David Berkeley: Do you remember the first time you encountered Elton John’s music?
Nathan Angelo: Yes. I remember loving his music at an early age. My mother was a big Elton John fan. I remember being a child and watching my mom respond to one of Elton’s songs as it played over the radio or in a movie. She knew all of the words and would get that feeling that only a true fan gets from a hearing a song, voice and style that has become so familiar that it is almost like an extended family member.
DB: Any thoughts on Elton’s influence on you and your musical development?
NA: Elton John was the first artist to convince me that a singer-songwriter could carve his own way from the piano and not necessarily the guitar. My uncle was also a piano player, and he would play most of Elton’s songs.
DB: Can you try to express what makes his sound distinct or why it hits you?
NA: Well for starters, Elton’s songs always have that distinct piano flare to them. His voice is pointed in an unassuming kind of way, coming off as both natural and unpretentious. For me, the paramount crux of Elton’s music has always been his soaring melodies. It doesn’t matter if he’s singing about a tiny dancer, rocket man, a well-known gun or the circle of life, he always finds a way to hook the listener with his dynamic melodies. The other element that always made sense to me in Elton’s music was the gospel influence, particularly in his chord changes and piano playing. I grew up in the church, so gospel music was a big influence on my music. I’ve always wondered whom the key influences were that Elton was drawing from, particularly since he was from England around the time of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. His music is very different from theirs.
DB: Ever cover any of his tunes?
NA: I’ve covered Rocket Man, Saturday Night’s Alright, and Your Song. I’ve always loved Rocket Man and Your Song. A few tours back I wanted to add an upbeat piano song into my set. I couldn’t think of a better tune than Saturday Night’s Alright. It’s a rocker!
DB: Have you ever dressed like Elton in your concerts?
NA: No! Although, I have been known to add a little bit of flair every now and again (eg. snake skin shoes, grey leather suit jacket). I’m sure Elton would snicker at me even considering those things “flair”.
DB: As to tumbleweed…tell me what moves you about this record?
NA: I heard Tumbleweed Connection a few years back and the album resonated with me immediately. I loved the Western and Southern imagery, but I also loved the musicianship on this record. It just sounds like a group of 5 or 6 talented musicians sitting in a room playing their asses off. I love the bass work and the acoustic guitar work as well. Not to mention the incredible piano playing skills.
DB: Any thoughts on why he went for the sound he did? Or what drew him to the western theme?
NA: I’m not sure why he went for it. I know that he was a fan of Leon Russell and the American troubadour, but I’m not quite sure what inspired him and Taupin to take the lyrical direction. Nevertheless, it’s a fun journey. It truly is a complete album and thought.
DB: Is this your first time curating a Collective show?
NA: Yes. I’ve been a part of a few other Collective shows: Van Morrison’s Tupelo Honey, The Beatles’ Sgt Pepper and Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On. But I’ve never curated a show for the Collective.
DB: Tell me a bit about your approach? What preparation and work have youhad to do to get ready?
NA: Well for starters, I’ve spent a number of hours living with the record. I’ve also spent time wood-shedding on the record. I’ve got to be totally honest, covering Elton John can at times be a tall order. He is quite the piano player. I will give it my best effort, knowing that his ability as a piano player is good bit beyond mine. I’ve read a few reviews of the record, none of which really satisfied me (including a semi-favorable Rolling Stone review from the early 70’s).
DB: What other musicians have you called on and why them?
NA: I’ve called upon Tim Brantley for his roots approach to piano rock. I thought he would have a nice spin on a few of the tunes. Also the Shadowboxers. Matt carries the weight on the piano, and the rest of the band will give a nice touch with their approach with harmony. My drummer Paul Barrie will be there. He is a seasoned player and an avid Elton John fan and finds a home in the roots and Brit-rock traditions (eg Ringo, Nigel). He will add a great rhythmic color to the album. Robbie is a seasoned Collective veteran who will hold down the bass. I called upon roots guitarist, Bret Hartley, whose natural approach is similar to the guitar playing on Tumbleweed. It’s gonna be a great band.
