There's a time in life for Hoagy Carmichael. There's a time in life for Claude Debussy. There's a time in life for Jerry Lee Lewis. There's a time in life for Destiny's Child. All these things have their moment. ~Elvis Costello
Zebra was (and as of this writing still is) an overlooked melodic hard rock band whose eponymous 1983 debut was the fastest-selling album in the history of Atlantic Records thanks to buzz generated by relentless east coast gigging.
That debut is a fine album. Its follow-up, for which guitarist/singer/songwriter Randy Jackson admits he had little material prepared due to the band’s tour and promotion schedule, is lackluster by comparison.
With the third album (whose title is a reference to the lengthy process of its creation) came a commitment to make the best record of the band’s career, as they perhaps sensed their major-label mortality.
Predictably, it was the last of their Atlantic tenure, as the label did little to promote it and it failed to chart.
But critics have given 3.V high marks, saying it contains some of the trio’s best material. The powerful, infectious guitar and synth sound and Jackson’s songwriting deserved a better commercial fate.
I saw the band live for the first time in 2023 and they were still bringing it. Randy Jackson’s guitar work was brilliant and his vocal range still impressive.
I grew up, more or less, on classic rock and bubblegum pop. Then Brave Combo saved me.
There’s nothing wrong with classic rock, as I’m sure you’d agree. And there’s nothing wrong with saccharin pop either, as I’m less sure you’d agree.
But there’s a risk, as you reach a certain age, in succumbing to taste lock, which I’d define as a loss of elasticity of musical appreciation.
Like older bodies often don’t stretch unless there’s a concerted effort to make them stretch, our music appreciation can be, uh, hamstrung by an unwillingness to broaden our palette beyond what we’ve always liked.
Although I came to love many types of pop and rock from a young age–from hard rock to progressive to folk to British Invasion to 70’s singer-songwriters to recently-labeled “yacht rock”, it was all pretty much guitar-based music.
Then a CD handed down from my older brother changed all that.
Brave Combo’s A Night On Earth opened my ears to music that was led by a clarinet…an accordion…a saxophone (and not the toothless, smarmy Kenny G kind).
The guitar in Brave Combo’s music–band leader Carl Finch’s guitar– was often just keeping the rhythm. The leads were given over to instruments less often associated with rock and pop.
And the songs were nothing short of a concise musical tour of the world.
In a sense, my appreciation for music is divided into pre-Brave Combo and post-Brave Combo eras, because ever since they smashed open my brain I am able to listen to almost anything without prejudice; without the instrumentation being an impediment. I’m open to all styles of music since coming to love this band, since hearing this album in particular.
A Night On Earth was the equivalent in musical terms to the moment Dorothy opens her front door to see full-color Oz replacing bleak, black-and-white Kansas.
Mind you I hadn’t grown up under a rock. I’d been exposed to classical music. And jazz. But I appreciated them as something other than “my” music.
Brave Combo was a rock band. In fact, they almost seemed a punk band. I mean, I’ve never heard a polka as subversive as “Do Something Different”.
Yes, I said “polka”.
If that frightens you then I should warn you this album contains hora, tango, traditional Italian music, Afro-Cuban salsa, Brazilian choro, and Tex-Mex.
It’s all over the place. But it’s not “World Music” in the Peter Gabriel sense.
Although World Music maven David Byrne hired Brave Combo to entertain at his wedding, these guys don’t treat non-Western musical styles with reverence
They attack them with a vengeance.
There is no purism or musical snootery here. It’s just party music played with daring and consummate skill in styles representing the world over.
It might not take on first listen. I confess that the CD I received from my older brother ended up in the hands of my younger brother–until I visited him in New York a couple years later and he happened to put it on and all that clarinet-led goodness finally sunk in with me.
I asked for it back.
Then I never missed a Brave Combo album release or concert opportunity for the next two decades.
Since the departure of Bubba Hernandez the band has become more of a polkacentric affair. But this classic lineup, with Bubba playing bass, singing the Spanish-language tunes and keeping the Latin sounds to the fore, offered the greatest musical diversity.
Sometimes the spell of enchantment cast by a band’s music belies the tumult of the creative process.
The Left Banke, led by 17-year-old songwriter/pianist/whiz kid Michael Brown and his father, producer/arranger Harry Lookofsky, pioneered so-called baroque pop with a pair of gorgeous mid-60’s hits–“Walk Away Renee” and “Pretty Ballerina”–inlaid with the sounds of harpsichord, woodwinds, and a small string section.
The music was as innovative as it was sublime.
But the band’s short lifespan is testament to the fact that all was not harmonious in the studio.
Brown left during the recording of their second album, frustrated by the challenges of reproducing their complex sound live with young and inexperienced bandmates.
And his bandmates were frustrated with Brown, who wasn’t the easiest guy to get along with.
