no one�s written much about it, have they?

Yes, this record is just fine, it changes places with Wilson Pickett, the Bea,ch Boys and even Albert Ayler real fine and sometimes even with the Kinks, who hardly seem able to change places with anybody.

Mostly, Yellow River sounds like vintage rock�n�roll; from Beatles �65 or VI or maybe Something New; which puts them right in there contending for the 1965 band of 1971 award. Nobody else seems even a contender, except Hackamore Brick, who are more than a personal taste'. The Flamin� Groovies should arrive shortly, though, to settle the question. (It�s one of. the few questions that matter at the moment.)

It�s still �71 though, and you can tell because sometimes they sound a little country-fied. Not hillbilly but sort of cowboy-soul, like Ririgo trouncing �Act Naturally�. More like Buddy Holly/Carl Perkins Tex-Mex/rock-a-billy than lame-o Hollywood honkies.

Can they rock? Sure, �I�ve Got A Feelin� � could have been sung by John Lennon — and it was — or maybe even Carl Perkins. The advantages of being self-consciously derivative.

Needless to add, nothing so simpl(e/istic) is liable to be found bopping up the charts. At a time when Jesus Christ — Superstar sits enscounced at Number 1 with a * bullet (undoubtedly transcending the charts, even) it sure sits easy on the ears to hear �Yellow River� or the most plausible tune since �Boy from New York City� (which is called �New York City�) wrench some energy off the oF turntable:

It all comes back to what you�re looking for, I guess. If it�s music, I wouldn�t waste my time. But if you search long and hard enough through bargain bins and grocery stores for something that can cook in your skull, then by all means give this a listen. The guitar lines ain�t nothin� special — �Iriside Looking Out� is straight out of 1965 rock�n�roll — two of the numbers on side two alre trash (one of which is the band�s second single move, �San Bemadino�) and �Yellow River� treads a real fine line between being classic and an obnoxious overly-obvious single pick.' (I think it�s the second album the MC5 wished they�d made though . . . not lyrically but soundwise.) -

Can�t think of a more unlikely disc to celebrate; but the piano fills are in all the right places, the vocal energy is matched only by the sharpness and snazz of the legendary Groovies and all in all, I had a real good time.

There are plenty of records that serve worse purposes than that.

Dave Marsh

SELF DETERMINATION MUSIC - JOHN CARTER/BOBBY BRADFORD - FLYING DUTCHMAN FDS 128

�Self Determination� has become a phrase in which the word self is a plural pronoun. Working together against... But most importantly working together. This album is aptly titled.

The Carter/Bradford group, though it has not yet acquired the fame it deserves, is one of the best new music groups in the country. The empathy among the musicians, the imagination and .variety of the material, both written and improvised, and particularly the brilliant musicianship of Braclford and Tom Williamson make this record not only exciting and interesting but thoroughly enjoyable (i.e., you can become involved enough in this music to cop a share of the creative rush).

The pieces (all but �Storm� are by Carter) explore feelings with an engaging subtlety that,is the mark of the best jazz — and don�t let the word �subtlety� throw you, the energy level here can at times be very high. Carter�s talent as a composer is especially evident ;on side two, which is an exploration of two opposite emotional states, �Loneliness� and �Encounter�. Loneliness is a beautiful blue color, dark around the edges. Encounter may seem at first to be a celebration but it too has dark comers.. You can learn things from this music (e.g., that you can feel.).

You�ve probably* heard this line before, but these men need your support. If you are even vaguely interested in black culture, modem human expression or music then you should buy this record. It only takes a little self determination.

Richard C. Walls

YOU�RE, NOT ALONE - DION - WARNER BROS. 1872

The Grateful Dead getting into surf music?? I don�t know, but I do know I started getting off behind this record as soon as I put it on. Sennheiser headphones, wrecker Leb dope & no-sound UHF English comedy movies about �Arabia�, all helped. At the point where this gigantic bloke masquerading as a female oud player hands the bald diplomat a water pipe and the set goes up in smoke, on comes Dion�s �Attraction Works Better Than Promotion�:

To die at the hands of our soldiers

Isn�t exactly what we were looking for.

That �exactly� somehow saves these lines in just the same way details of Dion�s singing save this whole album, not that it needs saving, since the voice floats on a lovely nonspecific instrumental plateau all through, miles (at least) above the ground, & that�s a pleasure. A gracefully unfocused production job gives the whole blend a flow, reminiscent of Heraclitus�s Everything. The orchestration is full, dronal, non-floral. The only flowers in this album are vocal ones. They arrive via the same contemporary nasal bouquet that�s also been, picked over by Elton John. In fact, Dion�s phrasing here sounds uncannily like Elton John�s. Which is strange, since I hate John�s records & love this one. But phrasing ain�t everything, Ma. To ask a (probably) non-musical question, what�s in Dion�s mouth when he sings, besides his tongue? Not that it matters! Because the killer cuts here are �Josie�, which -but no, really I�ve got to tell you about �Sunniland� because that�s pure nourishment music ... gemlike, nonvibrating tones that spread, like orange honey, over large comfortable spaces of acoustic wood. It�s hardly Norwegian, but neither (were) (are) the Beachboys. And they did what they could. Wouldn�t you?

