CD Odyssey Disc 579: Neil Young

My apologies for the delay in getting this next review out.  The holidays are supposed to be relaxing, but it was hard to find time to listen to this next album in the way the Odyssey demands (i.e. without other distraction).

Disc 579 is…. On the Beach

Artist: Neil Young

Year of Release: 1974

What’s up with the Cover? A lot is going on in this little beach scene.  A car mostly buried in the sand beneath a picnic table, while off in the distance Neil stares out to sea, no doubt wondering just what strange events could result in such an accident.  He has his boots off, but his clothes on, seemingly unable to decide between going for a swim or returning to the shade of the patio table to finish reading the newspaper (which features the great headline “SEN BUCKLEY CALLS FOR NIXON TO RESIGN”).

How I Came To Know It:  I already owned a lot of Young’s seventies albums, but had never heard of “On the Beach,” which was apparently not available on CD for many years.  I bought it on a flier, hoping it would be good based on the year it was released.

How It Stacks Up:  I have 15 Neil Young albums, with plans to get at least another six.  Of the 15 I have, “On the Beach” is way up there – I’ll put it third.

Rating:  4 stars but very close to 5

Because of its lack of availability, “On the Beach” was lost to mists of time for many years.  People my age were too young to be aware of it when it came out in 1974 and as for those who are older, some know and appreciate it, but it was far from being a commercial blockbuster like its predecessor, 1972’s “Harvest.”  So what to make of this obscure record that fell into “Harvest’s” shadow?

First off, it is a lot more bluesy.  “On the Beach” still has folk-rock elements but it also has a laid back blues groove that is propelled by Young’s deeply underappreciated guitar playing.  In a world where many guitar gods are rightly worshipped (Knopfler, Hendrix, May), Neil Young falls into the category of those that are wrongly overlooked. Here Young has a style that sways its way through a song like a river winding through a flood plain; wide, slow and deep and knowing just where and when to turn to stay on course.

“On the Beach” showcases this guitar work better than many of his other albums.  It never falls into noodling, but instead tastefully adds flavour to the melody where there’s room. The title track is particularly beautiful for this, with picking that is deep and deliberate, and leaves lots of space between notes.

The opening song “Walk On” goes for a more direct guitar riff to deliver an up-tempo message of ‘live and let live’ that I appreciate.  In the song’s opening lines Neil describes it this way:

I hear some people been talkin' me down,

Bring up my name, pass it 'round.

They don't mention happy times

They do their thing, I'll do mine.

Ooh baby, that's hard to change

I can't tell them how to feel.

Some get stoned, some get strange,

But sooner or later it all gets real.

However, to see this album as a collection of hippy anthems would be to sell it short. “On the Beach” has incredible range. “See the Sky About to Rain” is on the surface a gentle pastoral folk song about a storm rolling in over an open plain, a train in the distance.  Neil muses about the lives of those people on the train, but it is the weather that is the song’s protagonist.  The music perfectly matches that feeling of a rain cloud passing over, with opening piano feeling like the first drops hitting the ground, and the other instruments joining in as the rain gathers in intensity.

“Revolution Blues” is a paranoid vision of a family who live on the outskirts of town, so fearful of government that they begin to fear their own neighbours.  The song rocks with a nervous but controlled energy and in Young’s hands, the subject becomes a broader painting of that lack of trust in the modern world. 

The next two tracks are a stripped down banjo-driven number (“For the Turnstile”) and a Delta blues indictment of oil development (“Vampire Blues”). In both cases, Young manages to comment politically while keeping the songs deeply personal and intimate.

“Side Two” (as they used to say in 1974) follows that seventies tradition of offering up longer, more laid-back songs as opposed to short, radio-friendly fare.  The aforementioned title track is joined by “Motion Pictures” and “Ambulance Blues” to deliver a trilogy of relaxed, introspective songs.  On “Motion Pictures”, amidst a quite guitar strum and some wistful harmonica Neil sing about starting over:

“All those headlines they just bore me now.

I’m deep inside myself but I’ll get out somehow.”

Hearing this made me feel like I was sitting on the beach myself, and in no hurry to get up and see what is in that newspaper I discarded under the patio table.

Taken as a whole, the album is like the cover, a tension between the political and the personal that is united under Neil Young’s steady hand.

Best tracks:   Walk On, See the Sky About to Rain, Revolution Blues, For the Turnstiles, Motion Pictures, Ambulance Blues

CD Odyssey Disc 578: The Irish Descendants

I am on holiday!  Yeehaw!  After a long and hard year, I’m looking forward to twelve days off at a time I am sharply feeling the need for down time.

On our last day in the office, I brought my guitar to work and did my first ever playing with other guitar players (that aren’t my teacher).  At first I found it a bit intimidating (they were both much better) and a little awkward, but both guys were very gracious, and helped me not only participate, but also show off those things I did best.  So many thanks to both Chris and Brennan, for their patience and kindness.  I had a great time, and can’t wait to do it again.

