Month: December 2010

Allison Moorer couples a pitch-perfect voice with an edge you rarely find in commercial country music. Her first recordings displayed a rustic rock-and-roll leaning you’d expect from someone with her looks and vocal abilities. But her migration to NYC with her husband, Steve Earle, has pushed Moorer to the grittier side of country.

Moorer wrote 12 of the 13 songs on Crows, and not a single one is a lightweight ditty. Even the song order and pacing aren’t typical for a country release. Instead of starting with an upbeat two-stepper, Moorer begins with the dark, Gothic-flavored ballad “Abalone Sky.”  This somber mood threads through most of the songs. Produced by R.S. Field, the sound is lush and lovingly nuanced. Some tunes even employ string sections. Guitar great Richard Bennett plays on two cuts and Joe McMahan adds electric guitar, steel guitar, and celestaphone. Moorer handles all lead and backing vocals, piano, and most of the acoustic guitar parts.

Many recording artists would play it safe when they released an album on a new label. But here, Moorer creates music that remains true to her muse – one who sweats and suffers in the real world rather than languishing in the Nashville’s mirror-ball fantasy land.

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

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Bayou Country
Green River
Willy And The Poor Boys
Cosmo’s Factory
Pendulum

It’s hard to imagine that anyone isn’t intimately familiar with Creedence’s catalog of seven albums, but that string began with their self-titled debut 40 years ago. That’s roughly the equivalent of two generations! So an entirely new audience wondering what “Creedence Song” John Fogerty is singing about could be introduced to one of America’s greatest-ever rock bands via these reissues. There are also the original CCR consumers, who seem to be equally in Fantasy’s sights, judging by the packaging.
Let’s address the latter group first.

These albums were released on remastered CDs in 2000. But then dangled in front of the same audience most likely to gobble them up was 2001’s six-disc Creedence Clearwater Revival box of, essentially, their complete recordings – going all the way back to the pre-Creedence Golliwogs and Tommy Fogerty & The Blue Velvets, and including two live albums. Decisions, decisions.

Now, to further work CCR completists into a lather, the band’s first six albums are remastered yet again, this time with previously unreleased bonus tracks on each, but their substandard swan song, Mardi Gras, isn’t invited to the party.

Those bonus tracks include live performances from ’69 to ’71; alternate takes; an experimental, promo-only single; and, most interesting, two studio jam sessions of CCR with Booker T. & The MG’s, from a 1970 TV special. Of course, these 22 tracks could have been pared down a bit to a single disc of rarities or expanded to a double-set – but that would be too easy.

Are they enough incentive for you to buy the Creedence catalog yet again if you already own the rest of it? Not really. Plus, although Mardi Gras was, as allmusic.com’s Stephen Thomas Erlewine accurately put it, “an unpretty end to a great band,” it’s got enough strong cuts (“Someday Never Comes,” “Sweet Hitch-Hiker”) to steer diehard fans towards the aforementioned box – especially considering the bargain price it can be nabbed for on Amazon.

Now to the uninitiated.

Do you start at the start or start with the best? That’s a tough call. But this many years after the fact, chronology isn’t as crucial. Creedence crammed a lot of creativity and evolution into a ridiculously short time span, reaching their high-water mark with their fifth effort, 1970’s Cosmo’s Factory. After hearing Fogerty-penned classics like “Who’ll Stop The Rain,” “Travelin’ Band,” “Run through The Jungle,” “Long As I Can See The Light,” and “Lookin’ Out My Back Door” (not to mention killer Bo Diddley, Elvis, Marvin Gaye, and Roy Orbison covers), you’ll probably want to check out the rest of the catalog – either an album at a time or by diving into the boxed set.

During the era of Clapton, Bloomfield, and Hendrix, Fogerty was somewhat of an odd man out on guitar. His tone was thin and trebly, not fat and sustainy, and paid homage to earlier rockers like Carl Perkins, Duane Eddy, and Steve Cropper. “Tombstone Shadow,” from Green River, is but one definitive example. His solos (as on the mega-hit “Proud Mary”) were worked out mini compositions, not extended improvisations. But in hindsight, while Clapton & Co. were rewriting the blues, Fogerty was the keeper of the rock and roll flame.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Dec. ’08 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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If you’re a blues fan and left-handed guitarist Eddy Clearwater’s name has remained unfamiliar over the course of his six-decade career, now’s the time to rectify that grievous error. If you’re looking for an introduction to great blues, West Side Strut is an excellent place to start.

Unlike blues giants who came north after World War II and electrified their rural music, Clearwater’s blues roots are wired directly into the power line. His fat, voluptuous tone shows a masterful command of the guitar as an electric instrument. He’s scary-swift, but his playing is deft and clean; never sacrificing emotion or depth for speed. Every note can be heard when Clearwater lays into a solo built of points on a line rising to a feverish peak. It’s hard to believe he can reach such heights in a recording studio without the extra juice the give and take a live performance provides.

Melody is an element that isn’t always a priority in contemporary blues. Clearwater makes it one, and his grasp of it, his ability to make complete songs – almost any of which here could be done as instrumental – elevate this album above the pack. Tempo is no obstacle; the fast ones are as tuneful as the rest. Listen to West Side Strut just once and you’ll wonder why Clearwater’s name isn’t respectfully spoken in the same breath with those of contemporaries Freddie King and fellow southpaw Otis Rush. But time spent contemplating the inexplicable justices of life and showbiz will just frustrate. That time is better spent under the spell of this great record. When that happens, a more easily answered question is bound to come up: how do you keep your feet from tapping when your heart is beating so fast?

