CD Odyssey Disc 482: Gogol Bordello

Do you ever find yourself thinking from time to time about some old friend you used to spend a lot of time with many years ago, but lost touch with and hardly see any more?  Trust me, this happens more and more the older you get.  You’re always thinking of this person and how you should give them a call and say hello but you never quite do and then – out of the blue – you find out that they died a month ago and you didn’t even know.  Well that just happened to me.

Ferris Bueller famously said “life moves pretty fast.  If you don’t stop and look around once in a while you could miss it.”  Well it’s true, and it’s not always funny.

Since regret would be wasted, and it is well past time for grand gestures, I’ll have to settle for a small and obscure one and simply say, “Go 49ers.”

Disc 482 is…Trans-Continental Hustle

Artist: Gogol Bordello

Year of Release: 2010

What’s up with the Cover?  Front-man and Gogol Bordello mastermind Eugene Hutz leans against a post.  Considering how poorly dressed, ungroomed and generally unkempt he looks, he’s got a surprisingly sexy vibe.  My wife thinks he’s quite a dish, in what I would characterize as a “You’re very forward and I’m drunk enough to like it” kind of way and I can totally see her point.

How I Came To Know It:  Introduced to me via a very generous birthday gift of this album and two others from our friends Sherylyn and Joel.  The first two were Canadian acts Mother Mother (through their album “O My Heart” reviewed back at Disc 167) and the second was Dan Mangan (through his “Nice Nice, Very Nice” album, still un-reviewed).  I’ve liked every artist enough to buy more of their work, which is a pretty nice average, but Gogol Bordello has been the best of all.

How It Stacks Up:  I have two Gogol Bordello albums; this one and an earlier effort from 2005 called “Gypsy Punks:  Underdog World Strike.”  Of the two, “Trans-Continental Hustle” is my clear favourite.

Rating:  4 stars

I could’ve reviewed this album last night but damn it, I needed the energy of Gogol Bordello’s gypsy punk for one more day.

Gypsy punk is a hard thing to wrap your head around on its own, but it helps to imagine if the Pogues were Roma from the Ukraine, instead of Irishmen in London: different local folk music of course but the same global appeal of revolutionary punk music.

The energy that Gogol Bordello delivers is exceptional, and the band is well known for its crazy stage presence.  Do yourself a favour and Youtube some of their live performances and see for yourself.  The challenge is to take that incredible energy from a live show and capture it in studio recordings; no easy task.

Enter producer-mastermind Rick Rubin, who keeps the cuts clean (rather than the sloppy stylings that regular punk sometimes slips into) while losing none of the visceral energy Gogol Bordello is famous for.

The music of the album finds its foundation in eastern European gypsy music.  They play it so well it makes me want to go out and find some of the traditional stuff, which has so many connections with the Celtic music of the British Isles that I love. (Loreena McKennitt has been exploring these links for years, by the way).  Gogol Bordello employ energetic guitar and violin, accordion and boisterous singing in unison (harmonies would just seem fake on these songs).

Infused into this are rock and punk elements that energize the whole thing and update it to a twenty-first century sound (with Rubin’s guiding hand, of course).  On my earlier album, “Gypsy Punks,” Gogol Bordello had all the ingredients as well, but on “Trans-Continental Hustle” they are so much tighter and faster.

While “Trans-Continental Hustle” is mostly about energy, the lyrics are surprisingly thoughtful, dealing with the frustration of immigration into the first world like these lines from “Immigraniada (We Comin’ Rougher)”:

“Frozen eyes, sweaty back

My family’s sleeping on a railroad track

All my life I pack/unpack

But man I got to earn this buck

I gotta pay representation

To be accepted in a nation

Where after efforts of a hero

Welcome – start again from zero.”

Other songs have references as disparate as Charlie Chaplin and Kafka, and use them appropriately (which is particularly rare when it comes to Kafka).  On “Uma Menina” he glumly observes “As if them birds are free/From the sidewalks of the sky.”  Combined with the power of the music, you are left with the sense that Hutz is a very insightful and intelligent guy, but that he won’t let that fact blunt genuine anger when he feels it is warranted.

Musically the album is pretty straight forward with basic riffs and chords, but just enough brilliant picking to demonstrate these guys know what they are doing, and can switch gears whenever they like.

The songs also tend to have a natural build in them.  “Immigraniada” starts with a groovy bass riff, and slowly builds in intensity and tempo.  This is even more noticeable on the brilliant “When Universes Collide” which starts with just a guitar gently strumming and (I think) an accordion, the song slowly builds into its terrible vision of civil strife reinforced with unison singing, drums and a healthy dollop of volume.  While the song is dark and menacing in subject, Gogol Bordello always manages to infuse their punk fatalism with a triumphant overtone.  It doesn’t detract from the heavy subjects, but it gives you hope that the human spirit can rise above despite the steepest of odds.

In fact, there is very little bad to say about this great record, and it comes close to five stars.  There aren’t any bad tracks, and there are more than a few exceptional ones but while it fills me with an enthusiasm for life, it falls just short of perfection.  Hey, I’m a hard marker, so even though it comes in at four stars only, don’t be bashful in going out and getting this record.  You won’t be disappointed.

Best tracks:  My Companjera, Rebellious Love, Immigraniada (We Comin’ Rougher), When Universes Collide, Uma Menina

CD Odyssey Disc 481: Soundgarden

Every year this is a weird weekend for me.  The football season isn’t quite over yet, but there is no football on TV as we wait an extra week for the Super Bowl.  No, the Pro Bowl does not count.  They should just turn it into a skills competition if no one is going to hit anyone out there.

This weekend the void created by a lack of football was more easily filled than usual, with my guitar finally arriving!  I haven’t had a single lesson yet, but I already love having it.  After I got it home I went online to learn how to read chord charts (hopefully correctly), and then spent the afternoon trying them out, with varying degrees of success.  Stringing a whole series of such finger acrobatics together seems undoable right now, but hopefully that’ll come after a lot of practice.

Anyway, on to a band that mastered such guitar basics long ago.

Disc 481 is…Superunknown

Artist: Soundgarden

Year of Release: 1994

What’s up with the Cover?  “The Scream” minus any artistic merit.  This cover looks like an out of focus demented elf having a tantrum.  Likely intended to be visceral it comes off looking lame.

How I Came To Know It:  I’d known Soundgarden for many years, so this was just me buying another one of their albums.  I delayed for a while because I found the radio single “Black Hole Sun” annoying, but eventually I dove in.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Soundgarden albums.  For all of its minor faults, I’d still put “Superunknown” second out of those five, with only “Badmotorfinger” (reviewed back at Disc 283) beating it out.

Rating:  4 stars

While many alternative music lovers had been enjoying Soundgarden since the late eighties, it was “Superunknown” that introduced the band to the masses.  It made for a pretty good first impression.

