Once in a while a band comes along that challenges your ability to categorize, even for the sake of recommending, or to put your finger on a template for. North Carolina’s Roman Candle are nominally an alt country band (I suppose) but while their songs may call other bands to mind at times, they really sound like no one–they are the rare band who are their own template.
A reviewer in the Charlotte Observer used Goats Head Soup-era Rolling Stones for comparison, and that’s as good a match as any. But I won’t hesitate to say this is a better record. There are few if any weak moments–from beginning to end it’s a melodic mix of grit and sensitivity, sometimes woven together seamlessly.
NC locals knew and raved about this band for years before this album, which was shelved for about four years by the record company, finally was released in 2006. I can’t name a better album released that year.
Roman Candle is chiefly front man Skip Matheny, his wife Timshel on keyboards and his brother Logan on drums. In person they impress you as some of the most unassuming and personable people in the music business, truly the kind of folks that deserve success. But I think talent will be the determining factor, and a listen to The Wee Hours Revue will convince you they’ve got it in spades. This might just be your next favorite band.
For ears accustomed to contemporary pop music alone, this one’s a reach. But for the more adventurous ear, or for those who like 70’s Irish and English pop-folk, this is an album you should know about. As one Amazon.com reviewer put it: If you like it, you’ll love it.
Tir Na Nog are Sonny Condell and Leo O’Kelly, who met in Dublin in 1969. Discovering that they both had plans to relocate and give the more extensive London folk scene a go, they decided to form a duo. On their arrival in London, not only were they able almost immediately to line up a steady stream of gigs, but within a week their demo tapes earned them a contract from Chrysalis Records.
Their Celtic-rooted folk, with intricate guitar accompaniment and idiosyncratic lyrics made an immediate impression on folk and rock audiences alike; not only did they headline shows at colleges and London folk clubs, but they toured Europe in support of arena-filling acts such as Jethro Tull, Hawkwind, Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span, Procol Harum, The Who, Cat Stevens, Roxy Music and Elton John.
Such was their reputation’s rise over two years and two albums that when it came time to record Strong in the Sun they were booked into Sound Techniques studio in London, where people like Paul McCartney and Wings worked, and much sought-after engineer Geoff Emerick, who’d worked on albums such as Sgt. Pepper and Revolver, was hired on to work with them.
Where their 1971 eponymous first album was filled with simply arranged, pastoral acoustic folk inspired by the Irish countryside, their second album, 1972’s A Tear and a Smile, found them moving slightly and subtly toward fuller arrangements and using a full drum kit for the first time. Strong in the Sun in 1973 completed the transition, and pushed the envelope of folk rock into full rock band territory. However, the album is not without a few sensitive acoustic moments that revisit the sound of the earlier work.
The album’s only non-original is a rather drastic reworking of Nick Drake’s ‘Free Ride’. Tir Na Nog were the only artists to cover Drake while he was still living. They were also perhaps the first to use what is now called “sampling”–the song ‘Cinema’ contains an instrumental bridge overlaid with a bit of audio from an old Henry Fonda Western.
The two held an art-over-commerce ethic throughout their major label run. Their first album did not see U.S. release because Chrysalis insisted they include Bob Dylan’s ‘Maggie’s Farm’, a concert favorite, on the record. Sonny and Leo refused and the label did not release the LP in the States as a result. When the record company suggested they include printed lyrics with their second album as was becoming customary at the time the two again stood their ground and refused on the principle that to do so separates music and lyrics, which they saw as inseparable. When Chrysalis executives heard demos of their third and final record, Strong in the Sun, they insisted Sonny and Leo start over and record the whole album again–new studio, new producer, new backing musicians. The pair went along and rerecorded the album, but it turned out to be the last time they chose to work for a major label.
Paul McCartney was said to be a big fan of Strong in the Sun. Knowing this, Sonny and Leo wanted to ask Paul to produce the next Tir Na Nog single, but it never happened. They’d had enough of a demanding touring schedule and of compromising with a major record label. Although they’d already begun writing material for a fourth album, they instead broke off from Chrysalis and went back to Ireland, leaving a legacy of three cult-favorite albums of progressive folk. Not many artists drop their record company and leave the major label world on their own terms. It’s a testament to the quality of the music that several reissue labels–Edsel, BGO and, most recently, Esoteric Recordings–have licensed it over the years, and all three of Tir Na Nog’s albums remain in print to this day.
Welsh band The Pooh Sticks have been described as “rock’s most inside joke”. At nearly every turn they were slyly sending up rock mythology, whether by ironic image manipulation, outlandish marketing (putting out their own mock bootleg) or stealing bits of classic songs–copping a Who riff here, the guitar solo from Neil Young’s “Powderfinger” there, nicking the opening lines from Alice Cooper’s “Hello Hooray” or a chunk of Stephen Stills’ “Love the One You’re With”…but all in a spirit of fun, a sort of game of spot-the-stolen-bit for the knowing rock fan.
Their first release was a single. Their second? A box set. Ha ha. A couple of records later came the ironically titled Million Seller, which of course wasn’t. It was however their best, most polished album.
But sales were disappointing, probably because they’d built a reputation for a somewhat ragged, more guitar-heavy power pop sound on previous releases. This one may have been a little too poppy and polished for its own good. So, having no place on 1993 pop radio and not being what fans of the band expected, this album didn’t really find much of an audience at the time. It has since, however, earned a degree of acclaim as a pop classic.
