Recommended Albums #19

08 Jun 2012 3 Comments

by Ed Cyphers in Recommended Albums Tags: , , ,

Red Octopus

Jefferson Starship: Red Octopus (1975)

Of all the albums made by Jefferson Airplane and its splinter bands Jefferson Starship and (cough, spit) Starship, Red Octopus was the biggest seller of them all. It spent an amazing 87 weeks on the Billboard album chart and, between September and December of 1975, went to number one four different times.

The LP’s success, of course, was driven by the massive hit single “Miracles”, an epic Marty Balin love song that the rest of the band didn’t even want to record, fearing the damage the romantic ballad would do their credibility (see: Styx’s “Babe” for reference). “Miracles”, however, spent three weeks at #3 and went on to earn over two million radio plays and classic status.

But it’s follow-up single, “Play On Love” only went to #49 and is far less widely known today, although it is one of Grace Slick’s finest efforts as a songwriter and a vocalist. It’s my opinion the song’s deviation from standard verse-chorus patterns both made it a more interesting listen and hurt its chart performance. If there’s one thing vital to a hit single it’s predictability, unless you’re going to write “Bohemian Rhapsody” of course. And just when you’re expecting a second full chorus, Slick teases you with one line of it before taking you in another direction, ultimately making you wait through a guitar solo and third verse before you finally get the chorus hook again.

And that’s the pattern throughout this LP: the lack of pattern. The song that follows “Play On Love”, Balin’s “Tumblin'”, contains only one extended chorus-like hook, never again repeated. And the album’s grand closer, “There Will Be Love” opens with its anthemic chorus, then throws predictability away in favor of stringing sections together in a more intuitive, suite-like way. I’m reminded of great early 70’s McCartney singles like “Another Day”, “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey” and “Band On the Run”. A competent songwriter knows to write verse-chorus-and-repeat. An inspired one goes beyond the limitations of the template.

It’s idiosyncracies like these that separate a great rock band from a mere pop act. Perhaps if this were an Air Supply album it would have had more hit singles, but because it was Jefferson Starship at their peak, its more atypical structures raise it to the level of a true classic, never old to my ears.

Listen to: “Play On Love”

Listen to: “Al Garimasu (There is Love)”

Listen to: “There Will Be Love”

See also: https://edcyphers.com/2012/10/03/songs-you-may-have-missed-185/

See also: https://edcyphers.com/2024/07/21/songs-you-may-have-missed-747/

Recommended Albums #18

14 May 2012 Leave a comment

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

These Humble Machines

BT: These Humble Machines (2011)

BT (Brian Transeau from Rockville, Maryland) is a classically trained musician who attended the Berklee College of Music at age 15. He is also widely regarded as one of the forefathers of today’s electronic music and a creator of the house music sub-genre known as “trance”. If that weren’t enough, he has developed revolutionary new music programming and software technologies and, over the course of a 15-year career, worked with such biggies as Peter Gabriel, David Bowie, Sting, Seal, Britney Spears and Madonna.

These Humble Machines is a single-disc truncation of BT’s two-disc These Hopeful Machines album, which was nominated for a Grammy for Best Electronic/Dance album. For the non-trance fan, it’s a more palatable distillation of the longer work, trimming songs of 8- and 11-minutes duration to a more digestible 4-to-6 or so.

As for the “Electronic/Dance album” tag, that’s somewhat misleading in and of itself. Because if you’re not a fan of the genre and BT in particular, what you won’t know is that this is an album which can be appreciated as much or more for its rock and pop elements as for its electronic leanings. Its fusion of styles is unique in BT’s catalogue and possibly in all of contemporary pop. While some songs (especially the instrumental tracks) are indeed electronic and trance music extravaganzas, at least half of These Humble Machines consists of pop rock or pop prog songs with linear lyrics and a rock backbeat overlaid with electronic flourishes.

I’m reminded of when Yes (considered dinosaurs even then) burst back on the scene in 1983 with the Trevor Horn-produced 90125 album and a leaner, contemporized sound that included keyboard sampling. BT has created, in some ways, a modern equivalent–similarly offering up (what are to my ears at least) rock songs topped off with colorful avant-pop sprinkles. I’m not sure if BT has made rock music for the house music audience or house music for rock fans. But, approaching this record from a rock fan’s perspective, I hear propulsive songs with ecstatic choruses in musical settings that feature electronic sounds and keyboards mostly assuming the traditional rock guitar role. And the result is fresh and exhilarating.

“Suddenly” might best typify the album’s blending of genres. “Always” sounds to me, lyrically, like a “Born to Run” update (minus the motorbike motif). And “Love Can Kill You” seems content to simmer in its own groove for a minute and a half before suddenly exploding into a flat-out killer chorus.

“Best Electronic/Dance Album”? I can’t speak to that. But if there were a category called “Best Album for Blaring Out an Open Window at High Volume”, this album would have certainly deserved that Grammy.

Listen to: “Suddenly”

Listen to: “Always”

Listen to: “Love Can Kill You”

Recommended Albums #17

10 May 2012 Leave a comment

by Ed Cyphers in Recommended Albums Tags: ,

nether

Dan Fogelberg: Nether Lands (1977)

Though he hit higher subsequent commercial peaks with greeting-card-sentimental pop such as “Same Old Lang Syne”, “Leader of the Band” and “Longer”, Dan Fogelberg hit his artistic high water mark with the May 1977 release of Nether Lands. Despite its certified double platinum status, this is an album unknown to many who are familiar with the ubiquitous radio staples that followed.

Nether Lands followed a songwriting dry spell for Fogelberg–a period of months in which he produced no new music. But when he emerged from dormancy with newly ambitious, classically-influenced and elaborately arranged songs such as the album’s fully-orchestrated lead title track, it seemed he’d only been in a sort of artistic cocoon, undergoing a transformation from a very good folk singer-songwriter into a bolder, more poised composer with many more shades in his palette.

The full-on orchestral treatment can overwhelm a trite pop song. Here, in songs such as the title track and the set-closing “False Faces” the writing is on par with and deserving of its ornate musical trappings.

But the quieter moments shine too. Sublime ballad “Dancing Shoes” and the flute-laced jazz pop of “Give Me Some Time” seem to possess a subtlety and grace uncommon for a 26-year-old writer. Dan was flexing new muscles here, and would continue to do so on his next release, an album made up mostly of instrumentals that would stretch to encompass even more stylistic territory.

Despite the lack of a top 40 hit single, the album contains some of Fogelberg’s finest and most fully-realized compositions. (One is reminded of Elton John’s 1971 Tumbleweed Connection LP which, despite yielding no hits, may be Sir Elton’s best overall album).

Albums like this are the reason I dismiss no musical category or genre wholesale. So-called “soft rock” or “lite rock”, like any other species of music, contains both good and bad. Nether Lands is one of those albums that proves that soft rock was, and is, capable of greatness.

Listen to: “Nether Lands”

Listen to: “Once Upon a Time”

Listen to: “Dancing Shoes”

Listen to: “Lessons Learned”

Listen to: “Give Me Some Time”

See also: https://edcyphers.com/2012/05/31/songs-you-may-have-missed-115/

See also: https://edcyphers.com/2013/09/19/songs-you-may-have-missed-476/

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/

See also: https://edcyphers.com/2026/01/23/songs-you-may-have-missed-816/

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”

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