ROCK ·A· RAMA

ROCK ·A· RAMA

THE WOMBLES — Remember You’re a Womble (Columbia):: Q: How can you tell they’re English if they won’t take their costumes off? A: They sound like the Beach Boys. I prefer the Banana Splits, though.

M.J.

WIZZARD — Eddie & the Falcons (United Artist):: Q: What do Roy Wood and Frank Zappa have in common? A: Enough so that you don’t want this album.

M.J.

T. REX — Light of Love (Casablanca):: I wouldn’t be offended if Marc ground out this Gaelic texmex for the rest of his life, but if you’re a typical American and weren’t intrigued at first, you probably hate it by now. This record won’t change your mind.

M.J.

ARMAND SCHAUBROECK — Lots of People Would Like To See Armand Schaubroeck... Dead (Mirror):: If they’d cut out the talking (which is funny once, but) this would be the greatest rock opera ever, especially if your taste runs to circa 1962 epileptic Bob Dylan backed up by the Godz.

M.J.

HACKAMORE BRICK — One Kiss Leads to Another (Kama Sutra):: Hey, I bet Richard Robinson had to come across with lotsa bread in order to get these old Lou Reed sides that Lou made back when he was a pimply high school kid. Some of Lou’s best words ever come across on these cuts and I bet you’ve never even heard any of them. Great lines, like. “After a while we were leaving him behind/ We were singing with the record, our favorite song in mind/ And then my baby, y’know, uh/ Well, she give him the finger..." and, “Well, I was just about to make that sweet potato turn over, whoa-ooo-yah/ But then her poppa hit me with a cabbage, saying ‘Yuh get no older.’” The lyrics on this wonderful long-player put to shame the blind grope attempts at punkoid style that Zappa has ruined his name with of late. No doubt, the greatest coup executed on this album is producer Robinson’s choice of album cover. In an attempt to hide from the purchasing public the fact that this work of art contains the primal Lou Reed, Robinson has hand picked four young NYC hooligans to pose upon fire escape for cover. Now, I paid 57 cents for this at the local Wool worths’ discount bin, so it ain’t new, in fact, I seem to recall a Meltzer review in the Rolling Stone of a few years past. Believe me, we need this record to compensate for all the asinine angloid outcroppings taking place at this very second over your FM dial.

J.W.O.

THE MOVE — The Best of the Move (A&M):: Roy Wood used to be known for wee excellent pop diddles on various facets of being soft wall crazy, and there are lots of obscure shines herein thereon, as well as the first Move album in its entire mid-60 best-in-class Britoproduction: music beyond mere example.

B.S.

JOHNNY GIMBLE &emdas; Fiddlin’ Around (Capitol):: If you have gotten hooked on Bob Wills stuff, this is what the perfect instrumental mode of the selfsame sounds like.

B.S.

RUSH (Mercury):; This set answers the burning question as to when the next Montrose album is coming out, as this is it: same bondage & domination vocals, same fasterthan-the-speed-of-speed guitars, same profoundly throwaway (just-an-excuse-for-moreriffing) lyrics. Also check out the prophetic warning on the back cover: “For best results play at maximum volume.” Deja vu is gonna ereem all over you.

R.R.

KING CRIMSON — Starless and Bible Black (Atlantic):: I had to give Crimson another listen after Fripp’s Eno collab. Side two’s a bunch like the joint effort. Side one has unexpected tendencies toward the Eno solo direction cropping up — Nif.

B.S.

THE YARDBIRDS — Rarities; THE YARDBIRDS — Golden Eggs; THE WHO - Radio London; THE WHO &emash; Who’s Zoo (Trade Mark of Quality):: There is no question that the bootleg is liver than ever, and Trade Mark is one of the class labels.. These four releases exhibit the recent tendency toward gut collector’s rock. The two Yardbirds items contain a total of 32 cuts of varying availability and obscurity. Who’s Zoo has everything from the High Numbers’ single, the Stones cuts, the long version of “Mary Anne with the Shanky Hand,” to a guitar-smashing appearance on the Smothers’ show. One side of Radio London is composed of outtakes from Sell Out, the other side is circa “The Seeker” — not rejects, but studio perfection.