As is the case with so many of the good ones, the Million Seller album is out of print.
The world didn’t really know what to make of Was (Not Was). They weren’t so much ahead of their time as from another planet. Even the band’s own singers didn’t always “get it”. But one of the weirdest and most wonderful albums to come out of the 80’s was this genius rollercoaster ride of dance pop, retro soul and avant-garde beatnik poetry. Or something.
Was (Not Was) were David Was (actual name: David Weiss) and Donald Was (born Donald Fagenson) who were, of course, the “Was”, and R&B singers Sir Harry Bowens and Sweet Pea Atkinson, who accounted for the “Not Was”. Got that?
Don Was went on to become one of pop’s most sought-after producers after overseeing Bonnie Raitt’s Grammy-winning Nick of Time LP. The list of artists Was has produced is as impressive as anyone in the biz: The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Elton John, Willie Nelson, Brian Wilson, George Clinton, Roy Orbison…no room here to do it justice and, anyway, it’s not the point of this post.
In 1988 old school pals Don and David Was set up shop very much like Steely Dan did in the previous decade. Their band was primarily a two-man songwriting partnership and brain trust that employed (in addition to Sweet Pea and Sir Harry) a revolving cast of singers and musicians to execute their grand plans. Over the course of the band’s 1980’s four-album run they used as vocalists: Mitch Ryder, Mel Tormé, Doug Fieger (of the Knack), Leonard Cohen, The Roches, Iggy Pop, Downtown Julie Brown, Ozzy Osbourne and Frank Sinatra Jr. Oh, and if I’m not mistaken, Marshall Cranshaw sang exactly one word (“feelings”). Even reading the album credits for this band is a weird revelation.
But basically two overly clever white Jewish guys (one with a name, Donald Fagenson, weirdly almost identical to Steely Dan’s Donald Fagan) wrote soul and dance music with lyrics dripping with a slick sickness, and a multiracial lineup helped give it the necessary authenticity of performance. Each singer had a specialty: Sweet Pea sang the gritty Motown-style workouts. Smooth-voiced Sir Harry took the seductive soul burners. And David Was himself performed bizarre, stream-of-altered-consciousness freakouts like “Earth to Doris” and the title track.
This album produced two top twenty hits, the #7 “Walk the Dinosaur” and #16 “Spy in the House of Love”. They were two of the “safest” songs on an otherwise fairly absurdist collection. Chuckle-worthy lyrics pop up frequently, including the following from “Shadow and Jimmy” which was co-written by Elvis Costello:
For men without women are like fish without water to swim in
With their eyes bugging out they flop on the beach/And look up at the girls who are just out of reach
An average songwriter could have written the first line. The rest is lyrical genius.
Of course, this album is too great to still be in print. Nobody likes a smart aleck. But you can find used copies for pennies. Or wait and hope that it’s reissued by the heroes of the music world, the respectful reissue labels.
Seldom given their due as one of the great classic British progressive rock bands, Camel produced some sublime work in their peak years, which intersected with Dark Side-era Floyd and the Peter Gabriel-fronted Genesis.
Moonmadness, Camel’s fourth LP and the last by their classic lineup (Andrew Latimer, guitar/vocals/flute; Peter Bardens, keyboards; Doug Ferguson, bass; Andy Ward, percussion) doesn’t boast the eccentricities of early Genesis or the druggy, languid, exquisite despair of Dark Side of the Moon. But this record stands alone in its gently intoxicating jazz rock fusion, a sound that evokes the grandeur of the ethereal and the celestial. Camel could rock, but most of this album was given to creating a downysoft bed of music textures, a fertile sound scape for the listener’s imagination, a magical musical dream.
Moonmadness lends itself to active or passive listening. This album’s soothing sound makes it one of my favorite things to fall asleep to. But it’s a layered collage of excellent musicianship for the engaged listener to appreciate. Latimer’s guitar playing is tasteful and impeccable–he’s really one of 70’s rock’s unsung guitar heroes. And once drummer Andy Ward’s tasty embellishments coax you to follow the drum track through “Song Within a Song” and “Another Night”, you’ll never be able to unhear it.
We should own music for every occasion and mood we cycle through in life. This isn’t dance music, workout music, or music to motivate you as you clean your house. But for the pensive Sunday afternoon, for the walk under starlight, for the minutes before you drift off to sleep, Moonmadness is the ideal thing. If you’re acquainted with the iconic 70’s art rock albums and want to go a little below the surface of the genre, give this one a fair listen. It might be that lost masterpiece that’s awaited your discovery.
Swede Pelle Carlberg named his Indie pop band after soccer great Edson Arantes do Nascimento, better known as Pelé. Don’t ask me why–probably just for kicks.
The band’s Every Day, Every Second is full of the kinds of melodies that you may wake up still hearing after listening the night before. It’s hauntingly tuneful stuff.
Pelle and company remind me of the Decemberists in several ways: first, Carlberg’s dialect and voice have a distinctiveness that I imagine could put some off, while endearing others. There’s also something in the imperfection of his reaching for the high notes and wavering just a bit here and there–I don’t think it’s meant to sound perfect, only to put across the song. And the voice certainly does that.
Also, there’s a European-ness just here and there in the melodies and instrumentation that the Decemberists share (despite being American).
Give this one three listens and it’ll have you. And if you like it, check out some of Pelle Carlberg’s solo stuff too:
Every Moment Has A Song 