Month: May 2004

Ronnie Montrose is known less for his guitar capabilities than for fronting a mid-’70s hard rock band that featured an unknown lead singer named Sammy Hagar. Still, Montrose released a quartet of heavy albums before heading into solo-artist obscurity. This new collection from Rhino features 18 tracks selected by Montrose, who also provides commentary in the liner notes. Running chronologically, the set begins with the self-titled Montrose album from ’73.

Ably produced by Ted Templeman, Montrose burns from start to finish. Every song is a heavy rocker, and production values are excellent. As with many sophomore efforts, Montrose’s second was more stylistically diverse, a fact reflected in this package, as well. Unfortunately, the songs weren’t as strong, but they show a band maturing, stylistically.

Hagar had departed by the release of Warner Bros. Presents Montrose in ’75 and the band seemed particularly lifeless. Produced by Ronnie Montrose, the record was poorly mixed and featured mostly mid-tempo songs. The best cut on the album, the ethereal “Sailor,” isn’t included here. Shame!

Montrose got back on his rockin’ shoes for Jump on It , in ’76, produced by Jack Douglas of Aerosmith fame. The three uptempo songs here show the band had improved greatly, but fans had apparently given up.

Rounding out this compilation are three cuts from Montrose’s recent solo effort, Mean , which capture to good effect his ability to create spacey melodic music. Sound on this remastered best-of is uniformly excellent, and the liner notes are complete and include shots of a number of Ronnie’s custom guitars. Some of Montrose’s best guitar playing came with his ’80s band, Gamma, and while none of those cuts are included here, a Gamma retrospective is close to completion.

In his recent VG interview, Tim O’Brien mentioned that his next release would be more of a “songwriter” CD. Instead, his latest, Two Journeys, is an extension of his album, The Crossing, which drank deep from his Irish background for its musical inspiration. Two Journeys also shows the strong influence of Mother Ireland not only in its songs, but personnel as well.

Maura O’Connell, Laoise Kelly, Karan Casey, Paddy Keenan, Kevin Burke, and John Williams are all Irish roots musicians, or musicians with Irish roots who participate on Two Journeys.

To discover what constitutes an Irish musical influence, you have merely to listen to Tim’s rendition of Paul McCartney’s “Norwegian Wood.” Beginning with the Paddy Keenen’s pipes introduction, followed by Tim’s loping mandolin work, the tune is infused with a rich Celtic aroma that settles on you like the glow of a good single-malt whisky. Six of the 14 cuts on Two Journeys are O’Brien originals, while five are his arrangements of traditional material. His treatment of “Demon Lover” and “What Does the Deep Sea Say” are especially successful. Both possess a paradoxical combination of the diametrically opposed influences of tradition and innovation. They are familiar, yet alien, encased in O’Brien’s Celtic arrangements, like vintage wine in brand new “olde style” bottles.

Although it was principally recorded at Nashville’ Groundstar studios, some tracks were done at The Mill in Naas, County Kildare. The overall sonic effect is intimate and warm, like an old wool blanket. No matter how dense the mix, all the instruments can be heard, and they retain their original natural harmonic timbre.

O’Brien has made a science of creating concept albums where the music is still superior to the unifying principle. His Dylan tribute, Red on Blonde, is among the best recordings of Dylan material not done by ol’ Bob himself. Two Journeys is similar in that it is a superlative album of Celtic music produced by a guy who is still principally a bluegrass musician. Perhaps Tim O’Brien really is Irish… Check out howdyskies.com.

Two fallacies that invariably arise in discussions of the Yardbirds: 1) declaring them the fathers of psychedelic music and/or heavy metal; 2) focusing on their colossal lead guitar lineage at the expense of their collective person
ality and talent as a band. Because the important aspect to remember about the former is that, while the Yardbirds did indeed presage these and other movements, they were impossible to peg precisely because they refused categorization – putting pedal to the metal on a Bo Diddley romp one minute, incorporating Gregorian chants the next. And while it’s easy to be blinded by the fact that a single band could boast Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and Jimmy Page in succession, each band member (bassist Paul Samwell-Smith, drummer Jim McCarty, rhythm guitarist Chris Dreja, and singer-harpist Keith Relf) was essential to the band’s sound and direction. And, man, could they play.

The element that these pioneers really brought to the fore of rock and roll was improvisation. Not that they invented the concept, but at the height of the British Invasion you had George Harrison’s Atkins-ish break in “All My Loving” (or Keith Richards’ Chuck Berry derivations on “It’s All Over Now”) one moment, and then Jeff Beck saying, “Stand back and let me rip your head off” the next. The guitarist as gunslinger, as hero, as icon – as God – was a direct result of the Yardbirds’ in-your-face attitude.

