Greg Osby: Season Of Renewal

Of all the musical scenes that emerged during the 1980s, M-BASE – a Brooklyn-originated fusion of jazz and funk with many other influences thrown in – may be the least understood/remembered.

The term was co-authored by saxophonists Greg Osby and Steve Coleman. The M stands for ‘Macro’, BASE is an acronym for ‘Basic Array of Structured Extemporizations’.

The music’s other key practitioners were saxophonists Gary Thomas, vocalist Cassandra Wilson, keyboard player Geri Allen, guitarists Kevin Eubanks, David Gilmore and Kelvyn Bell, bassist Lonnie Plaxico and many more.

M-BASE was an attempt to draw attention away from ‘jazz’ as a catch-all term, and also showcase original material over standards and show tunes. But it certainly has its own sound once you hear a few key albums, totally different to ‘fusion’ or ‘jazz/funk’, relying on tightly structured drum patterns (often in odd-time signatures), funk bass, ‘modal’ keyboards, chattering rhythm guitars and Charlie Parker-influenced horn improvisations.

A key artefact was Osby’s arresting album Season Of Renewal, released 35 years ago on now-defunkt German-based label JMT (which also released many other key M-BASE recordings). Checking it out again now for the first time in a few years, it makes for fascinating, rewarding listening.

Themes are mainly outlined by the bass (Plaxico) and/or keyboards (Renee Rosnes and Edward Simon). Osby’s alto or soprano saxes generally only enter during solo sections. The guitarists (Eubanks and Kevin McNeal) are superb. The synths may bring to mind the 1980s music of Mark Isham. Drummer Paul Samuels produces solid grooves and seems to have been issued with a ‘no tom-toms’ decree by Osby.

‘Dialogue X’, featuring just synths and Osby, hints at the political animus always underlying the M-BASE movement. The closing ‘Spirit Hour’ is absolutely spellbinding, like a waking dream, its haunting melody expertly outlined by Cassandra Wilson.

Osby has gone on to a varied, impressive career, including a well-regarded period on Blue Note Records. But none of his JMT albums are currently on streaming platforms (except for a fairly good quality burn on YouTube, see below) – in fact M-BASE is poorly served there, though a so-so compilation has recently surfaced. Best to search for Osby’s 1980s music via CD marketplaces – a fruitful voyage for the uninitiated.

Trevor Horn: Echoes – Ancient & Modern

Over the next few weeks movingtheriver will look at new albums by two giants of 1980s music – Trevor Horn and Peter Gabriel (despite the fact that both arguably stopped being crucial pop forces around 1993 or 1994 – but then pop also probably stopped being crucial around then too, sometime between the first Suede album and the first ‘farewell’ Faith No More LP…)

First up, Uncle Trevor. The superstar producer and one of the architects of 1980s music revisits some of that decade’s key songs with guest vocalists on Echoes. But alarm bells have been ringing in recent interviews where he has mentioned that it’s these songs’ lyrical content that most interests him.

And, sadly, coming from a man who was responsible for some of the best grooves of the 80s and most provocative musical pranks, Echoes is desperate not to offend and a big disappointment. Fair enough, though – the guy is 74 years old, and who knows that sort of record company pressure has come from his new paymasters Deutsche Grammophon who aren’t exactly known for their ‘challenging’ pop albums.

Seal is a brilliant interpreter of the modern pop song and initially his version of Joe Jackson’s ‘Steppin’ Out’ works a treat. But the reformatted chords and bossa-nova feel are seriously skew-whiff, despite a nice (uncredited) trumpet solo. Horn’s collaboration with Michael Buble surely can’t be far off.

‘Slave To The Rhythm’ is reinvented as a piano ballad (for the second time, after Horn/Rumer’s weird 2019 effort), with a few strange new chords and an almost comically stiff groove, and the song just can’t take the strain despite a committed vocal from Lady Blackbird.

Marc Almond is in good voice but his ‘Love Is A Battlefield’ foregrounds a horrid little Euro-disco groove. Meanwhile Iggy makes ‘Personal Jesus’ halfway passable despite an incredibly polite blues setting. It could have worked with the right band.

