Shelter From The Storm

I began collecting records when I was ten years old. The first album I ever bought was Snoopy vs. The Red Baron by The Royal Guardsmen. Hey, I was a child of the AM pop radio sixties and I was only ten years old, so cut me some slack. I redeemed myself with my second album purchase, Between The Buttons, by the Rolling Stones. From there it was The Doors, Bob Dylan, lots of Motown, Simon & Garfunkel, Joan Baez, etc. I was a collector from the very beginning. Sure, I was in it for the music, but I also loved the tangible, solid pieces of black vinyl and cardboard jackets that I could hold in my hand. Things just got worse and worse as I got older and before I knew it I had accumulated thousands of albums and hundreds of singles. It seemed I was constantly building new shelves to hold everything. Working at record stores certainly didn’t help matters much, as I got a lot things free there. For many, many years I never even dreamed of selling any of my prized possessions. I had lots (and I mean lots) of albums that I had never listened to, but it always seemed that there would certainly be time to listen to them all eventually. Even though I was still accumulating far more than I could listen to at the time, when you’re young the future seems endless and able to accommodate anything. Besides, I was terrified of the idea that I would sell something I hadn’t listened to and then years later find out how good it was and that it was no longer in print and impossible to find again. Better to hang on to everything, just in case. Then in the late 70s and early 80s I started to attend record conventions in Houston and Austin and began selling some of my duplicates. Yes, I had multiple copies of a lot of stuff. When Elvis Costello and Nick Lowe would put out a UK single with a picture sleeve and unreleased b-sides I would buy two, three, five or ten copies knowing that some day they would be worth something. I soon discovered that once you begin to sell stuff it’s a slippery slope. Throughout the eighties I was attending the Austin Record Convention as a dealer twice a year, sorting through my collection and deciding what things I was willing to part with. Of course, most of the money I made I plowed right back into buying more albums and CDs, so in reality I was just trading things out for things I wanted more. 

These days it’s all about Amazon.com and eBay. I’ve sold a lot of CDs over the past few years at Amazon. I’m at the point now where I’ve finally accepted that there’s just no way I’m ever going to be able to listen to all this stuff, there’s just too much and my years of listening are now noticeably more numbered. But, I still spend a lot of the money I make buying new stuff, so I’m still often just replacing one CD with something else that I want more. That’s OK. I listen to as much as I can.

Occasionally I’ll pull a CD from my rack and think, “OK, this can go. I’ve had this CD for 15 years and I’ve never listened to it.” So, I’ll look it up on Amazon and see what used copies are going for. Occasionally, if it’s an artist or album that I’m not familiar with at all, I’ll read some of the reviews that the fans write at Amazon. That’s how I came to discover Terence Boylan. I have a CD simply titled Terence Boylan. It’s on a label I’ve never heard of Spinnaker Records (probably his own custom label). I have no idea where it came from or how long I’ve had it. I pulled it out and decided I’d put it up for sale on Amazon. Then I read a few reviews and had second thoughts. This seems like an album I might really like. Maybe I should give it a quick listen before I sell it. Now this doesn’t happen too often, but Terence Boylan has suddenly become one of my new favorite artists and I’m really getting into this CD.

It turns out that Boylan released two albums on Asylum back in the late seventies (probably what made me pick this up originally). This self-titled CD, released in 1999, is a compilation that contains eight songs from his first album (Terence Boylan), four songs from his second (Suzy, 1980) and three previously unreleased songs most likely recorded sometime in the nineties. The album opens with a piano intro (on the song “Hey Papa”) that sounds like it came right off a Steely Dan album. Then Boylan’s voice kicks in, smooth, sweet and silvery. Background vocals and a saxophone solo and you know right away you’re in Southern California seventies territory. While I usually hate to make comparisons to other artists the best way to describe this music is a blend of Steely Dan and Jackson Browne. Throw in a little Joni Mitchell and J.D. Souther and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what to expect. It’s got the smooth, funky, jazz-rock of the best of Steely Dan while Boylan’s songs and voice inhabit the same territory that Jackson’s one of the masters of. And yet, with all that said, he’s got a style all his own, very unique and very special. He ain’t no knockoff of anyone else. And to top it all of he’s a damn fine songwriter.

This is only my third real listen to this album, so I’m still getting to know the songs. But it’s definitely one of those albums that sounds even better to me on each listening. Right now “Dancing Shoes,” “Ice And Snow,” “Hey Papa,” “Tell Me” and especially “Trains” and “Shake It” (Ian Matthews had a hit with this in 1978) are my favorites, but that could easily change as I continue to absorb this stuff. Once I realized how good this was I immediately looked up the two Asylum albums on Amazon, found that Wounded Bird Records had recently reissued both of them and ordered them then and there. They haven’t arrived yet, but I’m looking forward to hearing more from Boylan when they do.

Other Listens on July 31st:
Velvet Gloves And Spit by Neil Diamond

I love box sets. I buy a lot of them. If there’s a box set by any artist I’m interested in, I’ll get it. The truth is I listen to each of them two or three times when I first get them, but after that not so much. Part of the appeal lies in the “extras” that often come with a box set: the rare unreleased tracks, the book or booklet with lots of essays, track information and liner notes, the photos and packaging, etc. But box sets can really run the gamut from flat out fantastic to a complete waste of time. Ideally a box set, if it’s done right, should represent the artist and/or period it covers in such a way that it appeals to someone who’s only marginally familiar with the music and to a true collector. This can be a tricky thing to accomplish. More and more the labels are getting it right, but there’s no guarantee. The worst box set I have is the Steely Dan collection Citizen Steely Dan 1972 – 1980. Not because of the music, the music is great. Because all it really contains is the first seven studio albums in their entirety with one hard to find b-side, one outtake and one demo. The complete lack of rare and/or unreleased material makes this a colossal waste of time, for me at least. I already have all the studio albums. One of my favorite box sets is a 26 CD set from Bob Dylan titled Jewels And Binoculars: The Definitive 1966 Collection. It’s a bootleg, of course, the labels would never indulge in something that extravagant. It collects all of the live recordings (and some studio tracks as well) that exist among collectors from Dylan in 1966.