Rhino’s two-disc compendium is the closest-to-definitive collection of a band that’s been woefully under-represented on CD. Among its 52 tracks there are highlights aplenty and very few clinkers. My main frustration is that the package isn’t maybe one disc larger (Rhino recently devoted four discs to Buffalo Springfield), but producer Gary Stewart was trying to home in on the “essence” of the band, not serve up a “complete recordings,” and most of his choices are on the money. An added bonus are the extensive, insightful liner notes by the late, great Cub Koda, with various “Yardbirds Fun Facts” (of Beck’s solo on “I’m Not Talking,” the Cubmaster writes, “There are guitar players who will tell you that you can’t bend strings this far; they would be wrong.”).

In their original incarnation as blues interpreters, the Yardbirds had the rare ability to not only give a song its own stamp but often transcend and/or surpass the original source. Ignoring their worst-of-all-versions “Boom Boom” demo, which unfortunately opens this anthology, the group shows this uncanny knack on their first single, cut in March 1964. As cool as Billy Boy Arnold’s hypnotic recording of “I Wish You Would” is, the Yardbirds’ energetic cover – soaked in reverb with a mini jam session, all in 2:17 – is at least its equal.

Likewise, “I Ain’t Got You” was a so-so track in the Jimmy Reed catalog prior to it becoming the vehicle for some of Clapton’s most hair-raising early work. The then 19-year-old’s 25 seconds of aggression definitely raised the blues and rock guitar stakes.

As Koda points out, “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl” is not the Sonny Boy Williamson blues – an additional Fun Fact (#13): its source was apparently a 1961 Argo track by “Don and Bob,” whoever they were.

Here, Clapton’s fat, high-volume tone and sustain are unlike anything that had gone before – bending a single note 30 times in a row before releasing into a melodic tag, and getting out in 21 seconds flat. The effect is like he’s gliding over the locomotive groove the band is laying down underneath him. The instrumental shuffle “Got To Hurry” was Clapton’s homage to Freddie King and resulted in a call from John Mayall after Eric split the band.

Sadly, only four of the 10 songs from Five Live Yardbirds, the band’s onstage debut LP, are included. On “Smokestack Lightnin’” they again transform a blues classic (this time by Howlin’ Wolf) into something wholly their own, and introduce the “rave-up,” where they completely deviate from the song for an extensive jam. This is probably the definitive track from the group’s early period.

When Jeff Beck was enlisted in early ’65, he wasted no time in staking his claim. Clapton’s influences (B.B. and Freddie King, Chuck Berry) were clear; he just took them to the next level (and cranked his Vox AC-30 to a much higher volume). But Beck rarely resembled anyone; he was absolutely his own man, a true original. His influences (including Buddy Guy, Les Paul, and Gene Vincent sideman Cliff Gallup) were about as discernible as T-Bone Walker’s influence was in Albert King’s resultant style.

For their follow-up to “For Your Love,” the band went to the same composer, Graham Gouldman (later of 10cc), for “Heart Full of Soul.” Fun Fact #14: the band first attempted to have a sitar player they’d found in an Indian restaurant play the now-famous riff, but 4/4 time was totally foreign to him, so Beck (with the aid of his new fuzztone stompbox) simulated a sitar-like feel on guitar. The Beck period, which lasted a year and a half and comprises roughly half of Ultimate’s repertoire, was the group’s most creative. As before, the band outstripped the source (rockabilly Johnny Burnette’s Rock ‘N’ Roll Trio) with “Train Kept A-Rollin’,” featuring Jeff’s in-the-groove blues licks (and is there a more classic riff in all of rock?). The bridge to “Evil Hearted You” is one of the few times Beck sneaks in a reference to his idols – a speedy little Cliff Gallup pull-off. “Shapes of Things” serves as a worthy canvas for more Beck psychedelia. But on the group’s tour de force, Bo Diddley’s “I’m A Man,” Beck pulled out all stops, beginning with some fuzzy, sustained bends before resorting to scratching, scraping, and chicken noises – pure sound effects; again, unheard of in 1965 (and check McCarty’s kick drum work after he double-clutches the shuffle into double-time). A bonus for Yardofiles: the unedited stereo mix of “You’re a Better Man Than I” includes an additional 45 seconds.

