Fields - Fields USA 1969

This obscure trio from Southern California released just one self-titled album in 1969, containing a heady mix of rock, blues, soul, and psychedelia; but by then, vocalist/guitarist Richard Fortunato, bassist Patrick Burke, and drummer Steven Lagana had already traveled a long and colorful road. Fortunato and Lagana first played together in the mid-'60s, in a garage band called the Preachers, but it wasn't until they joined forces with Burke and another couple of musicians under the long-winded moniker the W.C. Fields Memorial String Band that they recorded a few singles -- most notably 1966's "Hippy Elevator Operator." By the following year and next single, "Mushroom People," they were simply called ESB (short for the Electric String Band), and then, finally, Fields, after evolving into a pared-down trio molded after Cream. That, of course, led to the aforementioned LP, which was released in a gatefold sleeve and featured backing vocals from Motown legend Brenda Holloway and the Raelettes, but still fell mostly on deaf ears and resulted in the band's demise shortly thereafter.
A single self-titled album -- that's what the California power trio Fields left behind in 1969. Guitarist Richard Fortunato, bassist Patrick Burke, and drummer Steven Lagana had been deeply influenced by Cream, by the sound of things. Fields recorded this slab for UNI with producer Bill Rinehart (formerly of Emitt Rhodes' Merry-Go-Round). The first four cuts are solidly in the hard and heavy blues-rock terrain, with twinges of psychedelia tossed in the opening "Elysian Fields" and "Jump on You," two standouts with lots of great guitar work. Things begin to change a bit on "Sun Would Set," where the wasted psychedelia takes precedence over the rough and tumble; even with the Raelettes on backing vocals and the spaced-out wasted lyrics, it's still guitar-drenched and driven into the red so the impressionistic touches are hardly noticeable. Side two is comprised of a single cut -- "Love Is the Word" is nearly 19 minutes long and is one of those utterly ambitious and crazy experiments that actually worked, with bluesed-out acid rock guitar, whomping basslines, and a skittering though steady snare and shimmering cymbals. An overdriven organ enters the picture and then comes the fuzz. After about five minutes of power soloing, a Stax-inspired soul riff is established, the horns come pushing their way in, and we're off to the races. Along with the band, Northern soul chanteuse (courtesy of Motown Records) Brenda Holloway and the Raelettes come in from outer space and enter the groove, making this a full-blown psychedelic-soul tune that never, ever gives up its groove, grease, or grit. The vocals here are almost as deliriously powerful and lusty as the screaming six-string and overblown bass groove. Thank the gods that the Fields' LP has been dusted off, remastered, and reissued by Fallout on CD. Simply amazing. AMG.

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Dennis Olivieri - Come To The Party 1968

Freeform folky psych rock with organ, rocksichord, sax, guitar, percussion. Weird, uncommercial
LP produced by songwriter Tandyn Almer, this has been used for samples. Olivieri was primarily
a TV actor, and this LP release parallels Rex Holman's in some ways.

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Electric Sandwich - Electric Sandwich 1973

With plenty of Mellotron lending itself to a base of jazz-rock fusion, the members of Electric Sandwich used improvisation and the skills they had learned from other bands to create a spirited self-titled album. Each track grasps a different type of progressive rock element and tempo so that something new arises with every cut. The lyrics are intelligent and conceptual, effusing a folklore essence in their poetry. But the words soon become overshadowed, especially in the introductory track entitled "China," thanks to the peculiar swing and quiver of the saxophone. "China" is easily the album's strongest, combining a hippie-esque sway to the beatnik pounce of the background drums. When prominent, Jochen Carthaus' vocals reflect a semi-gruff fringe blues sound that clings tightly to the instruments, even when the keyboards are accompanying him. "Devil's Dream" soars on the unaccustomed texture of Carthaus' singing, but it's the mysterious-sounding guitar riff and an unsteady, unfamiliar rhythm that makes it unique. In "Material Darkness," the unmitigated horn work makes for an expansive jazz-like backdrop for the guitar and keys. On the whole, Electric Sandwich is a rather pleasing assortment of numerous progressive styles, all of which are steered unwaveringly by a rock-induced composite. Sadly, the band's talents wouldn't prosper any further. After this album, many of Electric Sandwich's personnel demanded the band take on a jazzier sound, which led to a dismantling of the group a short time after this release. AMG.
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Friend & Lover - Reach Out Of The Darkness 1968

