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Fifty Year Friday: September 2026

Welcome back to Fifty Year Friday! It is my great pleasure to announce that once again our first entry is by the esteemed and respected Leo The Deacon. I have added a couple of my own entries afterwards, but if you have limited time, please focus the Small Change reflections. I think it is the most brilliant Fifty Year Friday entry yet. Enjoy!


Tom Waits: Small Change

Has it been a year already? It’s getting so that tempus doesn’t just fugit, it kicks on the afterburners. You mind your own business, take each day as it comes, and the next thing you know, the Curator of this sublimely ridiculous blog is emailing you:  “Leo, you gnarly old fossil! Have you finished the Waits review?” I am tempted to respond by ripping off Waits himself—“the computer has been drinking, not me…” Still, I won’t yield to temptation—at least not that temptation—because we have reached the fifty-year anniversary of the release of Waits’ 1976 masterpiece, Small Change. (And because the Curator is very patient with his enfant terrible collaborator.)  Waits’ previous album, Nighthawks at the Diner, is my sentimental favorite, and the one that most thoroughly reveals the performative persona that Waits inhabited as a singer-songwriter in the 1970s. But with Small Change, Waits hits his artistic stride. The broad consensus of critics and Waits fans alike is that Small Change is his best album of the 1970s. I may like Nighthawks, with all its imperfections, the way one likes his girlfriend’s freckles or swoons over Eva Mendes’ “beauty spot,” but I can’t play the contrarian on this question: Small Change indeed shows off Waits’ artistry better than any other of his albums from that decade.

Unlike Nighthawks, Small Change jettisons the conceit of presenting a “live” performance, with the full  Waits shtick, in favor of a more conventional anthology of discrete songs. Moreover, on Nighthawks, even when singing about lost loves or drunken weekends,  Waits may be bittersweet, but never really tragic. Small Change is a darker set of songs. To be sure, the humor is still there, often deployed in the service of satire,  and his tendency toward the melancholic and sentimental shapes a number of pieces. But several songs—most notably the title track “Small Change,” but also “Bad Liver and a Broken Heart,” and “Tom Traubert’s Blues”—are darker than anything on his three previous records. The humor has an edge as well: more than just a laugh, it conveys some sharp observations on American commercialism, seedy burlesque joints, and alcoholism. By the mid-seventies, Waits had become a heavy drinker. In part, this was due to the lifestyle of a touring musician, and in part because, to gain inspiration, he actually would immerse himself in the demimonde of tawdry motels, sleazy strip joints, and down-and-outer lounges. Looking back at that time, the now-teetotal Waits told a biographer, “You know, I was really starting to believe that there was something amusing and wonderfully American about a drunk. I ended up telling myself to cut that shit out.”  The darker side of the shabby lush life was beginning to color his lyrics even then.

Almost all of the songs on Small Change are jazz-inflected, but there is a greater variety to the music than on Nighthawks. We might group the songs on this album into three bins:  several songs feature just Waits on piano or on piano accompanied by just one other instrument—a bass, drums, or a saxophone (“Jitterbug Boy,” “The Piano Has Been Drinking,” Bad Liver and a Broken Heart,” “Pasties and a G-String,” “Small Change,” and “I Can’t Wait to Get Off Work”). Two songs, “Step Right Up” and “The One That Got Away,” feature a full jazz quartet of piano, bass, drums, and saxophone. Waits plays the piano, but as on Nighthawks, he has gathered some solid jazz musicians to back him up: Shelley Manne on drums, Jim Hughart returns on bass, and Lew Tabackin wields the sax. In the third and final bin are the fullest arrangements, featuring both the jazz quartet and orchestral string arrangements—a device Waits had employed on some songs on his first two albums, but not on Nighthawks. Here we find “Tom Traubert’s Blues,”  “I wish I was in New Orleans,” and the nostalgic “Invitation to the Blues.” Truth be told, I am not a big fan of string arrangements with my jazz—it works best, perhaps, on torch songs sung by sultry chanteuses, but more often just sounds cloying and confectionary, like the thick icing on a sheet cake. Waits pulls it off with a voice full of asphalt and gravel, but it works best with “Invitation to the Blues,”  a noirish ballad so retro that one might call it anachronistic. In it, Waits sings about a guy “who feels just like Cagney” taking a shot at romance with a waitress who “looks like Rita Hayworth,” despite the long odds of success. Sure, the song has strings in the background but, having in my twenties dissipated countless wee morning hours in coffee shops and diners while contemplating some bored waitress who barely recognized my existence, I can’t help but like the song; I’m a sucker for doomed, maudlin romance.

The gem of the album is also the darkest, the title track “Small Change.” Here Waits is not so much singing as performing a spoken-word recitation of poetry, punctuated by Tabackin’s mournful saxophone. With some of the most lapidary lyrics on this or any other of his albums, Waits recounts the murder of a small-time crook late at night on a city street and describes the bystanders’ shared indifference to the snuffing out of a human life:  the ambulance drivers are just waiting for their shifts to end, the cops are cracking jokes, and a teenage factotum employed by one of the late-night businesses has been directed to hose the blood off the sidewalk. As various passersby filch the dead man’s ring, hat, and watch fob, hookers ply their trade, “their mouths cut just like/Razor blades, and their eyes are like stilettos.”

Worth singling out, too, is the brilliant “Step Right Up,” Waits’ playfully cynical indictment of American commercialism. The music is all jazz quartet, no strings, and Waits half speaks, half scats the rhythmic song which consists almost entirely of crass advertising phrases—particularly the kind one might see on TV, late at night, in the 1970s—one critic dubbed the song “proto-rap.” Much of it consists of banal slogans: “Act now!” “bargains galore,” “everything must go,” into which he gradually weaves ever more outlandish claims: “It gives you an erection, it wins the election.” Waits also works in a few genuine advertising tag lines from those distant times, such as Zenith’s “the quality goes in before the name goes on,” and Tegrin shampoo’s infamous sympathy for “the heartbreak of psoriasis.” The song is funny, for sure—but it also makes a pointed statement about Americans’ moth-to-the-candle attraction to shills and the prospect of accumulating ever greater quantities of “stuff.” We could have used a revival of the song during the last presidential election.

For me, however, the glory of “Step Right Up” is that it conjures up memories of one of the best concerts I ever attended. Right after the release of Small Change, Waits went on tour to promote it;  gone were Shelley Manne, Jim Hughart, and Lew Tabackin, replaced for the tour with less famous jazz sidemen, a trio Waits christened “The Nocturnal Emissions.”   No less a musical aficionado than this blog’s very Curator—in those days as bearded and hirsute as a Muppet—joined me in my puke yellow Ford Courier in December 1976 for the 90-mile drive up US 101 to see Waits open for the French jazz fusion violinist Jean-Luc Ponty at the Arlington Theater in Santa Barbara. What twisted mind conjured up such a musical pairing I cannot say, but it was genius. The genteel old Arlington Theater had been constructed earlier in the century to resemble a Spanish mission, and the ceiling was painted a midnight blue with tiny points of starlight, to mimic sitting in a Spanish colonial courtyard under the stars. The Curator and I took our seats, the house lights were turned off, and in the blackness Waits and the Nocturnal Emissions took their places. Like some inebriated interpretation of the first chapter of Genesis, Waits flamboyantly ignited a match, piercing the void, lit his cigarette in a sweeping motion, and growled the opening bars of “Step Right Up.” I have been told hat Stravinsky’s ballet The Rite of Spring provoked a riot at its Paris debut, and if the Santa Barbara crowd had not been so terminally laid back, Waits’ opening for Ponty might have produced a similar outcome. As it was, Waits’ performance was met with bemusement and impatience by a mellow audience expecting the trademark electronic arpeggios of the Gallic superstar. The Curator and I—albeit fans of Ponty—were simply delighted. After the concert, we stopped at the Sambo’s coffee shop there in Santa Barbara—and in walked Ponty! But—that is a tale for another time. Let’s keep the focus on Waits.

As good as Small Change is, it represents the apogee, the limit, of Waits’ skid-row bard approach to his art. Already one senses Waits is searching for ways to expand his idiosyncratic music by including darker material, edgier satire, and so on. This would become more noticeable in his immediately subsequent albums, as he pushed the envelope but never quite escaped it, performing a duet with Bette Midler on Foreign Affairs, and singing a cover of “Somewhere,” from West Side Story on 1978’s Blue Valentine. It wouldn’t be until 1983’s Swordfish Trombones that he broke from his 1970s persona, for better or worse. In a sense, then, Waits’ achievement in Small Change carries the same bittersweet taste of so many of his songs:  it represents a peak moment of success, but like all pinnacles, it could only lead one down until a new mountain top could be attempted. Small Change was a summit that Waits would not equal again for many years.

—Leo the Deacon

Steve Hillage: L

Released in September 1976, this is a wonderful album. L is an intentional throwback to late sixties psychedelic rock. The first track is a cover of Donovan’s “Hurdy Gurdy Man,” and given the original historic status, its reasonable to push back and ask, “Is this really necessary?”, particularly on a prog rock album? Well, given the introductory use of shenai (an Indian oboe-like instrument) and Hillage’s amazing guitar work, this may not be necessary, but it is irresistible and fully sets the mood for the album. Todd Rundgren is the producer, and we hear that with the sped-up, tape-manipulated coda and the ethereal, cosmic intro to the second track, “Hurdy Gurdy Glissando,” begins as an apparently free-form improvisation, thoughtful and reflective, with no elements of self-indulgence, but transitions into an early Pink Floyd art song, followed by more instrumental work, highlighted with Roger Powell’s keyboard work. Powell was a protegee of the famous Bob Moog (creator of the Moog synthesizer, of course) as well as the keyboardist on the preceding Todd Rundgren’s Utopia albums.

