Gil Scott Heron (1977) We almost Lost Detroit - LOST70sGEMS

 Supposedly based on an incident where a local power station almost blew up half of Detroit, it is also named after a 1975 book on the same subject, it features ghostly echoed synthesizers mimicking the lead vocal with a cool, subtle spookiness that embodied most of Scott-Heron's work. His literary voice, crisply detailing some prose, very visual and tangible and earnest to the core. His melancholy always just slipping underneath the surface of every line, while he is backed by TONTO's Expanding Head Band; a duo whose multi analogue synthesizer setup was a go to for many soul artists of the mid 70s era providing unique textures for each note like an orchestra over the usual synth combo and effects patches. A stunning plea from the wrecks of a once mighty juggernaut of a city. The cold urban landscape captures in the meandering pools of Synthesizer pads and markedly captures the desolate car graveyards of Detroit, where the American Dream died. Laying on a bed of fading blues licks and muted keyboard flutters, the tone of desperation is similar to Marvin Gaye's What's Going On but is accentuated by Herons citified growl; so gentle yet unspeakably ominous and drenched in foreboding, like he is almost resigned to his fate. It reminds me of the quieter, comedown spaced out numbers of Sly Stone but arguably with more socio potency.

The Dramatics (1971) In the Rain - LOST70sGEMS

 Starting with some corny cracks of thunder from an effects library and some overused wind wailing, we get an incredible jolt as a heavily tremolo guitar rings out while a synth zaps a laser bolt like note. The enchanting flute, soothing strings and earthy vocals all combine with the guitar basic tracks to create a very evocative, humid atmosphere; it isn't helped by the corny rain sounds that keep returning. However nothing can take the shine off Wah Wah Watson's guitar work, the rattlesnake torqueage, the clangy, ramshackle chords echoing out in lopsided fashion. The dragged tremble chords act like sploshing puddles as they ripple with every disturbance of its surface while the darting Synthesizer ping; like an beaming ray gun discharge that fires off deep into the dark recesses like a shot to the heart, a zing to a string or even a massive rain drop slipping off a ledge into endless oblivion. 

T Rex (1971) Get It On - LOST70sGEMS ESSAY

 The track begins mid groove, a rhythm guitar sort of lurches around almost sounding like it's two guitars. Then the chirpy 'Morse code' sounding lead guitar of Marc Bolan enters, at first squeaking away in the background before interjecting with that now iconic guitar riff. Staunchly robust, like Link Wray's Rumble, The Kingsmen' Louie Louie or The Kinks' You Really Got Me; all you need is a short, sharp, simple little doodle that grinds itself into your brain. 

 The sax tail offs at the end of each guitar riff help provide a neat turnaround phrase, so we can swing right back into the start of the riff again. The partially hidden elements of the song, from the bawling saxes to the zinging piano glissandos to the droning backing vocals that creep in from time to time, they all somehow blend seamlessly into the fabrics of the track, which is made up of trembling vocals, leaden guitar, trebly bass and biscuit box drums.

This is a car song in some ways, the way the verses crank up for the ear drum busting chorus or the way the guitar, bass and sax all rev up during the bumping chorus before the ecstatic cry of "Get It On" 

What's remarkable is this manages to be both an immortal ode to 50s rock and roll whilst smacking of that soulful/ hipcocking strut that frequently dominated the early 70s rock scene.  

One of the great things about this track is how Marc Bolan draws you in with his slithering, entrancing delivery; he never actually overdoes it, there is no lisping or overly camp pronunciations, unlike in other parts of his discography. The repetitive verses with their backstreet metaphors work a charm, you can almost picture Bolan with his jet black, leather jacket swank, coming on to a woman during this song. The leering, suggestive lead vocal, his idling Les Paul guitar, just ticking over; the surging rhythm guitar is the anchor, a calm before the storm before the riotous chorus cracks into life. Suddenly the harmonies wail, the saxes gargle and the guitar screeches fly right off the neck. They are then all bottled back up again, the restless energy is brought back into submission as we slip back into that chug, always ready to explode back into life again.

 The underlying tension of the verses are palpable from the subtle scoring of vocal hums; gradually building in size as band members join in on the act, one by one, the volume of the hums increasing as they are steadily pushed further forward in the mix. It sounds like a choir of throat singers or a human didgeridoo at full blast before dropping off again,  occasionally returning in waves before dissipating out again; lurking around, waiting to seap back in, ultimately creating an unsettling sense of unease.

