Album #120: Tears for Fears - Songs from the Big Chair

Tears For Fears

Songs From The Big Chair (1985)

After the monstrosity that was Here Come The Drums the other day, I was forced to listen to Tears For Fears' classic track Head Over Heels, to wipe the heinous memory of Rogue Traders from my mind.

Upon completing my listen, I realised that I really, really wanted to review a Tears For Fears album. Not only because they're a great band (with the distinction of having their first three albums chart massively in Britain) but because I've always felt that they've not received all the credit they deserve, being overshadowed by other pop artists. Despite me trying to steer away from the obvious sometimes, I felt there was no better album to choose than the one that is considered their defining album, Songs From The Big Chair.

My main question was a bit like when I reviewed Icehouse though - is it just singles, or is there something more to Tears For Fears?

The Album

Unlike Icehouse, there's something more. The band's lush arrangements and production, utilising a standard 80s blend of guitars, bass, drums and synths, are key features not just of the singles but of the album tracks also. Additionally, it's the way that the band fuse together all those swirly layers of synthesiser and guitar that give the songs a particular personality. The hero of the album though is bandleader and chief songwriter Roland Orzabal. It would do him a disservice to say he's just a pop songwriter - sure, he penned his share of great hooks on this album - but there's also nuance, feeling and craft present in his work here....and not just on the big songs.

Those three big songs though are absolute monsters, and all are deservedly thought of as some of the most instantly recognisable from the 80s. Shout is a sprawling, synth/bass driven ode to protest, with a jangly guitar lick playing a supporting role throughout. Orzabal's lead vocal is splendid, sending tingles down the spine at times, and there's even a fairly simple, yet powerful, guitar solo at the song's conclusion. Everybody Wants To Rule The World is sublime pop; all instruments work together and, at times, take the lead (the verses are basically synth and bass, while the guitars play prominence during the choruses...and there's even a couple of guitar solos to boot). The song is brilliantly crafted (witness the guitar-driven bridge in the mid-section which breaks the song up beautifully) and Curt Smith's vocal of some more quality Orzabal lyrics about the powerhungry is terrific. Head Over Heels is a superb pop love song, though (and this may be controversial) it's my least favourite of the three. Synths again drive the song, which interestingly falls in the middle of a kind of sonata (sandwiched by the song Broken twice, albeit with the second version being live and abbreviated).

Outside of those three big songs (and accompanying sonata tune) there's only four other tracks on the album, and they are a bit of a mixed bag. The tender, touching ballad I Believe (written by Orzabal originally for Soft Machine drummer, and 60s prog legend, Robert Wyatt) is a brilliant, brilliant tune. Lush piano fills the soundscape, supported by flourishes of saxophone, while Orzabal's vocals alternate between a soft, heartfelt croon and, later, more powerful acclamations. Listen is a pretty tune with a very hooky melody, with anthemic synth strings, wind chimes and opera vocals - in fact, it has many hallmarks of ELO-style pop. Unfortunately, it might be pretty (and Curt Smith, again, does a great job on lead vocal) but it really meanders around, not going anywhere. The Working Hour overdoes the sax solos horribly (funny sidenote- the man providing the sax solos on the album, Will Gregory, is now one half of the electronic duo Goldfrapp) but there's enough of the lavish Tears For Fears musical style present to, again, make the song a decent listen. Lastly, Mother's Talk, which was a single from the album also, is nowhere near the same class as the other monstrously successful songs. Yes, its mountainous-sounding drums rumble with pure power, and the synthbass line is pretty damn cool, but there's no hook to speak of and because there's no hook to attach to, this pop song ends up....well, not very poppy at all. It's the only song on Songs From The Big Chair I didn't like at all.

The Verdict

Songs From The Big Chair is surprisingly good. Those classic songs help, of course; they'd be worth stars on their own; but even some of the album tunes have that earcatching Tears For Fears trademark sound. It'd be a great driving album for when you're touring through boring country, because there's plenty of interest going on in each soundscape.

I'd recommend it, especially if you already know/like some (or all) of the band's big hits.

My rating: ****

Standout Tracks

Shout

Everybody Wants To Rule The World

I Believe

Head Over Heels

Album #119: Motley Crue - Shout At The Devil

Motley Crue

Shout At The Devil (1983)

Before Motley Crue became the commercially appealing glam metal stars responsible for songs like Kickstart My Heart, their style was more akin to straight-up heavy metal. Their first few albums were recorded in that style before their sound shifted noticeably.

Shout At The Devil, the band's second album, is one of those heavy metal Crue albums. While it didn't produce the big hits of later records, it still contains a few songs that are Crue classics. It would have probably made more sense to review one of the band's glam releases, but to be honest I was interested to find out just how dramatically the band changed their sound from the early part of their career, compared to their sound as glam superstars.

The Album

There's no doubt that Shout At The Devil is definitely heavier than the group's later releases. The riffs are thick, chunky and thunderous, the bass and drums rumble powerfully and the vocals alternate between a soaring wail and a...well, wail that is lower in register. Yet soaring vocals, courtesy of the superb Vince Neil, and powerful, kickass riffs (thanks to axe maestro Mick Mars) have always been a key component of the Motley Crue sound. Really, upon reflection, the elements of the 'glam' sound are all here in spades.

The album's title track stands head and shoulders above the rest. With a riff that invites the aggressive throwing of horns, and Neil's magnificent metal vocal work, it's arguably the first truly fucking amazing Crue song; and somehow, at the song's close, when the riff and the drums pick up in pace, it somehow becomes even more crunchy and ballsy. There are also elements of stadium rock in there, especially in the short vocal/drum only breakdown and the cavernous production of the song.

