Planxty - Live Dublin 1972 / Come West Along the Road 1973 / Live on Aisling Ghael Special 1979

 Planxty - Live Dublin 1972

 

 Planxty - Come West Along the Road 1973

 

 Planxty - Live on Aisling Ghael Special 1979

 

Planxty’s rebirth was a dream come true for band and fans alike – and the good news is that there’s more to come. Earlier this year trad/folk legends Planxty reconvened for a series of sell-out concerts at Dublin’s Vicar Street. It was first time that the original line-up of Christy Moore, Donal Lunny, Andy Irvine and Liam O’Flynn had appeared on a stage together in over 20 years (apart from a low-key appearance in Ennis the previous October.) The success of the shows exceeded all expectations and then some, with over 10,000 people attending. For those lucky enough to be there it was an unforgettable musical experience and a long overdue reminder of the debt owed to Planxty for the current healthy state of Irish music For those who missed out on the shows, all is not lost as they were recorded and filmed and are now available on CD and DVD while more gigs are planned in December.

Three-quarters of the band are on-hand here to discuss the whole experience. So how does it really feel to be a going concern again after all these years?

Donal Lunny: “Unbelievable. It’s far better than any one of us had expected. Our main misgiving before we got back together was, ‘Will the spark be there like it used to be?’ It turned out it was. We met up for rehearsals last October and did that tiny gig in Clare but that was just a toe in water to see how things would work out. We didn’t realise just how good Vicar Street would be.

“We proved that we could still capture that energy which is so much a part of being in a young band,” says Liam O’Flynn. “Not once during the twelve gigs did it feel like we were going through the motions or on automatic pilot. What worried me initially was the thought that we might be playing to an audience of people of our own age because when you think about it, you’d need to be over 50 to have seen the band in their early days”, says Andy Irvine. “But it wasn’t like that at all. Leagues O’Toole’s documentary had put us in context for a younger generation so there was a good cross section of all ages at the shows.”

The band appeared to be extremely well rehearsed and stuck to a fairly rigid set-list for most of the shows. Clearly they had done a lot of preparation leading up to the gigs?

Donal Lunny: “Probably even more so than when we started. Christy complimented me on my punctuality, which wasn’t my best quality in the early days. Actually, if anybody drove the notion of us getting back together and doing it properly it was Christy.”

Andy Irvine: “We’d rehearsed quite a bit but you can rehearse until you’re blue in the face – when you get up on a stage it’s a different matter. The venue helped hugely – Vicar Street is the best gig of that size in town. I remember the first night before we went on and Christy was looking through the curtains at the audience and he said ‘Jaysus it’s like a big folk club out there.”

Liam O’Flynn: “It’s a lovely cross between a concert hall and a club. The welcome we got when we got out onstage just blew me away. It was unbelievable. I think it’s great that a band can play music and get an audience like that.”

The audience reaction was overwhelmingly positive, as was the press coverage. Were they surprised at how much they seemed to be missed by everyone?

Donal Lunny: “The thing is the early audiences spanned every generation – there were kids, old aged pensioners, hippies, rockers but they were all lovely to us. The new audience was the same with people of all ages out there.”

Liam O’Flynn: “I think I heard one woman saying she’d die happy. People had come from Australia, America, and all over Europe specifically for the shows. We certainly didn’t expect that.”

Andy Irvine: “I thought a lot of the reviews didn’t reflect the audience reaction – one journalist called us four grumpy old men. But there was a man who was encountered in the toilet who wiped his eyes and said ‘Jesus Christ I’ll have to emigrate again!”

Donal Lunny: “Davy Hammond, that great man from Belfast, said to me ‘You’re putting people back in touch with their lives’. Part of it is nostalgia. The times that we were in existence before are like islands to people and music is one of the things that evokes memories.

Was it always the intention to record and film the reunion shows for subsequent release?

Donal Lunny: “I don’t remember there being any great urgency about recording them in the early stages. It probably would’ve made us too nervous knowing that we were taping the shows. But it made sense in the end. And we knew we were in good hands with Philip King. When it comes to filming something like this he is the best there is. He just knows how to record music without disturbing what’s happening onstage. In fact we didn’t even notice the cameras in the venue. It was all set up and we just got out there and did the gig.”

Andy Irvine: “There were cameras there? I don’t remember seeing any cameras at all.”

Others have been involved in Planxty over the years, including people like Bill Whelan or Paul Brady. Was there any suggestion that they would join them onstage for some of the shows?

Donal Lunny: “No, that never came up. It was the simplest thing to do it with just the four of us. There were practicalities of us getting back together and we didn’t want to bite off more than we could chew. What made it easier was the fact that the four of us got together on a social basis once a year for the last six or seven years, just to meet up and have the craic. It was out of that, that the notion of doing something came together.”

Liam O’Flynn: “I feel that most people regard the original Planxty line-up as the best. I know I do myself.”

What about the future? Are there any more gigs planned and is there a chance Planxty might record some new material?

Donal Lunny: “We have time set aside at the end of the year and the door is open but we’re not going to put ourselves under pressure.”

Liam O’Flynn: “It’s so easy to find yourself under pressure. If you open the door it comes flying through and a lot of people want a piece of you. Then suddenly other things take over and that’s the end of it.”

Andy Irvine: “We’ve no plans for an album but we’re not totally dismissing it. The whole attitude of the band is to take one step at a time. December is the next step. And we’ve put in motion the rehearsal of new material by then. A couple of the pieces are from the Planxty repertoire – things we haven’t recorded and there might be something new – who knows?”

From: https://andyirvinenews.wordpress.com/2017/07/13/archive-2004-hotpress-interview-with-planxty/

 

i Häxa

i Häxa, taken from the Swedish term for “witch”, is a project comprised of vocalist Rebecca Need-Menear (Anavae) and producer/instrumentalist Peter Miles (highlights include producer for Architects and co-producer on Tesseract’s War of Being) and blends art rock, trip-hop, ambient, industrial, and dark folk influences together into one heady brew. Originally conceived as a single flowing suite, but released as four EPs, and now fused into a single album, there’s a few different ways to listen to the full i Häxa. Everything flows but there are recognisable song formations, distinct quarterings within that flow—at the same time, it makes little sense to listen to, for example, “The Well” without listening to “Fog of War” because the two are parts of a seamless whole.
Swollen layers of synths and pulsating backbeats, graceful piano and lamenting strings form the instrumental backbone of i Häxa with Need-Menear’s sinuous, high-toned voice—in timbre, a more powerful, just-going-through-a-phase sister to Magdalena Bay’s Mica Tenenbaum—sojourning from vulnerable (“Circle”) to threnodic (“The Well”) to boisterous (“Destroy Everything”). Around half the tracks feature spoken word recitations from Need-Menear—the dread monologue of “Fog of War”, the rhythmic poetry that drives “Inferno”, the venomous whispers on “Army”—and her deft ear for enunciation, her oratory range, and paganic lyricism keep the listener hanging on every word. Where spoken word in music all too often falls flat with ropey oration and lazy samples, for i Häxa it’s a vital and astonishingly successful texture.
I could wax lyrical about each track for a while, but suffice it to say that the flow and complexity of the arrangements is pleasing, playing with time signatures (I still can’t work out the beat on “Eight Eyes”), manipulated vocals (“Vessel”, “Sapling”), and reprises (“Circle” builds on a piano melody first explored in “Last at the Table” while repurposing lyrics first heard on “Sapling”). On a song-to-song basis, i Häxa consistently impress, but it’s the interweaving overall structure that sells it, the consistent quartering, the effortless flow, the reprisal of motifs—sometimes familiar, sometimes transformed—all coming together to form something holistic. Despite marrying analogue and digital, i Häxa ultimately feels strangely natural, as though this energy always existed somewhere and Need-Menear and Miles became conduits for its message. That might be a weird metaphor but it’s one of the highest compliments I can pay to music; something that feels less like it was created and more like it always existed in some form and has only just found articulation.  From: https://theprogressivesubway.com/2024/10/28/review-i-haxa-i-haxa/  