The juxtaposition of the agitated, pared down verses into the white hot, yelping chorus with its busy sound and those inimitable harmonies jolting you with shrieking orders to 'get it on', and 'bang a gong' while you're at it, in that order; is it a about drug use, sex or just oriental percussion? 

Few cover bands exist that can even attempt T Rex, for many reasons, from the fact Bolan hit such a perfect balance of gritty and yet smooth to the stodgy, glam rock bop to the fact those harmonies were so impossibly shrill and high.
 For example, the harmony vocal does something unusual; usually the pitch of a vocal line naturally lowers as the vocal drops off, but here the vocal line increases in pitch almost inflecting upwards with each word. Speaking Get It On, the words would all stay flat on the same tone with no deviation, but on the track, Flo and Eddie start high on the first word as they shriek 'Get' then continue to go up, ending even higher on 'on'. It's so hard to replicate as your natural instincts are to lower the pitch as the vocal goes out.

 The bump and grind rhythm guitar and cooing snarl of Bolan are poised like a coiled snake ready to pounce as they do in the big hook of the song. 

Proceeding at a staggered pace, the guitar riff continues to pip up at the end of every couplet during the verse and each call during the rave up chorus; kinda like an imitation of what a horn part would play in those fills. The rock steady drum beat keeps the whole thing from being let loose and or go off the rails  for a few more bars of foreplay, then turning into a heavy oil drum pounding when the chorus begins to rave up, before releasing the tension once again on cue as we slide back into that endless groove.

 It's early 70s hard rock in its sensational dynamics and cool swagger, shifting from the gruff masculine verses, which are almost mumbled, to the 'clear as daylight' penetration of those big choral harmonies. The ghostly backing vocals in the chorus are strained and euphoric for the orgasmic chorus, the tempo is driven up, the drum beat ramps up and the song almost climaxes before swiftly shifting down gears for the sensual verses. In between all these elements are Bolan's thrusting posteurs; tossing off axe and vocal licks aplenty and don't forget contributing the initial guitar riff and possessing that almighty, quivering voice that seems to be dragged along by the locked in grooves like a phone on vibrator mode.
Bolan bursts out the words, 'Take me!' in an exasperated and breathless tone of voice before unleashing a little guitar part that temporarily fools us into thinking we're gonna get a solo. Instead we continue on this exhausting blues rock carousel; it feels like workout of rock tune, like running on the treadmill with someone constantly putting your pace settings up every four bars.

The monotonous groove, the circular riffs that seem almost synchronised or set off by a timer, as well as the repeated, cheap corner store couplets add to this idea of rock as a western form of mantra; lulling you in whilst exciting all your physical senses. Songs like this are almost transcendental, compared to any club track being played or overplayed in any nightclub, they never get old or too familiar, you're just stuck listening to it on repeat for it's excited highs; trapped on it's catchy conveyor belt. Finally one last point, this song is the epitome of Rock and Roll, in how it rolls along in the teasingly flirtatious verses and then literally rocks you in the chorus.

Pink Floyd (1971) Echoes - LOST70sGEMS

 Pink Floyd's Echoes was the song most people remember when they think of their 1971 album Meddle; this was before the Dark Side world domination era of the band when they were in transition from their original success as thee definitive band of London's Psychedelic scene in the late 60s. Echoes was the key track that pointed towards the Dark Side Prog Rock era, the era that would define them and house their best work, Echoes would be immortalised by the band's storming rendition of it in the centre of an old ruined coliseum in Pompeii, Italy (in a spellbinding concert film called...you guessed it.. Live in Pompeii.)

 Famously starting with what sounds like the 'ping' of a Sonar signal, it was actually created by an electric piano note being plonked and sent through a Hammond Leslie Amp and an echo unit for that cold, spacey pulse. It's a desolate sound with an icy effect that transcended any gimmickry, and would influence later Floyd experiments like the knotty overlapping cash register rattle of Money and random Helicopter rotor blade interludes of Another Brick in the Wall Part 1.  

 A couple of liquid guitars soon join the Sonar, as both instruments begin to ripple, undulate and modulate with the tide of ambient sound textures, slowly filling in the wide open, sub-aquatic space. The guitar work begins to take a turn towards the flamenco, then big drums crash in for a Phil Collins' In the Air Tonight style of drum rolls for an explosive transition. The thin but winsome Gilmour-Wright harmonies then descend upon us in floaty lines that are gently hung over the hypnotic brew of ambient organ. Their flat, droning voices recite the words like a mantra with seemingly possessed quality to it; this style of close harmony singin, popularised by Simon and Garfunkel. perfectly blends Gilmour's distinctive cutting warble with Wright's primitive whimper.

