Billie Holiday: Billie Holiday

BILLIE HOLIDAY: BILLIE HOLIDAY (1954)

1) Love For Sale; 2) Moonglow; 3) Everything I Have Is Yours; 4) If The Moon Turns Green; 5) Autumn In New York; 6) How Deep Is The Ocean; 7) What A Little Moonlight Can Do; 8) I Cried For You.

This unconspicuously titled album from 1954 is mainly notable for containing tracks from two recording sessions that were quite distant chronologically. The first five songs were recorded in April 1952 (the same one that yielded much of the material for An Evening); the last three — ex­actly two years later. The backing band is very much the same: Oscar Peterson mans the piano in both cases, Ray Brown is on bass and Charlie Shavers on trumpet. (Herb Ellis replaces Barney Kessel on guitar, but neither is particularly noticeable).

What is, however, unmistakably different is Billie herself. The 1952 sessions have already been talked about before; here, of particular note is the exquisite lonesome-melancholic rendition of 'Autumn In New York' (comparing this to the syrupy lounge version of Sarah Vaughan, among others, reveals the utter triumph of simple intelligence and humane vulnerability over gloss and operatic technique), al­though, as usual, all the other performances are first-rate as well.

The last three songs, however, feature Billie's voice in the initial phases of decline – losing some of her frequencies (never all that abundant to begin with) and beginning to acquire that unmista­kable «old lady rasp» that she managed to be saddled with without actually turning into an old la­dy, due to substance abuse. It is only the beginning, though; here, the main effect is simply that the singing gets lower and «deeper». It is unclear if they put Shavers' trumpet on top of every­thing in order to «mask» that weakness — probably just a coincidence. But that's how it is.

In any case, the fast, playful versions of 'What A Little Moonlight Can Do' and 'I Cried For You' are still excellent, and the album as a whole has no lowlights, despite the incoherence of its two parts. Recommendable, if only for the beautiful 'Autumn In New York'.

The Black Keys: Attack & Release

THE BLACK KEYS: ATTACK & RELEASE (2008)

1) All You Ever Wanted; 2) I Got Mine; 3) Strange Times; 4) Psychotic Girl; 5) Lies; 6) Remember When (Side A); 7) Remember When (Side B); 8) Same Old Thing; 9) So He Won't Break; 10) Oceans & Streams; 11) Things Ain't Like They Used To Be.

Time machine detected: I gave Magic Potion a «thumbs down» in 2011, and the band admittedly reacted to it in 2008. Could it be that someone else gave it a thumbs down, too?.. Because with The Black Keys' fifth major original LP, comes the biggest change in sound these guys ever al­lowed themselves; in fact, the change is so huge that it almost threatens to undermine the band's very reasons for existence.

For starters, the album was recorded in a proper studio this time, instead of barns, garages, aban­doned silver mines, and the central sewer system of Shitsville, USA. Next, there is an outside pro­ducer: Danger Mouse, a.k.a. B. J. Burton, formerly known for inventive rap-rock remixes and producing the Gorillaz and Beck — not even close to anything associable with Dan Auerbach. There is also an outside extra musician — guitar player extraordinaire Marc Ribot, whom most people probably know for his Tom Waits collaborations, but who is actually a huge individuality in his own right. Finally, for the first time ever, the songs lose their stern minimalism: in addition to guitar and drums, there are banjos, organs, chimes, flutes (!), backing vocals, whatever. Even the guitar sound is more diverse — there is plenty of acoustic playing here, and several different electric tones as opposed to the monotonous distorted garage growl of yesterday.

How does it work? For the moment — it works fine, and was probably the rightest thing to do. Despite cleaner production and instrumental diversity, the subtle sloppiness and rawness are still there, as are Auerbach's songwriting instincts. But now he also has the chance to allow to judge these songs based on more than one criterion (lack/presence of an awesome riff). Some of the songs, in fact, are not riff-based at all, e. g. 'So He Won't Break' — a moody combination of blues rhythms, Ribot's «broken» chord sequences, psychedelic chimes, and psychotic nasal vocals from Danny, instead of the usual roar. Did I say «psychotic»? There's a song called 'Psychotic Girl' here, whose odd vibe would be more suitable for the Pixies rather than the Keys. That's how far they are willing to go this time in order to remodel their face.

