Tag: Rock

Neu! – Neu! 2

Neu! 2

Neu! – Neu! 2 Brain 1028 (1973)

Neu!-beat is as distinctive as anything to emerge from the 1970s.  It also became essentially the standard for pop music decades later. Unfortunately for Neu!, their record label and most of the record-buying public didn’t care much at the time.

Neu! was a splinter faction of Kraftwerk. Their music stands entirely on its own though. Neu! is at least as important as their parent group. Their second album volleys back and forth between the influence of Klaus Dinger and Michael Rother. The tension on Neu! 2 has anarchistic rebellion matched against catchy electro-dance rhythms.

The often-told story of how the record company gave up the album and left Neu! to re-edit and remix three tracks to fill out the disc is fitting but unsurprising — even the album cover is a “remix” of sorts from their debut. It certainly didn’t help their popularity that Neu! was an instrumental band — one that maybe fell between the cracks of rock and roll and avant-garde modern classical.

“Für Immer (Forever)” begins the first of two suites. The chaos creeps in slowly. “Spitzenqualität” has swirling drums and electronic sounds to rival Karlheinz Stockhausen (most assuredly an influence). With “Lila Engel (Lilac Angel),” the processed vocals and aggressive beats channel Neu!’s angst into creative salvation.  Neu! has pulled you from a passing experience to something more total.  The duo intrigues the listener as they wear away expectations.

“Neuschnee 78” (one of the remixed songs) begins the second suite with an almost inappropriate calm. When “Neuschnee” arrives a few songs later, the second side opener suddenly seems paranoid in retrospect.  “Super” also provides the remixes “Super 16” and “Super 78.”  Each progression of remixes actually starts with the remixes and works backwards.

Neu! 2 adds layers then strips them away.  Adding just a tiny piece to existing material puts the entire thing in a new perspective.  The duo then zooms towards what debatably is the essence of the songs. The album’s most unique feature is the way it makes these athletic transformations wholly within itself.  While precision is what makes this album what it is, at the same time the music does away with that which is formal and regulated.

Neu! was just ahead of their time.  Neu! 2 is as likable as it is cool, and it’s pretty cool.

Lucio Battisti – Anima latina

Anima latina

Lucio Battisti – Anima latina Numero Uno DZSLN 55675 (1974)

Here’s an album that seems to be an unlikely Rosetta Stone for much of European rock and pop of the 1970s.  Anima latina (“Latin Soul”) is perhaps Lucio Battisti’s most acclaimed album.  He was a big pop star in his native Italy, though internationally (especially outside Europe) he was and is less well known.  The music ranges from (symphonic) prog rock to Canterbury Sound psychedelic jazz-rock, with ambitious, arty meanderings, laced through with understated brass horn charts and diffuse synthesizer figures.  Most of the songs are over five minutes in length.  None are structured like catchy pop hits.

The opening “Abbracciala abbracciali abbracciati” sets the album off well.  This is high drama.  The effect is a bit like a darkened theater, a huge one, with an assemblage of musicians in an orchestra pit somewhere out of sight, but a lone singer in a dim spotlight delivers a searching, allusive and almost existential song in halting yet eloquently delivered statements.  There is sparse percussion.  Yet the drums are played with such pauses as to mean there is no real syncopated beat as such — duh(ch), duh, ____du-chashhh___.  Behind the drums, the song opens with a sustained but subdued synthesizer chord and a solitary trumpet (electronically processed most likely) playing long, faint notes that seem to move toward an unfinished statement, without ever realizing a melody.  There isn’t a whole lot of singing.  Battisti begins just by singing wordless sounds.  The singer isn’t so much a protagonist as someone who has stumbled into the song.  At least, every effort is made to make this the appearance.  There is never any doubt that this is a staged performance.  As the song continues, the drums and a bass provide more of a steady rhythm.  If there is a comparison for “Abbracciala abbracciali abbracciati,” it is perhaps Neil Young‘s opening to Tonight’s the Night (recorded before or at the same time but released after Anima latina), or the more frequent comparison of Robert Wyatt‘s Rock Bottom (released the same year).

