Ted Garber - Live at Strathmore

I’ve got the love/hate thing going on with today’s singer/songwriters. For me, it seems there’s a lot of something going on, but there’s really no substance. Almost like the soul has been sucked out of the songwriter. A lot of ego, a lot of faux sensitivity, a lot of rubbish. By today’s standards, it seems that a singer/songwriter simply needs to know how to or attempt to tap into their sensitive side. Ted Garber takes that standard and crushes it, bringing back the elements of the craft that have been forgotten . . . storytelling that contains vivid imagery, emotional conveyance, pure and honest integrity, and a touch of humor that reminds us that the guy singing is still human. Garber crafted a near perfect album with American Rail, capturing the soulful essence of each tale he told, and handing it over to the listener like a snapshot from every roadside haunt that he visited. Now, with Live at Strathmore, we get the opportunity to hear a brand new set of songs played by a group of world class musicians and the tales have never been more uplifting! 

The Strathmore music program is one of those great programs that can enhance a musician’s songwriting abilities, but I’d rather spend time focusing on the end result . . . the music of Ted Garber. When I heard the rumblings across cyber space that this live album was being crafted, I naturally figured it was going to be a live recording of select tracks from American Rail with a few hidden surprises. What I got was actually the opposite . . . a live recording of hidden surprises and a single re-interpretation of one of American Rail’s gems. Bold, Mr. Garber. Very bold.

Opening with “Sunshine In Your Heart”, we get re-introduced to the soulful, Americana groove that Garber captured on his first release. It’s a little blues-y, very upbeat, and packed with a positive message about cutting the crud from our lives. In classic (yes, classic . . . it’s his fingerprint on the music) Ted Garber fashion, the man crafts lyrics in a way that’s reminiscent of someone like Jim Croce. Clever and witty, never clichéd, and always thoughtful, the lyrics are the strength of the man’s songs. Add that soulful voice and artistic integrity, and listening to Garber croon, you’ll think you’ve known the man all of your life. It’s a real voice, not something mechanized, orchestrated, or produced . . . a voice with such gravity that you can’t help but be pulled closer to it, to understand where this soul actually comes from.  

“Plastic Bag” is the track that probably hits me the hardest on an emotional level. Introspective and powerful, Garber showcases that one doesn’t need a million notes and a million fancy words to convey a message. Stripped down and performed in a jazzier tone than most of his past material, “Plastic Bag” is the song I’ve been toting around of late as a constant reference that I gotta’ remember to check my own nasty baggage at the door if I want to live to my fullest, and I guess . . . you could say this review is a personal thanks to Ted Garber for arming me with yet another weapon on my war against self destruction. Yeah . . . it’s that strong of a tune. Don’t believe me? Buy the record.

For a good hour, Ted Garber entertains a sold out crowd with his fusion of soulful jazz meets blues-y troubadour songs, self described as BluesAmericanaRock. Who am I to disagree? “Achilles’ Heel”, “Sunshine In Fog”, and the heart-warming reinterpretation of “A Lot Like Me” (it’s deep . . . it’s in a fortune cookie) are prime examples of a singer/songwriter who has mastered that balance of tapping the vein of sensitivity without coming across as sappy and trite. Like Van Morrison or the aforementioned Jim Croce, Garber can write a hell of a love song and he sings these songs with a masculinity that gives them an immediacy and power that can’t be ignored. Plus, on this live edition, Garber’s between song banter is priceless and I found myself unapologetically laughing out loud.

“Third Time’s a Charm” features a duet with fellow Strathmore resident Chelsey Green and it’s one of those fun time, happy jazzy romantic songs that is so well crafted and performed that it’s an immediate attention getter. Garber and Green have a natural chemistry on this sultry groove, and the lyrics are so compelling that I find myself taking sides with both characters. Then the trumpet solo . . . sigh . . . it’s a thing of beauty, and by the songs final notes I want to jump to my feet and clap enthusiastically with those in attendance. And then . . . there’s “Don’t Want To Make A Baby, Baby”. Garber enlisted the aid of Philly rapper Jason Ager to pen this hip-hop tinged gem of a funky rocker. It’s an instant classic, filled with humorous and intelligent lyrics about getting down and doing the nasty. It would have been easy to write this one in a crass fashion, but hat’s off to Garber and Ager for injecting a level of class to the tune. Hell . . . the song is so funky that it makes me want to go out and practice my own technique!  