The rest of the album continues with a general prog-rock-enhanced sixties psychedelia sound with vocal material simple and accessible, but much like Pink Floyd’s early work, never puerile or simplistic. The first track on the second side, “Om Nama Shivaya,” is particularly notable for its blend of Indian, Asian, and Western elements, and, as you would expect, Hillage’s guitar work. “Lunar Musick Suite” is next and is the highlight of the album: powerful, relentless, and hearkening back to both Gong and Rundgren’s Utopial work. The album is bookended with a fine rendition of George Harrison’s “It’s All Too Much.”

Hillage is one of the most underrated guitarists in rock. I snuck in somehow, moving with the flow of the crowd, to see him at a sold-out performance in London at the Marquee Club, but the bouncer figured out that I didn’t have a ticket and escorted me out. At that point, I bought a ticket from a late arrival and came back into the club, enjoying about two-thirds of the set until the same bouncer, a thick-forearmed brute who was about twice my weight, snuck up behind me and leveled both of his fists at the back of my neck, collapsing me to the floor, partially unconscious. My next stop was a nearby hospital for an X-ray, and though nothing was broken, I suspect this is the primary cause of on-and-off arthritic symptoms in my neck over the last thirty-five years. The neck hurts just typing this up. But I never regret a moment of risk or insanity that I engaged in my youth. Do I wish the music of today was equally adventurous as that of the 1970s — of course, but I accept the music of today as it is, even the tunes that cycle through the same tired I-V-vi-VI or vi-IV-I-V (or the most common three-chord modal progressions), just as I accept I am no longer as adventurous and often have a fairly predictable daily routine when not traveling. But just as new music continues to develop and move forward, so do old relics like me, one way or another.

Stevie Wonder: Songs in the Key

Steve Wonder released the two LP Songs in the Key of Life in late September of 1976, by far his best-selling, most ambitious, and most critically acclaimed album of his prolific career. Some may think it’s a bit of a stretch, but Stevie Wonder’s willingness to take unusual harmonic paths reminds me of Schubert’s innovative and independent approach.

Wonder embraces jazz influences and the associated ninths, elevenths, and the occasional thirteenth chord, but uses them in his own distinctive ways, using dominant ninth and suspended ninth chords to build the soulful warmth of tracks like “Isn’t She Lovely” and “As,” while relying on minor elevenths to anchor the more repetitive and hypnotic passages found on “Pastime Paradise” and “Ordinary Pain.” He also uses minor ninths, major ninths, and, for musical tension, thirteenth chords.

More remarkable, and the reason I associate him with Schubert, is his creative exploration of unusual chord progressions. I don’t have the musical ear, and you may not have the interest, for me to detail the exact progressions, but the combination of these explorations and the way Wonder uses ninths and elevenths creates a clearly identifiable personal sound, a sound that is fully present on this album.

Wonder is not a great lyricist, and I suspect that’s mostly because he writes the music first, sometimes starting with the melody, sometimes playing with chord progressions, but usually coming up with natural, authentic music, to which he then fits placeholder lyrics, tightening them up, or entirely replacing them for the final product. The music is the attraction here, and the lyrics sometimes add to the overall quality, and never seem to get in the way. In a sentence, the music is the overall attraction here.

Hopefully you have heard this album, maybe many times, and there is no need for me to break this down track by track. If, due to your age, or by some chance of the arc of your life, you haven’t heard this yet, please give it a spin (or a stream), even if you’re a prog-head, jazz or classical music snob like me.

Category:

Album review, Fifty Year Friday, Fifty Year Friday, Folk Rock, jazz, Jazz Rock, Music & Musings, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: August 1976; Return to Forever: Romantic Warrior

It is my pleasure to announce that this month’s Fifty Year Friday is provided by guest author Leo the Deacon.

Return to Forever: Romantic Warrior


Ask the average person, a regular Joe, what the signature music of the 1970s was, and dollars to doughnuts, the answer you will get is disco. And to be sure, it was a phenomenon—the inevitable populist backlash to progressive rock, the best of which (think Gentle Giant,  King Crimson, or Emerson, Lake, & Palmer), challenged its listeners to do just that: listen.  Just listen.  But, as Pascal declared,  “All of man’s misfortune comes from one thing, which is not knowing how to sit quietly in a room.”  Too many of my generation just wanted to dance, and disco’s Dionysian impulse trumped the Apollonian appeal of prog rock.  Full transparency here:  as disco came to dominate the college social scene in the late ‘70s, I was put at a distinct disadvantage.  I like to think that I have some redeeming virtues, but physical grace would not be one of them. Diffident with the ladies,  all I had to offer was a fondness for words and a sense of humor, neither of which was easy to deploy in the thumpa-thumpa of a disco club, where one was expected to strut and flex and display his plumage like some desperate bird of paradise in the New Guinea jungle.  Yes, I’m still bitter…

Disco may have gotten all the attention, but at the risk of being accused of looking for a pony in a dung heap,  I would argue that the 1970s produced another signature sound:  the amalgam of jazz and progressive rock known as jazz fusion.  Pioneered by vibraphonist Gary Burton with his Duster album in 1967 and legitimated in 1969 by Miles Davis’ In a Silent Way, fusion grew in prominence and popularity in the 1970s as jazz musicians sought a way forward from the esoteric wilderness of avant-garde and free jazz, seeking a style that would attract an audience.  The result was a body of excellent jazz that held musical sway for a decade until a wave of talented young jazz musicians such as Wynton Marsalis and Terence Blanchard revived and modernized hard bop and post-bop jazz.  (Yes, I am aware that Marsalis also championed “neo-bop” although I am not convinced that neo-bop differs significantly from post-bop; it is as much an attitude as it is a musical genre.)

The topic today, though, is  1970s fusion and, from my eccentric point of view, three albums in particular stand out as emblematic of that time and style:  The Mahavishnu Orchestra’s Visions of the Emerald Beyond, Jean-Luc Ponty’s Aurora, and Return to Forever’s Romantic Warrior.   I can already hear the outraged cries of “What? No Weather Report? No Pat Metheny or Herbie Hancock?”  Cool down, take a deep breath. They are all worthy. I freely confess that my trinity of iconic fusion albums is subjective and idiosyncratic.   It is heavily weighted toward the context in which I encountered the music and the associations it retains in memory.   For me, the opening notes of any one of Visions of the Emerald Beyond, Aurora, or Romantic Warrior transport me to 1976. In those days, I and my roommate—we called him Wildman—would lounge around the backyard firepit immolating hot dogs while the sun set and we listened to the latest jazz cascade from the speakers propped up in the windows of my garage apartment.  We lived in the easy penury of college kids, feasting on hot dogs and box macaroni and cheese, dreaming of the days when we would have real jobs and real money—not recognizing how good we already had it.

Romantic Warrior was one of Wildman’s albums; we played it to death. Representing the full ripening of Chick Corea’s fusion project called Return to Forever, Romantic Warrior was probably the best of the three iconic albums.  It features Corea on keyboards, both electronic and acoustic; Al DiMeola, a newcomer to the band, on guitars; Stanley Clarke brandishes the various basses employed, and Lenny White commands a range of drums.  Most of the compositions, and the longest ones, are by Corea, but each of the other three band members contributes one composition apiece.  Too many cooks spoil the broth goes the old adage, but not this time:  the six discrete compositions of Romantic Warrior fit each other like the tesserae of a mosaic.  Had it been indifferently executed, Romantic Warrior could have been just an anthology of loosely similar pieces, but instead they achieve a synergy that makes it greater than the sum of its parts.

The album opens with Corea’s “Medieval Overture,” but this is no Hildegard von Bingen antiphon. Instead, it acts as a kind of framing device, establishing a mood or atmosphere for the album.  Corea’s electronic keyboards burst energetically, like the atoms popping in the core of a reactor, and are soon joined by Di Meola’s guitar,  and White’s driving drum work. The energetic opening gradually morphs into a more languid, mysterious passage—this is medieval the way Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings is medieval, emphasizing the mystical and the fantastic, where dragons lurk in the blank spaces of maps and demons seek your soul.   Soon enough, though, Corea’s popping keyboards bring us back into the light, preparing us for the next adventure.

That adventure would be Lenny White’s funky “Sorceress,” in which DiMeola’s guitar tends to come to the forefront, frequently using Corea’s keyboards as a stable platform for guitar riffs as well as for Clarke’s insistent bass. Di Meola’s guitar keens and soars even more prominently—as one might expect—in “Majestic Dance” which is Di Meola’s contribution to this musical chanson de geste.  Those who lean more to the “rock” side of jazz-rock, will gravitate to “Majestic Dance” and “Sorceress,”  and perhaps to “The Magician” as well, Stanley Clarke’s piece in which he demonstrates what can be done with an electric bass.

The center of gravity of the album, though, is the title cut, another of Corea’s compositions and the second longest on the album.  My traditional biases are showing here, but the genius of “Romantic Warrior,” the third of six compositions on the album, is that it is acoustic, and Corea’s piano playing is turned loose.  This acoustic gem, held fast in an electronic setting, shows Corea mastering the essence of fusion without plugging into the power grid.

