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C PageContents: John Cale, Caravan, Neko Case, Eva Cassidy, Tracy Chapman, Chicago, Eric Clapton, The Clash, Clowndog, Coldplay, Creed, Marshall Crenshaw, Crosby, Stills and Nash, Sheryl Crow, Crowded House, CynosureJohn Cale has his own pageCaravanBack To Front(1982)Other seventies progressive rock bands, such as King Crimson, Genesis and Yes, managed to adapt well to the eighties, and released at least one worthwhile album in this era. On the other hand Caravan, part of the celebrated Canterbury scene and responsible for some supposedly good albums such as For Girls Who Grow Plump In The Night and In The Land of Grey and Pink, did nothing of the sort. This is one of the most painfully generic albums I've ever heard, and it's difficult to pinpoint whether the unimaginative music, the "Hi, we're old and boring people" lyrics or the lifelessness of the whole package is the worst offender. Actually, I'm pretty sure that it's the lyrics; while it's possible to make a great album without saying anything profound, these are some of the least interesting thoughts committed to record. The subject matter can be loosely divided into two categories; when they're not writing songs that slip into adult contemporary cliche ('Sally Don't Change It', 'Taken My Breath Away'), they're admitting how boring they actually are. It's a surprise when a song about their difficult route to fame and fortune is eclipsed by even an more mundane song about how greasy the fish and chips are at the shop nearest the recording studio. Even worse are the utterly inane 'AA Man', about the kind man who fixed the bass player's car, or the song about the keyboardist's experiences at the local video store. Of course, where there are uninspired lyrics, there's usually mediocre music in tow. There's some signs these guys are good musicians - the drummer does a decent job throughout, and there's the odd memorable solo - but everything on the album is so uninteresting. Most of the songs are dominated by a stodgy electric piano, and everything is at a slow pace with little dynamism. The whole album plods, and when the guitarist takes matters into his own hands and cuts loose with a solo in the final song, it's arguably the high point of an extremely disappointing album. I think Back To Front might even be the worst album I've ever bought on CD, although there are just enough musical ideas to earn it half a star, and I'm not sure that I can even be bothered giving Caravan another chance based on this. 
Neko CaseFox Confessor Brings The Flood(2006)Aside from her moonlighting with Indie popsters The New Pornographers, I'm completely unfamiliar with Neko Case's previous work. Starting her career as a garage punk rocker, she's changed direction dramatically, to the point where she's now a poised auteur of alt-country, collaborating with Howe Gelb and Garth Hudson and delivering visions of a mythic Americana, 19th century yet hanging on the edge of apocalypse. Fox Confessor Brings The Flood may be short on big hooks or memorable melodies, but it's often intoxicating just the same, with a captivating atmosphere cast by Case's breathtaking vocals, mystical lyrics and compelling textures. Case's voice is thick and warm, yet effortlessly agile; easily capable of taking the Carey/Dion diva route to fame and wealth, she's instead following decidedly her own path, making challenging and artistically vibrant records. Mystical country art-rock might seem incongruous but it works fine; country's natural earthiness deflates any pretentiousness that might otherwise mar the record. With its 12 songs clocking in at a mere 35 minutes, Fox Confessor Brings The Flood is a dense listen; what initially can seem quite flat eventually reveals itself to be warm and full of spiritual power. If anything's going to be a potential radio hit on this mostly cryptic album, I'd choose the concise 'Hold On, Hold On', which is about as close to a normal verse/chorus song here. Other more immediate numbers include 'Star Witness', which puts Case's voice through a delightful melody, and 'The Needle Has Landed'. The standout song, though, is the title track- a song where knowing its meaning would detract from its other worldly mystique. Other places the album hits the hardest is when Case pushes her voice to the forefront - both 'John Saw That Number' and 'A Widow's Toast' open with breath taking a capella sections. Case has a stronger album in her somewhere - I know that catchy songs aren't exactly the point of Fox Confessor, but it still comes alive most with the hookier material - and it's a shame there aren't more truly memorable individual moments. As a cohesive whole Fox Confessor works just fine; it's a thought provoking and effortlessly poised record, even though it's maybe slightly more fascinating than it is musically satisfying in places.
