Wovenhand - Ten Stones

Another band that I've discovered just in the past couple of years. I'd love to see this guy live but so far he hasn't wandered out far enough into the wilderness to wind up in my neighborhood. I have a feeling I'd enjoy meeting him.





~~ originally posted March 29, 2008 at ProgArchives.com ~~

Religion is a strange thing; many resist, youth rebel against, and millions deny. Yet the vast majority of the world claim one religion or another as their own. We mark time with a calendar that separates human epochs based on the birth of a religious figure that many reject. Long-formed traditions in nearly every culture have their roots in religious beliefs or superstitions, even those where the origins have been clouded by history. Wars are fought, buildings blown apart, nations and peoples laid bare; lives are defined and sometimes made forfeit all in the name of religion. Words and names mouthed as holy by some are uttered as profane by others, and both hate the other as a result. We live on a planet full of men where it is written both were formed by an all-knowing and infinitely powerful creator, yet disease and poverty and despair abound. Holy books are filled with tales of punishment, retribution, trials and a coming apocalyptic climax, and sometimes include incidents of the most horrific depravity that should cause rational-thinking people to recoil in disgust and fear. And in the end all religion is based on an expression of faith; though not always on hope, which the ancient Greeks (perhaps wisely) considered the most powerful of evils loosed from Pandora’s Box. Nietzsche declared hope to be the cruelest of emotions because of its power to prolong the miseries which of necessity must be present for hope to have any authority.

It’s all a very messy business.

David Eugene Edwards recognizes the interlaced contradictions and darkness that blanket this place we call home, and doesn’t shy away from the view. Wovenhand music has always chronicled the journey of The Struggle, both with poignancy and often wanton despair, this latest album more so than any prior. And while hope may offer
little comfort or relief, neither does despair engulf the listener. It is what it is, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. Weak and timid souls need not apply.

The album explodes with torrid guitar blasts and a fervent drumbeat on “The Beautiful Axe” (the Blood Axe?), another lyrically disjointed yet poetic gaze to heaven written by Edwards; piously declaring “To the humble He has given grace, from the proud He hides his face” and following with an almost gleefully fatalistic chant of “Joy has come in the mind that I see - beautiful the axe that flies at me”. Wovenhand seem to have abandoned any pretense of docile Americana folk as Edwards channels generations of whiskey-breathed and grizzled tent-revival evangelists who stoked the fear-inspired Christian principles that evolved across Middle America between the ages of post-Civil War carpetbaggers and the free-form Chautauqua movements of the early twentieth century. Nine or ten more like this one and Southern blood would boil in righteous indignation and rail against a world of depravity and evil intention.

But a basic tenant of those same homespun Ameri-Christian principles is humility, finding its genesis in biblical proverbs such as “every proud man is an abomination to the Lord; I assure you that he will not go unpunished”; and “if you have foolishly been proud or presumptuous, put your hand on your mouth; for the stirring of milk brings forth curds, and the stirring of anger brings forth blood”. “Horsetail” expands on this theme amid a jangling, almost country guitar riff and the dire warning “if you think you can see it in your hand then you are blind; He brings the whirlwind to scatter your fire - you cannot reach Him, no - not from your tallest spire”. Maxims to live by, courtesy a band of scruffy and tattooed post-grunge rockers.

As with any proper Christian-themed record there must be a rapturous, apocalyptic song, and “Not One Stone” delivers that for this album. Edwards describes the final act in which the chosen one returns to exact vengeance and deliver holy justice on this thing He once created. Everything will be laid waste says the holy book; not one stone will remain atop another:

“On my way down this weary melody ends; the host of heaven descends, down beneath this bleeding ground - behold the lamb”

But Edwards is a red-blooded American at heart, sometimes even more so than he is a wild-eyed rural evangelist, and has a tendency to wander thematically with his music on occasion. Some of his best work has been odd covers and musical landscapes of dusty roads and dry fields cracked with the rise of too many hot suns. He is guilty of both indulgences on this record, starting with the undecipherable yet maudlin lyrics, bleak piano and rambling acoustic guitar on “Cohawkin Road” and “Iron Feather”. While I’ve no idea what these songs are about the return of piano, strings and other acoustic instruments recall his earliest work with both 16 Horsepower and this band, and are in the finest Americana tradition of Springsteen’s ‘Nebraska’, Mellencamp's ‘Rough Harvest’ and most everything Tom Waits ever recorded. Best listened to driving down a desolate country road in a rusted-out Oldsmobile on a dry autumn evening.