Jim Post was a member of a Canadian folk group called the Rum Runners when he met Cathy Conn, who was part of a dance company appearing at the same state fair that he was playing. She gave up dancing and married Post, and he taught her enough about singing so that the two made a credible duo on stage. They lacked Ian & Sylvia's delicate interweaving of voices, but Conn could really belt out a chorus, and Post had a pleasing tenor. Billing themselves as Friend & Lover, they played clubs while developing a sound and a repertory, and cut their debut single, "If Tomorrow," produced by Joe South, for ABC-Paramount. It failed to chart, and though they were good enough to rate support act status with the Buckinghams and even Cream, the duo seemed to be going nowhere until Jerry Schoenbaum, the head of MGM/Verve, became impressed with Post's song "Reach Out of the Darkness." An upbeat, ebullient song that crossed midway between Spanky & Our Gang and the early Jefferson Airplane, it was ideal for the summer of 1968, a point when the last, lingering glow of the previous year's psychedelic summer was still visible' if only through eyes clouded by nostalgic longing amid the worsening political strife of the period. The song itself was a distant cousin to the Byrds' "Renaissance Fair," David Crosby's stunningly beautiful musical memory of the first San Francisco Be-In; in this case, the inspiration was Post's having attended a love-in in New York City, and the sense of freedom that was in the air. The record struck a responsive chord, making number ten on the national charts, but the duo was never able to follow it up with any success, despite two singles and an LP issued in their wake. They played out their Verve contract, losing a lucrative offer from Columbia Records in the process when Verve wouldn't let them go, and then moved to Cadet Records as Jim & Cathy. The couple later divorced, ending the duo's history, and Post has since recorded for a multitude of labels and ventured into playwriting and theatrical production.
Friend & Lover's "Reach Out of the Darkness," with its infectious opening rally cry of "I think it's so groovy now that people are finally gettin' together" provided the flower power movement -- and a late-'80s television commercial for the Freedom Rock box set -- with an unofficial anthem for the swinging '60s. The husband-and-wife team of Jim Post (Friend) and Cathy Conn (Lover) never managed to score another hit, but their little gift to the protest movement has -- for better or for worse -- shown an impressive amount of staying power. A colorful mix of early Jefferson Airplane-style idealism, soul, and psychedelic pop, their 1968 debut harbored more than just the signature tune that graced its cover. "The Way We Were in the Beginning" is pure Odessa-era Bee Gees, "Boston Is a Lovely Town" sounds like the sequel to Petula Clark's "Downtown," and "Weddin' March (I Feel Groovy)" could have given Sonny & Cher a run for their money. While nothing on Reach Out of the Darkness radiates any sort of social gravity or depth, it's also not in the least bit pretentious. In fact, listeners with the cognitive abilities to bypass lyrics like "I wonder why people do not like the lovely dandelion," from the Donovan-esque "Ode to a Dandelion," may find themselves dancing and laughing along at the sheer innocence of it all. AMG.

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David Friesen & John Stowell - Through The Listening Glass 1978

On first glance, Through the Listening Glass is a duet recording between bassist David Friesen and guitarist John Stowell, at the time two burgeoning jazz fusion musicians whose kinship to the world sound of the group Oregon is easy to recognize. As one absorbs this music, you realize this album could easily be titled "The Art of the Overdub." Using multiple basses and guitars, percussion instruments, and the soprano sax of Gary Campbell, Friesen and Stowell create landscapes and skyscapes of sound on sound, at times a bit busy, mostly reaching for inner truths and a connection to some other dimension. There's no modicum of earthiness, but they strive to reach for the heavens, and use the technology of the times to create conversations within basic texts, layering them to a degree approaching epiphany. Friesen's spiritual center is quite prevalent on pieces like "Wings of Light" yet has a jazzier construct, and a pared-down focus among the three players. "Autumn Ballet" is the most uncomplicated piece, a simple bass/guitar duet with no accoutrements, while a similar sparse style is identified with a dual bass excursion in the intro, Stowell's 12-string invited to cozy up on "High Places/Secret Moments of Silence." The larger, orchestral-oriented "Peace for the Enduring Heart" is pastoral, featuring four bowed bass tracks, and two soprano and one tenor sax overdub from Campbell. "Opening Out" features the always-far-reaching Stowell on his own with two 12-string guitars, a six-string, and a cymbal in loose refrains. The title track, as beautifully rendered as all of the other selections, is particularly angelic and lovely in its ultra-melodic, memorable stance that resonates with Friesen's bass, Stowell's 12-string and Campbell's two soaring soprano sax tracks dancing the joyous, passionate night away. There's some African-influenced music here too, as log drums and shakuhachi flutes are employed during the more new age, space-music track "Wisdom's Star." "Ancient Kings" is perhaps a definitive track that uses the overdub technique to the hilt, as a mbira and log drum played by Stowell buoy Campbell's two soprano tracks, and Friesen's bowed morning horizon, semi-tropical bass/bass/percussion, and a cymbal stroke here and there. The unlikely quick, romping and rolling beat of "Carousel Parade" with just the headline participants seems a rushed afterthought, but still is fun to listen to. This album has been reissued on CD, and along with Stowell's Golden Delicious, Friesen's Star Dance, and Waterfall Rainbow, and the duo's Other Mansions provides a five-part look at what these quite capable artists were creating as fusion waned in the late '70s. AMG.