While the songs are naturally the focal point of this performance, Ted Garber’s easy going and fun natured charisma adds an element of familiarity to the recording. You may have just met him, but you’ll think you’ve known him your entire life, and by the end of the performance, you’ll simply love the guy. These tracks are an open door to the intricate weave that makes up the tapestry of the man . . . bright and colorful, full of life, rich in humor, and deep with wisdom. If you don’t find yourself laughing, (maybe even crying), clapping, and cheering along throughout this outstanding set of genre jumping music, then you’re simply dead inside. Live at Strathmore is a slice of true Americana that absolutely can’t be missed!

--Pope 

http://www.tedgarber.com/

http://www.strathmore.org/

Blue Öyster Cult - On Your Feet Or On Your Knees

A band’s best music is not necessarily their most commercially successful.  Few bands have proven that adage better than Blue Öyster Cult.

There’s a long history to this ear-splitting, thunderous, arena rock group.  They started off life trying to be the American answer to Black Sabbath and for me, growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, they were. The band first hit the scene in New York under the name Soft White Underbelly, found a modicum of success and an interested major record label. Unfortunately, in 1969 their lead singer left during the recording of their first album and the label shelved the project.  The band continued to perform live as Soft White Underbelly until it received a bad review of a 1969 concert at Fillmore East.  Instead of letting the band slog through the critical review in order to find redemption their manager decided they should just rename the band.  For two long years the band changed names nearly every six months.  Then, in 1971, the band settled on Blue Öyster Cult which was based on their manager’s poem about a group of aliens who had assembled to secretly guide Earth's history.  Under the new name the band landed a recording contract with Columbia Records.

The band toiled in relative obscurity, sometimes even playing small venues as Soft White Underbelly, through 1975.  They had released a self-titled album in 1972 containing some of the hardest rocking hard rock of the day, that found a small loyal following, and followed it up with a 1973 release entitled Tyranny and Mutation that contained the first of many of the band’s collaborations with Patti Smith. In 1974 they released a third album, Secret Treaties, that earned them faint praise.  However, it was their constant touring that lured in a fan base.  Blue Öyster Cult live shows became legendary.

In 1975, the band released On Your Feet or On Your Knees, a live album that went gold.  It captured the essence of their live shows.  Here were band members Eric Bloom, Donald “Buck Dharma” Roeser, Allen Lanier, and Joe and Albert Bouchard at their road-tested best  and earning their first taste of super stardom.   To this day I rank this effort as one of the best live albums ever produced.

The album cover sports an old ghostly stone gothic church in a murky fog fronted by a 1970’s black Cadillac stretch limousine. The back of the album has a photograph of hands in medieval gloves of an executioner holding a bible-like volume with the symbol of the band amongst the text.  The double album has two sleeves and the fold-out inside is festooned with a picture of an ornate gothic stage with a row of full stack Marshall amplifiers from stage right to stage left fronted by the band jumping into space playing electric guitars over the heads of their audiience.

The first disk starts with a live audience and a mysterious announcement to the gathered crowd - “On your feet or on your knees.  It is the amazing Blue Öyster Cult.” Then the band  immediately dives in to some of the hottest guitar rock leather band live performances of the decade.

The recording is comprised of three songs from each of the band’s first three studio albums and two cover songs. A dizzying array of guitar leads, pounding drums, electric bass and vocals permeate the rockers and ballads and leave the listener amped and asking for more.  "Subhuman," then "Harvester of Eyes," lead to “Hot Rails to Hell" followed by scorching versions of "The Red and the Black" and “Screaming Diz-Busters."  Then comes “Buck's Boogie," a veritable ear bleeding break the speed barrier bopper. A smooth arena rock ballad "(Then Came The) Last Days of May" slows the pace but only long enough for the band to reboot the sustain with “Cities on Flame," "ME 262," and the heart pounding "Before the Kiss (A Redcap)."  The album concludes with two cover songs - “I Ain’t Got You” (with modified lyrics) and the best version of “Born To Be Wild” you have ever heard.

