ARTHUR BROWN: TANTRIC LOVER (2000)
1) Paradise; 2) Tantric Lover;
3) The Bridge; 4) Circle Dance; 5) Swimfish; 6) Voice Of Love From A Magic Hat;
7) Gabriel; 8) Love Is The Spirit; 9) Heartaches From The Music Theatre Piece
ʽAirʼ; 10) All The Bells; 11) Healing Sound; 12) Welcome.
If you have nothing better to do these days,
hunt down Mr. Arthur Brown in one of his asylums and ask him the question: «Mr.
Brown! How come Tantric Lover, your
first recording of original music in the 21st century, is credited to ʽThe
Crazy World Of Arthur Brownʼ, even though that band was officially proclaimed
dead thirty years ago, and you are the only remaining member?» Wait for the
answer, and if it is anything like «why, man, many an Arthur Brown has roamed
through this world, but there has been only one Crazy World of Arthur Brown so
far, and maybe some people will be careless enough to mistake my new album for
the old one — and I do need the
money, I'm all out of fuel for my helmet», feel free to add +100 to Mr. Brown's
artistic karma. However, if it is anything like «well, see here, man, we just
had all these groovy cats to jam with, and I thought, it's like the spirit of
the old Crazy World was coming back, and I know we're all crazy but some are
crazier than most...», please do the reverse.
Because, clearly, Tantric Lover does not sound anything like the old «Crazy World».
And not only does it not try to sound like Crazy World, on the contrary, it
does everything in its power to present Arthur in an entirely new light. For
one thing, it is completely acoustic, with elements of world music represented
by the extensive use of the kora (a West African harp) and the didgeridoo, an
Australian woodwind (and Arthur has a separate band member for each, although
«Phil Brown» does not sound much like a good name for an Australian aborigine,
if you ask me). For another thing... it is not all that crazy, to tell the
truth.
What it is is simply a good album of inventive art-pop compositions in a range of styles
and moods. Some R&B, some reggae, some folk, some blues-rock, a little of
this, a little of that, all of it sort of connected with thin psychedelic vibes
and a general peace-and-love sentiment. Very
well recorded at that — praise the 21st century for something, at least — and the quiet acoustic arrangements allow
Brown's voice to come through bright and expressive; actually, I think this is
the first time ever that he gives it to us from so many different angles.
Crooning, pleading, whispering, muttering, screaming, talking, goofing off,
it's all here. You might hate the songs and the spirit, but the man couldn't
care less — he must have had so much fun doing this.
Since this is still «rock theater», or, rather
«unplugged theater» this time, Tantric
Lover gets by on the strength of its humor and eccentricity, not on any
kind of cathartic vibes — and its quiet, low-key nature will never allow us to
recognize it as a lost masterpiece on the same level with Requiem. But, on the other hand, it also lacks those of Brown's
trademarks that are the most prone to becoming annoying — the reckless,
«anything-goes» experimentation, the permanent tone and signature shifts of
Kingdom Come, even the general «look at me, have you ever seen anyone crazier?»
attitude. And the kora / didgeridoo duets may be a novelty trick, but in our modern
potpourri of ethnic traditions, it can hardly look as surprising as, say, the
drum machines on Kingdom Come's third album, or even Arthur's decision to take
a red-hot synthesizer bath on Speak No
Tech.
No, this is just a «nice little album» here.
And the songs are surprisingly well written and performed. ʽParadiseʼ steals
the opening riff from the Beatles' ʽI'll Be Backʼ and puts it back where it
came from — into a Latin setting, that is — and works out a half-menacing,
half-magical mood punctuated by occasional flourishes from the kora. ʽCircle
Danceʼ is a catchy art-pop / blues-rock hybrid, irresistible when it comes to
toe-tapping, tasteful when it comes to little bits of out-of-nowhere electric
guitar soloing (yes, we can!), and
goofy when Arthur begins to yodel (yodeling is bad, but Arthur is good).
ʽSwimfishʼ is set to a Celtic waltz; ʽGabrielʼ (no relation to the ʽGabrielʼ
of Requiem) is slightly funky, spits
out broken bits of slide guitar, and has Arthur doing his best Horned King
impression (or was that Horny King?).
He even delivers a convincing musical aria on ʽHeartachesʼ — with a fairly
complex vocal part to be sung by a 60-year old.
This is definitely not ʽThe Crazy World Of
Arthur Brownʼ — more like ʽThe Cozy World Of Arthur Brownʼ if you ask me. But first,
he is wrong who would assert that Arthur Brown has no right to have himself a cozy world at this time in his life. And
second, the more I listen to it, the more unsure I am about which one of the
two worlds I like more. Of course, in 1969, Crazy World was on the cutting edge, whereas Tantric Lover did not make as much as the tiniest ripple when it
appeared, and remains steadily confined to Arthur's microscopic hardcore fan
base. But, just like Requiem, it is
an album that could have a greater
appeal — it is ten times as authentic, memorable, and pleasant as the majority
of indie favorites from the same year. Yes, the title and the album cover are a
bit stupid — they could make you suspect that an old dirty has-been is lurking
inside — but do not let it get you off the track: Tantric Lover deserves its thumbs up full well, and I'd personally nominate
at least ʽCircle Danceʼ for the average 2000s playlist (particularly if this
would mean kicking out one more Bright Eyes tune from said playlist).
Check "Tantric Lover" (MP3) on Amazon
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