The rest of the album ranges from spacey, swirling meditations to funkier tunes that get a decent groove going.  The album title alludes to a South American influence.  This is a subtle but important presence throughout the album.  The influence of samba, perhaps even tropicália, in the rhythms (“Due mondi,” “Gli uomini celesti (Ripresa),” “Macchina del tempo”) and some of the horns (“Anonimo,” which flirts with tropicália’s reverent/irreverent use of kitsch), and the burning intensity of Argentinian folk-rock (“Anima latina”), all make themselves felt.  Rather than the clinically calculated shifts in unusual time signatures and other technical feats that make a lot of prog- and jazz-rock kind of distant, even tedious, Anima latina leans on warm and organic rhythms to tie all the experiments and shifting concepts together.  That is crucial.  It lends a suppleness that gives the otherwise very arty aspirations of the album a beating heart.

If prog rock remains the core referent for the style of the album as a whole (and especially toward the end), it is worth noting that most of the guitars are acoustic.  There are no electric guitar heroes here, or flashiness of any kind really.  More than any one dazzling performance — even by Battisti — this is an album that succeeds based on its structure.  The ebb and flow of the songs, the deliberate pacing and wide open spaces emerging from the sonic fabric, anything that is the implication rather than the direct content — these are the things that make Anima latina captivating.  There isn’t one right way to hear this music.  In Criticism and Truth, Roland Barthes wrote that “a work is ‘eternal’ not because it imposes a single meaning on different men, but because it suggests different meanings to one man…”  That provides an apt reason to listen here.

Little Feat – Feats Don’t Fail Me Now

Feats Don't Fail Me Now

Little Feat – Feats Don’t Fail Me Now Warner Bros. K56030 (1974)

Something definitely changed for Little Feat with Feats Don’t Fail Me Now.  The reasons are quite apparent.  Lowell George was no longer the dominant guitarist and songwriter for the group.  His contributions were increasingly of a more ordinary and secondary nature.  Paul Barrere and Bill Payne were taking on more of a role in place of Lowell.  And so, the music focused more consistently on feel-good groove rock.  There really weren’t any quirky, off-beat lyrics anymore, and the music as a whole was more steady and tame.  That isn’t to say the Feat sounded bad.  In fact, this is a pretty fun record.  It just doesn’t sparkle with quite the charisma that the group’s earlier records had.  You can still count this (along with the first three albums) as essential Little Feat though.

Bob Dylan – Slow Train Coming

Slow Train Coming

Bob Dylan – Slow Train Coming Columbia FC 36120 (1979)

I’ve developed a theory that Dyan’s “christian” phase that began with Slow Train Coming was less about him converting to a particularly dogmatic strain of pentecostal christianity and more about him implicitly moving into the same camp as French academic charlatan Michel Foucault (maybe the “new philosophers” like André Glucksmann could be thrown into the conversation here too).  The reasons some people are skeptical of this part of Dylan’s career are the same reasons some people are skeptical of Foucault’s neoliberal historicist/”identity politics” theories, which are complete bullshit and evidenced a questionable kind of pandering and opportunism (not to mention a huge over-reliance on revenge fantasies).  But, anyway, this album was recorded in Muscle Shoals, and it has a smooth disco R&B/soul sound, like a mellower, less emotional counterpart to Bowie‘s Young Americans or even a more intellectual counterpart to the lily-white blues rock of Eric Clapton.  It’s a little too easy listening for its own good, but it still manages to be decent with a few good new songs.  The album benefits tremendously by having Dylan actually trying throughout, and having active involvement of producers other than Dylan.

Prince and The Revolution – Purple Rain

Purple Rain

Prince and The Revolution – Purple Rain Warner Bros. 25110-1 (1984)

In the All Music Guide, Stephen Thomas Erlewine wrote that David Bowie‘s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars had a “grand sense of staged drama” and that “Bowie succeeds not in spite of his pretensions but because of them . . . .”  The same could very well be said about Prince’s most acclaimed and best-selling album (over 20 millions copies), Purple Rain.  This was the soundtrack to a movie of the same name, which some say was inspired by Samuel R. Delany’s novel Dhalgren.  Some of the songs were recorded live (“I Would Die 4 U”, “Baby I’m a Star” and “Purple Rain”), with later overdubs.