That Appalachian country swagger and guttural Jim Carroll-like worldliness seen on earlier Wovenhand albums rear their head again in the form of a weekend night wild ride on “White Knuckle Grip”, a sauntering good-old-boy urban cowboy musical cruise along dark and foreboding streets of trouble and whiskey philosophy. Strange change of pace for this album, but probably not so strange considering the juxtaposition of faith and fallow lives this band so comfortably embraces.

Like I said before, Edwards’ other penchant is toward seminal cover tunes, including the Bill Withers R&B classic “Ain’t no Sunshine” on the band’s debut album; and John Fogerty’s “Bad Moon Rising” and Joy Division’s “Day of the Lords” with 16 Horsepower. On this album Edwards adopts the late A.C. Jobim’s bossa nova
standard “Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars” (“Corcovado”) as his own, a song that has been recorded by everyone from Miles Davis to Cliff Richard to Queen Latifah. Under Edwards’ supervision the tune takes on the semblance of a morbid, almost fatalistic existential lament. Possibly one of the weirdest and most disturbing jazz covers ever recorded.

The band reflect their mountain Western roots with the rollicking, almost post-punk wailing tribute to the old Kiowa Native American chief Kicking Bird on the song of the same name. An interesting figure to honor, as Kicking Bird was widely derided by follow Indians back in the 19th century as he became one of the first to treaty with the U.S. government, only to see the treaty broken and his people herded into Oklahoma reservations far from their ancestral mountain home; and himself dead at the suspected hand of a saboteur from his own race.

More of the acoustic punk-meets-bluegrass dirge that landed 16 Horsepower the label of ‘goth-country’ on the angry and stark “Kingdom of Ice”, another heavily acoustic song with sarcastic overtones on the false sense of power and control over nature and self-determination exhibited by modern man.

The band brings things home to roost with the peaceful, eagle-soaring-across-a-mountain-range “His Loyal Love”, written by band bassist Pascal Humbert and sounding all the world like a nature hymn sung in an open meadow. A peaceful ending to a raucous and otherwise disturbing album. The band adds a short flourish with an instrumental soundscape to close things out.

As an American who has lived through the high point of our landing men on the Moon and finding a cure for polio, to the current state of watching a once great nation possibly wheezing out its death throes caused by decades of excess, hubris and arrogance; I sometimes feel that there is little tolerance or interest in exploring and reflecting on the generations of experiences that brought us to where we are. But it is important to do so nonetheless, and also important (as is the case with any peoples) to understand the elements that make up one’s whole. Wovenhand have moved beyond the pale of traditional Americana music to a new place that is both frightening and morbidly fascinating: one can’t help but be drawn in and repulsed at the same time. Anything that can cause such powerful emotions must be considered an experience worth having, for the enlightenment it brings if nothing else. This is not a musical masterpiece, but it is an essential tapestry of a conflicted and complex people who continue to grow, thrive and survive despite all odds (and possibly even despite natural order and justice). Like I said, it is what it is, so enjoy the show.

peace

Cerberus Shoal - The Land We All Believe In

More cool stuff from back East. These guys all met at college in Massachussetts some years ago and formed Cerberus Shoal.
Eventually some of them would leave to form the current Americana alt.acid folk band Fire on Fire, but just before that they pumped out one more CD as Cerberus Shoal. Unlike their previous efforts, which were all over the place musically, this one is an awful lot like what Fire on Fire would end up sounding like. I've read they started out as a punk band, morphing quickly into a sort of avant-garde post-rock collective who seemed to change like chameleons every couple of years or so. The band also has several collaborations to their credit, none of which are really worth seeking out frankly. This is by far my favorite album from the band.

~~ originally posted December 10, 2008 at ProgArchives.com ~~

I seem to have gotten really obsessed with Cerberus Shoal of late. I mean, like getting on a bus and going to Maine and stalking them obsessed. Every seen that movie ‘What About Bob”? Kind of like that.


Nah, not really. I probably should erase that before posting this review or they might get a restraining order or something. Hopefully not, I’m not really a nut case. But I do love this album, having come upon it (and the band) sort of backwards via Caleb Mulkerin and Colleen Kinsella’s later work with Big Blood and their newly-released album as Fire on Fire. Pick that one up if you’re into carefully constructed chaos posing as post-punk Americana folk by the way; you’ll be glad you did.

