Silly Post For Memorial Day---Minutemen honored The Stooges, Boris Gives Nick Drake a Shoutout!

I was watching some Three Stooges shorts today. One of the bits had the boys standing as silly dictators (this of course was during WWII). Of course, by the end of the film they suffered a cruel punishment, as you can see by the head shot above. It was then that it struck me.

Three-way tie for awesome

How did I not put two and two together sooner?
What a great homage, from a great band that had a bass player that later became a member of Iggy Pop's Stooges versions 2.0 and 3.0. And anyone who has read the superlative punk anecdotal archive Just Kill Me, by Legs McNeil knows that Ron Asheton of The Stooges used to come and visit Larry Fine of the Comedy Stooges when he was in a nursing home in the latter years of his life. The circle of life. Hakuna Matata. Or did I mean Akuna No Uta? Everybody loves a good clever tribute. At least if that everybody is me.

Check out this one:

Nick Drake: Legendary folk singer/songwriter.

And super noisy Japanese Power Trio Boris.



Pretty clever, huh?

Space, Country & Western? Barre Phillips' Three Day Moon & What is Jazz anyway?

Moon is in the Gutter

I'm very happy that I scored Barre Phillips' Three Day Moon on Cd, a startlingly strange esoteric psychedelic jazz album which came out on the ECM label in 1979. I used to have the album on vinyl and it was one of those unique records to me. It's pretty difficult to find on Cd--I'm not certain why ECM has not reissued this one. Three Day Moon is a fairly amazing melding of different styles. You have the Mingusy Barre Phillips, the psychedelic textures of Terje Rypdal, the tabla rhythms of Trilok Gurtu and eerie syntesizer of Dieter Feichtner. There is some unique quality to this music that actually seems to put me in a hypnotic trance. It wasn't something I was trying to have happen, but I no on a few occasions that I was startled into consciousness by the sound of a needle scraping at the end of one side of the album. But my eyes were open! Listening to this album never feels to give my brain a good cleaning, but not in a soporific way. I feel relaxed, but more energized and focused.

I first discovered ECM records in a strange place, my local Caldor department store, now defunct, but a place where I used to find interesting cut-outs, like Teardrop Explodes or Killing Joke Cd's. I started seeing these albums with unusual artwork on the cover being sold there. Because I recognized some of the names on the albums like Keith Jarrett, I knew that it was jazz. There was a certain consistency in style on the records unlike other labels that I was familiar with. They were so cheap too. I could kick myself now. At one point the store had a huge bin of ECM vinyl that they were selling for 99 cents each!! In retrospect, I should have bought a pile of them.

Three Day Moon came into my possession years later because of a visit to a record store, upon the recommendation of  the proprietor. That's one of the nice things about going into a real record store--those wonderful surprises you can encounter, courtesy of people who are genuinely informed about music.  He played the record for me and I was won over pretty quickly.



Though the songs are definitely not all the same, there is a mesmerizing quality that runs throughout the album. Though credit must be given to the innovative and virtuoistic guitar playing of Rypdal, the star and gang leader here is Phillips. Sometimes his bass lines lead the charge, other the times they buzz in the background forming a type of private conversation. Sometimes the bass is a crazy rangeing heartbeat. Overall the soundscapes are startling. Ostensibly, this is considered a jazz album. I don't think this is such an important distinction to be made--I just like this album a lot. But I think back to the reaction of the Jazz World when Ornette Coleman burst onto the scene. (Phillips actually performed with Coleman on the beautiful Naked Lunch soundtrack).

The reaction was not positive. The strangeness of the new style was jarring. Today when people are attempting to institutionalize jazz as an America's home grown of Classical music, it creates a difficult dichotomy. I guess it is like loose and strict constructivists of the American Constitution. Like, the Constitution does not mention cell phones, so how can government regulate them? I guess in terms of jazz, I am a loose constructivist. Give credit where credit is due, to all the great jazz legends and tradition, but let the genre breathe. Don't be such a tight ass as to what Jazz is and isn't.