It helps that “Superunknown” has far and away the best production value of any of their albums.  Earlier records sounded muddy and muted, but “Superunknown” is crisp and loud with good sound separation and arrangements that for the most part avoid going overboard.

All of this lets the band’s assets shine through.  Cornell is a rock-god when it comes to vocals, and few can match his range and intensity, Thayil’s guitar is a brilliant combination of riffs that are thick and heavy like a latter-day Tony Iommi, but with a little bit of funk cleverly mixed in. I understand a lot is said about how the band changed when bassist Hiro Yamamoto was replaced for the previous record, but I actually prefer Ben Shepherd, who delivers some great work on “Superunknown.”

Song-wise, there are some classics on this album.  “Spoonman” is one of my favourite rock songs of all time, and one that I’m determined to re-imagine acoustically as soon as I’ve got a sufficient handle on guitar playing (i.e. – a long time from now).  With that forward-leaning drum beat simulating spoon playing (later joined by actual spoon playing), and one of Thayil’s greatest riffs going, it doesn’t matter that this song may be about little more than how much fun it is to watch a master spoon player have at it.

My MP3 player only holds about 400 songs and because of the CD Odyssey turnover is high, but “Spoonman” just seems to stick around year after year because it is just so damned catchy.

“My Wave” appeals to me for the same reason.  The song is filled with energy and driving guitar, which has you climbing on the band’s wave, which is ironic because the lyrics advise you to keep off their wave.  They also tell the listener not to “piss on their gate” which had me wondering – who does that?  Anyway, back to the song which has a weird outro that makes it about 45 seconds too long.

This is a microcosm of a problem I have with the whole album, which is just a bit too long.  Not just fifteen songs, which is a lot, but over 70 minutes of music.  “Like Suicide” would be a good song at four minutes, but it is an annoying one when it goes on for seven.

The previously maligned “Black Hole Sun” is over five minutes, which for me was five minutes too long.  With the exception of a moderately catchy chorus, I could never figure out why this song was such a huge hit.  Likely it was nothing more than people wanting to like the band, and this song being a lot ‘lighter’ and radio friendly than most of their stuff.  I find it plodding and pointless, and I think taking it and two or three other lesser tracks off the record would push the album as a whole almost to perfection.

This is because even the deep cuts on “Superunknown” are awesome, like the apocalyptic “4^th of July” grinding out its misery as it compares some sort of man-made disaster to the fireworks on America’s birthday.  Yikes.  This song would pair nicely with Martina McBride’s “Independence Day” as part of a ‘songs that take the fun right out of the holidays’ set.  And for those of you wondering, ‘did this guy just compare Soundgarden to Martina McBride?’ the answer is damn straight, I did.  Get out there and broaden your musical horizons.

Back to Superunknown, which despite being too long, and mostly famous for one of its weaker songs, is still a very strong record overall.  As much as I personally prefer Badmotorfinger, if I were trying to get someone interested in Soundgarden, I would probably go with “Superunknown” as more accessible, and still excellent option.

Best tracks:  My Wave, Fell on Black Days, Superunknown, Spoonman, Fresh Tendrils, 4^th of July

Me with my new guitar.  It may be an acoustic, but I bought a stud covered guitar strap because I'm a little rock and roll as well.

CD Odyssey Disc 480: Public Enemy

The Odyssey rolls on, approaching 500 reviews!  What will I do when I get there, dear readers?  Keep on goin’, I suppose...

Disc 480 is…Fear of a Black Planet

Artist: Public Enemy

Year of Release: 1990

What’s up with the Cover?  The imminent collision of planets!  Although the writing style would make you logically think of Star Wars, this cover reminds me of a movie I recently saw; Lars Von Trier’s “Melancholia.”  “Melancholia” is a movie about how a group of characters react to the very real possibility that a large planet may crash into the earth…or may just miss us; scientists aren’t telling.

In this case, the collision planet is apparently the Public Enemy planet, complete with massive logo.  Underneath, stock ticker style, you are reminded that this album is not in fact about celestial collisions but is instead “The counterattack on world supremacy.”  As headlines go, that one needs work.

How I Came To Know It:  One of my friends in university was a guy named Jeff, who was from Toronto, who I have sadly lost contact with.  He tried to get me to listen to both this and Ice T, but I had little interest in either at the time (I was new to my folk music phase).  A few years later when my roommate Greg also had this album I gave it a chance and liked it a bit more, and eventually I liked it enough to buy it for myself.  So I guess to summarize how I came to know it?  Gradually.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Public Enemy albums.  I have to put this one last of those three, despite its important place in music history.

Rating:  4 stars

“Fear of a Black Planet is the artistic endpoint for the heady days before artists had to pay for samples, and represents the best and worst of that period.

There are so many samples on this record, music, dialogue, various sounds – you name it.  Like the most skillful conductor, Public Enemy pulls together this disparate soup into exceptionally catchy musical arrangements.  Despite it being vilified in the day by the ignorant (including me at the time), this takes an incredible skill and an unflinching artistic vision.  It is hard to pack this much stuff into a song and not end up with a hot mess.

At the same time, I can’t help but find the album a bit busy for my personal tastes.  It may be done brilliantly but at the end of the day there is still just too much going on for me.  A classic example is on “Burn Hollywood Burn” which in addition to multiple music samples, has a recurring whistle sound.  The sound is very evocative of a traffic cop, and in the context of the song you can picture a cop blowing his whistle as he diverts traffic away from arson.  In this case the arson is in the form of Public Enemy’s rhymes against Hollywood’s racial stereotypes.  I can’t deny that it works but I find the whistle, clever as it is, prevents me from having a deeper emotional connection with the song.  Despite that, this is one of my favourite songs, because I simply can’t deny Chuck D’s amazing rap action and the old school beats the band lays down.

Strangely, I find the saturation of sound less frustrating on the instrumental tracks, and “Contract on the World Love Jam” and “Leave This Off Your Fuckin’ Charts” are two of my favourite songs, despite their insatiable appetite for sampling.

Lyrically, Public Enemy has a well-deserved reputation for taking on anything and everything, and “Fear of a Black Planet” explores every awkward element of race relations in America in unflinching fashion.  Gone are the days of merely rapping about how well you can rap, and yet they also reject the equally two dimensional topics of drugs and murder that would later grow into gangsta rap.

The songs tackle topics like interracial relationships, black stereotypes in entertainment, and the double standard of 911 response in bad neighbourhoods (on the Flavor Flav classic, “911 is a Joke”).  They end the record giving a musical middle finger to Elvis Presley on “Fight the Power.”  When they aren’t confronting a tough topic, they are deconstructing the way they are perceived by the public and the media reacting to them.  Ordinarily I would find this post-modern rehash annoying, but Public Enemy are so good at it I can’t fault them.  Sadly, “Fear of a Black Planet” doesn’t have a standout on this topic like “Don’t Believe the Hype” off their previous album.