Tom Clark

WHAT ABOUT ME - QUICKSILVER MESSENGER SERVICE - CAPITOL SMAS-630

» This being the fifth album of the Quicksilver Messenger Service, those of us that have listened to them for at least the past two years are beginning to become somewhat impatient at the stillborn creativity that would seem to have been the substance of the previous two albums and a hope for a return to the more fully developed creativity of their first two albums.

The group that plays with such fantastic precision in concert and has occasionally given some substance to the myth of Quicksilver has turned out another album that excels in technical perfection and pristine beauty. But all is not well in the land of beautiful Victorian gothic houses, inhabited by rock and roll supergroups, the self-appointed musical historians of the summer of love.

Unfortunately, those who were hoping for a return to the more substantial ground covered by'the first two albums or better .still, a more advanced handling of similar material, will be sorely dissapointed. On a closer examination the album yields up, instead of definite statement, sly innuendos that lack substance and combined with a music that possesses a broken spirited beauty.

The album is still a powerful musical force; for a new group�s first record it would indeed be a tour-de-force. From a collection of musical talent such as Quicksilver, with a long established reputation such as theirs however, a recording such as this contributes little to a positive image of what they are capable of.

Nicky Hopkins on this composition �Spindrifter� seems almost hesitant at the beginning, of the song, in the phrasing and execution, almost as if he were uncertain as to what he wanted done with it. It finishes strong though, a thoroughly pleasant and undemanding piece of music. .

The title song is rather cliche ridden, in both music and lyrics. What starts out to be a strong statement of beliefs, ends rather muddled, making the listener wonder if the singer knows what he is t-talkin� bout.

From what has come out of this group in the past, we are well aware of what they are capable of. Perhaps it�s time that past laurels be forgotten and some sort of movement be made away from static beauty. Hopefully those of us that still have faith in this incredibly talented group will not have it dashed by the next album.

Art Grupe

EMERSON - LAKE AND PALMER -COTILLION

MCDONALD AND GILES - COTILLION EXTRACTION - GARY WRIGHT - A & M

The great English Super-groupSplinter-group thing trudges on with these three offerings from the peaceful side of the ocean. The only thing that makes keeping up with it all worthwhile is the fact that good music is still being put down in large heaps, although you might sometimes have to do a little digging to find it.

Case in point is the new Emerson, Lake and Palmer album. I must admit that I find this much awaited (by me, at least) offering to be a difficult one to come to terms with. Technically speaking, it is a resounding success. But personally, I�d rather hear musicians than technicians, and some of the music on this album seems to have been put down with little concern for aesthetics or direction. Perhaps this is a somewhat unfair criticism considering my admitted lack of musical education, but like Paul Williams says, people don�t dig music they can�t personally relate to, and in this case, that is going to be most of us. Much of the blame here must be levelled at Keith Emerson, who has used the album as a vehicle to prove himself the Alvin Lee of the keyboard set. Emerson rips off classical and jazz orientated riffs with resounding speed and confidence, and they are, of course, perfect. But they can also be a colossal bore, as witnessed by the first cut, �Barbarian.� Both Emerson and Carl Palrher, the drummer, play with an almost paranoic frenzy here, but the listener quickly finds himself hoping that he will not be faced with an entire album of this kind of controlled madness. He must'first sit through the 12:32 �Take A Pebble� before he gets to the kind of meat he expects, the real rock-flavoured �Knife-Edge�, which: closes out side one and features some real driving organ by Y ou-Know-Who.

But unfortunately, side two marks the instant return to Sir Keith, would-be concert pianist. I suppose it is to be expected really, when one looks back on such items as Rondo and the Karelia Suite from old Nice days, that this is the obvious direction in which Emerson has headed. But I also remember some fine monster rock from the old group, and I expected this album to be more along those lines. • ‡

Besides the previously mentioned �Knife-Edge�, the only other cut that shows the full potential of the group, (this is supposed to be a group, after all), is �Lucky Man�, the last cut. This is a melodic and introspective number featuring some fine vocalizing, and also some creative moog work, (Emerson uses the moog a few times to good advantage on the album). This is probably the best single cut on the album, and although a somewhat down tempo affair, is more what I expected from this prestigious array of talent. Nevertheless, the album is a truthful portrayal of exactly where Emerson is at, which is about half a block from the Concert Hall. Too bad there�s not so mdch money in it, eh Keith?