Blue Öyster Cult’s greatest commercial success still was to come when On Your Feet Or On Your Knees was released.  Their biggest hit singles “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” and “Godzilla” did not chart until 1976 and 1977, respectively,and, to be honest, are watered down versions of the band’s music tuned to appeal to a wider audience.

Blue Öyster Cult is still around and occasionally records and tours under that name.  However, if you really want to experience the music like it was, when they produced cutting edge rock and roll and not AM hits for mass consumption, look for a small notice printed on the back of a local throwaway free press newspaper that says that Soft White Underbelly is playing at a small bar venue. Go.  You won’t be disappointed whether you have to watch on your feet or on your knees.

- Old School

Buy here: On Your Feet Or on Your Knees
buy here mp3: On Your Feet Or On Your Knees

Iggy & the Stooges "Raw Power Live: In the Hands of the Fans"

If it wasn’t for upper level corporate cost cuttings, this LP would not exist. After leaving the Stooges in 1974 and eventually music all together in the early 1980’s, guitarist James Williamson worked his way up the ladder to become Vice President of Technology Standards for Sony. A few months after the untimely passing of original Stooges guitarist Ron Asheton, James accepted an early retirement incentive allowing him to terrorize stages again with his frantic Les Paul maulings. As sad as it was to lose Ron, it’s great to have Straight James back with his old delinquent pals.

In September 2010, the reconstituted Stooges took the stage at the All Tomorrow's Parties Festival in upstate New York to deliver the blitzkrieg assault of Raw Power in its entirety. Luckily for us the event was recorded and is being released on vinyl just in time for Record Store Day in April. Back in 1973/74 when Raw Power was a new release (and quickly dumped into the cut out bins) they only ever played about half the songs live. So how do they sound these days? Pretty fuckin good, and even better when you turn the stereo up.

Every bootleg I’ve ever heard of the band from 73/74 has always opened with “Raw Power” and this show is no exception. James may be a retired exec and family man but he can still fire up that riff at maximum throttle. The band sounds killer. Scott Asheton pounds the beat furiously and Mike Watt handle’s Ron’s killer bass lines well. Iggy’s voice is still in pretty good shape for a dude in his 60’s and he can still deliver lines like “Raw Power is a guaranteed O.D.” with supreme gusto. The great Funhouse era saxophonist Steve Mackay blows his horn adding some cool textures that haven’t been heard on this song before. Crashing right into “Search & Destroy” the band rocks like hell and it’s obvious the crowd is loving it.

Things slow down for the moody rocker “Gimme Danger” and James lets loose with a great solo at the end. The tempo kicks way up for a double dose of speed with “Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell” and “Shake Appeal.” Steve adds some great tenor sax to these and makes them rock even harder. James busts out a slide for the great slow blues “I Need Somebody.” But that’s just the calm before the storm.

Insane jams like “Penetration” and “Death Trip” were never performed live back in the 1970’s and it’s great to hear them get aired out. Both of these feature killer guitar work from James. The album wraps up with a frenzied take on “I Got A Right.” That song had an interesting history. Performed live by the 1971 line up when both James and Ron were playing guitar, later recorded in 1972 with James on guitar and Ron on bass but dumped from the live set and then remained unreleased until years later.

I’ve often wondered what would have happened if Raw Power had been recorded under more “normal” circumstances. The album would have greatly benefited if they were recorded like the first Montrose record or Mountain’s Climbing. The Stooges were a heavy band but the production of Raw Power obviously confused most rock fans of the time. Even though they basically invented punk rock, the Stooges were always at heart a kick ass hard rock band. Hearing them blast these songs loud n proud in front of a frenzied crowd confirms that. 


--Woody

Buy here vinylRaw Power: Live:

Alice Cooper - Theater of Death Tour 2009 CD/DVD

Now, please allow me to manage your expectations. I am a huge fan of Alice Cooper…there I said it. I’m not one of these fly by night types who got into Poison when it came out in the 80’s nor am I one of the sniffy purists who only claim allegiance to the original band between 1970 and 1974 (though obviously this has to be the best era…any fool knows that!!!). No, I am a fan, I won’t turn my nose up at the challenging first two albums when he was in bed with Frank Zappa. I can forgive him Lace and Whiskey because of the good songs and even his early 80’s era, which he forgot before it had even ended, has its moments of quality. So with all this in mind any hope of this being an impartial and objective review are pretty much zero. This was always going to be a good review but whether it would be a great review…well, that would remain to be seen….