But like other bands who produced enduring and seminal work, the Left Banke had an extended afterlife, including short-lived reunions, one-off singles and even commercial jingles.
Strangers On a Train (titled Voices Calling in Britain) was recorded sans Brown by the remaining trio of vocalist Steve Martin-Caro, drummer George Cameron and bassist Tim Finn. The recordings are from 1978, though the album didn’t see release until ten years later.
Finn had signed a publishing deal with Camex music and recruited his former bandmates to fill out his demos at the suggestion of the company, who encouraged him to turn it into a Left Banke project.
It’s notable that Finn never considered the recordings to be “finished” even when released in ’86 under the Left Banke name.
George Cameron, Steve Martin-Caro, Tom Finn
That said, Strangers On a Train is worth hearing for fans of Badfinger, Big Star and even the Raspberries.
“Hold On Tight” could be an Eric Carmen power pop rave-up from ’72.
“And One Day” is a delicate, heart-tugging ballad of lost love featuring Martin-Caro’s McCartney-esque delivery.
And “Only My Opinion” lands squarely in Badfinger/Big Star territory, with tasty guitar fills and plaintive vocals.
The 2022 re-release of the album includes 6 additional tracks–Michael Brown demos recorded with Steve Martin-Caro on vocals–offering a tantalizing glimpse at what might have been had the band reunited one last time.
A moot point since Steve Martin-Caro and Tom Finn died in 2020, following George Cameron’s passing in 2018 and Michael Brown’s in 2015.
But the 1978 recordings–despite Michael Brown’s absence and the fact that the band had moved on from its trademark 60’s baroque pop adornments–sounds like a lost piece of the 70’s pop rock story.
If you miss that sound and have worn out your too-small collection of Badfinger and Big Star records, here’s some new old music for you.
While not exactly a household name this side of the Atlantic, Lindisfarne and their fine 1970 debut LP should be on the radar of any fan of folk-influenced rock of the era.
The Newcastle group’s sound evoked The Band at times, but with decidedly English leanings. Or a looser version of early Fairport perhaps. And nicely in tune with the acid folk vibe in late-60’s/early 70’s Britain.
This album peaked at #8 in the UK charts a year after its release, having gotten a jolt when their second album Fog On the Tyne topped the charts in 1971.
But while Tyne was their breakthrough, Nicely Out of Tune is their strongest album.
The pretty, atmospheric “Lady Eleanor” kicks off the album. The song features mandolin accents by Ray Jackson, who also played the instrument on Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May”. The songs ends nicely with a mandolin-and-bass coda.
The simple, haunting beauty of “Winter Song” repays careful attention to the lyrics, while “Turn a Deaf Ear” displays the band’s harmonies and shanty-esque pub singalong side.
“Alan in the River With Flowers” is another pensive ballad reminiscent of David Cousins’ early Strawbs writing. Its title parodies “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”.
And “Down” is a jaunty tune with instrumental credit to multi-instrumentalist Ray Jackson for playing “flatulette”, which actually consisted of blowing raspberries.
Like Camel, Amazing Blondel, Fairport Convention and so many other fine English bands of the era, lineup changes took a toll just a few albums into Lindisfarne’s run.
But while the subtle brilliance of Nicely Out of Tune will be lost on many, if you’re among those with an ear for nicely-rendered 70’s British folk rock, this album is–as they like to say across the pond–just the job.
On this strange hybrid release, issued shortly before the Moody Blues reunited for their 1978 Octave album, 14 of the 19 tracks are from a December 1969 show at London’s Royal Albert Hall. The remaining five were previously unreleased studio recordings from 1967 and ’68.
The late-60’s Moodies simply couldn’t duplicate their complex, layered studio recordings in a live setting, Justin Hayward couldn’t play an acoustic guitar and electric at the same time. Later-era live releases such as A Night at Red Rocks more successfully did justiceto the band’s symphonic sound.
But this 1969 show, recorded on a night when the band has admitted they were uh, high, is not exactly their crowning achievement.
What we’re concerned with here is the +5, the primary reason for a fan of the classic-era band to welcome this album, as I did in 1977.
The newly-reunited Moodies were about to embark on a new phase, in which Mellotron maestro Mike Pinder would only stick around long enough to record the Octave album. This new era would see the band’s sound “updated” first with ill-fitting saxophone, then later with the synthetic sounds of keyboardist Patrick Moraz bleeping, whirring and whizzing all over the next couple decades of Moody Blues music.
What contemporized their music and made it 80’s radio friendly–I mean it’s hard to argue with a number 1 album–seems like artistic desecration in retrospect. The Moody Blues aren’t supposed to sound current. At their best, they sounded like a band removed from time. Timeless.
A band that recorded with flute, harpsichord, cello, harp and, oh yeah a full orchestra wasn’t exactly trying to sound contemporary in the late 60’s.