Purple Rain just appeals to so many people.  There is something for the freaks, something for the squares (aside from the prudes).  That wide appeal should not come as a surprise.  This is basically a perfect album.  Sure, it might be hard to find anyone picking “The Beautiful Ones” as his or her favorite, on an album that also boasts “Let’s Go Crazy” (a rock-gospel party anthem), “When Doves Cry” (an abstract, minimalist pop stunner without a bass line), and “Purple Rain” (a monster ballad to end monster ballads).  Not only is there is no filler here, every song is great.  It certainly helped that Prince was a prolific songwriter.  He had about 100 songs lined up for the film, according to director Albert Magnoli, who had to cull that down to what worked best.  The photographer Robert Mapplethorpe once mentioned in a 1977 interview, “It takes me a good week really to decide what negatives and that’s half of taking pictures, is the selection.  *** And the framing is very important.”  These are analogues to song selection and album sequencing for music.  These things do put in perspective what it takes to make something like Purple Rain.  A handful of decent songs is simply not enough.

Prince wasn’t exactly an unknown before this album and the movie — from 1979 to 1983 he had even appeared on television a few times — but they were what made him a worldwide superstar.  His band The Revolution also played a significant role, with Wendy & Lisa noted for making key contributions.  Prince became something of an egomaniac as a result of his fame.  Mapplethorpe also said in that interview that all artists he knew were egotistical.  This perhaps says something about what it takes to want to put one’s self in the spotlight.

There isn’t much to say about the music itself that hasn’t already been said so many times over.  But this album still holds up decades later.

Prince – The Rainbow Children

The Rainbow Children

Prince – The Rainbow Children NPG 70004-2 (2001)

Kind of a forgotten Prince disc, unfairly, because The Rainbow Children is really one of the best from his later years.  With the exception of some weird concluding outtro tracks sequenced strangely on the CD and perhaps the novelty song “Wedding Feast,” this is an album that is solid all the way through.  The musicianship is top shelf, without succumbing to pandering or self-indulgent showiness.  To the extent this was the launch of a more mature sound for Prince, it succeeds completely.  Although it is fair to call this contemporary R&B/soul, much of this follows a kind of light soul jazz/jazz-funk approach (reference, for example, Dave Douglas‘ Live at the Jazz Standard from a few years later).  It also leans toward gospel-style vocals, which is a big bonus.  Of course, there is more than just that here.  “1+1+1 Is 3” is very much a throwback to Prince’s iconic style of the mid-1980s, done quite convincingly.  It highlights just how versatile his guitar playing is across the album.  When people speak, generally, about what a talented performer Prince was, the evidence is right here.  This album is kind of like being at the best possible intimate, private concert you cold imagine from Prince around the turn of the Millennium.  It was around this time too that Prince appeared on “The Tonight Show With Jay Leno” on May 3, 2001 and played a couple songs, including “The Work, Part 1” from this album and a great version of his classic “The Ballad of Dorothy Parker” (originally on Sign “O” the Times) with many jazzy keyboard flourishes.  The album as a whole is close to the sound of that televised performance.  He came back in December of 2002 to perform “The Everlasting Now” on the show too.  Now, some people don’t seem to like the album, often because of the religious content.  But, really, that is only on a few songs (“The Everlasting Now” etc.) and unless you focus on lyrics to the exclusion of almost everything else, the few religious messages are general enough that they don’t hold this back much.  Songs like “Family Name” — one of the funkiest on the album — are political/social commentary anyway.  The real reason this isn’t better known is that it wasn’t heavily marketed and was independently distributed.  It did set up material for the tour that produced One Nite Alone…Live!  Nonetheless, this might be the single most overlooked Prince album. 

Prince – The Black Album

The Black Album

Prince – The Black Album Warner Bros. 2-45793 (1994)

When Whitney Houston died, there was much talk about how she was long ridiculed by some for appealing too much to white audiences.  That unfortunate sentiment — that only insular identities based on differences were valid — looked down on what has long been called “crossover” appeal.  It is the idea that different musical styles that appeal to different groups can be synthesized into a hybrid that appeals to audiences for all its sources.  Prince in his prime years of 1981-87 was every bit a crossover success.  But some unfortunate pandering reared its head toward the end of the 80s.  So he made “The Black Album,” with some overt attempts to appeal to black audiences.  For whatever reasons, though, the album was aborted in late 1987 after a few promo copies were given to industry insiders — replaced by the adequate but by comparison inferior Lovesexy album, which had a more mainstream pop sound.  Due to its dubious status, this was a much bootlegged album until a belated official release in 1994.