The Band only made seven studio albums during their career. There is also the stellar live album Rock Of Ages and the farewell concert document The Last Waltz. Their recorded output has been recycled, repackaged, recompiled and rereleased quite a bit over the years. The first CD compilation came in 1989 with To Kingdom Come a two disc set that was marketed at the time as “The Definitive Collection.” For a two disc set it does a pretty good job and even throws in a couple of hard to find tracks. But it was hardly “definitive.” 1994 saw the release of the first box set, Across The Great Divide, a three disc affair. This time around there are two discs of “greatest hits” and one disc of rarities. Very nicely done with a gorgeous booklet containing a great essay by Chet Flippo, nice photos and track information. For those with bootleg tastes the wonderful Crossing The Great Divide (another three disc set released in the nineties) was a treasure trove of rare and unreleased material. In 2000 and 2001 Capital rereleased all of the groups albums once again, this time with tons of bonus tracks, great packaging and detailed liner notes. These really were the “definitive” editions. So, I for one, was not expecting to see this box set arrive in 2005. Did we really need another collection? Well, as it turns out, the answer is a definitive yes. A Music History is one of the most spectacular box sets ever released. Everything about it is simply stunning. Housed in a large 9″ by 10″ hardback book, it’s the perfect tribute to one of the best, most unique bands America has ever produced. Over five CDs and one DVD the producers of this compilations have pulled out all the stops.

True to the title the set is a virtual musical biography of the group. The first disc begins with four tracks recorded with Ronnie Hawkins (when they were known as Ronnie Hawkins & The Hawks) recorded in 1961 and 1963. There are eight rare tracks (three of them previously unreleased) recorded under the name Levon & The Hawks in 1964 and 1965. There are tracks from the famous Dylan tour of 1966, Basement Tape tracks and early demos recorded before their first album. A fair amount of this material has never been released before and did not circulate among collectors (at least not the collectors I know). It might be of only passing interest to the casual fan, but for the collectors it’s a gold mine. Discs two and three cover the prime years for The Band, 1968 through 1971, which saw the release of Music From Big Pink, The Band and Stage Fright, one of the greatest three album runs by any group ever. One of the things that made The Band so special from the beginning was the fact that they had been playing together for almost ten years before they recorded their first album. Night after night with Ronnie Hawkins, as Levon & The Hawks and with Dylan. I don’t think any other band has ever been so well “rehearsed” for their debut album. Even after packing all the reissued catalog discs with an abundance of bonus tracks enough rare and unreleased material was still found to fill out these discs quite nicely with numerous treats. In fact, of the 102 total tracks on the box set, 32 are previously unreleased. Disc four covers Cahoots (a bit of letdown at the time after their first three albums) and Rock Of Ages. There’s only three unreleased tracks here, one of which is an outtake from the Academy Of Music shows that made up Rock Of Ages. I have a great two CD bootleg titled Academy Of Outtakes that contains a wealth of material from these shows, so it’s a little disappointing they didn’t include a bit more of those tracks here. By the time we get to most of the music on disc five The Band was beginning to come apart. There are a couple of tracks from their triumphant 1974 tour with Dylan (documented officially on Before The Flood), three tracks from their covers album Moondog Matinee and one track from Dylan’s album Planet Waves on which they served as the backing band. There are only three tracks each from their last two albums, Northern Lights – Southern Cross and Islands. I would have liked to have seen Northern Lights – Southern Cross a little better represented here, but that’s a minor detail. It’s a vastly underrated album that I don’t think has ever really gotten it’s proper respect.

The final disc, a DVD, is a great bonus. It contains nine video tracks, most of which have never been seen before. The first piece “Jam/King Harvest (Has Surely Come)” was filmed in Robbie’s studio in Woodstock in 1970 and it’s a real pleasure to watch. There are a couple of tracks from the Festival Express Tour of Canada in 1970 which have now been released on another DVD. There are two tracks from Wembley Stadium in London in 1974 (a bit disappointing) and the last three tracks were recorded in 1976 for Saturday Night Live. Video of The Band is hard to come by, so the disc is a most welcome addition to the box set.

The Band is one of my favorite all time bands. This box set is a near perfect collection of their work from the very beginning to the very end. It’s great for collectors like me that already have everything else they’ve released and it’s great for someone who doesn’t have anything and wants a good compilation of their work. Any true fan could quibble with the song selection on a set like this, but, truth be told, this box set contains the very best of The Band. The 111 page hardbound book is the icing on the cake. Incredible photos. Detailed liner notes. Wonderful essays. You really couldn’t ask for anything more. It’s probably the best box set I’ve ever seen. Kudos to producers Cheryl Pawelski and Andrew Sandoval for doing such a fantastic job and for giving this great band the homage they so richly deserve.

I listened to a lot of music even back in high school. It was mostly 8-track tapes for me in those days. I had a home player, and when I was finally old enough to drive I had a player in my car. When I’d get in trouble at home the favorite punishment of my Mom and Dad was to take away my 8-track player. They’d lock it in the trunk of the car so I had no chance at getting to it. I guess it was clear how much I loved my music, even back then. I also had a little portable player that I could carry around (a boom box if you will, way before boom boxes became popular). I remember taking it to school a few times and getting in a lot of trouble. But even though I tried to keep up with popular music, there was, of course, just way too much to really do so. Especially when my finances were pretty limited. A lot of bands slipped through the cracks. With some I might have been able to get one album, but it didn’t go much further than that. And with many more I only knew of them from the radio and was maybe familiar with a hit or two here and there. As I get older, and as more and more albums have been remastered and reissued on CD, I’ve been making a concerted effort to go back and fill in the missing pieces for a lot of these bands: The Jefferson Airplane, The Guess Who, Sly & The Family Stone, The Steve Miller Band, The Grateful Dead, Santana and Led Zeppelin are some good examples. I remember I had an 8-track at one time of Thirds by James Gang. All I remember of the album was the hit “Walk Away.” I was familiar with at least one other of their hits, “Funk 49.” But that was about all I knew of James Gang for the next thirty plus years. I’d never bought any of their albums on CD. Until recently.

A couple of years ago I read something about the first James Gang album, Yer’ Album. Now, let me say at the start that I’ve never been much of Joe Walsh fan to begin with. I didn’t really connect to his seventies solo stuff, and I’m still not sure if it was really a good idea to bring him into the Eagles. (Side note: I saw Emmylou Harris and The Hot Band open a show for Joe Walsh in 1975 at a concert hall at UCLA in Los Angeles. What a disaster that was.) But, hey, I thought I’d give this early album a try so I picked it up and listened to it a few times. There was some good stuff on the album, but even with repeated listenings it didn’t move me a lot. The band was clearly young and still finding their way. The playing was good, but the songs were lacking. Still, there was undeniably something there, a “promise” of things to come as they say. So next I picked up their Greatest Hits album. I figured if nothing really did it for me on this album then I’d just move on to other things. I found enough on the Greatest Hits album that I liked that I decided to buy their second album, Rides Again.