It is hard to complain, either, when the melodies are so good. On the hard-rocking tunes, Auer­bach regains the ability to strike out those awesome riffs — or perhaps they just sound awesome in contrast to the «softer» tunes this time — the melody of 'Strange Times', for instance, borrows a few chords from Sabbath's 'Sweet Leaf', incorporating them into a faster, sweatier garage riff, to very good effect. 'Same Old Thing' (nothing to do with several classic blues tunes with the same name) is built on a very atmospheric guitar pattewrn, unfortunately, stuffed a bit too deep into the background — making the song less effective and memorable than it could be. Fortunately, the Tull-like flute embellishments will help it register in the mind.

Overall, the record is hardly a masterpiece, for the same old reasons — you'd have to be the ge­nius to shame all genii, to put out a «masterpiece» based on reshuffling the good old blues-rock / garage-rock chord stock as late as 2008 — but, for Auerbach and his drummer pal, it opens the road to survival and development. Purists may feel betrayed, yet I think that their schtick can work even with flutes and banjos — thumbs up.

It is hardly a coincidence that the closing num­ber, a duet between Danny and minimalist country girl Jessica Lea Mayfield, is called 'Things Ain't Like They Used To Be'. In fact, it is a blatant anthemic statement — so straightforward that it ain't even all that fun. But, like almost everything else on here, the song still manages to be touching and softly inspiring. Who cares if it hangs on just one melodic vocal line? It is still the real thing.

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Arch Enemy: Burning Bridges

ARCH ENEMY: BURNING BRIDGES (1999)

1) The Immortal; 2) Dead Inside; 3) Pilgrim; 4) Silverwing; 5) Demonic Science; 6) Seed Of Hate; 7) Angelclaw; 8) Burning Bridges; 9) Diva Satanica; 10) Hydra.

The final album with Liiva on vocals – surprisingly, this is the turning point where Arch Enemy becomes an unstoppable machine for the production of some of the catchiest musical brutality ever offered to human ears. Substance-wise, there is no big difference from Stigmata; the differ­ence is in the details — the riffs become more complex, more interesting, and there's, like, two or three of them within the average song on Burning Bridges.

Since I am quite far removed from a metalhead, it took me several listens to «get» the greatness of this stuff. You still have to ignore the vocals (Liiva can hardly even «growl» on here at all; most of the time, the «singing» just degenerates into tuneless hardcore screeching), and get used to the fact that these guys are not going to lead you astray by arranging a meeting with the spirits of Art, Depth, and Intellectual Relevance. But in the end, most of these tunes are artsy, deep, and even «intellectually relevant» in their own crazy way.

The best thing about Bridges is the absolute lack of slack. Seven out of eight songs originally in­cluded on the album push forward at either simply fast, or ultra-fast tempos; only the title track ends the record on a «monstruously slow» note, with a long «operatic» coda that is its only direct nod to classical influences — the album ends on nothing less than a piano-and-Mellotron (!) dri­ven passage which is, I guess, supposed to hint at the existence (somewhere really far away) of Paradise, in addition to the all-pervading Hell. (For the record, the keyboards are played by guest musician Per Wiberg, who would go on to play with the band on their next albums, as well as spend six years with Opeth as full-time member).

But, like I said, that is a tiny exception. As for the loud, fast, riff-heavy rockers, it is useless to discuss them individually. After a while, the individuality of the tracks does begin to step out of the general din, and I would say that the best riffs are on 'Seed Of Hate' (I like the Entwistl-ian «gurgling» descending bass/guitar runs competing with the lead riff), 'The Immortal' (still plenty of thrash influence, but even the trash riffs are easily discernible note-for-note here), and 'Silver­wing' (that opening riff must have been ripped off some classical piece) — and you could say that these are the worst riffs, and pick 'Pilgrim' or 'Angelclaw' instead, and I wouldn't give a damn.