If that�s where Keith Emerson is at, then just where, you might ask, is Ian McDonald. Well, dear reader, he�s just about everywhere. He�s into jazz, rock, and dream-like rhapsodies. Although the ' title says �McDonald and Giles�, most of the album is McDonald�s.

He wrote most of the material, and is credited with most of the instrumentation and vocals. Mike Giles was merely the drummer, and often, as in �Suite in C� he, might just as Well have been left out anyway. On that number he merely distracts the listener from a firig interplay between flute and bass (credited to Peter Giles).

A great deal of the album displays a dream-like charm, which is gained mostly through imaginative and tasteful ecjio techniques. Match these with creative jazz and soft rock improvisations, and the result is an album which takes on new dimensions with each listening. Naturally, a great deal of King Crimson type sound finds its way onto the album (�Tomorrow�s People� is a good example) but the pair also owe a great deal to the later studio sound of the Beatles, whose influence is quite recognizable throughout the album, and particularly on side one.

In all, though, this album displays a great deal of creativity and originality, and if you�ve been bitching about the lack of same in today�s offerings, then McDonald and Giles deserves your attention. I�m not saying you�ll love it, but you can�t deny its originality.

That brings us to Gary Wright. Of the three albums noted here, Gairy Wright�s Extraction is the only one you will go back to time and time again. Because this, my children, is real live honest-to-Atlee English hard rock. Not arty jazz, not classical, not even very original. But it is hard rock, damn satisfying, the kind you�d expect from well travelled rockers like Wright, Mick Abrahams, Mike Kelly, Trevor Burton and Klaus Vormann. Just looking at where they�ve been-Grease Band, Blodwyn Pig, Spooky Tooth — has got to tell you something about the album. -

The album contains nine good, hard rock tunes (are you getting the picture?) with no gimicks ahd no excessive ego stuff. If you are the kind of person who reads this magazine, then you�re exactly the kind of person the Gary Wright Extraction is playing for.

Fine. So that�s a brief rundown on three albums, each of which deserve to be heard. Anyone of these albums might really do it for you, I don�t know. But do it soon, because you�re getting behind.

Al Niester

TAKE IT TO THE STREETS - ELEPHANTS MEMORY - METROMEDIA

New York City has no readily identifiable musical identity, as, say, San Francisco or the Ann Arbor/Detroit regions. But the Big Apple does have a �music scene� that includes all the trappings of a �music scene� in either of those locations, except for one element — a commoq way of playing music that ties all the local bands together and helps them grow, learn and survive.

When Elephant�s Memory started out, several years back, they were a New York band, wanting to be part of the musical happenings in the city. They did benefits for Student Mobe, they played schools, parks and anywhere else they could to get some exposure, which is harder than you might think in New York. Then they got a female vocalist, and things started looking up, at least on the business end. In other words, they got a recording contract with Buddah Records. Buddah, unfortunately, is not known for the many fine albums they release (Sha Na Na, Biff Rose, the VeeJay rerelease series, Beefheart, Curtis Mayfield & the Impressions, Isley Bros., Flamin� Groovies, etc.) but instead for the jive-shit bubble-gum that they release. So of course, like many of the artists listed above, E.M. got shoved into the garbage heap by all the tastemakers.

Well, that�s all right too because they weren�t so hot back then, being an obnoxious sort of cros^ between Blood, Sweat and Tears and Melanie. They bombed out everywhere they played, and in the record racks as well. They did achieve a small degree of notoriety from the flick, Midnight Cowboy, so Buddah immediately released a second album (called, ironically enough, Midnight Cowboy) that sold well.

Then they weren�t heard of for awhile. They were gone and, unfortunately, forgotten. While they were in hiding, they lost their female vocalist and underwent some heavy changes that were not then readily recognizable.

They resurfaced in early 1970. They once again played benefits and freebies because, once again, they were unknown. A lot of people conscientiously avoided them for a long while, but I was lutkier than most. I had several friends who had seen the band recently and urged me to go see them. Finally they broke down my resistance and I went.

I went out of my mind. I flipped out. Not only are they , one, of the tightest bands, rhythmically, that; I�ve ever seen, their lifestyle and lyrics are together. They played at the Mayday �Free Bobby� rally at Yale last year; where they played at the New York Flop, the Randalls Island rockfest, last July, where the soiind people were instructed by the promoters and their henchmen to fuck around with the sound controls to make them sound bad, which they almost succeeded in doing. (The only reason they played at the Festival, at all, was because of a group of radicals that had taken control of the show and saved it from its nefarious promoters.) But it was the radicals who kept the show" going all weekend and after the Memory�s first set (which they opened by playing a tape from Weatherwoman Bemadine Dohm) the radicals scheduled the band again for the third night of the festival in order to let the crowd hear them with a decent sound system. (For more about the festival, see Creem Vol. 2 No. 16)

In late December, Metromedia, released their new album, Take It To The Streets, but not only did the company not take it to the streets they didn�t take it to a most important rock.radio stations, cultural papers, critics and underground newspapers all around the country, including this one. The record went unnoticed.

