disco talk

Press, Volume CXIII, Issue 33418, 27 December 1973, Page 13

disco talk

Leon Russell. Leon Live. Shelter Records, SHE 730-2 (3 record set). Leon Russell has not been with us very long, but already he is coming across as something of a faded rose from days gone by. He always seems to sound the same these days —certainly there is nothing new on this collection. The result is that long before this three record set has reached the middle the listener is afflicted with a mind deadening boredom. The audience at the Long Beach Arena (where this concert was recorded) is in a frenzy of excitement and enthusiasm from the beginning of side one to the end of side six. On this

basis alone it seems a little unfair to be harsh toward the music but it is true that what makes a good show does not always make a good recot'ding. Devotees of Russell will find much that is familiar on these records. “Queen of the Roller Derby," “Alcatraz,” “Sweet Emily,” and “Crystal Closet Queen” are all here. The collection does have its good points. For a live performance the recording is particularly ■ good with the great volumes of live sound being contained well by some very competent studio mixing. Finally, this is a cheap package. At $11.50 for three records (about $3.80 a record) this represents the best value, for a first release, to come on to the market for some time.— M.S.

David Bowie. Pinups. RCA Records. APL 1-0291. When RCA decided that David Bowie was liberally sprinkled with Star dust they invested $lOO,OOO in American promotion to ensure that they* in turn, were liberally sprinkled with something a little more substantial. And so it was that the company which supplies a great deal of defence equipment in the United States earned considerable additional funds from someone who, if not the Prince of Peace, was at least a princely piece. David Bowie is a good illustration of the impossible contradictions in Rock: the dictates of a youthful and untutored art and the constraints of business; the theory of Rock as an expression of the “youth” revolution and the fact of It as a highly profitable manifestation of the rapidly increasing purchasing power of teen-agers: and the urge for quality which is constantly sabotaged by the shabbiness of commercial promotions. It was apparent from David Bowie’s first record to be released here, “Space Oddity,” that he was (is) an intelligent artist, who writes and produces good material. He was also (until he ceased live appearances earlier this year) an astute “glam rock” entertainer who was not above (or beneath?) performing simulated sex acts on stage with his lead guitarist, Mick Ronson. David Bowie did not become a fully fledged Super Star until “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars,” and the attendant publicity which stressed not his talent but his sexual ambivalence. (And that’s a subject about which Bowie himself has become more ambivalent as time’s worn on and the novelty has worn off.) So it is that David Bowie perfectly exemplifies the gap between quality and hype and the fact that quality always seems, in the end, to get lost in the shuffle. His capacity to lead people is directly diminished by the indepedence he sacrifices to the manipulative mechanics used to sell his “product.” In other words, for every bit of leading that. Bowie

does there is some little wild-eyed publicist doing the same amount of misleading—and “the new age of decadence” is nothing more than the latest in a long line of promotional slogans like “the Mersey beat” which are only intended to get people to buy things. Rob Smyth, writing in the "Nation Review,” talks about the Rock business’s need to create heroes and the way Rock magazines and reviewers fall into the trap of emphasising the

stars simply because they are stars and reviewing on the basis of reputation rather than merit. As a result a lot of very, good material by unknown artists gets over-looked while lesser works from bigger names gets all the attention. He cites David Ackles as one victim of this process and others could be added like Tom Rush, Jesse Winchester, The Bonzo Dog Band, Roy Harper, and Bo Hansen. The first thing that occurs when you hear “Pinups” ■is the thought, that if someone else (someone lesser known) had recorded it then it probably would never have been released. “Pinups” is very much a celebrity record in as much as only somebody with the secure and established following of Bowie could afford to indulge their nostalgia and whim to the extent that he has done with his collection of his personal “favourites from the ’64-’67 period of London.” There are no David Bowie songs on “Pineups”—instead there are two from those, early savages, The Pretty Things, two also from the Yardbirds and The Who, and songs from Pink Floyd, Them, the Easybeats, the Mojos, the Merseys, and the Kinks. Bowie shows good taste —they were good songs then, they are good songs now and, for those who were truly young then, they carry with them a whole host of associations of times past. It’s all a bit like a musical diary. David Bowie does something of a Tiny Tim here: Tiny Tim claims that he becomes the artists whose songs he sings and certainly David Bowie and his band succeed in sounding like the original groups. Their interpretations are more imitation than evocation because they reproduce the old sound much more than they interpret it. Which is the way it should be, 1 suppose, for an act of homage. But it still is frightening to realise that some of these songs were recorded only six years ago. When the desperation of nostalgia gets that "close to the present you start to get very nervous and apprehensive.