Back at the old Knitting Factory in NYC they used to have a What is Jazz? festival, which they held at the same time as the old institution, The New York Jazz Festival. And no doubt not accidentally. Well, What is Jazz? quickly grew and grew, as it was a melting pot of diversity, and a cross pollination of musical genres. Eventually it threatened to usurp the other festival in stature. First and foremost, jazz is improvisatory music, and is a cross pollination of musical styles, and in some ways is musically political satire. People who create great jazz imbue it with part of themselves, sometimes in way that can't quite be replicated. And if you try to pin it down, you kill the life out of it, like a beautiful butterfly collection.

It's a Heartbeat, It's a Love Beat

I'm listening to Three Day Moon as I tap the keyboard and I'm enjoying it as much as I did when I first heard this unique disc. S.C. & W is without doubt the best country space raga I've ever heard. All 9 1/2 minutes of it. There is a zen quality here where even disparate noise that might be accidental seems like it is there for a reason. There is a strange ambience at work, perhaps because of the 1000 mile journey that Phillips, Gurtu and Feichtner took from Salzburg to Oslo to make this album. In a converted ice cream wagon!! For some reason these disparate artists came together and created a coherent masterpiece, even though at times it seems they are all playing different things in a schizophrenic way.



Three Day Moon is a very amazing one of a kind record, the kind of record that has inspired me to seek out interesting music outside my comfort zone.
I can't say that this philosophy has given me much regret.

Sclerotic Narcotic!! Continuum Turns 200!! Viva Brisvegas!!! The Saints--Wild About You!!!

Yes, my friends, this venerable blog has reached another milestone. 200 posts!!

Thank you friends. Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you...

Post 100 took us to the streets of Memphis and Big Star's mighty Third/Sister Lovers, and now we head across several ponds to the Antipodean other end of the musical world, Brisbane, Australia, to scale the top of the punk rock mountain for enlightenment from one of the very greatest bands ever, The Saints.

If you don't know what I am talking about, call a close friend and have them come over and smack you in the head.

The Saints are simply the best; as good as any punk band out there. If you love great rock and roll, this music needs to be a part of your musical world. The snottiest, hard rockingest, youthfully energetic, guitar thrashing, in your face punk rock there is. The easiest description is to say they are like an Australian Ramones, but that is far a too easy and not too apt statement. For one thing, before there were Ramones, before Sex Pistols and the only band that mattered, there was Edmund Kuepper, Chris Bailey, Ivor Hay, and
Kym Bradshaw, in the garage, doing what they wound up doing so well for three tremendous albums. Their music reminds me as much of super frenetic versions of 50's and 60's music. Their musical legacy has now influenced several generations of Australian bands.

Another great thing is their iconoclasm, their lack of tolerance for foolishness and clicquery. The same angry jaundiced worldview expressed in their songs was in turn directed at the insular and intolerance of punk rock. New club, different badges. A band unappreciated in their homeland until they made a splash in London. Getting criticized by punks in England for not fitting the mold, growing their hair long. It all seems pretty silly today, more popular delusions and the madness of crowds. A musical cultural movement that was under attack turning around and eating itself. I say listen to the music and let that be the final testament, if we need testaments at all. The Saints got shot by both sides, but sold out to noone. In the salad days of Green Day, Blink 182, etc. it seems kind of trite. But when I was in a band at College we couldn't get booked at the school pub because the student said "I hate the band and everything they stand for", whatever the hell that meant. So much for liberal arts.

Wild About You is a fantastic collection of all the studio recordings of the early Saints, when Ed Kuepper was still on guitar, released on Raven Records about 10 years ago. It contains their first three albums, (I'm Stranded, Eternally Yours, Prehistoric Sounds), cuts off of singles and eps, and a few unreleased numbers.
Outstanding from beginning to end. I know that many people draw a line in the sand between the second and third albums. I won't argue that on Prehistoric Sounds they took a different direction, slower, more like a traditional rock album, with great seamless use of a horn section. But only the most doctrinaire music fan can be dismissive of this album's merits. As I see it Prehistoric Sounds is still pretty terrific, but without the visceral thrill of the prior two albums. The same intelligence and attitude is there in an undiminished amount. It's a similar argument to Stiff Little Fingers Now Then... album. Very very good, but the fans don't go crazy when they hear "Big City Night" like they do "Suspect Device". It's difficult not to make such comparisons.