DB: I remember often being surprised by what my favorite moments of
Collective shows ended up being. A sleeper song often ended up being my favorite. If you had to pick which song the audience was going tocome away digging the most, which would it be?
NA: It’s tough to say. Since I haven’t heard the renditions, I can’t say which song will find the “magical” performance. “Burn Down the Mission” is a gonna be a fun one with it’s change in time signature and Beatle-esque chord changes. I’ve always personally resonated with “My Father’s Gun”. I’m looking forward to hearing the rendition of “Where to Now St. Peter.” It’s a funky song while also maintaining the soaring, dark Brit-rock melodies.
DB: And finally, what’s next after this for Nathan Angelo?
NA: Well, I just wrapped up 20+ shows in support of the new record, so I’m coming down from the craziness for the holidays. I plan to do some more touring in the spring, balancing between supporting a few more established acts and headlining regional shows. I’m very proud of my latest effort. The challenge is often getting the music heard, particularly in our over-saturated industry. I hope to find new avenues in which new music listeners (particularly, new to my music) can wrap their ears around the record.
Alright. I’ll come clean. I’ve never been an Elton John fan. In fact, it was my mom who turned me on to the guy. Before my sweet mother introduced me to Tumbleweed Connection, I’d only invested loosely in building up my EJ catalog. It was all a tad sensational for my blood. I believe I made an obligatory greatest hits purchase at a used bookstore at some point. Then, came TC. TC marked not only the beginning of my interest in Elton but more the start of my musical journey into the backbeat-heavy, grit-spitting, southern sophistication, and general mid-tempo genius of Leon Russel’s track “Tightwire,” all the tunes off of “Music From Big Pink,” and Dr. John’s “In the Right Place.”
There’s nothing distinctly “Elton John” about TC. In fact, there weren’t any hit singles. And, I think that lack of pretense, along with the obvious twang and groove, is what I latched onto. In projecting what they imagined an old world American west to look like, two distinguished Brits (EJ and lyricist Bernie Taupin) actually landed fantastically in it. It’s the genre equivalent of dressing for the job you want and then getting it, not something most of us underachievers can swing. The album comes across as straight from the heart.
Campfire-friendly descriptors don’t necessarily come to mind when one marinates on an EJ playlist. Whether intentional or not, submitting to the country and western template and mythology gave Elton and Bernie room to lean on the team’s previously under-used storytelling bone making for an earnestly funky and timeless artifact.
Micah Dalton, ATL-Collective Co-founder
I first encountered Led Zeppelin IV as an 8-year-old boy sleeping over my friend Doug Roeser’s house. His college-aged brother John had a poster of the album cover on the ceiling of his room, and Doug and I used to sleep beneath it. The iconic image is of course of that hermit bent over, carrying the bundle of sticks on his back. That image alone would have filled my head with visions and wanderings. Where was he going? What did he need those sticks for? Where had he been and what in this world had bent him over so?
But there was more to light the candle in my young mind. See Doug’s mother used to also get changed for bed in a bathroom across the hall from where we slept, and she would leave the door open. So I would watch her through half-closed eyes, feigning sleep, and my head and heart were on fire.
Somehow those early fantasies and the mystery of that image on the ceiling have merged in my mind and come to embody the sound that I would ultimately discover when I first heard the actual music of Led Zeppelin IV. I suppose Doug’s mother was my lady climbing the “Stairway to Heaven.”
But even without her, the music itself captured my young unformed mind perfectly. For youth is all about freedom and range. And by range, I mean wild ecstasy followed immediately by a crash. It’s Dyonysian. It’s all frantic potential. And everything is the best or worst thing ever.