A giant step forward from the first release. Now, this is a rock album I can sink my teeth into. Walsh’s guitar playing is excellent throughout, from the very first notes of “Funk #49″ to the final acoustic picking on “Ashes The Rain And I.” The entire band sounds much more assured, much more confident. The time spent on the road promoting the first album certainly paid off here. And I dare say that Bill Szymczyk’s production has grown by leaps and bounds from the first album as well. But the real difference between this album and their first is the quality of the songwriting. On that front things have improved dramatically. Two of their biggest hits (and finest songs) are here: “Funk 49″ with it’s infectious riff and “The Bomber” a medley of “Closet Queen,” “Bolero” and “Cast Your Fate To The Wind.” But the rest of the songs are almost equally as strong. I particularly like “Tend My Garden” which features a delicious hook that’s not even part of the main melody of the song. I love stuff like that. “There I Go Again” is a great little pop/rock song, as is “Thanks.” The band is also quite capable of displaying a softer, acoustic side on songs like “Ashes The Rain And I” (which features a 24 piece string section directed by Jack Nitzsche) and “Garden Gate.” All in all, there’s not a weak song on the album. 

So I guess it’s on to Thirds next. If I see it on sale at Amazon I’ll pick it up. In the mean time I did get a copy of their live album, Live In Concert, as it was only $6.25 at Amazon, so I guess that one will actually be next in line. I just love the fact that all the CD reissue campaigns of the last twenty years give me another chance to go back and pick up on a lot of great music I missed the first time around. I really ever owned one Jefferson Airplane album, Surrealistic Pillow, but I’ve now gone back and added their entire early output to my collection. Same thing with The Grateful Dead, all I had before was American Beauty and Workingman’s Dead, but I’ve bit by bit been buying all their other early albums and listening to them for the first time. And then there’s Led Zeppelin who I never really even liked very much back in their heyday and now can’t seem to get enough of. It’s almost like going back in time and doing it all over again. And I like to think I’m older and wiser enough now, better able to appreciate a lot of stuff that passed me by when I was young and inexperienced.

Other Listens on July 26th:

Sammy Walker by Sammy Walker (thanks Pascal!)
Hotcakes by Carly Simon
Live From The Bowery Ballrom by Kathleen Edwards
Maximum ‘65 by Various Artists
Crosswords by Larry Hosford
The Outsider by Tom Pacheco
At My Age and Jesus Of Cool Bonus Tracks by Nick Lowe

My musical landscape is littered with fallen artists. For every Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Elliott Murphy and Neil Young still soldiering on after thirty or forty years there are probably dozens of artists who released anywhere from one to five or more albums and then fell by the wayside. I remember reading back in the nineties that something like over 30,000 new albums were released each year. New albums. That’s an astonishing number when you stop to think about it. I don’t know if it’s more or less these days, but I suspect it’s probably even more. Even though record labels might be releasing fewer albums, the DIY, record, burn and sell your own CD process has probably fueled the marketplace with even more releases. Places like CDBaby, The Orchard, The Connextion and others are selling thousands (sometimes it seems likes millions) of CDs by artists most people have never heard of. Notice I said “selling.” I wonder sometimes exactly how many people are “buying” some of these albums. I’m sure there are some artists who do relatively well. After all, though I consider myself pretty knowledgeable about music, there are certainly a lot of artists I’m not familiar with who have a good following. But I’m equally certain there are plenty of artists with CDs for sale on these sites who don’t sell more than a dozen or two CDs a year, if that many.

I realized a long, long time ago, at a quite early age, that being good, hell even being great, was no guarantee that an artist would get anywhere in the music business. It was very disillusioning to my young, romantic view of the arts and the world. I’d hear so many great albums from so many artists and wonder why in the hell is this person not more popular than they are? I saw so many artists, truly impressive, significant, inspiring artists come and go leaving only their music behind. Randy Burns was one of those artists. I don’t remember how I first heard Burns. I’m pretty sure it was through his 1971 album simply entitled Randy Burns And The Sky Dog Band on Mercury. I bought it as a cut-out for 49¢ at one of the Wherehouse Records stores in Los Angeles in 1974. I probably bought it simply because David Bromberg played on two songs, I liked the cover and it was cheap. I was hooked from the very first listen. Burns has one of those voices that just sinks straight into my soul. On top of that he wrote some really great songs and his folk/country/singer-songwriter style was right up my alley.

It turned out that Burns had recorded three albums before Randy Burns And The Sky Dog Band. All were released on the eccentric ESP-Disk label in the mid to late sixties. I managed to track them all down, and while they each contained some good material I think Burns really found his voice on the Mercury album. He released two more albums, I’m A Lover Not A Fool (Polydor, 1972) and Still On Our Feet (Polydor, 1973) and was never heard from again. At least not by me. At least not for a long time. None of his material has ever been released on CD (at least that I am aware of). He’s one of those great, lost artists I wish everyone could hear and appreciate as much as I do. Sadly, not many probably ever will.

The Cat’s Pajamas was released only as a cassette back in 1991 almost twenty years after Still On Our Feet. I have no idea what Burns was up to in the meantime. A bio on allmusic.com says he continued to play music, mostly coffee houses and folk festivals, throughout the seventies and eighties. My understanding at the time this was released was that The Cat’s Pajamas was financed and released by a fan who simply wanted to see a new Randy Burns album available. I can’t remember now how I even heard it existed, but somehow I mailed off for a copy. It’s never been released on CD. I recently got around to finally transferring it from cassette to CDR.

It’s an awfully lot like seeing an old friend again when an artist you are fond of puts out a new album after a twenty year absence. But, just like attending a high school reunion, the experience can be disheartening as often as it is joyful. There’s nothing I hate more than getting a new album by one of my favorite artists who I haven’t heard from in a long time, really, really wanting to like it, to love it, to be blown away by it, only to be let down when the songs and music don’t even come close to the earlier work. Thankfully, that’s not the case here. While The Cat’s Pajama’s is not my favorite album by Burns it’s a very strong release and I would highly recommend it to anyone familiar with his earlier work (and everyone else as well).

The album is a completely acoustic affair with Burns on acoustic guitar and vocals and his old band mate from The Sky Dog Band Matt Kastner on second acoustic guitar, steel guitar, bass and vocals. Phil Rosenthal is along for mandolin on two songs. It’s what we used to call a “folk” album in the old days, but in the nineties it would have been referred to as “unplugged.” The set opens with “Jesus/Marriage Song,” two Burns originals meshed together into one performance. It’s classic Randy Burns, a plaintive melody, insightful lyrics and a moving vocal performance. Of the thirteen songs on this disc Burns only wrote three and sure enough, they are three of my favorite songs on the album. “Liela” and “The Farm Song” are both excellent examples of Burns’ songwriting skills, and I only wish he had of included a few more originals in this set.