The Jayhawks - Waiting for the Sun - Live 1993

The liner notes to the Jayhawks' career-making 1992 album, Hollywood Town Hall, were written by friend-of-the-band Joe Henry, then a struggling musician himself (and now one of the most prolific producers around). In just a few short paragraphs, Henry evokes not so much the music made by the Minneapolis band, but presumably what the music was about: wayward drifters with sad histories who disappeared, hitting the road in search of better times. The Jayhawks were never so down on their luck as their characters, but they were drifters just the same, ostensibly headquartered in the Twin Cities but always traveling to the next show and the next show after that. In the late 1980s and early 90s, they stayed on the road almost constantly, paying their dues and gradually playing to larger and larger audiences. They were alt-country merely by coincidence, gestating in isolation and predating the movement by several years. The band incorporated a wide range of styles and influences into their stately Americana, not just country and certainly not punk, but classic rock, folk, power pop, and lots of feedback from Gary Louris fuzzbox-filtered guitar-- all seemingly absorbed with every mile of road traveled and every city played.
What the Jayhawks never drifted toward was success-- at least not the kind that they and their fans felt the music warranted. Even so, a full 25 years after forming, the Jayhawks don't come across as also-rans, which is itself a minor miracle. Hollywood Town Hall and Tomorrow the Green Grass still live and breathe, and these two new, long-awaited reissues sound like the logical conclusions of a legacy-shaping campaign that began with 2009's career retrospective, Music From the North Country. Neither of these albums was a hit, exactly, but they have endured to become something more impressive. They show the Jayhawks unmoored from any one particular trend or style, devising new ways to combine roots and rock without skimping on either.
Hollywood Town Hall is, appropriately, a good road-trip album, moving from pre-dawn departure ("Waiting for the Sun") to a hard-won destination ("Martin's Song", with its chorus, "I've been working all night, I go long into day"). Louris' guitar cuts elegant swathes through these songs, and the new remaster brings out the rich tones in the instruments themselves, especially Benmont Tench's organ on "Crowded in the Wings". The songs have a greater live feel, but Hollywood Town Hall remains primarily a vocal album, with the harmonies of Louris and Olson at the center. Their approach is based on old-time country sibling acts like the Louvin and Stanley Brothers, yet those tightly intertwined vocals are reset in a dusty, electrified setting, marking perhaps the Jayhawks' greatest innovation.  From: https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/14940-hollywood-town-hall-expanded-edition-tomorrow-the-green-grass-legacy-edition/

Sarah McLachlan - Into the Fire - Live 1992

Fateful is how Sarah McLachlan describes the night of her first performance as a member of a high school rock band. On that night, she fell in love with the joy of making music for a happy, appreciative audience—and Mark Jowatt, soon to be head of Artists and Repertoire for Nettwerk Records, fell in love with young Sarah’s voice. She declined his offer to travel to Vancouver to record a demo, deciding (at her mum’s insistence) to complete high-school and pursue her dreams of attending art school; but Sarah’s unforgettable voice had made a lasting impression. Two years later, Nettwerk offered a five-record contract and at the age of 19, Sarah recorded her first album, Touch. Her second album, Solace, came in 1991. She completed a world tour in 1994 in support of her third highly acclaimed and best selling album, Fumbling Toward Ecstacy. In conversation, Sarah is as outspoken as she is introspective, and her personality is as down-to-earth as her singing voice is angelic. Muse spoke to Sarah for our premier issue cover story as she waited to catch a flight to Germany from the East Coast.

Was performing on stage and being in the spotlight something you once dreamed about?

I think when I was seventeen, the first time I was up on stage and I was singing and I looked down and people were smiling and dancing… that is probably one of the highlights of my life. I remember that so vividly. And so I do love being up onstage and I love that adulation. I do. (laughing) I’d be stupid to say I didn’t. But at the same time, typically I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to be able to take that hat off when I walk off stage and just be me again. It doesn’t work like that, and that’s been the wildest thing and the hardest thing to deal with. The more people who know me, or know my music, the less time I have to myself.

When you first started writing songs, were you surprised and impressed at what you could do? Did you say to yourself, “Wow, that’s really good!”?

I think I was more impressed when other people liked them. Because I was still in the place of really needing to be told I was OK. The songs were a part of me, so if the songs were OK, then I was OK, and I needed that. I still do to a certain degree, although now I know much more whether they’re good or not on my own.

Do you practice your chops on the guitar?

Ahh, chops… I don’t really have any chops! (laughs) I have my favorite voicings that I tend to go back to all the time if you can call those chops. I don’t really practice, I just play all the time.

I guess that is practice. And songwriting is such a craft in itself.

Yeah, that’s pretty separate from it. Although— it is and it isn’t. For me, songwriting is just completely instinctual. I just pick up an instrument and go. I’ll play and hum and sing, and things either come out or they don’t.

The album Fumbling Toward Ecstacy is so confident. The songs are very conversational, as though you were talking to a friend or writing a letter.

Well, they’re definitely strong conversations with myself. I think the albums have progressed in the sense that I’ve gotten to know myself a lot better. I think the songs will become stronger because the songs are me. The songs are about me trying to figure out myself to a large degree. Even if it’s putting myself into someone else’s shoes to portray a character, if I’m talking about a situation completely outside of myself, it’s how do I see this emotionally or how does this affect me. Am I saying something really tragic or funny or whatever. You relate everything to your own life first and foremost and then as you’’re dissecting it, you’’re trying to figure it out and relate it to your own past knowledge and understanding or lack of understanding.

I think it’s ironic that the album is called “Fumbling” because there is a real noticeable sense of confidence in everything. Even in the quality of the melodies.

Well, for me the whole album was about losing control; by learning so much control that I could completely lose myself and not be afraid. A lot of the time making the record was spent talking about the head-space that we were in and discussing ideas and just trying to be really strong and happy. When something was bothering us, we’d work through that before we started writing or recording, because we recorded everything basically, whatever came out. Often the first things that came out were the things that ended up on the record, whether it’s the first try at electric guitar or first piano take or first vocal take. In many instances, it’s the first dummy track. So it’s a real learning process for me to let go of editing myself, to let go of pre-thinking what I was doing, or listening to something for the wrong reasons versus the right reasons, and questioning that. So for that, there were a lot of mistakes that were made, but the mistakes were what made it great. You know, I wasn’t being a perfectionist anymore. I think a lot of art is done that way. In photography or whatever… you did the wrong film stop or whatever and the most beautiful picture in the world comes out of that mistake that you thought would be a total disaster.

Is the song sequence on the album something that you talked over with your producer Pierre Marchand?

Yeah. We made a lot of tapes, and did a lot of sequencing experiments, and played through them all to see what fit best. With Pierre and me it’s quite a strong collaborative effort from the beginning. You know, I write the basics of the songs, but I go in with him and they take shape.

You ended the album Solace with “Wear Your Love Like Heaven” It’s such a bright uplifting note.

Yeah, that wasn’t my idea.

Really?

Well, actually, putting it on the end of the record was my idea. Arista wanted it somewhere smack in the middle of the record. I recorded it for another reason altogether as part of a Donovan compilation, but they thought the record needed something hopeful… (laughs) so we compromised and I put it at the end. But I don’t think it makes much sense on the record personally.

It does stand alone in a way.

Yeah, I didn’t like it for that reason, but that’s just my own personal thing of wanting the record to be “this is what it is.” Yeah, it’s depressing, a lot of it, but…

The brightest song on the new album, “Ice Cream,” certainly comes before some pretty heavy songs that leave you feeling a certain way.

Yeah, because “Hold On” is one of the heaviest in my mind, and I had to counterbalance it by putting “Ice Cream” in there. I figured, “Ah, I gotta ease up a little there momentarily”. (laughs) But even “Ice Cream” has its pensive chorus. Like, “this is really amazing, but if we fuck it up, there’s a lot of hell to pay.”