Steve Hogarth’s ‘Drive’ could have worked too (and if only Horn had produced Marillion circa 1993) but it misses the whole point of The Cars’ original – the dichotomy between the dark lyrics and bittersweet harmony/melody, with liberal use of major-7th chords. Why not a classic soaring Horn swoon-fest along the lines of Seal’s ‘Crazy’?

The key of ‘Owner Of A Lonely Heart’ has been changed to accommodate Rick Astley’s smooth mid-range vocals and he does a passable job but, again, the groove and arrangement are simplistic and not a little irritating.

Toyah is let loose on ‘Relax’ – again, it could and should have worked. But Horn inexplicably reimagines the song as a slow, painstakingly robotic groove with a toe-curlingly reverent recitation of the lyrics. Is it supposed to be funny?

Elsewhere there are versions of ‘White Wedding’, ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ and Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Swimming Pools’ which barely register. Horn’s own vocal on ‘Avalon’ is absolutely fine though, despite the on-the-nose arrangement.

So it’s sad to report that Echoes is rather joyless pop. Most of it might suffice as the soundtrack for ‘Broadchurch’ or a Christmas TV ad but generally it just made me yearn for the originals. One is also desperate for a vocalist with a bit more edge – shame Holly Johnson, Claudia Brucken or even Glenn Gregory couldn’t be persuaded to do a twirl.

Little Feat: Let It Roll 35 Years On

If memory serves I was given the cassette of Little Feat’s Let It Roll for my 16th birthday.

I loved their cocktail of blues, acid-rock, funk, fusion, country, Cajun and Tex-Mex. And they – along with Steely Dan – seemed to represent everything exciting and glamorous about America to me, also introducing exotic-sounding place names like Georgia, Atlanta (!), Tupelo and Juarez.

A burgeoning drummer, I also particularly dug their skinsman Richie Hayward who belongs in the same bracket of 1970s groovemasters as James Gadson, Jeff Porcaro, Jim Keltner, Jim Gordon, Earl Young, Bernard Purdie et al.

I was excited to listen to Let It Roll – which recently turned 35 – after many years, so I looked for my old cassette. Gone. I must have got rid of it years ago. Why? All shall become clear…

Recorded at The Complex, the LA studio owned by EW&F’s Maurice White, it was the band’s comeback album, their first since the death of chief singer/songwriter/slide guitarist Lowell George in 1979.

Of course the absence of George is palpable. Despite new vocalist Craig Fuller’s vague similarity to George in both vocal and slide guitar departments, the days of lyrics like: ‘Onomatopoetry symmetry in motion/They heard about that girl across the ocean’ (‘Down Below The Borderline’) or ‘Heard you got an infection/Just before your lewd rejection’ (‘The Fan’) were long gone.

(According to Hayward, George’s musical influence was also palpable, regularly suggesting fill ideas and rhythms, and frequently telling the drummer that he played too many notes!) Fuller also brings more of a country influence to the band, and there’s less of the ‘white boy got the whoo-whoos!’ (Van Dyke Parks’ analysis of George’s vocal style).

But most of all Let It Roll is inconsistent both song and sound-wise. The good stuff first: opener ‘Hate To Lose Your Lovin’ is a passable pastiche of the classic Feat sound, Second-Line meets funky country, while ‘Cajun Girl’ and the title track are very catchy. ‘Business As Usual’ has a few intriguing harmonic moves and riffs.

Elsewhere there’s too much rather bland AOR, Bruce Hornsby and Steve Winwood apparently the touchstones. Most of the band’s kinks have been ironed out, though Hayward still sounds fantastic, inspired by his new drum hero Manu Katche. Let It Roll could have used some decent mastering too – the volume levels are all over the place.

Surprisingly, the album didn’t chart in the UK but was a very good seller in the US, making #36 on the Billboard Hot 100 and earning a gold disc (they followed it up with 1990’s Representing The Mambo, which I confess I’ve still never heard).

They played a triumphant gig at London’s Town & Country Club in December 1988 though, with special guest Bonnie Raitt on guitar and vocals, and I’m not sure why I wasn’t there. I had to wait until 11 September 2000 to see this brilliant band at the same venue. And, despite the loss of George, Hayward and guitarist Paul Barrere, they’re still an occasional live entity.

(If you’re not acquainted with the band, try Little Feat in their pomp on Feats Don’t Fail Me Now, The Last Record Album or Time Loves A Hero).