Disc 578 is…. Rollin’ Home

Artist: The Irish Descendants

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover? Believe it or not, there is a ship on the high seas in this picture, but you can’t see it past the enormous Irish Descendants logo plastered on top. On previous reviews for this band I’ve admired their use of the logo, but I think they overdid it a wee bit on this occasion.

How I Came To Know It:  I had been a fan of these guys since I’d discovered them five years earlier, and this was just me buying their latest release.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Irish Descendants albums, and this one is third or fourth best depending on my mood.  It really is a dead heat between “Rollin’ Home” and “Livin’ On the Edge” (reviewed back at Disc 307) but going over them both I’ll give the latter album the slight…er…edge based on the instrumental work.

Rating:  3 stars

If you need a spring in your step on a cold winter’s day, look no further than a bit of Newfoundland folk music like you’ll find on “Rollin’ Home.” “Rollin’ Home” gave me just such a spring, and I think I was even caught by a stranger dancing a little jig on a street corner where I thought I was alone.  I regret nothing.

Well, I do actually regret not getting to review this record a bit earlier, because for all the joy it gives me, it is also uneven in places – a noticeable challenge when the Odyssey rules forbid skipping songs.

The album starts off strong, with “The Dublin Reel” and “Rollin’ Home” delivering up tempo songs on upbeat topics.  The fiddle and mandolin playing is sprightly, and while the boys aren’t going to break any new ground on how folk songs are constructed, that isn’t what folk music is for anyway.

A fun feature of an Irish Descendants album is the humour, and previous records had songs about having all your money stolen during a drunken tryst (“Peter Street”), and a man being pursued by the village harridan (“Uncle Dan”).

On “Rollin’ Home,” the songs delivering the humour are “Murphy Broke the Pledge” (about a town drunk on a rampage) and “Never Been There Before” (about the joys of casual sex) so they don’t lack for good material.  Unfortunately, the songs are relatively weak musically compared to the earlier efforts.  Given both the songs are traditional I can’t entirely blame the Irish Descendants, who play them well enough, but they did choose to include them, so that’s on them.

The best songs on “Rollin’ Home” are the mournful love songs, a trio of tracks each named after a different woman, “Colleen Malone,” “Nancy Miles” and “Madeline” (who, like Madonna, provided no last name. “Colleen Malone” is about a woman who dies waiting for her man to return from his voyage, and “Nancy Miles” is a portrait of a maid once beautiful and cheerful, but faded from age and  circumstance.  The saddest sounding of them all, “Madeline” is actually the most uplifting; a simple love song from a man who has won a woman’s heart.  Despite all the minor chords, this song is actually positive, and the challenging vocal is brilliantly delivered by lead singer Con O’Brien.

Instrumental reels are common fair on a Celtic folk album, and “Rollin’ Home” has two. While ably played I found neither particularly engaging, which ultimately is what puts it slightly behind the album that preceded it (1996’s “Livin’ On the Edge”).  Speaking of “Livin’ on the Edge” what is up with these guys insistence on not spelling out the ‘g’ in the verbs?  I don’t care how you say it, boys, but you could at least spell it properly.  But I digress…

Back to the album, and a quick note on the production, which is excellent, and maybe the best of any of their records excepting maybe “Gypsies & Lovers” (reviewed back at Disc 517).  So a shout out to producer Sandy Morris – producers are an important part of making a good record, and Morris does a fine job in getting a full and crisp sound out these songs.

Although “Rollin’ Home” isn’t a perfect record, there is much to recommend it, and even though I hadn’t put it on in a while, this listen reminded me why I used to play it so often.  Thanks, CD Odyssey!

Best tracks:   The Dublin Reel, Rollin’ Home, Let Her Go Down, Colleen Malone, Nancy Miles, Madeline

CD Odyssey Disc 577: The White Stripes

Getting ready for Christmas is tiring work.  The shopping is finished right enough, but just clearing my desk to take some time off is a task in and of itself.

As a result, this review was a bit delayed in getting written. I’m getting it done now in the hopes I’ll be able to get one more in over the weekend and before the holidays fully descend.

Disc 577 is…. Get Behind Me Satan

Form of...an apple tree!  Form of...English Zorro!

Artist: The White Stripes

Year of Release: 2005

What’s up with the Cover? The usual red, black and white set up that is the White Stripes’ trademark.  Meg’s dress looks lovely and Jack’s moustache is impeccable.  Note the behind-the-back finger pointing.  Is this finger pointing accusatory in theme with the album title (“He’s Satan!” “No She’s Satan!”), or are they just activating their Wonder Twin powers?

How I Came To Know It:  By 2005 I was firmly a White Stripes fan, so I just bought this record when it came out.

How It Stacks Up:  I have all six White Stripes albums, and they are all amazing.  Sadly, something has to be at or near the bottom, and so it is with this album, which I put fifth or sixth, depending on my mood.