At any rate, a year before before Octave–before the band made their artistic deal with the devil and began to slip into the slide zone–we got one last taste of the sound that defined them at their peak, by way of the belatedly-released “+5”.
Though there’s no “Nights in White Satin” among the studio tracks, all five songs (one each by Pinder and bassist John Lodge and three by Justin Hayward) are keepers. In fact, if the “+5” were “+10” it would make for an album worthy even of this band’s artistic peak.
Poppy and relatively succinct (none exceeds four minutes) most of these songs feature Lodge’s arcing falsetto crowning the layered vocal harmonies, drummer Graeme Edge adding the thunder of ominous timpani or stashing interesting fills into corners, Justin Hayward’s signature lead vocals and of course Mike Pinder’s mellotron, which more than any other single element gave classic Moody Blues music that mystical fairytale atmosphere.
If you liked “Voices in the Sky” from In Search of the Lost Chord, you’ll like “Gimme a Little Somethin'”, which combines Justin Hayward’s plaintive lead vocal, tasty Ray Thomas flute, Graeme Edge’s propulsive percussion, all underpinned by Mike Pindar’s mellotron, and ornamented by the aforementioned falsetto by Lodge, whose inventive bass playing is here, as always, the most overlooked aspect of this band’s sublime mix.
Pinder’s “Please Think About It” harkens to the band’s Denny Laine-fronted “Go Now” period–before Hayward and Lodge came on board–with Pinder playing a bluesy piano rather than mellotron.
But with Lodge again painting the ceiling with ethereal high notes above angelic harmonies, a trademark of the post-Laine period, the song bridges eras.
Hayward’s “Long Summer Days” sounds like it could have been a radio hit in 1967 and indeed was intended for single release that year. It actually predates the band’s landmark Days of Future Passed LP and is one of the first songs recorded with the band’s two “new” members, Hayward and Lodge.
“King and Queen” and “What Am I Doing Here” both date from 1968, and their lack of inclusion on the band’s In Search of the Lost Chord album illustrates just how many great songs Justin Hayward was churning out at the time.
Perhaps they were deemed not to fit the concept of the album, and it’s hard to argue with the choices of “Voices in the Sky”, “Visions of Paradise” and “The Actor”, the three Hayward songs that album did feature. Still, this pair of ’68 outtakes are both superb songs.
Lodge’s bass playing on “King and Queen” is inspired. The song is structured like Hayward’s great “Never Comes the Day”, beginning quietly and building in intensity as it progresses to a rousing chorus.
“What Am I Doing Here” inspires visions of Tolkien fantasy and indeed there are fan-made videos for this song on YouTube that connect the worlds of LOTR and the Moodies quite poignantly. Again Hayward’s wistful, melancholy lead vocal in the verses is complemented by Lodge’s eerie falsetto in the chorus.
This is the spellbinding sound of the Moody Blues on top of their creative, progressive game. Their brand of prog wasn’t about tricky time signatures, 16-minute songs, or even instrumental prowess. It was all about atmosphere and sonic beauty.
The five studio recordings from Caught Live +5 are not near the top of any Moody Blues streaming playlist. Released as they were, a decade late and tacked onto a live album, they were fated to be overlooked even by hardcore fans.
Then again, if you’re new to the band’s classic period, or looking for a deeper dive, these songs aren’t a bad place to start.
Random trivia: The 8-track tape version of Caught Live +5 was one of the few albums released on that format which maintained the exact playing order of the vinyl record, with no song breaks.
Singer/songwriter Daniel Tashian’s Silver Seas create the kind of soft rock that belies the denigratory trappings of the tag.
From the heartsick melancholy of the title track, to the lush bossa nova lilt of “A Night On the Town”, to the perky pop of “Karaoke Star”. Tashian’s excellent vocals and stellar songwriting are the through line of a fine, overlooked LP.
This semi-legendary 1972 album featured Paul Butterfield Blues Band alumni in an early example of the Jazz-Rock fusion that would find greater visibility later in the decade as bands like Weather Report and the Crusaders would release their most successful albums and Steely Dan would create session star-studded records like Katy Lied and Aja.
Full Moon was an album that never garnered mainstream exposure but was influential among musicians, who shared it among themselves.
The musicianship is excellent, the feel is loose, the solos are tasty, and the styles vary from song to song. The rocking opening track “The Heavy Scuffle’s On” evokes Rare Earth, while “To Know”, which follows it, is a gorgeous Tower of Power-like R&B ballad. And so on, each track leaning a bit more toward jazz, or gospel or Miles Davis fusion.
This is one of those albums that hit the cutout bins unjustly. Now is your second chance (or more likely your first) to check out this obscure gem.
Weezer’s 14th studio album OK Human is a baroque pop musical departure, recorded entirely on analogue equipment and backed by a 38-piece orchestra. It will almost certainly be among their lowest-charting albums. Oh, and it’s wonderful.