Cerberus Shoal seem to be something of a hidden treasure as far as progressive / indie music goes. I guess they are no more since Kinsella and Mulkerin have moved on to the whole Fire on Fire thing. But during the band’s ten or so years of existence they managed to crank out a dozen albums as well as any number of collaborations and odd side projects. Pretty prolific for a group that doesn’t seem to have any central thematic compass or even definable style. I’ve read their roots were in punk, although you certainly wouldn’t discern that from anything I’ve heard of theirs. The stuff is kind of hard to find too, since most of it is out-of-print or only available from side-street vendors. I managed to pick this one and a few others up for not much more than the cost of postage from various Amazon resellers. This one cost me all of $4 USD plus shipping, brand new. Great deal – too bad the band probably made little to nothing off the sale. Maybe I’ll send them a Christmas card or something.

Their earlier work seems to start off as more like loosely organized post-rock, but eventually they discover horns and accordions and stuff, and you can’t call it post-rock if there are horns and squeeze boxes. Efrim Menuck would never stand for that sort of thing.

But eventually the band apparently made their way from the Boston avant-garde scene to their current digs in Maine, and their sound evolved into something much more acoustic, a bit more grounded in social and cultural themes, and heavily imbued with folk and indeterminable ethnic tones. I would as easily believe they are a bunch of first-generation Iron Curtain immigrants as former music-school students from New England.

This particular album captures the band in the latter stages of their transition to an earthy folk act, not of the Devendra Banhart neo-folk family, but closer to the Larkin Grimm mold. In fact, several members guest on Grimm’s latest album ‘Parplar’ under their current handle Fire on Fire.

Anyhoo, the music is pretty interesting stuff, even if the band does manage to almost screw everything up by interrupting a romping folk chant with a really cheesy piece of spoken-word pseudo-goth thing in the middle of “The Ghosts are Greedy” that sounds like an acoustic, laid-back version of Abiogenesi with a vaguely Canadian accent. Oh well, I guess there’s a reason these guys aren’t on the Billboard charts.

No matter, the rest of the album more than makes up for this faux pas, and that’s what the skip button on a CD player was made for anyway. The title track sounds very much like the acoustic folksy stuff the Fire on Fire is currently doing, with Kinsella’s borderline falsetto and slightly trembling vocals adding just the right touch of both grit and charm. I’ve no idea what they’re rambling on about, and the liner notes are about as unorganized as the band appears to be on their youTube videos. But the trappings belie a carefully constructed arrangement of acoustic strings, percussion (including some sort of unidentifiable bell-type thingies) and what sounds like maybe a banjo. I’m guessing there’s a left- leaning political message here if you really want to dig, but I’m cool with just kicking back and enjoying the ambience of the music myself.

Next up is “Wyrm”, a sort of weird blend of folk, calypso, Latin groove and mildly-hypnotic rhythm combined with bassist Chriss Sutherland’s (at least I think it’s his) vocals babbling on in a made-up dialect that also makes no sense, but once again I could care less. After a while the band reverts back a bit to their post-rock and mild drone days with an extended instrumental break that doesn’t do much but kind of wander along aimlessly, before kicking back into the gibberish-and-rhythm groove to bring the song to a close. It’s not ‘Thick as a Brick’, but I’m left feeling a little more cheerful in a world where there’s too little of that so the time is well-spent.

After a predictably goofy and strange “Pie for the President” that makes about as much sense as the title, and the aforementioned “The Ghosts are Greedy” things pick up considerably. The last half-hour of the album consists of two tracks (“Junior” and “Taking out the Enemy”), both lumbering, unhurried with relatively simple arrangements and melodic stretches interrupted at odd intervals by moody transitions and well-constructed two and three part vocal passages. “Taking out the Enemy” adds a chorus of pretty much the whole band chanting “here I am; here I am – sending out aeroplanes” with a three-syllable enunciation of “aeroplanes” that’s really catchy and makes the song work very well as a comforting closing to an overall easy to enjoy hour of music.

I can’t say as Cerberus Shoal are the next coming of modern progressive music; in fact, the key members of the band have since moved on to a sound that regresses from this transitional record to their next incarnation that is even more primitive and vaguely timeless than this one manages to be. But in the end I seem to have developed a soft and somewhat sentimental spot in my music consciousness and my Zen player for a record that has to be appreciated for its reverent respect for the craft of music if nothing else. And that is something worth acknowledging indeed. Thanks to these musicians for staying their course despite the lack of broad recognition or fame – you have one devoted fan at least. Four stars.

peace

Ruby Throat

KatieJane Garside has always been an enigmatic character, from the days she fronted and then abandoned 90s cabaret-goth rockers Daisy Chainsaw right up to recent years that found her engaged in performance and photograph exhibits as a scantily (and sometimes un-) clad punk waif. In her Chainsaw days Garside may have inspired later antics the likes of Britney Spears and Courtney Love with her penchant for shock visuals including head shaving, face-smeared makeup and sometimes barely coherent stage performances. This latest incarnation of the lovely but possibly disturbed Garside is just as hard to get your head around, but may finally capture the true strength of her tender demons.