Of course, I haven't had the luxury of hearing the original Saints perform. I was hopeful that I would get a chance to see these guys. Despite all the enmity I had heard existed between Ed Kuepper and Chris Bailey they got together for a few festivals in Australia. But as far as I know, the reunion was a temporary one, and there are no plans to take on a World Tour. I don't think they played the state ever so it wouldn't really be that nostalgic. I sort of hope that if they came to the US that they wouldn't be playing the Mercury Lounge or some such small venue. Of course in a selfish way, to see such an amazing band in a venue like Maxwell's in Hoboken which hold less than 200 people would be a pleasure I would feel very unguilty about. I guess I'm saying that I would hope that these guys would get the popular credit they deserve, beyond the critical accolades they've received.

The collection begins with a flat-out howling punk rock classic, the one that show up on compilations. I'm Stranded flings a defiant gauntlet to the world, taking on the tribulations of conservative life in Australia and defiantly standing up to the view of Australia being a stereotypical backwater. The Saints have a huge chip on their shoulders, and their attitude punctures all the popular prejudices they had to contend with. They were from someplace outside the rest of world and they were outside the society they lived in. Pure rock n roll rebellion.



The insane thing is, this entire collection is crammed full of classic songs, both originals and amazing interpretations of other people's tunes. Ed Kuepper's buzzsaw guitar work still knocks me out, its something that I could never get tired of. And Chris Bailey is the perfect snotty punky frontman. Listen and be amazed at Demolition Girl and Wild About You! One of my favorites is the blistering Nights in Venice--I still can't believe that its nearly 6 minutes of bone rattling glory. It's over before I realize it. This Perfect Day is another A-list tune, a perfect frenetic buzz kill of a song. And of course there is the classic punk screed against crass commercialism,Know Your Product,delivered pre-Sex Pistols.

Don't talk to me about what you done
Ain't nothing has changed it all goes on
And they'll keep laughing till the end

I've seen them drive around in cars
All look the same get drunk in bars
And don't talk back we got no social rights

Oh perfect day
What more to say?
Don't need no one to tell me what I don't already know

We got no high times always flat
If you go out you don't come back
It's all so funny I can't laugh

Oh perfect day
What more to say?
Don't need no one to tell me what I don't already know

The Saints also do some unusual covers, which they execute in typically brilliant fashion. They do a revved up version of Connie Francis' Lipstick On Your Collar!! And it's both hilarious and pure rock n roll. Elvis's Kissin' Cousins is also roughly sent through the Bailey/Kuepper meatgrinder with equally entertaining results. When you hear these songs, you begin to get an idea of where their musical roots originate. Of course, if I didn't mention the absolutely over-the-top version of Ike and Tina Turner's River Deep Mountain High I ought to be horsewhipped. This is definitely one my favorite covers ever, ranking with Husker Du's apocalyptic take on Eight Miles High. On River Deep, The Saints show themselves to be masters of tempo and dynamics. Bailey howls like a transplanted southern preacher here and the excitement slowly builds to pure destruction. In their covers, they both mock and show reverance for the past. They even do a bit of social commentating and satire in their mock dance-craze song Do The Robot.



In between the noise they also manage to deliver some memorable ballads like the AllTheYoungDude-ish Messin' With The Kid and the darkly grandiose Memories Are Made of This. The band critiques the "no worries" Australian attitude in Orstralia, where you can sit back, bake in the sun, watch telly and leave your brain at home. Bailey pointedly compares day to day life as "living in a chain gang" in Memories. In Messin' With The Kid, "all your kid dreams have melted under the sun". A favorite is the ode to a dissolving relationship This Time, where a couple go through the motions and stick together for no compelling reason. And its a very well constructed classic pop song with a great horn arrangement.