The album Romantic Warrior is brought to a dénouement with Corea’s “Duel of the Jester and the Tyrant (Parts I and II).”  This cut does not bring the album to a full circle musically, but it provides a climax or resolution to it.  Like the opening “Medieval Overture, ” “Duel” helps to frame the whole album and brings it to a satisfying conclusion.  Again, Corea’s keyboards stand out to me; in “Part I” of this last cut one can detect, I think, a subtle Latin flavor infused in his playing, a faint foreshadowing, perhaps, of his more explicit My Spanish Heart, which he would release under his own name in October of 1976.

In Romantic Warrior, Return to Forever reached its apogee; it is hard to point to another RTF album, good though they were, that achieves quite the same level of musical craftsmanship and creative symbiosis.  At the time, though, Wildman and I did not think in such grandiose terms.  Cash-strapped and barely fledged as we were, Romantic Warrior was a small, accessible luxury.  To us, it was simply a tasty album, perfect for kicking back while a stealthy chill permeated the dusk, and a fitting soundtrack for charring hot dogs and boasting of all the great things we would do. 

— Leo the Deacon

Category:

Fifty Year Friday, Fusion Jazz, jazz, Jazz Rock

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Queen, Joni Mitchell, Keith Jarrett, Magma, Vangelis, Chris Squire & more; Fifty Year Friday: November and December 1975

Queen: Night at the Opera

Released in November of 1975, Night at the Opera starts with the excitement of an ocean voyage — we hear arpeggiated waves from the piano, whale rumblings from the bass, bird cries and seagull squawks from multitracked guitar breaking into soft strains of a tango quickly turning into heavy metal. This is Freddie Mercury the composer at the height of his craft.

After having purchased three Queen albums already, the first thing I did when I brought this album home in December of 1975 was note which tracks were attributed to Mercury — this served as indicators to what tracks would impress me the most. That turned out to be an effective predictor, but, importantly, the rest of the band’s contributions were some of their very best songs, making this album packed with classic material from start to the pinnacle of the album, the penultimate track, “Bohemian Rhapsody” — one of those rare instances in rock since the Beatles had disbanded where a truly great work of music made its way from legendary status with serious listeners, musicians, and dedicated fans to legendary status with the general public, even though, perhaps as expected, it took some time to do so.

And just as the Beatles elevated their work with multi-track musical enhancements, so too did Queen elevate Night at the Opera to a precisely rendered set of cohesive numbers that deservedly live up to the album’s title. Now, don’t get me wrong — we have an amazing musical diversity on this album — with such diversity in just Mercury’s compositions — but we add to that “I’m in Love with My Car”, “You’re My Best Friend,” the vaudevillian “Good Company” with ukulele and outstanding guitar accompaniment, and “The Prophet’s Song” with its brilliant use of deceptively simple imitative counterpoint, and it’s pretty easy to understand how Night at the Opera more than holds its own today as a timeless classic.

Keith Jarrett : The Köln Concert

One of my favorite possessions was the triple LP Keith Jarrett Solo Concerts: Bremen/Lausanne which I had purchased with Christmas money in 1973. It was just incredible to have a three LP set of piano improvisation of such high quality. Given that, I am puzzled why I never bought The Köln Concert until the complete version made its way on to CD around 1984.

Recorded live in January of 1975, The Köln Concert was released in late November of 1975, the album starts off plaintively in the style of the quiet Americana reflectiveness so well done by classical composers like Aaron Copland and Roy Harris. For the first improvisation, Jarrett leans heavily on repetitive phrases and ostinato-like patterns to continue to move the music forward, flowing as if driven by stream of consciousness, yet always compelling and logical, deftly avoiding lingering too long in any single style, texture, or mode of emotional expression as the music logically unfolds.

The second piece, broken up onto three sides of the double LP album, is dramatically different in tone and character. Like the first improvisation, it evades any simple stylistic labels sometimes flirting into rock piano improvisation. Where the first improvisation was reflective, the second is inexhaustibly joyous and intensely rhythmically as Jarrett turns the piano into a percussive engine, hammering out a powerful, trance-like groove with his left hand that is pure, ecstatic energy. This propulsive marathon of invention continues through Part IIb, before finally dissolving and making way for the famous encore, “Part IIc.” After all the complex fireworks, this final piece is a moment of breathtaking, lyrical grace — a simple, hymn-like melody that releases all the tension and remains one of the most beautiful themes Jarrett ever played.

The music makes this performance legendary, but like the most interesting legends, it has an almost mythical backstory. Jarrett had specifically requested a Bösendorfer 290 Imperial concert grand. Unfortunately, what was made available on the stage was a baby grand rehearsal piano in such bad condition that Jarrett had initially refused to play on it. The requested piano was in storage and due to horrid weather was not able to safely replace the inferior piano. So Jarrett was forced to confront the rehearsal piano, an unsuitable, tinny, and out-of-tune practice piano he tested during the afternoon of the concert and was so dissatisfied with it he almost threw the towel in performing that evening. The promoter finally convinced him that he had a responsibility to play as best as he could for a sell-out crowd and somehow do his best to deal with the inadequacies of the inferior rehearsal piano. Jarrett went forward with the performance and it was this limitation, this ‘bad instrument,’ that forced Jarrett to navigate that evening’s improvisations into new territory, compelling him to avoid the shrill upper register notes and the weak lower bass notes, replacing the harmonic function of the latter with lower middle register accompaniment patterns and repetitive ostinatos — thus creating the distinctive style that unifies the music of this remarkable performance.

Joni Mitchell: The Hissing of Summer Lawns

Released in November of 1975, The Hissing of Summer Lawns finds Joni Mitchell presiding over one of the most seamless marriages of lyrics and music of the 1970s. The poetry here is evocative and ironic, crafting memorable metaphors and unforgettable images. It’s often said that when constraints are placed on artists, they often produce their best work. For an artist who had previously written music around pre-existing lyrics to then make that shift over to the craft of fitting words into already composed music, one might expect a change in character — or at least in lyrical texture. Beginning around 1973 or 1974, Mitchell’s lyrics indeed became more fluid, impressionistic, and engaged, so that by the time of this album, she had achieved a near-perfect fusion of music and poetry, with the music among her finest creations.

And how does one classify the sound? One cannot. It draws on pop, rock, folk, and jazz, yet it belongs to none of them. The album charts its own course, allowing space for stellar contributors like Bud Shank and Joe Sample to leave their imprint without overshadowing Mitchell’s vision. The closing track, “Shadows and Light,” brings the album to a transcendent conclusion: a multi-tracked a cappella choir of Mitchell’s voice against a contrasting, processed drone from a Farfisa organ. The result is a kind of sonic cathedral, where light and sound filter through like stained glas — ever shifting, quietly monumental, and filled with a sense of cosmic design.

The entire album is a showcase of extracting equilibrium from motion. The music is built on a strong foundation yet exploratory and liberating. Here we have an artist of the highest level in full command of her gifts, unafraid to blur the lines between song and painting, intellect and intuition. The Hissing of Summer Lawns continues to be an album worth returning to: we achieve familiarity with repeated listenings but never is the magic lessened.

Chris Squire: Fish Out of Water

Another November 1975 release was Chris Squire’s highly accessible, melodic Fish Out of Water. For those like me who couldn’t get enough of the brilliance of Yes’s Fragile, this album was filled with the musical inventiveness and wonderful bass lines that dominated that Yes album. Musicians include Bill Bruford on drums and percussion, with saxophonist Mel Collins on two tracks and Patrick Moraz on bass synthesizer and organ on one track . Squire handles all the vocals, bass guitar, some acoustic twelve-string guitar and electric bass. Special compliments go Andrew Pryce Jackman who provides acoustic and electric piano keyboards and seamlessly integrated orchestration providing the album with additional depth and further contributing to its ebullient vitality. Fish Out of Water is a must-have album for all Yes fans surpassing most of their catalog released after 1975.

Crack the Sky: Crack the Sky

Crack the Sky’s debut was released in limited quantities in November 1975 by the independent label, Lifesong. Is this the biggest accomplishment by this label? Depends on your perspective — Lifesong posthumously re-released several greatest hits albums of Jim Croce material starting in 1976 as well as being responsible for “The Biggest Rock Event of the Decade” — that’s right — the rock opera Spider-Man: Rock Reflections of a Superhero — an album of such popularity that I cannot find any entry for it on Wikipedia, though in fairness, the title was released again twenty-five years later on CD and is currently available on eBay for $49.

Putting Spider-Man historical considerations aside, the Crack in the Sky album, despite its limited distribution, eventually climbed up to spot 161 on the Billboard Charts in February 1976 aided by some airplay in the Baltimore area and more importantly being identified by the Rolling Stone magazine as the debut album of 1975. 

Keyboard player and lead vocalist John Palumbo wrote all the music and lyrics showcasing an eclectic range of styles incorporating sixties pop elements and contemporary progressive rock elements. Both the music and lyrics are generally quirky, with a tongue-in-cheek, often ironic, humor deeply embedded in the lyrics and the music rich with accessible melody. There are musical moments that recall surf music, the Beatles, Procol Harum, early Genesis, and even Gentle Giant. It’s not a particularly well-produced album but it is a lot of fun, and an album that anyone who considers themselves well-versed in the history of rock music should have heard at least once.

Tangerine Dream: Ricochet

Recorded in late October and early November of 1975 in England, partly live at Fairfields Hall in Croydon and partly in the studio, Ricochet was released in December of 1975. It continues that rhythmically intense sequencer-driven signature sound from Rubycon, delivering it with sparkling clarity and focus. The music unfolds logically with a strong sense of overall meaning and purpose, effectively locking in one’s attention and never letting it go. Side One, “Ricochet, Part One” contains studio improvisations and recreations of live performances with side two, “Ricochet, Part Two” being predominantly live.

