ROCK 'N' RAMA
ERIC DOLPHY—Dash One (Prestige):: Alternate takes from '60-'61, including two from reed man Dolphy's first date as a leader and being rejects doesn't mean the cuts are sub-par—there's a few spaces where the changes are fumbled or forgotten but these are negligible imperfections since Dolphy's in fine form fluttering, soaring, flinging out that always slightly hysterical dissonance and, at one point, taking a relatively straight ahead boppish blues solo and sounding like a sardonic Cannonball Adderley.
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ROCK 'N' RAMA
This month's Rock-a-ramas were written by Richard C. Walls, Richard Meltzer, Michael Davis, and Billy Altman.
ERIC DOLPHY—Dash One (Prestige):: Alternate takes from '60-'61, including two from reed man Dolphy's first date as a leader and being rejects doesn't mean the cuts are sub-par—there's a few spaces where the changes are fumbled or forgotten but these are negligible imperfections since Dolphy's in fine form fluttering, soaring, flinging out that always slightly hysterical dissonance and, at one point, taking a relatively straight ahead boppish blues solo and sounding like a sardonic Cannonball Adderley. Co-conspirators here include trumpet legend Booker Little, pianists Jaki Byard and Mai Waldron, and drummer Ed Blackwell. Essential wax for wigged-out modems. R.C.W. MI NUT EM EN—We Need The Money (Thermidor 7" EP):: In the annals of conscious rock-roll finitude (y'know, intentional shortness) nobody but nobody holds a candle to these L. A. wizardboys. They're the shortest and the best, and the hottest scientists on the current block at isolating and exploring the essence of noteness, riffness and chord-changeness in any size nutshell. "Futurism Restated" (for inst) delivers the unrelieved tensions of the first 2-3 notes leading into "God Save The Queen" done over and over for nearly (but less than) a minute. Their lyrics meanwhile are concisfe, quirky and either to-the-point ("horseshit in the breeze/felt just like home to me") or poetic-per-se ("the heel's an extension of the foot/the wheel's an extension of the foot"). Their fourth release in case you were wondering (all eminently ownable). R.M.
ART ENSEMBLE OF CHICAGO-Urban Bushmen (ECM):: A few years back, the idea of a major label releasing a double live album by the Art Ensemble of Chicago—generally regarded as the boldest, least compromising black music group of the last 15 years—would have been ludicrous, but here one is, so I guess progress has been made. And these five guys are laying it all out—formidable percussion workouts, horn solos emphasizing sound and emotion instead of notes and scales, and an intuitive flow between tunes that only comes from playing together for years. There's a lot here to digest, but for state-of-the-art improvisational music, 1 can't think of a better place to start. M.D.
ROSCOE MITCHELL AND THE SOUND ENSEMBLE— Snurdy McGurdy And Her Dancin' Shoes (Nessa):: The Art Ensemble of Chicago's grand conceptual wizard Steps out, as is his wont, to do some eclectic puttering with his Sound Ensemble, essaying chamberish sound juxtapositions, energy improvs, blues, a march (courtesy of Anthony Braxton), and a little funk, moodswinging from fiercely ironic to deadly serious with convincing skillfulness. Convinced me, anyway. R.C.W.
CHICAGO 16 (Warner Bros.):: There really is one good song on this album. Unfortunately, it's not the single, "Hard To Say I'm Sorry," which sounds like "If You Leave Me Now," "Baby, What A Big Surprise," "Just You And Me," and about 12 other Chicago songs we've all grown to hum and hate. No, the hot one is "Chains," a semi-tough un-horny song written by Ian Thomas who, it turns out, was not just a figment of Bob and Doug McKenzie's suds-soaked imagination. Everything else on the record is the usual Chicago air balls from the free throw line; now that they've added no-longer-a-Son Bill Champlin to the fold, maybe they'll metamorphose into Illinois Speed Press before their twentieth birthday. Sleeve credits of the year— "Lyrical assistance on 'What Can I Say' by Dave Richardson." No songwriting royalties, mind you. But a nice thank you note is in the mail.
B.A.
CHRISTIAN DEATH-Only Theatre Of Pain (Frontier):: Christian Death may not be the only L.A. punk band looking beyond the hardcore horizon and finding only Halloween horror but they've taken it farther than the others. Lead vocalist Rozz sounds like Richard Butler with intense Satan/blood fixations; that he looks like Tiny Tim's mom doesn't help much. But the band streams and stings in a postBanshees manner as guitarist Rikk Agnew is developing into quite a psychedelic wonderboy. Plus they may already be coming to terms with the limitations of their approach—how far can you go after staging a crucifixion at the Whisky? So the moral of this story could be that after Christian Death comes...hope? M.D.
GLENN FREY-No Fun Aloud (Asylum):: Don't know who told Frey that he could sing soul music; mabe he always secretly slow burned while Henley got to do all the funky lead vocals for the Eaglets. f But Glenn would apparently rather do bad soul than passable country ballads, and the result is nothing more than some awfully wimped out and tentative r 'n' b, some blatantly horrendous rock (didn't think anyone could ever botch "Sea Cruise," and "Partytown," with background belches by everyone from Irv Azoff to John McEnroe, should, if nothing else, get Frey a seat at Forest Hills for the rest of his natural days), and a single ("I Found Somebody") that appropriates everything imaginable from the Stones' "Tumblin' Dice" except all the guts. Never say never to notions of a reunion, Glenn. Someday you might need it. Bad. B.A.
FATHERS AND SONS (Columbia); CHICO FREEMAN—Destiny's Dance (Contemporary):: Matching up the complementary talents of trumpet whiz Wynton Marsalis and multireed player Chico Freeman was a wise decision of someone's part; both are relatively young virtuosos who combine a firm grasp of jazz history with an exploratory attitude. They don't actually play together on Fathers And Sons, though. Instead, each shares a side with his "local legend" father: Chico with Von Freeman of Chicago, Wynton with pianist Ellis Marsalis of New Orleans, plus Wynton's saxplaying brother, Branford. Things turn out well for all: the fathers show off how they've kept up to date and the kids display their knowledge of tradition. Sparks fly when Wynton and Branford improvise together but fruitful friction also takes place when Wynton and Chico inspire each other on Destiny's Dance. Their intertwining lines on tunes like "Crossing The Sudan" and "C&M" offer convincing evidence that they can thrive inexotic territory as well as they do in straight ahead settings. M.D.