I'm talking to you but you're in a trance...
You're talking to me but I ain't got a chance
Cause you'd rather sit with your radio

You're lying in the sun and you read magazines
You think that you know everything on the scene
But you're hanging around, only fooling yourself.

I listen to the tunes from Prehistoric Sounds and I can't help but think of The Commitments, with the soulful singing and the horn lines taking the place of the stinging guitar, at least on some of the songs. They do a nice uptempo version of Otis Redding's Security and also Aretha Franklin's Save Me. Bailey's Take This Heart of Mind is not out of place in this company, as is Everything's Fine.  But there are a variety of songs here, including the cowpunk of Swing for The Crime, which Prehistoric Sounds leads with. The ballad All Times Through Paradise sounds like a dark proto-Bad Seeds number. Crazy Googenheimer Blues is a strange blend of Motown bounce and rockabilly.



The original band held together for three records, except for the replacement of bassist Bradshaw with Algy Ward after (I'm) Stranded. But Kuepper and Bailey had creative differences over the band musical style. Bailey continued The Saints and had success on MTV in the 80's with stellar albums like A Little Madness To Be Free, All Fool's Day, and Prodigal Son. Some of his recent albums are a bit of a return to his punk roots. Kuepper formed the jazz punk group Laughing Clowns, the mockup hard rocking group The Aint's, and has had a distinguished solo career with numerous great albums. Wild About You ends with an interesting unreleased song Looking For The Sun, which does not sound like any song in their canon. It's sort of a jangle guitar Byrds meets Eric Burdon garage ballad. You wonder if this is where they were headed before the split. I think these guys were probably capable of anything, really.

But Wild About You is a perfect anthology of one the top punk bands ever, on the level of The Clash, Ramones, Buzzcocks, Pistols, etc. If they were from America or England they would be lionized. For the completist, there is the box set All Times Through Paradise, which includes a bunch of demos and great live tracks, which was recently reissued. But if you like what you hear you will probably want to hear the later Saints, Chris Bailey's solo work. The Laughing Clowns are pretty much a unique band that I think someday will get their due. I don't think there is anything out there quite like it, and Kuepper deserves high praise. His solo works like Electrical Storm and Honey Steel's Gold are also worthwhile. Or check out the compilation Butterfly Net. The Aint's are also worth a listen, especially the hard rocking live album SLSQ. Or there are the jillion recordings on Kuepper's Prince Melon Label.



So enough blah, blah, from me. Do yourself a favor and get acquainted with this exemplary band. You need this, believe me. I wish I knew about these guys when the music originally came out, but I was busy listening to Boston and "Green Grass and High Tides". You can avoid this fate. So wish CT a Happy 200th. Maybe we'll get in another 200 before I finally succumb to carpal tunnel. Or tinnitis.

A CT Classic--The Jaguar Hunter by Lucius Shepard--

Welcome to the jungle...

Recently I reread one of my favorite short story anthologies, The Jaguar Hunter by Lucius Shepard. I have to say that when I slowly and carefully pored my way once again through the 14 stories anthologized here, I noticed so much more about his superb and fantastic writing ability. He's probably not one of those guys you will find on the shelves of your local mall bookstore. But he is definitely worth seeking out.

Shepard has abilities on a variety of levels. First and foremost he is an idea guy, with a lot of interesting concepts. He explores his way down a lot of intellectual and philosophical alleys and often takes popular conceits and platitudes to exaggerated and shocking conclusions. In that way, he reminds me a bit like a Kurt Vonnegut but from a younger generation.

He has a wonderful descriptive ability, describing the backdrop of his stories with a lush thoroughness. Though many of his tales are set in Central America (where he spent time in his younger days), his stories take place in many locales that would be deemed exotic at least by the standards of the average American reader. And the descriptions are plausible, in all likelihood a potent combination of life experience and research. And though the stories are grounded in this realism, it is a tribute to this artistic abilities that he manages to take that realism, and mold it, and send it off onto surreal and otherworldly plane. In that respect he reminds me a bit of the great J.G.Ballard. In his stories it often seems that when things start heading south, when your existence is in a state of mortal peril, you realize that people haven't really changed that much over the millenia. Magic and ancient lore mix with world-weary jaded modernity, superstition and magic help to fill in the unintelligible spots, to make life bearable in a changing lonely uncertain and cruel polluted world.

