atlantis (1969) – sun ra & his astro-infinity arkestra: impulse records 1973 re-issue, as-9239

Sun Ra’s story is almost too wild to be true. It seems more like something David Lynch or Jim Jarmusch would conjure as a movie script than a real life.

Briefly:

Born into the segregation and Jim Crow of 1914 Alabama, a sensitive, creative, and musically gifted young black boy named Herman Blount deals with the coldness and cruelty of life in the south by creating alternative histories and realities for himself, and finding solace in music.

As he grew he developed his musical skill and in his teens found himself leading local big bands and finding influence in the work of cutting edge musicians like Duke Ellington and Fats Waller.

Then, in his early 20’s, young Herman Blount unexpectedly found himself on Saturn. In his own words:

“My whole body changed into something else. I could see through myself. And I went up... I wasn't in human form... I landed on a planet that I identified as Saturn... they teleported me and I was down on [a] stage with them. They wanted to talk with me. They had one little antenna on each ear. A little antenna over each eye. They talked to me. They told me... I would speak [through music], and the world would listen. That's what they told me.” 

And so, Herman Blount began to slowly become Sun Ra*

With a backstory like that, one would expect the music to express a similar weirdness. And one is definitely not disappointed.

Atlantis was my introduction to Sun Ra, and continues to remain my favorite of all his albums.

Side 1: Mu Lemuria Yucatan Bimini
Side 2: Atlantis

Okay, first thing’s first – this stuff is really cool. That is, once you can actually start to dig it. I mean, Sun Ra’s music may be accused of many things, but being easily accessible certainly isn’t one. Perhaps the biggest understatement is that Sun Ra is not for squares. But then again, it isn’t really for those pointy-headed intellectual slimeballs or trend-hopping hipsters, either. It really does go beyond because it really is just so different.

And the inaccessibility makes a lot of sense because if the music truly is the result of interplanetary inspiration, it really oughtn’t be easy to get. Heck, it’s difficult enough trying to grok music from different cultures, much less from a different planet. So, you can imagine that trying to describe the music would also be difficult. People have called it avant garde, free-form, extraterrestrial, experimental, exploratory, and subversive.

Me? I just call it far out.

Perhaps the best way to describe Sun Ra’s music (especially the material from the 50’s through the early 70’s) is abstract expressionist. It seems to be an auditory version of a Jackson Pollock or Kandinsky painting. On the surface it may sound as if all of the musicians are playing completely at random, without any guidance or idea of what they ought to play – but as you listen and allow yourself to become immersed in the music, there is a definite cohesion. It’s as if Sun Ra creates an intangible sound that reaches into one’s emotional cortex to elicit a primitive, almost protozoan response. Something one is unable to express in any way, but which is not only genuine, but also powerful.

Atlantis is one of those records that I find myself drawn toward at seemingly random times. Sometimes it requires dedication to really get into the different shapes and levels of the sound, and other times it’s simply a soothing soundtrack in the background. But one thing’s for sure – it’s always a reminder that weirdness is something to celebrate and embrace.

Up next: Hey, you got your beat-poetry mixed up with my punk rock!

*Okay, obviously there is a lot more to the Sun Ra story, and I encourage anyone reading this to go online and learn more about this cat.

babylon by bus (1978) – bob marley & the wailers: island records, ISLD-11

In 1978 Bob Marley was arguably at the peak of his world-wide popularity, at least while he was alive. He’d released his most popular album (Kaya), and had almost singlehandedly taken reggae from the dirt roads of Kingstown to the mainstream, and started to influence music by bands as diverse as Led Zeppelin, Blondie, and Rush.

He’d also managed to become a force in politics, having managed to somehow get contentious and bitter Jamaican political rivals Michael Manley (of the ruling People’s National party) and Edward Seaga (of the opposition Jamaica Labour Party) to join him and shake hands on stage during his triumphal return to Kingston on his One Love Peace concert.

That would be kind of like getting Ted Cruz and Barack Obama to hang out.

Although remaining politically engaged in his music, Marley started to move away from overtly revolutionary songs like Get Up, Stand Up and No Woman No Cry toward more spiritual and softer themes, like Is This Love and Satisfy My Soul.

Babylon By Bus served as a celebration of Marley’s conquest and dominance, and would sadly be the last official live album he released.

Side 1: Positive Vibration Punky Reggae Party Exodus
Side 2: Stir It Up Rat Race Concrete Jungle Kinky Reggae
Side 3: Lively Up Yourself Rebel Music (3 O’Clock Road Block) War / No More Trouble
Side 4: Is This Love? Heathen Jamming

Man, you can really hear the joy and enthusiasm Marley has on stage with this album. Starting with his opening benediction before Positive Vibration all the way through the frenzied crowd during Jamming, this album is just one big-ass party.