That’s what that music was to me then, and I think it still is. It’s exotic. It’s unbridled and untamed. It’s a 12-string guitar not just your everyday 6-string. And of course it’s a ton of muscular electric guitars. But there’s horns. There’s flutes. There’s distortion. But there’s also beauty. The guitar in “Going to California,” for example, is just stunning. And then there’s Robert Plant. Holy. My voice, when I found it, couldn’t be further from his tone and style. But what could be a better influence on somehow who would one day want to sing than hearing that kind of emotional and physical freedom in a voice?
I don’t think I’ve ever cited Led Zeppelin as an influence. But when I think back on this time of discovery, I’m so grateful that I found the band and this album when I did. For subliminally, if not actively, I think it taught me that music had the power to make a listener dream, had the power to turn a world from black and white into color, had the power to free the mind and unleash the spirit.
I remain,
David Berkeley
I don’t need to tell you anything about Johnny Cash. That’s probably the greatest testament to any artist’s legacy — that their life is elevated to the stuff of myth. The problem with the mythological “Man In Black,” is that we forget all the ways he was just like us, the very reasons he was so beloved. Unlike the airbrushed pop stars of today, Cash connected with the broken down, bruised up, addicted, imprisoned, impoverished, marginalized, and misunderstood.
But make no mistake, Johnny Cash was a huge star, 0ne of the biggest stars there ever was, with over 100 top 40 country hits and 48 singles on the Billboard Hot 100 Pop (yes pop!) charts –about the same number as the Rolling Stones and the Beach Boys. Yet, turn on country radio today and it’s clear that the industry is focused on a very different kind of cash. It’s easy to sigh and lament that times have changed so much since young J.R. showed up at Sun Records in Memphis, Tennessee, but when Johnny Cash returned to public prominence in 2002 with his heart wrenching take on the Nine Inch Nails song “Hurt,” he didn’t do it by pandering to the fashions of the time. He did what he’s always done. He showed us the power of uncompromising, honest, authentic art.
As a songwriter and artist, I don’t look to Johnny Cash as simply a grand figure in the history of American music. To me, he is the quintessential example of how to live and create with integrity. When we take the stage at Eddie’s Attic on May 8th to recreate the iconic record Live At Folsom Prison, we won’t only be celebrating that now timeless, distinctive style that is a genre all it’s own. We’ll be paying tribute to man who continues to teach us about the gritty dignity of staying genuine in a world of sugar-coated copycats. We hope to see you on Wednesday. This is gonna be a good one!
-Eliot Bronson
Dearly Beloved,
There is no one like Prince. No one. I think you could make a list of things Prince has done that no one else in the world has ever done or ever could do. You can’t find him on YouTube (he has a team that takes down any footage of him). He’s not on Twitter or Facebook. He doesn’t even have a website. For a while, his name was a symbol.
He was recently on “The View” sporting an incredible tiny Afro, but still he brought his friends Rosario Dawson and Van Jones to answer the questions for him. He maybe said five sentences during the entire interview.
And did you see him on the Grammy’s on Sunday night? Dude had a chrome cane! Questlove tells an amazing story of going to Prince’s Grammy after-party with Eddie Murphy at a roller skating rink where Prince showed up with clear skates in a Pulp Fiction-esque briefcase. The skates not only lit up when he skated but also spewed a trail of sparks!
The point here is that Prince is way cooler everyone else. And he always has been. He’s unique in every sense. His music, his acting, his lyrics, his guitar playing, his clothes, his producing, his dancing: pure unaffected unique virtuosity. And when Purple Rain was released in June of 1984, his uniqueness (among other things) was on display in its highest form.