There are three “Irish” flavored songs: “Dirty Old Town,” a beautiful reworking of an old Ewan MacColl song, “Patty Reilly” and ”Go To Sea Once More” a sea shantie done a capella. There are two Dylan covers: “One Too Many Mornings” and “Just Like Tom Thumbs Blues.” Now Dylan gets covered so often, and by so many people, that I tend to dismiss many attempts offhand. This is different. Burns has an extremely expressive voice that suits these two Dylan songs perfectly. “One Too Many Mornings” is not an especially well known Dylan song and I think that allows for an easier interpretation and Burns does a fine job with it here. “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” is a little tougher to pull off, as it’s such a classic. But again, Burns rises to the challenge, taking the number a bit slower than Dylan. The acoustic guitars provide a perfect background as Burns winds his way through the verses providing just the right amount of drama and style to breathe new life into the lyrics most of us know so well. A nice version of the Tom Paxton classic “The Last Thing On My Mind,” a Donovan cover and a Tom Pacheco song, “The Last Waltz” (which to the best of my knowledge Tom has never recorded himself), round things out. The albums ends with a great reading of “Farewell My Friend” an old Bruce Murdoch song.

I’ve heard recently that a new label, WildCat Recordings, is going to reissue Burns’ first three albums as a two disc set. They also have plans to issue a live recording with The Sky Dog Band from 1970 and a “new” album titled Only Fools Never Try (that looks from their description an awfully lot like The Cat’s Pajamas). I’ve been disappointed numerous times by new, start up labels that have planned to release things that never end up materializing. I sure hope WildCat is able to carry through with their plans and get these Randy Burns discs out soon. There may not be a lot of people waiting for them, but for those of us who are, they can’t come quick enough.

Other Listens on July 25th:
Nevada Fighter by Michael Nesmith
Rides Again by James Gang
The Other Side by Chris Hillman

I’m not much of a “jam band” fan. I’m not real big on instrumentals, especially overly protracted ones. I usually come first for the lyrics, though the melody certainly plays a huge part in the overall equation of a song. I don’t care much for long, drawn out “noodling.” I don’t mind an extended version of a song if the framework can support it. I like purpose. I like drive. I like structure. Keep me on my toes, keep me interested and I’m right there with you the entire way. But when a band starts to wonder off into lala land I get bored. That’s my biggest problem with the Grateful Dead. I have a something close to a on/off relationship with them. I’m absolutely crazy about their more “structured” material (which is usually the shorter stuff). But when they head for the hills and start meandering around in self-indulgent, seemingly endless circles I just can’t go along for the ride. I get bored. On the other hand, an album like Derek And The Dominos In Concert (later expanded as Live At The Fillmore) is an absolute treat for me. Sure, there are lots of long, extended jams but there’s structure (have I mentioned that word before?). It makes a world of difference to me. The groundbreaking At Fillmore East double album by The Allman Brothers Band (expanded not once but twice: The Fillmore Concerts in 1992 and a Deluxe Edition in 2007) is another example of a “jam” record that I can get behind. The Allmans may go on for extended periods of time but they always seem to be headed somewhere and that’s all I need.

Eat A Peach, released in 1972, was the band’s fourth album (and second double album). The Allman Brothers Band and Idlewild South didn’t sell all that well, but each was very well received by the critics, each contained classic songs that would become staples of their live sets over the years and they set the stage for At Fillmore East. By the time the band hit New York for a series of shows in March 1971 they had attracted a strong cult following, due in no small part, to the incredible live shows they had been performing for the last several years. A tight, cohesive band of “brothers” the group played with a rapport and harmony that only true brothers can.

The original double vinyl album version of Eat A Peach was divided into three sections. Side one contained three new studio tracks recorded after Duane’s death. Sides two and four contained the epic live “Mountain Jam” recorded at Fillmore East during the same run of shows that gave us At Fillmore East. Side three contained a mix: one song from the March 1971 run at Fillmore East, one song from a June 1971 show at the same location and three more new studio tracks (all recorded with Duane). Anyone young and not familiar with vinyl double albums from the sixties and seventies may wonder why “Mountain Jam” was split between sides two and four, not sides two and three as one might expect. In those days many record players (but mostly the less expensive ones) would include a mechanism that would allow you to “stack” several albums on a spindle above the turntable. When one album finished the arm would move back to the outside and the next album would automatically drop down onto the turntable and begin playing. By paring sides one and three of a double album on one disc and sides two and four on another disc you could allow for this type of process letting one listen straight through two sides consecutively. Otherwise the listener would have to flip each album over after each side finished playing.

The band was midway through the recording of Eat A Peach when Duane Allman was killed in a motorcycle accident, just two weeks after At Fillmore East was certified Gold. It became their first album to reach the Top Ten. It’s a powerful document, one that serves as a tribute to Duane as well as a remarkably bold and fearless statement by the remaining members that were carrying on with courage and determination in the face of almost unimaginable tragedy. Duane is present on all but three of the songs on the album. The fact that the three new studio tracks recorded after his death make up the entirety of side one is no accident. It’s an acknowledgement by the band that life must go on.

The album gets right to the point with one of Greg Allman’s finest songs, “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More” a powerful blues/rock number reflecting on the death of his brother Duane, the fragile, fleeting nature of life and his determination to make every day count from now on. “Les Bres In A Minor” is a quintessential vehicle for Dickey Betts to lead the band through the kind of guitar based workout they were famous for. “Melissa” is another Gregg Allman classic, a beautiful, acoustic based love song, punctuated perfectly by Betts’ understated lead guitar. “Mountain Jam” is a nearly 34 minute workout that showcases everything audiences loved about seeing this band live: the dueling guitars of Duane and Dickey, the extraordinary rhythm section of Berry Oakley on bass and Butch Trucks and Jai Johanny Johanson on drums. Through it all Gregg’s organ weaves everything together and provides the foundation for everyone else to fly off from. I’ll admit, there are a few places in this extended piece that I think could have been tightened up, but it is what it is and overall it’s an incredible example of the band in their prime. “One Way Out” and “Trouble No More” are classic live blues romps done as only the Allman’s could. Betts’ “Blue Sky”, one of the biggest hits from the album is one of his best, most well-known songs, a country hymn to everything that’s right in life and love. The albums ends with just Duane and Dickey on acoustic guitar performing a Duane composition titled “Little Martha.” It’s the perfect end, in every way, to this transitional album. Their next album, Brothers And Sisters, would mark the beginning of a new era in the band’s long and tangled history. Chuck Leavell was added on piano and Lamar Williams took over on bass. There was no effort made to replace Duane with a second guitarist. No one could have stepped into those shoes.

The Deluxe Edition of Eat A Peach includes, as a second disc, the complete final Fillmore East concert the band ever performed on June 27, 1971. Only two of the nine tracks had been previously released, “One Way Out” (from the original Eat A Peach) and “Midnight Rider” (from Duane Allman: An Anthology, Volume 2). It’s a welcome addition to the increasingly large catalog of live Allman Brothers Band material from the classic years. The band is in top form as they blaze through some of their best known, best loved songs: “Statesboro Blues,” “One Way Out,” “In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed,” “Midnight Rider,” “Hot ‘Lanta,” “Whipping Post” and more.