Speaking of cavernous production, there are a few other tracks that seem to have been recorded with a 'live feel' in mind. Red Hot, another standout track, has a positively huge drum sound; they boom and reverberate seemingly forever, and it helps that it's one of Tommy Lee's standout efforts. This is accompanied by a seriously cool riff, the combination of which results in a pretty cool song. Too Young To Fall In Love and Bastard also stand out for their huge sound and sweet riffwork (the latter also has one of the shreddiest, and best, solos on the album.) The band's cover of Helter Skelter is also quite good. As I've written before, the mark of a good cover is that it retains the spirit and elements of the original while managing to sound entirely like the band covering it...and Crue do that here, as Mars does Paul McCartney's original riff justice and Neil pulls out a fine vocal effort (surprisingly though, Lee can't compete with the original drumming of Ringo Starr....work that out if you can.)

Other decent tracks are album closer Danger, which hovers dangerously close to prog metal territory, thanks to a picked guitar motif, synth strings and a soaring Neil vocal (it takes the prize for Lee's best drumming on the album); and the Mick Mars guitar solo piece God Bless The Children Of The Beast, featuring a wonderful picked acoustic riff as the meat and veg of the tune, while Mars plays a multitracked electric solo over the top like some sort of heavenly condiment (WORST. ANALOGY. EVER.)

Outside of those songs, while there's nothing crap and the album remains a fun listen, songs like Ten Seconds To Love, Knock 'Em Dead, Kid and Looks That Kill serve as stock standard metal album filler tunes, with less interesting riffs and by-the-numbers vocals. Though I must emphasise they remain fun, mindless tunes that you'll still find yourself tapping your foot to....they just aren't particularly outstanding nor even inventive.

The Verdict

Some of my research into the album informed me that there are many fans of Motley Crue who claim this to be the band's greatest work, and that everything after this was a 'sellout'. I don't know if that's fair - I think their glam period produced some catchy rock tunes - but Shout At The Devil is certainly a very good album. It's got something for everyone - it's very straight up 80s heavy metal, but there's enough here that reminds you of the band's later glory years.

I rather enjoyed it, at any rate.

My rating: *** and a half

Standout Tracks

Red Hot

Shout At The Devil

Bastard

Album #118: Rogue Traders - Here Come The Drums

Rogue Traders

Here Come The Drums (2005)

Rogue Traders are that dance/electro/rock/synth/whateverthefuckelsewecansqueezein/pop band that were nobodies until they recruited Natalie Bassingthwaite from Neighbours on lead vocals. Suddenly, with a bit of extra public exposure, and armed with an array of radio-friendly dancepop singles, Rogue Traders went BOOM, and it was this album that did it. 

It has been requested a number of times (by the same person, mind you) so it's time to get it out of the way and remind myself just how many of the songs I actually know because television was saturated with them (radio was too but I don't listen to shit radio stations).

The Album

Turns out I know quite a few of them because of the saturation. Perhaps that's also credit to the chief songwriter, James Appleby/Ash/whatever, who certainly knows how to write a hook or two.

At least, he would, if he WASN'T RIPPING MOST OF THE BLOODY HOOKS OFF FROM OTHER, BETTER, MUSICIANS AND SONGS.

Allow me to explain. Voodoo Child would be bad enough because of its banal, shitty lyrics that bleat on while saying sweet fuck all of interest or importance. However, you decided to set those banal, shitty lyrics to the main riff from Elvis Costello's Pump It Up. YOU DESTROYED ELVIS COSTELLO WITH YOUR SHITHOUSE 'TALENT'. FUCK YOU, ROGUE TRADERS. But it gets worse - Watching You takes the lyrical quality of Voodoo Child and wipes its diarrhoea-stained arse with it, somehow providing a set of lyrics that are worse, and again decides to destroy the riff from The Knack's My Sharona. Those are two of the album's singles. Neither particularly original.

But then.

THEN.

There's In Love Again.

I can forgive the lousy synthpop that's trying to be all anthemic and emotional.

I can overlook the fact that the song is as boring as an episode of Love Child and that Bassingthwaite sounds disinterested.

What I can't overlook, or forgive, is that you devote the last two minutes to a nasty thieving of the la-la-la-la part of Tears For Fears' sublime, anthemic tune, Head Over Heels.

Now I must be honest, my reaction (as typed in my listening notes) to this unexpected development was this:

·         WHAT THE FUCK

·         WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

·         YOU FUCKING COCKHEADS

·         THIS IS HEAD OVER HEELS

·         BY TEARS FOR FEARS

·         AN ACTUAL BAND

·         YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR YOU UNTALENTED THIEVING DISEASED PROLAPSED ANUSES

·        SULLYING THE FINE WORK OF ROLAND ORZABAL AND CURT SMITH FOR YOUR FUCKING VOMITOUS SYNTHPOP

·        DIE IN A FIRE

      

      I think that just about says it all, really.

      Elsewhere, it's more of the same. Twelfth-rate lyrics to 'edgy' 'rocky' 'dancepop' (evidenced by the songs Believer and World Go Round), while the utterly deplorable Fashion makes twelfth-rate lyrics seem like fucking Bob Dylan ("Get rich/stay kitsch/give me another hit" perfectly sums up this collection of vacuous, self-obsessed wankbadger lyrics). And as for We're Coming Home, I'm pretty sure if you play the song's backwards samples forwards, it's a recording of somebody saying "CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE" because this song is chock full of them.