Ruby Throat displays a completely different, and disarmingly seductive, view of Garside’s inner psych; namely, a slow, sparse and largely acoustic setting that emphasizes her innate and undeniable vocal talent, backed by just enough of an instrumental tapestry to keep the experience from being labeled ‘for adults only’.

At her finest Garside has the ability to carry a tune dripping with dulcet tones and a homing pigeon-like sense of musical direction that can cause healthy males (and probably some females) to look around furtively just to make sure nobody in viewing distance is casting disapproving puritanical glares their way. This woman oozes sensuality from every pore; hence the name of ‘Ruby Throat’, I suppose.

The backing instrumentation varies from barely perceptible (“John 3:16”) to a sort of spaghetti-western bluesy funk (“Dear Daniel”) to the title track that plucks out acoustic guitar chords accented with harmonic interludes and the occasional barely-controlled soprano wail.

The mood doesn’t vary all that much from track to track, but after a while that doesn’t seem to matter as Garside draws the listener in with her hypnotic crooning and chillingly personal vignettes centered on relationships, tattered lives and dilapidated soundscapes. It’s a long way from her days of power chords and self-destructive antics, but perhaps that’s the point. KatieJane and co-conspirator Chris Wittingham have created something delicate, soothing and profoundly personal with Ruby Throat’s ‘The Ventriloquist’; one can only hope Garside herself has found the kind of inner peace her words and voice project in these songs.

Highly recommended.

peace

Alina Simone

Okay, I'll admit to being just a bit smitten with Ms. Simone and her music lately. In particular her latest album "Everyone is Crying out to me, Beware". That's not her picture on the cover BTW; it is a picture of the late Russian punk-folk poet and musician Yanka Dyagileva, who drowned under mysterious circumstances in 1991. At the time of her death none of her substantial body of work had ever been officially released, although since then some of her music has been remastered and released in various forms. Most of it is still hard to find, although if you click here you can download a lot of her songs (legally I believe, although it will help if you know a little Russian).

What I find most interesting about Ms. Simone's interpretations is that she takes what are mostly rather raw, punk-leaning tunes and turns them into really gorgeous folk songs with tasteful instrumentation and just the right touch of emotion. Okay, at times Simone goes a bit over-the-top, but that's okay as far as I'm concerned. She captures something infinitely mournful and yet beautiful about Yanka's music on this album, and I recommend it very highly to anyone who is interested in contemporary Russian music, or just folk songs with well-orchestrated arrangements.

I was so taken by her singing that I bought two of her other CDs, 'prettier in the dark' and 'placelessness' (both labeled in lower-case on the artwork so I'm listing them that way here as well). These aren't quite as wonderful as 'Everyone..', but Ms. Simone has a very comfortable and appealing voice so you'll probably enjoy her singing anyway. I think I read somewhere she's working on some Britney Spears covers; can't wait to hear what that sounds like [LOL].

One more plus for Ms. Simone: I sent her an email to let her know I had bought her Yanka CD and loved it. She replied the very next day, which I thought was pretty cool.

One last thing - all the songs on 'Everyone..' are sung in Russian, but really that won't put you off at all - it's the arrangements and Ms. Simone's voice that carry this music anyway.

Some of the songs below are from that album; the rest are mostly from her other two albums. I would particularly recommend "Half of my Kingdom" (love the horns!).

Enjoy!

The Third Estate - Years Before the Wine

This is a rather obscure album that was recorded by a handful of college kids back in the mid-seventies. It was a little dated even then, but I like the overall feel, the sincerity, and the tasty guitar work. I've shared a few emails with the guitarist Robert Everett, who is now a college professor. He still plays and does some recording, though not progressive music. He seems like a nice guy.

~~ originally posted March 29, 2008 at ProgArchives.com ~~

This has become one of the most treasured albums in my collection, even though I only first heard it less than a few months ago. The unadulterated purity of seventies progressive rock runs like a clear mountain brook through these songs, and even after nearly wearing the grooves off the vinyl already I still haven’t tired of listening to it.