In truth Shepard writes so fluently and with so much kinetic creativity I both awed and more than a little jealous. A few of the stories included in this collection are flat out masterpieces. One is the The Man Who Painted The Dragon Griaule, a captivating Medieval tale that has to be read to believed, a tour de force of descriptive power and a compelling look at the heights and depths of human nature. Another great one is the surreal semi futuristic novella Radiant Green Star, a coming of age and revenge tale set in a Vietnamese traveling circus. It was the last story in the collection and it was probably why I felt so strongly that something needed to be said in a post. Just when the book was nearly perfect I read the finale and I had to make my opinions public.

I could go on and on about these, stories, but I don't want to give it all away. One of my favorites here is Night of White Bhairab an East-West Supernatural showdown set in Nepal. When you read How The Wind Spoke at Madaket you will discover a chilling reason why Hurricanes have names, and a wonderfully written take on the consequences of unrestrained destruction of our environment. If like me, you have spent more than a few summers in Cape Cod, Mass, you will get a Lovecraftian tingle as you turn the pages. Black Coral is tremendous metaphor, comparing human communities to the intertwined community of a coral reef and having the narration in the form of a modern fairy tale. Just audacious!!

I'd like to end this post with a rather lengthy quote from the end of A Spanish Lesson, which I think sums up Lucius Shepard better than I am inadequately doing. A final observation is his passion and fierce unwillingness to tolerate ignorance. Despite the world weariness, there is hope and inspiration in his writing, the thing that helps people get up in the morning to do what they need to do. And He engages you and forces you to think. And his word ring as true today as they did then.

When the tragedies of others become for us diversions, and stories with which to enthrall our friends, interesting bits of data to toss out at cocktail parties, a means of presenting a pose of political concern , or whatever...when this happens we commit the gravest of sins, condemn ourselves to ignominy, and consign the world to a dangerous course. We begin to justify our casual overview of pain and suffering by portraying ourselves as do-gooders incapacitated by the inexorable forces of poverty, famine, and war. "What can I do?" we say. "I'm only one person, and these things are beyond my control. I care about, but there are no solutions."

Yet no matter how accurate this assessment, most of us are relying on it to be true, using it to mask our indulgence, our deep-seated lack of concern, our pathological self-involvement. In adopting this attitude we delimit the possibilities for action by letting events progress to a point at which, indeed, action becomes impossible, at which we can righteously say that nothing can be done. And so we are born, we breed, we are happy, we are sad, we deal with consequential problems of our own, we have cancer, or a car crash, and in the end our problems prove insignificant. Some will tell you that to feel guilt or remorse over the vast inaction of our society is utter foolishness; life, they insist, is patently unfair, and all anyone can do is to look out for his own interest. Perhaps they are right; perhaps we are so mired in our self-conceptions that we can change nothing. Perhaps this is the way of the world. But, for the sake of my soul and because I no longer wish to hide my sin behind a guise of mortal incapacity, I tell you it is not.

So do yourself a favor and get to know the writings of Lucius Shepard. I think that you will not be disappointed. If you are a fan of Harlan Ellison, Jonathan Lethem, or the short stories of T.C. Boyle, you can't go wrong here, or with his many other worthy books.

We Have Met The Alien and They are Punks!!! Finland's Hundred Million Martians--Martian Arts

I bought this little album a while back by Hundred Million Martians, a punk pop group from Turku, Finland.

I forgot how enjoyable this disc was. Choppy guitar, huge hooks and harmonies, a lot of adrenaline here on Martian Arts, their 1997 debut full length album on Hiljaiset Levyt. Kind of like Green Day/Ramones meets The Jam, with some Buzzcocks and Undertones thrown in. If I had to do a blind guess, I would probably say that this was a punk group from California.