XTC: Mummer 40 Years On

There can’t be many more pleasurable summer activities than reclining in an English garden.

But XTC’s chief songwriter/vocalist Andy Partridge cut somewhat of a sad figure during May and June 1982 as he sat hunched over his acoustic guitar, working on new compositions, detoxing from Valium addiction and contemplating the end of his concert career.

Still, those songs were some of his best ever. But they appeared on an extremely inconsistent album called Mummer, named for the silent actors (keeping ‘mum’) who travelled around 18th century Britain and Ireland, released 40 years ago this week and very nearly titled Fruits Fallen From God’s Garden.

Japan (Tin Drum) producer Steve Nye was summoned for the project, recorded at Martin Rushent’s Genetic Studios and The Manor – a strange choice. He is good with the close-mic’d, dry-sounding, beautifully recorded acoustic-based tracks but not the heavier ones which were later remixed by Phil Thornalley, while the legendary Alex Sadkin redid ‘Wonderland’.

But Nye had his work cut out – the album is schizophrenic to say the least. The best songs sound like a decent band playing pretty much live in the studio – ‘Love On A Farmboy’s Wages’ (has there been a better English pop song about poverty?), ‘Great Fire’, ‘Ladybird’ (Andy discusses his jazzier influences in this great video), ‘Me And The Wind’. All wonderful. Dave Gregory is coming into his own with superb contributions on guitar and keyboards.

But the worst songs are rhythmically plodding – it’s understandable that Andy was trying to get away from 4/4 rock drums but ended up with too many cyclical grooves (putting pay to Terry Chambers’ tenure on the kit) – and melodically extremely challenging. Colin Moulding is not in great writing form either, ‘Wonderland’ excepted, though that too might have benefitted from a simpler treatment.

Mummer was initially rejected by Virgin A&R agent Jeremy Lascelles, who demanded another single. The excellent ‘Great Fire’ was Andy’s last-minute response, produced by Haircut 100 helmer Bob Sargeant, but it disappeared without trace – Radio 1 reportedly played it only once!

Along with The Big Express, Mummer was XTC’s worst selling album, reaching a barely believable #51 in the UK album charts and doing little business elsewhere, just over a year after ‘Senses Working Overtime’. It has to be said it was also not served well by its awful cover. But it features plenty of great music.

Further reading: ‘XTC Song Stories’ by Neville Farmer

Frank Zappa: London Symphony Orchestra @ 40

In the last ten years of his life, Frank Zappa released a series of orchestral albums, now mainly forgotten by all but his most ardent fans. But they are vital constituents of his work, and may surprise listeners who only know him as a ‘rock’ musician.

A key artefact is the self-financed London Symphony Orchestra, the first volume of which was released 40 years ago (the second followed in 1987, before both were rereleased on CD and streaming platforms in 2012) and my pick of Frank’s ‘classical’ works.

It was recorded between 12-14 January 1983 at Twickenham Film Studios in South West London, on the banks of the Thames. The night before, on 11 January, the orchestra (plus Ed Mann and Chad Wackerman from Frank’s ‘rock’ band) performed the repertoire at the Barbican. Check out how the BBC reported that here.

Zappa has spoken candidly about the difficulties he had rehearsing and recording this music (percussionist Mann reports that the orchestra had a whole week of rehearsal – almost unheard of – at the Hammersmith Odeon and that he had been given his parts a month before rehearsals so that he could practice at home), and the myriad editing and studio tricks that had to be utilised before he was happy. ‘The Big Note’ tells the fascinating full story.

The music was split into premiere works and older material. The standout is probably ‘Bogus Pomp’, which reworks much of the orchestral stuff from ‘200 Motels’ to stunning effect. ‘Envelopes’ will be familiar to fans of the previous year’s Ship Arriving Too Late album.

It’s a blast of challenging, exciting music, even if you’re not a fan of ‘classical’ music. Excited by Varese, Boulez, Messiaen, Ives, Bartok and Stravinsky, amongst others, Zappa dealt in timbre and ‘blocks’ of sound, featuring big chords and big percussion sounds, bypassing cliché and having no truck with the notion that it was ‘difficult’ music. If you liked it, bitchin’. If you didn’t, there was a lot of other stuff out there.