Rating:  3 stars but close to 4

White Stripes albums will always have the advantage of Jack White’s amazing abilities as a producer.

The first track on “Blue Orchid” is brilliant on its own, but with White’s production decisions it becomes a thing of raw beauty.  Jack’s vocals are high but bluesy, like Robert Plant crossed with Robert Johnson.  The guitar riff is simple, but White has turned up the reverb to its highest, crunchiest point.  The guitar never crosses the line into muddy, but listening to it walk right up to the edge of doing so is what gives the song its energy.  At a mere 2:37 “Blue Orchid” is also brilliantly brief, showing that like previous rock pioneers Buddy Holly and Dick Dale, White can wow us quickly and not feel like he has to drag it out after he’s done so.

 “My Doorbell” is another of my favourites.  It is constructed like a classic R&B track, and then infused with so much seventies rock enthusiasm it defies classification.  The melody is delivered partly with guitar chords and partly with piano mimicking the same effect, and both work equally well in getting your groove on.

Some songs like “Little Ghost”and “Nurse” are a bit too cutesy.  They have moments of brilliance and overwrought concepts (lyrically and musically) in equal measure.  Both come out on the positive side of the ledger, and are unlike anything anyone else was doing at the time (or since) so I forgive their excesses, even if I feel duty bound to point them out.

Jack White can write a pretty little melody in his sleep, and for all its crunch, “Get Behind Me Satan” smartly leaves lots of space between the sound to appreciate the song’s construction.  In lesser hands music like this is gets filled with guitar or drum flourishes that bleed into each other to construct the oft-sought “wall of sound,” all at the expense of the tune itself.  “Get Behind Me Satan” is crisp, and each note rings out, controlled and resonant, like a preacher’s voice at the height of a sermon.

Overall, the album is very good at mixing light and whimsical with thick and dirty.

Most tracks on “Get Behind Me Satan” find the perfect alchemical process to mix these two things, but at times it can feel more like a sound experiment than a fully developed song. “White Moon” and “Instinct Blues” both suffer from this, although neither could truly be called bad.

One of my favourite deep cuts is “Take Take Take” a song about how fans always feel like they are being respectful with their requests of celebrities, but how often these requests get more and more unreasonable until the star is forced to be rude just to disengage.  In the song, our protagonist sees Rita Hayworth come into his seedy bar.  Hayworth agrees to first an autograph, and then a picture but eventually has had enough, at which point our pushy fan turns on her, portraying her as cruel and uncaring.  It isn’t at the level of Rush’ “Limelight” (the most honest song about star/fan interaction ever written) but it is still insightful.

The album ends with “I’m Lonely (But I Ain’t That Lonely Yet)” a stripped down song with Jack singing over a single piano about…well…loneliness.  We’ve all been there, and this song captures the feeling pretty well, if from the perspective of someone who feels the pangs a bit more than most.

“Get Behind Me Satan” at times feels unfinished, and at times it takes chances that are equal measures inspired and frustrating, but ultimately the brilliance of Jack White’s writing, production and performance come together to deliver another solid record that is worth your time.

Best tracks:   Blue Orchid, My Doorbell, The Denial Twist, Passive Manipulation, I’m Lonely (But I Ain’t That Lonely Yet)

CD Odyssey Disc 576: Jimmy Rankin

I have finished my Christmas shopping and I’m feeling very much in the spirit of the season.  It was fun engaging with people at stores and in check-out lines and I’m feeling relaxed and happy to be a part of the human race.  Sure we’ve got our faults, but we’re not so bad overall.  Try to remember that as you maneuver through crowded streets and malls over the next ten days.

Disc 576 is…. Song Dog

Artist: Jimmy Rankin

Year of Release: 2001

What’s up with the Cover? Jimmy plays guitar.  Someone should tell him that the fret hand actually needs to be on the guitar to make the chord work.

How I Came To Know It:  I had been a fan of the Rankin Family for some time when I saw Jimmy Rankin’s video for the song, “Followed Her Around” on CMT.  I liked it, and given my previous experience with the Rankins decided to give him a chance.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three of Jimmy Rankin’s solo albums.  Originally, I had ranked “Handmade” as the best.  “Handmade” does have my favourite Jimmy Rankin song, “Colorado” but having listened to “Song Dog” again, I have to say overall it is the better record, so I’m putting it first and bumping “Handmade” down to second.

Since this completes this artist in my collection, tradition dictates a quick listing, in order of preference:

1. Song Dog: 4 stars (reviewed right here).
2. Handmade: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 130).
3. Edge of Day: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 509).

Rating:  4 stars

If you ever listen to the Rankin Family albums and wish that there was less sing-song Celtic traditionalism, and more of Jimmy Rankin’s contemporary folk compositions, then “Song Dog” will definitely appeal to you.