Purple Rain is undisputedly one of the greatest albums of all time. It shows up on all the lists and all the countdowns. The two main singles “When Doves Cry” and “Let’s Go Crazy” are some of the best pop songs ever written. And the title track, “Purple Rain,” has become one of the great anthems of modern music history. The accompanying movie (which if you haven’t seen, I absolutely urge you to go watch. It will blow your mind. As an aside, I still remember my dad sitting me down when I was in 8th grade to watch the movie. Cliche aside, it changed my life. Thanks Dad.) earned Prince an Oscar and exposed the world to the performer that Prince was and still is. The tour that followed the release of Purple Rain is one of the most famed and legendary tours of all time. Amy Ray of the Indigo Girls once told me that she saw Prince on the Purple Rain Tour and was so overwhelmed by the spectacle and the energy and Prince’s true mastery that she cried (joyously) the entire performance. Now that’s a concert.
But putting all of the legend, mystique and reception of Purple Rain aside, it has always been one of my favorite albums. It was the first album I ever purchased on vinyl. Yes, I’m proud of that fact. It has inspired me as a guitar player, a singer, and a songwriter. The title track was one of the first songs I ever learned to play on guitar, and it was one of the first songs that The Shadowboxers covered. We have probably played that song 200 times in the short time we’ve been a band.
The guitar playing at the end of “Let’s Go Crazy” continues to remain a benchmark for me as a guitarist. “Darlin Nikki” was so provocative that it is often cited as the song that created the parental advisory sticker – the 8th grade version of me was intrigued. His high-pitched guttural scream at the end of “The Beautiful Ones” and “Baby I’m A Star” is otherworldly and straight up soul shaking (you know D’Angelo’s scream at the end of “Untitled”? – that’s a Prince steal). At just under three minutes, “I Would Die 4U” seems to capture the entire essence and sonic landscape of the 1980’s.
With just nine songs, Purple Rain is a perfect concise pop album (also a rock musical soundtrack, of course) that combines elements of R&B, Dance, Rock, Funk, Psychedelia, New Wave and Jazz. The entire album is masterful in every way. Many of the songs were recorded live at a concert at the First Avenue Club in August of 1983. Live!! Listen again and think about that. A few years ago, a video of the actual performance of “Purple Rain” that is heard on the album was leaked on YouTube for about 30 hours before it was removed. That recording from the album was actually played live. Incredible. Only Prince.
So go listen to the album, watch the movie, and bask in the unbelievable cool that is Prince and Purple Rain. And then come out on Valentines Day at the Sound Table (8pm sharp) to celebrate it with us. Graciously joining us to channel the purple one will be Ben Deignan, Chantae Cann, Daniel Dewitt and our featured act Rahbi. Get your ears ready, pencil mustaches trimmed, purple fluff fluffed, and high heels on (you too, guys), because this ATL Collective is going to be a special one.
Adam Hoffman
The Shadowboxers
Feb 11 2013
Collective,
In those early misty mornings when we were dreaming up what would one day become the ATL Collective, thinking of what albums we wanted to present, what artists we wanted to feature, what drink hooks we wanted to tie in, we often heard a soft drumming on the tin roof, on the window panes, on the door posts. Micah thought it was branches or possibly birds. David assumed it was the neighborhood kids tossing pebbles, or perhaps coins. Both were wrong. It was actually the subliminal drumming of Purple Rain. Yes, it’s been there from the start, though it took a couple years to properly materialize. And how could it not have been there from the start? Prince’s 1984 release is nothing short of a masterpiece, and we are thrilled to announce that it is our next featured album. We will bring this beauty to you at the Sound Table – Space2 on Cupid’s day, February 14th at the romantic hour of 9pm. Our featured drink: why, it will be a sprightly blend of Old Overholt Rye, Sombra Mezcal, Cardamaro, lemon, grapefruit and sugar, of course. A whisper to the bar keep of these five words: “I Would Rye 4 U” are all you will need.
MailChimp is our fine presenter this evening, a relationship we couldn’t be happier about. The brilliant Shadowboxers will be our curators, that is, they will be our hosts – hand selecting the acts who will deliver the songs, painstakingly considering the arrangements and every bit of the spectacle that will leave you feeling, well, like you’re standing in a purple rain.