Losing a key member like Duane Allman would have crippled many bands but the The Allman Brothers Band persevered. They went on to face more tragedy (the death only a year later of bassist Berry Oakley), upheavals galore, tabloid soap operas, bad business dealings, infighting and backstabbing and considerable personnel changes. Through it all they managed to make some of the best music of the last forty years, though their output in the late seventies and early eighties suffered by comparison to their prime work from years earlier. They took an extended break during most of the eighties, but since they regrouped in the nineties they’ve been back on track (mostly). However, the firing of Betts in 2000 (for “personal and professional” reasons) marked the real end of the band for many. Greg carries on with Butch and Jai (and a semi-rotating cast of others) but it’s just not The Allman Brothers Band anymore. At some point you have to let go and move on to other things.

I lived in Texas from 1976 to 1996, except for a brief two year period from 1980 to 1982 when I was in California and Oregon. As most anyone knows Texas is a land and a culture all to its own. The same goes for the music scene. There are literally hundreds of artists and bands who, for the most part, only play the Texas “circuit.” And I’m not just talking about “county” music either. There are plenty of rock, folk, singer-songwriter, jazz, blues, even soul and rap artists who have a significant following in Texas but can’t make much of a splash anywhere else. Some of these artists accept this reality and make a damn good living just working the Texas market (with maybe a jaunt now and then into Louisiana, Oklahoma or a few other neighboring states). There a plenty of clubs, dance halls and bars to support a very thriving music scene. Some of eeked out a niche in clubs and coffeehouses in other parts of the country that support their kind of music, but it is a patchwork network at best. Of course, there are always going to be artists who are not satisfied with a “local” following and want to make it big on the national scene. Many of them spend years slogging all over the country with nothing much to show for it. Occasionally one of them breaks through. But considering the amount of talent in Texas and the popularity some of these artists attain there, it is truly remarkable that more of them don’t manage to create more of a national following. I’ve never understood it. 

Most people only know the Dixie Chicks through their “second” incarnation. They “burst” on the mainstream country scene in 1998 with the phenomenally successful album Wide Open Spaces. With two number one singles, another Top 10 single and quadruple platinum sales the Dixie Chicks were suddenly superstars, overnight it seemed. The truth of the matter is the band had been kicking around the Texas circuit for almost ten years. Their first album, as a four piece band, a very “classic cowgirl” collection entitled Thank Heavens For Dale Evans, was released in 1990. It was followed in 1992 by Little Ol’ Cowgirl. Everything about the band, including their clothes, songs and instrumentation promoted a very traditional approach to country music. But this was the early nineties. Country music was undergoing a huge transformation in Nashville with emerging superstars like Garth Brooks blurring the lines between country, rock and pop. The Chicks had a small, loyal following, but any hopes of hitting the big time seemed awfully distant. They lost one member, released a third album in 1993, lost another member and then didn’t release anything new for almost five years. But when they finally did everything had changed and everything changed. Wide Open Spaces saw the addition of Natalie Maines, major label backing, a complete image makeover, new management and new producers. In short it was a brave new world and everything just fell into place. Everything before Wide Open Spaces was shunned,forgotten, disowned. The three early records are not in print (haven’t been for a very long time) and fetch inflated prices at places like eBay and Amazon.com. As far as the band (and most fans) are concerned Wide Open Spaces was their debut album.

Now I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t pay much attention to the Dixie Chicks, even when they broke big. The songs I would occasionally hear on the radio didn’t generate enough interest for me to buy a CD. I became a fan when they became embroiled in the 2003 controversy over Maines’ remark that they were ashamed President Bush was from Texas. Damn right. They may have lost a lot of mainstream country fans during the ensuing firestorm but I’m sure they gained some fans like me as well. I picked up a copy of their current album at the time, Home, and played it some. But I was much more interested in the the 2006 release of Taking The Long Way as this was the first album to actually be written and recorded since the “incident.”

Produced by Rick Rubin, this is not a country album, it’s a pop album. Ok, sure there are fiddles and banjos, but for the most part they are mixed way down or featured in a distinctly non-country setting. This is pop music  through and through. And it’s very clear that’s the way they want it received. Just look at the cover, there ain’t a damn thing country about it: long sleek coats, high heeled shoes, dark heavy eye makeup, stark lighting. Hell this could be a Paris fashion shoot. Ringing acoustic guitars, driving drum beats and gorgeous harmonies provide the basic backdrop for most of the songs. The really good news is that this may be the best record they’ve ever made. “Not Ready To Make Nice” is certainly my favorite song they’ve ever recorded. It’s the centerpiece of the album, an angry, passionate, soaring rebuttal to everything they had to put up with in the preceding couple of years that cuts right to the heart of the matter. Songwriting on the album is a cooperative effort. All three women are credited as songwriters on all but one of the songs. Each song also features an outside hand, usually Dan Wilson or Gary Louris, though Sheryl Crow, Mike Campbell and Neil Finn also share a credit each on a song. While this kind of “group” songwriting can sometimes result in a watered-down, lackluster outcome it seems to work for the Chicks. The album is full of great songs, all fleshed out to near perfection by Rubin and the rather long list of musicians who are on board. Favorites of mine include “Everybody Knows,” the downright rockin’ “Lubbock Or Leave It,” “Voice Inside My Head” and the infectious, borderline funky “I Like It.” The album closes with the beautiful, inspiring “I Hope” that manages to cover a lot of well travelled ground without ever resorting to cliches and worn out dialogue. Keb’ Mo’ is credited as a songwriter on this and his influence is front and center. It’s unlike anything the Chicks have done before and a great way to close things out.

The Dixie Chicks had to put up with an enormous amount of shit for several years, but in the end they got their payback. Taking The Long Way may not have sold as many copies as their earlier albums but it won five Grammy’s in 2007, including the big kahuna, Album Of The Year. Revenge is sweet.