The band’s first sessions recorded as an album, and featuring all originals, netted their high-water mark, titled Over Under Sideways Down in the States, Roger The Engineer in England. In the midst of moody, chant-based numbers like “Turn Into Earth” (with Beck’s lead sounding like it’s coming from a couple blocks away) and the splendidly surreal “Hot House of Omagararshid,” Beck inserted a couple of traditional reworkings, “The Nazz Are Blue” and “Jeff’s Boogie.” In the former, a revamp of “Dust My Broom,” he sustains a note for 10 seconds (try that at home); for the latter, based on Chuck Berry’s “Guitar Boogie,” he tips his trick-filled hat to Les Paul.

Jimmy Page, hired on bass when Samwell-Smith quit to concentrate on producing, moved to guitar (with Dreja inheriting the bass chair) when Beck had to miss some gigs in ’66. The subsequent dual-guitar Page-Beck period lasted long enough for only three songs – the psychedelic barrage “Happenings Ten Years Time Ago,” its flipside “Psycho Daisies” (sung by Beck), and a rewrite of “Train Kept A-Rollin’” for the film Blow-Up, “Stroll On.” Then Beck departed, and things changed considerably. The quintet was now a quartet, and instead of a bandmate (Paul) producing, hitmaker Mickie Most was brought onboard. While this arrangement’s one resulting album, Little Games, showed the band’s adventurous nature – from a “Rollin’ and Tumblin’” clone with Page on slide to Pagey’s violin-bow theatrics on “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor” – it was less organic, more contrived, and perhaps a bit self-indulgent. Page’s showcase, which he cut solo without the band’s knowledge, was the acoustic “White Summer,” a DADGAD, Indian-tinged nod to British fingerstylists such as Bert Jansch, John Renbourn, and Davy Graham. Not included is the futuristic, tape-loopy “Glimpses” and “Smile on Me,” which features some of Page’s most over-the-top blues playing.

But quibbles aside, I haven’t been able to extract this set from the CD player since its arrival. Ultimate? Not quite. Recommended? Absolutely. Thanks to Greg Russo, author of Yardbirds: The Ultimate Rave-Up (recommended reading) for his help in preparing this review.

This CD, recorded over a two-year period, spotlights the world class work of the legendary T-Birds frontman, but of interest to the readers of this publication would be the four – count ’em, four – great guitarists lending support.

You kind of get the feeling that this level of musicianship is hiding around every corner in your local blues hood. That’s definitely the case in at least the Phoenix and Los Angeles areas.

Rusty Zinn should be familiar to the devotees of the current indigo renaissance. Well-established as a leader in his own right, his Al Casey/Bill Jennings-inspired lead work on this album is some of his strongest to date. Zinn’s articulation of the early-’50s styles rivals any player, new or established.

Space limitations preclude writing much about the other three but, suffice it to say, Wilson has no weak musical links. Messers Billy Flynn, with Zinn on the Phoenix set, and Kirk Fletcher, and Tray Gonyea on the California date cover the blues basses with style and aplomb. Whether the song is inspired by the work of a young Riley King or the late Luther Tucker, these guitarists are deeply versed in all the blues idioms, in these instances the majority of the influences would be post-war.

Wilson is doing what he should at this stage of his career. He has nothing left to prove and is as always at the top of his game, but is now surrounding himself with extraordinary young players who obviously inspire him. He is responding to their respectful challenges by giving them plenty of space to stretch, and that they do with stylistic respect to a leader who has been responsible for leaving the litter of many smoking joints along the blue highway.

This new collection chronicles the rise of Muddy Waters from tractor driver to the king of the blues. It presents 36 of his formative first recordings on two CDs covering his debut years from 1941 to ’50.

Included here are a sample of Muddy’s premiere recordings, captured by folklore collector Alan Lomax for the Library of Congress in 1941 and known as the famous “Stovall Plantation” sides. They show Muddy at his best: rollicking blues with a sensitive edge, hot guitar rhythms, and vocals that send a chill down your spine.

Inspired by hearing himself on record, Muddy moved from Mississippi to Chicago and soon recorded a series of hits for the visionary Aristocrat/Chess label. These early songs are all here, from “I Can’t Be Satisfied” to “Rolling Stone.”

These songs have been collected in other places, of course. But this set has better sound than some and includes a nice liner book with an overview of Muddy’s career.

In its original incarnation, the Spencer Davis Group was one of the best R&B or pop bands of the British Invasion. Unfortunately, that incarnation only stayed together long enough to record two albums. Fortunately, Sundazed has reissued both on CD, each with eight bonus tracks.

The reason the lineup was so short-lived was, of course, because it was inevitable that the youngest but most talented member of the band, Steve Winwood, would take the reigns of his own group, Traffic, and an eventual solo career. But while with Davis, this triple-threat phenom (singer/songwriter/instrumentalist) recorded some truly astounding music, including the hits “Gimme Some Lovin’” and “I’m a Man” – which only becomes more astonishing when you consider that he was in his mid teens at the time.

Ironically, Winwood’s formidable vocal and keyboard strengths overshadow his guitar playing in discussions of the British blues revival, but a listen to “Stevie’s Blues,” cut when he was 17, clearly shows he earns a spot alongside Clapton, Peter Green, and Mick Taylor. A warm, distorted tone, perfectly intonated bends, and a visceral intensity belie his age or nationality.

“On the Green Light,” its title obviously a nod to Booker T & The MGs, gives Winwood a chance to trade solos with himself, on Hammond organ and lead guitar – atop a swinging groove provided by drummer Peter York and brother Muff Winwood, the bassist pumping away on the aforementioned hits and “Keep On Running.” The latter displays the Jamaican influence of songwriter Jackie Edwards, whom the band also tapped for “I Can’t Stand It” and “When I Come Home” – both co-written by Steve.

As for Davis himself, he supplies the folk element of the group, as on his solo piece “Midnight Special” (the American folk song, mysteriously credited to him) and “The Hammer Song,” with his acoustic 12-string backing another fine Winwood vocal.

The band is first-rate, but lest there be any doubt who makes it so special, check out the quartet’s cover of the Righteous Brothers’ “My Babe.” The verses are sung by the group, with Stevie transforming the ditty as he blasts in on the choruses. Imagine the Kingsmen backing Ray Charles.

Okay, I confess. Somehow this one slid in under the radar. Released in late summer, it features Setzer back in a trio setting, basically just cutting loose, guitar-wise and vocally. And let’s face it, any album that has him playing this much guitar should be brought to the attention of players everywhere.

The band (named after Elvis’ television special) has the same setup that catapulted Setzer to stardom in the ’80s; guitar, bass, and drums. You’d assume that mean rockabilly, and you’d be right. Cuts like “Blue Café,” “Hot Rod Girl,” and “(The Legend of) Johnny Kool (Part 2)” give Setzer ample room to show off his chops. In fact, the chord workout in “Hot Rod Girl” is a jaw-dropper.

And there’s lots more here. A streak of country runs through some cuts. “5 Years, 4 Months, 3 Days” is basically a re-write of the Dave Dudley classic “Six Days On the Road.” Setzer’s baritone guitar solo and cutting fills propel this one. “8-Track” is a monster of a truckers song that features an unbelievable chord solo, a killer single-line solo, and… yodeling. No, really. And, it cooks. “59” harkens back to his Knife Feels Like Justice days with a rockin’ beat and imaginative solo. The ballad “Dreamsville” lets Brian show off some chops and sounds that are… well, dreamy. Wrapping up the album is a take on “Malaguena.” About all I can say is, “Yikes!” It’s a tour de force.

I’ve always thought Setzer was one of the truly great guitar players of his generation. And after hearing this one, I don’t doubt that a bit. Grow those sideburns, grab your leathers, and pick up this one. Excellent album, brilliant player.

Well, I do agree, the blues ain’t pretty. But svelte torch singer Janiva Magness sure is a sight for sore eyes.
In addition to belting out the blues and fronting her own band in Southern California, she plays that wacky percussion corset known in Zydeco circles as a “Da Rubboard,” or da Madonna (you get the picture, a form-fitting corset of steel with large – ummmm – protuberances in front, and a rippled texture, with which she strokes her fingerpicks on a Cajun beat)!

This is not her first recording, but certainly her most self-assured, and Janiva has a flock of distinguished guest artists to sweeten the mix, including red hot guitarist David “Kid” Ramos, husband and talented bassist/saxman/guitarist Jeff Turmes, and “Brother Red” Young on Hammond B3. This album rocks, from the can’t-stop-tappin’-yer-feet rockabilly of “Blues Ain’t Pretty,” title tune written by Turmes, to the irresistible minor blues “Nobody Loves You Like Me,” featuring hot licks by Ramos on guitar and a lusty vocal reminiscent of Bonnie Raitt at her nittiest and grittiest.

The performances of all ensemble members are top-notch, making this a blues album to cherish and play over and over again. –