If you weren’t alive to see it happen in the mid-eighties, this album was and still is a pretty big deal. It won 2 Grammies and an Oscar. It’s gone platinum over 13 times. It spent 24 consecutive weeks as atop the Billboard charts. It’s sold over 20 million copies. Entertainment Weekly calls it the best album of all time. “When Doves Cry,” “Let’s Go Crazy,” “I Would Die 4 U,” “Purple Rain.” Enough?
This was the first record Prince recorded with (or at least credited) his and backing unit the Revolution. It was also the only record cover where he wore that purple velvet leisure suit we’ve all had nightmares (and maybe fantasies) about.
What we’re trying to say is that this is an epic record that we’ll be presenting on an epic night with an epic partner and an epic curator. So if you’ve got a special someone, well now you have a special evening basically laid out for you. If you don’t yet have a special someone, you’ve got a couple weeks to find that person. But that’s all you have to worry about. We’ve got the entertainment under control.
Okay. By now, you know what we do. But let’s review quickly: We hand-select the finest albums, match the songs with the best of local acts who collectively cover the record head to toe. We pair all that with a thematic food or beverage and, in short, put on a show that is always memorable. It’s a top shelf operation, our tastes are refined, our standards are sky high, our hearts are in the right place. But we’ve never yet been able to say that this month’s album is the best-selling album of all time. Yes, you read that right, assuming you didn’t stutter over the phrase: “best-selling album of all time,” This month’s album has sold more than any other. And on Wednesday the 31st of October, known by pagans as Halloween, you’ll see why.
Michael Jackson’s epic Thriller. Oh yes. The name itself sends a little tingle up and down the spine. Released in 1982 won 8 Grammies and had 7 singles that hit top 10. Most consider it to be the best album of the 80s, and well, if it’s the best album of the 80s…
Oddly, the first single released was “The Girl is Mine,” which didn’t hit as hard as most expected. But that was followed up with a little song called “Billie Jean,” and more than a handful of kids dug that one. After that, they released a tune some of you may know called “Beat it,” which actually features Eddie Van Halen on guitar. “Thriller” was the third single, and once you toss in “Wanna be Startin’ Something,” it’s hard to deny that Thriller can hold its own against nearly any record ever released.
Of course it’s hard to hear the song “Thriller,” without picturing the masterpiece video (or rather short film) that accompanied it. Its hilarious yet oh-so-cool group choreography has been mimicked all over the globe, from Bollywood to that proposal video that went viral recently. Demand was so high for that video when it was first released that MTV was playing it twice an hour. Clocking in at 14 minutes, you can do the math, it basically means that “Thriller” was virtually all they aired for a while.
We can’t promise Jackson’s dance moves. But we can promise an unforgettable evening as Ben Deignan, Sye Spence, Jeremy Ezell of the Well Reds and featured act Shook Foil conjure up the magic, the mystery, the mayhem that made Thriller the King of Pop’s crown jewel.
-David Berkeley
Check out David’s new Sky Blog. And pick up a copy of the new album and book at the David Berkeley Store*
Michael Jackson: Thriller
No album, movie, or book should ever have to live up to the expectations attached to the label “biggest selling of all time.” Luckily for Michael Jackson’s Thriller, that moment has passed and it’s just a matter of time before the same is true for James Cameron’s Titanic (the Bible, however, will have to deal with its popularity on its own terms). It seems that moving over 40 million units of an album (that also won a then-record number of Grammies) has had a stifling effect on Jackson’s career. It’s difficult to separate Jackson’s 1983 coronation as the new “King” (or his inevitable descent from that throne) from the music on Thriller. On the other hand, it’s possible these things give a sense of character to what was, like most Quincy Jones productions, just another Epic pop monolith. In fact, perhaps a comparison to one of Q’s other early-’80s productions is key to grasping the extent to which Jacko’s star persona impacts a Thriller spin.