Another bit of good news is that these two albums sound absolutely superb in their current incarnation on streaming services and CD, leaving the following year’s Perfect Stranger in the dust. All of those post-production tricks paid off. Thanks to Frank.

Peter Gabriel: Plays Live 40 Years On

PG’s first live album – released 40 years ago this week – touched down incongruously during 1983’s Summer of Fun, crashing into the UK chart at #9 alongside Let’s Dance and Thriller (but Japan’s posthumous live album Oil On Canvas did even better – it was the week’s highest new entry at #5).

Plays Live was ostensibly recorded during four dates of the American tour in December 1982. Gabriel had taken some choreography lessons and often ventured into the audience for ‘Lay Your Hands On Me’, sometimes ‘falling backwards’ from the stage in the manner of those corporate team-building/trust exercises.

But he was very transparent about there being a lot of ‘cheating’ on this album – many overdubs/vocal corrections were undertaken with the assistance of co-producer Peter Walsh (fresh from Simple Minds’ New Gold Dream) at Gabriel’s Ashcombe House studios near Bath.

Plays Live hangs together very well – it’s immaculately sequenced and you certainly get your money’s worth, clocking in at a shade under 90 minutes. The tracks taken from Peter Gabriel IV AKA Security are a huge improvement on the studio versions. ‘Humdrum’, ‘Not One Of Us’, ‘No Self Control’ and ‘DIY’ are similarly transformed to become radical, vital updates.

There’s even an excellent Melt outtake called ‘I Go Swimming’. And when the band are freed from the sequencers and drum machines, they really sound like a band – check out the ‘floating’ tempos of ‘Humdrum’ and a few other tracks.

Jerry Marotta’s huge drum sound and (quite advanced) used of drum machines were not everyone’s cup of tea – Bill Bruford was still kvetching about it to Modern Drummer magazine during a 1989 interview. Both Marotta and synthesist Larry Fast, a key collaborator, were given the boot by Gabriel at the end of 1983, to much consternation.

My entrée into Plays Live was the (remixed) single release of ‘I Don’t Remember’ courtesy of its video being shown on ‘The Max Headroom Show’ in 1985. Marcello Anciano’s disturbing clip featured nude dancers from the Rational Theatre Company and some figures inspired by the artist/sculptor Malcolm Poynter. It’s hardly surprising that it missed the top 40…

ZZ Top: Eliminator @ 40

So here we are. ZZ Top’s breakthrough album, 20 million sales and counting. Not bad for a lil’ ole blues’n’boogie trio from Texas.

But Eliminator, released 40 years ago this week, also carries some controversy around with it. As they say: where there’s a hit, there’s a writ.

Along with Sgt. Pepper’s, Roxy’s Flesh & Blood and a few others, it was one of the first albums your correspondent remembers enjoying all the way through. And, if you were a burgeoning drummer, ‘Gimme All Your Lovin’’ was the one all your schoolmates wanted you to play.

It’s a lesser known bit of 1980s muso gossip that ZZ guitarist/chief vocalist Billy Gibbons was one of the first major figures to get hold of a Fairlight synth/sampler. He experimented with it on the band’s 1981 album El Loco, but that was a stiff, selling half as many copies as 1979’s Deguello.

It was time for a rethink. First port of call – the beats. It wasn’t easy to dance to ZZ. Gibbons asked chief engineer Terry Manning to research new grooves, so he hit the discos. Inspired by OMD, Devo, Human League, Depeche Mode et al, Manning bought an Oberheim DMX drum machine and the band started working up new material in their Memphis bolthole.

Moving to drummer Frank Beard’s home studio in Houston, a chap called Lindon Hudson helped a lot with the new technology and songwriting (uncredited on Eliminator, he later won substantial damages after a lawsuit). He also claimed 124 beats-per-minute was the sweetspot.

A move to Memphis’s Ardent Studios saw Gibbons hit the city’s after-hours joints. ‘TV Dinners’ was apparently inspired when a woman entered a club wearing a white jumpsuit with those words emblazoned on the back. He also claimed that ‘I Got The Six’ was inspired by a visit to peak-punk London in 1977.

All in all, Eliminator took about a year to make. It still has many pleasures, Gibbons’ blues soloing and frequent surreal vocal interjections/lyrics chief amongst them. Gibbons and Dusty Hill also play in some strange, unguitar-friendly keys, possibly because some of the material was written on keyboards. Try playing along.

