ELO, Kiddies: Jeff Lynne’s Back, Neil Young’s ‘Bluenote‘ Special & More
Jeff Lynne’s ELO: Alone In The Universe (Columbia) I am amazed at the warmth, familiarity and overall sense of welcome I feel upon hearing this, Jeff Lynne’s first Electric Light Orchestra album in over a decade—and one that presumably bears the “Jeff Lynne’s” prefix to distinguish it from that other band, Electric Light Orchestra Part II, which contained the band’s original drummer, and others, but not Lynne himself. Not a small matter. Lynne’s a fascinating figure: In the ‘60s his work with Brit band the Idle Race—undersung then, available via streaming now—still holds up remarkably well, sounding midway between the Beatles, and, say that very first Traffic album. And his work with Roy Wood in the celebrated Move is, especially on their 1971 Message From The Country album, virtually peerless in the world of early ‘70s Britpop. But his transition from arty pop handyman, which occurred after those first few ELO albums, with former partner Wood long gone, to hit-making machine is equally as remarkable–and perhaps, in retrospect, equally undersung. These days, Lynne’s major rep may be due to 1) His ELO hits, 2) His status as a producer or co-producer (Tom Petty, George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Del Shannon, Brian Wilson [!], Paul McCartney [!]), and 3) His former life as a Traveling WIlbury. And as valid as all that is, let’s not forget that he is first and foremost a singer and a songwriter, and it is here—on Alone In The Universe—where he is making a very welcome return. It’s all good: the hits, the hooks, the inescapable production style (difficult to define but so easy to recognize), and the fact that most of this record sounds very much like Jeff Lynne is, as they say, at the top of his game—and is fortunate enough to only make records when he wants to, rather than, financially speaking, he needs to. I’d call him an unsung hero, but the man has been singing for years now, and he sounds better than ever. Welcome back, sir.
Neil Young And Bluenote Café: Bluenote Café (Reprise) An extended live document of Neil Young’s 1988 tour—in which he and his band of that particular moment, the Blue Notes, played most of his anti-commercial rant This Note’s For You—may surprise you, especially if you were listening back then. The album was the man’s first for his former label Reprise, after a controversial stay with Geffen—where he was essentially sued for not sounding like himself—and while its politics seemed admirable (musicians selling out to commercial interests = bad), the music was almost subversively bar-bandesque, which made fully enjoying it a complex matter. But all these years later, with its bearing the “Neil Young Archive Performance Series” logo (Disc 11!), it can be enjoyed in the broader context of Young’s massive career span. And guess what? It sounds better now than it did then, the was-it-a- put-on workmanlike stage announcements from Young seem surrealistic and not self-conscious, and the performed songs—“This Note’s For You,” “Soul Of A Woman, “Ten Men Workin’” and “Life On The City” especially—have a feel that few of Young’s other live works have. If you’ve been a longtime fan and felt this period in Young’s career was less than interesting, relatively speaking, a 2015 listening of what was happening back then in 1988 may surprise you.
Chris Isaak: First Comes The Night (Vanguard) It’s been awhile since Chris Isaak’s made a new record—his first recording of all original songs in six years, it says here—so one wouldn’t be blamed for wondering if he still had whatever he once had, whether it be good looks, a side career as an Elvis imitator, a cable TV star, or a Jeopardy answer in the Hot Music Videos category. But indeed, this is a highly classy affair, as have been most of his albums. He is in superb voice, and the selection of songs, from opener “First Comes The Night” to closer “The Way Things Really Are,” is thematically sound, romantic and mature in that (non-ironic) Bryan Ferry way. It is the sort of thing you might want to listen to in your car, were you inclined to drive up and down stretches of a picturesque coastal highway smoking packages of Silva Thins, were you lucky enough to find any. It’s all surprisingly good, actually–enough so that if you met someone who told you their older sister was an absolute Chris Isaak fanatic, it would make perfect sense. He’s that kind of artist, and maybe we’ve forgotten. It’s good to have him back.