 It's a successful technique for conveying the  type of wide eyed Hippy poetry of the lyrics, the vocals first describe the setting starting with the line 'Overhead the albatross Hangs ..' their vocals hover over everything much like the Albatross, rising high into the clouds just like their dainty falsettos. 

 The first verse is largely pastoral imagery ala Yes' Topographical Oceans, but the second verse brings the whole rhythm backing to a standstill, as Gilmourwright commentate 'Strangers passing in the street, By chance, two separate glances meet, And I am you and what I see is me'. It should be romantic but it feels strangely much closer to themes of detachment and social isolation similar to Wish You Were Here with it's fiery handshake cover or Dark Side of the Moon's Us and Them. In the last verse, the fire that had been smothered and buried deep inside them has now broken free, no longer as 'green as submarine', and now no one calls them 'to move on' and 'no one forces down' their eyes; an original description of how young people must come of age and see things for themselves; no longer having their eyes cupped by their elders, resisting attempts to contain or restrain by the establishment. 

 A guitar passage then acts as a chorus, like the tolling of a bell as Gilmour's trebly hundred-tonne guitar intones and divebombs down into a spiral, before another flamenco influenced jazz solo with many guitars playing at different pitches, tape speeds and reverb settings howl. The fantastic drums and organ combo of Mason and Wright anchor the next section with a funky backbeat where percussive organ chords are broken up by hyper aggressive fills from Gilmour; wringing every inch of sonic bite and fury in his vibrato. No wonder it's called Echoes, from the natural resonance of Mason's drums to the multi-layers of guitars, we get a variety of wet and dry textures; the soaring notes cry out before we segue into the creepy Musique Concrete part. 

 The long ghostly 'wind' effect erases all vestiges of the band's playing till we're transported to a dark exterior night scene; the wall of sound easily could be anything from dogs growling to crows crowing or just a very heavy gale, but it is actually Waters' bass with a slide ring and more tape effects to create a white noise. But this part of the suite get's even chillier with the entrance of a bizarre high pitched whine that, though emitted from Gilmour's guitar, has far more in common with some feral creature. The background sound collage begins to subtly oscillate as if the night is enveloping us or we're Dorothy, plummeting helplessly down the eye of the tornado, while a ring modulated organ adds more Sonar like qualities. Then some terrifying screams from that guitar jerk you to a very alert and panic state, the guitar shrieks out in these bursts of blood curdling mania, it reminds me of a cockerel or peacock in it's whooping manner, but the discordant screech is probably closer to that of a Theremin. 

The iconic Sonar 'ping' and Wright's endless organ washes slowly creep in, followed by the chug of Gilmour's hand muted guitar and Mason's precise cymbal work, acrobatically filling the sonic space back up. A Celtic sounding arpeggio by Gilmour adds a hopeful 'dawn breaking over the horizon' wonder to the section as the band builds to yet another verse. The verses are so drearily sung in a tinny, droll manner that it comes across almost comatose and the heavy English accents add a zombified cult like nature as was common with Pink Floyd's disembodied voice. 

 The song pretty much bookends itself with one last flourish; a reverse echo sucking everything into its vortex, the ebb and flow of those ghoulish walls of sound towards the end, whether humans or something else, creates such an unsettling effect, it stands timelessly with anything one could produce today. Is it the sound of a crowd sighing, or is it the sound of the sirens of the French metro system ..whatever it is it caps off a magnificent composition and a successful experiment of what Prog could be beyond pretentious classical indulgences and would influence Van Der Graaf Generator, Robert Fripp and even that song Piltdown Man by Mike Oldfield.

Smokey Robinson (1978) Quiet Storm Live - LOST70sGEMS

Defined by, famous session guitarist, Wah Wah Watson's Incredible Guitar fills, I was inspired to write my first live post on this 1978 performance of the soul standard, Quiet Storm; a live post, as in a review of a live rendition as opposed to writing this live because who would want to follow that?

The familiar jaunty walking bass line comes bounding in to the whoops and hollers of an excited audience while Wah Wah Watson's heavily reverbed slide guitar chirps away like a bird; Congas and Smokey's heavenly tenor add a dusky humid feel to the verses.  A drawling blues figure lurks in the background, it's sacharine, lilting and thin tone reminds me of the one that opens Band on the Run by Wings, while dry, mellifluous flute swirls in; meanwhile Smokey's voice carries it's own inbuilt cascading filter; self produced of course😉.  While the splintering guitar chinks of Watson are add a modern sheen as the lyrics of 'inner circuits' sound more dated, but those skewering slides down the neck are still so fresh. At the 3 minute mark a very metallic steel drum sounding organ punches in and flutters like the flute before Sonny Burke is announced on the keyboards by Smokey to the audience and starts soloing in an undefinable tone, playing a heavily delayed and echoey wrinkly clavinet that chimes in slinky tripled reverbs. Then Wah Wah Watson tosses out a few waka waka 'cracks' like their frisbies as a jazz flute soloes out of control like an exotic bird, whistling away before the performance sought've just ends there amongst the clapping for the excellent flute solo. 