When I heard that Alice would be playing a show local to me on his 2009 “Theatre of Death” tour I almost literally busted a nut to get tickets. Impoverished, I begged and borrowed to be able to get two tickets for myself and my wife (one of the fly by night Poison-era fans!!!). On the night Alice delivered backed up by an incredible band…obviously not the classic Buxton, Bruce, Dunaway and Smith line-up, but a stripped down 2 guitar line-up that played the catalogue with skill, fire, passion and due reverence. It’s one thing though standing amongst 2000 other fans watching the spectacle unfold in front of you and it’s quite something else listening to it on a CD in the comfort of your room or watching it compressed to a TV screen on DVD. But this is a good review right? So you already know that I dig the living shit out of this release!!!

Given the benefit of a crystal clear, low end powered, punch in the nuts sound Alice’s live albums have never sounded so good. Chuck Garric’s bass tones threaten to pull your guts out of your ass (maybe a future stage prop?), while the duelling guitars of Keri Kelli and Damon Johnson are the closest Alice has come in years to nailing the Michael Bruce/Glenn Buxton partnership of the original band or even the mid 70’s pairing of Dick Wagner and Steve Hunter. Both players play as if they were born to be in Alice’s band. Former Y&T and Megadeth man Jimmy Degrasso is obviously reveling in his role playing out the hits and the more obscure tunes with millisecond perfect precision. And what of Alice? What of the main man himself? In his 60’s and 40 plus years into his career we could forgive him for sounding a little jaded right? We could forgive him if his voice wasn’t what it used to be, if he strained to hit the higher notes after rasping his vocals chords for more years than most of us have been eating solid food…not to mention blasting them for many years with alcohol? No fucking way!!! Alice is a pro and delivers with the guts and determination of a man a third his age and far from being shot his voice is as strong as ever. In fact the guy must have vocal chords like leather as his voice is tougher, stronger and meaner now than ever before.

What of the material I hear you ask? Is this an attempt to sell the latest album of the time (2008’s magnificent Along Came A Spider) or is this a cash in greatest hits package? Neither, this is Alice delivering the best show he can from a catalogue that that most of his contemporaries would even shudder to compete with. The choice of material stretches as far back as Love It To Death with all the classics you would expect, only Muscle of Love from this era is ignored but as the track list flies buy you’d be hard pushed to notice. Welcome To My Nightmare is featured heavily with no less than seven songs (perhaps setting the tone for his next project, a sequel to that classic album). Even Goes To Hell and From The Inside are represented with classics like the former’s title track and “Nurse Rozetta” from the latter. Most of the 80’s are sensibly ignored though Poison does get the back combed, scantily clad metal chicks frothing at the mouth. Even Alice’s more recent output is given some welcome airing with “Wicked Young Man” from Brutal Planet and the title track from the Dirty Diamonds album. Whatever era is represented here, none of it sounds out of place which is remarkable considering the number of musical u-turns Alice has taken in his career. The band holds it all together with faithful arrangements that give the set a sense of continuity and cohesion.

The added bonus here is that, not only do you get to hear Alice do what he does best in a live environment, flip the DVD on and you can watch it all in glorious, glorious technicolour as it all went down on that fateful night in old London Town. Capturing the live Alice Cooper experience on film is never going to be easy but the direction is sharp yet retains that in-the-audience vibe that some live footage can miss. To see Alice putting everything into his performance at an age when most people are contemplating holidays by the sea and cocoa before bed is inspirational, particularly as he endures being killed onstage not once, not twice but four times by guillotine, lethal injection, hanging and in the Iron Maiden. Here, as well, Alice’s band prove themselves to be no mere side men. Each member works the stage and the crowd as if this was their own life’s work they were presenting. Garric even gets to take the role of front man during “I Love The Dead” while Alice is resurrected from one of his many deaths.