The Third Estate may or may not have been a proper band, I’m not really sure. Since picking up what turned out to be a pirated CD version of the record several months ago, I have searched for more information about these guys with little luck. When I bought a legitimate copy of the Void Records 2006 “30th Anniversary Limited Edition” (on vinyl no less!) I was hoping the liner notes would shed more light on the band and/or the album. No such luck. The liner notes consist of one sheet of paper, a reproduced copy of the original mimeographed sheet the group included with their 1976 private-label pressing of the record when they were students at Louisiana State University. Bummer. The credits say the record was produced at Capital City Sound Studios in Baton Rouge, Louisiana in 1976, but I strongly suspect that there are tracks here that were recorded earlier and got packaged into the vanity release later. This suspicion is reinforced by a 7-inch red-vinyl single that is included with the Void reissue, which contains a couple of singles from group leader/guitarist/bassist/vocalist/composer Robert Everett, one of them including fellow band member Chas Harrell and dating back to 1968. So either these guys knew each other as teenagers, or they spent an awful lot of years at LSU, or they recorded this stuff earlier and found the money to get the record pressed at a later date. This is all speculation, but something to ponder while listening to the music (which I’m doing quite often lately). I wrote to Robert Everett (now Dr. Everett) and to a guy I think is Chas Harrell looking for more information, but apparently those letters must have come across as nerdy stalking or something because neither of them ever responded.

The basic premise of the album is supposed to be a reflection on the French Revolution of 1789. I remember studying French revolutionary history myself as a liberal-arts undergraduate, but that was nearly thirty years ago and I’m not sure now what it was about that revolution that would have struck these guys enough for them to write an entire album about it. I guess the influence of French Cajuns down there in the Louisiana bijou might have played a part.

And the whole album doesn’t really seem to be about those events anyway, or if it is then there is a level of abstraction that has to be considered. The first side of the vinyl album is distinctly different lyrically than the back side. The opening track sets the stage in 18th century France, but the remaining three songs are reflective and speak of introspection and despair and sorrow from what seems to be a first-person point of view. The back side of the album on the other hand contains four tunes that detail the progression of events in 1789 that led to the storming of the Bastille, killing of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette as well as the dispensing of their daughter and imprisonment of Louis XVII, although the sequence of events in Everett’s lyrics seem a bit muddled when compared to the actual historical record. A bit of creative license no doubt.

Anyway, back to the music. Everett plays guitar throughout, as does Harrell, with Everett also providing bass tracks and Jerry Lang playing drums on most of the songs. Everett has a distinctive style of playing that I can’t quite describe but that is steeped in the mid-seventies. When I heard the opening strains of the title track for the first time it reminded me bands like Spirit, Seals & Crofts and CSNY – easy and free-handed, kind of lazy yet expansive melodic sounds that just seem to flow from the strings to your ears. Very relaxing music to listen to. Everett and Harrell both seem to have explored the various riffs quite a bit, possibly helped in their creative endeavors by stimulants (or maybe just by the mood of the times).

After the opening guitar instrumental one Fae Ficklin (possibly the same young lady who appears with outstretched arms in a white robe on the back cover of the album, not sure) offers up the first vocals on the album. For some reason this is the only track she appears on, which is too bad because she has one of those timeless and rich folk voices that seemed to be so plentiful back then. Comparisons to Sandy Denny are always inevitable when discussing contemporary female folk singers, but I’m also reminded of Buffy Sainte-Marie and even Joni Mitchell a little. Jerry Lang adds the rhythm of a güiro gourd for a mild Latin feel on the refrain, and both Everett and Harrell play multiple guitar tracks over the soft-rock drumming that sets a timeless and pensive mood for the music. This composition seems to be intended to establish the mood of the people of the third estate in the late eighteenth century leading up to their revolution, with lyrics telling of despair and a pending upheaval. Everett’s string- bending electric guitar riff atop Harrell’s strumming acoustic rhythm is quite a beautiful thing to hear.

“Useless Things” follows in a similar lyrical vein but with only Everett performing on acoustic guitar with his mellow vocals being overdubbed by his own backing vocals. The liner notes say there is only a guitar on this track but there is clearly an organ of some sort being played in the background, probably by Everett.