No profound statements on this album, just great music to rock to from a rocking country. It isn't accidental that the World Capital of Air Guitar is Oulu, Finland in the land of my ancestors (at least some of them).(August 24-27, 2011) And that is a part of the world that takes its Air Guitar seriously, before they started hooking up fake guitars to TVs.

I was in Stockholm in an ice cold November a while back, with my friend, the real world's most interesting man. He talked me into seeing an old stomping boogie band The Status Quo that was playing at some arena near the water. We were up in the nosebleed seats and it was simply amazing. There were these two drunken knuckleheads in our general jumping around like maniacs playing air guitar, jumping in the air, tongues out, falling on the floor, throwing Townshend-like windmills all over the place. They were having the time of their lives playing along with the band--taking pictures of each other with the band in the distant background. They even had us take pictures of them rocking out. It was ridiculous and great at the same time. They weren't bothering anyone, these guys were just enjoying the moment. Of course with all the alcohol they might not remember any of it. At least they have the photos as evidence.

Albums like Martian Arts never fail to amaze me. You would think someone would put this music out beyond Finland. It's not a question of language barrier, as the songs are sung in English. The songs are as good as any in the genre and they aren't particularly political or crude. The themes are girls, boredom, being a tortured artist, universal themes that would appeal to the broad base of music fans. If you don't enjoy this music, check yourself into a nursing home now, or maybe a funeral home.

Jyrki Makela: Vocals
Seppo Lehdonkivi: Guitars
Tuomas Pelttari: Guitars and Vocals
Pasi Hjerppe: Bass and Vocals
Jarkko Lehti: Drums

Mikko Kangasjarvi: Accordian cameo on Track 13.

Misery for Misery's Sake is the first track, which gives you a strong indication of the band's style and also how good their songs are. After the first tune it's a continuous bombardment of great pop punk. The next two tunes, A Perfect Pop Song and Difference are equally excellent. One of the highlights here is the quick pop burst of Brighter Days, 2.5 minutes that deserves a place of honor in the Punk-Pop Hall of Fame.

As befitting Martians, there are the marginally space-themed Buzz Aldrin and Beam Me Up. But stylistically they sound 100% terrestrial. Other decent songs are I Wanna Hate You and Dreams To Happen. And these guys are still out there rocking. Their 4th album Marseille came out in 2008 on the Plastic Passion label. So if you are into tuneful punk rock I would recommend giving these guys a listen. You won't regret it.

Happy Easter from Chicago!! In Case You Didn't Feel Like Showing Up for Ministry

I thought that today it would be appropriate to give a brief scream out to one of the most unrelenting live records out there, Alain Jourgensen and Ministry's In Case You Didn't Feel Like Showing Up.

Just like a car crash

Ostensibly a six song ep, it is nonetheless 40 vitriolic minutes, and a lot angrier than most live albums. There isn't a lot more to say about this except that it captures the band during their 1989-90 tour. This is early in their career, not that long after they metamorphosized from a synth dance group to the sonic behemoths that we know and love. There was quite a scene in Chicago then, with great bands like Big Black, The Effigies, Naked Raygun, The Didjits (from Champaign), to name a few.

Being an old fart, and seeing so many bands follow in the wake of these trailblazers, I find that I have gotten too inured to this and the music seems samey. It must be fun to be up on stage strutting around with a bullhorn, but as a spectator the overwhelming angst makes me feel as though I'm the band's bartender, listening to all their problems, commiserating with them in their white hot rage. And I'm not as angry as I used to be, just saving it up for special occasions.

But I still give these guys credit--they really put it out there on this one. Alain is in raspy wicked form. And the band purees you down to hamburger with their vicious musical assault. And Jello Biafra is a special guest.

That's what friends are for. Another round of Trivial Pursuit.