There must come a time when Alice Cooper has to consider how long he can keep doing things to this level but when he does decide to retire to his armchair to pull the legs off spiders this CD/DVD package will remain for the faithful to fill the void. The fact that I received this on Christmas Eve 2010 and it immediately hit the higher reaches of my top 10 for a year full of highlights should give some indication as to how essential a purchase this is. Buy it…unless you’re a pussy scaredy cat!!!


--Ollie

Buy here: Alice Cooper - Theatre Of Death-Live At Hammersmith 2009 (DVD W/Bonus CD)
Buy here: Alice Cooper - Theatre Of Death-Live At Hammersmith 2009 (Blu-ray W/Bonus CD)
Buy here: Theatre Of Death-Live At Hammersmith 2009 (CD/DVD)

Opeth - In Live Concert at The Royal Albert Hall

No matter how hard I try, how many fancy words I string together, to try and describe Opeth’s In Live Concert at The Royal Albert Hall, I fear I simply won’t do this package it’s due justice. To aptly describe this majestic release, I would have to channel the essence of James Michener, who’s thousand page epics have a tendency to sprawl across hundreds, nay . . . thousands of years of a subjects existence, depicting the great land movements, the tectonic shifts and violent volcanic episodes that formed the environment that the subject may call home. I would then have to detail out every last bit of emotion and nuance from the main character(s), so rich in detail that you would feel that you’ve just spent the last century walking in their shoes. Then, I’d weave such an intricate tapestry of words that you would swear that you could taste the dust of a country road on your tongue, feel the bitter cold of a Chesapeake winter, or smell the floral scents of perfume on a maidens breast . . . or, in the case of Opeth, the stinging taste of battery acid on your tongue, the sweltering heat of an enclosed venue, or the ripening smell of the bodies struggling within said venue.

I can use all of those nifty adjectives that we writers like to use so much. Awesome. Amazing. Fantastic. Astonishing. Yeah, they all work because they do express some amount of excitement about that which they are describing. But in the case of In Live Concert at The Royal Albert Hall, they’re simply not adequate enough descriptors. A four disc vinyl set with two DVD’s will never adequately be described by one word, especially a set as painstakingly detailed as this particular issue. This set deserves . . . no, requires a tome of words to form a shadow of what is actually going on. The set will require another volume to add color.

For Opeth’s twentieth anniversary, Mikael Akerfeldt and company decided to do a short tour, hitting a few venues that harbor an image of class and respect, and then release the subsequent recordings in a package that would be represent the band and cater to the record collecting masses (of those of us who are still out here.) The two album set is all recorded live and spans the full career of Opeth, paying homage to many of the members of the band who have since moved on, and spotlighting with special attention their breakout album, Blackwater Park, by performing it in its entirety. The packaging on this set draws me back to those glorious days of the 1970’s, an era when rock n’ roll, progressive music, whatever, paid close attention to the visual marketing of the album art, the imagery, the overall sensation of buying a record and vegging for hours with the music as the soundtrack to the visual stimuli that the artist had created . . . a phenomenon that was inhibited by the CD revolution and completely lost in the digital age. This particular box set includes a concert poster and a twenty page book with “Awesome. Amazing. Fantastic. Astonishing” photos from the concert at The Royal Albert Hall . . . all serious eye candy to lose oneself while the vinyl does its glorious dance on the turntable.

However, the imagery really means nothing if the musical quality isn’t there. Let’s face it. We all have those great pieces of vinyl where the album art is infinitely superior than the musical quality . . . Meatloaf, I’m looking at you. In the case of In Live Concert at The Royal Albert Hall, the musical quality is sharp, loud, and clearer than just about any live recording I’ve heard, and the performances are a testament to the physical and mental abilities of these five musicians. I’ve said it before, with the advent of Pro Tools and all of the various technical studio tricks, recording ten minute epics that shift moods, musical styles, tempos, and time signatures is cool, but it’s almost too easy. Maybe I’ve become jaded. But to pull off that feat live, without a net, as they say . . . that, my friends, is what being a musician is all about! To put this latest live adventure into perspective, imagine that Opeth is playing all of Blackwater Park, which they do, without fucking up the parts and transitions (coz’ you should know that there are plenty of those lying around) and then follow it up with an additional eight songs that touch on every variation of the bands creativity, every stylistic change, every musical nuance from the last twenty years. Breath taking.

