Great British Tenor Players, Nope, You Read That Right Dept. Part Deux

Well, great in this case is a little bit of a stretch. Let's settle for pretty damn good. Johnny Almond was no Tubby Hayes, but he was no slouch, either. Plus, he could play a bunch of other stuff, keys, flute, vibes, whatever. The first JAMM album, Patent Pending, was bought by many hippies in '69 tempted by jazz but knowing fuck all about it. Like me. It's a brilliantly entertaining album, too pop to be jazz, too jazz to be pop. There's few welcome psych touches, some Mexican samba stuff, a bit of free jazz (for which the listener pays, like always), some groovy funk, and a lot of it sounds like the soundtrack to a Swingin' London movie, which is no bad thing. Think black turtlenecks, dolly birds in miniskirts ... 

The followup in the following year was recorded in the US and A with an entirely different lineup, including Joe Pass. All the pop influences and experimentation are gone, but it's a fine straight jazz album, although does anybody need to hear (or play) Perdido again? I seem to remember Ralph Gleason writing some snootily patronising sleeve notes along the lines of "can't cut it with the big boys, maybe next time", but as he could only play a Remington portable he can shut his yap, right? Again, a nice illustration on the cover, very Pop Art. You'll dig it.

Almond moved on to John Mayall for The Turning Point album, and thence [grammar - Ed.] to Mark-Almond. Interesting guy, shame there aren't more like him.

Somethin' Fer Sunday Dept. - Charlie Rouse

Let Foam-O-Graph© live your life for you!

Back when th' IoF© was the hip place to hang, Sundays were the time to rock the Daks, a pastel cardigan, Penny Loafers, and kick back on the patio with a Daiquiri and some cocktail jazz on th' Consolette™. Like, Populuxe, daddy-o!

Today we honor that tradition by featuring a fine album by Charlie Rouse, who played sax with Thelonious Monk but here falls back into his Sunday slacks and delivers nine smuthely swingin' sides, ably abetted by [discogs rsrch musicians pse ed]. 

This album, recorded in [ed?] goes some way to disproving the commonly-held notion that all jazz is shit. It's swell, and you'll dig it! Also, it'll make a change from Davis and John.

 

Free! With every download - this swell Art cover! Yours to keep whatever you decide!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Cut Is The Deepest Dept. - Television, Ramones, Patti Smith

Noo Yawk, 1975. Yikes?

A recent flurry of page hits for the first in this series [here - Ed.] inspired me - too strong a word - to pen this sequel, late at night though it be. The wind howled through the shadowed stones, banging the moldering shutters, as if in warning. I lit a guttering tallow candle and made my way to my study, high in the ruined tower of this age-old house above the Miskatonic. Shiveringly, I cut a new quill, uncorked the inkwell, and arranged a blotter on the escritoire. As I bent to my task the rats chattered hideously in the rotten wainscotting, as if mocking my literary pretension. The cursed rats! Ever louder! Ever closer! Must ... finish ...  must ... *bonk*.

Television's first album was a stunning achievement on release, and remains, along with epic presingle Johnny Jewel, some kind of apogee [is this the right word? - Ed.] of guitar rock. Yayy! It's a Perfect Ten, with no evident failings anywhere. There are those who defend Adventure, the second album (as I once did), but it's really a stance that requires clinical denial and results in a cognitively dissonant stress head. It's okay, I guess, and that's truthfully the best we can say about it. The third album? I bought it, along with a few other hopeless punters, and tried to convince myself it was worth listening to again. Just different, right? But also duller and weaker, even less interesting than Adventure. Meh. They should have stopped after the first, and the world would be a better place.

The Ramones got universally ecstatic reviews for the first album, because it's a genius-level zeitgeist statement, a work of art, a fantastically perfect idea manifested in a perfect way. Whatever you think of the music (it always sounded a bit thin to me) it established Th' Brudders as a global brand. How could they follow that? Who cares? They needn't have bothered, but the formula was good for more sales across a series of rinse-and-repeat albums. And t-shirts. You're going to tell me yebbut Rocket To Russia is pretty good, thinking that I'm interested in your opinion, a mistake. They should have quit after the first, or become a jam band.

Patti Smith, darling of NY Loft Society, shook things up in an entirely good way with Horses, but insisted on hanging around for a ballsaching series of "challenging" albums that are used to illustrate the concept of diminishing returns at music biz conferences. Yes, Easter had the hit Because I Stole This From Bruce Springsteen, but she could have locked the stable door after Horses bolted. To give her her due, she's nearly as good a poet as Rod McKuen, although not as accomplished as Jim Carroll, another alumnus of the New York School Of Scag, or Elliott Murphy. But Horses has kept its impact untouched by the passing decades - true bottled lightning.

This post funded in part by IANYTYWU "It's A New York Thing, You Wouldn't Understand", a non-profit organisation.

Joes' Garbage Dept.

Russell Brand, yesterday

Zappa's leftovers are tastier morsels than most artists' main meals. Way back in 2004, grizzled, near-blind Zappa archivist Joe Travers was cruelly whipped by the elderly Gail Zappa [below - Ed.], furious she wasn't seeing any new Zappa albums at her local Target. 

Still bleeding from the sting of her lash, Joe hastily cobbled together three barrel-scraping exercises, Joe's Domage, Joe's Corsage, and Joe's Xmasage, had some sleeves run out by Dave at Kinkos, and stuffed them into the racks himself. Result: job kept, Gail escorted from Target screeching "My husband, bitches! Eat my fucking panty-hose!"

 

 

THIS JUST IN!!!!

 Joe's Menage and Joe's Camouflage added in separate link!!! YOU DO NOT DESERVE THIS!

Note: The "garbage" in the title to this piece is pronounced gar-baahj for conceptual continuity. Thank you for your attention in this matter.

This post co-funded by Widows Of Famous Rock Stars™. See them at this year's CPAC!

Swagger And Strut Dept. - Aerosmith

Girls just wanna have fun, boys just wanna sulk

Aerosmith took a lot of flak for being dumb Rolling Stone knock-offs. Two things wrong with this: they don't sound like the Stones, and they're dumb like The Ramones are dumb. If you don't grab your air guitar three seconds into any Aerosmith song, rock n' roll may not be your thing. That's okay. Tedeschi Trucks are there for you.

Their first four albums vary only in the number of hits they contain, from zero (Get Your Wings) to a shitload (Rocks), but they all sound exactly like rock n' roll should sound; deceptively simple. If you lend an ear to the arrangements - yup, these songs are all craftsman built - you'll hear surprises and neat tricks you might not expect from a bunch of dumb Stones wannabes.

Associations with Hair Bands, Metal, Glam, and Hard Rock are off the mark. Aerosmith is 100% proof pure rock music, and at their best as great as it gets. Drums that sound like drums, guitars everywhere, riffing and soloing, bass crunching, and vocals that never degrade into that grunty vein-popping thing.

Deliverables: first four albums. Self-titled first album with really nice extra track, Get Your Wings, Toys In The Attic, and Rocks. An absolute fucking blast, a feast.

StealthLink© embedded into post for community wellness.

 

This post autoclaved with an alembic donated by Alchemy Al's All-Aluminum Alembics, Alabaster, AL