Take Donna Summer’s self-titled 1982 album, which is comprised of almost the very same ingredients as Thriller. Both are built on a foundation of smooth, L.A. dance-R&B, an uncharacteristic dalliance with the rock idiom (“Protection” for Summer, “Beat It” for Jackson), and a side-one-closing expansive (no, make that cinematic) blockbuster. And of course, both albums are filled with what can be best described as flawless, melodic pop. The lush disco paradise of Jackson’s “Baby Be Mine” and “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)” both hint that the “death to disco” proclamations were sure to be temporary. The growling stomp-lite of “Thriller” and “Billie Jean,” both marked by Q’s fuzzy synthesized basslines, weaned millions of unsuspecting children onto low-end funk even as Prince was experimenting with bass-deficient funk. The buttery harmonies of “Human Nature” (probably the best musical composition on the album and surely one of the only A/C ballads of its era worth remembering) were so powerful that no less a legend than Miles Davis recorded a studio jazz cover of the song. Summer’s eponymous album is about Donna as much as it is about carrots and lettuce and the mystery of love. But Thriller does more than just announce Michael’s arrival as a pop superstar (he was already there)—it’s about his arrival in the same way his sister’s Control was about the arrival of Janet, period.
With three quick rimshots, “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin'” is like the court fanfare. What is a seemingly silly fight song is actually a complicated tapestry of colliding hooks and pop references. Jackson starts with his own collection of non-sequiters (“You’re a vegetable,” “My baby’s slowly dying”) and puts them in the context of other borrowed quips. (“Too high to get over, too low to get under” is almost an exact copy of Funkadelic’s opening salvo for “One Nation Under a Groove,” and anyone who loved Manu Dibango’s underground disco hit “Soul Makossa” knows where the holy-rolling “Mama-say mama-sah ma-ma-coo-sah” came from.) By combining the hooks of earlier black pop benchmarks with his own, it’s as if Jackson was suggesting that everything in pop history was setting the stage for his arrival. One wonders if Jackson’s statement in a recent TV Guide interview that he is no longer satisfied with the way “Wanna Be” turned out is less a comment on the quality of the song than it is about the unsatisfactory implications it has for a man whose career afterglow seems scarcely worth a “coo-sah.” Think Norma Desmond watching her own youthful glory in isolation. Thriller is still big, and Jackson’s getting small only serves to highlight its pop (musical and cultural) achievements.
BY ERIC HENDERSON ON OCTOBER 18, 2003
Zombies’ Odessey and Oracle
So where to start? The Zombies were in a bit of a bad place in 1967. Odessey and Oracle was the result of frustration. Toiling for years with very little commercial success to speak of and their current recording contract long past expiration, primary songwriters Rod Argent and Chris White sought a new beginning. Set with a new CBS contract and relatively minuscule 1,000-pound budget, as well as access to Abbey Road Studios, the Zombies embarked into an environment without label pressure, meaning no specific deadline for release and more notable, no producer. The Zombies had no illusions coming into the recording sessions; they knew this was the end or just the beginning. One thing was certain, though: Odessey and Oracle would be completely subject to the whim of the artists.
With this in mind, Argent and White went out to create a cohesive album. Up until Odessey and Oracle, the Zombies had released a pair of LPs. These, for the most part, were collections of singles rather than actual albums. Through those releases the Zombies did manage to invent a distinctive sound, a sound which would ultimately be expanded upon under Odessey and Oracle. The cause of the distinctive sound was the fact that the Zombies were classically trained musicians, an image which perhaps did worse than good. Often, the Zombies came off as studious squares compared to more rebellious acts. Either way, the Zombies’ musical background led to intricate songs that perhaps were beyond the scope of the popular rock audience. Spatters of sudden tempo and key changes, Argent’s raging organ work and baroque composition filled the band’s singles. All of these songs are really pretty easily accessible but also have a distinct sound when compared to the work of peers. The Zombies also brought interesting musical influences such as jazz undertones and blue-eyed soul, further separating them from R&B-based bands of the time. So while the Zombies are considered part of the then-burgeoning psychedelic era, aside from the vocal harmonies, arguably they had more in common with the church organist and chorale rather than the typical psychedelic band.