I could go through every song and wax poetic about their deeper meaning to my every heartbeat, but that got old the second I thought about it. Instead, you really need to listen for yourselves. In particular, “Bleak,” “Blackwater Park,” “Advent,” “The Moor,” “Harlequin Forest,” and set closer “The Lotus Eater” jump to mind as the moments that I felt the greatest shiver of someone walking on my grave, of staring into the mesmerizing gaze of a thousand succubi, or breathing in the noxious and intoxicating fumes of Hades. I can’t help but marvel at the performances of these musicians, the rich textures that they apply with their respective instruments, and the overall exhilarating physical sensation that I get when I hear the sounds and tones spew from my speakers and bathe me in their brilliance.

After basking in the sonic splendor of the aforementioned four discs, I made my way to the Ripple Theater and dropped in the DVD’s. “Awesome. Amazing. Fantastic. Astonishing.” I honestly don’t think I breathed for something like four hours. Mouth agape, I stared . . . completely transfixed on the visual performance of this concert. The band must have used something like 3,000 cameras (a slight exaggeration) for this production. We had the standard center stage angle, left stage angle, right stage angle . . . got a little creative with the behind the band, over-the-shoulder angle, some nice crowd angles and then a few nice shots of the drummers foot (always a fan of the drummers foot work) . . . and then there were the camera angles where I swear I could count the musicians’ nose hair. The visuals were cool, nothing interstellar like a band mascot running out on stage and catching fire (as cool as that always is), just clean and concise images that help separate Opeth from any other band on the face of the planet. I found the stage presence of the various band members intriguing. Martin Mendez with his hair whipping from side to side, Fredrik Akesson dropping into the classic metal headbanging pose, the relaxed, almost bored look of drummer Martin Axenrot, and maniacal glare and eccentric demeanor of keyboardist Per Wiberg . . . and, of course, the stalwart center figure of Mikael Akerfeldt . . . they all just had that look!  

When watching this, note the guitar issues that the band has during particular songs. With a simple wave of his hand, Mikael Akerfeldt signaled to his guitar tech, and without panic, without stepping away from the mic, continues belting out his trademark death growl with the same sincerity as we’ve grown to become accustomed . . . guitar tech switches out guitars in mid vocal line and BAM! He disappears and the show goes on. I give a nod of respect to the professionalism that Akerfeldt shows here because I’ve seen the opposite from bands in the past, people become flustered, they freeze or start throwing tantrums, ultimately making the show suffer. Not here, not with Opeth. The best part though is in the second set closer, “The Lotus Eater,” as guitarist Fredrik Akesson has his own set of technical issues with his gear. In listening to the LP version, it simply sounds like the band has an extended quiet passage going on in the song, kind of like they’re playing with the crowd a bit . . . as if this was a planned break. Seeing what actually happened fills in the gaps from the pure audio portion, but I think it’s interesting how the mind goes places based on the information it’s given.

Yeah, I spent more money than I could really afford on this production, but food is overrated anyway. Hey! It’s not like anyone’s ever really starved to death, right? In truth, based on how much I want to listen to this album, and spend four-plus hours glued to my television watching this performance, how excited I get when I start talking about this album to people, how many words I just wrote as tribute on this release, hell . . . I’d spend the money all over again. If you’re an Opeth fan and you’re on the fence about this album for any reason, then I would hope that these words have acted a gentle nudge to knock you off the fence. If you’re new to Opeth and are looking for a jumping off point to get into this band, this is the place to do it. You get Blackwater Park in its entirety and select choices from every album before and since, with performances that capture the band at the height of its creative brilliance. If you don’t like Opeth and have no interest in the band whatsoever, I thank you for reading this far though I’m confused why you would have spent your time doing so.  -  Pope    

FYI – this release does come in numerous formats, so don’t feel that because I wrote about the vinyl edition that you have no other choices. Rock on! 

