Recommended Albums #16

07 May 2012 Leave a comment

by Ed Cyphers in Recommended Albums

HMS Donovan

Donovan: HMS Donovan (1971)

Come take a look with me

In an old-fashioned picture book…

Donovan beckons thusly on this 1971 two-LP, 28-song treasure, as he leads you back to the long-ago childhood in the English countryside that you never had. This album finds Donovan boldly following his muse away from chart-oriented pop (he’d never have another Top 40 single) toward fanciful folk aimed at children and adults who remember how to be child-like.

While it appeared to be (commercially speaking at least) a counterintuitive move, Donovan had spent most of a decade at the center of the pop music universe and was seemingly content to forget moving product in favor of moving the imagination. The less travelled path led to a truly beautiful, timeless creation.

HMS Donovan is a collection of English poems, nursery rhymes and children’s literature set to melody, alongside Donovan’s originals. The work of Lewis Carroll, Sydney Carter and W.B. Yeats is at home next to Donovan’s own beguiling “young Folk”. Where he marries melody to existing material, his tunes suit the lyrics perfectly, as if the two had been penned by the same hand–a mark of true songwriting genius. The acoustic guitar performances are sublime throughout.

It all combines for a truly magical listening experience, evoking childhood innocence and the wonder of an age when there seemed to be a bit of magic in the world beyond the garden gate.

Epic, Donovan’s label at the time, wanted no part of releasing HMS Donovan, so Pye’s “underground” Dawn imprint did so. My copy looked like ordinary black vinyl until you held it up to light and it turned a rich ruby-red color as the light shone through it.

This is one of the most unusual albums ever released by a major pop star, and I treasured my deluxe gatefold vinyl copy with its beautiful artwork and enclosed poster. Each song on the record was referenced somewhere in the double-sided cover painting, making it a treat for the ears and the eyes in the days when a young lad would pore over the cover art while awash in the musical magic.

Stylistically, the stripped-down acoustic arrangements ideally suit Donovan’s simple, beautiful songs. In fact, it was the albums which followed HMS that failed in this regard: Donovan’s subsequent (pop) albums in the 70’s suffer, without exception, from overproduction. He’d come back to a more folk-oriented songwriting style than in the Sunshine Superman 60’s but allowed producers to clutter the mixes with extraneous horns, keyboards and percussion that only detracted from the purity of the gorgeous finger-picked folk melodies he was putting across.

Concurrently, though, he was releasing live albums that were among his best output, because he stuck with spare arrangements for the live performances–acoustic guitar, vocal, harmonica and occasional flute or cello. Donovan is almost matchless as a musician in terms of his capacity to entertain solo with only an acoustic guitar. The studio albums where he stuck to this formula are naturally among his best.

On the album’s first two tracks, Donovan gives sympathetic musical settings to Lewis Carroll poems–both from the Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland sequel Through the Looking Glass.

“The Walrus and the Carpenter” is entertaining as anything, with sped-up and slowed voices, exaggerated English accents and false starts included.

“Jabberwocky” is the nonsense poem that gave several new words to the English language. No one “chortled” prior to this poem’s writing, because chortling wasn’t a thing. Likewise, it wasn’t known that “brillig” was a time of day, specifically 4:00 in the afternoon–the time to begin boiling things for dinner. There are countless more examples I could cite, but I’ll resist the temptation to go down that particular, uh, rabbit hole.

Celia of the Seals” was written in tribute to English former model and animal activist Celia Hammond, who went from modeling in furs to campaigning against the fur trade and animal cruelty. Donovan’s “vonya, vonya, vonya” in the song lyric is his attempt to imitate the call of the seals.

“The Voyage of the Moon” is the type of beautiful epic narrative folk song Donovan showed a particular talent for, and a perfect addition to a lullaby playlist for the little ones in your life.

The children’s music theme of HMS Donovan ensured that it would never be a big seller. Its 19th century English sensibility guaranteed it would never chart in America. But its charm and musical quality have given it cult classic status and many of Donovan’s most devoted fans cite it as a favorite.

