ROCK A RAMA

ROCK .A. RAMA

This month’s Rock-A-Ramas were written by Richard Riegel, Billy Altman, and Richard C. Walls.

THE STRAND (Island)::When pop groups function as little more than fifth columns for the tired ideals of their old-technology producers, the benefits are decidedly mixed. I suppose the Knack can be seen as Mike Chapman’s revenge on America for not embracing his Sweet, Mud, etc., way back when, but at least the Knack sound good on the radio. Whereas the Strand are pure readymade whimper-pop, thanks in great part to (non-group) lyricist David Batteau, and producer Jeffrey “Toto-goes-‘new wave’ ” Porcaro. Batteau may be the prime offender, as this album positively reeks of hippie-rock lyrical cliches. Anybody who writes one more pop song containing the phrase “dancin’ in the moonlight” I should be exiled to that very satellite, this coming June.

R.R.

SUE SAAD AND THE NEXT (Planet):: In which Richard Perry takes a conservative step into the world of nouveau rock. ( And you thought Beefheart’s Safe As Milk had scared him away forever.) Anyhoo, Sue and her boys re trace the line back from the Shocking Blue to Blue Oyster Cult—hot ’n’ thfoaty female voice backed by demolition derby guitar rudeness. Subject matter leans a little too obviously into teen fantasy, but hey, if it’s good enough to get Pat Benatar and her multi-octaves on the charts, well...Complete the following sentence: “Your lips are makin’me quiver/Your hands are pulling my._There are references here to backseat boogieing, working for the minimum wage, personal hygiene (“Momma always told me to be clean...”), iron;deficiency (“Tired blood runs through my veins”—Mom is always right, ain’t she?), and if all this wasn’t enough to recommend it, “I I Me Me” includes guitar swipes from both “Stairway to the Stars” and “Before the Kiss, A Redcap” in less than thirty seconds of riffing. Hotcha.

B.A.

JO JO ZEP AND THE FALCONSScreaming Targets (Columbia)::These Australians share a great deal with the Sports: same Melbourne origins, same record company down under, same Pete Solley production, same British breakout of their records. Not surprisingly, they also sound decidedly Sports-like (you can hear Graham Parker’s influential tour of Australia between the lines), though Joe “Jo Jo Zep” Camilleri’s reggae/soul obsessions take the place of Steve Cummings’ Ray Daviesemulations, adding another dimension to the Melbourne Sound

R.R.

DONALD BYRD—And 125th Street N.Y.C. (Elektra)::Byrd doesn’t play jazz anymore, we know that, but he still gets a lot of mileage out of the past accomplishments that he now denies— I mean, why is he the leader of this expensive production and not some other jerk who can string together disco cliches and mood-jazz trumpet diddles?‘Cause he spent 20 years playing and refining music with teeth so that now he can gumjob the slick cock of commercialism. Bleech.

R.C.W.

LAZY RACER—Formula II (A&M)::More fallout from Fleetwood Mac, this girl and fine guys might just remind you of Robin Lane & the Chartbusters when their lilting Country pop hits your, reteptive ears. Not my usiial cup of herb tea, of course, but I do give Lazy Racer credit for coming up with some clever lyrical touches, as in their song “Big Bang Theory”, which really is about copulating, just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water of your hot tub. Lotsa tickly keyboards, etc., and the cover photo of that hyper-streamlined 1938 auto would look real nice of your coffee table or embedded in lucite or whatever'.

R.R.

SABU (OceaiVAriola):: Although the long gone and just about completely forgotten Thor (actually, I must admit that I still see his foaming-atthe-mouth guard dogs during drunken stupors every now and then) was not a true son of'Odin, Paul Sabu is, really and truly, the bouncin’ offspring of the elephant boy himself. His solo debut (he’s worked previously as a producer and session player) is billed as “the rock of the 80’s” (what isn’t these days?) in that it is equally divided between rock and disco; Which means one should skip side one, especially “Rockin’ Rollin’ ” (“I’m just a rockin’ rollin’ disco kid”) and dig instead the bongo bongo bongo inanities to be found on side two, wherein Sab shows he can wail from the grapevines as well as any monkeyman of recent yore. John and John (Prine and Hall of course) would be proud. Now if I could only remember where Shenrip Howard played a fake fakir from Brooklyn.