Other Listens on July 18th:
Ultimate Collection by Jerry Jeff Walker
Russians & Americans by Al Stewart
Live At Emmajoes 10/16/82 (bootleg) by Tom Pacheco

One of the most influential albums from my teen years was the original Woodstock album. A three record set it was something that me and my friends played over and over and over again. I can’t begin to count the number of levels it impacted me on: musical, lyrical, political, sociological, just everything. I was thirteen years old when Woodstock was held, fourteen when the album was originally released: in many ways an open vessel just waiting to be filled with new music, new ideas and new influences. I was first exposed to so many artists and bands through Woodstock: Canned Heat, Richie Havens, Country Joe And The Fish, Joe Cocker, Ten Years After, Sly & The Family Stone and especially Santana. Their performance of “Soul Sacrifice” is considered by almost everyone to be one of the highlights of the album. While I’m the first to admit that I’ve never been that “adventurous” when it comes to music (I tend to stick to pop, rock, folk, singer-songwriter and country) there are a few places where I’ve found things I like outside of what I might consider my “normal” parameters. I love Bob Marley and the Wailers, and though I doubt I have a single other reggae album in my collection, I have almost of of Marley’s, several in the deluxe “Legacy” edition. I’m completely mesmerized by the My Fair Lady soundtrack, though it’s the only “Broadway” album I’ve ever listened to. Santana is another perfect example. Their “latin-tinged” rock not the kind of thing I would normally be drawn to. I don’t listen to any other music even remotely like it. And on top of that a lot of the songs are instrumentals. I’ve always, since the very beginning, been drawn to words, to lyrics. I don’t listen to much instrumental music at all. But there is something about their first three albums that truly captivates and fascinates me. But, even with Santana, that’s about as far as I go, the first three albums by the original Woodstock-era line-up. I lose interest in Santana’s work after that, as the original band gradually changed and Carlos took the music in a more jazz oriented direction. And I didn’t care at all for Supernatural, his big “come back” album from 1999, which, amazingly enough, turned out to be the biggest Santana album ever, released thirty years after their debut.

Santana, the band’s debut, was released in August 1969, the same month that the Woodstock festival took place. Their performance at Woodstock and the inclusion of “Soul Sacrifice” on the soundtrack album had an enormous impact on sales for this album. It stayed on the charts for over two years, peaking at number four. It contained not only the studio version of “Soul Sacrifice” but their first big hit, “Evil Ways” which was a Top 10 single. I didn’t listen to Santana a whole lot during the actual time period when this music was released. I had two of those first three albums and of course I heard the hits constantly on the radio (“Black Magic Woman,” “Oye Como Va,” “Everybody’s Everything” and “No One To Depend On”). I hadn’t purchased anything on CD when, in 1998, Sony/Legacy reissued the first three albums with bonus tracks and so I scooped them all up immediately. What a treat it was to rediscover these three albums and spend some time really listening to them.

Santana is a tour-de-force from start to finish. From the very beginning you know right away you’re in for something special. Composed of seven members, the original line up consisted of black, Latino and white musicians. The unique sound they developed was unlike anything that came before or after. Centered around Carlos Santana’s stinging guitar, Gregg Rolie’s swirling organ and three, count ‘em three, percussionists (two on congas and various other instruments and one on drums) the band coalesced together into an amazingly tight musical unit. The album begins with “Waiting” a classic Santana track that could have easily been another hit for the band. The congas kick in first, then the drums, then another set of congas, then the organ and finally the guitar. It’s the quintessential Santana sound.  Some bands take several albums to find their footing but these guys were red hot from the get go playing together with a cohesion and accord that some bands never find.

Songwriting was mostly a group affair as five of the nine songs on the album are credited to four or more of the band members. Only “Jingo” and “Evil Ways” were written by outside sources. There’s no filler on this album. Each and every one of the tracks is something special. In addition to “Waiting,” “Soul Sacrifice” and “Evil Ways” my other favorites are “Savor,” “Jingo” and “Persuasion.”

As bonus tracks this 1998 reissue features three of the seven songs that Santana played at Woodstock: “Soul Sacrifice,” “Savor” and “Fried Neckbones” the latter two performances having never been officially released before (“Fried Neckbones” has never been released in any other form that I know of). One listen and it’s readily apparent why the crowds at Woodstock were so blown away by these guys. When the drum solo ends on “Soul Sacrifice” and the entire band kicks back in it’s pure magic. Six years later Sony/Legacy would go on to rerelease this album yet again as a two disc “Legacy Edition” this time including the entire seven song Woodstock performance and a bunch of outtakes and alternate versions. I haven’t upgraded to that version yet, but it’s on my list.

Other Listens on July 17th:
Wrap Around Joy by Carole King

When I moved to Austin in September 1976 Austin City Limits was just getting started. They had filmed a pilot with Willie Nelson in November 1974 hoping to sell the show to PBS. The show aired on about three dozen stations in the spring of 1975, during the semi-annual membership and fund-raising pledge drive. A deal was struck and in late summer taping began for a thirteen episode first year to be broadcast in 1976. Season one was a very “progressive Texas music” affair with regional artists like Rusty Wier, Doug Sahm, Alvin Crow, Marcia Ball, Jerry Jeff Walker and Asleep At The Wheel. The second season, taped in late 1976 and broadcast in 1977 wasn’t much different (though these days it’s an entirely different scene with big name international acts booked quite frequently). I attended the taping of the first show that season, Tracy Nelson and Willie Nelson. I was able to get tickets for several more, including Gove / The Amazing Rhythm Aces and The Earl Scruggs Revue. Tickets weren’t real hard to come by, but you had to work to get them. The local NPR radio station would announce when tickets would be available, people would line up at the studios and wait and if you weren’t too far back in line you’d get some. It was a strictly first come, first served basis. It was rare that tickets for any show weren’t snapped up immediately. However, I do remember one show in 1989. It was Halloween evening and a rare snow storm had hit Austin. Now, it doesn’t take too much snow to shut down a city like Austin. You get an inch or two and everybody closes up shop. Leonard Cohen was taping an Austin City Limits show that night. Tickets were very hard to come by, as Austin is a big Cohen town. But the weather was messing everything up. I was listening to the radio that afternoon and they made a plea: even if you don’t have tickets please try to come down to the KLRU studios (where ACL is taped) to see Leonard Cohen. They wanted to have a full house (it always looks better on TV if there’s a big crowd) and they were afraid the weather was going to keep people away. My girlfriend and I rushed over as quick as we could, made it in, and got to see an incredible performance by Cohen and his band.

Watching an Austin City Limits taping can have it’s ups and downs. On the one hand it’s a very small soundstage so no matter where you’re sitting you’ll have great seats. On the other hand the sound in the actual room is often not that good, as they’re a lot more concerned about the recording itself, not the room sound. And, because it’s a television taping there can sometimes be odd stops and starts while they change tape, fix problems, etc. It can affect the flow and the energy of a live performance. Some artists can handle it better than others. But some of the shows I saw there over the years were just plain terrific. For many, many years I wondered why none of the great music made for Austin City Limits was available on LP or CD. There was an occasional release here and there: a collection of country or blues artists. A few bands liked their performances well enough to work out a deal to release it as an album. Bootleg audio and video recordings of just about every show circulated among collectors for years. I used to try and tape the shows I was interested in and have a small collection. Everything changed in 2004 when ACL struck a deal with the California based New West Records and the floodgates began to open (though not quite as fast, deep or wide as one might hope). Still, it’s a beginning.