"Alien" Jourgensen: Vocs, guitar

Paul Barker: Bass, Keys

William Rieflin: Drums

Chris Connelly: Keys, vocs

Mike Scaccia: Guitar

Martin Atkins: Drums

Terry Roberts: Guitar

Nivek Ogre: Keys, Guitar, vocs

William Tucker: Guitar

Joe Kelly: Background Vocals

Jello Biafra: Flag Pledge

The main reason I put this post together is because of the final song on the ep, the absolutely crushing 9 and a half minutes of Stigmata. It just reminds me of Spring and rebirth. I recall listening to this version of the song and it seemed like the noise kept ratcheting higher throughout the song, and of course the vocals are a giant furious middle finger to organized society.

So what better theme music to orchestrate your Easter Egg hunt to?

Trenchtown Comes to Bluff City: Toots Hibbert in Memphis!!!

Love and Happiness

I learned about Toots and the Maytals originally because of the Clash's stunning take on Pressure Drop, which can be found on "Black Market Clash", which contains a ton of great Clash material that never made an album. Pressure Drop was so amazing that I had to hear the original. The Clash knew what they were doing--not only were they performing a tremendous song, they had to know that they were also promoting some deserving artists. And Toots and the Maytals, they could and did make John Denver's Country Roads transcendent, changing West Virginia to West Jamaica.

And of course, it took about a minute for me to understand that Toots Hibbert is one of the great singers, and not just within the world of Reggae. So when I heard that he took a recording junket to Memphis with Sly & Robbie, I knew I had to get my hands on the record. Sometimes these collaborative sessions fall flat.
Music is quickly hashed together, egos clash. In the end, the finished product speaks for itself. And in the case of Toots In Memphis, things work out to great effect. It doesn't hurt having Jim Dickinson producing this little opus at Ardent Studios. We all know that the King called Memphis his home town, but when visiting Royalty comes from the Caribbean, it's time to roll out the red carpet and celebrate!

You have Toots performing with some serious Memphis session guys, with a Reggae rhythm session, covering a series of Soul classics. Though the first place to go is the classic Toots and the Maytals recordings, this is very very good stuff, extremely enjoyable. Everything works seamlessly. Of course Toots Hibbert is in fine voice here, because that's what he does, and that why he is so often compared to soul legends like Otis Redding. And the horns are a joy. If you can't appreciate the horn section here you should listen some more.

Here are the people behind the voice...
Sly Dunbar: Drums
Robbie Shakespeare: Bass
Mikey Chung: Guitar and Electric Piano
Teenie Hodges: Guitar
Eddie Hinton: Guitar
Larry McDonald: Percussion
Jim Dickinson: Hammond M100 and Roland D50
Andrew Love: Alto and Tenor Sax Solos
Joe Mulherin: Trumpet
Jim Spake: Saxophone
Gary Topper: Baritone Saxophone
William Brown: Background Vocals
Zabu: Background Vocals
Debra Hall: Background Vocals

Whew! Well sometimes it really does take a village...

The music is a bit of a hybrid, though overall it is more to the soul side than traditional reggae--with the beats it almost has a Neville Brothers edge to it. The bottom line is the sort of album that is guaranteed to put you in a happy mood. The album starts out with Otis Redding's I've Got Dreams To Remember, and then goes into a superb take on Knock On Wood (Eddie Floyd). One of my favorite cuts here.



He does a wonderful emotional take on James Carr's ballad Love Attack, another memorable vocal performance. Toots has an exuberant turn with The Spinner's It's A Shame. But my favorite moment is his high octane rendition of Redding's Hard To Handle. He sounds like he's really enjoying himself here, maybe almost as much as the listener. Another stellar cut here is Precious, Precious by Jackie Moore--I just loves the way he bends the notes like the master singer he is.



Of course I can't omit his Freedom Train, another great one of James Carr. An anthem for anyone who believes in human rights and justice. What more can I say? You've got to love this record.

Toots and the Maytals are still active today, and are on tour as I type, performing down in the Antipodes right now, and then its off to the US. If you can do it, make the effort and go see a legendary singer do his thing while you still can. If you love the punk rock, you should figure out quickly why so many British punk
bands loved Reggae.