Perhaps purposely distancing themselves from equals, Odessey and Oracle finds the Zombies in an interesting place. Lyrically, the band had begun to mature from routine “about a girl” topics. While a fair share of songs on Odessey could be considered romantic songs, the direction the lyrics came from was much more varied. The album opener, “Care of Cell 44” is the perfect example. The Argent-penned song, originally titled “Prison Song” and later, “Care of Cell 69,” finds a guy dreaming about his girl’s release from prison, “hoping she’s ok’ and waiting to “get to know her for a second time.” Not only does the story have a thematic twist, the man waiting for the woman to be released from jail, but the song’s explosive chorus and Colin Blunstone’s lead vocals are utterly amazing on this track, bringing an emphatic charge that fits the song’s distant mellotron, percussive tack piano and White’s steady bass. Energetically, the album does a 360 with “A Rose for Emily,” another Argent song, this one much more plaintive and with a completely new lyrical theme. Based on a William Faulkner short story, “A Rose for Emily” is incredible musically minimalist tale of a spinster who lives and dies alone. The song simply features Argent’s piano backing and shared vocals between Blunstone and Argent, yet evokes such emotional depth.
“Maybe After He’s Gone” returns to romance, this time Blunstone mourns, “maybe… she’ll come back and love me again.” More exquisitely crafted vocal harmonies exude from the track, although the highlight of this track is drummer Hugh Grundy’s work. Grundy strikes quick with reverberating strikes during the verses, stops, pulls back in during the chorus, lather, rinse, repeat. Grundy’s drumming here is evocative of much of the musical aesthetic the Zombies prided themselves on: meticulously design yet an irrevocable feeling of spontaneity lying behind every corner. “Changes” features such spontaneity as well, commencing with a lone flute that reoccurs, throughout. Eastern-inflected rhythms coupled with all five Zombies on vocals can make “Changes” a challenging song at first listen but the excellent vocals and expert production even the song out, making even the outlandish earthbound. “Changes” was also the final recorded track during the sessions, finished just as their time was ending; White recalls, “the fellows in the white coats were removing the piano while we were recording it. That’s actually on the album!” I can’t hear it but I’ll take his word for it.
The final five tracks of Odessey and Oracle each deserve inordinate amounts of praise but I’ll be brief for a moment. “I Want Her, She Wants Me” is a pop essential. Once again, White gives a stellar performance on bass, making up for lost time. White’s bass was perhaps most neglected during earlier years but here and on most of Odessey, White gives great performances. Argent returns for vocals once again, as well as providing his harpsichord playing to the track. White’s “This Will Be Our Year” pushes the baroque pop the Zombies do so well even further, adding an awesome brass section to Blunstone’s strong vocal performance. The upbeat “Friends Of Mine” is a joyful ode to, well, friends. One of the most charismatic of all the songs, “Friends” has Blunstone tearing through names of friends, the recording ending with Blunstone’s gasp for breathe.
Of the final five, two stand out far beyond every other track on the album for me: the aforementioned “Time of the Season” and “Butcher’s Tale (Western Front 1914).” Upon first listening to”Butcher’s Tale”, I couldn’t help but be taken by surprise. The song is penned by Chris White, self admitted World War I buff, and the lyrics evoke the terror of war from the eyes of s soldier. The song seems somewhat out of place in the context of the album but it fits somehow and is definitely a creative zenith for the Zombies. White gives a rare lead vocal performance here, although his shaky vocals are perfectly suited for the lamentations: “I have seen a friend of mine/Hang on the wire, like some rag toy/Then in the heat, the flies come down/And cover up the boy.” His vocals are backed by a Phantom-of-the-Opera pedal organ they dragged to the studio specifically for the song. When White reaches the chorus, his voice takes a turn towards the atonal but one can’t help but feel the force behind his vocals, no matter how amateur. Powerful stuff.
