ROCK.A.RAMA

ROCK.A.RAMA

RECORDS

ART ENSEMBLE OF CHICAGO—Nice Guys (ECM):: The Ensemble continues to alternately pay homage to and extend various forms of black music maintaining their base, of free form improvisation, humor and evocative arrangements. The amount of imagination and emotional commitment displayed, as well as the consistency with which their propensity for risktaking results in cohesive musical statements, makes for superior entertainment. The highlight of this set is Joseph Jarman's "Dreaming Of The Master," cast ip a Miles/Coltrane post-bop mode with an avant-garde centerpiece, and fondly recalling an era of midnight &axes and '"'querulous trumpets. R.C.W.

SUSAN—Falling In Love Again (RCA)::This Beantown quartet shows so many influences that they never establish any sort of foothold. There's Bad Company ("Power"), Raspberries ("A Little Time") and ineyitably Boston themselves (Charles Leland's vocal on "Marlene"). I don't think that Ms. Dietrich, would really approve of having part of her old classic stuck in the middle of this mesfe, though I'd love to see the look on her face when and if a royalty check shows up. B.A.

HAWKLORDS (Charisma)::Seems as though everybody's cashing in on this mechanizedhumanity theme in the wake of Kraftwerk and \ its countless disco-demonic Stateside Krautsymps. The Hawklords (once known efs "Hawkwind," in interstellar-rock days of yore) turn the corner of the 80's on this LP, as their "Micro Man" jumps headlong into the "Macho Man" encounter group. Spacey as she goes, Cap'n, this is a more sedate, more properly Britaccented version of ever-DEVOiutin' Devo, if you don't care for donning that tacky rubber garb.;The Hawklords have definitely got the favored robot moves down cold, & their "25 Years" agrees with this career bureaucrat all the way. R.R.

JACKIE McLEAN WITH THE GREAT JAZZ TRIO—Old Wine In New Bottles (Inner City)::This set isn't a \masterpiece, not even a small one, which is a disappointment considering the people involved (the GJT consists of Hank Jones, piano; Ron Carter, bass; and Tony Williams, drums). But it is an excellent blowing session alternating the feisty up-tempo stuff with McLean's more sensuous than usual ballad playing. The set never flies too high but the holding pattern is mellow. R.C.W.

ANNETTE PEACOCK-X-Dreams (Toma to)::The initial ear-catcher here is "My Mother Never Taught Me How To Cook", with Peacock out-syllabizin' Patti Smith on the subject of growin' up all wrong ("Daddy never taught me to suc-ceed...My brother gave me a head...start ...I'm a woman and my destiny is to create"), but get past that and there's some neat jazz which

This month's Rock-a-ramas were written by Richard C. Walls, Billy Altman'" and Richard Riegel.

relies more on Peacock's ultra cool, breathy vocals than on the lyrics or the music, both of which are a bit bizarre and also quite hypnotic. B.A.

JOE TURNER—Effervescent (Classic Jazz):: Turner, not to be confused with blues singer Big Joe Turner, is a stride pianist and contemporary of Fats Waller, Willie "The Lion" Smith and Art Tatum. On this set, recorded in early 76, he imbues 14 standards with the infectious high spirits of classic Harlem stride. Pu^e and "Simply beautiful. R.C.W.

SEAN DELANEY—Highway (Casablanca):: Delaney, the shadow lurking around the writer credits on most of the Kiss albums, moves into the spotlight here to share with us his deepest feelings on the human experience. Two songs equate being on Earth with being in the circus (let's hear it for profound original thought), one tune glorifies bar life while another deems it depressing and void (this depends on whether 'Sean has picked anybody up before last call), and there are also cliched glimpses of witches and old men. And if that's not enough, there's a version of Mary Wells' "You Beat Me To The Punch" that makes Linda Ronstadt's soul covers look funky by comparison. Of course, this album isn't as bad as Paul Stanley's, but then again what is? B.A.

RED GARLAND TRIO—Equinox (Galaxy):: With a style that has changed little since his stint with Miles in the 50'tS, pianist Garland remains facile but hip. His tastefulness and unrelenting swing result in a funky cool that is nonpareil. The only shortcoming of the album is that due to an effort to be democratic^ the bass and drum solos are too often and too long—by the second

side they begin to sound like filler. Aside from that, it's perfect. f" R.C.W.

WIRELESS—Positively Human, Relatively^ Sane (Mercury)::Australian-Canadian combo pose no new musical equation, although they also manage to dredge up the immortal who's really crazy? philosophical riddle that's been troubling our generation ever since a pre-hippie Ken Kesey dumped One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest on our unsuspecting noggin way back when. So who's really crazy? Wireless, for putting on strait jackets and acting so "cra?y" v they're really "sane," as la role-model Steve Martin and the post-Taupinobotomized Alice Cooper? Wireless, for playing their rock in such a bland and predictably stylistic strait jacket that it deserves to be every bit as commercial as .Martin and Cooper? Or you, the consumer? Wireless are the archetypal faceless rock group, the types who would play **fhe average rock group** on your fave sitcom. No "relative" about it, give me "/oof sanity any day!' R.R.

JUDY COLLINS—Hard Times For Lovers (Elektra):: Judy's unbending Style is a distillation of directness and innocence beautifully caressing the simple pop ballads she favors nowadays. Unfortunately, on the title cut her dulcet and upfrettered tones form a ludicrous counterpoint to the jaunty folk-rock melody. God, I hatle\that song. R.C.W.

GRANATI BROS.—G Force (A&M)::Look at the cover and you think "My Gawd, what hath the Ramones wrought?" But it turns out that these maroons really are brothersand they apparently see themselves as some kinda funky rhythm outfit. Outside of the first track ("What In The World"), everything sounds half-realized and the lyrics! "All I make is peanuts and you still talk 'bout the Ritz/Chicken pot pie ain't made from chickenshit." And dig it, that's what's printed on the lyric sheet and they don't even have the nerve to utter that offensive word on the record itself. Take off those leather jackets, you bums. B.A.

JOHN ABERCROMBIE QUARTET—Arcade (ECM):: In this new setting, guitarist Abercrombie's slithery and spacey guitar is made more palatable by the crisp presence of pianist Richie Beirach—his space-filling and precise statements ^re a perfect ' counterbalance to Abercrombie's approach. Still, this is chamber jazz, colorfully abetting endless ruminations on the listener's part but never extending itself beyond a series of rather modest proposals. R.C.W-

OSMONDS—Steppin' Out (Mercury)::Everybody has grown up by this time in the Osmond househpld and if Donny didn't have a moustache now I don't think I'd be able to separate him from his brethren.'Talk about being down—Maurice Gibb produced this record. B.A.