Vangelis: Heaven and Hell

Released in November of 1975, Heaven and Hell is a mixture of the cinematic, early and modern “classical” music, Greek folk and some elements of progressive rock. The album effectively combines Vangelis’s mastery of synthesizer with orchestra to create a richly themed concept album about the duality of human interaction with good and evil, the light and the darkness of existence. Side One, “Heaven and Hell, Part I”, opens furiously with synthesizer and chorus setting a strong symphonic tone and concludes with vocals by Jon Anderson of Yes segmented with a glorious orchestral and synthesizer interlude. Side Two, “Heaven and Hell, Part II” opens up, contrastingly, darkly and ominously, generally maintaining that mood with the notable interspersion of an exuberant, infectious Greek-influenced folk-dance-like section and its more reflective ending. The musical tone-painting is particularly impressive, effectively supporting side two’s darker thematic premise.

Mike Oldfield: Ommadawn

Released in November of 1975, Ommadawn is Mike Oldfield’s third major symphonic work, following the partly Exorcist-driven phenomenon of Tubular Bells and the expansive, pastoral landscapes of Hergest Ridge. Ommadawn mostly consists of one long work, the title track, divided between the two sides of the original LP with a short additional work at the end. It is this title track that is the gem and centerpiece of the album, excelling in compositional presentation and development of thematic material with the first theme deftly varied, followed by an abruptly effective intrusion of the second theme around the 4:15 mark, which is also skillfully varied. After this exposition of fundamental material, both themes are further developed and extended with a richness of instrumental variety and occasional vocals (using a cleverly altered Irish translation of some simple English words) invoking a tribal sense of community.

The second half of “Ommadawn” is more dramatic with greater musical weight and contrast, further exploring a wondrous world-fusion sound that would soon become a whole sub-genre of music. The highlights here include Paddy Moloney on the Irish equivalent of bagpipes, more properly known as Uilleann pipes, and an uplifting blend of vocals and glockenspiel followed by an Irish-like dance section that brings the work to a close.

For those looking to check this album out, avoid the original mix and go for the sonically spectacular 2010 remix which provides significant clarification and enhancement of individual instruments and provides rich, immersive stereo.

Magma: Live/Hhaï

Released in December of 1975, I bought this album in Germany in 1978, and I was not surprised in the least to find this live album of the French progressive rock group in Germany. Unlike Ange, which had a distinct French coloration to their albums, Magma had a Germanic sound and eschewed the French language to adapt a language more suitable to their music — not German, but — okay let’s break this down.

Christian Vander, son of French jazz pianist Maurice Vander, was born in Paris in 1948. Exposed to both jazz and classical music, he grew up listening to Wagner, Bach and Stravinsky and met several great jazz artists including Chet Baker, who gifted Christian Vander his first drum kit and Elvin Jones who shared his musical expertise. Vander brought all these influences as well as his intense admiration for a number of jazz giants, most particularly John Coltrane, as well as drummers like Art Blakey, Max Roach, Kenny Clarke and Tony Williams. Vander brought all such influences with him, including Coltrane’s searching musical intensity, when he founded Magma in 1969 as Magma’s leader, primary composer, drummer and an important contributing vocalist.

With the formation of Magma, Vander begin the creation of the mythology of Magma concept albums and the appropriate language — Kobaïan, the language of the fictional world of Kobaïa — a distant planet colonized by a group of humans fleeing earth’s moral and ecological collapse. The language’s main function was to provide the appropriate musical sound for Magma’s music and to represent a sacred language of renewal. Its sonic characteristics are starkly different than French, coming closer to Slavic and Germanic patterns, but intrinsically supportive of Vander’s musical ideas, which slowly coalesced into a dark, more teutonic, primitively spiritual style, with texture and timbral/orchestral characteristics eventually significantly influenced by Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, which Vander first heard in 1972.

This 1975 Live/Hhaï album includes material as early as 1973, all of which represents the mature, dramatic Magma sound prevalent from 1973 on. The original album was a two LP set that could still fit on a standard single CD, but is currently sold as a two CD set. It is available for streaming on the usual sources for anyone wanted to sample this unique music, a music that will retain its excitement, mystery and appeal for centuries to come.

Brian Eno: Another Green World and Discreet Music; Fripp & Eno: Evening Star

In November of 1975, Brian Eno released his third solo studio album, the remarkable Another Green World which, while not as ambient as his upcoming work, is certainly an unconventional pop album full of highly accessible music surrounded with imaginatively unusual context. Eno provides a mix of catchy songs with him on vocals, some amazing guitar work from Robert Fripp, but mostly a level of exotic, quirky arrangements that elevate each and every track. Highly recommend!

In December of 1975, Eno’s fourth studio album is released, Discreet Music, and it is a boldly innovative ambient album. The first side, the title track, is a work of beauty and can be listened to directly or used as effective background music for a range of activities including writing, reading and napping off. The second side is more challenging: three “elastic” arrangements of Pachelbel’s well-known canon where the parts move at different paces — not by chance or performer’s whim but intentionally arranged to distort the relationship of the individual parts and the overall musical experience. One can still hear traces of the original canon — yet each of the three very different arrangements alters the original musical architecture with time-based abstractions that are roughly parallel to distortion concepts in cubism, futurism and surrealism and also seem related to rules-driven processes that are found in works by artists like Paul Klee, Bridget Riley, Sol LeWitt and even those famous rectangle paintings of Piet Mondrian. One also has to give credit to John Cage’s influence which opened up this whole realm of unexpected alterations whether aleatoric or rules-driven.

The most challenging of these three albums, Fripp & Eno’s Evening Star, released also in December of 1975, is another tale of two sides. The first side of four tracks, each with new standard ambient titles, is by far the most accessible and functions very effectively as truly ambient music or even meditative, reflective music, particularly the first, third tracks and fourth tracks “Wind on Water,” “Evensong,” and “Wind on Wind.”

The second side is devoted to a single piece “An Index of Metals” divided up into six tracks. I doubt there are many people that can turn it on in the background and experience a calming or relaxing effect from it. It is filled with tension and not smooth or flowing. I suspect many will just find it plain irritating if using it to relax, read, or write by as it has a somewhat intrusive and ominous character. It is more listening music and needs the attention of an active listener to properly navigate the tension, suspense, and forward progress of the music. The last of the six tracks is the most gritty of all and it ends with the tension decaying as opposed to any resolution. This sets up a nice contrast to some more relaxing ambient music, which would become more and more common and commercially viable thanks to this early work by pioneers like Eno and Fripp.



For additional posts related to Gentle Giant, please check these out:
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https://zumpoems.com/2020/11/20/fifty-year-friday-november-1970/

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https://zumpoems.com/2025/11/14/fifty-year-friday-november-and-december-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/03/20/fifty-year-friday-march-2020/
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Ambient Music, Fifty Year Friday, Folk Rock, jazz, Jazz Rock, Music, Pop, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: May 1975

Henry Cow: In Praise of Learning

Henry Cow released their second album featuring members of Slapp Happy on May 9, 1975. Fiercely uncompromising, both musically and ideologically, it seamlessly blends rock, Twentieth century classical composition, and radical political commentary with a precision, ambition, and effectiveness as praiseworthy as any work in the 1970s.

Vocalist Dagmar Krause provides a stellar brilliancy the moment she takes over the vocals from Peter Blegard, four seconds into the album on “War,” which at 2:31 in length would have been perfect for radio play in some alternate universe — but alas our universe wasn’t quite up to the challenge of accepting irregularly contoured melodic phrases, asymmetrical time signatures, complex and politically charged lyrics, ominous incursions of harmonic instability, and the interspersion of harnessed chaos between vocal passages.

With the listener’s musical mind properly attuned, Henry Cow unleashes Tim Hodgkinson’s 16-minute “Living in the Heart of the Beast.” Initially, Peter Blegvad was asked to provide the lyrics, but ultimately Hodgkinson took over the task, crafting a set of syllables and meanings that seamlessly support the music. The work avoids any traditional structure, initially navigating shifts between vocal intensity and instrumental reflection until a wonderful organ solo introduces a forceful, uplifting instrumental interlude. This gives way to serious introspection from the organ, which then returns to the insistent, march-like vocal over metrical shifts, now irrevocably increasing in intensity until the coda winds down the work. Perhaps this may musically recall for some listeners the finale of ELP’s Tarkus as the wounded Tarkus retreats from the battlefield; however, in this case, the music is a call to charge into “fight for freedom,” providing a remarkable level of optimism and energy, effectively enveloping the listener in an afterglow as side one comes to a close.

Continuing the topic of marching to fight for freedom, side two opens up with “Beginning: the Long March”, an abstract, avant-garde representation of the march towards battle. It’s unstructured collage of electronic effects and musique concrète sensibilities may not appeal to the casual listener, but for someone focused on the overall flow and intent of the album this is a very appropriate and effective transaction to the next musical milestone, “Beautiful as the Moon; Terrible as an Army with Banners.”

This second track of side two, “Beautiful as the Moon; Terrible as an Army with Banners”, begins with Krause’s finely controlled, expressively nuanced delivery, dominating the first half with the entreaty to “seize the morning.” An instrumental commentary propels the start of the second half, with some excellent pointillistic contrapuntal piano punctuation with authoritative commanding vocals seizing the spotlight again to effectively close the work.