And once again, we are back to “Time of the Season”. This was the first Zombies song I ever heard, I remember convincing myself in years past that the song was done by a Mo-Town band. The track is the epitome of smooth, from the amazing organ solos courtesy of Rod Argent to Grundy’s interesting rhythms and the instantly recognizable hand claps and ahhs. And while the song is constructed complexly, one can help but reach the conclusion that it just sounds too simple. The Zombies did what all great bands do, make the utterly impossible sound effortless.
Odessey and Oracle, in all the ways it separates itself from other albums of the era, was ultimately subject the methods of the time. The album ended as a rushed affair, which was the result of several factors. While the Zombies were guaranteed artistic control, CBS expected them to produce. So when the first singles produced by the album flopped, much to the dismay of both the Zombies and their benefactors, things began looking grim. The Zombies were still in the process of completing the mixing of the album at this point and seeing this failure was the last straw for the band. Since most of the time spent lately had been in the recording studio, the band wasn’t able to perform live and thus, had entered financial difficulties. The failure of the initial singles cemented it: the band would disband after the album was finished. Odyssey and Oracle was chosen as the title but rushed cover artwork led to a misspelling, “Odessey,” a mistake that wasn’t even noticed until it was too late. The album was released unceremoniously in England and only made it state-side by providence and the will of CBS A&R man, Al Kooper. By the time “Time of the Season” had become a hit single in the U.S., the band had been disbanded for almost a half a year.
The album has been released a myriad of times now, re-mastered, piled on with extras, extensive liner notes and the works. The brevity of Odessey allowed room for future versions to add mono and stereo versions, unreleased tracks and whatever else. But the core album, 12 tracks and about 34 minutes, is pure magic.
Folks, The Pretender is just around the corner, and so Jackson Browne is on the brain. And when Jackson Browne is on the brain, he’s also in the heart. For he’s a songwriter who exemplifies the use of both. Oh yes, this show on June 13th is going to be a goodie.
When Jackson Browne was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2004, Bruce Springsteen said that to him, “Jackson was always the tempered voice of Abel. Toiling in the vineyards, here to bear the earthly burdens, confronting the impossibility of love, here to do his father’s work.” The voice of Abel… Whew. Hard not to feel that one in the marrow of your bones. This is a description of a soul so deep, he can lend a voice to the sufferer, to the downtrodden and broken hearted. Here’s a spirit who doesn’t shy away from what’s hard in a life.
This depth isn’t necessarily obvious in his most famous work, like “Take it Easy,” “Doctor My Eyes,” or even the title track for our record “The Pretender.” Though those might be his most famous songs, they showcase his breezy California side, the long-haired, barefoot, everything is beautiful Jackson Browne. Not to take away from the brilliance of that side, but it is his darker catalog that showcases the richness of Jackson Browne. “These Days” or “For a Dancer,” well almost anything on the album Late for the Sky, really show where Jackson’s heart truly is. “Jackson was one of the first songwriters I met who demonstrated the value of thinking hard about what you were saying, your subject,” Springsteen also said at the induction ceremony. And you can see what he means in Jackson’s darker songs.
Jackson’s songs have been done by so many standouts. The Eagles, The Byrds, Joan Baez, Linda Ronstadt, Nico, Tom Rush, to name a few. There’s a reason for this, and it’s not just that the guy writes a great song. It’s that those songs are great because they come from a place that we all at times know and feel. Jackson Browne has long been able to dip his pail into some well of universal emotion. And we’re all the luckier because he’s pulled it to the surface, let us sip from it, let us see ourselves in its waters.
-David Berkeley, ATL Collective Co-Founder