Gibbons’ 1933 Ford coupe on the cover was a tax write-off and helped to make Tim Newman’s vids for ‘Legs’, ‘Sharp Dressed Man’ and ‘Gimme’ bona fide 1980s classics. The band’s nine-month world tour kicked off in May 1983, aided by Manning’s beefy sound mix courtesy of the album’s four-track masters.

It’s fair to say that Eliminator massively influenced Prince, the Stones, Van Halen and Def Leppard, and arguably changed the way rock artists used technology forever.

Happy 40th birthday to a 1980s classic. But hey, don’t forget to credit Manning and Hudson…

Jeff Beck’s Guitar Shop With Tony Hymas & Terry Bozzio

Keyboard player Tony Hymas had one of the weirder music careers of the 1980s.

He began the decade helping to make There And Back one of Jeff Beck’s best albums, then popped up in a supergroup called PHD with singer Jim Diamond and drummer Simon Phillips, getting a classic UK one-hit wonder ‘I Won’t Let You Down’ (#2 in 1982!), then played on/wrote arguably the best track from Beck’s pretty poor 1985 album Flash, and then…not a lot for a while (read this excellent rare interview for more on Tony’s career).

But he was an absolutely vital part of Beck’s career comeback courtesy of Guitar Shop, released in October 1989. You might even call it Beck’s last great album, and arguably Bozzio’s too.

They recorded at Jimmy Page’s residential Sol Studios in leafy Cookham, Surrey (Beck later reported: ‘When we finished the album, I left me bike in his shed, so he got a bicycle out of it too…’!). The album ended up taking eight months to write and record because Hymas brought a chess board with him.

Beck took genres that he’d touched upon throughout his career – blues, reggae, rockabilly, metal, funk, fusion – and used them as a jumping-off points, working up material with Hymas and Bozzio in the studio.

And it’s very memorable material. On the title track Beck fondly mocks the gear obsession of guitar magazines, and goes through a range of tones and effects in the process, but…it all just sounds like Jeff. A Strat or Telecaster, distortion/delay pedals, and that’s it. It’s all in his fingers.

On the masterpiece that is ‘Where Were You’, he plays the lion’s share of the melody (reportedly very influenced by the Bulgarian State Radio & Television Female Vocal Choir AKA Les Voix Bulgares) with harmonics and very judicious use of the whammy bar, bending in and out of notes with just the right amount of wrist tension.

Bozzio plays a blinder – mostly reining in his formidable technique at the expense of groove and presence – but unleashes some seriously quick double-bass playing on ‘Sling Shot’. Thrash-metal drummers beware. And there’s THAT amazing fill at the end.

Hymas is a great accompanist – you hardly miss real bass and only very occasionally yearn for another instrumental foil for Beck. A couple of tracks on the album became live staples too, played in concert to this day – ‘Big Block’, ‘Where Were You’ and ‘Behind The Veil’.

Guitar Shop did OK in the States, making #49, but weirdly didn’t chart in the UK. But it did win a Best Rock Instrumental Grammy award in 1990. Their Hammersmith gig of 29 July that year was one of the loudest ever heard at the venue.

Beck talked up the possibility of a second album and tour but it never happened. They did reform for Jeff’s birthday party at the Royal Festival Hall in 2002 though. And El Becko even got on the BBC’s ‘Rapido’:

 

Miles Davis: The Bootleg Series Vol. 7 (That’s What Happened)

The heart always beats a little faster when there’s news of a ‘previously unreleased’ Miles project. And if it’s from the 1980s, even better.

The era is still one the least understood/lauded periods of Miles’s work, despite the stellar efforts of George Cole.

It also has not been served well posthumously, particularly by his final label Warners; in recent years there has been the weirdly undercooked/incomplete Rubberband project, and the appallingly-mastered/incomplete Warners Years box set.

So hopes were high for Sony’s new Bootleg Series 7, which takes in the years 1982 to 1985 and looks at the sessions that made up the (classic) albums Star People, Decoy and You’re Under Arrest. The packaging looks OK:

But what about the music? Before his death, Teo Macero, producer of many epochal Davis albums and also Star People, was very critical of the ‘complete sessions’ boxes that appeared after Miles’s demise. It’s safe to say he would not like this either.