The last track, Morning Star, given its significance by the previous track’s lyrics of “A star mourns souls ungraved – ignored. Slow wheels: Mira. Algol. Maia” and “Rose Dawn Daemon Rise Up and seize the morning” brings the album to an effective close, firmly resolute and transcendent, firmly tying the album’s musical and verbal themes of awake, consider, prepare, engage and, ultimately, arrive and be!

Robert Wyatt: Ruth Is Stranger Than Fiction

Robert Wyatt’s Ruth Is Stranger Than Richard, released in May 1975, is a strikingly unpredictable album, filled with angular compositions that shift direction almost from note to note. Unlike his previous two solo albums, which were composed entirely of his own material, this third album finds Wyatt showcasing the music of others, creatively arranging and in most cases adding lyrics. Most compositions are by Wyatt’s friends and musical associates, but Wyatt also provides a fine treatment of jazz bassist Charlie Haden’s “Song for Che.”

The album’s eclecticism is immediately apparent with a strong focus on jazz. Is this jazz-rock, jazz-prog-rock or mostly jazz? Not sure, but it is wonderful and a non-stop thrill from start to finish! The flow of the album never flirts with predictability, its angularity lending a sharp, dynamic energy that keeps the listener engaged.

With contributions from Brian Eno, trumpeter Mongezi Feza and Fred Frith on piano, Ruth Is Stranger Than Richard thrives on musical interplay and spontaneity. It’s a thrilling listen, bursting with invention, providing a richness of the unexpected without being disjointed or even mildly inaccessible. Wyatt’s vision is as playful as it is sophisticated, making this a truly exciting and engaging listening adventure.

Weather Report: Tale Spinnin

Tales Spinnin’, released in May of 1975, is a vibrant, colorful album that showcases Weather Report at the height of their fusion creativity. The first side of the album is particularly striking, filled with bold, dynamic compositions that blend intricate melodies with rich textures. It is if I can almost hear colors when listening to this first side — it is that visually evocative, aurally. I wish I had some sophisticated color display screens for both the left and right channels that would translate the music into various bursts and evolving strands of colors, but lacking that, I can luxuriate in the radiant waves of Zawinul’s lush synthesizers and Wayne Shorter’s fluid, expressive saxophone work. The interplay between all five musicians is electric, creating a vivid musical landscape that’s both sophisticated and exploratory. The rhythms are complex yet accessible, propelling the tracks into lush, otherworldly soundscapes that are full of life and color.

Hawkwind: Warrior On the Edge of Time

Released on May 9. 1975, Hawkwind’s Warrior on the Edge of Time is both engaging and consistently accessible, effectively blending their signature space rock with more traditional prog-rock elements. There is strong emphasis on synthesizers with some effective flute, guitar and even violin to supplement the keyboards, thundering bass, and the often incessant forward-driving percussion. “Assault & Battery” begins the album in grand style, immediately immersing the listener in Hawkwind’s signature Space Rock. This album showcases Hawkwind at their peak, delivering a memorable, mythic sci-fi journey through the fabric of time and space rock.

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Album review, Fifty Year Friday, Fusion Jazz, jazz, Jazz Rock, Progressive Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: March 1975

Hatfield and the North: The Rotter’s Club

Released on 7 March 1975, The Rotter’s Club is one of the finest progressive rock albums , delivering a rich blend of humor, virtuosity, and intricate composition that captures the essence of the era while being identifiably distinct from any other album of its time. As the second studio album by British avant-garde and progressive rock band Hatfield and the North, it succeeded their self-titled debut (1973), which established them as a prominent figure in the Canterbury scene. But The Rotter’s Club marked a progression, both musically and conceptually, toward an even more refined and ambitious sound. It is a record that not only brings together various aspects of jazz, rock, and classical music but also emphasizes the playful and eccentric side of progressive rock, a nice contrast to the overly serious, often over-reaching and sometimes pretentious reputation ascribed to it by is staunchest critics.

Tangerine Dream: Rubycon

With the release of Rubycon on March 21, 1975, Tangerine Dream delivered their fourth studio album, a fully realized version of their relentlessly driving “Krautrock” industrial, high-tech, space music. While Rubycon clearly evolves from their previous album, Phaedra, it represents a leap forward, much like the internet is to the stone tablet. Whether Tangerine Dream’s change in direction was influenced by considerations about what musical characteristics would work best for film soundtracks and greater audience engagement, or whether it was partly inspired by the success of Kraftwerk, Rubycon marks the undeniable establishment of a new genre of music — one distinct from anything that came before it. Tangerine Dream’s flirtations with Stockhausen and other electronic composers led them in a direction that was as different from the contemporary world of so-called “classical” and “serious” music as that music was from the tonally extended late Romantic music. What emerged was something accessible, mesmerizing, hypnotic, and directly relevant — an exciting departure from the avant-garde style that, for most of the listening public, had become irrelevant.

Rick Wakeman: Myths & Legends Of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table

Rick Wakeman’s King Arthur, released March 27, 1975, is filled with interesting keyboard and instrumental passages that should interest most progressive rock fans. Though the vocal sections are not exactly comprised of tunes your likely to sing on your own or even along with — they functionally provide narrative, much like Baroque and Classical Era recitatives and, overall the album works well as a dramatic experience. An alternative to the original, with much better overall sound and additional musical content (which had to be left off the original single LP due to time constraints) is the 2012 two-CD version. If you haven’t hear either, best to go for the updated version with the extra material and superior production.

Soft Machine: Bundles

Released in March 1975, Soft Machine’s Bundles is successfully melds an electronic jazz-rock sound with compatible prog-rock elements. The addition of guitarist Allan Holdsworth. known for his fluid, virtuosic playing, injects the album with a fresh intensity, particularly notable in the multi-track Hazard Profile, a nineteen minute five-part suite that showcases Soft Machine’s new direction inclusive of Holdsworth’s soaring guitar work supported by a propulsive, energetic rhythm section. Side one concludes with Holdsworth’s acoustic and beautifully introspective “Gone Sailing.”

Side two is equally compelling with the first four tracks seamlessly blending into a a single experience. The next track, “Four Gongs Two Drums” provides a short percussive intermission, with hints of Indonesian Gamelan followed by the final track, “The Floating World”, a reflective, drifting, neo-Impressionistic composition that gently glides the listener through a bliss-invoking, peaceful and relaxing musical state, providing a fittingly tranquil, dreamlike-end to this excellent album.

Steely Dan: Katy Lied

Donald Fagan and Walter Becker follow up the classic Pretzel Logic album, with another strong album, rich with jazz-flavored chords, Katy Lied, released in March of 1975. Though not strictly a concept album, the album sounds musically unified and could be considered a song cycle of sorts, justifying the term “lied”, a German term applied to art songs, giving us an additional meaning underneath the mysterious reference to the “Katy tried” and “Katy lies” lyrics in the fifth and final track on the first side, “Dr. Wu.”

David Bowie: Young Americans

With his ninth studio album, released March 7, 1975, once again, Bowie takes off in another musical direction, extending the elements of soulfulness found in Diamond Dogs and in “Lady Grinning Soul” from the earlier Aladdin Sane, into an all-out exploratory, high-art treatment of American soul music. The arrangements are sophisticated, with Tony Visconti deserving similar praise as Bowie for his musical versatility and with strong contributions from Carlos Alomar and additional input from a twenty-three year-old Luthor Vandross. The strongest track, “Fame,” was initially based on an Alomar guitar riff, with John Lennon, who was visiting the New York Electric Ladyland studios, assisting David Bowie in the authoring of the song by providing his sarcastic, ironic, and pessimistic take on the vagaries of fame.

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Album review, Fifty Year Friday, Jazz Rock, Pop, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Peter Hammill, Todd Rundgren, Steely Dan; Fifty Year Friday: February 1974

Peter Hammill: The Silent Corner and the Empty Stage

Released in early February of 1974, even though there is ample participation by fellow Van Der Graaf band mates, this is clearly a personal, Peter Hammill solo effort. From the start Hammill dives inward stirring up and capturing a range of emotional turbulence.  

The album opens with the metrical tempestuous “Modern,” and ends with one of Hammill’s greatest classics, the deeply emotional “A Louse Is Not a Home.” Hammill often performed these two songs along with “The Lie (Bernini’s Saint Theresa)”, also on this album, in the 1970s on solo tours in small venues, injecting every ounce of energy into his dramatic renditions. 

Generally the featured instrument is Hammill’s expressive vocals appropriately supported by piano, mellotron, acoustic and electric guitar with additional support from the VDGG band members with Spirit’s Randy California on lead guitar on one track. The production emphasizes a sense of intimacy which underscores the uncompromising, unsuppressed intimacy, immediacy, and intensity which makes this album so remarkable.

Todd Rundgren: Todd

Todd Rundgren’s eponymous double album, released in February 1974, proclaims energetically, or rather electronically, that Mr. Rundgren is a master composer and arranger, delighting us with a wide array of electronic timbres and effects. Yes, we still have beautiful Rundgren ballads, such as “I Think You Know” and “A Dream Goes On Forever” included amidst all the voltaic dazzle, but the main attractions are Rundgren’s summoning of artfully deployed electronic-generated special effects, his command of various studio production techniques, and his venturing into more challenging musical compositions, like the metrically unbalanced “Drunken Blue Rooster”, the whimsical “An Elpee Worth of Tunes”, and ” the snide, unbridled ”Heavy Metal Kids.” Altogether, this is a extremely enjoyable, adventurous yet cohesive work that some may chose to classify as prog-rock, yet clearly stands separate from anything previously released commercially. This no doubt contributed to it going over the head of just about every major rock critic that reviewed the album in 1974 but also contributes to this being one of the most notable albums from 1974.