--Pope

buy here: Opeth - In Live Concert At The Royal Albert Hall (2DVD/3CD)
buy here: DVD Opeth - In Live Concert At The Royal Albert Hall (2DVD)
buy here: mp3: In Live Concert At The Royal Albert Hall

www.opeth.com

Neurosis - Live at Roadburn 2007

I recently got a double burst of Neurosis dropped in my lap, a sensation not all that different than having a bowling dropped on your junk. But unlike the bowling ball incident, the Neurosis treatment was something that I enjoyed and wish would happen more often. Neurosis is a band that folks either love or just don’t get. I, for one, love them to death and quite frankly can’t be certain if I get them in the least. There’s just something about the primordial droning and hypnotic waves of distortion, the assault of sonic destruction that draws me to these guys like a woman to a shoe sale. The two albums that made their way into my possession and subsequent consciousness are the re-issue of the classic Enemy of the Sun (brilliant album in its original state, even better with the added tracks) and the more recent Live at Roadburn 2007. There’s nothing new that I could write about Enemy of the Sun, so I’ll just leave it as it’s a must have, therefore stop reading this and go get it before reading on. Live at Roadburn 2007, however, is new for me and something that I can’t stop listening to.

I figure that I have a few screws loose, I didn’t get the proper nurturing as a child, or I just don’t get enough sleep to make the extreme noise parade that Neurosis produces something I look forward to. It’s not the kind of music that I typically gravitate towards in that the music doesn’t have the ballsy guitar riffs or mighty mosh parts or variation of mood that makes me punch drunk. But, that’s not to say that this music is any less dynamic. In fact, the music that Neurosis creates is arguably more dynamic than the better half of modern music it’s just that these guys just do it with volume and tone. Filled with imposing phrases and dark words, the detuned, heavy music creates an element of dread and sorrow, hopelessness for the future on mankind, yet . . . I find it completely fascinating! Like when we’re driving and catch a glimpse of roadkill . . . no, we don’t think it’s beautiful, but we all take a long glance at the deceased if not for fascination then for the hope that we can distinguish the breed of critter. That sensation is about the closest analogy I can come up with for Neurosis.

Okay, on with the album. “A Season In The Sky” is a majestic, near ten minute epic of dread and despair. The bass line that creeps out of the fog sets the tone for this song right off the bat and one can easily get the sense that something ominous is upon us. As the vocals enter, the chills run up the spine and the mind races through the wild imagery that’s being strewn across our minds’ eye. This is one of those cases where a band doesn’t need to utilize thrashing drums and cutting guitars to be heavy. The subject matter, the performance, the vocal tones, the bass tones . . . all of it is done with such intensity that the heaviness is more of a matter of fact than studio trickery. It’s well over four minutes before the rest of the band chimes in to make their presence known, but when they do, they don’t pummel us into submission as one might expect, but rather compliment the tones that have already been set. In time, the detuned guitars take center stage and the overbearing weight of the Neurosis that we’ve come to misunderstand and love shine on.

“At the End of the Road” follows next and clocks in at about eight and a half minutes. This track opens with a pulsating drone and steady tom attack from the drummer, creating yet again, a sense of dread and impending doom. This is the Neurosis that I seem to like the best . . . a band that channels their primitive ancestors, communicating in a primordial sense, generating a dark tribal vibe. This intro always makes me feel like it should have been part of the Apocalypse Now soundtrack. I hear this song and I’m transported to the jungles of Vietnam . . . or Cambodia . . . or Laos, you pick, and I’m creeping through the dense foliage with only survival on my mind. Rain pours down periodically while shadows shift along my peripheral vision, always make me turn my head to catch a cleaner view of what’s out there and only finding more jungle . . . always knowing that I’m being watched . . . being hunted. Right around the 5:30 mark, the song opens up, finds a groove and we get that pummeling sensation that Neurosis mastered long, long ago. The bass notes come from various places on the neck of the instrument, the guitars carry the weight of ages, the drums like a heartbeat in a darkened room . . . deafening.

“Distill” is another gem on this album. There’s more groove to this song than most of the others during this particular performance. I love the chaotic burst that explodes as the vocals enter the mix. One guitar is creating a sustained droning tone while the second guitar emits flurries of distorted notes. Masterful! And then the whole thing collapses into ambiance. The guitars suddenly go clean and subtle arpeggios are plucked from the instruments . . . and then BOOM! Chaos ensues once again! When listening to Neurosis this is to be expected. You may want to hear the band go into a long, extended riff frenzy, but know that they’re not gonna’. Their always going to take their music in a direction that is so left of center that it almost feels like they have no direction. But that’s when we as listeners need to stop and rethink how we perceive music. The ambient portions of this song are flat out scary, the rocking portions are devastatingly heavy.