      

      Yet would you believe that in this sea of retarded poetry and airheaded cultural fuckheadedness there are actually two songs that aren't complete and utter rhinoceros shit. Way To Go! (one of the many singles) is the only one of the dancepop songs where the bounce and energy of the band (and the vocalist) doesn't sound forced; it genuinely comes off as an enjoyable, club-ready party song, and the guitar riff has a pleasant ballsy chug. There's also Rescue Me, which appears to be the obligatory ballad of the album. Even though it starts with what sounds like an interpretation of whalesong played by an out of tune $20 guitar made by a blind/deaf luthier in Mauritania, and even if it might sound like the bastard child of Roxette and Aqua, it's a welcome change to hear a different aesthetic to fucking cringeworthy 'dancepop'. The beats are gentler, the guitars are subtle and melodic, and it's a great showcase for Bassingthwaite who proves that she has a sweet, pure vocal in her armoury. It's songwriting with nuance and I can't actually believe that it was written by the same people who wrote all the other crap on this record.

The Verdict

No.

My rating: half a star

Standout Tracks

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH no seriously:

Way to Go!

Rescue Me

Album #117: Cream - Disraeli Gears

Cream

Disraeli Gears (1967)

Cream may very well be the most famous musical accident of all time. A band formed because of a combination of Ginger Baker's dissatisfaction with the Graham Bond Organisation, as well as admiration of Eric Clapton's guitar skills witnessed at a Bluesbreakers gig, it was only a lift home given to Clapton by Baker that resulted in the two hooking up musically to form a new band. At Clapton's insistence, Graham Bond bassist Jack Bruce was asked to join on bass and vocals (which prompted Baker to almost crash his car, apparently, such was the level of hatred he had for his former bandmate). 

However, the two managed to set their differences aside long enough for Cream to form and release several albums. Starting (unsurprisingly) as a blues band, with 1967's Disraeli Gears Cream joined many of their contemporaries in the psychedelic set, departing significantly from the blues sound. It ended up being considered the group's masterwork.

And can you believe, growing up in a Clapton-worshipping household, that I've never heard it. So I remedied that.

The Album

It's no surprise that Disraeli Gears sounds like three extraordinarily talented musicians at the height of their youthful powers. Almost every track cracks and sizzles with the whippy power of Baker's drumming, the groove-laden fluidity of Bruce's bass playing, and, of course, the effortless blues of Clapton's guitar. It's also a testament to the band's abilities that while the safe harbour of the blues tracks are outstanding, those psychedelia-meets-proto hard rock songs, where the group were stepping out of their comfort zone, are every bit their equal.

The first two songs are easily in Cream's top five tunes. Strange Brew is every inch a blues song, despite Clapton's faraway near-falsetto vocal; his bluesy riffs and licks fill every empty space in the music, and his solo calls to mind the work of many of the legendary blues guitarists of the 50s and early 60s. But it's the following tune, Sunshine Of Your Love, that has become both Cream signature and cover band staple because of its sheer majesty. That well-known riff (written by Jack Bruce on a double bass) is matched by Clapton's wailing guitar and a half-shuffle/half-African drumbeat from Baker. Its brilliance is all the more remarkable for its sheer simplicity; it's just guitar, drums and bass throughout, with only Clapton's wonderful solo being overdubbed (and thank goodness because it is a FUCKING BRILLIANT piece of blues guitar playing.)

From there the album turns down the psychedelic path, though mixed with the sort of early hard rock stylings that The Who and Jimi Hendrix would popularise. World Of Pain features a wah-heavy riff from Clapton and some aurally wobbly harmonies from Bruce and Clapton to give that psychedelic feel, while on Dance The Night Away, Clapton's guitar is inspired by the surf guitar sound while Baker turns into a lead drummer, carrying the song with his manic drumwork. Tales of Brave Ulysses features rather stream-of-consciousness lyrics written by the album's cover designer, Martin Sharp, based on Homer's Odyssey, and the riff is rather similar to the band's own track White Room. SWLABR is the finest 'psychedelic rock' tune here and a real hidden gem. Lyrically, it's rather clever, using metaphors to describe the flaws of a girl who is otherwise amazing, but musically the song kills; the rumbling groove of Bruce's bass matched perfectly by Baker's sharp drumming, while Clapton does his thing, riffing and soloing with melody and dexterity.

Towards the album's close, Cream return to the blues with one fantastic track (Clapton's arrangement of an old blues standard Outside Woman Blues) and one decent track (Take It Back). The former, sung by Clapton in proper American blues style, features a nifty, catchy little blues lick for a riff, but the real star is Bruce, producing a bassline that merely confirms his status amongst the bass greats. The latter, written by Bruce with regular collaborator Pete Brown, is a mild variation on the 12-bar structure with a pleasant harmonica solo from Bruce....but not much else, really.

Only three tracks here don't really justify their inclusion in my view - Blue Condition, penned by Baker, tends to confirm the uniquely 60s truism that drummers shouldn't write songs other than drum solos because they're awful (Baker's weak, bland lead vocal does nothing to help this); We're Going Wrong is pure psychedelia with a Middle Eastern feel (created by Clapton's riff), and given the power and energy of the other songs here it comes across as being rather quite listless; and Mother's Lament is tacked onto the end, the three band members mucking about with an old folk song to seemingly fill in time.

The Verdict

Disraeli Gears justifies the hype, for the most part. Cream are the most powerful of the great power trios, in my view, and this album manages to convey all the things that made Cream burn so brightly, albeit for a very short period of time (the band were only together for about three years).

Lovers of Clapton, or of guitar/bass players in general, would definitely enjoy this album if they haven't heard it already.

