ALAN PRICE: METROPOLITAN MAN (1975)
1) Papers; 2) Fools Gold; 3)
Nobody Can; 4) A Little Inch; 5) Changing Partners; 6) Mama Divine; 7) Too Many
People; 8) Keep On Rollin'; 9) It's Not Easy; 10) Sweet P; 11) The Drinker's
Curse.
The relative success of Between Today & Yesterday made Alan invest in an attempt to
repeat the same approach, but on a slightly humbler scale — this, too, is
largely a conceptual, and this time an even more personal album about the past
and the present, but lacking the elements of grandeur that may have appealed to
the «progressively trained» buyers in 1974. Actually, it is this low-key
attitude that may explain why its predecessor sold reasonably well, whereas Metropolitan Man seems to have bombed,
and even in retrospect remains totally obscure (not even a measly review at the
All-Music Guide!) When in reality it is every bit as good as its predecessor
and maybe even better — at least in terms of consistency.
The fact that there are no grand, stately
compositions here in the vein of ʽJarrow Songʼ or ʽBetween Today And
Yesterdayʼ might even be positive, because Mr. Price, with his passion for
homely pubs, quiet provincial life, and cozy vaudeville, is far from your
poster boy for Grand Statements — he has neither the compositional nor the
vocal talent for that. But he'd honed his compositional and vocal talents well
enough to ensure that Metropolitan Man
has not a single bad, or, more precisely, not a single unattractive song on it.
It's a wonderful combination of diverse melodies, stretching across several
distinct genres, tasteful arrangements, clever lyrics, and a rainbow of joyful
sadness and optimistic melancholy that arches all the way from Tyneside to Randy
Newman's Brooklyn.
Song-by-song, it might easily be his single
best set. Even if the man never succeeded in inventing his own sub-genre or
anything, here he excels at practically every genre. On the dynamic side,
ʽPapersʼ is a brilliantly multi-layered power-pop piece, with an ecstatic slide
guitar lead part ruling over a bedrock of pianos, synthesizers, and brass as
the man himself launches into a biting condemnation of the yellow press;
ʽNobody Canʼ is somewhat of a musical and
lyrical answer to Elton's ʽCrocodile Rockʼ, every bit as catchy as the latter
but not as superficially corny; and ʽChanging Partnersʼ is a hilariously loving
parody on Fifties' rock'n'roll, with Alan going all Jerry Lee Lewis on the
piano, mock-stadium applause mixed in for «authenticity», and the guitar man
going expectedly batshit crazy on the solo.
Things are subtler and much more moving on the
ballad side — ʽFool's Goldʼ, at the least, should have been a classic, with a
really choking chord change introduced in the long solo organ intro and then
reprised in the vocal melody; this is, once again, Price taking a lesson from
the sad side of Paul McCartney and Badfinger, and matching it to his own
memories and experiences accumulated during his musical career. For ʽA Little
Inchʼ, his lead guitarist, whoever he is, borrows the «weeping slide» style of
George Harrison and uses it admirably in combination with Alan's own weepy tale
of an unsuccessful love affair. Even the orchestrated schmaltz-pop of ʽIt's Not
Easyʼ creeps under your skin, by means of Price's weak, gently trembling voice.
In addition to all that, you get a fun calypso
romp with a supercatchy chorus (ʽMama Divineʼ), a tight, slightly Exile On Main Street-ish R&B/gospel
groove riding a cooler-than-hell bassline (ʽToo Many Peopleʼ), a dark New
Orleanian blues shuffle with swampy harmonica (ʽKeep On Rollin'ʼ), a 100% Randy
Newman rip-off that should by all means be reserved for some future Pixar movie
(ʽSweet Pʼ), and a plaintive «me and my piano» coda that should, of course, be
played by the pianist late at night when the only clients left at the bar are
those unable to leave the place on all fours (ʽThe Drinker's Curseʼ).
Lascivious, spiritual, ominous, empathetic, depressed but unyielding — there's
your emotional variety contained in this little bunch alone, and there's more:
the album brings a whole new dimension to the understanding of what it is to be
a true «metropolitan man».
Why this whole thing is not considered a
timeless classic is understandable — a low-key personality like Price, without
a lot of brazenly original ideas, is not going to attract a lot of attention.
Why the album is so completely neglected is a different question — even though
it has been released on CD, I don't exactly see lost treasure hunters flocking
towards it in sufficient numbers. In such situations, even a measly, but strong
thumbs up
on a «maverick review blog» can be of a little help, and we here at Only Solitaire
are happy to provide, particularly since most of us, I'm sure, will find an
easy way to relate to at least parts of this record.
Just listening to this album.. a lost little gem! Very human, very musical, very good!!
ReplyDeleteOne of Alan's best. And I agree that Sweet P NEEDS to be used in a movie.
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