Sister Cookie Rankin’s pretty voice is still present on a number of tracks, but only as background vocals, filling out the songs with touches of colour to the upper range of the melody.  This is definitely Jimmy Rankin’s baby, and it his vocal, pure and purposeful, which carries the album.

When I first heard this record, it caused me to go back into the Rankin Family catalogue and listen to the songs that he is featured on.  Each of those old albums has a Jimmy Rankin original like “Your Boat’s Lost at Sea,” “The Ballad of Malcolm Murray” or “Let it Go,” and when I look back at my reviews of those albums, they are consistently some of my favourite songs on those records. “Song Dog” is basically an entire album of this type of song, which combine the sights and sounds of Atlantic Canada with an introspective style that borders on confessional.

The album is dedicated to John Morris Rankin, who had died tragically in a car accident the year before, and many of the songs feel like Jimmy’s attempt to come to terms with the loss. On “Wasted” this is particularly acute, a gorgeous song about drowning your sorrows with booze and bad habits.  I don’t know if this song is about John Morris, but it is hard not to think about him when Jimmy sings:

“I’d trade all of the fine life

Everything I’ve tasted

Just to have you near, just to have you near

Instead I’m wasted.”

Other songs cover lost love, and while living up to the exceptional “Colorado” on “Handmade” is a tall order, “Midnight Angel” and “Stoned Blue” come damn close.

Jimmy brings in the talents of fellow Cape Bretoner Gordie Sampson’s musical talents on a number of tracks to good effect.  Sampson’s amazing work on the bouzouki on the instrumental “We’ll Carry on (Prelude)” is an absolute joy to listen to, and sets the emotional tone for the entire record.  Sampson is worth checking out as a solo artist as well, and I even reviewed his album “Sunburn” back at Disc 173.  Check him out.

“Drunk and Crucified” and “Tripper” are the social conscience of the album, the former a snapshot of a homeless man in the cold, and the latter a character study that reminds us that even hardened criminals were once just kids like us, with dreams of their own that sadly never came true.

The guitar and piano work on this album are amazing, and Rankin lets his finger picking bring out the melody and his strumming patterns to add resonance, blending them artfully together.  Electric guitar is used for flavour in places, but like sister Cookie’s background vocals care is taken to ensure it doesn’t overwhelm the album’s rootsy sound.

Lyrically, the record has many high points, although they work best with Jimmy’s exceptional phrasing and delivery.  Internal rhyme helps as well.  It may be an old trick, but that’s because it works so well.

The exception would be “Lighthouse Heart” which is schmaltzy and forced.  “I wanna be your lighthouse keeper/I wanna be your beacon in the dark” is a clumsily delivered metaphor and the song pushes the point home a bit too hard.  The tune is pretty though, as Jimmy has a great ear on where a song should go for maximum emotional impact, all the while staying in fairly conventional three and four chord progressions.

I came to this record liking the Rankin Family already, but even if you don’t, this record is a different beast and you shouldn’t write it off.  “Song Dog” is a deeply honest record from an artist who clearly had plenty to say as a solo act that he could only partly accomplish as part of the Rankin Family band.  It is an explosion of his solo talent, and while it isn’t perfect, it deserves to be considered a classic in the Canadian folk genre for years to come. 

Best tracks:   Followed Her Around, Midnight Angel, Drunk & Crucified, Wasted, We’ll Carry On (Prelude), This is the Hour, We’ll Carry On, Stoned Blue

CD Odyssey Disc 575: Okkervil River

I should be thinking about getting a good night’s sleep, but instead I’m thinking about getting in a music review.  CD Odyssey, you are a harsh mistress.

Disc 575 is…. The Stand Ins

Artist: Okkervil River

Year of Release: 2008

What’s up with the Cover? A disturbing little skull puppet.  For a guy with a skull for  a head this guy looks in desperate need of a skeleton, or maybe based on that green bottle in one hand he’s just really drunk. What’s up with his other hand you ask?  That’s a secret to reveal in a later review, so for now you’ll just have to wait and wonder.

How I Came To Know It:  A couple of years back I read an article about Okkervil River in a folk music magazine Sheila put in my Christmas stocking.  I checked into them and was told by some music store folks at Ditch not to get their most recent album (at the time, this was 2011’s“I Am Very Far”) because it wasn’t very indicative of their sound.  Undeterred, I went and Youtubed a bunch of their songs and liked the ones I heard on this album and also those on 2007’s “The Stage Names” so I bought those records first.

How It Stacks Up:  We have six of Okkervil River’s seven albums (still missing their debut, “Don’t Fall in Love With Everyone You See”).  Of the six, I’d say “The Stand Ins” is one of my favourites – I’ll put it second.

Rating:  4 stars

Okkervil River is one of those bands that deserves a lot more recognition than they get.  This makes “The Stand Ins” a little ironic, since the record is mostly about exploring ideas around being famous.  A bit of a reach for Okkervil River, but then again, maybe being moderately famous allows them the foot in both worlds necessary to write an album like this.