The longest and most intricate track on the album is “Look at Me”, which opens with piano and a picked electric guitar before ramping up to a funky groove and Eastern-sounding guitar riff that carries on for most of the song. Thematically this seems to be the transitional song to the back half of the album where the events of the revolution itself unfold. Around the three minute mark the music morphs into a soft folk-rock, Al Stewart-like ditty that is musically undistinguished but which does seem to make the appropriate mood shift to the more forceful tracks that will follow. Everett has a great and sustained guitar solo for the last several minutes to end this side of the album.

Side B kicks up with “Kings”, and here Harrell takes over the vocals from Everett. This is also the only track composed solely by Harrell. The dated production results in his voice seeming to be rather hollow, but again the combination of strumming acoustic guitar with Everett’s soaring electric chords makes for a rhythmic flow that will get your foot tapping even while Harrell is causally and sarcastically crooning “Hail the King”.

“Puppet City” contains the most inflected percussion on the album with Everett shaking maracas, Harrell pumping a musical saw and drummer Jerry Lang scraping the guiro again in addition to shaking some sort of bells and keeping the beat by slapping together a couple of claves. Everett again cuts loose with some tasty guitar work, but for the most part this is a rhythmic but rather restrained track that describes the stirring of the third estate and the beginning of the assault on the French royalty. Surprising restrained considering the subject matter.

And finally the time comes for action with “Think it’s Time”. Everett and Harrell both strum away on their guitars while softly but resolutely chanting “Think it’s time for you to go! When you leave… we shall be… set free”.

And finally the overthrow occurs. The band manages to compress the bulk of ten year’s worth of events into a five minute song and don’t seem too concerned with historical accuracy, but the climax is here nonetheless. Everett adds piano and a fairly prominent organ track to the mix here, and after a brief lull in the music and a martial beat the deeds are done amid recorded crowd noises, anticlimactic feedback and muddled monolog. The ending to the album is surprisingly abrupt.

This is a really seductive album that loses much in my rather sterile description of the various tracks. It really has to be taken as a contiguous piece of work and listened to in it’s entirety to truly appreciate. These are the albums that true progressive music fans live for – ones that are like gems buried beneath granite rocks just waiting to enrich our lives when we discover them. I’m going to give this four stars even though I’m tempted to give it five. Someone else is going to review it soon and they will spring for the five stars. Perhaps I’ll revisit this myself at some point. But in any case I’ll close with a very hearty and enthusiastic recommendation for this album. If you are a fan of progressive music you will almost surely find this one to be a very welcome and often-played addition to your collection. Thanks to Void for bringing it back to life after all these years.

peace

Check out most of the album at last.fm

Ramases - Space Hymns

I came across a scuffed up copy of this CD a while back and knew as soon as I saw it that this was something I was going to really like. The backing band is none other than the original four members of the 70s pop-rock band 10CC. You can hear some of their influence in the music, but really there's nobody quite like Ramases; he is someone you have to experience for yourself.

~~ originally posted May 9, 2008 at ProgArchives.com ~~

“We are most probably existing on a molecule inside the material of, perhaps, a living thing in the next size up.”

Sound familiar? Just about everyone has had this cosmic phylogeny conversation at some point, either as the person doing the positing, or while listening to some other stoner marveling in the wonder of his ‘discovery’ of the uncanny parallels between infinite space and molecular biology. It ranks right up there with the one about your perception of the color blue versus mine. Pubescent contemplation of the highest order, for sure.

But in this case the words are written in the liner notes of ‘Space Hymns’, one of the more unusual acid- folk-meets-philosophy albums of the late sixties/early seventies, and spawned from one of the more unusual characters around then.

Barrington Frost (aka Martin Raphael, aka Ramases) was a fascinating and clearly disturbed individual who had a chance visit from the spirit of the Egyptian Pharaoh Ramesses (presumably Ramesses the Great, the one upon whom ten plagues were visited before freeing the Jews under Moses to begin their Biblical exodus). Apparently Frost became convinced he was in fact the reincarnation of Ramesses, and his calling was to spread the truth about the true nature of the universe and mankind’s place in it, so he proceeded to rename himself Ramases (and his wife Selket) and get about the business of spreading his message through music. After two false starts with some forgotten singles, the great Ramases found himself in the company of a group of young musicians who were running Strawberry Studios in England and managed to put together this album which featured not only some tasty psych and folk- inspired tunes, but also was graced with one of the early and most spectacular covers Roger Dean would ever produce. You just can’t make up stories like this one.