We essentially get a collection of long studio jams, featuring the occasional familiar section – generally the best bit of the jam, expertly filleted by Teo. He really earned his money during this era of Miles music. There are also some alternative versions of You’re Under Arrest material, a few full-length, unedited versions of released tracks and one or two outtakes such as ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It’.

The full, unedited versions of ‘Freaky Deaky’ (Darryl Jones’ first recording with Miles) and ‘Katia’ (before Miles took his razor blade to John McLaughlin’s remarkable solo) are well worth hearing. Marcus Miller plays a brilliant bass solo on ‘Remake Of OBX Ballad’. There’s also a really strange duet featuring trombonist JJ Johnson and Miles on keyboards.

Unlike some of the previous Bootleg Series albums, there’s a lack of interesting studio chatter, which would have enlivened things (though there is the occasional brief Miles interjection). And there are still tracks that refuse to leave the vaults, such as the version of Nik Kershaw’s ‘Wild Horses’.

Disc one just contains too many formless jams, with Mike Stern, Miles and Bill Evans struggling to put together cogent solos (despite Al Foster’s beautiful drumming), and basically the band is crying out for John Scofield’s arrival in autumn 1982. He brings immediate relief, from both a soloing and compositional perspective. The live disc is serviceable and quite well recorded, but certainly not one of the best nights from the 1983 tour.

Essentially, we learn three things from the very uneven Bootleg Series 7: Scofield was a vital addition to Miles’s band and prolonged his career, Miller was Miles’s best bass player of the 1980s and Macero did a great job on Star People. But we probably knew all of that already.

So, basically, it’s another opportunity missed. I’ll stick to the original albums, with one or two exceptions. But you gotta check it out if you’re a fan of Miles’s 1980s music. George Cole covers the box in a lot more detail here.

David Sylvian/Holger Czukay: Plight & Premonition

As winter ghosts gather and Halloween approaches, Plight & Premonition makes for a great seasonal soundtrack.

David Sylvian reportedly hated the term ‘new age’ and wasn’t even that fond of ‘ambient’, preferring the phrase ‘environmental’ to describe his instrumental work of the ‘80s (he lived in South Kensington, a busy part of West London, and occasionally spoke of making music that would remind him of being in nature).

And what a body of work it is. Plight & Premonition is a great conjuring trick – it’s almost impossible to work out how it was done. Sylvian and Czukay concoct an intoxicating blend of tape loops, Dictaphone, acoustic piano, radio recordings, treated guitar and analogue synths which doesn’t sound remotely like anyone else’s ‘ambient’ music.

Sylvian arrived at Czukay’s massive studio near Cologne – an abandoned cinema – in autumn 1986 to work on the latter’s Rome Remains Rome album. But that work never materialised. Instead, after a dinner out, they returned to the studio and started messing about on Czukay’s many instruments.

Sylvian told writer Richard Cook more about the album’s genesis in ‘The Wire’ magazine:

I dislike studios immensely, but I like Holger’s studio because it’s all one room and it’s geared towards the musician. You never really know when you’re being recorded. There was three nights’ worth of improvising. ‘Plight’ was originally just a ten-minute piece of music which Holger worked on for six months afterwards, adding signals from short-wave radio and stuff, and finally turning it into the piece it is now. ‘Premonition’ is a piece we did at the end of the three days and it’s just as it stood.

The only thing we can be sure of is that ‘Plight’ is – tangentially – in E minor, whereas ‘Premonition’ is in E major. The former is disturbing, the latter uplifting. Apart from that it’s best to just let it wash over you.

The album emerged on Virgin’s burgeoning instrumental imprint Venture Records on 21 March 1988. Superbly, it also made an appearance in the UK album chart at #71 and sold well. Sylvian was still quite a draw in the slipstream of Secrets Of The Beehive.

However the current streaming/CD version of Plight & Premonition is an awful remix carried out by Sylvian in 2002 during his Everything And Nothing greatest hits period, when he was reassessing everything he’d done for Virgin (and not liking a lot of it).

He inexplicably removed all reverb (both real – via the studio echo chamber – and digital), leading to a fidgety, unpleasantly dry mix with very little depth or substance. Best to find the original 1988 release if you can, and you’ll also get Yuka Fujii’s delicious cover photo too.