Since this is my first Okkervil River review, a quick note on the band’s general style.  They are firmly indie rock, landing somewhere between later Wilco and the Decemberists, with just a pale and wan hint of the Smiths adding a dollop of melancholia.

I will credit “The Stand Ins” for being a tight little album of only eleven tracks.  It could even be a little more substantive than it is, since three of those tracks (“Stand Ins” Parts One, Two and Three respectively) are just little instrumental mood pieces, each under a minute long.  I think the album establishes mood well enough without these song fragments.

The other eight songs are held together by both the cohesive themes of fame (and its quality of disconnecting us from meaningful human interaction).  They are also held together by the dreamy quality of Okkervil River’s music, which manages to submerge the dangerously manic quality of indie rock under ‘tear in my beer’ country song construction.  Lead singer Will Sheff’s voice - simultaneously high and angst-ridden and low and mournful - plays a big part.  He can sing well under the melody or soar over it with equal grace, and his choices always serve the song first, not the singer.

The song “Lost Coastlines,” sums up the album as a whole (as a good opening track does).  “Lost Coastlines” is a song about how making your way in the world can sometimes mean losing your bearings.  Sheff’s phrasing is amazing, and is a hallmark for the band’s overall style on the record.  Lines blend into one another, and also blend with the music in a way that makes the rhyming lines seem almost accidental.  The song drives you forward like a leaf in the wind, unsure where one bar ends and another begins.  It is delightfully disorienting – like a carnival ride for the subconscious.

As befits a band that stands in between fame and obscurity, for every song internalizing the experiences of celebrity, there is another about our reaction to those more famous than ourselves.  “Singer Songwriter” is a character study about the idly famous, receiving recognition for who they are over what they accomplish and “Calling and Not Calling My Ex” is about the pain of having ended a relationship with someone famous, and subsequently being confronted with that person’s image at every turn.

“Calling and Not Calling My Ex” has a title that would usually have me frothing mad, but in this case I think it well suited to that conflict we have all felt when we desperately wanted to call someone we still care about, and the knowledge that ship has already sailed down its own lost coastline.

The best song on the record is “On Tour With Zykos,” a still, quiet song that steals into you all the more effectively for all of the tethered mania of the other tracks.  It is a song about the emptiness of the road, but it appeals to anyone feeling like they’ve lost their zest for life.  If you’ve ever had a dry spell in your creative endeavours these lines may appeal to you:

“I was supposed to be writing

the most beautiful poems,

and completely revealing

divine mysteries up close,

but I can’t say that I’m feeling

that much at all at 27 years old.

I’m discussed with desire

by the guys who conspire

at the only decent bar in town,

and they drink MGDs

and they wish they had me,

like I wish I had fire.”

This song has a lazy Sunday afternoon quality to its flow, in the same way that “Sunday Morning Coming Down” does.  It is a lazy, do-nothing day, but it is the undercurrent that you should be spending it differently that turns what should be relaxing into something sad and slightly tragic.

Then again, if that last line above had you thinking “that’s a bit maudlin” you’d be right.  Okkervil River like to steep themselves in the self-loathing (remember the touch of the Smiths I noted earlier) but it is done well for the most part, so I forgive it. “Blue Orchid” and the unforgivably pretentiously titled “Bruce Wayne Campbell Interviewed on the Roof of the Chelsea Hotel, 1979” both stray too far over the line of self-pity.

Half this album is excellent, and the other half is overwrought and self-indulgent, making a final rating difficult to decide.  Despite all its warts, “The Stand Ins” drew me in on the the good songs well enough that I was able to forgive its failings, and so right at the end I edged it into four star territory, if only just.

Best tracks:   Lost Coastlines, Singer Songwriter, Starry Stairs, On Tour With Zykos, Calling and Not Calling My Ex

CD Odyssey Disc 574: Bruce Springsteen

I started writing this on Saturday morning, but it has been an eventful weekend, and I’m only now finishing it off.  Saturday night I went to a Christmas party where I had a great time, but sprained my thumb attempting to do a Russian dance during Boney M’s “Rasputin” (note to self – you are not 25 years old anymore).  I guess it was only fitting given that experience that I review an old album that reminds you of being young.

Disc 574 is…. Born to Run

Artist: Bruce Springsteen

Year of Release: 1975

What’s up with the Cover? Bruce, looking cool with his guitar.  Also, some other dude’s back.  I have no idea who, although I’m sure this cover is famous enough that someone has researched it.  Go ahead and Google it – I’ll wait…

How I Came To Know It:  Welcome back! I can’t remember exactly how I came to this album.  Either Sheila bought it or it was me drilling through Bruce’s collection.  Either way, it’s not much of a story, so let’s move on to the next category. 