There is little point, outlining the songs, most of them you will have already heard on the wireless. “Pinups” is a curious album in that it is an album that many could have made, although only someone like Bowie could have had released. It is certainly well produced and well performed—and it’s nice to hear those “golden oldies” again.

But it isn’t a David Bowie album. This time there is none of his particular talent for lyrics and compositions—which is disappointing because, all the hype aside, he has done and can do a lot better than the best collection of cover versions for 1973. — Mike Lombard.

Steely Dan: Countdown to Ecstasv. Probe (EMI) PROLP 8049. About 20 new albums are released in New Zealand every .week. Many of these are bad — but they sell. Some are good; and they sell too — but there are others which are good but just sit in the bins and gather dust. Steely Dan is one such group.

“Countdown to Ecstasy” is Steely Dan’s second album. Their first, “Can’t Buy a Thrill,” was, and is, a masterpiece — but it is

still largely undiscovered. If the same fate befalls this album there is something drastically wrong with the way New Zealand’s ear; specialists are doing their jobs. This album opens with a bluesy number called "Bodhisattva” that contains some of the fastest guitar work since Hendrix. Jeff “Skunk” Baxter is able to combine taste with speed—the result is an exciting chain reaction of ordered sound that the mind is able' to cope with on an intellect tual, as well as on an emotional, basis. There is something in the collective musicianship of Steely Dan that allows them to get away with things that would be the. ruin of lesser mortals. Most rock groups, fori instance. cannot man-; age, successfully, songs that carry a regular chorus. , Steely Dan can. They make the chorus on “The Boston Rag” into a new musical, experience. An added bonus! is that it is one of those: choruses that, once heard,! is never forgotten.—M.S. Barry White. I’ve Got So Much to Give. Twentieth Century Records. L 34936. Who said there was a shortage of plastic? Barry; White had a single out some time ago which sounded like a lad’s answer to Sylvia’s “Pillow Talk,” a record which had her whis-i pering various friendly! things and which came to| a shattering climax, Barry’s song, “I’m Gonna Love You, Just a Little Bit More Baby,” was plagued with the same sort of slick, synthetic sensuality — the kind you find in after-shave, commercials where ladies become demented and growl and bite gentlemen on the ankle. So Barry White has; brought out this album to! capitalise on the success of his single. Well, after shave sells too, doesn’t it? Side two of this album has three tracks of him! doing some of his throaty! whisperings all over the i place and it’s pretty dreadful. Side one features two. over - orchestrated songs which collapse under their own weight, and it’s no!' better. With only those five; tracks the album might better have been called “I’ve Got So Little to Give.” Conserve plastic.—M.L. John Williams. “The Height Below” (Cube Records 2326 028). A very good record from the British guitarist who is! best known for his classical and flamenco performances. “The Height Below” offers specially composed works from John Dankworth. Dudley Moore (who also performs on the record), George Martin (the former Beatles’ producer), John Williams himself, and Brian Gascoigne, who wrote the Emperor Nero “suite” on side one. There is a wealth of superb guitar playing here, as well as contributions from more exotic instruments like the Koto and the Tabla. Excellent playing and sensitive arrangements are" combined to produce superb modern music, individual.! independent and exciting, drawing on various sources \ but always existing entirely! in its own right. A worthwhile album for anyone who enjoys complex, vibrant instrumental performances. Difficult to describe, its harder to categorise. You’ve just got to hear it. —M.L