Listen to: “The Walrus and the Carpenter”

Listen to: “Jabberwocky”

Listen to: “The Seller of Stars”

Listen to: “Celia of the Seals”

Listen to: “The Voyage of the Moon”

Listen to: “In an Old-Fashioned Picture Book”

Listen to: “The Song of Wandering Aengus”

Listen to: “Lord of the Dance”

See also: https://edcyphers.com/2012/02/22/songs-you-might-have-missed-18/

See also: https://edcyphers.com/2025/12/17/recommended-albums-102/

Recommended Albums #15

29 Apr 2012 Leave a comment

by Ed Cyphers in Recommended Albums Tags: ,

Body Talk

Robyn: Body Talk (2010)

Swedish dance-pop queen Robyn Miriam Carlsson released her Body Talk album in the form of three separate EPs over the course of 2010. Finally the complete album was released, combining most of the material from the three EPs.

The most attractive elements of Robyn’s music are precisely those not normally found in Eurodance pop: strong melodic hooks and a powerful emotional connection. This music evokes classic disco songs like “Don’t Leave Me This Way”, which packed an emotional punch. Thus it isn’t just great for dancing, but makes great listening too, as much as any other pop. Robyn is on a very short list of dance music artists I actually listen to for pleasure.

As for the artist, there’s a free-spirited freakiness about Robyn that, in terms of comparison to her stateside counterparts, is more Pink than Madonna. Her dancing isn’t the smoothly choreographed stuff typical of American dance-pop divas. In fact, it’s choreography that might make you wonder if there is any choreography, which I think fits the from-the-heart vibe of the songwriting.

In this interview snippet Robyn discusses her fellow Swedes ABBA and specifically that element that I’ve always felt was the magic formula of their music. Her words, in English:

…I like to work with contrasts. It can show in many ways, but i.e. the contrast between something that gives you energy to wanna dance to it and something that at the same time is also sad. That is exciting for me…

I think Abba is great. They may not belong to a genre oft associated with realness, but I really believe so in the highest sense. When you take their songs out of their productions, you’ll get an eye for what it was that made it all so big.

Both ABBA and Robyn’s music contain both sadness and an ebullient energy. ABBA’s gift for creating melodic pop earworms is undisputed, but somewhat overlooked at times are the autobiographical lyrics which chronicled the demise of two marriages within the group. Lyrical angst was always counterpoint to joyful melody, which is why their songs have a timeless appeal and aren’t considered today to be mere 70’s bubblegum. Robyn deals in the same type of sad “realness”, counterpointed similarly by melody and irresistible beats. Robyn wants you to take your angst to the dance floor. But her quieter readings of the same songs in alternate versions bring the sadness into stark relief, just in case you didn’t get that she isn’t some superficial Ke$ha. It’s as if she wants to show that her songs can be “taken out of their productions” just as she suggests we do with ABBA’s songs, to reveal the song’s soft center.

Not a fan of dance pop? You might want to give Body Talk a chance despite. Because under those dance beats you’ll hear a heart beating too.

Listen to: “Hang With Me”

Listen to: “Call Your Girlfriend”

Listen to: “Dancing On My Own”

“Hang With Me”–a live ballad version:

“Call Your Girlfriend” live on SNL:

Recommended Albums #14

13 Apr 2012 4 Comments

by Ed Cyphers in Recommended Albums Tags: , , ,

Lucinda Williams (Reis)

Lucinda Williams (1988)

Sometime around 1989 I went into Eide’s Records in Pittsburgh with money in hand and no clue what to buy. In the days, you see, before Amazon.com and Pandora there were limited ways to sample music before you bought. Maybe a friend would tell you about a record, or maybe you’d read a review. Or once in a while in desperation you might just take a flyer on a record based solely on its cover.

That’s what I did that day at Eides. Flipping through rows of records by artists I mostly didn’t know (theirs was a fairly Metal-centric selection) Lucinda Williams’ modestly adorned (to be charitable) album cover seemed to dare me not to give a shit about it; there was an indifference to it that intrigued me. Never had an album seemed to care so little if I found it interesting or not. My first thought was: “Eff you, Lucinda whoever-you-are. You don’t even care about your album cover–your music must really suck”.

But my next thought was: maybe this isn’t indifference or arrogance, but confidence. An album that does so little to pull you in with packaging must be all about substance, about what’s inside.

Was it ever.

Lucinda’s voice and songwriting amazed me from the first listen. My brother was quickly converted as well, and for a short time Lucinda seemed to belong to us alone. I named my dog Cinda…now there were three of us.

This wasn’t Lucinda Williams’ first album, but it was the first one that mattered, the one that created the template for what you still hear her doing today. And it’s still her finest album, despite what any Rolling Stone critic might have given more stars to. And I find it strange indeed that her best collection of songs remains out of print as of this writing while her more recent work is so highly praised.