My rating: ****

Standout Tracks

SWLABR

Strange Brew

Sunshine Of Your Love

Album #116: Powderfinger - Internationalist

Powderfinger

Internationalist (1998)

Powderfinger's third album Internationalist was said to be, at that point in their careers at any rate, their most experimental work yet. Previous album Double Allergic had been the group's first real success, though it was built on a bedrock of straightforward, if tuneful, alt-rock. By comparison, Internationalist saw the band playing with several different structures and musical styles, as well as maturing their songwriting skills.

It also happens to be the first album I heard by the band in its entirety, and it's for that reason I've selected it for a look back at.

The Album

Darlings of youth radio they may have been at the time, but reflection on the album (particularly a couple of its singles) yields the inescapable conclusion that this is largely radio-friendly commercial rock. It's pretty good radio-friendly commercial rock, but nevertheless it's hooky choruses and riffs packaged in generally careful arrangements and produced in an inoffensive manner. Consequently, it's a good listen overall even if it rarely reaches a crashing high.

Those singles have received significant airplay over the years. Passenger is the best known of them and is pretty good, creating an emotional atmosphere through its lush arrangement (featuring horns, which I had never heard on the song until listening through headphones) and with lyrics that do a decent job of portraying dull routine. The Day You Come is almost as good, its staccato guitar riff juxtaposed nicely with the steady bass line through the verses; and the choruses take on an ethereal quality with floaty instruments and Bernard Fanning's multitracked, delayed and reverberating vocal. Already Gone is pleasant enough but nothing to get excited about. However, the pick is the double A-side, Don't Wanna Be Left Out/Good Day Ray. On the album these are two separate songs, though both have an overarching theme of speedy, raucous rock that skirts the fringe of punk - cracking tempos, feral guitars and some mighty fine fill-heavy drumwork from Jon Coghill.

A couple of album tracks also provide welcome highlights. Belter certainly is; an urgent, gutsy stadium rock tune that really should be the opening track on the album (I firmly believe it's a perfect set opener to a live show, to be honest), thanks to its monster riff and singalong chorus. Celebrity Head is a manic, satirical slam on uppity music writers and reviewers, skewing some of the members of that world to great effect. Musically, it's got another driving tempo, created by a decent riff and some bombastic horns in the chorus. Capoicity is a song that objectively isn't that flash, it's a bit too long and pointlessly noodly. However, I find it to be a remarkably smooth, relaxing and beautiful song to listen to, especially in the last minute or so when Fanning's vocal ceases to be a kind of stage whisper and blooms into something powerful and commanding. The guitars wander effortlessly through pleasing melodies and the drumming is suitably gentle. I realise saying it's not flash yet it's smooth and beautiful is a bit of a contradiction...but I can think of no way to describe it better. I really like the song even though it really is fairly average.

The remaining tracks are more miss than hit. Hindley Street starts as random guitar noodling and somehow manages to go even more nowhere than that, Trading Places and Private Man show promising signs of playing around with different arrangements but don't have any moments that really appeal to the senses, and the rootsy Over My Head is like the Ringo song of Internationalist - the 'give Darren Middleton a song so that he shuts up' approach laid bare.

The Verdict

Internationalist's biggest hurdle is that - at sixteen years old this year - some songs have aged remarkably well, while others sound fairly tired and uninspired. Their popularity however is undeniable and, frankly, understandable - it's the sort of rock that people who can't handle anything edgy would listen to to say that they listen to 'edgy' rock, and it's also decent standard pop rock that at least tries to do unique things with pop structures.

Plus it can't be denied that, for the most part, the album (and the band) produce good quality, highly listenable tunes. 

My rating: ***

Standout Tracks

Good Day Ray

Celebrity Head

Belter

Album #115: Violent Soho - Hungry Ghost

Violent Soho

Hungry Ghost (2013)

Violent Soho are another one of those local Aussie bands that Triple J are happy to flog the crap out of just so you can't criticise them for only playing hip hop or fucking shithouse dubstep or seventeenth-rate EDM. The members of the band proudly list Sonic Youth, Nirvana and other 90s alternogrunge bands as influences, and have spent the last few years slogging their way around Australia, playing gigs and recording albums (you know, the old fashioned way of getting your tunes out there and doing what you love).

Last year was arguably the band's real breakout year, though. They released their third album, Hungry Ghost (which has some rather lurid, craptacular cover art, it must be said), which featured the song Covered In Chrome, a top 20 song in the 2013 Hottest 100. The album, and the song, are the first charters the band has had in Australia, with the album reaching a creditable number 6 on the charts.

I thought it might be nice to check it out.

The Album

The 90s grunge influence is all over this album. Ballsy, dirty riffs abound, supported by powerful, energetic drumming and vocals that are not so much singing as they are bellowing into the microphone. This is tied together by a production aesthetic that keeps the music loud, powerful and dynamic, while allowing the quieter parts of the songs to be clearer in sound. To the band's credit, there are also a few tracks where they demonstrate more of an indie pop/rock sensibility, turning the volume down slightly on the cacophonous riffwork.

Cacophonous riffwork though is the theme of the day. Opening duo Dope Calypso and Lowbrow combine grungy riffs with careful building of intensity through the verse (in typical grunge style), though the latter features a bridge that constitutes rather an interesting musical shift, being melodic and more atmospheric. Covered In Chrome has a great, catchy riff structure that's got plenty of crunch, however the trite, second rate lyrics make the vocal sound like the fauxest of faux outrage (plus the YEEAHYEAAHYEEAHYEEAH bit is downright fucking annoying). Gold Coast and Liars keep the bog-standard grunge coming, while Eightfold veers more towards the post-hardcore pairing angry, energetic riffs with a wildly manic vocal line.