That’s not to say it’ll satisfy the segment of the band’s fans who hanker for the wall of shred of the band’s earlier work. Their upcoming Van Weezer album, scheduled for release just four months after OK Human, ought to meet their noise quota.
But that’s not the point of this album. OK Human is meant to link violin strings to heartstrings. The orchestral setting provides the perfect melodramatic foil for Rivers Cuomo’s endearingly dorkish songwriting voice, so full of misanthropic melancholy. It’s a mix that evokes Ben Folds’ finest moments.
When Sting makes literary references, he comes off a bit up his own arse. When Cuomo does so a winsome humor slips through. Particularly in “Grapes of Wrath” where such references drive home the song’s point.
Cuomo eschews rock machismo cliche, prefering to name check Mrs. Dalloway, Winston Smith and Frodo Baggins. Because he just don’t care, he just don’t care. And anyway “battling Big Brother feels more meaningful than binging zombie hordes.”
Indeed.
Dorkitude aside, it’s the massive pop hooks that have been Cuomo’s calling card ever since “Buddy Holly” in ’94. And on OK Human he delivers the goods again. Critics will talk about guitars vs orchestras, and opine as to whether the lyrics are cheeky, sincere or just corny. But few will take note of the fact that Rivers Cuomo is possibly the best melodist in the world of pop rock.
If you expect a collection of 90’s-era, Seattle-area musicians to sound grungy, quasi-supergroup The Tripwires–made up of members of such bands as Screaming Trees, The Minus 5, Young Fresh Fellows and Supersuckers–would be a suprise.
But the surprise would be a pleasant one if you appreciate guitar pop with smart lyrics, knockout hooks, sweet guitar interplay and tasty solos.
For fans of power pop, or the pub rock of Nick Lowe, Rockpile and Dave Edmunds.
“I had a midlife crisis. That’s why we made this album,” says Nick Niespodziani, the group’s singer, guitarist, and spiritual leader. “Everyone in the band is a dad now, so we needed to make this happen, before we become grandpas. I’ve sung ‘Escape’ by Rupert Holmes at least a thousand times, and if that isn’t paying your dues, I don’t know what is.”
When is a cover band not a cover band?
In the case of front man Nick Niespodziani and his band Yacht Rock Revue, the answer would be when after a decade your tribute to 70’s and 80’s soft rock takes on such a life of its own that it pushes aside other musical aspirations and, like it or not, you’re a dedicated career yacht rock band. Writing new and original yacht rock.
What is yacht rock? It is–or was–or actually still is, I guess, a brand of Adult Oriented Rock that had a West Coast flavor and proliferated mostly from around the mid-70’s to the early 80’s.
The term came later, like around 2005, and was meant to be a less-than-complimentary label ascribed to the music of artists such as Boz Scaggs, Toto, Styx, Player, Little River Band, Orleans, Robbie Dupree, Christopher Cross, Atlanta Rhythm Section and the Michael McDonald-era Doobie Brothers.
But the thing is: people love Boz Scaggs, Toto and the rest. They can’t get enough “Africa” and “Lido Shuffle”. And bands like Yachtley Crew and Yacht Rock Revue can seemingly make a living leading lively polyester pop singalongs and crooning ‘how long has this been going on‘ for, well, as long as they want it to go on.
The genre is too legit to quit.
With artists like Bruno Mars, Pharrell Williams, Fitz and the Tantrums and Lizzo seasoning the pop charts with retro-leaning sounds, Niespodziani and company saw this as the time to surf the nostalgia wave with a collection of new tunes that seems to fall midway between this new/old soft funk and that breezy late-70’s California sound.
Even Rolling Stone magazine has taken notice of a new pop album that–far from being a throw-away genre exercise–is actually crafted with the same care and attention to musical detail as the music it pays homage to, thanks to producer Ben Allen.
While the sax solo in “Step” might hit boomers right in the Kenny Loggins, it’s the musical equivalent of an in-joke in the context of a winning pop tune.
The flute in “Another Song About California” could evoke Firefall or Lizzo, depending who’s listening. The song has an intro that was naggingly familiar-sounding; took me a while to realize what it reminded me of: the first chords of Hall & Oates’ “She’s Gone”.
As for “Bad Tequila”, I don’t know how any pop fan could find it anything but irresistible.
Yacht Rock Revue have successfully updated a genre much loved and much maligned but universally thought to be passé. And they’ve done so with a winking self-deprecation that is itself refreshing considering it’s the self seriousness of some 70’s bands (I’m looking at you, Eagles) that makes them off putting to some younger listeners.
These guys clearly don’t take themselves too seriously. But they have crafted a seriously ear-friendly pop–excuse me–yacht rock album.
Every Moment Has A Song 