In fact, for all my respect for “Fear of a Black Planet,” I find I prefer their previous two albums, “It Takes a Nation of Millions” and “Yo! Bum Rush the Show.”  A big part of this is my aforementioned preference for the simpler arrangements and lower sample content where the band’s natural brilliance shines through a bit better.

Regrettably, for all its innovation, “Fear of a Black Planet” suffers from the all-too-common recording sing of not knowing when to say when.  The album is bloated at twenty tracks, and that bloating gives it a directionless quality that makes it a lot less memorable.  I would have preferred fourteen tight tracks that hit you hard, and don’t give you any filler time to catch your breath.

In many ways, “Fear of a Black Planet” reminds me of Led Zeppelin’s first album (reviewed way back at Disc 27). On the one hand I recognize its creative brilliance, but on the other I find it doesn’t connect to me as strongly as a lot of other contemporary rap artists, or even PE’s own earlier records.  Like Zeppelin, it is a five star album for influence, musicianship and production, but a three star album in terms of how I react to it.  And so like that album, I split the difference and rated it at four.

Best tracks:  Contract on the World Love Jam, Brother’s Gonna Work It Out, 911 is a Joke, Burn Hollywood Burn, Revolutionary Generation, Leave This Off Your Fuckin’ Charts, Fight the Power

CD Odyssey Disc 479: Soundtrack

This next review represents the last of the soundtracks in my collection. As the sidebar rules indicate, I don’t review musical scores.  I’ve got another thirteen of those, but there’s no way I’m sitting through three full albums of Lord of the Rings mood music.  I’m not even sure why I bought three albums of the stuff.

With the end of the journey, I can now definitively count 26 non-score soundtracks in my collection, although I remain on the lookout to add a 27^th (the “Bad Channels” soundtrack, because it has a couple of Blue Oyster Cult songs).  When I get that, I’ll insert it in the list, but for now let’s call this part of the journey over.

Soundtracks are a weird thing, and the more music I buy, the less they interest me, but that’s a fairly hollow claim when I have twenty-six of the frickin’ things.  Anyway, here we go.

Disc 479 is…The Warriors

Artist: Various Artists

Year of Release: 1979

What’s up with the Cover?  The usual approach of putting the movie poster on the soundtrack applies again.  The various gangs are all depicted, and if you’re a fan of the film you could probably spend a delightful time identifying each group.  I am not a sufficiently large fan of the film, and so don’t care who any of these folks are.

How I Came To Know It:  I remember the movie well from my childhood, including remembering liking it, but the soundtrack was a recent gift from Sheila, who has a soft spot for these tunes and the movie.

How It Stacks Up:  A-ha!  I know this, having just gone through all the soundtracks in preparation for the wrap-up review.  I’ve slotted “The Warriors” in the bottom third, 19 out of a total of 26.  Also, it is tradition here to make the definitive list of how they all stack up against each other.  There’s been some minor adjustments along the way (most notably on further review “The Harder They Come” knocks off “Saturday Night Fever” for top spot) but for the most part I’ve honoured my initial take on the albums.

This is a pretty long list, so unlike previous summaries, I won’t link to every review.  If you want to see them, just click the “soundtracks” tab under “Links by Artist” to the right, and you’ll see them all in one spot.

1.  The Harder They Come: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 371)
2. Saturday Night Fever: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 392)
3. Hedwig and the Angry Inch: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 225).
4. The Matrix:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 291)
5. Magnolia:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 181)
6. Crooklyn:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 75)
7. Swingers:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 12)
8. Into the Wild:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 260)
9. Pulp Fiction:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 102)
10. Elizabethtown:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 33)
11. Highway 61:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 230)
12. O Brother Where Art Thou:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 386)
13. Buffy The Vampire Slayer:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 216)
14. Reservoir Dogs:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 116)
15. Jackie Brown:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 30)
16. Transamerica:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 402)
17. Les Miserables:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 111)
18. Big Night:  2 stars (reviewed at Disc 215)
19. The Warriors:  2 stars (reviewed right here)
20. James Bond:  2 stars (reviewed at Disc 103)
21. About a Boy:  2 stars (reviewed at Disc 252)
22. Chess:  2 stars (reviewed at Disc 156)
23. Honeymoon in Vegas:  2 stars (reviewed at Disc 17 and then sold)
24. Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat:  1 star (reviewed at Disc 284)
25. Moulin Rouge:  1 star (reviewed at Disc 151)
26. Natural Born Killers:  0 stars (reviewed at Disc 302)

Rating:  2 stars

“Can You Dig It?”  Such are the memorable one-liners from the movie, “The Warriors,” a cult classic for many impressionable youths of my generation.  This was a movie about rebellion, living life dangerously and daring to wear a vest without a shirt.

The movie has not aged well for me.  I liked it when I first saw it, but each time I see it again, I like it less.  The whole, “they killed Cyrus!” thing just seems too contrived to generate the various chase and fight scenes that follow and the Warriors themselves are less a gang than a young man’s social club.  They just aren’t edgy and dangerous like they were when I was nine.  Give me Scorsese’s “Gangs of New York” instead.

But what about the music?  Can you dig that?  The answer is an unequivocal…kind of.

The soundtrack is an interesting mix of contemporary (for 1979) pop, rock and disco, with a lot more disco than I remember on my last listen.

The album begins with a synthesizer driven instrumental unimaginatively titled “Theme From ‘The Warriors’” and there are two more similar tracks later on the album, “The Fight” and “Baseball Furies Chase” (everyone loves the Baseball Furies – the one thing I still look forward to when watching the movie).  The songs are reminiscent of later Alan Parson’s Project (think “Sirius” but not as good).   They aren’t terribly memorable, but they are carefully sprinkled throughout the soundtrack to add a good energy.

There are two standouts on the record.  The first is the soul-infused “Nowhere to Run” which is a brilliant vocal performance by Arnold McCuller who – when I looked him up – turns out to still be touring!  In fact, we saw him live earlier in the year touring with Lyle Lovett as one of his singers – I even gave him a shout out in my review of the concert back at Disc 418.  It’s a small world after all, musically speaking.

The other standout is Joe Walsh’s “In the City.” This is a true song of 1979 in that it is infused with stadium rock and guitar riff, and enriched with a little piano, background cooing and fuzzy production.  These added touches would drown future tracks a few years later when lathered on too thick, but here it is just the right touch of that stuff – OK, maybe just a bit too much piano near the end, Joe.

My guilty pleasure on this album is the six minute plus disco groove, “Echoes in the Mind” by Mandrill.  It is a little bit Floaters in “Float On” and a lot Kool & the Gang in “Open Sesame.”  It is schlocky, but damn if that funky guitar riff doesn’t make me want to put on a pair of white loafers and go show off my best Travolta moves for the local kids!

…

OK, that would be a bad idea, but you get the point; it is a fun song.