DM3: West Of Anywhere (Alive Naturalsound) If you like energetically played, melodically infused, sounds-better-the-louder-it’s-played rock ‘n’ roll, if you’re looking for things you may have missed, and if you grew up in a mid-America best served by mall record stores like Musicland, there’s every chance in the world you missed out on Australia’s DM3 and you will go bonkers when you finally hear them. This set, which collects the best of the band’s three ‘90s albums, is a perfect distillation of what they were all about: Hooks, energy, power, and as trios go (Dom Mariani, Toni Italiano, Pascal Bartolone), not a single wasted note anywhere. Anyone captivated by the current Datura4—and captivated you should be—should check out DM3, as it features that band’s Mariani in perhaps more polished, less frenetic mode, but certainly equally as enjoyable. You and most everyone else will like this lots.
The Wainwright Sisters: Songs In The Dark ([PIAS] America) A charming, understated and deliciously creepy album by Martha Wainwright and Lucy Wainwright Roche, who between them share Kate McGarrigle, Suzzy Roche and Loudon Wainwright as parents, and some of the most fascinating genetics ever bestowed upon humanity by a benevolent God. An album of lullabies? Fascinating, moody, sensitive stuff, the sort that had it been recorded in the late ‘60s would be deemed wholly pioneering, and maybe a bit nightmare-inducing. Speaking of which: I recognized part of their “Baby Rocking Medley” here from excessive playing of Paul Kantner’s Blows Against The Empire while staring at my black light back in high school. We all have deep, dark secrets.
Girlschool: Guilty As Sin (UDR Music) I am the sentimental sort, and I cannot help but feel a surge of warmth when I consider Britain’s fabulous, loud, legendary, all-female Girlschool—a band for whom I and my fellow editors at a magazine I once worked often wrote colorful captions that still stand the test of time. As will Guilty As Sin, a fine addition to the Girlschool legacy—for indeed, the band’s been at it now for over 35 years, and still features original quartet members Kim McAuliffe, Enid Williams and Denise Dufort. I like this record—it is polished, there is a catchy, rhythmic-chant aspect to it all, especially to the title track, that evokes the Runaways, Billy Idol, and that whole mess—and the gals themselves are apparently now touring Europe with Saxon, which evokes yet another tingle of warmth. In a world full of uncertainty, of odd and unpredictable noises, of foolish politicians bellowing like trained seals, let us be grateful that bands such as Girlschool exist.
Eric Clapton: Slowhand At 70: Live At The Royal Albert Hall (Eagle Rock) Kind of a fascinating concept here: First of all, a document of guitar legend Clapton’s 7-day stint at London’s Royal Albert Hall—celebrating a full 50 years after his initial performance there with the Yardbirds, no less—is no small thing. Further, a career retrospective of his best known tracks (including a bit of Cream and Blind Faith) seem entirely appropriate. But what’s interesting: This set, which comes in multiple configurations (2 CD/DVD, Blu-Ray, etc.), sounds absolutely marvelous—Clapton in band are in fine form—but the video editing, documenting the week-long stint, has been drawing some criticism on the Internet for being too fast-paced, snippy, MTV-esque, etc. Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t—between you and me, I now have the attention span of a gnat—but I find it interesting that in 2015, consumers are now reviewing musical works on the basis of camera angles rather than notes, soulfulness, or pure musical expression. It looks and sounds great—and, at 70, so does Eric Clapton.
Squeeze: Cradle To The Grave (Caroline) Speaking of unexpected bursts of warmth, there’s something to be said for the familiar rush one feels upon hearing this, the first truly new album by Britain’s highly regarded Squeeze. Featuring band founders Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford, the album contains a varied batch of tunes–upbeat, melodic, wry and occasionally creepily intelligent—and a welcome reminder of those days when simply writing extraordinary pop songs was the goal to which every decent rock ‘n’ roll band aspired. While I wish them the very best and hope they have it in them to still create something measuring up to their mid-‘80s masterwork East Side Story—doubtful, because it was extraordinary—I am more than happy with what Cradle To The Grave offers, and should you hear it, you will be, too.