Steely Dan: Pretzel Logic

This is just one of those classic rock albums. Released on February 20, 1974, there really isn’t any single track that is at the level of “King of the World” from their previous album, but just about every track here is very close to that level of excellence. They group seems to have intentionally kept each song to AM airplay length — this means that jazz influence is more densely embedded in the tracks, but still handled very artfully and tastefully, retaining the classic Steely Dan sound. 

Brian Eno: Here Comes the Warm Jets

Brian Eno’s debut solo album, Here Comes the Warm Jets, released on February 8, 1973, is a unconventional rich tapestry of accessible pop (think Sid Barrett) set into ingenious contexts. Truly delightful, this album showcases Eno’s unconventional brand of creativity.

Tangerine Dream: Phaedra

Released on the 20th of February 1974, this engaging album overtakes Harmonia’s Musik Von Harmonia, released the previous month, in the race for approaching the fully mature sequence-driven, repetitive, German Prog Rock that would soon become so prevalent. The music truly pulls the listener out of their current environment and into another universe — a universe where sound is not differentiated from sensation, imagery, or existence.

Chase: Pure Music

After a very successful first album, and a weaker second album, it seems Bill Chase finally figured out the best direction to go in — emphasizing a more jazz-based brand of jazz rock, with mainly instrumental material. Every track works nicely, but alas, this would be Chase’s last album due to the crash of the twin-engine charted plane flight to his scheduled performance at the Jackson County Fair. Also lost to us all was drummer Walter Clark, guitarist John Emma, and the especially talented Wallace “Wally” Yohn, who provides some excellent keyboard contributions to this last Chase album.

Chase brings some of his Stan Kenton, Woody Herman and Maynard Ferguson experiences into the music on this album, elevating the content with more sophisticated arrangements and showcasing his personal solo skills at their very best. While Chicago, Lighthouse, If, and Blood, Sweat and Tears, best work was now in the past (by February 1974) is appears that Chase’s best work was tantalizingly close but, unfortunately, for all of us, never captured.

Mick Ronson: Slaughter on 10th Avenue

Released in February 1974, this is about as close to a David Bowie album as one can find which doesn’t have David Bowie involved in singing, performing or producing. We do have another member of Ziggy’s Spider From Mars band, Trevor Bolder on bass, trumpet and trombone, and we have Mike Garson on keyboards (notable especially for his piano contribution on Aladdin Sane) — and we also have two original songs by Bowie, ”Growing Up and I’m Fine” and “Hey Ma, Get Papa.” Ronson’s vocals are second best to Bowie, but good enough to carry the album off nicely. Truly a recommended record for any Bowie fan.

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Fifty Year Friday, Fusion Jazz, Jazz Rock, Music, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Genesis: Selling England By the Pound, The Who: Quadrophenia, and much, much more; Fifty Year Friday: October 1973

Genesis: Selling England By the Pound

Released on either September 29, 1973, or more likely October 5, 1973, “Selling England by The Pound” stands as one of the finest progressive rock albums of the 1970s. The sound is superior to that of their previous album, “Foxtrot,” and the music maintains the same level of excellence. It adeptly balances instrumental passages with vocal sections, blending humor (seen in tracks like “The Battle of Epping Forest” and “Aisle of Plenty”) with more serious compositions.

“Firth of Fifth” (note the humor in the title, which is a reference to Firth of Forth , the fjord of the Forth river, in Scotland, north and northwest of Edinburgh) is my favorite track, particularly due to is introductory theme on piano, later reprised by the group, but there is not a single weak moment on the entire album — and quite an album it is, with seven perfectly realized tracks totaling over fifty-eight minutes of magnificent music.

The Who: Quadrophenia

Released on October 19, 1973, this is the Who’s masterpiece about teenage alienation, angst, attitude, and the multiple personalities vying for integration into the evolving identity of an individual. It also addresses the weaknesses within the UK social system and the moments of solace that British youth of the 1960s sought and found in music and by the seaside. Moreover, this work is an astounding musical achievement, characterized by skillful thematic reiteration. Its musical content can be enjoyed both on a visceral level and intellectually, making it enduringly captivating upon repeated listens. Notably, the lyrics were deftly incorporated into music that was apparently written first, and Townshend has delivered exceptionally well-crafted lyrics that serve as the narrative backbone.

Effectively, this is a rock opera set in 1965, centering around a singular British youth, inspired by conversations Pete Townshend had with early fans of The Who. A significant distinction is that, unlike “Tommy,” which featured two songs by John Entwistle, one by Keith Moon, and a reworking of a Sonny Boy Williamson tune, all the original material here is authored by Pete Townshend. The emphasis is on “initial”, since Townshend intentionally provided a framework of lyrics, melody and chords that would develop into final arrangements through Townshend’s working with the band and the studio equipment to achieve the final product. So though Townshend deserves appropriate credit here for the authorship of this impressive work, it is The Who, as a band, that must be recognized for making this an enduring classic.

For those interested in additional information on this great album, please check out this track-by-track review by Caryn Rose written back in 2013 for Quadrophenia‘s 40th anniversary: Track-By-Track Review

Return to Forever: Hymn of the Seventh Galaxy

Released sometime in October 1973, this third album from Return to Forever magically and masterfully weaves together elements of jazz, fusion and progressive rock. Chick Corea dazzling keyboards and his other worldly — no, make that other galactic — compositions just radiate throughout this album. Fellow band members, Stanley Clarke, Lenny White and Bill Connors are equally up to the challenge, with Mr. Clark providing a wonderfully radiant composition of his own, “After the Cosmic Rain” and exhibiting Olympic-level mastery on electric bass. The coup de grâce is the last track, “The Game Maker”, breathtakingly piloting us over intricate, wondrously, shifting musical landscapes.

Elton John: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

The one obstacle that prevented The Who’s Quadrophenia ever getting to the number one album spot in the UK or in the US, was the multi-million-sales avalanche of Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, released on October 5, 1973, almost two weeks before Quadrophenia. Of the slightly over one hundred million copies of albums Elton has sold, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road accounts for over thirty-one million, and continues to sell in substantial quantities to new Elton John fans today.

Rather than compose music and then fit lyrics into the music, Elton John’s method in the 1970’s, like that of many songwriters, was to take already written lyrics, in Elton’s case partnering with Bernie Taupin, and then create music too complement those lyrics. Considering the nature of many of Taupin’s lyrics, it is rather incredible that Elton created so many highly popular and widely-appealing songs from the initial material. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, in a sense a loose or partial concept album, provides insight into Elton’s range of compositional skills, with the initial track, “Funeral For A Friend:, being one of his rare instrumentals, providing a glimpse into the depth of his creativity when not bound by lyrics. This instrumental introduction is effectively paired with “Love Lies Bleeding” providing an almost progressive-rock opening for the album.

Overall the album is quite good and along with his two albums from 1970 (Elton John and Tumbleweed Connection) and his live album from that period (17-11-70) are a set of his works I hold in high esteem. Now, though the first side and last side of the original 2 LP “GYBR” is indispensable, as is the first track of side two, and the last track of side three, the material in between could be omitted, to get a very fine single LP album, at a total length of around 45 minutes. Now some may wish to further add another track like “The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909–34)” resulting in an album that still comfortably adheres to standard LP limits. That said, the CD, containing over 76 minutes of the original material, is now sold at roughly the same price as other Elton John albums from the early seventies — so even though a slimmer, arguably better album could be achieved, what’s the point — given how effortless it is to replay favored tracks on a CD or to skip those not currently of interest.

Billy Cobham: Spectrum

Spectrum, Billy Cobham’s first album as a leader, released October, 1, 1973, is as impressive and important as any fusion album of 1973. The combination of Cobham and Jan Hammer dominate the album, and the supporting resources, particularly Tommy Bolin who is present on over half of the musical material, round out this excellent work. Album includes duets between Cobham and Hammer, Hammer soloing on acoustic piano on the beautiful ballad, “To the Woman but it is the longer tracks, and several lengthier tracks including the opening track, “Quadrant 4” full of energy and purpose, “Stratus” with remarkable bass work from Leland Sklar, and the fast-paced, electrically-charged title track, “Spectrum” with Joe Farrell on sax and flute, and Jimmy Owens on trumpet and flugelhorn.

Gryphon: Gryphon

Gryphon’s first album is a unique blend of folk and rock, incorporating both modern elements (guitar, bass, bassoon, trombone, drums) and earlier musical instrumentation (mandolin, recorder, crumhorn) into a successful set of songs. In late 1973, there were several folk rock groups, such as Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span, and Pentangle, but Gryphon, with two of the group members—Brian Gulland and Richard Harvey, both graduates of London’s Royal College of Music—distinguish themselves through a level of originality that transcends replicating traditional Celtic folk harmonies and melodies. Their occasional use of late 19th-century and 20th-century dissonance, not found in traditional English, Irish, Scottish, or Welsh music, coupled with their colorful and sometimes unconventional instrumentation, creates a new sound that effectively captures and maintains the listener’s attention. Later, the group would develop a more progressive-rock sound, but this first album is a fine one, deserving to be enjoyed and appreciated on its own terms.

Renaissance: Ashes are Burning

Renaissance’s fourth album, “Ashes are Burning,” was released on October 10, 1973. The album opens with full intensity, featuring the instrumental introduction of “Can You Understand?” This segues into the introspective acoustic main section, accompanied by some orchestration, showcasing Annie Haslam’s spellbinding vocals. The introductory material returns to conclude the piece. Such artistry and high-quality musical content are defining characteristics of this album, effectively blending classical, folk, and rock elements. The album concludes with the majestically crafted and musically uplifting “Ashes are Burning,” providing an emotionally captivating ending to a highly enjoyable album.