Unfortunately, the album also has a lot of novelty-type songs.  Genya Ravan comes off as a poor imitation of Donna Summer on “Love is a Fire” and John Vastano’s “You’re Movin’ Too Slow” felt out of place; a hot mess where in places the harmonica, the piano and the guitar seemed to each be playing different songs.

This record was better than I expected it to be, but the synth tracks are simply OK, and the strong tracks aren’t strong enough to elevate it on their own.  That said, it is better than the movie.  It will definitely come out to play-ee-ay on my CD player from time to time over the years to come.

Best tracks:  Nowhere to Hide, Echoes in My Mind, In the City

CD Odyssey Disc 478: Harry Connick Jr

I got up early today to watch the NFL Conference Championship Games (two games often better than the actual Superbowl) only to find that the Soulless TV Execs had, as usual bumped the start times back two hours.  I guess the ridiculous amount of revenue the NFL already generates for TV wasn’t enough, and they needed just a little bit more.

On the plus side, it gives me time to write this next music review.  The Odyssey isn’t going to complete itself, my friends. 

Disc 478 is…We Are In Love

Artist: Harry Connick Jr.

Year of Release: 1990

What’s up with the Cover?  A very young Harry Connick, Jr. is the embodiment of jazzy coolness.  While the early nineties were not kind to the cut of men’s suits, Harry manages to make this formless wedge work for him.  Such is star power.

How I Came To Know It:  Like a lot of people I think Harry Connick Jr. came on my radar after I saw the movie “When Harry Met Sally,” which featured him singing some jazz standards.  This record came out after that, and after really liking the first couple of singles off of it, I decided to take the plunge into an area of music I usually pass by.  I bought it on tape, of all things, but many years later I decided to upgrade to CD because surely that format will never become obsolete.

How It Stacks Up:  Apparently Harry Connick Jr. has something in the neighbourhood of twenty albums (including two he recorded at ages 10 and 11) but “We Are In Love” is the only one I have.  Consequently, it can’t stack up.  Them’s the rules, folks.

Rating:  4 stars

In 1990, Harry Connick Jr. was like the second coming of Frank Sinatra, only breezier.  For a brief time, he reinvigorated mainstream North America with a love for that jazz/easy listening crossover that Sinatra had delivered so well a couple of decades earlier.

Listening to “We Are In Love” it is easy to see why Connick was so successful.  His voice is a once-in-a-generation talent, and even on the most difficult of songs he always sounds relaxed and easygoing as he carries you – not unlike Sinatra – sometimes subtly in front of the beat and sometimes just behind it, and always exactly where it is called for.  It makes a musical style (jazz) that is about precision and infuses it with a human quality that engages the ordinary, uneducated listener (me).

The other performers on the record are top notch as well, including the legendary Branford Marsalis, who I enjoyed a lot more here than when I reviewed Sting’s “Dream of the Blue Turtles” and “Nothing Like the Sun.” Marsalis is always a great player, but this genre suits him better to my mind.

All the musicianship is excellent, and while it doesn’t break new ground, Connick leaves enough space for the other players to show off their talents and have a few short runs here and there – the best of these is on “It’s Alright With Me” with every player getting their turn to noodle just a little.  I once saw an interview where Connick admitted that most people come to his show for the easy listening, but that he always tried to slip a little jazz in on them when they weren’t looking.  I love this notion, which I think can apply to all manner of endeavor – artistic or otherwise.

The upbeat tracks on his record had me snapping my fingers and doing a little shuffle foot at red lights on more than one occasion.  This, coupled with my giant headphones made me look like even more of a weirdo, but it seemed a crime not to dance, if only a little.

“We Are In Love” and “Recipe For Love” are up-tempo, up-beat songs that sound like jazz standards that have been around for fifty years.  In fact, Connick wrote them both, along with a total of eight of the album’s twelve tracks.  Mainstream jazz music and folk music both share an appreciation for traditional songs, and it is almost expected that an album should have a few covers.  On a bad jazz or folk album, these covers are the only good songs, but on a good one, they just blend in with the excellence of the new content.

This is the case on “We Are In Love,” and despite taking on Cole Porter’s “It’s Alright With Me” and then matching Sinatra’s brilliance on “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square,” (with an assist from Marsalis) I always find myself more interested in the new songs.

Connick is a natural songwriter, both musically and lyrically.  He does slow-and-somber and upbeat-and-playful with equal grace.  His playful imagery on “Forever For Now” reassures you that there is nothing to be afraid of in love, all that’s needed is a carefree willingness to let it happen :

“By the ticket counter for love in spring

I’ll be standing there with Cupid

And he can aim that thing.”

And when he’s singing about that same love lost on “Only ‘Cause I Don’t Have You” the lyrics evoke the depressing reality of a party that’s over:

“Turn off the music

Take down the signs

Pick up the boxes

Put away the wine

No toast for the future

No reward for the find.”

Because of the proximity of the references to boxes and wine, this section always inadvertently makes me think of cheap wine that comes in boxes.  You know the kind – usually found at low-end backyard summer parties.  Before those boxes are tossed, there is the dreaded ‘bag squeeze’ ritual.  That’s when you take the wine bag out of the box, and squeeze the living hell out of it to get the last of whatever Chardonnay remains into whatever plastic cup on the table that still looks clean enough to risk putting your lips on. 

By that point you probably have a headache from all the sun, but you’ve stuck around until there’s only a few people left and now there’s nothing for it but to help the host clean up the potato salad before it goes off, and then head inside and help with the dishes.  If that’s not like waking up on the wrong side of a failed relationship, I don’t know what is.

When I first got this album, it was just the upbeat stuff that I enjoyed, and I would sometimes skip the slower tracks (no mean feat on tape).  On this listen I enjoyed the mix and I wouldn’t have skipped a track even if the CD Odyssey didn’t forbid it (which it does – a full listen, monkey!).  If anything I appreciate this record more now than ever.  It has aged like a fine wine; hopefully not one that came out of a box.

Best tracks:  We Are In Love, Only ‘Cause I Don’t Have You, Recipe For Love, Forever For Now, I’ve Got a Great Idea

CD Odyssey Disc 477: Counting Crows

After a hard day at the office, Sheila and I got in a late workout at the gym.  Working out doesn’t solve your problems, but it does release endorphins and helps you handle stress.  It is a remarkable thing and it doesn’t just last for the few hours after the workout, it lasts for days to follow.

Before the workout, Sheila and I both worked late and walked home together.  As an added side benefit, since I was walking with someone else I couldn’t give this next album a second listen. 

Disc 477 is…Recovering the Satellites

Artist: Counting Crows

Year of Release: 1996

What’s up with the Cover?  I think it is a shooting star, made out of strung up lights.  Likely it is some commentary on the ephemeral and false nature of fame; fitting for some guys who didn’t experience fame for very long.

How I Came To Know It:  I’m told by lovely wife that she only had four CDs when I met, and that I’m overusing the “Sheila had this when we met” comment.  This is definitely Sheila’s disc, but I’m guessing she bought it at some point after we met.