I have most of the CDs and DVDs that have been released in the Live From Austin TX series. There are about two dozen CDs and the same amount of DVDs at this point I think. Some performances are available in both formats and some in just one or the other. My favorite of all that I have is the John Hiatt performance from 1993 (it’s available in both formats). I’ve been a Hiatt fan for a long time, well before his big breakthrough album Bring The Family in 1987, which, believe it or not, was his eighth album (and his fourth label). He’s an outstanding live performer, but there’s only been one official live album, 1994’s Hiatt Comes Alive At Budokan? which I never really listened to much. There’s also an “unofficial” live album from 1993, Live At The Hiatt, that was released only through his fan club which I also have. Again, it was fine, but it didn’t really seem to capture the live experience very well. So, I wasn’t expecting a lot when I threw on the Austin City Limits show to give it a listen. Boy, was I surprised. This show is red hot from start to finish. Hiatt, and especially his band, are in excellent form. Hiatt seems especially energized and the set list is top notch. Hiatt is, of course, a phenomenal songwriter, but even he has a few duds here and there. I can honestly say that every song from this show is one of his best.

Recorded as Hiatt was touring to promote his Perfectly Good Guitar album, the show opens with “Icy Blue Heart,” a fantastic slow acoustic ballad from the Slow Turning album. But things kick into a much faster gear immediately after with “Loving A Hurricane,” “Your Dad Did” and the classic “Memphis In The Meantime.” Three of my favorite all-time John Hiatt songs are included: “Buffalo River Home,” “Tennesse Plates” and “Perfectly Good Guitar.” There are numerous other highlights, including a splendid version of “Angel” and a graceful performance of “Have A Little Faith In Me.” Hiatt let’s his rambunctious side loose throughout these raucous performances. He had a terrific young band in tow for this tour, The Guilty Dogs, featuring Michael Ward (from School Of Fish) on guitar, Micahel Urbano on drums and Davey Faragher on bass (the same band appears on Hiatt Comes Alive At Budokan?). I think the main reason this ACL album sounds so much better to me is because it’s one continuous performance and the rhythm, flow and energy make the disc something special. Hiatt Comes Alive At Boudokan? is a mixed affair drawn from almost a dozen different venues and performances the next spring. With almost every song coming from a different night it just sounds disjointed. The ACL show is something entirely different and you can hear, feel (and see) Hiatt and band as they build towards a fabulous crescendo.

As I said earlier I’m happy to see any of the ACL archives released officially. I just wish they would go back a little further and start releasing more of the shows from the late 70s. And there are some incredible “group” shows like the “Songwriters’ Special” from 1980, the “West Texas Songwriters’ Special” from 1982 and the “Songwriters’ Special” from 1986 that I would dearly love to see released. With over 30 years now, we’re talking about well over 300 different performances. I know they can’t release them all, and I know my favorites might not be the most “commercially” viable. But, hey a guy can always dream, right?

Other Listens on July 15th:
Jesse Winchester by Jesse Winchester

I’ve bought an album by a new artist (or just new to me) for lots of different reasons: I was familiar with and admired the producer of the album; I had heard a song the artist did covered by another artist; musicians I was familiar with played on the album; I heard a song on the radio or saw a performance on TV or live; someone I knew and trusted wrote the liner notes; a friend told me about it; etc. But I think this may be the only album that I ever purchased strictly because of the cover. Jesse Winchester’s self titled debut album was released in 1970 on the Ampex Records label. The label only lasted two or three years though they did release about forty or fifty albums, including Great Speckled Bird, Runt and The Ballad Of Todd Rundgren by Todd Rundgren, For Sale by Fever Tree and a whole lot of other stuff even I have never heard of. Winchester’s album was the fourth disc from the label. I ran across it in 1972 in a cut-out bin somewhere in Santa Monica. I can’t remember for sure, but I probably paid about 99¢ in those days. Now, it’s possible that the fact that Robbie Robertson (from The Band) produced the disc might have also influenced by decision to buy it, but really, it was the cover: a grainy, washed out, dark brown sepia close-up photograph of a very down and out, scruffy, despondent looking character who looked like he just stepped out of the Civil War. It was very intriguing. And what I liked even more was that the back cover was the exact same image! (Imagine my surprise when I bought it, took it home and opened it up only to find it was a “gatefold” cover and the exact same image was also used on both of the inside panels.) Now I’m sure this cover would not have the same effect on a lot of people, and there’s really not much to it, but something about it just drew me in and made me want to find out what this guy sounded like.

Jesse Winchester is one of my all-time favorite singer-songwriters. There’s no one else like him. He’s written so many great songs I wouldn’t know where to begin listing them. Well, actually, that’s not true. I can begin right here on his debut album which contains my very favorite song of his ever, “Yankee Lady.” There are ten other songs on the album, all written by Winchester, of which at least one is a true classic (“The Brand New Tennessee Waltz”). Several of his other albums, notably Third Down, 110 To Go and Let The Rough Side Drag are among my all-time favorite releases. He’s only made three albums in the last thirty years but his seventies output is second to no one.

The album is a decidedly “low tech” affair, whether on purpose or not, I don’t know. The sound is very rough, but in a way that suits the songs perfectly. Things kick off with the raucous “Payday”, Winchester’s ode to money in the pocket on a Friday night. His voice is bathed in echo, the drums are hard and fast and the lead guitar (I think it must be Robertson) is recorded just a little too “hot,” peaking out and distorting a tiny bit throughout the track. The distorted guitar returns on “Quiet About It” and the piano on “Skip Rope Song” is the same, a little “fuzzy” around the edges. This is by no means a “state of the art” sonic experience. It’s a rough and tumble, gritty and uncompromising, a perfect counterbalance to Winchester’s wonderfully smooth, gentle and yet, very raw and powerful vocals. Winchester would go on to make much “smoother” albums later in his career (Nothing But A Breeze and A Touch On The Rainy Side are almost exact opposites in sound respects from this album). But the sound of this album gives it a character and personality that is unique among his releases.

On song after song Winchester constructs near perfect vignettes of people and places. ”Biloxi” (featuring a stately piano, a slowly picked acoustic guitar and shimmering cymbals) is another one of Winchester’s better known songs, the kind of plaintive, descriptive ballad he would later perfect on a song like “Mississippi You’re On My Mind.” There’s a touch of humor in “Snow,” a song he co-wrote with Robertson. Winchester is a southern boy from Memphis, Tennessee who moved to Montreal, Canada in 1967 because he refused to serve in the military. “I was tuning in the six o’clock newscast, And the weather man mentioned snow / As soon as I heard that four-letter word, I was making my plans to go.” The love songs, “That’s The Touch I Like” and “Skip Rope Song” are also highlights, but “Yankee Lady” and “The Brand New Tennessee Waltz” are the true standouts here. “The Brand New Tennesse Waltz” has been covered by people like Joan Baez, Sweethearts Of The Rodeo and The Everly Brothers while “Yankee Lady” has been recorded by Tim Hardin, Brewer & Shipley and others. But no one else even comes close to Winchester’s originals. Those two songs alone make this album worth having. Winchester has a dark side as well. “Rosy Shy” and especially the moody, almost spooky, “Black Dog” show a distinctly different side of things. The album ends the same way it began with “The Nudge,” a rowdy tip of the hat to loose women. 