Through the middle of the album Violent Soho demonstrate a more nuanced approach, and dare I say it, this is the most musically interesting portion of the album. Saramona Said and OK Cathedral take a more commercial alternative path and sound perfect for high rotation on Triple M (and I mean that not in a disrespectful way), while Fur Eyes is the closest thing on the album to an indie pop song - harmonies, sweet guitar licks and a strong focus on melody replace the monster riffs and angsty vocals. It is also quite a good little song. Even In The Aisle, despite it also being quite a speedy, rocking tune has some subtle differences that mark it as closer to indie/post-punk in sound, like Interpol on steroids.

The Verdict

If Hungry Ghost represents the full arrival of Violent Soho as a feature part of the Australian music scene, then it's certainly a good way to mark that arrival. It's a decent, driving rock album with enough subtlety to mark Violent Soho as a band to watch through their next couple of releases. It doesn't set the world on fire, and sometimes all that fire and energy seems to be for show, but it gets the blood pumping and is a nice alternative to all that jangly meandering indie that fills the airwaves.

My rating: ***

Standout Tracks

Fur Eyes

Eightfold

In The Aisle

Up next: an Australian band named after a Neil Young song. 

Album #114: The Move - Message From The Country

The Move

Message From The Country (1971)

By 1970, The Move were essentially finished as a band. A number of lineup changes had seen the group left as a three piece, with only multi-instrumentalist Roy Wood and drummer Bev Bevan left from the original lineup; they had been joined by former Idle Race guitarist Jeff Lynne on the band's previous album Looking On. It wasn't the lineup changes that ensured The Move were a dead band walking; it was Wood and Lynne's exploration of the sounds and concepts that would result in the birth of Electric Light Orchestra. They were keen to leave The Move behind and explore this new direction.

Message From The Country was to be the band's final album. Recorded at the same time as some of the tracks that would end up on ELO's debut album, the group differentiated between the two by keeping any songs with cellos on the ELO side of the ledger, while songs featuring Roy Wood's array of saxophones would end up on the Move side. Nevertheless, some of the compositions and touches on this album are extremely similar to ELO's early work (both with and without Wood).

The Album

The album hits the ground running with the somewhat psychedelic, rumbling rocker Message From The Country. The extremely loud and heavy bass is highly prominent, and turns out to be an overarching theme of the whole album, though unlike other songs the drums don't match the bass and are a bit hollow. Lynne's lead vocal is supported by the heavily overdubbed vocal harmonies that would later become an ELO trademark. Ella James has more in common with the earlier Move sound - a harder edged, pop rock sound with a ferocious vocal from Wood, as does the thoroughly decent Until Your Mama's Gone, which combines throughout its five minutes a bluesy feel, created by buzzing guitars and saxophones and driven by the rhythm section, with a ragtime piano solo and an extended guitar solo.

However, the progressive direction that Wood had largely shifted the band towards a few years earlier is the dominant musical paradigm here. Though surprisingly, the album's most 'pop' moments come from Lynne, not Wood, whose solo contributions are fairly traditional. From Lynne, there's the solid No Time, an acoustic ballad with a complex arrangement featuring slide guitar, flutes and a double-tracked harmony vocal; The Minister, a sublime rock tune with a driving rhythm, a riff that could have been stolen via time machine from the 80s New Wave movement and brilliant vocal work from Lynne and Wood; and the proggy, ELO-lite The Words of Aaron, the highlight of which has to be Wood's brilliant bassline.

Wood's only radically different song is the disappointing It Wasn't My Idea To Dance, where his choir of different saxophones dominates the soundscape and the last two minutes are a freeform jam, where it seems all three musicians decided to play whatever they felt like. He and Lynne also cowrote the album closer My Marge, a tribute to the musical sound of the 30s and 40s; it's a vaudeville tune (just listen to Lynne's ye olde vocal stylings) and it's comfortably the shittiest song on the record, if not on any Move record.

As for Bevan, he may never have had a songwriting credit after this ever again, and he certainly was no singer, but he contributes to two of the most interesting tracks on the album - one as songwriter, the other as vocalist. As songwriter, he penned the Elvis Presley pastiche Don't Mess Me Up, which is an incredibly accurate likeness - it has everything that characterised Presley's music (a multitracked Wood and Lynne acting as Presley's backing singers The Jordanaires, a good Elvis impersonation from Wood and Lynne's shuffling, simple guitar solo). As vocalist, he takes the lead on Wood's superb Ben Crawley Steel Company, which is a pure country song, made all the more obvious by Bevan's incredibly deep, Johnny Cash-like vocal and Wood's lyrics which tell a typical country music tale of struggle, heartache and brutal revenge.

Interestingly, the five songs that later accompanied the re-release of the album (all singles and B-sides) are better than a lot of material that made it onto Message From The Country. Even to the end, The Move were quality popsters, even if they didn't want to be.

The Verdict

Perhaps it's my love of ELO, but I happen to believe that The Move are one of England's most underrated 60s/70s bands. Message From The Country is a good album that acts as a reminder of where the band had been, where they were at the time and where the members would be in the future. While Wood and ELO didn't really fit (he left during the recording sessions for the band's second album) his influence on the ELO sound is undeniable, and it's here on this album that the blueprint was firmly laid down.

I freely admit this album isn't for everyone but people who appreciate the classic British early prog sound will like it.

My rating: *** and a half

Standout Tracks

Message From The Country

The Minister

Ben Crawley Steel Company

Album #113: Billy Joel - Piano Man

Billy Joel

Piano Man (1973)

Billy Joel has a more troubled background as a musician (and person) than perhaps many are aware of. Serving time in a few bands before going solo at the start of the 1970s, he was signed to a rather restrictive ten-album deal to a label called Family Productions, releasing his debut, the little known Cold Spring Harbor in 1971. Unfortunately for Joel, this first album was a mess - label boss Artie Ripp had screwed up the mastering, resulting in the songs being played too fast and making Joel sound "like a Chipmunk". Worse than that, the terms of Joel's deal meant he had no ownership over any of his master tapes, and he had no publishing rights to any song he might write in the future.