From: https://museinterviews.com/index.php/2018/08/21/sarah-mclachlan-1995/

Page & Plant - When the Levee Breaks

No Quarter is a live album by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, both formerly of English rock band Led Zeppelin. It was released by Atlantic Records on 31 October 1994. The long-awaited reunion between Jimmy Page and Robert Plant occurred on a 90-minute "UnLedded" MTV project, recorded in Morocco, Wales and London.
The reunion event notably lacked the presence of bassist and keyboardist, John Paul Jones, thus deviating from a comprehensive band reunion. Jones remained uninformed of this reunion by his former bandmates. Subsequently, Jones conveyed his discontent regarding the decision of Plant and Page to christen the album after "No Quarter", a track predominantly attributed to his compositional prowess.
In addition to acoustic renditions, the album features a reworking of Led Zeppelin songs featuring a Moroccan string band and Egyptian orchestra supplementing a core group of rock and roll musicians, along with four Middle-Eastern and Moroccan-influenced songs: "City Don't Cry", "Yallah" (or "The Truth Explodes"), "Wonderful One", and "Wah Wah".
Several years later, Plant reflected on the collaboration very positively:
The will and the eagerness with Unledded were fantastic and [Page] was really creative. Jimmy and I went in a room and it was back. His riffs were spectacular. To take it as far as we did, and the tour we did – it's one of the most ambitious and mind-altering experiences.  From: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Quarter:_Jimmy_Page_and_Robert_Plant_Unledded

Wolf Alice - Freazy

In the dozen years since Wolf Alice first formed in London, England, the quartet has become one of the most beloved bands in the alternative rock scene. Known for their fearless live performances and intense, emotive, and highly melodic songs, they’ve earned rave reviews for their three EPs and three studio albums. Along the way, they’ve won some of the most prestigious music awards (Mercury Prize, Brit Awards, NME Awards), and been nominated for many more. Their successful streak continued when their latest album, 2021’s Blue Weekend, hit the top spot on the U.K. Albums Chart and landed on many year-end “best of” lists. With pandemic restrictions easing, the band is kicking off an extensive North American tour this month. Calling from England, frontwoman Ellie Rowsell discusses what it’s like to hit the road again, how she feels about receiving so many accolades, and her theories about why Wolf Alice inspires such fervent fandom.

How are you feeling as you’re about to set off on such an extensive run of tour dates?

ELLIE ROWSELL: I feel like it’s exciting every time. It will be nice to travel after so long being in one place, and to see different places and different people and play lots of shows. I think we’re going to a lot of places that we’ve not been before. I mean, we don’t get to see the places that much – you get there and you play a show and you leave – but you do what you can, and it’s quite a nice way of doing it. We’re playing a set at the moment which feels really good. It’s mostly Blue Weekend, but it’s got stuff from the other two albums, as well. I think we’re having a lot of fun performing. In England, we’ve got a really good light show, but I don’t think we can afford to bring that over to America. That’s a shame, but I think it will be a real performance-based show, which I actually think is better, in a way.

You seem to have an especially enthusiastic fan base. Why do you think that is?

ELLIE ROWSELL: I think one of the things is that we’ve never tried to be too cool. In the sense of, if you were to see us play absolutely awfully – it’s there on YouTube. We didn’t wait until we were really good to start playing shows – we just went out and did it. You can see us with all our awful haircuts and making fools of ourselves. And in a way, that makes people know we’re pretty normal. Maybe it’s that we’ve played a lot of shows. That’s the best way to connect with people. If you are lucky enough to be able to do that, then it’s a good way of building a fan base. It’s quite an organic way.

You’ve gotten a lot of big awards– what did you think when that started happening?

ELLIE ROWSELL: I think life goes on as normal, no matter how successful you are or what your job is. We all have these main concerns, like, “Are my family okay? Do my friends like me? Do I look okay?” We all have the same concerns, and life goes on as normal. When [awards first] happened I didn’t really understand what it meant. I still don’t really understand, but I think when you’re in a band it’s different than when you’re a solo artist because you’re four egos, and you ground each other. I think when the music takes precedence over everything else, that is mainly what grounds you.

How’d you know you should be a musician in the first place?

ELLIE ROWSELL: Well, I enjoyed it, is the main thing. I just went to gigs. I enjoyed watching music, and when I tried my own hand at it, it felt good. You can only go on that, really. And hopefully have people around you that can encourage you.

Wolf Alice has a pretty distinctive sound – how did you create that?

ELLIE ROWSELL: That’s very nice of you to say. I don’t know if it’s true. I feel like a lot of people will tell you that we sound like this, we sound like that. But I think we are steered by songwriting rather than what kind of band we want to be in. I don’t know if that was intentional. But if I am feeling inspired by metal, I will try my hand at metal. And if I am feeling inspired by anti-folk, I will try my hand at anti-folk, even though I am not in an anti-folk band, nor am I in a metal band. I think you let yourself be inspired by whatever. You don’t fall into a pigeonhole, which can be hard to get out of. It doesn’t make us unique, necessarily. But it allows you the freedom to explore, which is fun and good for an artist. If I make a demo of a song, and I want to listen to it a lot after it’s made, then that is a sign that I should proceed with the song. Because if I’m not obsessed with it, why would anyone else be? That’s it, really. That’s the only rule that I abide by consistently. There are always things that confuse me and make me feel some type of way that isn’t black and white – those things you write about because you can’t make sense of something. The process of making sense of it is interesting.