Eva Cassidy has her own pageTracy Chapman has her own pageChicago25 Years Of Gold(1995)Whoever compiled this Australasian-only collection should be applauded for their audacity. A Chicago collection that omits famous ballads like 'You're The Inspiration' and 'Look Away' in favour of obscure early cuts like 'I'm A Man' may be commercially unwise, but it makes for far better listening. The accompanying liner notes emphasise Chicago's early days, ending the story soon after guitarist Terry Kath's accidental Russian Roulette death. The notes also squeeze as much credibility from the Chicago story as possible; founder Walter Paradaizer recalls that "[Jimi Hendrix] tapped me on the shoulder and he says 'Your horn players are like one set of lungs and your guitar player is better than me. I've just gotta take you out. If you'd like to be my opening act, I'd love it, and I'd love to use your horns on a record." Even if you strip away Chicago's most sugary hits and emphasise their attributes, however, they're still pretty close to a guilty pleasure. Even in their arty early phase, while they tossed in the occasional noisier effort like '25 Or 6 To 4', Chicago were generally playing complex pop music. Later in their career their material became blatantly commercial, and less interesting. Throughout their career, their lyrics were largely romance oriented; '25 Or 6 To 4' is about writing a song while 'Saturday In The Park' paints a scene, but these are the exceptions rather than the rule. Considering that this compilation was drawn from more than twenty studio albums (almost all self-titled) by a mega-selling group, there are a surprisingly large number of relatively anonymous tracks; 'Colour My World', 'Just You 'n' Me', Another Rainy Day In New York City', and 'Long Gone Long' all leave little impression. Most of the other songs, however, are really memorable; 'Saturday In The Park' is perhaps Chicago's greatest single contribution to posterity, while seventies hits like the peppy 'Baby What A Big Surprise' and the plaintive 'I've Been Searching So Long' are a little less credible but still enjoyable. The non-chronological track order enhances the experience, reeling from era to era so that their ubiquitous eighties ballads (wisely limited to 'Hard To Say I'm Sorry' and 'Hard Habit To Break') sound far less offensive nestled against early material like 'Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?'. The septet are also uniformly excellent musicians: Kath gets some nice acoustic soloing into 'If You Leave Me Now', drummer Danny Seraphine shines on 'No Tell Lover', while the horn section lines always add value to each arrangement. Predictably, 25 Years of Gold is now out of print, replaced by The Heart Of Chicago which looks only about half as good, omitting classics like '25 Or 6 To 4' and 'Baby What A Big Surprise' in favour of lots of David Foster produced ballads that all sound exactly the same. If you have an interest in Chicago, and can't get hold of a decent compilation like this or feel like buying a studio album, Steve Knowlton (of Steve and Abe's Record Reviews) recommends the group's early albums, particularly Chicago V.
Eric ClaptonTimepieces - The Best of Eric Clapton(1982)In the 1960s Eric Clapton quit The Yardbirds, because he felt that they had strayed too far from their blues origins and too close to the mainstream with their hit 'For Your Love'. Therefore the music that Clapton made in the 1970s, as collated on Timepieces, allows only two possible explanations. Either Clapton is the biggest hypocrite in musicdom or he had a substantial drug habit that he needed to finance. When I made my list of ten worst pop music stinkers, my worst oversight was to leave off 'Wonderful Tonight'. If that song doesn't embody heinous adult contemporary themes and musicality, I don't know what does. At least Clapton wrote 'Wonderful Tonight'; elsewhere he rarely puts pen to paper, covering Marley, Dylan and J.J. Cale (twice). There's a justification in performing covers if you possess a stunning voice like Emmylou Harris or Eva Cassidy, but if you're a skinny white boy with limited vocal capability it's advisable to shut up and play your guitar. Clapton does exhibit a fair degree of skill on his instrument, and his backing musicians are more than capable, but negates this with a predication for female backing singers and unconvincing reggae ('Knockin' on Heaven's Door'). The key redeeming feature of Timepieces is the magnum opus 'Layla', Clapton's anguished plea of love to George Harrison's wife. The raw power and emotion are stunning, while the extended piano led coda is enough to bring tears to my eyes. It seems clear that if you want to own 'Layla' a far better plan is to purchase Derek and the Domino's acclaimed double album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. 'Layla' also pops up on Clapton's Unplugged album, but if you're the sort of person who thinks the unplugged version is better than the original you'll probably love Timepieces anyway. There are a few other passable songs towards the end of Timepieces ('Promises', 'Let it Grow'), but the only reason anyone in their right mind would want to own it would be if they were helping someone prepare for a garage sale and were given a pile of LPs as payment.