Thankfully, Columbia Records were able to negotiate (for a rather hefty royalty deal) a release for Joel, and he responded by producing Piano Man, his second album and a quite introspective release. It was to launch Joel as a star (even if it hardly set the charts on fire), and featured two of his defining songs - the title track being one of them.

The Album

While most of the songs on Piano Man are straightforward piano-based rock tunes, there are definite country and gospel influences throughout also. Lyrically, the album explores an array of personal themes, from tales of Joel's early life in the New York suburbs to the trials and tribulations of his time spent as a piano bar entertainer, playing under a false name while his label contract was being sorted out; and, of course, there's the obligatory love songs written for his then girlfriend (one of which was a Valentine's Day gift from the then-broke singer).

Everybody goes on about the album's title track, and it's one of those ubiquitous drunken singalong songs that people only ever seem to know, or want to hear, when they're pissed. While it's been played TO DEATH over the forty years of its life so far, it's a great, heartfelt 'story' tune, with lyrics that describe actual customers at the piano bar that Joel (billed as Bill Martin) played at throughout 1972, just trying to earn a living. That now familiar piano progression, accompanied by mandolin and accordion, and the earworm chorus, are the key to the song's charm. Equally as important a 'signature song' is the album closer Captain Jack, a song I've always loved even though it's overly long and a little wanky. Written about Joel's suburban experiences, it describes the life of a drug-dependent loser who buys drugs from the eponymous drug dealer of the title (a real person, by the way. Arguably the arrangement is the cleverest part of the track - the verses, quiet and understated, represent the flat drudgery of life, the bold, bombastic, quicker choruses detail the purchase and shooting up of heroin and the associated high, and finally the instrumental bridge that links chorus to verse represents the comedown.

Yet the album's highlight for mine is the opener, Travelin' Prayer.  A rocking bluegrass/country tune that cracks along at a fearsome pace, it features some outstanding honky-tonk piano playing by Joel, and is the first evidence on the album of his ivory-tickling talent. This is matched by the insanely magical banjo playing of session muso Eric Weissberg (the man who played Dueling Banjos in the movie Deliverance, for those of you who enjoy watching movies where Ned Beatty is gangraped by American backwoodsmen while Burt Reynolds FUCKS SHIT UP). Album track Stop In Nevada is also rather enjoyable; a song about a woman leaving her family to start a new life, it's a punchy tune thanks to Joel's gutsy vocal, some sweeping string arrangements and an attempt to sound massive in the choruses. Touches of slide guitar also add a slight country twang. The string bombast is also seen on the Western-motif laden The Ballad of Billy The Kid, which is not an attempt to be historically accurate, and lyrically isn't great, but the multitude of string overdubs make it sound like something out of a movie soundtrack.

There's a few misses though. Worse Comes To Worst is uninspired pop rock with porn guitar, If I Only Had The Words (To Tell You) is an attempt to be a grand, sprawling piano ballad but ends up being rather a throwaway tune, while Ain't No Crime would be decent if it wasn't aping Elton John's piano rock sound (right down to the flickering organ lines and rock-solid riffage) and if Elton didn't already do it better. Joel's great albums that were truly cohesive works with very little in the way of weak spots was still a few years away, but the potential of the man is certainly here on Piano Man.

The Verdict

Piano Man is a decent, if somewhat inconsistent, album. It's typical of an early work from a long-term legendary artist, in that all the hallmarks that made the artist great are there, but it's obvious that polish is required. As a whole it's not Joel's greatest work but there are enough tunes here to keep you fairly interested from start to finish.

My rating: ***

Standout Tracks

Travelin' Prayer

Piano Man

Captain Jack

Album #112: Sambo - Jack In The Box

Sambo

Jack In The Box (2002)

In 2004, three friends and I ventured to Tasmania for a week to...well, basically sightsee, eat and drink our way around the state, enjoying fine Boags beverages and stuffing our faces with seafood. On one particular evening, we ventured to the Royal Oak Hotel in Launceston for a meal and a beer or nineteen. That night, we were treated to the solo acoustic sounds of Sambo (aka Tasmanian roots musician Samuel Bester, who is today a long-time fixture of the Tasmanian music scene). All of us rather enjoyed his work (as well as his use of the wah pedal with an acoustic guitar) and were sufficiently impressed enough to purchase a copy of his first album, Jack In The Box. 

It also helped that Sambo was a hell of a nice bloke.

Today I pulled it out for the first time in about five years and decided to give it a spin, so that I could listen to it with a more critical ear.

All I can say is, I must have been really drunk ten years ago.

The Album

Okay, maybe that's slightly unfair. For while Jack In The Box is not without its moments, and not without its charm, it's plagued by inexperience, from the rather trite lyrical content to the occasionally barely average vocals. At other times, though, I can see what we enjoyed; some tracks have an overflowing feeling of heart and warmth. There's certainly potential, and Sambo certainly has a fairly distinctive, rootsy voice (and he's a competent guitarist as well), but some of the tracks on the album just don't quite cut the mustard for a variety of reasons.