From: https://bigtakeover.com/interviews/InterviewEllieRowsellofWolfAlice

Buffalo Springfield - Rock And Roll Woman - Live 1967

1969.  I’m 20 years old, a junior at a large university in the Midwest, living in a loft near campus and having a good time:  avoiding classes, immersed in film, poetry, and herbs, but mostly immersed in The Music. Those were heady days indeed. Someone came up with the idea of starting an Open University, where people who wanted to teach would meet with people who wanted to learn, without credit. Learning for the sake of learning, one of those revolutionary 1969 concepts. I was asked to give a course in ‘The History of Rock Music’, which became quite a hit. I’d dude myself up in a paisley shirt with a clashing paisley tie, fluff up my jewfro, slip into my cowboy boots and go pontificate weekly in front of 100 rapt Eds and co-Eds. Today you toss an iPod or whatever they’re using today in the air and it’ll probably fall on someone who knows more about Stu Sutcliffe than I did then or do now. But then, by default and/or opportunism and/or cloistered adolescence, I was the Musical Guru of Clifton Avenue.
One day I got a call from SA, the Assistant Dean of the very reputable College Conservatory of Music, asking me to stop into his office. Ok, what did I do wrong now? He turned out to be short, bald, and charming. “I need to learn about this music. They tell me you’re the guy. So what we’re going to do is you’re going to sign up for Music Appreciation 101” (NO!) “but instead of going to classes we’ll meet once a week just the two of us” (Not before noon, ok?) “and have a mutual tutorial. I’ll teach you the fundamentals of classical music, you’ll teach me rock music.” (I guess.) “And I’ll give you an A for the class.” (YES!) It was a ruse. He didn’t teach me bubkis about classical music, which I regret even today. Could well be he tried, I admit. But what he was really there for was to pump my weed-addled brain, such as it was, about that music.
Jeff: “Here’s this group Buffalo Springfield. Very uneven, but some great stuff. Their main talent is a guy named Stephen Stills. This is his ‘Rock and Roll Woman.’”
SA: “Ah, that’s really great. You do realize that he’s juxtaposing two different scales against each other? (Sings the ‘La-la-la-la-la-la’ refrain.)
Jeff: “Um……”
For 45 years I’ve regretted not paying attention to SA’s explanation. So I took advantage of preparing for this posting by calling OG, the brainiest and talented-est musician I know. He’s 40, and I had the pleasure of introducing him to Buffalo Springfield when he was but a mere tyke. I called him yesterday, out of the blue. “Hey, OG, what key is ‘R&R Woman in?” Without pausing, he starts singing for me the melody line using the notes’ names instead of the lyrics.
OG: “D minor with an augmented 6th.  You know, the Dorian mode? But then it shifts into D major.”
JM: “Um….”
OG: “You know, like ‘Scarborough Fair’.” [Sings, note names instead of lyrics.] If it were a regular minor scale it would be [sings, with the 6th a half-step lower.] It’s a standard blues thing, where you play in major and sing in minor.”
JM: “Um…., sure.”
So I guess I had to wait 45 years to get thoroughly convinced that my Pooh brain ain’t ever gonna master musical theory to that extent. In my next incarnation, I am resolved to study at the Royal Academy of Music in Aarhus, Denmark. That’s a promise. But in this go-round, I guess all I’m going to get to do is nostalgize a bit about great songs like ‘Rock and Roll Woman’.
Buffalo Springfield was a flimsy amalgam of superegos, Stephen Stills (Louisiana), Neil Young (Canada), Richie Furay (Ohio) and Jim Messina (Texas). Based in LA, they hung together for a mere two years (from 1966) and three albums. The first is utterly forgettable except for the Hippie anthem ‘For What It’s Worth’. The second is their piece de resistance, including masterpieces from Furay (‘A Child’s Claim to Fame’), Young (‘Mr Soul’), and especially Stills (‘Everydays’, ‘Bluebird’, and our Song of The Week, ‘Rock and Roll Woman’.) The third is a collection of cuts recorded by individual members, some of them very fine (Stills’ ‘Pretty Girl Why’, ‘Questions’; Young’s ‘On the Way Home’, ‘I Am a Child’; Furay’s ‘It’s So Hard to Wait’).
Buffalo Springfield (the name refers to a company that manufactured steamrollers) existed in a perpetual state of adolescent identity crisis. The members squabbled, the group never really decided who it was. One cut is all Grateful Dead, the next quasi-Association. It’s not a multifaceted smorgasbord; it’s a coreless mashup. Their discography is as messy as the infamous Stills-Young relationship, leaving behind as many outtakes, studio demos and live recordings as Ghengis Khan did offspring. But, oh, what music they made on the way to their dissolution.
1964-65 were the years of the British Invasion. American rock only began to become relevant in 1966, with The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield on the West Coast and slightly earlier The Lovin’ Spoonful in New York. All three, but especially Buffalo Springfield can be legitimately credited with introducing country music into rock (as well as rich, complex harmonies). Of course The Beatles had done it first (like everything else), starting with ‘What Goes On’ as a novelty in 1964, moving into ‘I’ve Just Seen A Face’ and ‘I’m Looking Through You’ in the 1965 Rubber Soul period. The Byrds were exploring the same material as Buffalo Springfield at the same time, but Jim McGuinn’s dominant personality instilled a more cohesive vision in their recordings. The Lovin’ Spoonful were, like the Springfield, a patchy group, but Sebastian had his head screwed on more tightly, was much more careful a craftsman than the Springfields, and created a more significant body of work.
Late one night a month before the Buffalo breakup, Stills recorded on a whim the fascinating “Just Roll Tape” which surfaced recently. Then in 1968 he joined up with David Crosby (ex-Byrds) and Graham Nash (ex-Hollies) to form Crosby, Stills and Nash, revolutionizing the aesthetic of popular music. Young recorded two solo albums before joining CS&N in 1969, initially adding a ‘why?’ to the group. Furay and Messina founded Poco. Later Messina joined up with Kenny Loggins, and Furay with J.D. Souther and ex-Byrd Chris Hillman.
At their best, Buffalo Springfield was unsurpassed in creating groundbreaking music as singer-songwriter rocker musicians par exellence. ‘Rock and Roll Woman’ is them at their best, even if you don’t know the Dorian mode from a Vanilla Fudge sundae. The lyrics were supposedly inspired by Jefferson Airplane’s Grace Slick, that coolest of rock and roll women. According to Stills, the song “came from jamming with David Crosby at his house. We got hung up on the F to D change in D-modal, which is mountain minor tuning. We kept playing it over and over and over again.”  From: https://jmeshel.com/198-buffalo-springfield-rock-and-roll-woman/

Children of the Sün - Emmy

I can just about say I was a child of the 70s, having been born 10 days before the decade ended. But since childhood I was always told I had an old head on my shoulders, too. So I class myself fully as a child of the 70s, and am very partial to some throwback psychedelia from those sunshine times of Hippies, flares, and out-there thinking. Luckily, Sweden’s Children of the Sün feel the same, despite only being youngsters! They’ve clearly got the same old head as me, and have managed to transport their sound perfectly back to those good old days, with their latest album release, “Leaving Ground, Greet The End”.
Album opener, ‘Sugar (Shape of a Gun)’ instantly sets the tone for the album.  A slightly fuzzed out tremelo guitar, and upbeat rhythms and bass sit below the floating vocals of leading lady Josefina Berglund Ekholm, with a shit ton of flange and echo thrown at it, and 60s/70s style harmonies. It conjures images of the hallowed fields of Woodstock ‘69, full of people smoking, dancing, plaiting flowers in their hair, and just having a great time. Their latest single, ‘Lilium,’ follows. This is a slower ballad, and interestingly the harmonies and general feel in this track almost make me burst into Bowie’s ‘Space Oddity’. It’s a beautiful song that ebbs and swells, with an acoustic section that has all the elements of a campfire rendition, with the setting sun in the backdrop. We also get treated to more incredible vocals as the song draws towards an end. It’s just beautiful.
And this is very much how the album continues. It’s beautiful songwriting done in a cabin in the woods with good old-fashioned pen and paper, according to the press release! I’m a huge fan of this, and if I ever get a chance to sit down at the piano to play or write, technology is left to one side, because a pencil and manuscript is all you need. Understated but perfect performances from all musicians, harmonies aplenty, catchy melodies, chilled out vibes, and skillful observations give this band a huge amount of authenticity. There’s even a bit in ‘Come With Us’ that to my geek brain sounds like they’re about to launch into the Red Dwarf theme music, which gives them an extra mark from me!
They even chuck in a slowed down, and hippied-up version of Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ – I didn’t even think it would be possible to make this song more synonymous of it’s time, but clearly I was wrong. It’s genius! The final track on the album ‘Gateway,’ is just stunning. And I can hear so many of the greats in their early days coming through in this. The harmonies are absolutely beautiful, the semi-tonal descending switching from major to minor. I could listen to Children of the Sün all day, every day, and never get bored, so this is going to be my first, and quite possibly easiest, 10/10 score for 2025.  From: https://www.ever-metal.com/2025/01/14/children-of-the-sun-leaving-ground-greet-the-end/

The Butthole Surfers - Something

Formed in Austin, Texas, but of no fixed abode for much of their late-’80s heyday, the Butthole Surfers resembled a cross between Ken Kesey’s Merry Pranksters and the early, no-budget Alice Cooper—a roaming freak show of improvised druggy chaos. Along the way, they left behind a trail of deranged and damaged recordings. Stalwarts of the post-hardcore underground that spawned Big Black, Sonic Youth, and Dinosaur Jr., Butthole Surfers seemed the least likely of the scene ever to go mainstream. Instead, they seemed more likely to grow into a Dadaist Grateful Dead for the 1990s, playing to ever-larger crowds of the turned-on faithful, but way too weird for radio and Walmart. The name alone seemed like an act of commercial suicide. But, surprising everybody, Butthole Surfers signed to a major label, made an album with Led Zeppelin’s John Paul Jones, traveled the United States on the first Lollapalooza tour, and, eventually, cleaned up with the modern rock radio hit “Pepper.”
Speaking from their Austin homes, guitarist Paul Leary and drummer King Coffey discuss their pre-crossover days of insanitary insanity, via the latest batch of Butthole Surfers reissues from Matador Records: Cream Corn From the Socket of Davis, Locust Abortion Technician, and Hairway to Steven.

Pitchfork: Last summer, I was saddened to learn about the death of the band’s onetime drummer Teresa Taylor—or, as she was known back then, Teresa Nervosa. I understand she originally left the Butthole Surfers in 1989 for health reasons?