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Deep Purple - Fireball 1971

One of Deep Purple's four indispensable albums (the others being In Rock, Machine Head, and Burn), 1971's Fireball saw the band broadening out from the no-holds-barred hard rock direction of the previous year's cacophonous In Rock. Metal machine noises introduced the sizzling title track -- an unusually compact but explosively tight group effort on which Jon Lord's organ truly shined. The somewhat tiring repetitions of "No No No" actually threatened to drop the ball next, but the fantastic single "Strange Kind of Woman" nimbly caught and set it rolling again, just in time for the innuendo-encrusted hilarity of "Anyone's Daughter," featuring one of singer Ian Gillan's first (and still best) humorous storylines to go with one of guitarist Ritchie Blackmore's most uncharacteristic, bluesiest performances ever. "The Mule" opened the vinyl album's second side with what is perhaps Purple's finest instrumental, and on the hyper-extended "Fools," the bandmembers proved they could flirt with progressive rock without plunging off its cliff (although the song could probably have done without its drawn-out middle section). And closing the album was the exceptional "No One Came," where intertwining instrumental lines locked together beautifully, Gillan wove another entertaining yarn that was part autobiography and part Monty Python, and the often underrated skills of drummer Ian Paice helped the song sound so unreservedly fresh and intuitive that one could almost be convinced the band had winged it on the spot. Sure, the following year's Machine Head would provide Deep Purple with their commercial peak, but on Fireball, the formidable quintet was already firing on all cylinders. AMG.

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Champion Jack Dupree - From New Orleans To Chicago 1966

A formidable contender in the ring before he shifted his focus to pounding the piano instead, Champion Jack Dupree often injected his lyrics with a rowdy sense of down-home humor. But there was nothing lighthearted about his rock-solid way with a boogie; when he shouted "Shake Baby Shake," the entire room had no choice but to acquiesce.

Dupree was notoriously vague about his beginnings, claiming in some interviews that his parents died in a fire set by the Ku Klux Klan, at other times saying that the blaze was accidental. Whatever the circumstances of the tragic conflagration, Dupree grew up in New Orleans' Colored Waifs' Home for Boys (Louis Armstrong also spent his formative years there). Learning his trade from barrelhouse 88s ace Willie "Drive 'em Down" Hall, Dupree left the Crescent City in 1930 for Chicago and then Detroit. By 1935, he was boxing professionally in Indianapolis, battling in an estimated 107 bouts.

In 1940, Dupree made his recording debut for Chicago A&R man extraordinaire Lester Melrose and OKeh Records. Dupree's 1940-1941 output for the Columbia subsidiary exhibited a strong New Orleans tinge despite the Chicago surroundings; his driving "Junker's Blues" was later cleaned up as Fats Domino's 1949 debut, "The Fat Man." After a stretch in the Navy during World War II (he was a Japanese P.O.W. for two years), Dupree decided tickling the 88s beat pugilism any old day. He spent most of his time in New York and quickly became a prolific recording artist, cutting for Continental, Joe Davis, Alert, Apollo, and Red Robin (where he cut a blasting "Shim Sham Shimmy" in 1953), often in the company of Brownie McGhee. Contracts meant little; Dupree masqueraded as Brother Blues on Abbey, Lightnin' Jr. on Empire, and the truly imaginative Meat Head Johnson for Gotham and Apex.

King Records corralled Dupree in 1953 and held onto him through 1955 (the year he enjoyed his only R&B chart hit, the relaxed "Walking the Blues.") Dupree's King output rates with his very best; the romping "Mail Order Woman," "Let the Doorbell Ring," and "Big Leg Emma's" contrasting with the rural "Me and My Mule" (Dupree's vocal on the latter emphasizing a harelip speech impediment for politically incorrect pseudo-comic effect).

After a year on RCA's Groove and Vik subsidiaries, Dupree made a masterpiece LP for Atlantic. 1958's Blues From the Gutter is a magnificent testament to Dupree's barrelhouse background, boasting marvelous readings of "Stack-O-Lee," "Junker's Blues," and "Frankie & Johnny" beside the risqué "Nasty Boogie." Dupree was one of the first bluesmen to leave his native country for a less racially polarized European existence in 1959. He lived in a variety of countries overseas, continuing to record prolifically for Storyville, British Decca (with John Mayall and Eric Clapton lending a hand at a 1966 date), and many other firms.

Perhaps sensing his own mortality, Dupree returned to New Orleans in 1990 for his first visit in 36 years. While there, he played the Jazz & Heritage Festival and laid down a zesty album for Bullseye Blues, Back Home in New Orleans. Two more albums of new material were captured by the company the next year prior to the pianist's death in January of 1992. Jack Dupree was a champ to the very end. AMG.

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