How It Stacks Up:  We have ten Bruce Springsteen albums.  I like all of them in different ways, but despite “Born to Run’s” reputation, I have to put it further down than most.  I’ll say it is sixth best, just ahead of “Greetings from Asbury Park” (reviewed at Disc 506).  If you think it should be higher, then go ahead and gripe, gripers, but it is my blog, so it’s my order.

Rating:  4 stars

For many, “Born to Run” is Springsteen’s greatest album. I like a lot of his other work more, but it definitely has some great moments.

The record has a common theme of being young and restless in a nowhere town that is so cohesive it borders on being a concept album. For Springsteen, spiritual survival in those circumstances translates into a desire to get out of town as soon as possible.  If you can’t get out, then you want to find some release – girls, booze, or minor adventure – that help the days go by quickly, and the night to give you some form of release.

I am from just such a blue collar town, and I think that Bruce Springsteen will always resonate deep inside of me because of it.  “Born to Run” does a good job of dragging all that up when I listen to it.  It isn’t the masterpiece that “Darkness at the Edge of Town” is, but I’ll give it credit for creating some of the same tone.

The first song, “Thunder Road” is a classic rock song of rebellion.  It starts off slow with piano and harmonica, the measured tempo reminiscent of the walk down the graduation aisle that the song’s protagonist sees represented as driving out of town and never heading back.  The song is light on plans and heavy on hope, where leaving home might be the only thing left to give him and his girl a chance.

“Thunder Road” builds beautifully, and the music has a feel that lets you feel the speed of the car that will take the two young lovers out of town, and even more so, the urgent need to go.  I know exactly how that feels, but if you’ve never felt the need to be somewhere else this badly, listen to the song and you’ll know exactly what it is like.

The next track, “Tenth Avenue Freeze Out,” doesn’t hold up the same emotional resonance but I like the change of pace, discussing what it is like living alone in the city.  That’s right, sometimes you leave town with a girl, but end up on your own.  Don’t be upset about it – at least you both got to where it was you were going, even if it wasn’t the same place.

Midway through the record, following more songs about desperate love and hard-working day jobs, we come to the title track, a song filled with the joy of the muscle car.  “Born to Run” is rife with powerful images of the powerful machines that still give me a thrill when I see them.  This is the land of the Dodge Charger, the Chevy Camaro and the Pontiac GTO.  I love those cars, and it is easy to love this song, as Springsteen sings:

“In the day we seat it out in the streets

of a runaway American dream

At night we ride through the mansions of

glory in suicide machines

Sprung from the cages out on Highway 9

Chrome wheeled, fuel injected

And steppin’ out over the line

Baby this town rips the bones from your back

It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap

We gotta get out when we’re young

‘Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run.”

The song races like the cars in it, and feels like it will crash as it climbs up the scale, before it is perfectly rescued by a Clarence Clemons saxophone solo that grounds everything again.  “Born to Run” is a song about racing, and it is a song about love, but more than anything it is a song about people with little to look forward to finding a way to make life have meaning, through the very act at driving unsafe vehicles and unsafe speeds just to approach the edge of the line where they finally feel alive.

“Meeting Across the River” is the one song that I don’t love.  It feels a bit too jazzy, and has a style that feels like a Tom Waits song gone slightly wrong. Leave boozy lounge singing to the master, Bruce.

The album ends with “Jungleland,” another classic song about both coming of age and escaping youth (similar, but different things, trust me).  The song is over nine minutes long, but it never drags.  Best line:

“Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge

Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain.”

“Jungleland” sums up the whole album.  It manages to be about humble beginnings and also the promise of a new adult life, in a place that is both grander than where we start, and in many ways disappointingly the same.  There’s the ubiquitous car racing, rock and roll, desperate love being made in the shadows, and someone even gets shot (or at least his dreams are gunned down); proof that not all adventures end like we’d like them to.

Listening to “Jungleland”, I wasn’t sure if our “Thunder Road” hero at the beginning of the album had actually gotten out of town, or just realized that town was a lot bigger and full of adventure than he’d realized.  At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter – our jungles will always be part of us, whether we drive as fast as we can away from them or just settle down and offer that barefoot girl a cold beer and the promise of a tender night.

I came into this review expecting a three star experience, but for making me appreciate the taste of warm beer in my mouth, and reminding me how great the wind feels in your hair the first day you truly drive somewhere, I give “Born to Run” the full four.

Best tracks:   Thunder Road, Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out, Born to Run, Jungleland

CD Odyssey Disc 573: The Chieftains

It was a strange walk home.  Somewhere between my office and my house the power went out.  The descending darkness made me enjoy the winter wonderland around me (a rare snow day here in Victoria).  This next album was a nice soundtrack to the experience.

Finding my way around my darkened home was less fun, but having grown up in a rural community I am used to power failures in the winter that go on for days.  Not that I’m welcoming a zombie apocalypse, but forty-five minutes without power is nothing.