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This article originally appeared in VG’s July. ’08 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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1964 was a good year for Chuck Berry. He hit number 10 on the pop charts with “No Particular Place To Go,” number 14 with “You Never Can Tell” and did pretty well with “Nadine” (23) and “Promised Land” (41). All were on the Chess label and all have proved as enduring as the iconic tunes that made his rep in the ’50s.

But when Berry moved to Mercury records in ’66, his hit-making mojo stayed behind. It wasn’t until he returned to Chess in 1969 (Back Home came in 1970) that he started to see the top of the heap again. In fact, he hit the top for the first time when a live “My Ding-a-Ling” became his first and only number one pop single. Another live one, “Reelin’ And Rockin’” would also chart. But the silly “My Ding-a-Ling” isn’t representative of Berry’s career or his second stint at Chess. This set should redeem him in the eyes of those who wrote him off after he disappeared from the radio and the charts and slipshod live performances had become his hallmark.

Have Mercy proves Berry still took himself seriously as a musician and recording artist, no matter how cynical, disillusioned, or angry he had become as a person and live performer. Several instrumentals – like “Gun” and “Flyin’ Home” – show his reputation as a brilliant, innovative guitarist was neither unjustified nor inflated. When he approaches the blues of Willie Dixon’s “I Just Want To Make Love to You” he’ll also surprise those who think he favored slickness over funkiness; “Here Today” shows the distinctions between R&B, rock and roll, blues, and country music are tenuous and, more important, irrelevant; even when recycling riffs and themes – as on “Rockin’” and “London Berry Blues” – he’s still first-rate and listenable. And he’s fresh and inventive on live takes of his classic numbers or while reinterpreting songs associated with other artists, like “Hi Heel Sneakers” (which he calls “Heel Sneakers”) or “Shake Rattle and Roll.”

Despite having suffered through some likely undeserved time in prison and seeing his musical legacy claim-jumped by upstarts, during the period covered by Have Mercy, Chuck Berry was still one of rock and roll’s most valid and vital artists.

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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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Had fate and negligence not interfered, Jimi Hendrix would have turned 65 in 2008 – only five years older than Bruce Springsteen, four older than Carlos Santana, two older than John Fogerty, and 18 years younger than B.B. King, all of whom are still going strong.

Though we can only assume Jimi would still have the fire, creativity, and skill that made him shine so bright, it’s stupefying to imagine hearing him jam with his musical fathers (King, Guy), brothers (Santana, Clapton, Jeff Beck), and “sons,” some of whom deliver blazing versions of his songs here.

Mixed by Eddie Kramer, this DVD combines selections from San Diego and Seattle stops on the ’07 Experience Hendrix tribute tour. Though the dream version of this gig would climax with Jimi and the late Stevie Ray Vaughan in a jam, there to pick up the slack are Longtime Howlin’ Wolf guitarist Hubert Sumlin, Buddy Guy, Mick Taylor, and Paul Rodgers with Vaughan’s Double Trouble bandmates Tommy Shannon and Chris Layton and the Experience’s Mitch Mitchell and Billy Cox. Rodgers sings his butt off, cementing his position as one of rock and roll’s great vocalists. And Cox, Jimi’s bassist of choice, reveals his underexposed vocal talent on “Freedom.”

Sumlin and Guy – who is unabashedly respectful and deferential to Sumlin onstage – carry themselves like the pros they are. Guy – 71 at the time of filming – teases, tantalizes, and satisfies on “Hootchie Coochee Man” and “Five Long Years” with his spot-on imitations of Muddy Waters’ gestures and style. His voice, reminiscent of Joe Tex, along with his still-dazzling chops, and Sumlin – then 75 – is confidently humble, playing with flashes of what made him such an influential part of blues guitar history.

Younger players also have spectacular moments. Kenny Wayne Shepherd is all swagger on drop-dead versions of “Come On (Let The good Times Roll),” “Voodoo Chile” and “I Don’t Live Today.” Kid Rock’s Keith Olsen brings more than a little Detroit sting to “Stone Free” with Mitchell, Cox, and Andy Aledort. If Olsen is a hair behind some of the other players in smooth virtuosity, he makes up for it the enthusiastic joy of a guy with something to (successfully) prove. Less cocky but equally impressive is Indigenous and its take on “Hear My Train A Comin’.” Guitarist Mato Nanje gives Taylor a run for his money on “Red House.” Indigenous, with Guy, Shepherd, and Eric Gales, provide the brightest highlights on a stone blast of a disc that’s loaded with them.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Dec. ’08 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Ray Davies has never been one to pull any punches. Ever since his days as the leader of the Kinks he’s been known to go after plenty of targets, both directly and with clever wordplay. Here he appears to be going after much of the world, or at least his homeland of England. He also manages to get in  fine asides about his shooting during a mugging in 2004 in New Orleans, and, as you’d expect, the dynamics between men and women.

It doesn’t take long for Davies to let us know what he’s thinking. The opener, “Vietnam Cowboys” talks about globalization. The electric guitar of Patrick Buchanan matches the angst, anger, and disdain displayed by Davies. And Davies’ sentiment toward today’s world is purveyed in the title cut, where he thinks back to a time when a street may have been unique, but is now lined with the same retail stores you see whether you’re in a small town in Idaho or New York City.

Davies references getting shot on cuts like “No One Listen,” and mentions everyone from the police department to the Dalai Lama to Kofi Annan. Among the album’s biting sarcasm are pieces of genuine whimsy. “Morphine Song” is clever and funny, and goes back to his recovery from the gunshot. And while the state of the world may be his preoccupation, there’s plenty of music about relationships. “Peace in Our Time” is about a couple trying to resolve their issues, while “One More Time” is a chimey ballad with a lyric that’s both wistful and bitter.

Plenty of the rockers we grew up with have run out of steam, but Davies’ music continues to grow.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s July. ’08 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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