It’s impossible not to compare Babylon to Live (released three years earlier), and when one does so, the change in Marley’s music and message is clear. The setlist for Babylon features the more hopeful, mellow, and happy songs of Marley’s later career, and while still quite activist in nature, is far less militant.

But really, I couldn’t think about message or politics or social justice when listening to this, because the music was simply too celebratory. Seriously, this is a fun album. Even the heavier songs, like Heathen and Concrete Jungle are softened in the elation of the moment.

This is an album that got a lot of play when I first bought it, continuing through the years. It has all the best elements of live albums, from the energy of the crowd to the genuine thrill of the band. And it really does serve to help prove that music – particularly music like reggae – is a shared experience and better when enjoyed by a crowd.

A bit of grass doesn’t hurt, either.

Up next: Abstract expressionism in music

dog & butterfly (1978) - heart: portrait records, FR-3555

Despite all the lip-service given to the various “rights” movements in the late 60’s and early 70’s (women, minorities, gays, etc), Rock continued to be the domain of the hetero white male. Sure, there were exceptions like Janis or Jimmy, but those merely served to prove the rule.

That’s not to say there weren’t successful bands featuring women . Fleetwood Mac had a couple of women and they were pretty popular. Jefferson Airplane featured a woman as the prominent member. And Carly Simon, Joan Baez, Carole King, and Joni Mitchell were all quite successful.

However, in all of those cases, the women were featured as singers, didn’t play guitar, or they played a softer, more folksy type of music. They weren’t bona fide rockers with a capital O, complete with screaming guitar and that metal intensity. But Heart was a different matter. Heart had a gyno-double, with Ann belting out the vocals and Nancy shredding on guitar.

And Nancy did shred. The band’s first two albums featured songs that have aged into hard rock standards: Barracuda, Magic Man, Crazy On You, and Little Queen. This combination of legitimate hard rock chops along with a sexy woman playing guitar with the ferocity and aggression of a man was at once confusing and mesmerizing. It played with gender roles and the sexual energy of hard rock musicians, and brought a lot of adolescent boys to their concerts.

 Dog & Butterfly was their 3rd album

Dog: Cook With Fire High Time Hijinx Straight On
Butterfly: Dog And Butterfly Lighter Touch Nada One Mistral Wind

Now, I have not listened to this album in close to 30 years, other than hearing Straight On a few times on the radio or on random playlists/mixtapes/CD compilations. Of all the albums I own – whether on vinyl, CD, or digital - I think this one may well be the most neglected. In all honesty, I had actually forgotten that I owned it until I started this project and took an inventory of what I’ve got.

Seeing it sitting there on the shelf between Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and the Hoodoo Gurus was weird. Pulling it from the stack felt weird. Opening the gate and looking at that incredible cover felt weird. Taking the disc out of the sleeve felt weird. Placing it on the platter, cleaning it, and setting the needle felt weird.

As you can imagine, hearing it felt weird, too.

Dog & Butterfly was Heart’s attempt to smush two albums into one. Side one (Dog) was their intense
rock album, complete with intense electric guitar, intense drums, and intense vocals. At least as intense as a corporate hard rock band could manage. Side two (Butterfly) was their softer ballad album, with the softer acoustic guitar, softer rhythm, and softer vocals. At least as soft as a hard rock band could manage.

The result was what you’d expect: despite having some very solid and listenable songs (Straight On, Dog and Butterfly) there was too little cohesion resulting in a bit of a disjointed experience. It never really got as hard as it should, nor ever really became as mellow as it might have. And the result is an album that never really fits any situation. At least not for me. But clearly, I am in the minority, because the album spent 36 weeks on the charts, peaked at #17, and reached double platinum in 1992.

I think it's safe to say that I may not be the guy from whom you want to take musical advice.

Honestly, for me the only thing that really stands out about this album is the cover. This is another example of the magic of full-sized, gatefold album covers. The concept and artwork are just great. The outer cover mimics a Chinese painting in both form and style, even opening vertically, rather than horizontally. And if nothing else, it reminded me that the main reason I bought this album in the first place was because I thought the cover was cool.

Up next: Natty rocks Babylon

call of the wildest, the (1957) - louis prima: capitol records, T-836

By the late 50’s music was undergoing one of those major revolutions that would change things permanently. Rock and Roll had started to make it almost socially acceptable for white people to listen to and enjoy the so-called “black” music.

Almost.

Guys like Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, and Jerry Lee Lewis were bringing upbeat, blues-based, jazzy-jive styles into homes where only Bing Crosby, the Andrews Sisters, and Glenn Miller were heard before. Parents genuinely feared that the new sound would corrupt their pure daughters, resulting in miscegenation, the collapse of morality, and a communist takeover of America.

The only problem was that guys like Elvis, Buddy, and Jerry weren’t the first guys to bring so-called “colored” music into the mainstream. Far from it. In fact, Louis Prima was coloring up music with his version of New Orleans Jump-Blues and Ragtime Jazz since the 1930’s. It was just that it took white America about 20 years to catch up to him.