Herbie Hancock: Head Hunters

Released on October 26, 1973, and recorded the previous month, this landmark album signifies a conscious shift in direction for Mr. Hancock. It departs from his previous, more progressive and adventurous modal-based music, embracing a solidly tonal funky style of jazz. For this endeavor, he replaced all the members of his previous sextet except for himself and the talented Bennie Maupin on reeds. Remarkably, this jazz album achieved significant commercial success, foreshadowing George Benson’s stunning commercial breakthrough three years later.

The album starts off with “Chameleon,” featuring its initial foundation of two relentlessly repeated bass figures. However, the music is far from stagnant; it organically develops as it progresses, with the bass occasionally taking a secondary role but always remaining fundamental to the overall forward motion. The improvisation, while solidly jazz-based, aligns with a generally funky mood. Toward the end of “Chameleon,” we encounter sparkling chord changes reminiscent of a chameleon changing its exterior color, yet it retains its essential nature—similar to the music—concluding with a more static, funky ending. This is followed by an abstracted, funky rendition of Hancock’s classic, “Watermelon Man,” creatively presented to sound fresh, innovative, and slightly futuristic.

Side two starts with “Sly,” a vibrant homage to Sly Stone that includes some wild, abandoned, but clearly intricate interplay between Maupin’s sax and Hancock’s keyboards. This dynamic exchange offers all the excitement and vigor of the free jazz of the era, yet within a tonal, structured framework—making it accessible to a wide range of listeners. The album concludes with the reflective jazz tone poem, “Vein Melter,” seemingly representing the impact of heroin. The sense of time is significantly slowed by the floating, detached music, free from earthly worries or concerns. Notice the slow beat that initiates, persists, and concludes the track, possibly symbolizing the futility of the heroin experience. This second side, featuring “Sly” and “Vein Melter,” stands as one of the best single LP sides of any album from the 1970s.

Kraftwerk: Ralf und Florian

Released sometime in October1973, Ralf und Florian is the third studio album by the soon-to-be influential German electronic music pioneers, Kraftwerk. At this time there group is just the two former students of Düsseldorf’s Robert Schumann Conservatorium, Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider The album is influenced heavily by “classical” or conservatory/university ideas about electronic music, but it is clear that a more accessible element is added into their works. This is far from their pop-flavored, and very influential, fourth album, but it still holds a special place in the band’s discography, marking that important transitional phase between their early “experimental” electronic work and the groundbreaking sound they would later be known for. The most intriguing work on the colorfully diverse side one is the pattern-based “Kristallo.” The second side open with “Tanzmusik”, which comes the closest to the music of their next album, with its lighthearted texture, vocoder-enhanced vocals and relentless drive. The album concludes strongly with the longest track, the relatively accessible “Ananas Symphonie” (“Pineapples Symphony”) with the vocoder, this time, used to modulate their voices to sound detached and machine-like. Ironically, though, the piece also creates a relaxing, mediative soundscape reminiscent of a tropical island — pineapples and traces of seashore sounds included.

Caravan: For Girls That Grow Plump in the Night; Lou Reed: Berlin

With changes to their lineup, the loss of bassist Richard Sinclair and keyboardist Steve Miller and the addition of Richard’s cousin, Dave Sinclair on keyboards, and Geoff Richardson on viola, Caravan moves away from the more progressive, jazz-infused sound of their previous album, to a less progressive sound infused with some pop elements of the late sixties The highlight of this fifth studio album, released on October 5th, 1973, is the medley on the last track, “L’Auberge Du Sanglier / A Hunting We Shall Go / Pengola / Backwards / A Hunting We Shall Go – Reprise”, which includes strong guitar work from Pye Hastings, impressive electric viola and cello from Richardson and Paul Buckmaster, respectively, some sensitive acoustic piano from Dave Sinclair and a solid orchestral arrangement from John Bell and Martyn Ford.

Also, on October 5, 1973, Lou Reed releases his poignant concept album, Berlin. Though not as melodically memorable as his previous album, and with some musical content from earlier works recycled or redeployed, the album is still deserving of attention. The last track, in particular, provides an affecting and fitting conclusion to the work.

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Album review, Fifty Year Friday, Folk Rock, Funk, Fusion Jazz, Hard Rock, jazz, Jazz Rock, Music, Progressive Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: November 1972

STEELY DAN: CAN’T BUY A THRILL

Released in November of 1972, this is the first of Donald Fagen’s and Walter Becker’s string of excellent albums. The music ranges from pop to rock to folk-rock to jazz-based rock with engaging and intelligent chord progressions and a healthy use of minor seventh and ninth chords.

THE EDGAR WINTER GROUP: THEY ONLY COME OUT AT NIGHT

Skillfully produced by Rick Derringer, this is Edgar Winter’s most solid album with a number of songs that for the rest of 1972 and early into 1973 found a prominent place on AM radio, FM radio, at high school parties, or in the repertoire of high school dance bands. “Hangin’ Around”, “Free Ride”, “We All Had a Real Good Time” and the instrumental “Frankenstein” are hard rock classics that have effectively captured and preserved the spirit of early seventies hard rock, providing, today, an effortless means for us to travel back in time fifty years ago.

LOU REED: TRANSFORMER

Released on November 8, 1972, Lou Reed’s Transformer excels at creating a level of nonchalance and casualness that was more reminiscent of the beat movement of the 1950s than typical of an early 70’s rock album. Aided by David Bowie, Mick Ronson and Trever Bolder and elegantly produced by Bowie and Ronson, this album, along with the success of its glam, transexual and sometimes banned single, “Walk on the Wild Side”, brought Lou Reed out of the shadows of the Underground and into the commercial spotlight. The album is considered a classic by many and has had substantial influence on many Indie Rock artists that came later.

WAR: THE WORLD IS A GHETTO

War’s fifth studio album, released around November of 1972, opens with the once relentlessly-played AM single, “Cisco Kid”, which though annoying for those of us that heard it in spring of 1973 played through third-rate speakers of a school bus for multiple weeks almost every morning on our ride to school, was a welcome relief from the equally often-played, but far less bearable “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ol’ Oak Tree.” That said, now hearing “Cisco Kid” on a first-class audio set up almost fifty years later, the quality of performance and the arrangement almost make up for the melodic and harmonic mediocrity of the track. More importantly though, the rest of the album is quite good, starting with the infectious, funky “Where was You At” and the effervescent jazz-infused 13 1/2 minute “City Country City” instrumental on side one and the three tracks on side two including the soulfully reflective “Four Cornered Room”, and the beautifully funk-infused, “The World is a Ghetto.” This was not only War’s most commercially successful album, but the best selling album for the year 1973 holding the number one position for two weeks in February 1973 and staying on the Billboard 200 for a total of 68 weeks.

JONI MITCHELL: FOR THE ROSES

Released in November of 1972 between two of her most artistically and commercially successful albums, 1971’s Blue and 1974’s Spark and Court, the excellent For the Roses brims over with wonderful melodic phrases, remarkable piano lines, and beautiful acoustic guitar and an appropriate amount of harmonica, bass, percussion, winds and strings — always at the right places!

CAN: EGE BAMYASI

Can’s highly influential album, Ege Bamyasi, with the name apparently inspired from the label of a container of canned okra of Turkish origin also meant for German consumption of these “okra pods”, takes a detour from the previous no-holds-barred and even more influential Tago Mago, with an often more structured (via editing in some cases) and relatively more contained set of compositions. Not readily available in the US, I purchased this album in a German record store in 1978, and listened to it once before shelving it for several decades. It’s great to come back and revisit it and find there is much more here than I thought — and to discover the influence it has had on music since my original purchase, with Stephen Malkmus of Pavement, Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth, and the band Spoon all having been much more serious fans of the album and reaping music influences from it. Truly fortunate to revisit the album and able to enjoy it on a much better audio set up than I had in 1978.

Uriah Heep, Moody Blues, Carly Simon, Hawkwind, and Barclay James Harvest

Other notable albums from November 1972 include Uriah Heep’s semi-progressive Magician’s Birthday with a memorable Moog synthesizer solo from Ken Hensley on “Sweet Loraine” (reaching the 91st spot on the Billboard Hot 100) and a more expansive title track concluding the album, Hawkwind’s third studio album, Doremi Fasol Latido, stylistic different than their previous albums but still quality, engaging space-rock, Carly Simon’s No Secrets with two well-known tracks, the number one hit “You’re So Vain”, and less commercially successful but equally appealing “The Right Thing to Do”, the richly arranged, orchestrated Barclay James Harvest, Baby James Harvest, a mix of straight rock (“Thank You”) and more progressive tracks (“Summer Soldier”, “Moonwater”), and Moody Blues’ eighth album (last of the highly regarded string of seven classic album) which had two commercially successful singles, “Isn’t Life Strange” and “I’m Just a Singer (In a Rock and Roll Band)”, which spurred increased interest in their previous work resulting in the re-release of the beautifully haunting single version of the “The Night”, titled “Nights in White Satin”, which did much better the second time around, getting more attention and airplay than any of the music on the Seventh Sojourn album.