Disc 573 is…. The Best of the Chieftains

Artist: The Chieftains

Year of Release: 1992 but music from 1977 to 1979

What’s up with the Cover? Some very bad fashion and some even worse haircuts, none worse than the guy seated in the middle.  For these guys, it is music before style.  An incredibly long way before style.

How I Came To Know It:  My friend Kelly bought me this one year as a birthday present.  I have a lot of music and I can be tricky to buy for, but Kelly always manages to stretch my horizons.  Not that I didn’t already know Celtic folk music, but I had somehow missed the Chieftains, and Kelly made up for that.  Thanks! 

How It Stacks Up:  ‘best of’ albums don’t stack up.

Rating:  I don’t rate ‘best of’ albums either.  It isn’t fair to the other records, and makes them feel bad.

When I first got seriously into folk music in the early nineties I would often wax poetic about how it was the most life-affirming music I’d ever heard.  The songs are about people celebrating the everyday, or everyday people rising above tragic personal circumstances.  Folk music was a kind friend to me then, putting a spring in my step when I most needed one.  That joyous feeling came flooding back into me like an old friend as I listened to this collection of Chieftains songs.

The first thing that must be noted is these guys are all masters of their chosen instruments.  Each of these songs is a flurry of notes, each one precise and perfect, and each instrument precise as it plays off its neighbor.  The Chieftains are famous for their musical prowess, so this will be nothing new to hard-core fans of the band, but as a casual fan - I only have this one compilation album - it left a serious impression on me.

In terms of singing voices, I don’t terribly appreciate their overly rustic approach, but the album is almost entirely instrumental, so no harm done.  In fact, out of twelve tracks, I think you hear voice only two or three times, and on each occasion it is only a small part of the song.

Everywhere else you are buoyed along by the fiddles of Sean Keane and Martin Fay, and the tin whistles of Paddy Moloney and Mick Tubridy.  Moloney is the band’s leader and does the majority of the writing and arranging.  He does a masterful job of both. The notes all land just where your heart wants them to, at just the right time, which is exactly what you want from a folk song.

The songs filled me with a positive energy that carried me not only happily to and from work each day, but set me in a kind and generous mood throughout the day as well.  At first I thought it was because the music was so perfectly suited to a crisp autumn day, but on the walk home I realized if it had been a rainy spring day, or a beating hot summer day it would have felt just as fitting.

The music is lively and the songs have fun and whimsical titles to match their mood.  If you are looking for your folk music to reference the ordinary lives of people, then you can’t do much better than “Boil the Breakfast Early,” although that particular song is a grim reminder of the type of cooking you can expect in Ireland.  Other favourite titles (although not necessarily songs) include “Oh! The Breeches Full of Stitches” and “The Dogs Among the Bushes” both of which sound like stories that are hilarious only if you were there.

Despite no words, the music conveys every bit of emotion intended.  “O’Sullivan’s March,” with its bodhran-driven beginning makes you feel like you are marching off to battle, with just the right mix of duty, homesickness, and nervous excitement. “Sea Image” makes you feel like you are an able seaman working on a ship, braiding rope, swabbing decks and setting sail.  If both sound more than a touch too romantic for reality, that is their intent.

Although labeled “Best Of” this record is a fairly tight snapshot of time for the band, with all the songs coming from three albums that were released from 1977 through 1979.  These albums – like most Chieftains albums – have the less than imaginative titles of “The Chieftains 7,” “The Chieftains 8,” and the positively verbose “The Chieftains 9:  Boil the Breakfast Early.”

As a result the music has a nice cohesive feel to it, and gave me a better appreciation for the band than if they had covered a wider range of time.

Celtic folk records often end with a track or two that are medleys of a bunch of different songs, and the Chieftains do the same on this best of effort.  “Chase the Windmill” is the first, and it is a bit uneven, but the second medley (and last track) is “The Wind That Shakes the Barley/The Reel With the Beryle” which delivers an enthusiastic energy to close things out and leave you wanting more.

In terms of wanting more, I’m not sure I’m ready to delve into the Chieftains discography any more seriously, but I really enjoyed this compilation album.  Although I only put it on rarely, I’m never disappointed when I do.

Best tracks:   Up Against the Buachalawns, Friel’s Kitchen, O’Sullivan’s March, Sea Image, The Job of Journeywork, The Wind that Shakes the Barley/The Reel with the Beryle

CD Odyssey Disc 572: Uriah Heep

I’ve had a long day and I’m ready to have a new album, so let’s get to this.  The CD Odyssey continues, as I randomly work my way through my whole damned music collection.  Here is the latest leg of the journey.

Disc 572 is…. The Magician’s Birthday

Artist: Uriah Heep

Year of Release: 1972

What’s up with the Cover? A ‘kind of’ naked magician (although he may be wearing socks; it’s unclear) prepares to do battle with some kind of monochrome Landscape Demon.  If you know the album you’ll know the magician’s most powerful spell is ‘an impenetrable fortress of love’, which might explain the flower girl in the centre left of the painting.  I find this cover delightfully ridiculous, kind of like Uriah Heep’s music.