King Coffey: She had brain problems, supposedly partially attributable to the strobe lights we used onstage. The doctors asked, “Have you ever been exposed to any strobes?” And Teresa laughed, “Oh, you’ll never know how many strobes I’ve witnessed.” She struggled through many problems in her final 10 years. But I’m just so grateful that we had a chance to know her and play with her and be her de facto brothers.

The two of you pounding away at your stand-up drum kits was quite a sight back in the day—Teresa’s flaming red tresses flailing! Sonically impactful, too, the twin drum attack.

Coffey: When I first joined the band, I was doing real basic kick and snare drums, from having been in this hardcore band the Hugh Beaumont Experience. Playing like a wind-up monkey. In the Buttholes, Teresa started playing these really cool tribal beats. I learned how to play just being with her and watching her. We kind of worked with one brain.

The first time I saw a Buttholes show, in 1987, I was totally unprepared for the audio-visual assault. Singer Gibby Haynes squirted flammable liquid on a cymbal, set it ablaze, and kept smashing the cymbal with a drumstick—flames shot up to the ceiling! I’m thinking, Is this whole venue going to go up in smoke?

Paul Leary: We were really lucky, because we set fires every night for a decade, but we never got hurt. One time, Gibby got injured by an exploding coffee pot, but that was when we were staying at a house in Georgia. His skin was falling off his arm for a month. In those days, we couldn’t afford a doctor. But we never got injured on the actual stage. Even with the shotgun.

The shotgun?

Leary: We’re playing the first Lollapalooza tour—second on the bill, in the mid-afternoon. Our light show wouldn’t work in daylight, so Gibby got a 12-gauge pump shotgun and he’d load it up with what’s called popper loads—they don’t shoot bullets, but they’re used to train dogs, by having a louder, more violent explosion than a regular shell. Siouxsie and the Banshees was on that first Lollapalooza bill. At one show, I was playing a solo and I looked down—there’s Gibby and Siouxsie at my feet, wrestling around with a shotgun pointed at my head, trying to grab it from each other. That was like seeing a rattlesnake—I jumped 10 feet in the air.

There’s so much lore around the Buttholes — outrageous exploits and crazy antics. My wife saw your infamous concert at Danceteria, in 1986, the one with live sex acts taking place onstage.

Leary: We’d been in L.A. and got an offer from Danceteria to play two shows, Friday and Saturday. So we drove from L.A. to New York, a pretty hefty drive, but when we showed up on Friday they said, “Oh, you’re only playing tonight.” We were not happy about that at all, and we kind of let them have it. Towards the end of the show, I pulled out a screwdriver and went around destroying every speaker in their PA and their monitors. They paid us, but they were threatening Gibby and telling us we’d never play New York again.

Do you ever feel that the legend and the lore obscures the music? Amid all the chaos and the clowning, there’s some great rock — particularly on Locust Abortion Technician and Hairway to Steven, there’s a sheer majesty to the sound.

Leary: I don’t remember thinking like that. I thought we were pretty pitiful! Starving punk rockers going from town to town, trying to get enough money to buy beer and pot and gas. This was before the internet and cell phones — we had a basket in the van with maps of all the towns in the United States.

Coffey: We had an “us-against-the-world” mentality. We’d all been washing dishes in Austin, Texas, and then we thought, fuck this. Let’s just be a band. Let’s hit the road. People talk about these amazing shows we did — keep in mind that everything was self-contained in a Chevy Nova or a van. We didn’t have this big arsenal of lights, a road crew — it was just the five of us, the dog, and whatever fit in a van. We didn’t have a manager.

Leary: All we had was burnt bridges in our rearview mirror.

Coffey: Even though it was grindingly hard at times, we were also having a blast. None of us had girlfriends, boyfriends, a place to live, but at least we were doing what we set out to do. We’d all crash in the same Motel 6 room or whoever’s house we were staying at.

Leary: Waking up on the floor next to some stranger’s cat box.

Coffey: Later in life, I realized we were run like a commune. We had one communal fund that we’d take money out of to eat, or for gas. We’d get money from a show and put it back into the fund.

Interesting that you mention communes, because the Buttholes always struck me as this bizarre merger of hippie and punk. A compelling collision of mind-expanding music and mind-debasing everything-else. The lyrics and the album artwork reveled in the gross and grotesque. Like those films you used to back-project at shows: penile reconstruction surgery, car crash carnage.

Leary: I think Gibby got a lot of those films from the University of Texas film library. He’d call in and say that he was Dr. Gibby Haynes, and he needed this movie and that movie.

From: https://pitchfork.com/features/interview/butthole-surfers-on-the-deranged-and-damaged-1980s/

Jon Anderson - Olias of Sunhillow

"Olias of Sunhillow" is the debut full-length studio album by UK progressive rock artist Jon Anderson. The album was released through Atlantic Records in July 1976. After touring in support of their seventh full-length studio album "Relayer" (1974), the members of Yes agreed that it was time for a break, which gave the individual members of the band the time and energy to record solo albums. Lead vocalist Jon Anderson retreated to his English country home in Seer Green, Buckinghamshire with a mobile studio and Yes engineer Mike Dunne to help with the technical aspects of the recording process. Other than Dunne, no one else was involved in the recording of "Olias of Sunhillow", and Anderson therefore performs all instruments and vocals on the album.
Anderson is not a natural instrumentalist but he practiced real hard and became relatively proficient before the recording process began (he plays no less than 30 instruments on the album). But he wisely kept things simple, although some parts can sound pretty complex, but that´s mostly due to the multi-layering of instruments and vocals. In other words Anderson realised that his greatest strength was his voice and "Olias of Sunhillow" is of course an album featuring many sections focused on said voice. Often layered with backing vocals and choirs. The instrumental part of the music is a quirky ambient and atmospheric type of folky semi-progressive rock, featuring very few sections with "rock drumming", and instead featuring subtle use of percussion.
Anderson knew from the start that he would make a concept album, and "Olias of Sunhillow" is indeed a concept album featuring a sci-fi themed story about four different races who are forced to leave their planet and are helped by some super beings/gods? to relocate to another planet and start a new life there. It´s a new age concept which goes hand in hand with the sometimes ambient new age atmosphere of the music. Anderson´s use of eastern/asian/caribbean instruments further enhances the new age feeling. So it´s an album combining elements from progressive rock, folk rock, psychedelic rock, world music, and ambient/atmospheric new age music. Think the most aimlessly noodly and atmospheric sections from "Tales from Topographic Oceans" (1973) and you´re halfway there.
The element that Anderson always gets right is his optimistic, uplifting, and fantasy based spirit. I haven´t met the man, but I imagine that he is one of the most well-balanced and friendly guys on the planet. You can´t produce lyrics like these and perform them with such an honest optimism if you don´t mean it. I have great respect for that although "Olias of Sunhillow" to my ears does become a little too "light" and sometimes shallow listening experience. It´s an incredible pleasant listen and it´s well produced too, but the new age atmosphere reduces the album to background listening more than once during the playing time. A little more variation in atmosphere and maybe just a few hard rocking parts for dynamics would have been nice.
When that is said we´re still dealing with one of the top vocalists in the world and of course there are many great ideas spread across the album. Anderson´s performance is top notch when it comes to his vocals and he manages to get a lot out of his relatively limited instrumental skills. Upon conclusion "Olias of Sunhillow" is not necessarily for fans of Yes...at least not for fans of the bombastic and dynamic part of the band´s repetoire and in that respect Anderson has truly made a solo release, which stands out and which is different from the work of his (then) main project. It´s for example not like listening to Chris Squire´s "Fish Out Of Water" (1975), which is basically a Yes album with only one member of Yes performing.  From: https://www.progarchives.com/album.asp?id=4370 

Steeleye Span - Twa Corbies

Ray Fisher sang the bleak Twa Corbies, accompanied by her brother Archie on guitar, in 1962 on their EP Far Over the Forth; this recording was included in 1965 on the Topic compilation Bonny Lass Come O’er the Burn, in 1975 on the famous 4 LP compilation Electric Muse and later on its CD version New Electric Muse, and in 2009 on Topic’s 70th anniversary anthology Three Score and Ten. The EP’s sleeve notes commented:

When is a ballad not a ballad? Answer—when it isn’t sung. The Twa Corbies has for long been regarded as one of the most flawless as it is one of the grimmest of all our ballads; but it wasn’t being sung. No tune appeared to survive in oral tradition and attempts at setting it remained literary, academic and dead. Then R.M. Blythman (the Scots poet “Thurso Berwick”) set it [in ca 1956] to this marvellously sombre old Breton tune, An Alarc’h, The Swan, learned from the Breton folk-singer Zaig Montjarret. The result was astonishingly right and The Twa Corbies has passed into the repertoire of our younger folk-singers. It is related to the English Three Ravens.