(pretty much of all these stars are for 'Layla')
Unplugged(1992)I try to ignore genre biases whenever I can, but the fact of the matter is that acoustic blues and adult contemporary are two areas of popular music that I've never chosen to explore. Combine the two under the stewardship of Eric Clapton, who is about as uncharismatic as rock legends come, and the result is something that I rarely choose to listen to. That's not to say that this set is without merit, or that it couldn't have been a whole lot worse. Clapton thankfully steers clear of his seventies AOR hits, and sticks to mostly traditional blues songs. More regrettably, he also avoids his early career; the big exception is a reworking of 'Layla', which completely lacks the power of the original and drops the awesome coda from the end. The good news is a nice restrained performance from his band, with some nice dual acoustic guitars and classy bluesy keyboard noodling. Of course, the famous song from this album is 'Tears in Heaven', a tribute to Clapton's infant son who fell from his apartment. Despite it's overplay and inherent sappiness it's not quite as terrible as its reputation warrants, even if it does reinforce the album's adult contemporary flavour. The other song that's obviously not written by a dead black guy from the Southern Delta is 'Running on Faith', which does have a touching gospel feel to it. Elsewhere the record works when there's a sense of fun; 'Alberta' is a light-hearted Huddie Ledbetter piece filled with rollicking piano, while 'San Francisco Bay Blues' pulls out a showstopping kazoo solo. And 'Old Love' is the album's centrepiece, with an epic feel. Most of these highlights are clustered in the second half of the album, and it's unfortunately a test of endurance getting to them through boring blues songs like 'Hey Hey' and the watered down version of 'Layla'. This album isn't without its good qualities, but I just don't find Clapton interesting or charismatic enough to sit through the whole thing. Massively popular, this album sparked a wave of Unplugged albums among Clapton's generation, and from what I can gather this is one of the better ones.
The Clash have their own pageClowndogThe Cantankerous Mainstream(2001)Created by a now defunct Christchurch (New Zealand) punk trio, this 7 track EP is practically a cult sensation waiting to happen; in a parallel universe it's not beyond the realms of possibility to find millions of devoted fans wearing Clowndog's Coca Cola derived red t-shirts in homage to the combined work of band members Spanky, Sherbert and Idiot Pants. This band is created to be a cult act; while they'd be filed under pop-punk, they're way too intelligent and eclectic to be pigeonholed in the same category as Blink-182 or Good Charlotte, while their arrangements are dynamic and fuelled by a surprising degree of virtuosity. The Cantankerous Mainstream, their second EP, is full of surprising touches, from the surprisingly dynamic opening to 'Mates With Marxist' to the peppy hidden gospel singalong track tacked onto the end of the record. I'm not sure that I would argue that any of these individual songs are outstanding, but nevertheless this is an entertaining record, stretching the pop-punk genre to its limits and displaying plenty of charisma in the process. If you're reading this overseas, your chances of tracking this EP down are practically nil, but just bear in mind that Clowndog are one of the more eccentric members of the extensive infinite list of bands that deserved more attention.
Coldplay have their own pageCreedMy Sacrifice(Music Video, 2001). Contributed by Jon of Lower Hutt.its here. i just saw it on juice. the new creed video "my sacrifice". -holy moly it is sooooooooooooooo good. they all playing in water, waist high, slugging it out hard, the guitarist as usual, looking toward the sky strumming hard, this time in water. the drummer, going hard waking those drums, this time in a whole lot of water. then the singer, on a boat, cruising round, looking deep, sad, meaningful, in a crouching position, pleading with the viewers to open their hearts to his beautiful lyrics about progressing into manhood, and finding your true self, what is this life for after all, i dont know man, but i will charge into it, with arms wide open, and i just hope you can take me higher. deep, thats all i can say, i cried. Marshall Crenshaw has his own pageCrosby, Stills and Nash have their own pageSheryl Crow has her own pageCrowded House have their own pageCynosure have their own page |
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Written 2001-2007, Graham Fyfe