How It Stacks Up:  When I reviewed “Hard Candy” back at Disc 331 I suggested our three Counting Crows albums were all about equal.  I was wrong, because “Recovering the Satellites” is far inferior to “Hard Candy” and – I sincerely hope – the weakest of all three albums.

Rating:  2 stars

What a lot of pointless bitching and moaning.  That’s the summary review for Counting Crow’s sophomore effort, “Recovering the Satellites.” Listening to this album made me upset all over again at all the people who made “Mr. Jones” a hit and encouraged them to make a second record.

For a band that was coming off a highly successful debut (commercially, at least) you’d think Adam Duritz and the boys would be a little bit happier about their lot in life.  But no, most of the songs on “Recovering the Satellites” drag on like dirges – overwrought, overproduced dirges.

Duritz’s voice is powerful and capable of carrying a lot of emotional content, but when that content is limited to self-absorbed whining this actually makes it worse, not better.  Lyrically, this record just didn’t engage me, but when it did engage me it mostly just irritated me.  Here’s just a few samples.  From the opening track, “Catapult”:

“What a big baby – won’t somebody save me please

You won’t find nobody home.”

From “Daylight Fading”:

“Spend my nights in self-defense

Cry about my innocence”

And my personal anti-favourite, from “Goodnight Elisabeth”:

“If you wrap yourself in daffodils

I will wrap myself in pain.”

I think you get the idea.  This is maudlin narcissism that is supposed to evoke a raw and sensitive side, but comes off as empty bathos instead.

Musically the album is equally overdone.  The production has a lot of superfluous sound that I expect was designed to underscore the emotional content, but instead it makes the songs busy.  Too much is going on at the same time, and even though the band plays tightly, there is just too much sound in too little space.  When it does strip down, the melodies just aren’t that memorable.

Finally, at fourteen songs, many of which are in excess of five minutes the album is bloated and had me glancing at my watch, convinced the hands had stopped moving and I would be trapped on this review for all time.

Luckily right near the end of the record, at Track 12, things final begin to turn around, with the pretty love song “Mercury.”  This song finally lightens up the album after all the sobbery that precedes it.  The love interest in “Mercury” is like the element she’s named after; quick to shift direction and hard to pin down, but the affection that Duritz expressed for her in both lyrics and music are honest and interesting.  Also the production is stripped down, which lets the pretty tune stand out on its own without a lot of mud in the background.  Even Duritz’s voice loses its whine and shows a nice restrained power.

Following “Mercury” is what I think is the best Counting Crows song ever, “A Long December.”  This song returns Duritz to his comfort zone; cranky moping about.  With New Year’s approaching, he bemoans the lost opportunities and collapsed relationships of the past year.  Unlike previously on the record however, he nails it.

If you’ve ever walked around on a winter’s day so depressed that you’re sure the temperate is three degrees colder for you than anyone else, and felt every blow of the wind cut through your bones while everyone else walks through it oblivious, then this is the song for you.  This song is so evocative of the regret of failed relationships it doesn’t just bring the general experience back to me; I can even remember a specific day.

Never mind that Duritz is singing about California – fairly balmy even in winter – let’s give him a pass on that.  He’s not singing about physical cold anyway.

Overall, this album was a failure for me but right near the end the brilliance of “A Long December” and, to a lesser extent, “Mercury” recovers it enough to lift it up to average overall. 

Best tracks:  Mercury, A Long December

CD Odyssey Disc 476: The Pretenders

I’m back from a short visit with my parents and my brother Virgil for a belated Christmas celebration.  Tomorrow it is back to work, but my early morning shifts are over for a while so I can get up at the much more reasonable hour of 6:10 a.m.  Unfortunately, our shower is still broken, so bath time will continue.  That’s OK, as I’m becoming quite adept at the tub-shuffle required to do even simple things like wash your upper body or rinse your hair.  It is kind of like the title of this next disc…

Disc 476 is…Learning to Crawl

Artist: The Pretenders

Year of Release: 1983

What’s up with the Cover?  “The Band Shot”  Much as I love beautiful art, or am amused by the Big Head Cover, I like the simple band shot, which isn’t used nearly enough these days.  This cover says, “Hi.  We’re the Pretenders.  Here’s our album.”  Is there really anything else that needs to be said?

One minor quibble is that some soulless record executive has decided to print the “Special Price” logo right into the cover, so you can’t remove it.  You suck, soulless record exec.

How I Came To Know It:  I’ve known this album since I was a kid – I think my brother bought it on vinyl back in the day and I listened to his copy.  This copy is Sheila’s; I think she had this when we met.

How It Stacks Up:  We only have the one Pretenders album, and although I like it just fine, it can’t really stack up on its own.

Rating:  4 stars

It can be a bad sign when an album’s best songs are all the ones that are released as singles, but when those singles are as good as they are on “Learning to Crawl” it doesn’t bother me.

With one foot solidly in the new wave movement of the early eighties, and the other anchored in American blues, this album could easily have ended up awkward and directionless.  Fortunately, Chrissie Hynde is one of the great voices for the genre that seamlessly put these two movements together; rock and roll.

On heavily syncopated songs like “Time the Avenger,” Hynde sounds like Debbie Harry, with her staccato delivery and easy spoken-word style, but she adds a bluesy quality to the song that gives it a human quality which is often lacking in other new age music of the time.

Then she swings completely around, and delivers amazing homage to the 1971 Persuaders hit “Thin Line Between Love and Hate.”  Here Hynde sounds like a soul revivalist akin to Sharon Jones.  This song is so unlike “Time the Avenger” but Hynde’s smooth low register updates the song to eighties production, while still capturing the groove of the original.

“Thin Line Between Love and Hate” is a song about a man who comes home at five o’clock in the morning to find his woman treating him with deference and love, offering to cook him dinner etc., but once his guard is down he wakes up in the hospital.  For a modern update of this song, check out the Dead Weather’s “Treat Me Like Your Mother” – less direct violence, but just as much anger.  Or if you prefer a humorous take, try Emmylou Harris’ “Feelin’ Single – Seein’ Double.”

Anyway, back to “Thin Line…”  I have the original 1971 Persuaders version as well, which I slightly prefer, but it I think Hynde does a great job and brings a lot to the song, including demonstrating it can be equally effective sung by a woman.

As I noted at the beginning it is the hits on this record that stand out the most.  “Middle of the Road” is as brilliant today as it ever was, with its perfect blend of blues rock and modern pop, including power guitar solos, unmistakable falsetto “hoo-oo-woo-oo” chorus, and even a bridge that just breaks it down to the rhythm section where Hynde shows she sounds cool just counting time out loud.  Oh, and it fades out with a frenetic harmonica because – rock and roll!

“Back on the Chain Gang” is equal in its glory, although the tempo is a bit slower and the hoo-oo-woo-oos are replaced with “o-o-o-whoa”s.  When Hynde sings:

“I found a picture of you

Those were the happiest days of my life.”

You feel an overwhelming sense of loss.  You really should feel guilty tapping your toe happily along to such a sad tale, but you simply can’t deny yourself.  It may be a tragedy, but its got a catchy beat.

“Show Me” and “2000 Miles” are both more lyrical and pop-oriented, and they help to balance out the more raucous tracks well.  They also show that Hynde can make her powerhouse voice sweet when she wants it to be.

There are a couple of duds on the record.  “Watching the Clothes” is supposed to be a working class anthem, but the chorus is clunky and doesn’t live up to the energy the song starts off with.  “I Hurt You” is the one exception to the successful blend of the blues and new age elements on the record, where they seem to clang against one another just a little bit too much.

These are minor quibbles though on a record that just got better with repeated listens.  You may come for the hits, but you’ll find yourself staying for the whole LP.

Best tracks:  Middle of the Road, Back on the Chain Gang, Show Me, 2000 Miles

CD Odyssey Disc 475: Luka Bloom

My goal for 2013 is to learn to play the guitar.  I guess having a full time job, trying to publish one novel, write a second and continue the CD Odyssey just wasn’t enough to occupy my time.

As of this moment, I can’t even read sheet music, so I’ve got a ways to go, but I’ve at least shopped for a guitar (and learned that finding the selection for left handed guitars sadly wanting) and will soon have one of my very own, which seems a logical first step.

This next album has the kind of music I’d like to be able to play, and inspires me to stick to it until I can.

Disc 475 is…Riverside

Artist: Luka Bloom

Year of Release: 1990

What’s up with the Cover?  It is a Giant Head Cover.  Luka Bloom hasn’t mastered the Giant Head Cover as well as experts like Gordon Lightfoot, however.  This one is blurry and Luka looks distracted, with a slight edge of creepy.

How I Came To Know It:  As I noted when I reviewed my other Luka Bloom album (way back at Disc 21), I once helped get Canadian folk icon Mae Moore out of a lineup at a bar where I was a regular.  She and her friend joined me and my pals for a drink, and before she moved on with her evening, she did me a solid in return by recommending Luka Bloom to me.  Thanks, Mae!

How It Stacks Up:  I only have two Luka Bloom albums, and of the two “Riverside” is hands down my favourite.

Rating:  4 stars

This is another album from the days when I was wholly enamoured with folk music (I’m still enamoured but now I have many other genres I share my love with).  I’ve had “Riverside” since 1992 and it has never gone long outside of the rotation in my CD player.

One reason for this is Bloom’s guitar playing.  It isn’t like these songs are complicated musically, but Bloom is able to combine energetic Indigo Girl-like strumming with beautiful classical picking in a way that makes both better.  When I hear these songs I imagine myself playing them once I finally get my musical act together.  It is unlikely I’ll ever play them as well, but hey – that’s what the CD is for.

While the opening track, “Delirious” is a little too frenetic and unfocused for my tastes, Bloom quickly settles down with “Dreams in America” a six minute mood piece that showcases his mournful and deeply evocative singing voice.  The song conveys that displaced energy that comes when you’re exploring a new land (Bloom is from Ireland, and “Riverside” is the beginning of his North American experience).

His more upbeat songs like “Over the Moon” and “An Irishman in Chinatown” are fun and lively, but I find Bloom at his best at a slower tempo where he can wring more emotion out of both his guitar and his voice.

The two best songs in this regard are “Hudson Lady” and “The Man is Alive.”

“Hudson Lady” is a love song about a woman who is clearly stolen Bloom’s heart, although in this case that ‘woman’ is the Hudson River.  While comparing a river to a lover may be an old and oft-used theme, Bloom nails it.  The gentle strumming of his guitar, as he opens with:

“Though I want you badly

I can get uneasy.”

Is sung so confidentially and quietly, it’s like he’s lying on a pillow looking across at his lover, feeling awkward and exposed in the morning light.  Damn, maybe it is about a woman.  Frankly I don’t want it clarified either way; I like the uncertainty of the subject, so artfully coupled with the certainty of the relationship.

“The Man is Alive” is a song about a man sharing his childhood experiences with someone and realizing how deeply they were both affected by their respective fathers, each of whom died when they were young (I think).

My relationship to the song has changed its meaning over the years.  Initially it made me think of Mae Moore, because she had recommended the album, and at the time I associated her with the Canadian west coast (ironically, she is actually from Manitoba, so scratch that theory).  That said the song does feature Vancouver mountainsides, so at least that part is accurate.

Later it made me think of my own father, who died of alcoholism in 1994.  With lines like:

“The man is alive

It’s taken me so long to see

The man is alive and breathing

The man is alive in me.”

It served as a reminder to not share his fate.  Sometimes part of our influence from our parents is as much about expressing how we are unlike them, as how we are similar.  Whether we cling to or reject their influences, they influence us just the same.

And most recently it’s made me think of my stepfather, who is currently suffering from dementia.  My stepfather taught me that men can be gentle and still be men.  He is a soft spoken man who opened his heart up to a woman and two children as easily as some people say hello.  We had a lot of great and fun years together, and so it is strange that it has taken me so long to see that the song relates more to him than anyone.  Given his situation, it also rings all the more tragic as I watch him fade away from himself slowly and inexorably.  The song reminds me that he’ll always be alive in me – at least on my better days.

Back to the music (this is a music blog after all, not a diary) which is consistent throughout.  Irish jigs on songs like “You Couldn’t Have Come at a Better Time” pair surprisingly well alongside introspective numbers like “Gone to Pablo” with the consistency throughout being Bloom’s beautiful voice and careful folk playing.

One song in particular, “The Hill of Allen,” has a special place in my heart.  It is an instrumental, and the final song on the album.  As I noted when I reviewed Clannad’s “Past Present” at Disc 469, I used to suffer from some pretty bad insomnia and “The Hill of Allen” with its rolling rhythm and fading guitar was like a replacement for the sound of the ocean after I moved into the city.  I’d turn out all the lights in my basement suite in Oak Bay, fast forward the album to the end, and then climb into bed and drift off.  For an album with as much energy as “Riverside” it is the perfect fade out regardless of whether you hit the sack afterward or otherwise.

This album may be uneven in places, and for most people it is probably a three star effort at best, but because it has such a special importance for me, and because it can still get me feeling thoughtful (and even a little maudlin) twenty years later, I’m giving it a solid four out of five.

Best tracks:  Dreams in America, Gone to Pablo, The Man Is Alive, Hudson Lady, The Hill of Allen

CD Odyssey Disc 474: The Clash

This has been a long week, principally because our shower isn’t working.  I’m just not much of a bath guy.  It takes too long to run one, you’re never fully submerged and let’s face it, washing your hair in the tub is awkward.

Ah well, at least there’s music.

Disc 474 is…Combat Rock

Artist: The Clash

Year of Release: 1982

What’s up with the Cover?  Just a bunch of ne’er-do-wells hanging out at the railway tracks.  One band member commits the cardinal sin of wearing his own band’s shirt.  It is not cool to wear your own band’s shirt – only other bands.

How I Came To Know It:  As I’ve said before, Sheila put me on to the Clash in general.  When I met her, she had this album and “London Calling.”

How It Stacks Up:  We have five Clash albums (as I was recently reminded we are still missing “Sandanista”).  Of the five I must put “Combat Rock” last, or fifth.  Truth hurts.  Since this is my last Clash review until I get Sandanista, it is customary that I quickly recap and rate what has come before.  So in order of preference:

1.  London Calling:  5 stars (reviewed at Disc 258)
2. Self-Titled:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 256)
3. Black Market Clash:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 16)
4. Give ‘Em Enough Rope:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 227)
5. Combat Rock:  3 stars (reviewed right here).

Rating:  3 stars, but just barely

Even a band as influential and amazing as the Clash was bound to lay an egg, and “Combat Rock” is that egg.  The record has enough high points to still be good in places, but overall this was a disappointment.

“Combat Rock” sees the bad continue with their experimentation with other genres.  This I approve of in their career overall, but just because it is a good idea generally doesn’t mean it always works out.

It starts out strong, with the very punk “Know Your Rights” – a song that has me wishing every public service announcement had guitar.  Sadly, few do.

One of the challenges I have with this album is that two of the songs were unavoidable in 1982, and weren’t good enough to stand that kind of exposure.  “Should I Stay or Should I Go” is particularly annoying.  It is catchy enough the first time you hear it, but at its core it is simply a novelty hit like so many others.  From the first time I heard it I knew it was destined to be overplayed and then sung off-key by drunks at karaoke bars for the next thirty years.  This has well and truly wrecked it as a song, and it just isn’t musically interesting enough to recover.

“Rock the Casbah” also got a bad case of overplay in the day (and the video of the Clash prancing about the desert is truly stupid) but it is at least a better song.  It may just be a pop song, but it is a pretty catchy pop song.  While this one used to annoy me in the day, sufficient time has elapsed that this time around I found it was relatively rehabilitated.

Many of the other songs take the band in strange directions, including jazz influences and even what sounds like early attempts at spoken word resembling a kind of English proto-rap.  Unfortunately, Strummer isn’t really suited to that, and his attempts at catch-phrasing his way through a beat make him sound more like a soccer hooligan than a rap artist.

The worst example of this is “Red Angel Dragnet” where he sounds like he was taught to speak by the kids who rescue Mel Gibson in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome.  Also weak is “Ghetto Defendant” which starts out with a promising relaxed reggae beat, but starts doing a weird techno-rap non-sequiturs like:

“Do the worm on necropolis

Slam dance cosmopolis

Enlighten the populace.”

It made me think of the 1927 movie “Metropolis” but not in the good way I usually do.

For all this criticism, there are some standout tracks on “Combat Rock” that lift the quality of the overall album, even although most of them were not well known outside of diehard Clash fans.

“Overpowered by Funk” is a fine display of funk guitar and bass that show the Clash are far more than a pop punk act.  For all their other failed experimentation on this album (the unlistenable jazz/folk fusion of “Sean Flynn” comes to mind), “Overpowered by Funk” really works, and dare I say it, overpowers you with funk.  It is easy to see how Strummer and Mick Jones would go on to form the dance-hall friendly Big Audio Dynamite when you hear this song.  It is fun, cheeky and makes you want to get up and move your hips.

My favourite song on the album by a wide margin is “Straight to Hell,” a reggae inspired dirge about the hopelessness of the underclasses both in the rusted out industrial cities of England and the less-than-utopian third world communist state of Vietnam.  Joe Strummer’s vocals have never sounded so raw or heartfelt on this song, which for all of “Combat Rock’s” other shortcomings, is one of my all-time favourite Clash songs.

I think part of my disappointment with “Combat Rock” is how much more I enjoy the other records by the Clash.  This one suffers by comparison, but that doesn’t make it bad.  It just makes it merely good, when I wanted it to be more than good.

Best tracks:  Know Your Rights, Rock the Casbah, Straight to Hell, Overpowered by Funk

CD Odyssey Disc 473: Eric B and Rakim

I’m a little late to rap music, and albums like this next one make me regret that.

Disc 473 is…Paid in Full

Artist: Eric B. & Rakim

Year of Release: 1987

What’s up with the Cover?  The greatest rap duo of all time strike a pose (DJ Eric B. on the left, and emcee Rakim on the right).  This is in the day when a rap group would don a set of matching track suits and a bunch of golden bling to be actually cool, not ironically cool.  Also of note, I purchased this album, ensuring both Eric B. & Rakim continue to get paid in full for their role in laying down raps great legacy.  Pay the artist, people!

How I Came To Know It:  I likely first heard the song “Paid in Full” back in the eighties, and can almost guarantee I hated it.  How wrong I was.  In terms of my awakening to this band, it was in hearing their original of “Microphone Fiend” remade by Rage Against the Machine for their “Renegades” album in 2000.  “Paid in Full” is just me drilling through their musical collection after I was impressed with a sampling I’d heard earlier on a 20^th Century Masters compilation.

How It Stacks Up:  I only have two of Eric B. & Rakim’s four studio albums, which is something I mean to remedy.  Both are amazing, but I’m going to give 1988’s “Follow the Leader” the edge, and leave “Paid in Full” at second.

Rating:  4 stars but very close to 5.

Eighties rap was heavily focused on determining who could rap the best, and who could lay down the best scratches.  My exposure to rap is still fairly limited, but as far as I’m concerned Eric B. & Rakim were the best then, and are still the best twenty-five years later.

When a great emcee takes the microphone, it should feel like they’re casting a spell with their rhymes and their cadence.  No one casts a spell like Rakim.  When he starts rhyming he commands your attention.  Whatever you’re doing you find you stop doing it.  If you’re talking, you fall silent.  If you’re thinking about something else, you forget about that and let him take you into the journey of his words, which are far more interesting than whatever journey you were on before he starting talking.

In fact, I started out trying to write this review like I usually do, with the album playing in the background to give me inspiration.  The problem was that with Rakim weaving words over sampled James Brown horn and guitar riffs (and God knows what else) I couldn’t concentrate on writing.  All my frontal lobes got drawn in to listening to the intricate rhymes he was laying down, and the effortless use of beat and cadence while he did it.  It was like trying to write a novel while listening to Leonard Cohen sing; there were just too many good words already in my head that weren’t my own.  And so, in desperation, I’ve had to resort to radio silence just to get some of my thoughts down.

To be sure there are other great and smooth emcees out there; I like the guys in EPMD and Guru from Gang Starr is also impressive, but no one draws me in like Rakim.

It is amazing for me to find such an emotional attachment to the music as well, since these songs aren’t about anything more complicated than “I rap better than you/I rap the best.”  It shouldn’t be this compelling.