Jean Redpath sang Twa Corbies in 1962 too on her Elektra album Scottish Ballad Book. She noted:

Proof that not all of the ‘big ballads’ are big in both form and feeling, Twa Corbies owes much of the power of its impact to its very brevity. In contrast to the more hopeful Three Ravens—that form of the ballad which is more widely known—this version presents in five compact stanzas its hard and cynical comment and captures the very spirit of the Anglo-Saxon fatalism, especially in the terrible finality of the last two lines. In this form the ballad is rare in Britain, has no European analogies and is practically unknown in Canada. The popularity of The Three Ravens and its variants in America has been attributed to minstrel stage burlesque. Since it is difficult to explain how such apparently restricted oral tradition has resulted in such a perfect and unique poem, it has been suggested that Twa Corbies is in fact a formal composition, perhaps from the pen of Motherwell. Whatever its origin, this ballad, stark and desolate as it is, remains one of the most arresting I know.

Nigel Denver sang Two Corbies in 1965 on his Decca album Moving On. He noted:

The two crows are discussing where they are going to eat, one says behind the wall there is a knight slain in battle, his hawk, his horse and lady have deserted him SO we might as well finish him off. The underlying theme is the absolute futility of war. The tune, which is Breton, was married to the song by Morris Blythman, a Glasqow schoolteacher.

Paul McNeill sang Two Corbies, accompanied by Trevor Lucas on guitar, in 1966 on his Decca album Traditionally at The Troubadour. He noted:

I can’t even remember where I first heard this song, but I’ve always thought it the finest, sparest ballad in existence. Trevor Lucas made this arrangement and when he played it to me, I jumped at the chance of singing it. I hope it doesn’t offend too many purists.

Steeleye Span recorded Twa Corbies in 1970 for their very first album, Hark! The Village Wait and more than 25 years later for their album Time, this time with the shorter title Corbies. A live recording from The Forum, London on 2 September 1995 was released on the CD The Journey. The first recording’s sleeve notes commented:

[…] otherwise known as the Two Ravens, and sometimes called The Three Ravens. First printed in [Scott]’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border in 1803 it is one of the most popular of the Scottish ballads. For those unused to the dialect the two birds are discussing the pros and cons of eating a newly slain knight. Ashley Hutchings: “This goes back to the 13th Century at least, and it was recorded at Tim’s suggestion.” Why is it particular about a knight? Why not a footsoldier? “Songs that go back a long way are usually about Lords and Ladies, possibly because they were a great source of interest to the people, rich and poor.”

And the Time sleeve notes commented:

Scraggy feathered, mean beaked carrion crows tearing at the tender flesh of a dead, deserted knight. As an image of impermanence there is no equal.

In between both studio albums, Steeleye Span’s singer Maddy Prior recorded Twa Corbies in 1993 for her solo album Year. She noted:

Reflection on death in its physical reality is known to the Buddhists and Hindus, but in the West only in Medieval times was it dealt with directly and evoked by skeletons carved on graves and gruesome images of Death the Reaper. In these more antiseptic times there is little in this line and flowers, wreaths and gentle doves cloud the unacceptable thought of our mortal destination. This song dates from earlier times and is for me a brilliant examination of decay.

From: https://mainlynorfolk.info/steeleye.span/songs/twacorbies.html

The Greek Theatre - Byrd of Prey

Two and half years have passed since I reviewed the previous The Greek Theater album, Broken Circle, but in truth it’s felt like half that time as I’ve consistently found myself living in the sumptuous sixties progressive psychedelic swirl the band create. Hence, When Seasons Change makes for a hotly anticipated follow up from the Swedish duo behind this undeniably authentic trip into a sound from days gone by. Enticing names like The Byrds, Roger McGuinn and The Moody Blues form the memory, imagery and atmosphere that unfolds as you wander through this poised and languidly passionate voyage. Comprising Sven Froberg and Fredrick Persson as permanent members, the two-some have surrounded themselves with a revolving door of equally engaging talent and a selection of songs that feel unbelievably natural in a way that most acts can only dream of. Followers of Rikard Sjöblom’s solo and Gungfly output will find a readily available home here that I’d be as bold as to suggest outstrips their more feted rival, with the ability of The Greek Theatre to glide you into a sixties laced, seventies honed environment something that will see many cast envious glances in their direction.
What is also exciting to hear is the skill of album sequencing being used to quite stunning effect, the ebb and flow of When Seasons Change almost as engrossing as the songs that create it. Opening cut “Twin Larks” is an acoustic strumming display of flute, joy and summer, that gives way to the altogether more pointed drive of “Laurence Of Laurel Canyon”, where the snare pops in marching style and the bass dollops great spoonfuls of syrupy but never over sweet goodness down from the skies. As the surprisingly caustic guitar tracks from channel to channel in the speakers/phones on “The Post-Factual Jam”, so a darker, more insidious intent swipes into view but it’s followed by more flute and sweet vocals that wouldn’t be out of place on an expertly negotiated Justin Hayward slice of persuasion. And so the journey continues, with intentions swapped, moulded and interchanged with seeming ease - the short “Open Window” a soothing seduction that still grasps melodic sway, while “The Streets You Hold” funks it up just enough to detour the attack round the houses and straight back onto the open road. With “The Cabooze” an echo of piano chords and fuzzed up, flute laden guitars, and “Sail Away (Part Two)” so tender it barely whispers as it flitters past, the amount of terra firma being expertly traversed is quite breathtaking. Especially when you consider that it is all done so organically and with such little fuss.  From: https://www.seaoftranquility.org/reviews.php?op=showcontent&id=22319

K's Choice - A Sound That Only You Can Hear

As both a solo artist and the front woman for K’s Choice, Belgian rocker Sarah Bettens has long been a staple in the LGBTQ music community, even before she officially came out more than a dozen years ago. Around that same time, Bettens put K’s Choice on hold and settled into a domestic life with her now-wife and two step-children. The couple has since adopted two more kids and Bettens has regrouped with K’s Choice, most recently for The Phantom Cowboy. But something else happened a few years back: After earning her U.S. citizenship, Bettens became a firefighter.

So… the obvious question would be, why a firefighter?

[Laughs] That is not what I thought you were going to ask. I thought it would be about the album.

Oh, I’ll get to that. But first things first. Firefighter. Go.

I had a high need of doing something that had nothing to do with music and was very different in nature. There are a couple of things I felt… you could probably call it a mid-life crisis… things I never really got to do. I never got to go to college and have that experience. Everything got very serious very quickly with the band, so I always had a little bit of a feeling that I missed out on something. It’s hard to do hobbies with music and get into any kind of routine of playing soccer on Sundays, stuff like that, because I was gone a lot of the Sundays. There are just all these things that sound very small — and they are, in a way. But, put together, I felt like there was something I still had to do that I couldn’t find in my music career.
I don’t know how I first came up with it, but it sounded exactly like what I wanted to do. The part I really like about my band is that I hang out with a bunch of guys and that comes easily for me. And being part of something bigger than yourself — I liked the public service aspect of it, I liked the physical aspect of it. And what I really liked about it was that it was outlined, as in 24-hour shifts and when it’s done, it’s done. My life has been a long series of self-starter events and I was craving something that was more defined. I have to show up, do a good job, and then it’s over. I applied after becoming a citizen. I got an interview and was hired. I remember calling my now-wife and saying, “Shit! I got hired.” [Laughs] It was so incredibly exciting. I went to rookie school with a bunch of 25-year-old guys learning new things, and things that didn’t come naturally for me. It was challenging. It still is. I completely fell head-over-heels in love with it.