Or can you? Other than the fact Ramases and his spacey wife missed the acid rock age by several years, there are a few other seeming inconsistencies to this story. First, those studio musicians who engineered and played backing on his album were none other than the entire original lineup of the seventies art-rock darlings 10cc. This in itself raises some questions, as Eric Stewart, Lol Creme, Kevin Godley and especially Graham Gouldman had already been making a very good living as anonymous ‘ghost’ musicians for a whole slew of largely fictitious bands under contract to ‘Super K Productions’ pop entrepreneurs Jerry Kasenetz and Jeff Katz. Among the band names the quartet recorded as were Amazon Trust, the New Wave Band, Ohio Express (not the 70’s bubble-gum band of the same name), Crazy Elephant, Hotlegs, Doctor Father, the Yellow Boom Boom Room, Frabjoy & Runcible Spoon, Fighter Squadron, Silver Fleet and Festival. Kasenetz and Katz were raking in plenty of dough with Gouldman penning stock pop tunes and the rest of the band recording them.

According to Gouldman the ‘Space Hymns’ project was largely the brainchild of Ramases and his wife, with the rest of the players just sitting around on the floor strumming acoustic guitars and reveling in the mystical experience of it all. But in listening to this album one has to question whether the young but very astute pre-10cc fab four had considerably more influence on the content then they may have claimed.

Another oddity is how such a minor and twice-failed musician could have not only landed Roger Dean to do the artwork, but also managed to get the label to spring for an expensive and over-the-top triple foldout cover. And to get them to distribute it not only in the UK but also Spain (with translated liner notes) and in Japan. Pretty neat trick for a relative unknown. The only thing that could have made the story less plausible (or more so, depending on your version of reality) would have been if David Bowie were somehow connected to the project. I wonder…..

Regardless of whether this should be viewed as another pre-10cc studio release or the prophetic wisdom of a reincarnated ancient deity is a matter for the cloud that encompasses everything else we’ll never know. As for the music though, I have to admit this is a pretty awesome album that, although quite uneven and uniformly dated-sounding, is still a moving experience to listen to even today. One has to wonder if the crazy guy’s second and final album will ever make it to CD.

The opening “Life Child” is not only the tightest and most accessible song on the album, it’s also the strongest argument for Godley, Crème, Stewart and Gouldman having much more of a hand in the production than any of them admit. While the slow, ethereal opening is reminiscent of “Space Oddity”, the thing picks up quickly and morphs into a catchy combination of strumming acoustic rhythm guitar, over-amped bass and psych electric guitar behind what is supposed to be Ramases himself on vocals (sounds an awful lot like Eric Stewart to me though). Around the middle this gives way to a lengthy pure psych blast of electric guitar before circling back around to the opening arrangement. Very tight, well-constructed and easily a strong single had it been released either a couple years earlier or later and been given proper promotion. The lyrics tell a disjointed tale of a disregarded deity destroyed by those he came to save: “came down to Earth to comfort me… so that my spirit could be free… we left you hanging on a hill… why won’t we ever do your will”.

Sound familiar? Perhaps, but even with the spiritual leaning I don’t get the impression this was intended to be a Christian message; after all, the guy who wrote it named himself after one of the Bible’s most nefarious nemeses. I have to say that if the entire album had the same sense of purpose as this track though, I might consider it a masterpiece. But alas, such is not the case.

“Oh Mister” is more in the vein of the sixties proto-versions of many future hard rockers like Manfred Mann, the Rolling Stones and the Kinks. The instrumentation is simpler, the lyrics almost nauseatingly repetitive (“Oh mister, hello – hello – hello”, etc.), and the tempo quite tepid. The extensive percussion makes things a bit more interesting, but not a whole lot.

Ramases launches into a full-fledged Donovan-like folk anthem on “And the Whole World” with fellow divine-being Selket providing not-quite harmonizing vocal accompaniment. The story here is almost identical to the late sixties Bee Gees tune “I Started a Joke”, but in this case apparently from the point of view of that unnamed space alien cum deity the album seems to be dedicated to.

“Quasar One” was also released as a single, but was mistakenly titled “Crazy One” on that disk. This is completely steeped in space psych with whining, other-wordly vocals and flat synthesized strings along with a choppy acoustic guitar riff. I’d compare the experience of hearing this one with a clear mind to peeking through 3d-glasses at something not designed in 3d. Oddly interesting, but not exactly the audience the artist was going for. This one was meant for smoke-filled eyes.

The fifth track on the album is either an absolutely brilliant work of art, or one of the most insipid pieces of music ever recorded. Whichever, once you’ve heard it the song will never leave your consciousness. Ever. Seriously, I’m warning you. Spoiler alert. “You’re the only one Joe, the only one”. “the only one Joe, the only one”. “the only one Joe, the only one”. Damn-it, stop!