Queen (1975) Millionaires' Waltz - LOST70sGEMS

 

This track, Millionaire's Waltz, is a perfect union of Freddie Mercury's undulating Vaudeville music theatre glam rock, their controlled expulsions of their vocal harmonies and Brian May' sweet, glowing guitar fills. May's Red Special has a gorgeously juicy yet remarkably clear tone; it's homemade charm means it practically clicks and clacks under the tough legato play of May and his robust digits; the manual labour he uses to wring out every lick on his cheap rig is commendable considering he still uses the same guitar forty years on and counting! You virtually hear him crank the guitar neck with each bend, wielding away his lightsabre tone in and out of Mercury's feather light piano, velvety vocals and the cooing harmonies to create a tough soft rock ballast that defines terms like soft rock or power balladry.

The Millionaire's Waltz is built around a familiar Queen technique of using hard rock instrumentation to play older styles of music from 'court of the king' pan flute music to olde English maypole folk. The orchestrated melodies re-inacted with such a bracing, tactile and haptic electric guitar is one of their best traits displaying their unique take on Prog rock's established love of classical music forms. This starts with sturdy piano chords, noodle-ey bass machinations and Freddie's big wide voice with fairy voiced Roger Taylor's little harmonies. Deacon' bass notes gurgle and bubble in little up and down patterns before, while Freddie and the dreamers voices caress and soar all at once. But it's Brian May's additions that make it; from the walking guitar line at 2 minutes 30 where he turns the notch up into a powered horror film motif to his twiddling guitar waltz at the three minute mark complete with triangle and gong pinging and piano continuing to plink away; the mix of his overdriven sound and more traditional acoustic percussion backing him up his superb mix of old and new, natural and synthetic as the guitar's range stay central while the piano and drums splash out all over with plenty of air to ring out.

I particularly love how May clenches, clangs the tough piano strings of his franken-guitar, every tweak unfurled in clear sunburst sustains; it's so electronic, analogue in it's texture full of diodes, currants and signals created by wiring and metal over the strings and ivory of the other instruments. His treacly guitar parts sway, ballet and twirl around in a tandem with Mercury's stomping piano and Taylor's air horn vocals; this 'dance' mixing Elizabethan grace and whimsy to art rock arrangement of plonking piano, twinkling triangles, hysterical falsetto harmonies blasting off and Brain May's guitar zapping away. The highlight has got to be the weeping guitar figure at 3.50 which would return at the end of Bohemian Rhapsody too, the glowing sustain practically dripping before revving back up into more fuzzed-out rhythm guitar and a sea of fluffy, sped up guitars gang up on us for one last run through of Freddie's melody. 

Paul Kantner and Jefferson Starship(1970) Sunrise- LOST70sGEMS

 The first use of the Jefferson Starship moniker was in 1970 for a side project from the very much active Jefferson Airplane; credited to Paul Kantner and the Jefferson Starship, the project was a concept album named Blows Against the Empire that would even go onto win a Hugo award for Sci-Fi. The album like David Crosby's first solo album were recorded at the same time and in the same studio and would feature a large ensemble of artists cross pollinated from different SF bands workin on this and the Crosby project with no real connection to the Jefferson Starship's official debut four years later; only  Paul Kantner, Grace Slick and David Freiberg would remain to for the Starship's debut.

Mau Mau (Amerikon) is a Cream SWABLR sounding rave blues with Dylanesque accents and town cryer vocals and an archaic centuries old acapella intro; while it owes a debt to the noise rock of bands like Velvet Underground, The Seeds, The Sonics etc, by this point bands like Zeppelin and the Stooges had already moved passed that beat group style of garage rock to heavier fare.  The Jerry Garcia banjo tune The Baby Tree is the same Pete Seeger working class folk style of song, stickin out like a sore thumb on this album due to it's stripped sensibility. The next track Let's Go Together could easily be the most generic Hippy tune of all as they wail defiantly about going to a starship 'right now' as they 'wave goodbye to America', sought've fits with the Post Trump era sentiments; possibly a track that could be in use in a couple weeks for the next election. 