B.A.

JON FADDIS—Good and Plenty (Buddah):: Faddis is always compared to Dizzy Gillespie and the young trumpeter does have the kind of uncompromisingly old-fashion approach that sounds fresh—buf here, in an unabashed stab at a wider market, any freshness is buried under the usual amount of cloying persiflage which this type of project seems to require. Even Chuck Mangione isn’t this dull (but then Mangione isn’t half the musician that Faddis is when Faddis is playing for real...)

R.C.W.

ORIGINAL MIRRORS (Arista)::This album could be one of the real sleepers of 1980: yet another gaggle of English power-popsters (featuring Steve “Enrico Cadillac” Allen, late of Deaf School), a nondescript jacket,, and music that sounds deceptively bland the first spin-anda-half through. But along about the Farfisal “Feel Like a Train”, these blokes’ subversively insistent keyboard & rhythm pulsations suddenly grab your pituitary gland by the neck, and from thervon you gotta hear the whole album over and over. A pop/disco fusion so seemless and addictive even the honk-if-ypu-hate-etc. crowd’ll have to love the Original Mirrors’ sound when it sneaks out of the speakers in their Camaros.

R.R.

FRIENDSHIP (Elektra):: Yet another well produced,/ well performed reminder that fusion music has evolved into reprehensible garbage. Eat it.

R.C.W.

PRIVATE LIGHTNING (A&M)::This group is a semi-updated version of the coed hippieapotheosis of It’s A Beautiful Day; in P.L.’s case, however, the woman plays the violin, and one of the guys handles the vocals, which I suppose is , liberation of a sort. Right off the P.L.’s are in big trouble, as the opener, “Physical Speed”,. lyrically a floor-the-accelerator raver, Is performed real slow & turgid. That ain’t irony, more likely juSt D-U-M-B. “Song of the Kite” descends even further into the pompo-rock murk of pseudo-mysticism and is so obviously a reaction against the punk enlightenments of the past ifew years that it’s almost interesting in its earnest perversity. But ihat’s a perversion I don’t care to indulge, too often. After all, when synthesizers are outlawed, only Rick Wakeman will still buy synthetic.

R.R.

BAIRD HERSEY & THE YEAR OF THE EAR—Have You Heard? (Arista Novus):: Predictably, this doesn’t have the impact of their debut album—it’s just too similar—but Hersey’s combination of big band verities and filthy guitar playing is still a welcome antidote to Maynard Fergusonism. Overwrought, perhaps, but juicy.

R.C.W.

RAY KENNEDY (ARC/Columbia)::This jazzbo was the “K” to Barry Goldberg’s “G” and Mike Bloomfield’s “B” in the ill-conceived KGB supergroup (2 LP’s on MCA) of'a few hemline lengths ago. Like many of the other 70s zeitgeisters who; didn’t hit the jackpot in their own time, Kennedy is all outfitted in new togs and an abbreviated haircut for the still-fluicj ’80s, and Ray’s makeover, in the moody cover photos grants him an aura at least as worldlyweary tragic as Duncan Browne’s. Musically, Kennedy has nothing to offer that we didn’t already reject back in the 70s. Tragically enough, he even serves up one further remake of “Sail On Sailor,” that claim-to-fame ditty he and Brian Wilson cranked out one afternoon while the Big B was undergoing occupational therapy at a secluded Southern California location. Still interested? Okay, you got it—all three Porcaros are on this, too.

R.R.

CURTIS FULLER—All Star Sextets (Savoy) :: Two ’59 dates with a lot of special attractions, namely Lee Morgan, Thad Jones, Benny Golson, Wynton Kelly, McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison, Paul Chambers, and Charlie Persip. Reminiscent of a vintage Blue Note side or a Messenger’s jam without Blakey. Much fun.

R.C.W.