Running the gamut of country, pop, soul and R&B, the songs (recorded between 1968-1970) resonate swimmingly under the guidance of Capital staffer Wayne Shuler, son of famed producer Eddie Shuler. This 22-song collection by northern soul fave Bettye Swann shows Capitol Record’s valiant attempts to expand Swann’s listenership after her moderate 1967 hit “Make Me Yours” on Money Records. “Talking,” which Dangerfield once said was “a bit of a dig at old mates such as Mick Jones” for “suddenly getting all punk political,” matches muscle with humor apropos of their own power-pop cred. With nursery-rhyme candor and chugging riffs they wink at dirty housewives (“Classified Susie”), hurl sugary spittle at their record label (“Do the Contract Hustle”), create the best anti-acne anthem of all time (“TCP”) while soccer hooligans jack fists in “Cast of Thousands. They power-up the Hollies’ “Stop Stop Stop” with uncanny pop aplomb and deconstruct Dean Martin’s lounge classic “Sway” by blending Ramones chords and marimba rhythms with three-part harmonies and blipping horns. One simply can’t ignore the songs: Phil Spector nods and English teenage reminiscence make “Brickfield Nights” pop-punk sangfroid, equal parts sadness and joy. The second album from perhaps the most unsung rock & roll band of the late ’70s is an all-killer-no-filler mold-breaker that bottlenecks pop history (from Latin dance to American girl groups to Beatle-y sing-alongs) into beautifully concise anthems and (two) ballads. On Chris Smithers’ “I Feel The Same,” with its back-alley guitar and spare, last-call funk, Phillips sounds almost too comfortable telling us there’s no easy way to say goodbye. On Allen Toussaint’s foreboding title tune Philips holds back gracefully like Billie Holiday - which only makes a line like “As I watch you fall down to your knees/They don’t know that you’re praying to please” more poignant. John’s “Such a Night” and Eugene McDaniels’ ahead-of-its-time “Disposable Society” she's incontestably spirited despite subtexts of sadness, and the results are as breezy as they are beautiful.
Performance, her unheralded 1974 funky soul-jazz masterpiece - the fourth of seven albums she did for Kudu - finds Phillips commanding yet fragile, sassy yet vulnerable, destructive yet cathartic. On Dr.
THE GUITAR SOLO IN EIGHT MILES HIGH NODS DIRECTLY TO HOW TO
Yes, gnarly addictions and personal setbacks fueled that voice, and record companies were stumped on how to market it.
The Texas-born Esther Phillips had a gift for interpreting songs and bestowing upon a lyric the precise temperament of a shattered heart.
0 kommentar(er)