How I Came To Know It:  My friend Spence put me on to the band via the album “Demons and Wizards” (reviewed back at Disc 310).  I bought “The Magician’s Birthday because it came out the same year, and so I expected it would have a similar sound. 

How It Stacks Up:  I only have two Uriah Heep albums.  Of the two, “Demons and Wizards is the better record.

Rating:  2 stars but almost 3

Listening to this album was a reminder that perceiving time as divided by decades is an arbitrary mental trick we play on ourselves.  Just like a computer, our mind needs things parceled up into smaller, more manageable bits and we use ideas like ‘the sixties’ or ‘the seventies’ to help accomplish that for all kinds of things like political eras, movies and yes, music.  I even do it on the sidebar of this very blog.

“The Magician’s Birthday” definitely includes a lot to what we think of as seventies music, including pounding riffs and the soaring vocals that later in the decade would give way to metal.  However, the songs have more in common with sixties progressive rock than anything else.  The music ambles around those riffs quite a lot, and the almost spoken word style of vocalist David Byron are very much rooted in the hippie scene of the late sixties.

Musically, the record has its moments, particularly the driving guitar and high pitched vocal wailing that launches the track “Sunshine.”  If the band was trying to capture the power of the morning sun newly breaking on the ground (and I think they were) they succeed admirably.

Unfortunately a lot of the time, the band is more focused on coming up with clever ideas than keeping a song consistently powerful.  The next track, “Spider Woman” has a very promising beginning in a similar vein to “Sunshine” (minus the high vocals) but halfway in the band lets the song descend into a muddy guitar solo that sounds more like the band jamming than a completed song.  It is a song that is either over-written or not finished, and it’s hard to tell which.  It is too bad, because the guitar riff in the chorus is sublime.

The lyrics on this record are truly ridiculous.  Sometimes they are tolerable, particularly when the band wraps themselves in silly fantasy, like these from “Tales”:

“No thought of sleep ever dwells upon

The wise man’s mind

Some task or audience stealing every

Moment of his time.”

But often when they try to get serious it only makes it worse.  From “Rain”:

“It’s raining outside but that’s not unusual

But the way that I’m feeling is become usual.”

Wow.  Sometimes it rains and it is not unusual.  In fact it is…usual.  Painfully bad and more aggravating by the fact that the melody he sings them with would ordinarily be quite pretty, but I can’t get past just how bad that is.  Later the rain becomes symbolic of his tears, because – metaphor!

The album does have one classic rock song on it, “Sweet Lorraine.” It starts with a crazed organ that sounds like an alien ray gun going off, tripping straight into a tiny slice of funky guitar that Bootsy Collins would be proud of.  Then it switches gears again, launching into a hard rock earworm, as Byron invites his girl Lorraine to take a magic potion with him and head out on a trip to his cosmic playground. Here I don’t think any metaphor is intended.  Even the drumming on this track is killer.  Near the end, the ray gun organ returns, but this time it is slowed down and in a minor key and sounds more like the music you hear as you enter Dracula’s castle in a Hammer film. All of this is accomplished in a brisk 4:15. 

In the end, I had to choose between giving this album three stars for its musicianship and bravery (and “Sweet Lorraine”) or knock it down to only two stars on account of its lack of direction and God-awful lyrics.  In the end, I decided to let the title track decide the matter – all ten plus progressive minutes of it.

The song, “The Magician’s Birthday,” starts with all the promise of “Sunshine,” a half-funky, half-rock riff as they sing about some weird magician character and his birthday party.  The party is “in the forest, but not so far away” so that was promising.  I found myself hoping there would be cake and fireworks.

Instead, a minute and a half in the song descends into a kazoo solo (yes, the kazoo), with a chorus singing “Happy Birthday” to the magician. That goes on for about a minute before returning to a proggy section that sounds like the guitar player and the drummer were fighting about who should do something next.  The guitar eventually wins, and proceeds to lay down the most aimless ambling four minute guitar solo I’d heard in some time.

The song ends with a duel between some evil wizard (who I assume was not invited to the party, and showed up out of spite) and our hero the magician.  The evil one sends the magician fire and nightmares, but our hero turns it into a stream and dreams.  The magician triumphs with the aforementioned ‘impenetrable fortress of love.’  The song then ends with some strange falsetto singing.  The pretty riff at the beginning never returns.  Also, at no point is there cake.  Worst. Party. Ever.

For “Sweet Lorraine” alone, I enjoy this record, and it has some other good spots as well, but I wouldn’t recommend it unless you really dig progressive sixties and seventies rock.  I do dig them, but progressive music needs more direction than this to work.  As for the title track, if you want a good song about battling wizards, I recommend Rush’s “The Necromancer” off the excellent album “Caress of Steel” which is longer, proggier, and yet at no point features the kazoo.

Best tracks:   Sunrise, Sweet Lorraine.