B.S.

THE METERS — Rejuvenation (Reprise):: Anyone concerned with, ahem, “getting down” has to realize that there’s a good deal more shuck than jive down at the wax works these days, at least in terms of any consistent echo. This is the record for seekers after rhythm humjob: consistency and efficiency.

B.S.

GENE VINCENT — The Bop That Just Won’t Stop (1956) (Capitol):: Rock-a-billy was the Daddy-O of rock craziness, and the only true cop-a-feel natural music from the 50s, the definitional basis of the “rock” side of the term rock ’n’ roll. Gene Vincent was one of the prime practitioners and a powerful influence on that insane wonderfulness that continues to Come from the best of the British.

B.S.

HUDSON-FORD — Nickelodeon (A&M);; Lennon voices and Walrus era concepts abound in this album which could be termed pop excellence merely, except for the high sharp edges and the pushes in the right direction.

B.S.

THE CATS — The Love in Your Eyes (Fantasy):: This is a companion for Abba’s dyno Waterloo album: twelve singles perfection gems. B.S.

THE FEMININE COMPLEX — Livin’ Love (Athena):: I rescued this one from a 20 cent bin in respect of its back liner photo, which shows three flowers of Tennessee tartdom decked out in glitter hotpants and black boots, going through some genuinely B.O.C. guitar moves on stage. Sort of a preliterate, punkette Fanny, the Feminine Complex were forced to compromise in the classic manner of many of their brother bands of the time (1969) by letting studio musicians lay down their first LP. But the songs (all originals) rock out like moonshine runners anyway, and Mindy Dalton sings with all of Karen Carpenter’s clarity and precision, plus her own sensual growl.

R.R.

SOUL SURVIVORS — When the Whistle Blows, Anything Goes (Crimson):: The absolute best of all the Young Rascal-imitators, the Soul Survivors had one moment of glory in that fecund fall of ’67, when they rocked the airways with “Expressway (To Your Heart),” a Gamble-Huff composition (best thing they ever did, too) which presaged Black Sabbath in its numbingly Neanderthal intensity. Also includes all the standards any self-respecting buncha Rascal-imitators had to do: “Respect,” “Too Many Fish in the Sea,” and the masters’ own. “Do You Feel It.”

R.R.

LOCOMOTIV GT (ABC):: These guys are purportedly “the first rock group from behind the Iron Curtain,” and their vocals do have appropriately Boris Badenov accents. I can’t help but wonder, though, at the lack of liner photos of the group (I suppose that’s to foil the Secret Police, who’ll be after Locomotiv GT for engaging in this Western decadence when they get back) — that lack and the Jimmy Miller/Andy Johns production in London almost suggest a 1910 Fruitgum Co. readymade. In any case, the muzsika is good and socialist-monolith heavy. Cultural exchange is just a riff away!

R.R.

JOHNNY BRISTOL — Hang On In There Baby (MGM):: Great title song but.. .an imitation of Barry White’s imitation of Isaac Hayes? Pleaaase.

J.A.

ECSTASY, PASSION AND PAIN — (Roulette):: Uneven mixture of second-rate Philly sound (albeit with a little more chops than usual) and third string Gladys Knight ballads with the usual solid beat. Disco freaks may jump on this one, but there’s little else to recommend.

J.A.

CHER — Dark Lady (MCA):: This is the best album Cher’s done since 3614 Jackson Highway, what with the highly danceable “Train Of Thought” and moving “Dixie Girl,” but the vamp is still far from realizing her potential. Interesting: “I Saw A Man And He Danced With His Wife,” a slick, melodic soap opera, is nothing more than a lyrical update of Lesley Gore’s “(Isn’t That the) Look Of Love.”

J.A.

This month’s rockaramas were written by Mark Jenkins, Joshua W. Orange, Buck Sanders, Richard Riegel and Jim Allio.