But, by the mid-50’s and the inevitable emergence of rock, Louis Prima finally got his place in the sun.

Side 1: When You’re Smiling / Sheik of Araby (Medley) Autumn Leaves I’ve Got The World On A String Blow, Red, Blow The Pump Song There’ll Be No Next Time
Side 2: Pennies From Heaven Birth Of The Blues Closest To The Bone Sentimental Journey When The Saints Go Marching In

Call of the Wildest is a follow-up to his wildly successful 1956 release, The Wildest, and features the same frenetic energy and infectious nature that made The Wildest such a hit.

Louis Prima’s music can be summed up in a single three-letter word: Fun. That’s really all you need to say. The dude is just a big, gregarious, loud, enthusiastic, bombastic, energetic, hectic, frenetic bundle of fun. Fun on a bun. Big Fun. Everything about this album is fun, starting with the ridiculous cover featuring a crudely Photoshopped (or what passed for Photoshop back in the late 50's) Prima bellowing at a collection of stuffed wildlife and ending with the controlled chaos of the horns on Saints.

The joy simply permeate the songs on the album – even the more restrained cuts like Autumn Leaves and Sentimental Journey have an good-time quality to them. The fun starts with the tempo and distinct Dixieland-Boogie Woogie style of the music and is punctuated with Prima’s raucous singing and interaction with the other band members, best heard on the last cut of side one. There’ll Be No More Next Time is a wonderfully amusing song about some poor slob who has to face a judge because he pissed off his vindictive lady friend. The back and forth between sax player Sam Butera (the beleaguered sap) and Prima (his empathizing buddy) has the familiarity of a conversation men have had while commiserating over a couple of drinks going back to caveman days.

Getting a chance to sit back and listen to this record again was a genuine pleasure, and had me singing along and having a couple of drinks because that just seemed right. And I’m glad I did.

Up next: Sisters rocking in the free world

a farewell to kings (1977) - rush: mercury records, SRM-1-1184

Success - especially massive, unexpected, and rapid success - can be as much curse as blessing. On the one hand it brings fame, fortune, redemption, validation for all the work, and freedom. But then again, it also brings with it the “What have you done for me lately” type of expectations of more and better success. This is certainly true in music, where perhaps the most insulting insult with which one can have insulted a band is calling them a One Hit Wonder.

So it was with Rush in 1977. The year before, the boys released 2112, which was a seismic event that launched the trio into the stratosphere, like an Ayn Rand-fueled missile, transforming Rush into RUSH!. After the initial celebration subsided, the boys were back in the studio faced with the pressure of following up. But this time, for the very first time, they were completely free to do whatever they wanted musically. And what they wanted to do was, in a way, regress.

Side 1: A Farewell To Kings Xanadu
Side 2: Closer To The Heart Cinderella Man Madrigal Cygnus X-1

Up to this point the band had been steadily evolving along the path of overly-long, overly-complex, overly-pretentious, and overly-conceptual music. Songs (or song clusters) would routinely cover at least one side of vinyl and were inextricably tied to the songs preceding and succeeding it.

However, Farewell to Kings sees a sudden and definite ebbing of the band’s progvolution. Instead of a single ponderous concept album, with songs composed of multiple movements, covering entire sides, Kings instead features songs only tangentially related to one another, often clocking in at a very radio-friendly sub-4 minutes.

That’s not to say that Kings isn’t a prog album, because it is. All of the prog touchstones are present, from the Tolkienesque imagery to multi-movement compositions to poxy poetry - there’s no mistaking, this is prog.

But at the same time it isn’t, in that while the songs all loosely relate to a central theme (of overcoming the control of a faceless power stagnating under its overwhelming inertia), the relationship between the songs doesn’t go beyond that common thread. There is no connection between the songs. Other than the main idea, Farewell to Kings has nothing connecting it to Xanadu, which has nothing connecting it to Closer to the Heart which is unconnected to Cygnus X-1. That's nothing like the common thread in 2112, where each song was related to the others in the same way each of the paragraphs of this post is related to the others.

Another difference in Kings is the emergence of synths to prominence in the music. The band’s new found freedom allowed them to experiment and indulge themselves with new sounds, and the boys (Geddy, in particular) had developed a rather strong fetish for synthesizers and electronic enhancements. The presence of synthesizers, along with more accessible song length and structure, was a preview of the next phase of Rush..

I haven’t listened to Farewell to Kings all the way through for a number of years, and hearing it again confirmed my initial feeling about this album at my first listen: It’s a good album, but not great. For me the ultimate test of whether and album is good or not is simple: when listening to it, does the whole seem greater than the sum of the parts or not? By that I mean, do the individual songs gain from the context of the others, or can any song basically stand alone without the one before or after it? With Farewell to Kings, the answer is unequivocally that the whole is less than the sum of its parts.

Up next: A ton of fun with a trumpet and a strumpet.