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Album review, Fifty Year Friday, Folk Rock, Fusion Jazz, Hard Rock, Jazz Rock, Music, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: October 1972

Genesis: Foxtrot

From the opening set of the choral-like, other-worldly, mellotron-intro of carefully constructed chords — initially over a “pedal-point” (a sustained bass note), followed by a short set of chromatic modulations, the tone of this epic classic album is established and sustained through out the next magnificent fifty minutes of one of the most appealing rock albums of the last sixty years.

The music is epic, dramatically supporting some pretty impressive lyrics, with the first track, “Watcher of The Skies”, a sci-fi narrative from an alien visitor’s somber, almost jaded, perspective regarding the remnants of a vanished earth civilization, followed by the more lyrically but equally potent and allegorical “Time Table”. “Get “Him Em Out By Friday” also time travels, from 1972 to 2012, and effectively mixes upbeat rhythms and shifting meters into moments of Dickensian commentary, starting with shifts between 6/4 and 4/4, with a heavily triplet-based 4/4 section into a more reflective, slower 6/4 section with some the return of a modified original A section with some 7/4 bars and an appropriately reflective coda. This is followed by another epic track, the amazing “Can-Utility and the Coastliners” with an acoustic guitar and flute opening section and its sense of substantial narrative, proportion, and consequence far exceeding its limited five minute and forty-five seconds of actually clock time. Of particularly musical note is Tony Bank’s mixed-meter keyboard solo, perhaps either celebrating the use of the name he had initially suggested for the band (Can-Utility and the Coastliners, a name Peter Gabriel reportedly summarily rejected, understandably), or letting off a little steam for the band, instead, being ultimately named “Genesis.” Seriously, though, this composition a true work of art, anticipating both Banks’ “Firth of Fifth” on Selling England by the Pound and his “One for the Vine” on Wind and Wuthering.

Side two opens with Steve Hackett’s elegantly simple guitar solo, followed by the masterpiece of the Genesis catalogue, the twenty-three minute “Supper’s Ready.” Though its seven-section make-up indicates a piecing together of individual songs into a common thematical framework, the overall effect is that of a single cohesive work, much in the way that the second side of the Beatles Abbey Road works together, except that “Supper’s Ready” is more integrated and reuses material to create an effective sonata-like form. Though too difficult, and hopefully totally unnecessary, to pick one single composition to make the case that classical music was an unbroken continuum to the present that included the best works of the best rock bands, this work has to be considered as deserving top consideration for making that case.

Miles Davis: On the Corner

Eschewing and yet incorporating contemporaneous offerings in jazz, jazz fusion, rock, progressive rock, minimalism, and funk, Miles creates yet another landmark album with On The Corners as representative of the spiritual-industrial meld of the early 1970s as anything yet released or yet to come. Few critics even began to know what to make of the work, and the record-buying public, which had sent Miles’ previous album up to the 7th spot, were mostly absent at the cash registers, with On the Corner peaking at 156.

The album, though foundationally based on the familiar musical components of its time, was yet so alien to many when it came out on October 11, 1972, primarily due to the resulting originality of the approach. Overall, Miles and team took on the same type of challenges that were tackled by such German progressive rock groups such as Can, but due to significantly better musicianship and a more focused vision, created a superior and eventually more influential product.

Henry Franklin: The Skipper

One of the lesser known albums of 1972 by one of the lesser known artists on one of the lesser known record labels, bassist Henry Franklin’s debut album, The Skipper, is well worth any effort to hunt down, with such ultimate acquisition being readily achievable due to the reissuing of the Black Jazz record catalog by Real Gone Music. Thank-you, Real Gone Music!

Franklin’s plays both acoustic and electric bass, writing most of the music on the album, with Bill Henderson on electric piano contributing one of his own compositions joined by Charles Owens on soprano and tenor sax and Oscar Brashear both of which provide the vital contributions that make this album a neglected classic.

Doug Carn: Spirit of the New Land

This is the second of four albums that Doug Carn released on the Black Jazz record label. Accessible and topical, this jazz concept album brims with amazing work from both keyboardist Doug Carn, Charles Tolliver on flugelhorn, reed player George Harper and Carn’s wife, Jean Carn, on vocals with notable contributions from Earl McIntrye on tuba and Garnett Brown on trombone.

The Awakening: Hear, Sense and Feel

The Awakening released their first album on the Black Jazz label, providing an excellent set of jazz-rock/jazz-fusion instrumentals bookended by a brief introductory recitation and final poetic coda. The music is slightly reminiscent of some of the Chicago’s instrumental passages from their first two albums with a hint of early 1970’s McCoy Tyner. Of particular note is the keyboardist, Ken Chaney, who composes the opening instrumental following his wife’s opening introduction. In general quite good, with “Jupiter” being a particularly strong track. For those that like no-nonsense early 70s jazz and jazz-rock, this is worth the effort of tracking down. Available from Real Gone Music as are all the Black Jazz late sixties and early seventies catalog.

Keith Jarrett: Expectations

Taking his core quartet that included Dewey Redman (now known as the “American Quartet”) (Jarrett, saxophonist Dewey Redman, bassist Charlie Haden, and drummer Paul Motian), Jarret adds Sam Brown on guitar and Airto Moreira on percussion and drums, along with some strings and brass arrangements to create a ambitious, relatively eclectic two record set that unfortunately for Columbia records, was the last one under that label, simply due to Columbia suddenly dropping Jarrett during the its sweeping commercially-driven jazz purge, something that appears to be one of those historic money-driven record label decisions that ended up being a fiscal mistake.

The album is a bit uneven with Jarrett basically redefining “free jazz” to mean “freedom in playing a range of styles” but the overall final result is a strong album with side four being the best.

Santana: Caravanserai

Released on October 11, 1972, Caravanserai was quickly embraced by the same audience inescapably attracted to progressive rock as well as enthusiastically embraced by a substantial number of fusion fans. Though nowhere as commercially successful as the previous two albums (the president of Columbia Records after hearing the tapes for Caravanserai, told Santana he was committing “career suicide”), the album is an artistic gem, a work that can be listened to repeatedly with various spectra of pleasure.

Stevie Wonder: Talking Book

Released on October 27, 1972, Mr. Wonder exceeds the level of professionalism, artistry, creativity on the previous album, displaying flawless judgement and execution as composer, musician and producer. Artistically, the albums opens strong with the timeless love song, “You are the Sunshine of My Life” followed by a strong first side and then an even stronger second side made up of five classic tracks that starts with “Superstition”, followed by “Big Brother”, the subtly impressionistic “Blame It on the Sun”, the Latin-jazz-influenced “Lookin’ for Another Pure Love”, and then perfectly concluded with my favorite work on the album, “I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)”.

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Fifty Year Friday, Free Jazz, Fusion Jazz, jazz, Jazz Rock, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: August 1972

Annette Peacock: I’m the One

Missed mentioning this earlier this year, but better late than never! Released around January 1972, this incredible album combines jazz, pop and rock elements in an invigorating blend with effective use of synthesizers. Annette’s vocals may have influenced David Bowie’s vocal approach starting with Ziggy Stardust. This is one of the great albums of 1972!

McCoy Tyner: Sahara

Also missed this fine album last month! Recorded in January 1972, and released around July 1972, the album covers fusion-like territory but with all acoustic instruments. Tyner is a tsunami on piano and the first track is one of the finest of 1972. This first track then is followed by a mesmerizing, technically incredible piano solo and an adventurous, sometimes sizzling, sometimes reflective Japanese-flavored work where Tyner exchanges keyboards for koto, Sonny Fortune exchanges saxophone for flute, and bassist Calvin Hill appears to play an eastern flute-like instrument. The next track, “Rebirth”, explodes with a drum solo and then Tyner’s steamrolling piano taking no prisoners, with Fortune unleashing a blistering, often high-register alto sax solo — incredible execution nearly beyond belief. Side Two is taken up with the title track, Sahara, not my favorite of the album, perhaps because of some shrillness from the eastern reed instruments, yet it attempts to encompass epic scope and has some incredible passages.

Julius Hemphill: Dogon A.D.

Named after the Dogon in West Africa, recorded in St. Louis in February 1972 and released in limited quantities on Julian Hemphill’s own Mbari label and later made more widely available, this was Hemphill’s first commercial recording. Though labelled as “three lengthy avant-garde explorations” the music is structured and accessible with musical influences from the African continent.

The Kinks: Everybody’s in Show-biz

This two LP set includes studio material from spring of 1972 on the first two sides and live material from Carnegie Hall recorded on March 2nd and 3rd. Ray Davies continues his deviation from standard rock with strong influence from the Neo-music-hall material of twentieth-century London. The first LP loosely addresses the concept of show-biz fame and touring with the upbeat “Here Comes Yet Another Day” energetically opening up side one. The album closes with “Celluloid Heroes” (which got significant airplay on FM radio) with Ray Davies’ thoughtful and well-crafted lyrics providing a wistful close to that first LP.

Gil Scott-Heron: Free Will

Though not as strong as Gil Scott Heron’s previous (second) album, this album has more historical importance. His first album (recorded in a studio with a live audience) is sometimes referred to as proto-rap, but more accurately it is emotive, fairly well-written poetry read to sparse musical accompaniment, not so different than beat-era poetry readings, with some differences in rhythmic elements as well as subject matter and vocabulary. It is the second side of this third album, Free Will, that more clearly anticipates rap music with Heron providing better rehearsed and more effective, more rhythmically-enhanced delivery of his poetry. For stronger music, refer to his second album, Pieces of a Man, but if the object of exploring is to hunt for what may be the first traces of rap on LP, start here.

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Album review, Fifty Year Friday, Free Jazz, Fusion Jazz, jazz, Jazz Rock, Rock

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