THE CAKE: A SLICE OF CAKE (1968)
1) Have You Heard The News
'Bout Miss Molly; 2) P. T. 280; 3) Sadie; 4) Tides Of Love; 5) Walkin' The Dog
/ Something's Got A Hold On Me / Big Boy Pete; 6) Extroverted Introvert; 7)
Under The Tree Of Love And Laughter; 8) Annabelle Clarke; 9) Who Will Wear The
Crown; 10) Island Of Plenty.
Cake's second and last album was even shorter
than the first — just ten tracks, clocking in at around 26 minutes — but it
also was a big step forward for the group, and certainly makes you wonder what
the future could have in store for them if the record had at least a little bit
of commercial success. Here, the seeds that were sown with the three-song
«medieval suite» of The Cake
optimistically spring up with a whole series of such compositions, as the
ladies write more than half of the songs on their own and significantly cut
down on the Phil Spector / Motown aspects of the debut — and the results are
almost surprisingly astonishing. (I write almost,
because in this age we seem to be finally accustomed to the idea that women
even in the Sixties could be accomplished songwriters; the element of surprise
rather concerns Decca executives, all of them probably male, who allowed Jacobs, Morillo, and Barooshian
to record and release their own stuff. Now that's
thinking progressively!).
Baroque, psychedelic, and even Kinks-style
Brit-pop influences are all over this platter, as the girls weave a fully
credible, if not tremendously original, musical tapestry of isolation, melancholia,
and claustrophobic amorousness. Like many other artists at the time, they often
prefer the detached role of a Greek chorus onlooker — even the song titles,
preferring to refer to ʽMiss Mollyʼ and ʽAnnabelle Clarkeʼ rather than ʽIʼ,
indicate that, and it gives the songs an aura of extra depth and wisdom; more
importantly, they are simply fine songs. ʽMiss Mollyʼ, woven out of acoustic
guitars, harpsichords, clarinets, chamber strings, and intricate relations
between lead and backing vocals, goes through several tempo shifts and several
personal stories — all it lacks is a particularly heart-tugging hook, but even
in the absence of that the whole thing just oozes class and distinction on a
general level. ʽAnnabelle Clarkeʼ, on the other hand, is a little less
interesting in terms of atmosphere, but goes for that hook with gusto —
"Annabelle Clarke has learned to live life better" cuts across almost
as sharp as "what a drag it is getting old" or "he's a dedicated
follower of fashion".
Probably the most unusual tune of them all is
ʽExtroverted Introvertʼ, preserving the group harmony principle but also
multiplying it with a wild samba beat, baroque string flourishes, and a poppy vocal melody at the same
time — a crazyass combination that somehow works, creating an atmosphere of
amicable madness and, for that matter, fully corresponding with its musical
weirdness to the paradox expressed in the title. But that is not to undermine
the coolness of the nearly accappella ʽUnder The Tree Of Love And Laughterʼ, a
tune that sounds far more grim and depressing than the title suggests; or the
psychedelic swoop of ʽP. T. 280ʼ, switching between tight rhythmic pop and
atmospheric folk sections and throwing every instrument they could lay their
hand on in the studio into the mix; or ʽIsland Of Plentyʼ, ending the record on
a touchingly optimistic note that can probably be traced all the way back to
oldies like ʽBig Rock Candy Mountainʼ, only here its burly country roots are
all overgrown with psycho-baroque weeds.
Even the few R&B leftovers are fun — the
big medley in the middle is, for some reason, introduced with a few
out-of-tune bars of ʽThe Wedding Marchʼ, and then they tie three different
tunes to the same rhythmic pattern, as if subtly mocking the genre that got
them started; and Dr. John's ʽWho Will Wear The Crownʼ is a good energy ball to
explode in the middle of all that baroque mopeyness, just as it begins getting
a bit too mopey-ish. This is precisely the kind of proportion that was needed on
the first album — except it was reversed there, downplaying the girls'
strengths in favor of their ordinariness. A
Slice Of Cake, on the other hand, does it precisely right, and ends up as a
charming way to spend 26 minutes of your Sixties-lovin' time, and a good reason
for an enthusiastic thumbs up. Sure, it wasn't that big a crime to
have it overlooked in mid-1968, when masterpieces sprung out of nowhere on an
almost daily basis — but in our modern era of «anything goes», it certainly
makes more sense to dig it out, dust it off, and give it a fair reappraisal
rather than go on a hunt for those present day artists who try to make it sound
like 1968 all over again without having a clue of what it was actually like in
1968.
Alas, once the record was done, the girls
pretty immediately vanished into total obscurity — for a little while more,
their heads still occasionally bobbed above the water, either backing up Dr.
John on his tours or even working, of all people, with Ginger Baker's Air Force
(hey, I told you they were special, didn't I?), but, unfortunately, the lack of
recognition just ended up killing off any songwriting ambitions that Jacobs,
Morello, and Barooshian may have had. Too bad — with a little more perseverance
and a little luck, they could have had quite a progressive future waiting for
them, but I guess you can't have your Cake and eat it too. (Sorry, couldn't
resist).
Great reviews George. You should check out the other band Cake, without the "the." In case you didn't know, they are a great little '90's alternative pop band from my hometown of Sacramento, California. Their biggest hit was "The Distance." One of my favorite bands. I always thought you would like them.
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