Simply put, it's a kick-ass metalfest all the way, and that's the way it should be — if you are intent on maintaining one very limited style over fourty minutes, you might as well grind it up to the max; and I am always ready to take off my hat before anyone who is able to grind it up to the max, regardless of mood, attitude, or genre. From that point of view, Burning Bridges is a flaw­less masterpiece of «melodic death-thrash-metal». From other points of view, it may be samey, boring, and lyrically / substantially idiotic. But, as it just happens, these are not included in my thumbs up.

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Asia: Asia

ASIA: ASIA (1982)

1) Heat Of The Moment; 2) Only Time Will Tell; 3) Sole Survivor; 4) One Step Closer; 5) Time Again; 6) Wildest Dreams; 7) Without You; 8) Cutting It Fine; 9) Here Comes The Feeling.

In the big book of rock music, Asia (and its follow-up, Alpha, recorded with the same lineup) must hold the re­cord spot for «Largest Amount of Wasted Talent Ever Assembled in One Spot». It took all the expertise of Family/King Crimson bassist/vocalist John Wetton, Yes guitar wiz Steve Howe, ELP drum giant Carl Palmer, and Geoff "Video Killed The Radio Star" Downes —to release the «arena pop» album to end all «arena pop» albums, and, in the process, to serve as a textbook illustration of so many things that were wrong with the Eighties.

Let me be heard here: I would actually love to try and see Asia re-recorded, or, at least, re-mixed from the original tapes with new overdubs. There are some genuinely strong pop melodies here. There is an atmosphere of starry-eyed idealism carried over from the Yes/ELP camp, as if the spirits of Greg Lake and Jon Anderson were silently watching over the studio. There are some really nifty guitar parts: Howe is always Howe, no matter which crazy project he is getting draf­ted into. It's just that, in the end, everything is ruined by the «heat of the moment» — namely, the commercial requirements of the time.

In a different age, under different stage lights, these people might have come together to record a new Close To The Edge, sharpened by a touch of Red and tempered with a dip of Brain Salad Surgery. But "now you find yourself in '82", according to what the album opener tells us, and the next two lines load and display the program: "The disco hot spots hold no charm for you / You can concern yourself with bigger things". See? How do you justify the fact that you have just gone from playing in the intellectual-est prog bands of the last decade to churning out generic are­na-pop? Simple — just put yourself in the position of «educating the masses». Yesterday, they were all grooving along to 'Jive Talking'; today, prog masters are leading them on into bigger and better things. It's The Three Tenors!!!

Yet I have to admit — for some reason, I really like this record. Every once in a while, it plunges into the unbearable, like the power ballad 'Without You' (a disgrace to the respectable name of the other power ballad 'Without You' — the Badfinger one); but for the most part, it is catchy, not always trivial, highly melodic stuff whose main deficiency lies in the arrangements. Chief cul­prit is Downes, playing lifeless, predictable string-imitating Eighties keyboards. Minor culprit is Carl Palmer, not so much for the unnecessary electronic enhancement of his drums as for not really justifying his presence on the songs — most of these parts could have been performed by anyone. The lyrics are better left alone, to avoid getting burned by their mock-Byronesque seriousness. Other than that — Asia rules (on all of the rather small territory that remains).

My personal favorites include 'Only Time Will Tell', mainly for the excellent in-between verse breaks, punctuated by a screeching guitar part from Howe (also, imagine how much better those synth fan­fares would have sounded if played by real brass); and the first part of 'Cutting It Fine', with Wetton's vocals and Howe's guitar locking their jaws in a slightly more aggressive bite than usual. The big, anthemic hit single 'Heat Of The Moment' needs to be mentioned, but it is way too radio-oriented to remain in memory as a major highlight. Suffice it to say that the generic pop-me­tal guitar tone, so popular with the arena-rock of the times, appears on Asia in all of its ste­roid-based muscular form only on 'Heat Of The Moment'. The rest of the songs are usually rhyth­mically driven by the keyboards, whereas Howe's guitar is reserved for gentle melodic soloing (and that soloing is well worth tracking out and following throughout the album).

It is, I think, predictable, that four guys like that could not have created an utterly worthless al­bum. They tried their best, to be sure, but, in the end, Asia still emerges as a «survivor» — a re­cord hopelessly chained to its rather tasteless epoch, but with enough merits to compensate for the tastelessness. Put it on for your kid if you want to teach him what the «overground» used to be like in 1982. At least it beats Kim Wilde. Thumbs up, if that helps.

