Permanent Waves #12
I believe in magic, and I believe in dreams!
This week’s a bit on the lighter side, only five albums on the docket, but it’s a helluva five: we’ve got representation spanning no less than four continents, and some absolute gold to be found between them. Let’s mindset.
Grace Slick - Dreams
Psychedelia’s deadbeat stepmom returns from her ‘78 ousting from Jefferson Starship with an album of highly-produced AOR fluff that lives and dies on the vestiges of Slick’s mystical flower-child cred. The opener slash title track really gets there, too, addressing the world’s sexy witches and sons of bitches with all the faded hippie glamour to make them all believe in magic and dreams again (never mind that the tune was written for her by KISS hack Sean Delaney). Sideman Scott Zito contributes two solid tunes, too: the strident power ballad “Face to the Wind” shows off Slick’s inimitable voice, still in fighting form after a decade of vice and volatility, and “Angel of Night” is surprisingly tough and riffy, more credibly metal than I’d have ever guessed her capable of. Slick’s own songs are mostly pretty negligible; she gets by without embarrassing herself, which is honestly all she really needed to do. Grace walked so Stevie Nicks could run, and don’t you whippersnappers forget it!
VERDICT: FINE
Dollar Brand - African Marketplace
Universally appealing light-entertainment music. Back in 1974, Abdullah Ibrahim AKA Dollar Brand was working a style of whacked-out cosmic experimental jazz not too dissimilar to Sun-Ra, but the South African keyboardist has apparently undergone a similar mellowing to many of his British prog counterparts, and all for the better as far as I can tell. It’s comfortable, domestic stuff, very cheerful even when it isn’t quite upbeat. A few of these tunes could absolutely drive me up a wall as hold music, and, as always, I have to disclaim that I’m a complete novice regarding jazz, but I like the rumbling, booty-shaking conga, and the more languid stuff is rather pleasantly textured and thoughtful-seeming.
VERDICT: NICE
EPO - Down Town
Pretty damn good, maybe even great. For most of the 70s, Japan has been fertile soil for ambitious singers and songwriters seeking to synthesize pop and jazz. Nineteen-year-old chanteuse EPO is rooted firmly in this soil, aided on her debut LP by a battery of accomplished studio players who have cut their teeth on albums by big names like Haruomi Hosono and Tatsuro Yamashita. I don’t speak a word of Japanese, but this album makes me wish I did: it all just sounds so exciting and modern, like a stylish romantic comedy starring a lot of witty young actors. It’s undeniably polished and commercial, but I frankly wouldn’t have it any other way: her voice is mellifluous enough to wear polish well.
VERDICT: NICE
Shakin’ Street - Shakin’ Street
AMAZING. Everything vital and important about rock and roll. This Parisian metal crew’s 1978 debut Vampire Rock is even more amazinger, but this self-titled follow-up proves it wasn’t a fluke. Fabienne Shine has power pop x-factor in spades, a spiky vocal aggression and the open-hearted charisma to sell some of the clunkiest pidgin English you’ve ever heard. Few albums have reaffirmed rock as a universal language for me like this has: Shoutalong hooks like “No Time To Loose” “Solid As A Rock” and “So Fine” connect on a level beyond pure language. Former Dictators guitarist Ross the Boss adds a welcome bit of big apple ‘tude on lead, but rhythm machine Éric Lévi remains a dominant musical personality in the driving, simple riffs that form the album’s bedrock. This thing is Motorhead tough and Blondie fun, with a scrappy, underdog charm that both of those bands can only make do without. Throw up those devil horns, I won’t hear a word against it. Mindset of the week: I feel like revolution / My heart is rebellion
VERDICT: ZAMN
The Pop Group - For How Much Longer Will We Tolerate Mass Murder?
Not bad, but definitely a little unfocused and maybe even a little self-congratulatory— y’know, what am I supposed to do with a lyric like “Nixon and Kissinger should be tried for war crimes” besides nod and agree? They don’t even rhyme it with anything! That’s the problem with “art punk” like this: often, it isn’t actually all that artful, and the punk ethos can only support so much vulgar Marxism and so many great, great basslines before it needs an actual backbeat, and most of the dub-inspired rhythms here aren’t quite firm enough to hold up under The Pop Group’s withering survey of the cynical profiteers in charge of us all. Needs a few more tracks in the mold of that funky mutant-disco banger “We Are All Prostitutes”— you said it, maaaaaan.
VERDICT: FINE