I don’t think any subsequent album spawned more covers than Lucinda Williams. “The Night’s Too Long” was a country hit for Patty Loveless. Mary Chapin Carpenter’s take on “Passionate Kisses” was a smash single. And Tom Petty covered “Changed the Locks” for the soundtrack of She’s the One. Lucinda’s versions were superior in every case. She was, essentially, the female John Hiatt.

In the interest of full disclosure, I somewhat soured on Lucinda a couple of albums down the road from this one. The formula here, and on her next album (1992’s Sweet Old World) worked beautifully, and owed a lot to the production, lead guitar and vocal harmonies of Gurf Morlix, who seemed to be Williams’ perfect foil.

Perhaps Lucinda eventually feared that Gurf’s myriad contributions would suppress perception of her as an independent artist. But like a band member who think’s he’s outgrown his band and has to go solo, Lucinda broke up the musical partnership in search of something grittier, and more like that defiant album cover of ’88. She’s written many fine songs since, but her voice seems a little more of an affectation to me now, the voice of a singer who’s read too many reviews about how distinctively “authentic” or “world-weary” or “tough-but-vulnerable” her singing is. It could just be me–but beginning with 1998’s Car Wheels On a Gravel Road she seemed to be trying to be those things, where she’d just let it come out naturally in 1988.

It’s a hard record to find, but worth seeking out. It’s been reissued once; maybe some label will see the value in doing so again. Lucinda Williams is one of the best albums of its era. Before she went “a bit up herself”, a less contrived singing style, her best batch of songs, and the Gurf Morlix touch made this the best work of Lucinda’s career.

Don’t miss: “Side of the Road”

Listen to: “Passionate Kisses”

Listen to: “Am I Too Blue”

Listen to: “Big Red Sun Blues”

Listen to: “Crescent City”

Recommended Albums #13

03 Apr 2012 1 Comment

by Ed Cyphers in Recommended Albums Tags: , , , ,

Flying Colors (Limited Edition Digipak)

Flying Colors (2012)

In 1982, four estimable musicians, each of whom had been a member of a highly regarded progressive rock band, joined forces to release a record that sounded less “progressive” and more like mainstream arena rock than any of their previous work. Though critics were underwhelmed, Asia went quadruple-platinum and was number one for over two months.

Thirty years later, five of the most revered members of progressive rock’s current scene have teamed up in releasing a CD that is similarly more accessible than any of the members’ previous bands’ prog-niche music. And while I wouldn’t predict a number one album–much less multi-platinum sales–this might just be the best new rock album I’ll hear all year.

Drummer Mike Portnoy (Dream Theater), keyboardist Neal Morse (Spock’s Beard), guitarist (and no relation to Neal) Steve Morse (Deep Purple, Kansas), bassist Dave LaRue (Dixie Dregs) and vocalist Casey McPherson (Alpha Rev) have created what sounds like a classic rock album from days past. If you’re looking for first-rate musicianship, it’s plentiful here–minus a lot of gratuitous showing-off of chops. Nor do proggish tendencies hold sway: only one song clocks in at a prog-like 12 minutes. Most of these songs are concise and radio ready. Solos are about note selection and melody rather than flash and complexity. The ace vocals of pop singer McPherson give the album the final push into mainstream rock territory. Influences are diverse enough with five songwriting contributors that nothing sounds blatantly derivative. And while it’s hardly Christian rock, you may notice some positive messages and family values subtly seeping through too.

Hopefully Flying Colors will be better received by critics than Asia were. Of course, these guys don’t carry the weight of the reputations of legendary bands such as Yes, King Crimson and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. As for fans, their response is already overwhelmingly positive, and with good reason. This is a remarkable collection of pop/rock songs by five guys who sound like they want to come out from the shadow of their legacies and step into the bright lights. Can they find a mainstream audience, chart success, maybe a hit single? As Asia sang 30 years ago, only time will tell.

Listen to: “The Storm”

Listen to: “Everything Changes”

Don’t miss: “Fool in My Heart”

Listen to: “Better Than Walking”

Recommended Albums #12

19 Mar 2012 Leave a comment

by Ed Cyphers in Recommended Albums Tags: ,

 

Pet Shop Boys: Yes (2009)

Sometimes we miss out on some great music because of our tendency to relegate an artist to a particular era in our minds.

If you think of Donovan, for example, as an artist of the 60’s–since he last hit the top 40 in 1969–you might not realize he recorded some great live albums, most of which he delivered in the 1970’s and later.

