Month: December 2010

Most bands that comprised San Francisco’s psychedelic scene circa 1967’s Summer Of Love consisted of folkies gone electric (the Grateful Dead, Country Joe & The Fish, Jefferson Airplane). Moby Grape was one very notable exception.

The quintet’s most lauded attributes were that all five members sang and wrote and did both exceedingly well on its self-titled 1967 album – easily one of the finest rock debuts ever. But the band didn’t give anything up in the instrumental department either. Each of Grape’s

three guitarists had a specific role – Skip Spence playing strong rhythm, Peter Lewis fingerpicking, and Jerry Miller playing lead. Miller and drummer Don Stevenson were refugees from the Pacific Northwest’s high-octane scene and Sonics contemporaries like the Frantics. Lewis and bassist Bob Mosley were both from Southern California, where they played surf and soul music, respectively. But the band was formed around Spence, who’d quit the Airplane after drumming on their landmark debut to return to his first instrument.

Songs like “Ain’t No Use” nailed country- rock around the same time the Byrds were morphing from folk-rock to the new hybrid. Mosley summoned his inner Otis Redding on “Mr. Blues.” “Someday” could’ve been sneaked onto Beatles VI. But “Omaha” was the best of several twoand- a-half-minute masterpieces.

Last year’s The Place And The Time (also on Sundazed) compiled live material with demos and outtakes, and in ’78 three-fifths of the band released the lackluster Live Grape. But the first official collection of live recordings by the original lineup (including their entire incandescent Monterey Pop Festival set) illustrates another strength: how tight they were on stage. 

And, as if to show they could do more than craft catchy, compact ditties, the CD closes with 1966’s “Dark Magic,” a 17- minute instrumental raga on a par with any of their psychedelic contemporaries – the Dead notwithstanding.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Aug. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Hiatt is nothing if not prolific – not only releasing approximately 20 albums in 36 years, but writing virtually every song they included.

There’ve been some twists and turns and ups and downs – from the ’80s gloss of All Of A Sudden to the benchmark Bring The Family and its rootsy follow-up, Slow Turning, to the acoustic Crossing Muddy Waters.

The Open Road finds him fronting a quartet – the context in which he seems most comfortable (be it Ry Cooder, Nick Lowe, and Jim Keltner or the Goners – Sonny Landreth, David Ranson, and Kenneth Blevins). The same lineup as 2008’s Same Old Man is onboard – Hiatt’s guitar, Blevins’ drums, Patrick O’Hearn’s bass – but with North Mississippi Allstar Luther Dickinson’s lead guitar replaced by Doug Lancio. O’Hearn is best known for his work with Frank Zappa, while Lancio’s credits include Patty Griffin, Matthew Ryan, Nanci Griffith, and others. It’s an eclectic aggregation befitting Hiatt’s blend of country, R&B, rock, folk, blues, and gospel.

When Hiatt’s on, it’s difficult to rate one album over another – the quality is so consistently high. For instance, Bring The Family is widely accepted as his masterwork, but each of Slow Turning’s songs is a stick-in-your-head hit.

There may be nothing as melodic here as “Slow Turning” and no riffs as memorable as “Paper Thin,” but the material is still strong. And “Homeland,” about Native Americans, is as emotionally resonant as anything Hiatt has written (“And I claim this land I own/But it belongs to another people/They possess it in their bones”).

Lancio opts for Duane Eddy twang over its galloping rhythm, while “My Baby” and the blues “Like A Freight Train” feature his understated slide. Throughout, the quartet shows why there’s no need for ancillary guests, background singers, or sweetening of any kind. They play everything that’s necessary and add a little extra – just the right feel.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Aug. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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From the first raucous notes of “You Only Call Me (When You’re Drunk)” it’s obvious Scott Lindsey is invoking the spirit (and spirits!) of the late Gary Stewart.

There are certainly worse musical role models, and the song makes a great opener. Where he goes from here remains to be seen, though he sure as heck is on the right road. “Her In A Hurry” is an upbeat Hal Ketchum-style tune that makes good use of the matching of Lindsey and co-producer Phil Roselle’s guitars, Jon Yudkin’s fiddle, and Roselle doubling on banjo.

Lindsey’s voice has the right touch of growl when he slides into a Randy Travis-like rumble. He co-wrote nine of the 10 songs here and one gets the sense that, unlike many contemporary barely-country hit machines, he has done his honky-tonk time. It doesn’t hurt to have Roselle along; when he cuts loose on “I’ve Been Thinking ’Bout This All Day,” Roselle makes a good song all the better. He and Lindsey come across like a countrified Tom Petty and Mike Campbell. On the more formulaic “Backwoods,” Roselle brings an authoritative swagger to his slide playing, pushing a lesser song to a higher tier.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Aug. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Part of a new series that gathers unreleased live stuff, we find the first-generation country-rock band in transition.

Even amidst many personnel changes, Poco’s focus was on harmony vocals and the pedal steel of Rusty Young, one of the instrument’s pioneers. He could burn on a solo that was pure rock and roll and make the instrument sound like an organ by using a Leslie and other devices. Whether he was soloing or floating in the background of a country ballad, Young was the driving force behind this band. His dobro playing also highlights several cuts here and is tasty as it comes.

Lead guitarist Paul Cotton influenced the band in a stronger rock direction than it had in its first incarnation. A good example is the good-time boogie of “Railroad Days,” a stomper with tons of great playing from Cotton and Young. While the guitars form the basis of every song, gorgeous vocals from Richie Furay, Tim Schmit, and the rest of the fellas sound angelic, even on the up-tempo country tunes.

This band broke ground for a lot of bands in the ’70s, and this live record affords a chance to hear it at an early stage.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Aug. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Anders Osborne’s first effort for Alligator has a “tougher” feel. In the past, one may have mistaken him for a white soul singer, but here he looks (with beard and long hair) and sounds more like a rocker who has spent years on the road.

The music is soulful and heartfelt, but the change is evident from the beginning, with “On The Road to Charlie Parker,” with its big, fat guitar lick – loud and fuzz-toned – serving as the basis for the song. The melodic chorus and stomping solo back up the gritty vocals featured on every cut.

The guitar playing of Osborne and Pepper Kennan serves as the basis of every song, with production being more dense than his past work; “Darkness at the Bottom” has a tough lick and menacing lyric. “Love is Taking its Toll” is a loud, funky rock tune with biting, nasty slide from Osborne; his pop and soul side surfaces on cuts like “Acapulco,” with

a fine descending chord run and more soulful slide. “Meet Me in New Mexico” has great musical and lyrical hooks held together by interacting guitars.

While this record is a bit different for Osborne, it also shows a bit of a shift for Alligator. While they certainly still release plenty of blues records, this one shows they’re expanding their horizons.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Aug. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Dubbed “The Best British Rock Concert of All Time,” the June, 1990, event featured most of the superstar U.K. acts of the day – Genesis, Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, Phil Collins, Dire Straits, Tears for Fears, Elton John and Robert Plant… even ol’ Paul McCartney showed up. Depending on your views of ’80s rock, it was either an endless dance party or proof Hell had frozen over.

From the simple guitar arpeggio that kicks off Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” the party begins and this is one damn catchy tune. Next is Status Quo, the popular hard-rock band that never made it in America. This performance won’t change that, despite a spirited cover of CCR’s “Rockin’ All Over the World.” Cliff Richard & the Shadows turn in a good performance, but the accent is on Richard’s voice more than on Hank Marvin’s mighty red Strat. Robert Plant, then at the peak of his early solo career, puts on a rocking set featuring the underrated guitar ace Doug Boyle on “Hurting Kind” and “Tall Cool One.” Zep fans will enjoy the feisty reading of “Wearing and Tearing,” with Jimmy Page putting the moves on a red Les Paul Standard.

England’s biggest act of the time, Genesis gets a full 20 minutes to strut their stuff, from the sledgehammer beats of “Mama” (featuring some spacey lead licks from Mike Rutherford) to a Motown medley highlighting Phil Collins.

Disc 2 gets to the heart of the matter with Clapton, in the midst of a career resurrection, offering a bombastic reading of “Sunshine of Your Love,” marred only by an inexplicably long drum solo. Mark Knopfler takes the high road with Dire Straights, guiding the band through a cool, funky version of “Think I Love You Too Much” with a few tasty solos. Clapton guests and fares better than on his own solo tune.

The finale is Pink Floyd, playing The Wall classics “Comfortably Numb” and “Run Like Hell,” both sporting iconic David Gilmour solos and riffs. Ultimately, Knebworth feels more like a grand finale for ’80s British rock than anything fresh – many of these bands had a few good years left, but their best days were clearly behind them. And, in hindsight, maybe that was a good thing.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Aug. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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