Okay, so there are some parallels between that and music, but do you have to switch gears — mentally or otherwise — going between firefighter and musician?

Yeah. I’ve been so used to that. That comes naturally to me, too. Coming on and off tour, there’s no bigger gear switch than that. We have four kids so, when I go on tour, it’s about as big a shift as there is, especially coming off tour. You’ve been hanging out with a bunch of guys and your family’s been moving on without you. That’s been a real art in itself — coming in and going out and realizing that they’re doing just fine without you in the two weeks that you’re gone. So, my life’s been that, a constant packing and unpacking of bags and adjusting. People will say, “Oh, but it’s such a long flight to Belgium.” And I’ll say, “Yes. But I’m alone in peace.” I don’t mind those nine hours at all.

You have this super-domestic life with your wife and kids and day job. Which really is as rock and roll as it gets, right?

[Laughs] I would agree with that. Yes. Absolutely. That’s my brother’s song and I loved it so much when I heard it. I thought it was so fun to write a song with that kind of music and really still be talking about your kids. And it’s true: It takes a lot of strength to be a parent. It takes a lot of coolness. You’re just not the most important thing anymore. You’re just trying to keep everything afloat. And that’s about as big a challenge as anything that I’ve ever done. When you try to do it well and feel like it’s working, that’s about as cool as it gets, to me.

I talked to Brandi Carlile about this a few months back… I lot of female artists I love got soft after parenthood. Not her. And not you. This new record is one of your most rocking.

Kind of the opposite with this one. Getting into your everyday routine of being a mom and how incredibly unglamorous that is outside of your Facebook pictures. Then you want to feel like, “I’m not just that. I’m a little bit more than that. I have some things left to do.”

Yeah yeah. You get to remind yourself of that other side of you.

You have to feed it. It’s important to be a great parent. But, in order to be a great parent, you have to feel great in your own self. It can’t be all about making sure the kids are happy every second of every day. You have to be a fulfilled person yourself. That’s what your kids see and that’s who they look at. I don’t believe you can be a great parent if you’re miserable. It’s a balancing and it keeps life interesting.
Those are things I still want and need in my life. Even though it takes me away from my kids sometimes, luckily they have two moms. So, there’s another one and they’re very happy and very safe, even when I’m gone. Then I come home and I feel fulfilled in my life. I’ve done things that I enjoy doing and I want them to see that, as well.

It seems like, if you’re getting what you need away from them, then you can really be present when you are with them.

I can relax hard, sit down and have a beer. But I can only do that because I work very hard the rest of the time.

Talk to me about the overarching themes on this record. Because the family stuff is there, but you’re stepping outside of yourself on some things.

It’s the first time my brother and I have written together. We sat in the same room and it made for, musically, a very different record. And I think the music very much inspired the direction we ended up going with the lyrics. We had no preconceived notions of what we wanted the record to be about. On the musical part, we knew what we wanted to do. Somehow, when I started writing lyrics, there was a little bit of assertiveness to it — more than in other records. Less poetic imagery, maybe, and more just straightforward “This is what I want to talk about.” The music demands that.

We’re of a certain age now when there’s no time for BS.

[Laughs] Yes. I like that you said “of a certain age.” Yeah, you take yourself a little less seriously. I don’t take my career less seriously. But not every word in every song has to be the deepest truth ever written anymore. I want to write a fun record. I want everyone to jump up and down when they hear it. That’s the kind of music I want to make. I still want to talk about meaningful things, but it doesn’t all have to be about me, anymore. It can float a little more. At some point, you really learn to cut through a lot of bullshit. “This is the art. This is what I want to talk about. And there it is.”
I used to think the stars had to be aligned in a certain way and the light has to come through my window at a certain angle, and I have to have at least five hours ahead of me of nothing, and be in just the right space for, “Okay, I think I might be able to write a song today.” This time, it was like, “Well, you’re here. We gotta write. It’s 9 o’clock. Let’s go.” That was super-freeing, too. Why did I take my own songs so seriously? It’s still just a flipping song, at the end of the day. I appreciate that people appreciate it and I’m very grateful for the connection, that there’s an understanding of what I’m trying to say. That’s a special feeling and I understand that. Still, it’s just a flipping song. It’s not a novel. It’s not a life-and-death situation. None of us are trying to fit into boxes anymore. “Let’s see what the trend is.” If I really cared about trends, I’d get some major cosmetic surgery and a boob job and turn straight again, and probably sell a lot more records. Obviously, none of those things are an option, so…

From: https://www.kellymccartney.com/2015/10/16/suffer-no-fools-an-interview-with-sarah-bettens/

The Dear Hunter - City Escape

The Dear Hunter started out as a solo project of songwriter-multi-instrumentalist-vocalist Casey Crescenzo, releasing their first album, Act 1: The Lake South, River North, in 2006, which then grew into a full progressive rock band in subsequent albums, chronicling a continuing story in the Act Series of albums (so far, 5 albums over a ten year period). There have also been other musical projects and EPs in between those albums. Their latest album, Antimai, is separate from those previous works, and I was pleasantly surprised at how fun this new album is. It is predominantly lively, upbeat, and quite accessible. They incorporate much soul, R&B, latin, pop, jazz, and rock into the mix, with liberal use of funky horns and tuned percussion, yet the result is still undeniably prog rock. This is a concept album that chronicles a world where society is set-up in concentric rings, with the outer rings occupied by the poor and industrial sectors moving inward to the more luxurious and powerful inner rings. The album consists of 8 tracks, each corresponding to one of the rings and highlighting features of that sector. But you don't need to know or care about the concept or story to enjoy the album, as it is quite wonderful from start to finish. One of the best and longer tracks, Ring 5 - Middle Class, features multiple sections, starting with a catchy pop opening, a slower middle section, then a jazz-funk Steely Dan-esque closing section. Ring 4 - Patrol, is somewhat reminiscent of the Alan Parsons Project with its a funky beat and cool pop style. Ring 3 - Luxury starts off with some clever Hamilton-style rap vocals before leading into subsequent sections. Casey Crescenzo's vocals are very enjoyable, and quite versatile, working well in a variety of styles and moods. The album flows well and all the tracks are very well done, featuring a variety of vibrant styles, dynamics, and instrumentation, in addition to very fine vocals. One minor complaint is that it ends a bit weakly, as I was expecting a buildup to a big finish, but the album ends rather meekly and abruptly, without any real conclusion. Overall, this is a wonderful, very enjoyable album, one of the best of 2022.  From: https://www.progarchives.com/artist.asp?id=3330

Ebb - Dark Lady

The picture may look as if this is a standard looking release, but here the CD is at the rear of a 48-page full-colour A5 landscape glossy book which provides us with the lyrics, numerous photos, and an insight of what makes this art/prog/folk/rock collective really tick. What we have here is a continuation of the 'Krystal Svava' mythos they started in their EP 'Death & The Maiden'. It is somewhat based an old dying ex- army musician and his housekeeper cum part time sex worker they knew, mixed with that of a new friend, David, also an old soldier and ex-musician living in Scotland. The band are based around Erin Bennett (lead vocals, guitar, trumpet), and comprise Kitty Biscuits (backing vocals, percussion, spoken word poetry), Anna Fraser (drums, percussion), Bad Dog (bass), Susan Dasi (backing vocals, synths), and Nikki Francis (Hammond, piano, synths, saxophone, flute, clarinet). Yes, we have a band which are nearly all-female, which is unusual in any style of music but certainly rare within anything remotely thought of as prog where women are generally allowed to be lead singers but rarely anything else (yes, I am fully aware of bands like Eternal Wanderers, but there are very few like that).
The album commences with the sound of an orchestra warming up and getting ready for the performance and is quite unlike the rest of the material, but somehow it is also quite fitting in that it allows us to know that whatever comes next will be unexpected, and that is certainly the case throughout. It is a heavily layered and arranged album, and one never knows what to expect, and by concentrating on different musicians it is possible to clearly understand just how much impact each of the players is having on the rest of the band. Erin can really crunch when she wants to, sing sweetly or with real power, while behind her Anna is never content to sit within any particular pattern or style, moving all over the kit when the time is right, keeping it restrained at others. Bassist Bad Dog is in many ways the cornerstone as he can keep it simple or provide great complexity, moving right up the neck for counterpoint melodies, linking with both Anna and Erin which then allows the others to add their own layers. At times we have piano which is simply beautiful and delicate, at others swathes of keyboards and orchestration, while various woodwind and brass instruments come in when the time is right. There are times when they are quite Floydian, others more direct, and yet others where folk is an important aspect with a feeling that Mostly Autumn have also been an influence, yet it also feels somewhat deeper, stronger, with a real connection. This really is a wonderful release, and it is great that the physical version really does justice to the music contained within. Well worth discovering.  From: https://www.progarchives.com/artist.asp?id=12717  

Edwin Starr - Funky Music Sho Nuff Turns Me On

Edwin Starr made his name with War, the thumping chorus of which became the chant of protesters against America’s involvement in Vietnam. The success of the song eclipsed his other achievements, although his soul and disco anthems brought him modest success, especially in Britain, and kept him on a frantic touring schedule which may, in the end, have contributed to his death. Originally penned as a Temptations number for their LP Psychedelic Shack, Starr’s lyrics for War were intended as a plea to end the inter-gang rivalries that sparked the Chicago and Los Angeles Riots of 1968. But when campus demonstrators adopted the song and demanded it be re-released as a single, Motown baulked at the idea: opposing the Truman Doctrine was not part of the Temptations’ easygoing image. So Starr performed War by himself.
Born Charles Hatcher in Nashville in 1942, Starr moved with his family to Cleveland, Ohio, early in life, and there, as a teenager, he led his band, the Future Tones, to a record contract with a local label. They managed one single before Starr was drafted into the US Army, where he spent three years entertaining troops across Europe. On leaving the army he moved to Detroit and played with the Bill Doggett combo, taking his new name from his manager’s hackneyed prophesy: “Kid, one day you’re gonna be a star!”
He toured continuously for two years before releasing his first single with Detroit’s Ric-Tic Records, a low-budget Motown copycat. Agent Double-O-Soul achieved moderate success and struck a particular chord in England, where underground dance clubs picked it up. He followed up with Stop Her On Sight (SOS), and stayed on the books when Ric-Tic was swallowed by Motown. In 1969 he gave them the foot-stomping Top 10 hit 25 Miles, followed by I’m Still a Strugglin’ Man. In 1970 he reached his apogee, the simple but effective words of War carrying the song to number one in the US and keeping it in the charts for 13 weeks: “War has shattered many young men’s dreams / We’ve got no place for it today / They say we must fight to keep our freedom but Lord / There’s just got to be a better way.”
The single sold 3.5 million copies in the US by the end of the year, and has sold a further 1.5 million since. It was banned by the BBC during the 1991 Gulf War and by Clear Channel Communications, America’s largest radio network, in the wake of September 11, 2001. It was covered by Bruce Springsteen, who used it, in blatant opposition to the American attack on Iraq, to launch each concert on a recent tour of Australia. It is currently banned from American airwaves again. Starr’s attempt to capitalise with another anti-Vietnam song, Stop the War Now took him only to No 26 in the American charts. His last major soul single, in 1974, was Funky Music Sho’ Nuff Turns Me On.  From: https://www.thetimes.com/article/edwin-starr-r7zfrsz5lvm

Crooked Still - Sometimes in This Country

Neo-bluegrass group Crooked Still combines four musicians with distinguished backgrounds and connections. Singer Aoife O'Donovan, a graduate of the New England Conservatory, is also a member of the Wayfaring Strangers. Cellist Rushad Eggleston, the first string student admitted to the Berklee College of Music on a full scholarship, also performs with Fiddlers 4 and Darol Anger's American Fiddle Ensemble while also leading his own Wild Band of Snee. Banjo player Greg Liszt, a Ph.D. candidate in biology at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, also plays with the Wayfaring Strangers and the Jake Armerding Band. And double bassist Corey DiMario, also a member of the Lissa Schneckenburger Band, has played in prestigious venues around the U.S. with such notable performers as Liz Carroll and McCoy Tyner. The four came together as Crooked Still in September 2001 when O'Donovan was asked to assemble a group for an informal concert at the New England Conservatory. Over the next few years, they developed a following in New England before releasing their debut album, Hop High, in February 2005. Their second release, Shaken by a Low Sound, followed a year later.  From: https://www.allmusic.com/artist/crooked-still-mn0000332973#biography

Bad Company - Simple Man

There’s a particular scene in the award-winning 2000 Cameron Crowe film, Almost Famous. In that playful scene, “band aid,” Estrella Starr (played by Bijou Phillips) peers out the window of a hotel room and announces (excitedly) to her frolicking female companions, “Simon Kirke from Bad Company is by the pool!” Not only did the band’s co-founding drummer get a nod with that memorable quote, but the film’s fictional group, Stillwater, also bared a strikingly close stylistic resemblance to Bad Company — and for good reason. Straight out the gate, Bad Company achieved global notoriety as a supergroup, comprised of Mott the Hoople, Free and King Crimson alumni. And at the time the motion picture’s storyline would have taken place, during the early to mid-‘70s, Bad Company was revving up as one of the biggest bands in the world. Birthing such FM staples as “Bad Company,” “Can’t Get Enough,” “Movin’ On,” “Good Lovin’ Gone Bad,” “Feel Like Makin’ Love” and “Shooting Star,” the first two Bad Company LPs, Bad Company (1974) and Straight Shooter (1975) were stylistic companion records, and both enjoyed Top Ten, multi-platinum success. But with album #3, Bad Company stepped a smidge outside the “zone.” Arriving in stores worldwide 45 years ago today (February 21, 1976), Run with the Pack also was a chart-busting million-seller.
As if wrapped by Reynolds, the shiny silver packaging was eye-catching — the front cover image of papa wolf watching on as mama wolf nurses her pups. The inner gatefold photo depicted the band members holed up in a tiny apartment, surrounded by booze bottles, with a Bugs Bunny cartoon playing on the TV. Musically, the self-produced ten-song set oozed the signature Bad Company mystique. Down and dirty, sweet and soulful, bluesy and beautiful, each track is a bullet point highlight.
The record kicks off in fine fashion with a pair of tunes penned by co-founding guitarist, Mick Ralphs — the gritty and chunky, “Live for the Music,” coupled with “Simple Man” — a powerful track that smacks of such previous B.C. classics as “Bad Company” and “Feel Like Making Love.” Owning the notable line, “Freedom is the only thing that means a damn to me,” the song is polished by a convincing performance from co-founding frontman, Paul Rodgers, and accented by Ralph’s seemingly Neil Young-inspired guitar work.
Bursting with bona fide cock-rock swagger, “Honey Child” is brought to life by the punchy, defibrillator-like basslines of the late Boz Burrell. This one, when placed next to Rodgers’ slow and sultry, gospel-tinged heartbreak ballad, “Somebody Love Me,” makes for another magical yin and yang scenario. Orchestrated magnificently, the piano-driven, riff-heavy title track was one of the record’s mightiest moments. But, it can be argued that the shiniest gemstone of this musical treasure trove is Rodgers’ masterpiece breakup ballad, “Silver, Blue and Gold.” The lyrics — engaging. The melody — enchanting. In fact, it could be said that if Run with the Pack housed only ONE single track, this should be the one.  From: https://v13.net/2021/02/bad-company-run-with-the-pack-retro-album-review/