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Atomic Rooster: Made In England

ATOMIC ROOSTER: MADE IN ENGLAND (1972)

1) Time Take My Life; 2) Stand By Me; 3) Little Bit Of Inner Air; 4) Don't Know What Went Wrong; 5) Never To Lose; 6) Introduction; 7) Breathless; 8) Space Cowboy; 9) People You Can't Trust; 10) All In Satan's Name; 12) Close Your Eyes.

Once again, recorded with a totally new lineup: Steve Bolton on guitar, Ric Parnell on drums, and veteran soulster Chris Farlowe, once famous for singing blue-eyed cover versions of Rolling Sto­nes songs ('Out Of Time', etc.), and now fresh out of the jazz-rock team Colosseum, on vocals. And, al­though Crane is still responsible for most of the songwriting, this no longer has anything to do with the Atomic Rooster of old. This is «Post-Atomic» Rooster: more tits, less balls.

Made in England the record might be, but the title is clearly ironic: most of the album shows an extremely strong influence from the soul and funk genres. This may not be so surprising, conside­ring that, of all the «prog» bands of the early 1970s, Atomic Rooster were among the most deeply rooted in blues-rock, and the distance from bluesy riffs to funky syncopation is nowhere near as long as it is from Bach or Bartok to the same. But white British people engaging in groove-based funk still take on much more responsibility than white British people churning out blues patterns — and with Rooster's backlog and general pedigree, prejudices against their switching direction just like that are fully justified. Crane is an excellent musician, but plenty of excellent musicians have fallen flat on their backs tackling rhythm-based music forms, and Made In England, unfor­tunately, is no exception.

The album's one redeeming point is that many of the songs are relatively well written. If the gro­oves are not all that «hot», they are at least memorable, as on the non-hit single 'Stand By Me', be it through the catchy chorus melody or through some other directly undetectable trick. The pro­vocative title of 'All In Satan's Name' is never justified by the proper eeriness of the melody, but the Allman Brothers-like riff that sets the stage around two minutes into the song is good. And 'People You Can't Trust', per se, is a fairly respectable attempt to create something in the style of Funkadelic — except that the song should have rather been donated to Funkadelic themselves.

The few tracks that still remind us of the former Rooster include the instrumental 'Breathless', a concentrated and powerful piano romp, whose new-school wah-wah guitars still cannot conceal the fact that the track serves as an excuse to demonstrate Crane's technique; and the lyrical ballad 'Ne­ver To Lose' (but not the album-closing ballad 'Close Your Eyes', a tepid gospel-soul excursion whose temperature only slightly hovers above zero degrees). The «evil child» of the re­cord is 'Space Cowboy', a strange track that does seem to want to combine elements of hoedown stylistics with sci-fi effects — it is up to the listener to decide if the effect is comparable to an orgasmatron or a necronomicon.

Personal assessment: I have never liked Chris Farlowe as a solo artist or a member of Colosseum, and I certainly am not prone to liking him here. Big, bulgy, brawny singers should either be drunk all the time (like Noddy Holder), or impersonate psychos and street bullies (like Brian Johnson); «opera star» style is abysmal in the context of a rock-oriented record, particularly when that style leaves no place for subtlety or, come to think of it, range — all of these songs convey a «pom­pous ass» spirit, no matter how humble and down-to-earth Farlowe might be in real life.

In any case, the real problem of Made In England is not the actual quality of the songs — there have been much more bland and boring records released in the UK that year — but the sad reali­sation that it put a premature stop to any serious aspirations that Atomic Rooster could have at the time, and seriously hints at Crane's instability: only a true madman could have chased away John Du Cann and replace him with a second-rate guitarist (I actually saw a video of Steve Bolton sup­porting the Who on their 1989 reunion tour, where he was filling in for Townshend on the elec­tric guitar parts — the word «hack» was the only one that came to mind) and a has-been opera-pop star. At least the album conjures pity rather than hatred ­— given the circumstances, that in itself is a major achievement.

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