In the mid-/late-80s Prince was working on an album project tentatively titled Crystal Ball, which was never released (another collection later adopted the same name) but evolved into Sign “O” the Times.  One of the tracks (“Rockhard in a Funky Place”) intended for Crystal Ball that was dropped from Sign “O” the Times ended up here.  Other songs still have a bit of the sonic flavor of Sign too.  That is a positive, in that Sign was Prince at his best.  But the opening few cuts (“Le Grind,” “Cindy C.”) are made for dance clubs.  There are other songs that suggest how “Slow Love” from Sign would be more representative of things Prince would do in the 1990s.

The weakness of the album is the middle section.  The P-funk workout “Superfunkycalifragisexy” gets monotonous quickly.  “Bob George” is a skit-like song with Prince playing the role of a macho critic of himself.  It’s a strange, unsettling performance, much talked about by critics and fans, but also a bit disturbingly violent and the backing track drags on like an afterthought.  It is a fascinating song in concept, but actually listening to it is kind of secondary.

The album picks up mightily at the end.  The jazzy instrumental “2 Nigs United 4 West Compton” is a highlight, complete with chaotic group segments, stinging synthesizer, and a lengthy bass solo that actually propels the songs forward.  The closer “Rockhard in a Funky Place” is also unstoppable.  It’s a funny song too.  The lyric “I just hate to see an erection go to waste” seems like the same sentiment from Leonard Cohen‘s “Don’t Go Home with Your Hard-on” (Death of a Ladies’ Man).

In the end, The Black Album is weighted down by some filler, and it lacks an obvious candidate for a hit single.  Still, it is mostly really good stuff from the tail end of Prince’s finest years.  Anyone who has exhausted Prince’s greatest material of the 80s (and that should include, well, everyone) but still wants more should consider checking this out.  In spite of the inconsistency of The Black Album, the Purple One scarcely mustered this intensity again at album length.

Jackie-O Motherfucker – The Magick Fire Music

The Magick Fire Music

Jackie-O Motherfucker – The Magick Fire Music Ecstatic Peace! E# 70c (2000)

Much like Earth gained notoriety on Earth 2: Special Low Frequency Version (1993) playing heavy metal rock at a glacial pace, to the point that the same chords take on a different character, Jackie-O Motherfucker played long jams that vaguely resembled so-called post-rock acts of the preceding decade (Dirty Three, Gastr del Sol, Godspeed You! Black Emperor) but slowed down and with jazzier improvisational choices.  The opening song “Extension” is like “Blind Willie” from Sonny Sharrock‘s Guitar (1986), played at a snail’s pace, with an amiable, meandering progression like Sharrock’s “Portrait of Linda in Three Colors, All Black” from Black Woman (1969).  The slow tempos also give this album an atmospheric quality, not quite to the point of being ambient, “furniture” music, but to the point that the percussive and rhythmic qualities of the playing subside.  The band’s later recordings leaned further toward both folk music and juxtapositions of disparate genres.  The way this music takes its time to unfold is refreshing.  It is also cautiously optimistic.  Worth seeking out.

Prince – The Very Best of Prince

The Very Best of Prince

Prince – The Very Best of Prince Warner Bros. R2 74272 (2001)

More appropriately titled “Greatest Hits” than “The Very Best of,” you could stand to get a much better overview of The Purple One than this compilation — The Hits/The B-Sides would be a slightly better choice.  Still, for the mildly Prince-curious this gives you most of the biggest hits to use as a starting point.

What Prince stood for in the 1980s — his prime — was a contemporary R&B (as Little Richard has it, that means “real black”) counterpart to David Bowie of the 70s.  Prince was this slightly androgynous, racy character who had these incredibly catchy, popular and just plain great songs.  Now, the fact that Prince was coming along in the wake of Bowie breaking into the charts might be explained by the somewhat socially conservative streak found in afro-american culture — especially when it comes to sexuality, the core of Prince’s musical subject matter.  Strange that Prince died just a few months after Bowie then.