Jesse Winchester was out of print for a long time until the great Canadian label Stony Plain released it on CD in 1994 (along with the rest of his incredible catalog). It’s now also available through the Wounded Bird reissue label. Wounded Bird also released on CD for the first time a wonderful live album, Live At The Bijou Cafe, a promotional only radio station release from 1976 (though to be honest, Wounded Bird is notorious for poor quality sounding reissues and this is just one example). Jesse hasn’t made a new album in almost ten years, since his 1999 Sugar Hill release Gentleman Of Leisure. He still tours a bit, playing festivals, performing arts theaters and clubs. I’d sure like to see a new album one of these days. Until then though I’m quite happy with the ones he’s already given us.

Other Listens on July 14th:
Hollywood Pocketknife by Eric Taylor

I had a lot of misgivings about this album. I didn’t buy it for almost a year after it was released. And the only reason I finally picked it up then was because Circuit City was having a storewide sale on CDs and it was one of the only things I could find that I was even remotely interested in (and I had to buy something!). My misgivings were for two reasons: on the one hand, though I consider myself a big, big Patti Smith fan (see my post about Horses), I am not been particularly fond of the four albums she’s made since 1996 (Gone Again, Peace And Noise, Gung Ho and Trampin’); and on the other hand I am always slightly suspicious of “cover” albums. It’s rare that an artist can really pull it off. Covers can be the greatest things in the world. There’s nothing like hearing a new version of a song that breathes new life into it or simply takes it to a place that the original didn’t. But they can also be the worst things in the world. There’s nothing as bad as a limp cover version that brings absolutely nothing new to the table and only makes you long to hear the original. (See my post about Shelby Lynne’s recent cover album of Dusty Springfield songs). Now, most artists can come up with a killer cover given the opportunity. A lot of it has to do with finding a song that fits them, one that they can “interpret” instead of just remake. One that suits their personality, their unique approach to music. But a whole album of covers? That’s much harder to do. There are, of course, famous examples that have succeeded mightily: Bowie’s Pin Ups, The Band’s Moondog Mantinee and Lennon’s Rock ‘n’ Roll. I found Shawn Colvin’s Cover Girl to be truly inspired, due in part to her dramatic reworkings of songs that you would think just couldn’t be done in a “folk” setting (like The Talking Heads’ “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)”). But those are the exceptions, rather than the rule. While Rod Stewart’s recent excursions into the “great American songbook” seems to have revitalized his sagging career and opened up a new avenue and audience for him, I find them almost unlistenable. Nanci Griffith’s admirable, but overly indulgent and way too high and mighty, self-important excursions on Other Voices, Other Rooms reveal how even the best intentions can miss the mark. My fear was that Patti Smith might be biting off more than she could chew.

Of course, let’s not forget that Patti’s magnificent, radiant, groundbreaking debut album Horses (see my post on that album) began with and was in some ways centered around a “cover,” her version (embellished as it was) of “Gloria.” And she also did a bang up, full out punk live rave of The Who’s “My Generation” as the B-Side of her first single. She included a stellar version of The Byrds’ “So You Want To Be (A Rock And Roll Star)” on her 1979 Wave album (it was even a minor hit). So, Patti is no stranger to covers and she’s usually pulled them off pretty well. Still, I was skeptical. It turns out my fears were not unfounded. Twelve is a very mixed bag. It’s mostly, as I suspected, due to the choice of material. But I think it’s more than that. Patti and the band seem to approach some of these songs with just way too much reverence and they seem to have a hard time making them their own. 

The album starts out on a promising note with a slow, semi-acoustic, almost mystical version of the Jimi Hendrix song “Are You Experienced.” Patti can be heard with some trademark spoken word recitals in the background and the track features an exceptional performance on the cello by Giovanni Sollima. But the following track, Tears For Fears’ “Everybody Wants To Rule The World,” is just plain wrong. Patti and the band are unable to come up with anything that can touch the gleaming pop of the original and it just doesn’t work. That’s pretty much the case throughout the album. Some of the songs work but many of them don’t. Covering classic songs like “White Rabbit,” “Gimme Shelter,” “Midnight Rider,” “Helpless” and “The Boy In The Bubble” is a dangerous undertaking, and one, I’m sorry to say, that Smith and company just can’t pull off here. Instead of “owning” the songs, finding something new in them and giving us a version like we’ve never heard before, they end up simply mirroring the originals for the most part. When Patti tackles a song that she can inhabit it works very well. She can be one of the most passionate singers on the planet and when that fire shines through it all comes together. But too many of these songs just fall flat, they have no purpose. It’s like Patti and the band are museum curators and it’s their job to record these songs for preservation purposes. In many cases the spirit, emotion, passion and energy of the original versions seems to be completely stripped away and there’s nothing new to replace it (the Beatles’ song “Within You Without You” and Neil Young’s “Helpless” are perfect examples of this).

Probably my biggest disappointment here is Smith’s version of “Changing Of The Guards” a little known Bob Dylan song from his vastly underrated Street Legal album. I was thrilled to see this listed as one of the songs but she just can’t connect with the song. The band plods along with a noticeable lack of energy and Patti just seems bored, reading the lyrics an autopilot with a noticeable lack of passion. In Dylan’s hands this is a truly hypnotic, mystic, almost transcendent piece of music. She takes it much too seriously and everything about the song seems lackluster. If she had approached this the way she dove headfirst into “Gloria” all those years ago it might have really been something special.

Still, there are a few other songs that work, most noticeably The Doors “Soul Kitchen” and Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” “Soul Kitchen” works, in part I think, because it’s the kind of song that fits Smith. If you’d never heard the Doors version you could easily mistake it for a song of her own. She manages to infuse the track with some new life and her vocals finally exhibit some fire and ardor. But the song that works the best on the entire album is “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” taken as an acoustic excursion with fiddle and banjo. Now, this is what I’m talking about! This is something new, this is original. It brings a whole new nature to the song while still retaining the essence of the original. Her rant near the end, as the band builds to an driving climax, is classic Patti Smith.

In the end Twelve is not a bad album. It’s just not necessary. It serves no purpose. There’s not much on this that can really justify its reason to simply exist. Somehow I suspect, unfairly or not, if Patti had made this covers album back in 1978, when she first considered the idea, it would have been an entirely different affair.

Other Listens on July 13th:
The Outsider by Tom Pacheco
Back Here On Earth by Gordon Lightfoot
Greatest Hits by James Gang 
Misery With A Beat by Paul Kennerley
Down This Road by The Wrights