Rakim doesn’t operate in a vacuum, and his DJ Eric B. is also at the pinnacle of his craft.  Scratching is an art unto itself, and I can’t think of someone who does it better than Eric B.  A number of the songs on “Paid in Full” are the rap equivalent of an instrumental, in fact, and Eric B. carries those songs alone.  Rather than find myself missing Rakim’s verbal mastery, I was drawn into the artistry of scratching.

And like Rakim’s raps, Eric B’ solo songs like “Eric B. is on the Cut” and “Extended Beat” tell you with their title not to expect any deeper meaning.  Like Rakim telling you that he raps the best, these are songs where Eric B. is telling you he scratches the best.  It would feel like wild and pointless boasting on both counts, except that it is true.

Of course, “Paid in Full” is from the golden era of rap, before every sample had to be paid for.  This opens up the entire human race’s vinyl collection for inspiration.  Yet for all that, the samples are surprisingly simple.  This isn’t like Public Enemy’s wall of sampling; “Paid in Full” keeps things deceptively simple.  A beat, a sampled riff and maybe a few choice sounds to add some depth.  Despite the basic approach, the music is complex, and in places even reminiscent of jazz (the good jazz – not the obtuse, masturbatory kind).

There’s not much more I can say, except the only album that bests “Paid in Full” for me in the rap world is also by Eric B. & Rakim:  “Follow the Leader” (more on that when I roll it).  I guess on that note, I will follow the leader, and leave this unworthy offering with a few lines from the R to the A to the K-I-M who explains his melody better than I ever could:

“Rhymes are poetically kept and alphabetically stepped

Put in an order to pursue with the momentum except

I say one rhyme outta order, a longer rhyme shorter

Or pause – but don’t stop the tape recorder.

“I’m not a regular competitor, first rhyme editor

Melody arranger, poet, et cetera

Extra events, the grand finale like bonus

I am the man they call the microphonist.”

Best tracks:  Ain’t No Joke, Eric B. is on the Cut, I Know You Got Soul, Move the Crowd, Paid in Full, As the Rhyme Goes On, Extended Beat

CD Odyssey Disc 472: Hot Chocolate

I recently had a whole bunch of time off, during most of which I was terribly ill.  Today was the first day I was feeling like myself again, but was also my first regular day back at work.  This has made me quite grumpy with the universe which repays my grumpiness as it always does, with celestial indifference.

And so since grumpy won’t do me any good, this next review delivers groovy.  I can’t believe in a universe that doesn’t dig groovy.  That would just be ridiculous.  There’s always room for groovy.

Disc 472 is…Every 1’s a Winner:  The Very Best of Hot Chocolate

Artist: Hot Chocolate

Year of Release: 1993, but with music from 1970 through 1984

What’s up with the Cover?  Pretty basic signage but the red background has a subtle fiery effect.  Or maybe that’s just the smooth ripples in the surface of a warm mug of hot chocolate, baby.

How I Came To Know It:  Along with a bunch of my friends, I went through a funk and soul phase in the late nineties, and I probably bought this in the euphoria of that experience.  My buddy Nick probably played this for me first so I’ll give him the credit for this one.  Nick is from England and Hot Chocolate was much bigger in the U.K., so it stands to reason he took the lead on their rediscovery for me over here.

How It Stacks Up:  I only have this one Hot Chocolate album, and it is a compilation, so it can’t stack up.  I like it though.

Rating:  ‘best of’ albums are not albums, and can’t be properly rated.  They are just a collection of singles.  Groovy, groovy singles.

When I upload compilations from CD to my computer, I like to change the year of each song so that it reflects when the song came out, rather than the release date of the compilation.  When I did that with this Hot Chocolate record, and saw that the music ran from 1970 through 1984 I was more than a little nervous.  Here was a band well known for two or three songs, spread from 1971 through 1978.  Would I regret hearing another great soul/R&B band degenerate into disco as the eighties approached?

As it turns out, not at all.  Disco lives, my friends, and it lives in this glorious hot mug of fun that is Hot Chocolate’s greatest hits package.  In fact, this album shows that disco’s roots go well back into the early nineteen seventies. 

Some of the tracks on here are so full of disco’s sexy goodness that Donna Summers would be jealous, such as the space-age “Put Your Love in Me” from 1977 or even that earliest of disco references, 1975’s “Disco Queen.”  The latter song is both exceptional disco and exceptional funk music, and shows the common roots of both forms of music in what is essentially up tempo soul music.

Hearing “Disco Queen” makes me wish I was fifteen years younger, so that I could’ve spent my clubbing years dancing to these groovy rhythms rather than wasting my time with the comparatively pedestrian derivatives like Bel Biv Devoe or Salt N’ Pepa.  “Disco Queen” is a funky song that is original and compelling.  No samples (that I know of) and no electronic tricks, just a bass line, some horns and a guy not afraid to sing about a girl who’s not afraid to move.

Much has been said of the three main hits from this band, and frankly of the three the biggest (“You Sexy Thing”) is the least interesting of them all, although still excellent.  For my tastes, I would bump perennial runner-up “Every 1’s a Winner” to first place, with its rolling drum opening, and that rock guitar riff, so instantly recognizable that jumps in like a house guest that grabs your guitar without asking, but then plays it so well you can’t complain.

In fact, I’d also put “You Sexy Thing” behind the very early “You Could Have Been a Lady” with that opening bass line, those Caribbean beats (band leader and main songwriter Erroll Brown hails from Jamaica) a horn section that would make Mick Jagger’s hips fall off (if not then, certainly now) and, yes another fine bit of guitar that is as smooth and eager as all of the band’s music.

I spend large parts of this blog dismissing compilation albums, but knowing that I’m not likely to buy a half dozen Hot Chocolate albums, I’ve got to say this is one of the better collections I’ve got.  At nineteen tracks it is a bit overlong (even Greatest Hits packages rarely need more than fourteen songs), but it is only slightly bloated, and even songs from later in the career, such as “Girl Crazy” and “Are You Getting Enough Happiness” are strong dance anthems.

With the exception of “Brother Louie” (a song in support of inter-racial love affairs that coming in 1973, is both brave and compelling) this isn’t an album you should search for deeper meaning.  This is an album about getting down and dirty; on the dance floor and (if things go well there) then maybe later on some thick ply shag carpet.

Having been sick for a week this was the first day I felt like I had some energy to spare, and it was happily spent getting down to this record.  Hot Chocolate reminds us that sometimes music is just about good clean, sexy fun.

Here are some best tracks, and I’ve included the year for each just to demonstrate that these guys stayed consistently good for a very long time, which isn’t easy.

Best tracks:  You Sexy Thing (1975), Girl Crazy (1982), Love is Life (1970), Every 1’s a Winner (1978), You Could Have Been a Lady (1971), Disco Queen (1975), Don’t Stop It Now (1976), Are You Getting Enough Happiness (1980)