If you only think of the late 70’s when you think of great Warren Zevon music, you probably missed a career highlight when the sobered-up Zevon released the cracking Sentimental Hygiene album of 1987.

If you thought the only work of Graham Parker’s that mattered was his early albums with the Rumour, you’d find 1988’s The Mona Lisa’s Sister an unexpected treat. 

If you lost track of Asia when the 80’s ended, you won’t be aware that they may have turned in their finest album ever when the original lineup reconvened for 2008’s Phoenix. And if you think Prince hasn’t released anything good since the late 90’s…actually, you’re spot on in that case–but I digress.

pet-shop

Pet Shop Boys’ run of US top twenty singles began in 1986 and was over by ’88–a short peak era for a fairly iconic act. So to many (myself included) they existed mostly in a small 80’s dance-pop box. They do have their loyal fans though; they’ve continued releasing albums every few years and in the UK none has charted lower than #7.

But to the mainstream American record-buying public, they’re an act from another era; they may as well be Culture Club.

But some bands continue releasing quality material, or even release their best material, long after their fifteen minutes of limelight is over–making all the impact of the proverbial tree falling in the forest. And Yes is, to my ears, the best album Pet Shop Boys have ever made. Had it come around in, say, 1989 it would have been all over American radio and had the audience it deserves.

Any band that’s been around for decades is subject, on the release of something new, to the scrutiny of whether it “stands up” to their older material. Not only does this stand up, but in some ways it is superior. Pet Shop Boys have never employed a lot of harmony vocals; here, ecstatic choruses unfold in full color as never before.

Whereas for most artists the peak of sales coincides with a peak of artistic vision and creativity, followed by a long slow decline into mediocrity, in the case of PSB it’s more like they’ve only refined their songcraft over the years. And now, rather unexpectedly, 20 years on from their peak of record sales, they’ve reached the height of their record-making skill.

Even someone who never cared particularly for their old stuff could appreciate this album. If you’ve never been a fan of Pet Shop Boys, give Yes a chance to turn you into one.

Listen to “Did You See Me Coming”

Listen to “All Over the World”

Listen to “Love Etc.”

Listen to “Pandemonium”

See also: https://edcyphers.com/2019/04/21/songs-you-may-have-missed-636/

Recommended Albums #11

09 Mar 2012 2 Comments

by Ed Cyphers in Recommended Albums Tags: ,

Summer of Lust

Library Voices: Summer of Lust (2011)

This is one of those sneaky ones. If you have it repeating in the car you’ll first notice it’s providing a great soundtrack for the drive–sprightly middle-weight indie rock that compels you (weather permitting) to start rolling down windows. Then little bits of lyric float by on an appealing melody and you find yourself hitting “repeat” while you reach for the lyric sheet because they just nailed a turn of phrase or thought. What? you’re listening to a downloaded version on your iPod and have no lyric sheet? We’ll put aside your contributing to the demise of the pop album for the moment as I quote my lyric booklet (which didn’t come with your downloaded version):

All my friends are buying diamonds for their girls and bringing children into this world/Signing their names to a home on land they captured/Me? I’m still writing songs I’m scared you’ll hear some day

(from “If Raymond Carver Was Born in the 90’s”)

And…

It was Paris, 1949. It was love in a better time/Before photoshopped hips and collagen smiles, when longing meant more than a drunk dial/That’s why I’m always coming back to you

(from “Be my Juliette Gréco, Paris 1949”)

Literary references are sprinkled throughout, but don’t have the effect of an irritant (I’m looking at you, Sting). “Be My Juliette Gréco, Paris 1949” is like an energetic update of “Caroline No”. Honestly the whole album, with its propulsive rhythms and bright melodies, just sounds like summertime’s soundtrack to me.

In fact, it sounds a whole lot more like a great summer record than one from the summer previous that elicited description as a “great summer record” with a “Beach Boys vibe”. That record was Best Coast’s Crazy For You, and I think the shoreline cover art and fuzzy “retro” sound may have convinced some people it was something that, to my ears at least, it clearly was not. Though I feel sure Summer of Lust will sell far fewer copies than that album, this Canadian 10-piece has it all over Best Coast in songwriting terms. So with all that lazy, hazy, crazy just a few months off, it’s time to start that bikini diet and pick up Summer of Lust.

Listen to: “If Raymond Carver Was Born in the 90’s”

 

Don’t miss: “Reluctant Readers make Reluctant Lovers”

 

Listen to: “Be My Juliette Gréco, Paris 1949”

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries