Record Reviews
📝 2096 reviews| Artist | Title | Review |
|---|---|---|
| Dire Straits | Dance ~EP~ Play | |
| Dire Straits | Alchemy | |
| Dire Straits | Alchemy | |
| Dire Straits | Brothers In Arms | |
| Dire Straits | Money For Nothing | |
| Don Dixon | EEE | |
| Willie Dixon | I Am The Blues | |
| Dog Soldier | Rock | |
| Donovan | Golden Hour | <p>Pye Golden Hour albums were great value for money, although they squeeze so many tracks on then that the sound was never marvelous. I bought this, Golden hour of the Searchers and Isaac Hayes - for £1.49 in Liverpool UK. This album has lots from his first two albums and several hit singles and is worth finding on vinyl for the nostalgia.</p><p>— <strong>Murray Greenberg</strong></p> |
| Donovan | What's Bin Did And What's Bin Hid | <p>Donovan's album debut, What's Bin Did and What's Bin Hid, presented his breakout British single, "Catch the Wind," and added an assortment of pleasant folky jams. Though he was often derided at the time as a pale imitation of Bob Dylan, there isn't a lot of evidence here; true, he does cover the Woody Guthrie song "Car Car (Riding in My Car)" and gives it some twang worthy of the master, but his style is his own, slanted toward the mysticism of British folk less than the earthiness of its American cousin. Donovan summons the proper age-old weariness for "Goldwatch Blues," gets a bit bluesy for "You're Gonna Need Somebody on Your Bond," and lets it all hang out for "Keep on Truckin'." [A 2002 reissue by Castle added four bonus tracks, including versions of "Catch the Wind" and "Colours," plus the B-sides "Why Do You Treat Me Like You Do" and "Every Man Has His Chain."]</p><p>— <b>John Bush</b></p> |
| Donovan | Catch The Wind | <p>Donovan's folky 1965 recordings for Pye Records (they were released in the U.S. by Hickory Records) bear only a superficial resemblance to the more hip pop material he began issuing a year later when he switched to Epic Records. Some of his famous bejeweled sensibility is already apparent in these tracks, but for the most part this is Donovan as a straight folksinger, and he isn't bad at it at all. His work from this period has been compared (usually unfavorably) to Bob Dylan, but the strongest influence at play in these songs is probably Bert Jansch, whose "Do You Hear Me Now" is covered here. In the end, the Pye tracks form a complete and distinct cycle in Donovan's legacy, separate from -- but not necessarily lesser than -- his more ornate pop material. There have been several compilations of these early songs issued by various labels, including this one from Castle Pulse, and any of them is probably sufficient to provide a taste of what Donovan was up to at the time.</p><p>— <strong>Steve Leggett</strong></p> |
| Doves | The Last Broadcast | <p>So I'm playing with my new office chair right now. The floor of my apartment is wood-finished and extremely warped, so there are all kinds of little bumps and valleys to roll over. Combine that with the fact that all the ball bearings and wheels are brand new and heavily viscous and I could amuse myself doing this for quite a while. I guess it's the simple things that give you pleasure after a long day at work, juggling projects and trying to get out of there at five. My job is pretty hectic and I usually come home all wound up, so it's good to have these little diversions to help myself. Tonight the stress has me feeling particularly goofy. Normally I wouldn't think of Manchester's Doves as an appropriate soundtrack for this kind of mood, but that's largely because until very recently I was only familiar with their first album, 2000's dark, murky Lost Souls. On that record, the band showed their facility with dark, claustrophobic textures and muted melodic statements, only occasionally indulging their impressive pop sense. And while their latest offering, The Last Broadcast, could hardly be called a wholesale revamping of their sound, it concentrates mostly on elements that the trio kept very subdued on their debut. For one thing, while Lost Souls was certainly nothing to sniff at, the band sounds infinitely more comfortable and confident here, placing more faith in their writing and relying less on production to put forth their ideas. The record still abounds with thoughtful audio details, mind you-- but here they're almost always employed in the service of melody. Even the exceptions to that rule-- the short instrumental tracks like "Intro" and "Where We're Calling From"-- build tension while moving toward the catharsis of the next fully-fleshed song. "Where We're Calling From" is a dense wall of swirling guitars and keyboards, growing ever thicker until finally evaporating, leaving the initial strums of "N.Y." in its place. "N.Y." is exultant in its first verse, all crashing guitars and soaring vocals. The instrumental midsection is one the band's finest moments, cut through with an unobtrusive string section and some surprisingly dynamic interplay. "Let's go while we can/ Put your finger on the map/ Who cares where it lands," sings Jez Williams as the song gathers steam behind him. It's one of several tracks that makes The Last Broadcast a brighter, and in some ways more accessible, album than its predecessor. Elsewhere, the band lay down a ream of excellent songs beginning with "Words," a steadily chugging confection of astral guitar, vocal harmonies and glockenspiel that does a remarkable job of boring a limited melody straight into your memory. It's followed by the loping, seven-minute "There Goes the Fear," which is a strong candidate for one of the band's best songs yet, its bounce befitting the subdued melody and diving, almost country-ish slide guitar that swoops in the background. Doves have always been a band who could come out swinging with a powerful pop song when they wanted to, and this just proves that they should do it more often. A few songs naturally point back to the band's original direction, such as the haunting, noir "Friday's Dust," with its crystalline strings (arranged by Sean O'Hagan and Marcus Holdaway) and strange production. Devoid of percussion, the song floats along almost like something Talk Talk might have produced in their later years, replete with ghostly clarinets and odd smatterings of brass. Of course, "Pounding" bounces right back with a... well, pounding rhythm and a sterling melody, as well as some spirited rhythm guitar. The boys get downright proggy on the intro to "The Sulphur Man," with sweeping strings deceptively setting the stage for what turns out to be a relatively modest song, albeit one cut through with all sorts of inventive little flourishes, like the strings that rise in the verses, threatening to overtake the vocals before abruptly backing down and retreating to the background, only to attempt another coup a few seconds later. It's those details that make a good song great, and that's what makes The Last Broadcast an easy record to come back to-- chances are you missed an awful lot the first few times you listened. "Caught by the River" closes things on a high note, riding out on a sturdy acoustic guitar frame adorned by the band's usual sonic fireworks and pushed forward by some very economical drumming. To the listener's benefit, the electric guitar parts aren't so economical, and the band masterfully layers soaring leads, ultimately ending on a glowing bed of reverb and clean guitar. It's a fittingly dramatic end to an album that's full of drama, without the tiresome excess-- a healthy balance if you ask me. Watch your toes while I chair-speed back to the stereo to give it another spin.</p><p>— <strong>Joe Tangari, Pitchfork</strong></p> |
| Dr Hook | A Little Bit More | |
| Nick Drake | Five Leaves Left | <p>It's little wonder why Drake felt frustrated at the lack of commercial success his music initially gathered, considering the help he had on his debut record. Besides fine production from Joe Boyd and assistance from folks like Fairport Convention's Richard Thompson and his unrelated bass counterpart from Pentangle, Danny Thompson, Drake also recruited school friend Robert Kirby to create most of the just-right string and wind arrangements. His own performance itself steered a careful balance between too-easy accessibility and maudlin self-reflection, combining the best of both worlds while avoiding the pitfalls on either side. The result was a fantastic debut appearance, and if the cult of Drake consistently reads more into his work than is perhaps deserved, Five Leaves Left is still a most successful effort. Having grown out of the amiable but derivative styles captured on the long-circulating series of bootleg home recordings, Drake assays his tunes with just enough drama -- world-weariness in the vocals, carefully paced playing, and more -- to make it all work. His lyrics capture a subtle poetry of emotion, as on the pastoral semi-fantasia of "The Thoughts of Mary Jane," which his soft, articulate singing brings even more to the full. Sometimes he projects a little more clearly, as on the astonishing voice-and-strings combination "Way to Blue," while elsewhere he's not so clear, suggesting rather than outlining the mood. Understatement is the key to his songs and performances' general success, which makes the combination of his vocals and Rocky Dzidzornu's congas on "Three Hours" and the lovely "'Cello Song," to name two instances, so effective. Danny Thompson is the most regular side performer on the album, his bass work providing subtle heft while never standing in the way of the song -- kudos well deserved for Boyd's production as well.</p><p>—<strong>Ned Raggett</strong></p> |
| Nick Drake | Pink Moon | |
| Dream Theater | Greatest Hits | <p>Dream Theater's Greatest Hit (....And 21 Other Pretty Cool Songs) collection is a strange animal indeed. Despite the band's amazingly longevity -- they cut their first demo in 1986 -- as a touring act and as a steadily selling concern in the product marketplace, they've had exactly one hit, sort of, in 1992's "Pull Me Under" from the album Images and Words. That they are still together and still a viable touring and recording enterprise is testament enough in these strange times. Apparently, though, that's not enough for them. Drummer Mike Portnoy and his bandmembers assembled this collection with a few twists that make for rather curious listening. Divided into two discs collecting 22 cuts, the first oddity is that the epic, intricate pro-pop metallic jams they are most closely associated with are almost entirely absent here. In their place, as Portnoy goes to great lengths to explain in his liner notes (which amount to more of an apologia than anything else), are a "dark side" disc reflecting the more riff-centric, metallic, guitar and double bass drum tunes that have been influenced by everyone from Black Sabbath and Judas Priest to Iron Maiden and Metallica. The other disc, is, predictably enough, the "light side." Here, the tunes reflect the more melodic, accessibly progressive aspect of the band that has been influenced by, "...U2, Pink Floyd, Journey, and Peter Gabriel." Whatever. What's worse, Portnoy somehow thinks that this set is for the uninitiated, and claims he sees it almost as a "TV commercial or a coming attraction for a film...something that will lure the viewers/listeners in and inspire them to dig deeper, eventually leading them to experience the 'full picture'..." Apparently, he hasn't been paying attention to what's been going on in a marketplace increasingly reliant on digital media.</p><p>As for the music itself, here's the rub: the only real thing to attract veteran fans are some 2007 remixes including "Pull Me Under" (they messed with their sole pop culture classic!!!!), "Take the Time," and "Another Day," and edits that include shortened versions of "Lie," "Home," "Misunderstood," and "Solitary Shell." There is also an alternate album mix of the track "Through Her Eyes." The cover sticker reflects this, but the actual track listing on the back of the package does not. Musically, if you are a Dream Theater fan and need to have everything, you already know these tracks, and have them in at least two versions -- live and studio -- anyway, and the remixes are nothing whatsoever to write home about. If you are a novice, you'd be better of picking up one of the band's truly classic recordings such as Images and Words, Change of Seasons, Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence, or Scenes from a Memory to hear their studio magic, on the one hand, or, Live Scenes from New York on the other. This double-disc makes little sense. Excess is one of the greatest things about Dream Theater: they are one of the best live bands on the planet and understand that big rock & roll is about the show as well as great musicianship, but sometimes, even grand excess is a little to o grand for its own good; this is just such a case.</p><p><strong>—Thom Jurek</strong></p> |
| Julie Driscoll | Faces And Places | |
| Julie Driscoll | Best Of Julie Driscoll | <p>British mod singer Julie Driscoll (vocals) quickly became a musical icon as one of the central figures behind the groundbreaking R&B-fused blue-eyed soul aggregate Brian Auger & the Trinity, with Auger (keyboards)Dave Ambrose (bass) and Clive Thacker (drums). Her supple yet commanding voice slashes and burns on this 11-song collection derived primarily from the her own Open (1967) and Streetnoise (1968) albums. It also includes the non-LP cover of the Basement Tapes-era Bob Dylan/Rick Danko composition "This Wheel's on Fire." The Trinity's slightly acidic take yielded the group their only Top Five hit in the U.K. and became something of a cultural landmark, resurfacing in 1992 as the theme to the BBC-TV comedy Absolutely Fabulous. Driscoll rivals the likes of Dusty Springfield in terms of sheer emotive and interpretive skills as evidenced by her rousing and righteous reading of Nina Simone's "Take Me to the Water." With Auger's proto-funky Hammond B-3 organ leading the way, the revision of David Ackles' "Road to Cairo" adopts on an undercurrent of introverted sensuality, simmering just below the surface of her ethereal intonations. Additional standouts on the suitably-monikered Best of Julie Driscoll are the brassy "Why (Am I Treated So Bad)" and the obligatory late-'60s anthem "Let the Sunshine In" from the play Hair. This compilation is both appropriate for the curious and a good place to find "This Wheel's on Fire" for parties wishing to retire their 7" singles or otherwise well-worn vinyl.</p><p>— <strong>Lindsay Planer</strong></p> |
| Julie Driscoll | Jools And Brian | <p>The debut album from the formation of Julie Driscoll, Brian Auger & The Trinity, this record introduced to America a group that had been making some noise in England for some time already. The album is a bit fragmented, containing a few Julie Driscoll solo tracks, as well as some Auger/Trinity efforts without Driscoll. One of the most amazing moments opens the record: Driscoll's solo hit (in Europe), "I Know You Love Me Not." A swirling, churning string arrangement - not unlike a psychedelic Phil Spector - is the ground work for Driscoll's steely vocals. She come across as a combination of Dusty Springfield and Annie Lennox with a passionate performance. It's truly one of the great lost British records of the era, and alone is worth the price of the record. There is, though, a lot more. Some excellent moments for Auger, such as the swinging-jazz drenched. "Kiko" illustrate what incredible jazz chops they had. There is also an excellent cover of "Didn't Want To Have To Do It," which renders this John Sebastion classic is a new, soulful light. An inspiring, fresh debut, and swinging London at it's finest.</p><p>— <strong>Matthew Greenwald</strong></p> |
| Julie Driscoll | Season Of The Witch |
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