“Water Is Not Enough” is a classic. I’ve heard this song in my sleep for a million years, making me think that I’m must be related to this alien race of musicians in some way, shape or form. Brutally heavy and everything one would expect in association when the name Neurosis is mentioned. One of the band’s shorter tracks at almost six and a half minutes, “Water Is Not Enough” is darn near accessible. The riffs are condensed, but the textures that they create shift the brain fluid from one side of the head to the other, creating a dizzying effect. Slow and steady, hard and heavy, music Neurosis-style . . .

Most people won’t have the patience for a band like Neurosis because the music takes time to get the end of the tale. It’s almost like reading one of Stephen King’s 1,000 word epics, or any James Mischner novel, the story takes time to develop, always building upon itself, incorporating various levels of nuance, until we get to the very end and sit back breathless, thinking to ourselves, “Holy shit.” Live at Roadburn 2007 is a fabulous recording partially due to the bands ability to perform music from their catalog and still create the dynamic mood and tones almost effortlessly. I also like that the crowd noise is at a minimum on this recording. I don’t mind crowd noise on live efforts, especially when we get to hear them chant along with the songs a la Iron Maiden or Rush, but in the case of Neurosis, I like that the focus is purely on the band and their ability to pull off the performance in a live setting versus the relative safety of the studio. Live at Roadburn 2007 is a good starting point for anyone interested in learning more about the band and hearing what they’re all about. Beyond that, Enemy of the Sun is a can’t miss.  -  Pope

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Otis Redding - Live on the Sunset Strip

It’s hard to believe that Otis Redding was only 24 years old when these live shows were recorded in Hollywood, California back in April 1966. Even though he was still a young man, he was an old pro by the time he hit the stage of the famous Whiskey A Go Go having experienced many hit singles and successful albums on the legendary Stax-Volt label. Otis usually recorded with Booker T & The MG’s but rarely toured the United States with them since they were so busy with studio work in Memphis.

There are plenty of live documents of the 1967 European tour and landmark performance at the Monterey festival, but this 2CD set lets you hear exactly what Otis did to audiences night after night with his road band. Most of these have been available in edited form, first on 1968’s LP In Person at the Whisky a Go Go and then more selections were released in 1993 as Good to Me: Live at the Whisky a Go Go, Vol. 2. Even if you already have those, you need to pick this up. You get 3 complete sets of Otis and his tighter than hell road band rocking the stage of a small club. Taj Mahal’s old band Rising Sons (also featuring Ry Cooder) were the opening act for these shows. In the liner notes he’s quoted as “His was one of the most amazing performances I’d ever seen and I’ve seen some great performances. I’m talking about being in the same room, not watching a film or being at some big festival. This cat just had the rafters falling down.” You gonna argue with that

It’s all here. Every grunt, whoop and holler from the Otis and from the crowd, too. When they do fast ones like “I Can’t Turn You Loose,” “I’m Depending On You” or his version of the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” you can feel the everyone rocking. Otis liked to do his uptempo ones twice as fast at the record, but he also liked to do ballads twice as slow. “These Arms Of Mine” is even more powerful than the original and “Chained and Bound” gets the full dramatic treatment with some heartfelt testifying in the middle. His hit “Respect” is given a high energy workout. It’s interesting to compare it to the live version from Monterey a year later when he mentions that “some girl” just stole his song, meaning Aretha Franklin’s hit version. Two of the sets come from the last night of his 4 night run at the club. Otis mentions that now that they’ve been paid they can “goof off.” His idea of goofing off includes an incredible 10 minute version of James Brown’s “Papas Got A Brand New Bag” that gives JB a run for his money.

Since it was the norm for artists to do 2 shows a night, several songs are duplicated but when it comes to The Big O can you really have too much? Otis gave us so much incredible music in his way too short life and this is guaranteed to make you feel good no matter how bad your day is going. Play this one loud.

--Woody

buy here: Live on the Sunset Strip