Waiting For The Plane is a perfect example of the album's issues. A rather catchy wah-guitar riff that had a strong whiff of funk on it is ruined somewhat by some rather questionable lyrics and a puzzlingly annoying vocal section later in the song. This pattern is repeated on songs such as Come On My Friend (which is in desperate need of a comma) and the wholly annoying hippie rock of Blue Sky Radio. This is not to mention the baffling jazzy showtune feel of Trouble, with its doowop backing vocals and a scat section that simply doesn't work, or 

Yet the songs that demonstrate Sambo's potential as a performer and songwriter are far more pleasant to listen to, and demonstrate either a more developed lyrical skill or utilise his talents as a soulful, skillful acoustic troubadour. The rootsy semi-ballad Come Sunshine is one of his best here, with a decent lyric, a great plaintive, yet hopeful, vocal and a sweet lilting melody created by his guitar and a piano. The pretty Came Here With Nothing evokes hints of Cat Stevens with its gently strummed guitar lines and Sambo's vocal stylings, a touch of Bob Dylan with the tasteful harmonica solo, and yet more decent folksy lyrics. Great Escape is at least an attempt to do something decent - a classic rock style tune, from the distorted riff to the Hammond style organ, although his vocal doesn't suit this sort of heavy tune. Sapphire is a fairly moody acoustic instrumental, the sort of thing people like Steve Howe and Steve Hackett used to chuck on Yes and Genesis albums (though nowhere near as technically good as those two). Nevertheless, there's a haunting beauty in the simplicity.

The irony of the whole thing is that this album was probably four or five years too early. Had it been released later, the stripped back, simple roots approach would have been rather popular. Instead, Sambo missed the boat slightly (though, having found some of his more recent material on the Triple J Unearthed website, I can report that his songwriting, and his voice, has acquired a very pleasing maturity, and I'm sorely tempted to explore his later recordings to see if he does this more consistently.)

The Verdict

Jack In The Box is a pleasant Sunday afternoon background noise album. It's not great, and at times it's downright annoying, but for an album written and recorded by an independent Tasmanian musician just trying to do what he loves, it shows a talent for soulful roots music and demonstrates that there are good musos who don't ever get the recognition they are striving for.

Despite my really drunk quip, I don't regret buying it, and you know what, if he played a gig in Victoria, I'd go see him. If only to remind him of a night in the Royal Oak Hotel in Launceston, when four drunken Victorians (well, three, actually, Richie was the designated driver) had a beer with him, told him he was really good, bought his albums and told him that he should totally play some gigs in Victoria.

And Sambo, should you ever read this, we're still waiting for those gigs.

My rating: ** and a half

Standout Tracks

Come Sunshine

Came Here With Nothing

Sapphire

Album #111: TISM - Machiavelli and the Four Seasons

TISM

Machiavelli and the Four Seasons (1995)

There's not really much one can say about the anarchic, anonymous musical collective known as TISM. They trampled (well, tiptoed I guess would be more accurate) through the Australian musical scene for twenty years, treating the industry, and fame in general, with the complete lack of respect that it deserved. Unafraid to lampoon anyone in the universe (including themselves), their humour and intellectual wankery belied their ability to write pop hooks; I would even argue their intellectual wankery was not put on, these were just intelligent men playing games with all the conventions of rock music.

The group never really enjoyed critical and commercial success (though I reckon they were aiming for that exact outcome), however there was a period when TISM became what they hated - a successful pop band. That period was 1995 with the release of Machiavelli and the Four Seasons. Fusing their previous cheesy alt-rock sound with a healthy dollop of synth-based dance music, the group hit the charts and even won an ARIA (famously accepted by Les Murray, who insulted everybody in Hungarian). It's the subject of today's review in an attempt to explain why the album was such a hit.

The Album

There are some cracking hit songs on Machiavelli, in keeping with TISM's ability to produce songs with a hook that stick in the ear, or that have you bopping along and singing the hook long after the song has finished.

There is also some abject shite, in keeping with TISM's ability to write songs that are abject shite.

It's a real mixed bag, in other words.

The good songs? Well, there's album opener (and competitor for best known TISM song) (He'll Never Be An) Ol' Man River, rather tastelessly referring to River Phoenix, yet despite all the tasteless references to dead celebrities there's a hidden undercurrent of satire, poking fun at the rather modern obsession with vapid celebrity gossip and culture. Musically it's built around a rather loud guitar riff and a pumping dance beat, while vocalists Ron Hitler-Barassi and Humphrey B. Flaubert do their thing. Greg! The Stop Sign!! is a catchy slice of dancepop meets Beach Boys pastiche (just listen to the backing vocals and the falsetto chorus), with a danceable hook, about your future not being set in high school. What Nationality Is Les Murray is a more gentle pop tune about the great SBS football legend, pondering his nationality; the real highlight though are all the samples of Les calling the football with his dulcet tones, which take me back to a much younger time....

Garbage is not, surprisingly; a pulsating, club-ready dance track that later incorporates some booming rock riffs, and vocals that target the youthful obsession with recycling motifs from classic rock, and Aussiemandias is half decent, a throwback to TISM's early alt-rock sound, with lyrics that out the average human as a racist piece of crap who treats everybody else like shit (so, you know, a good positive mood piece.

The shite songs? Give Up For Australia is pointless techno junk with no discernible purpose other than to annoy, Jung Talent Time has rather humourous lyrics (witness the list of barely famous douchebags they name, including themselves) set to bog-standard drum 'n' bass, How Do I Love Thee features pointless screamed lyrics over atonal dance crap and All Homeboys Are Dickheads takes a (fairly accurate) lyric and pairs it with fairly boring pap. The other unmentioned tracks aren't shite but are just....well, filler, really.

My biggest kudos though has to go to the sheer number of literary, cultural and musical references the band pack into the album. TISM have always had a bent for what others would call pretentious intellectualism...in fact, they bask in it. However, they're so good at incorporating it into their material that you can never be sure that it's a joke, even though you know that it is. That fact makes most of the non-awesome material at least interesting, as you listen to the band's cheeky, irreverent lyrics.