A Child is Coming is Sunshine Pop a year after it went out of fashion, but still a nice detraction if a little lacking in creativity as the vocals continue to prattle on with this empty rhetoric; none of the bite of later social conscious hip hop for example, just more of a mix of fantasy with some clumsy attempt at real world relevance. The call and response between Kantner and Slick in the middle is at first dramatic but soon goes on too long and repetitive and you start to question is it really 'gettin better' as they repeatedly claim? The ramping up tension of the rootsy strumming, piano scale leads to a great interjection of searing, whining lead guitar that feedbacks in and out of your left channel.  However, it just keeps going till the end dominating the six-minute tune with the hopeful lyrics falling flat, much in the same way that the progression never really takes off. After a while the track just sought've stayed put never built to a climax in the way they  would do so expertly on Epic 38 on Grace's solo album (see prior post). 

 Sunrise is an FX extravaganza as a droning electric guitar is fed back itself in big harmonic walls of dissonance, while Slick cleverly uses a Middle Eastern style of throat singing where she pushes her voice to it's limits, using the slightest twitches of her vocal cords to create skipping stone series of natural vibrato and breaks that only instruments and the most talented Berber singers usually achieve. Layers of overdriven guitar ring out in thunderous clouds of feedback; bassist Jack Cassady of the Airplane uses a stringed bow to drawl, scissor and dither over the bridge of his bass guitar (ala Jimmy Page), this allows a rumbling, synthetic orchestra whilst remaining a shape shifting monster of fuzzed out notes; abruptly able to change pitch and cutoff girth.

 Hijack starts off sounding almost exactly like Friends by Led Zeppelin with it's jumpy acoustic hammer on eastern riff and tabla;  the vocals, however,  remind me of the Byrds and as always feature Grace  sticking out from the background as if kept to the back of the studio due to her piercing tone always poking through. In Hijack, Kantner claims the Starship will start building in 1980 and be ready by 1990; more like built in 74 and ready by 84 for their big chart-topping successes with the shortened Mickey Thomas line-up.  The change of tempo and a new acoustic riff at the 3-minute 20 mark is gloriously preceded by a little count off keeping a neat live performance feel that is unless there are overdubs and fixes, which I'm sure there are as these are polished performances and their live shows never matched their studio craft.  Two minutes later and a Gypsy lyric and a funky rock strum enter and we get treated to some modal soloing before a laser beam of crackly electric distortion segues and seethes in a raging wah wah; Star Wars laser gun sound effects also ping off. The mundane piano and mandolin like acoustic slowly fade the tune out reminding me for some reason of the Cosmic Celtic bluegrass amalgamation of The Eagles' Journey of the Sorcerer; which like my earlier Star Wars reference was still several years off by this point.

The 37 second snippet Home packs a lot in; as tinny, canned cymbals clang before an oscillating signal enters and the tape is sped up to astronomical high pitch as if it's being rewound. Then follows, more blotches of 'cigarette burn' laser beams, a whirring wall of noise; which I believe is just a series of takes of distorted electric guitar with a tubular bell hammered sparsely for ambience, then this recording is sped, slowed and panned off into atmospheric static white noise that undulates like the ocean....Anyhoo, monk chanting finish the dirge Home and an acoustic guitar strums along joyfully.. a cutting pedal steel guitar peers in and out in crystal teardrop notes and a chorus finally returns as we realise, we are well into the next track; Have You Seen the Stars Tonite? 

A bicycle bell rings in childish jingles, and a strange yet smooth coagulating distortion wriggles every now n' then, potentially produced by an electric reverbed guitar amp or something else..like a synth. XM is even more wild, starting with World War 2 era explosions and turbine sounds before some wobbling signals and radiator like buzz takeover before being washed away by ear caressing and very modern sounding phased 'whooshes'.

Industrial sounds of hydraulics, wind, ghostly theremin, white noise and many clipped sound crashes are weaved as if by a studio console, mixing desk or a synthesizer. Next song, Starship, drifts in with a happy piano progression, a nice little bass line, acoustic strum and group vocals espousing their hippi credentials, but it does contain a great line about 'an acid fever' that swamps the mind and gets in the way of the human experience, preventing you from connecting with others; it's a nice albeit brief bit of introspection on a very big concept album full of 'big picture' statements and counter cultural messages.  But of course, it's Jerry Garcia with his lightning rod guitar solo that really stands out, he was often the cameo appearance who stole the limelight; as we all remember his immortal pedal steel on Crosby Stills and Nash' Teach Your Children.