I heard it soon after it came out and I�ve made it my busines recently to try and help the group by getting h'old of copies for people who haven�t heard it. Like CREEM. We�re sitting right now in the living room of the CREEM complex on Cass Ave. in Detroit, and while I bop assuredly around the room with a smile on my face (Toby has a portable typewriter — Ed.) Dave Marsh�s tongue is hanging out his left ear in ecstasy, A.J. Weberman (here to be interviewed) ' isn�t analyzing the lyrics because he�s too busy dancing on the sofa and stray freaks from the White Panthers, the Ann Arbor Argus, and from local organizations are falling down the stairs and on the floor, flipped out into the ozone. What, you may ask, is the cause of all this energy release?

It�s simple. Hard driving rhythms and a wind section featuring wailing trombones, and screaming saxes; intense throaty vocals and a whistling lead guitar really make for an exciting muSical experience. The importance of the record (and the group) is more than the music V it�s the combination of musical energy, talent, creative songwriting and solid revolutionary politics. Liberating music and liberation lyrics; Why don�t the CREEM decision makers decide here and now to reprint the lyrics^to �Power�, �Piece Now�, �Tricky Noses� and �She�s Just Naturally Bad�? Of course, that won�t convey the message of �Tricky Noses� or the intensity of the performance, but it might just be an interesting experience. And that won�t inform you at all about the other tracks on the album which are beautiful pieces of music. But it doesn�t really matter because RIGHT NOW you are going to go out and latch onto a copy of this album by ANY MEANS NECESSARY. (And you will enjoy yourself)Right on Elephants Memory!

Toby Mamis

(Toby Mamis is the 17 year old boy wonder of the New York Herald Tribune, which ain�t what you think it isi ~ it�s a high school underground paper. Toby, as evidenced by his review, is also editor-in-chief of the Rdck Facism League. — Ed )

LOONEY TUNES & MERRY MELODIES -VARIOUS ARTISTS - WARNER BROS. 423

First of all I gotta explain that you,can only get this three record set by mailing away for it. If that sounds dumb, well, I tell you, it�s a pretty dumb world. For instance I once saw William B. Williams berating Phil Spector on T.V. Williams was outraged because Spector admitted to putting a hit on one side of a forty-five and a bomb on the other. It never occurred to Williams that, by taking Spector�s admission seriously, he was implicitly recognizing that Spector knew from the good stuff. The more Williams yelled the smugger Spector became. I�m not trying to glorify Phil�s bravado, but rather to press the importance of editing. In this case we win.

Warner Brothers has managed to combine on three long playing records thirty-four of their hottest rock properties, delivered to your front door in three weeks for three dollars. Warner�s is convinced they have just the music we all need and deserve, but considering the droning mish-mash of a.m. and f.m. radio, and the dizzying array at record stores, they are worried that we aren�t being given a decent chance. Several years ago they came up with a' plan to give the fans a proper opportunity for awareness-self-liquidating promotional items-album samplers. Long-playing records with all cuts chosen for enticing preview milage and no sass at a buck-a-disc. Even if you like only one or two tunes it�s still a bargain at twice the price.

In this particular neatly packaged kit with Elmer Fudd on the cover is the chance to check out carefully selected cuts from album by The Beach Boys, Ry Cooder, Fleetwood Mac, Van Morrison, Hard Meat, James Taylor, Van Dyke Parks and Alice Cooper among others. They chose to include Little Richard�s rendition of The Beatles� �I saw Her Standing There� which is the only good cut on The Rill Thing, (Reprise 6406) thus saving you from the burden of -hauling around the album. Thanks to Randy Newman (also featured) who conducted the sound track and Jack Nitzche you get the title song from the movie Performance, (Warner Bros. 2554). Unfortunately for Mick J agger enthusiasts this ^particular cut is an instrumental. The Mothers of Invention are represented by �Directly From My Heart To You� from Weasils Ripped My Flesh, (Bizarre/Reprise 2028) which is especially pleasant. There is also a never before released number by Jimi Hendrix and more, much more.

■ Just send in the handily available coupon along with your check or money Norder and receive a flashy radio show for your recud player. It proved extremely handy for this reviewer who finds ripping the cellophane off the albums Warners keeps churning out by the dozens time consuming and exhaustive.

The Masked Marvel