The Verdict

It's fair to say Machiavelli and the Four Seasons went big on the back of two songs - (He'll Never Be An) Ol' Man River and Greg! The Stop Sign!! - which were rather popular tunes, both making the Hottest 100 top 10 in 1995. In true TISM style, it offends just about everyone unapologetically, but generally wraps it up in a decent musical package. 

It's not a stunning album but its highlight cuts are terrific tracks that deserve an audience, even today...and are, to the band's credit, still relevant today. Though that probably reflects horribly on society, and not on TISM.

My rating: ***

Standout Tracks

What Nationality Is Les Murray?

(He'll Never Be An) Ol' Man River

Greg! The Stop Sign!!

Album #110: The Style Council - Our Favourite Shop

The Style Council

Our Favourite Shop (1985)

After leaving seminal mod revival band The Jam in the early 80s, Paul Weller sought a new musical challenge. Eschewing the mod rock/punk sound of his previous group, Weller took on a brand new set of inspirations, namely soul, funk, jazz and synthy new wave. Pairing up with former Dexy's Midnight Runner, keyboardist Mick Talbot, Weller formed The Style Council, a new group with a new sound.

The band was also a vehicle for Weller's political viewpoints. Disgusted with the state of Thatcherite Britain, especially if you weren't in the elite upper class, Weller used The Style Council as a conduit for his most politically biting, occasionally savage, lyrics. 

Our Favourite Shop, the album Weller himself describes as the 'culmination' of the band's musical visions, is up there with any punk album (if not exceeding them) in terms of sheer 'fuck you'-ness, even if, musically, it is anything but punk.

The Album

There's quite a range of styles and sounds on Our Favourite Shop - a veritable council of styles, if you will (OH I CANNOT BELIEVE I WENT THERE.) The only common thread is that all the songs, even the not so good ones, are pure pop; there's nothing aggressive or harsh, it's all sweetly produced with lots of jangly guitar, Hammond organ and piano, with other instruments added for extra emphasis.

Featuring on the album are several jazz numbers (Homebreakers and the instrumental title track are straight up jazz, while Down By The Seine is French flavoured, right down to the French accordion, and With Everything To Lose takes a more Latin jazz turn), some new wave tunes (the synthy The Lodgers and the Simply Red new wave/funk/R&B hybrid Boy Who Cried Wolf), by the numbers pop (Luck and Shout To The Top), a touch of reggae (All Gone Away) and even a few sonic nods to Weller's past life (the rocking, uptempo Walls Come Tumbling Down, the Kinksish Come To Milton Keynes, resplendent with strings, harps and horns, and A Man Of Great Promise).

As if that wasn't enough, the band even fits in an Eleanor Rigby clone, right down to the arrangement of solo vocal over string section (A Stone's Throw Away).

As I said, covers a lot of territory.

It's lyrically where this album shines, however, and interestingly, the anger, bitterness, disillusionment, hopelessness, despair and rage that Weller's lyrics (and drummer Steve White's on one song) convey are rarely, if ever, matched by the music. Musically, it's all sweetness and light while Weller's words snarl underneath. Take, for example, the first three tracks. Homebreakers takes aim at the Conservative government of the time, snarling about taking revenge on "whoever came up with this economy plan" and pointing out the sheer detached snobbery of the Tories' dismissive "move if there's no jobs in your town" approach to rising unemployment of the working classes. Yet the music is smooth, smoky jazz pop that is quite easy listening. All Gone Away is jangly, jaunty reggae; the lyrics talk about the desolation of a northern mining town (assumed to be Bradford) when there's no work for the town's main industry. Come To Milton Keynes is all optimism and light, as are the lyrics for the most part; however the song's denouement unveils the satire behind the curtain, pointing out that the optimistic New Town schemes were, really, doomed to failure (or at the very least sorely detached from reality.)

The politically charged theme continues from there, though not quite as obviously contrasting with the music. Internationalists essentially acts as a detailing of the socialist manifesto, A Stone's Throw Away bemoans 80s Britain's decent into police and political violence against disgruntled citizens, The Stand Up Comic's Instructions (featuring an enthralling guest vocal from comedian Lenny Henry) chides the white 80s comic set for their casual racism, The Lodgers attacks the conservative exploitation of aspirationalism.....by the end of the album you're in no doubt where Weller's loyalties lie.

The undoubted highlight - the perfect maelstrom of supercharged lyrics with supercharged music - comes in the form of Walls Come Tumbling Down. From the outset, with Weller's growled "You don't have to take this crap" directed to the listener, we have the scene set. Weller produces a vocal performance worthy of the attack-dog lyrics, passionate and angry, while the song's tempo and horn section act as a rousing call to arms. It's a great tune and it comes right at the end of the album....the wait is worth it.

The Verdict

It won't set your ears alight musically, but for diversity of styles and for observing a lyrical master at work, Our Favourite Shop is a rather good album. As a perfect encapsulation of the time of its recording, it works beautifully, and given the current conservative political climate, some of the lyrics go to show that, even thirty years later, some leopards never change their spots.

However, there are other themes that are peculiarly British (a charge that Weller has always had laid at him, and may be part of the reason he's never been overly successful outside of Britain) which can make it tough to connect to some tunes, especially if you have no knowledge of the political and social climate surrounding the album.

Nevertheless, it's decent, and it contains some songs that are among Weller's finest efforts.

My rating: *** and a half

Standout Tracks

Walls Come Tumbling Down

Homebreakers

Internationalists