The lyrics (that’s all of them above, repeated thirty times or so whilst the music varies itself slightly from iteration to iteration) come from a line uttered by Jennifer Salt to her boyfriend and soon-to-be male prostitute Jon Voight in Midnight Cowboy. You gotta’ wonder about a guy who could turn one line from a movie into an entire song.

“Earth-People”, like “Quasar One” is a whacked-out acid folk number with weird lines from an alien trying to get his message through to clueless and apathetic mankind. Kind of a very early version of Polyphonic Spree before they discovered paramilitary-style uniforms and radio.

Ramases credits himself as Martin Raphael playing sitar on “Molecular Delusions”, which as near as I can tell is a dirge-like psychedelic trance probably performed in the studio nude and late at night after a particularly tasty round of tea and brownies. The only thing I wonder about is who spits a disgusted curse (“f**k!”) out of the left speaker about a minute into the song. I guess that wasn’t caught in post- production.

Another single from album was “Balloon”, also supposedly mis-titled on the 33rpm disk as “Ballroom”. I’m fairly sure it is Crème singing on this one, and again this sounds more like a 1966 tune than one from 1971. Would have made for a decent Klaatu track on ‘Sir Army Suit’ or ‘3:47 E.S.T.’.

One of the more poignant tracks on the album is the acoustic hippy spiritual “Jesus”, which if one can dispense with 21st century jadedness is a pretty endearing song: “Jesus come back, so we’ll have no fear; come back Jesus and we’ll have no tears…”. Not much musically but another one like “You're the Only One” that will stick in your head long after the album stops playing.

The full weight of Eric Stewart and Lol Crème’s savvy with Moogs comes through on the final track from the original vinyl, “Journey to the Inside”. Ziggy Stardust-like creepy vocals, rocket launchpad synth riffs and wild reverberating sound effects make this another space-rock trip-out like “Space Oddity” or the cool part of “Frankenstein”. And just so you don’t miss out completely on the studio banter ala cosmic mysteries, the group includes a minute or so of rambling dialog about comparing distances between atomic particles and space galaxies. Yeah, good idea.

The CD reissue includes a more acoustic version of “Balloon” with prominent piano, as well as identical cuts of “Jesus” and “Oh Mister” with different titles. There’s also a tune called “Muddy Water” that sonically reminds me a whole lot of the first few Spirit albums. This is another folk number with rambling lyric chants that appear to have something to do with being spiritually cleansed in muddy water. Flashbacks all around….

This is one of those albums that hardcore prog music aficionados come across every so often and cherish even though they aren’t classics or particularly innovative or even all that great. What this album has though is stories, and character, and a messy uniqueness that you won’t ever find on a shiny and sterile shelf at your local megastore. This is the stuff you have to look for in obscure catalogs and on dubious foreign websites. Or even better, find stuck between a Rainbow Rising CD with cracked jewel case, and a K-Tel Rolling Stones compilation in some out-of-the-way, dingy and smelly used record store on the seedy side of town. Hopefully you’ll find yours there. Four stars and recommended to anyone who collects this stuff because it refuses to conform to any molds whatsoever. Rest in peace Ramases.

peace

Clem Does Blog!

Hello to all my on-line friends and anyone else who may have mistakenly found their way here.

I am "under construction" at the moment but should be up and running with at least some modicum of decent presentation soon.

Why am I here? Fair question; there are tons of blogs for you to spend your time reading, so I suppose mine will need to be distinctive to attract your attention. I am a huge music fan, particularly progressive and folk music (and especially progressive folk music), and I like to spend my time promoting music from people who put their heart into the effort and need whatever support they can get.

Here's what I plan to offer:

- lots of album reviews. I have written more than 700 on various sites around the web, and will bring some of those here or at least point to them.
- band bios, photos, and stuff like that, especially for acts not too many people have heard of.
- some sample and download links, but only where the artist themselves approve. Don't come here looking for pirate downloads; you can find those lots of other places and I don't want to end up in jail.
- conversation. The whole point of most folk music is to make personal connections, and you can't do that unless you converse with people. Well, maybe you can, but I wouldn't call those very healthy connections. Seriously, if the only human interaction you get is on-line then you should probably log off and go enjoy some sunshine outside. Don't worry, the web will be here when you get back.

Hope you come back - I'll get some stuff worth reading posted soon!

Clem