Ringo Starr [2008] Liverpool 8

[01] Liverpool 8
[02] Think About You
[03] For Love
[04] Now That She's Gone Away
[05] Gone Are The Days
[06] Give It A Try
[07] Tuff Love
[08] Harry's Song
[09] Pasodobles
[10] If It's Love That You Want
[11] Love Is
[12] R U Ready



amg: For a Beatle, Ringo Starr has had a relatively quiet latter-day solo career. After salvaging his tattered reputation in 1992 with Time Takes Time — his first album in nearly a decade and his first in nearly 20 years to serve his legend well — Starr settled into touring regularly with his ever-changing All-Starr Band, documenting almost every tour with a live album, then turning out a new studio album every three or four years. After Time Takes Time, all these albums were recorded in collaboration with Mark Hudson, best known as one of '70s popsters the Hudson Brothers but also an L.A. session man who slowly became Ringo's right-hand man. Starr's albums with Hudson never grabbed much attention outside the Beatles hardcore — unlike Time Takes Time, they were rarely studded with stars and once he decamped from the majors to the indie Koch in 2003, they never received much of a marketing push, either, so they played solely to the devoted, who were always satisfied by the happily Beatlesque music Starr made with Hudson. This collaboration continued into 2007 as the duo embarked on what would become the Liverpool 8 album, but they had a falling out in the final stages of recording, with former Eurythmic David A. Stewart brought in at the last minute to polish up the album and collaborate on its title song. Stewart helps give Liverpool 8 the gloss the album needs as it's not only Ringo's first major-label album in five years, it's his homecoming to Capitol Records, the label that released the Beatles albums and Starr's first, best solo albums (highlights from which dominated the 2007 hits comp Photograph, released a matter of months before Liverpool 8).

On the surface, Liverpool 8 does indeed feel a bit like a comeback: Stewart's "re-production" — so named in the liner notes as he gussied up Hudson's original production — turns the music shiny and sleek and there are several cheerful forays into baby boomer nostalgia, whether it's the outright reference to "It Don't Come Easy" on "Gone Are the Days" or Ringo's stroll through his back pages on "Liverpool 8," reminiscent of Paul McCartney's marveling at his past on "That Was Me," a rollicking number on his 2007 album Memory Almost Full. At times, Liverpool 8 recalls Memory in how it balances nostalgia and mortality — on "R U Ready" Ringo jovially stares into the great beyond — which is just enough of a hook to reel in boomers who haven't listened to Ringo in years. Nevertheless, this sentimentality, like the Stewart reproduction, is just window dressing on an album that is essentially not all that different than the three that preceded it. Liverpool 8 is a relaxed, amiable collection of friendly pop tunes: it's nothing too flashy and it has no one tune that calls attention to itself, but it's a well-constructed, casually charming pop record. In a way, the smaller-scale productions of the Koch records served latter-day Ringo better, as they were as humble and unpretentious as his music, but even if Liverpool 8 is a little bit too pumped up and slick for its own good, Starr remains eminently likable, which is enough for those who have enjoyed Ringorama or Choose Love. However, it may not be enough for those hoping for another Ringo or Goodnight Vienna, which is what the big marketing push, complete with the album's release as a USB bracelet, suggests it is. Liverpool 8 is not another Memory Almost Full, an album that offers enough reminders of the past but is about the present; it is merely another good latter-day record for Ringo, filled with songs about love and spiked with a ridiculous novelty number (this time, it's "Pasodobles," where Starr warbles about a Spanish dance). For those who already love Ringo, that's plenty good enough, but for those who often (and often unfairly) run the good man down, this is too light, easygoing, and sometimes unapologetically silly to change their minds.
(amg 6/10)

Red Hot Chili Peppers [2006] Stadium Arcadium

[101] Dani California
[102] Snow (Hey Oh)
[103] Charlie
[104] Stadium Arcadium
[105] Hump De Bump
[106] She's Only 18
[107] Slow Cheetah
[108] Torture Me
[109] Strip My Mind
[110] Especially In Michigan
[111] Warlocks
[112] C'mon Girl
[113] Wet Sand
[114] Hey
[201] Desecration Smile
[202] Tell Me Baby
[203] Hard To Concentrate
[204] 21st Century
[205] She Looks To Me
[206] Readymade
[207] If
[208] Make You Feel Better
[209] Animal Bar
[210] So Much I
[211] Storm In A Teacup
[212] We Believe
[213] Turn It Again
[214] Death Of A Martian



amg: Indulgence has long been a way of life for the Red Hot Chili Peppers, yet they resisted the siren's call of the double album until 2006's Stadium Arcadium. Sure, 1991's breakthrough Blood Sugar Sex Magik was as long as a classic double LP, but such distinctions mattered little in the era when vinyl gave way to CD, and they matter less now, as the CD gradually gives way to digital-only releases. In fact, like how Blood Sugar was the tipping point when the LPs ceded ground to CDs, Stadium Arcadium could be seen as the point when albums were seen as a collection of digital playlists. Yes, it's pressed up as a two-disc set — including an extravagant but pointless special edition housed in a clunky box that includes a make-yer-own-spinning-top — but this is an album that's designed for you to mix and match, create your own playlist, rip and burn on your own. It's designed for you to sequence its 28 songs in some kind of cohesive manner, since the band sure didn't take the time to do that here; it's the first major album by a major band that makes as much sense on random as it does in its proper sequencing. Well, that's not entirely true: the official 28-song album does begin with "Dani California," the clearest single here, the one thing that truly grabs attention upon first listen and worms its way into your subconscious, where it just won't let go, as so much of Anthony Kiedis' catchiest melodies do. After that, it's a long, winding path of alternately spacey and sunny pop, ballads, and the occasional funk workout that used to be the Chili Peppers' signature but now functions as a way to break up the monotony. And there needs to be something to break up the monotony, not because the music is bad but because it all exists at the same level and is given a flat, colorless production that has become the signature of Rick Rubin as of late.

Rubin may be able to create the right atmosphere for Flea and John Frusciante to run wild creatively — an opportunity that they seize here, which is indeed a pleasure to hear — but he does nothing to encourage them to brighten the finished recording up with some different textures, or even a greater variety of guitar tones. As such, the bare-bone production combined with the relentless march of songs gives Stadium Arcadium the undeniable feel of wading through the demos for a promising project instead of a sprawling statement of purpose; there's not enough purpose here for it to be a statement. That fault is down to the band not forming the raw material into something palatable for the listener, but there's also the problem that as a lyricist Anthony Kiedis just isn't that deep or clever enough to provide cohesive themes for an album of this length; he tackles no new themes here, nor does he provide new insight to familiar topics. To his credit, he does display a greater versatility as a vocalist, cutting back on the hambone rapping that used to be his signature and crooning throughout the bulk of this album, usually on key. That said, he still has enough goofy tics to undercut his attempts at sincerity, and he tends to be a bit of a liability to the band as a whole; with a different singer, who could help shape and deliver these songs, this album might not seem as formless and gormless. But there is a fair amount of pleasures here, all down to the interplay between Flea and Frusciante. While drummer Chad Smith does prove himself quite versatile here, gracefully following the eccentric turns and meanderings of the bassist and guitarist, the string instruments are the reason to listen to Stadium Arcadium. That's always been the case to a certain extent with the Chili Peppers, but here it's especially true, as they push and pull, rave and rumble, lie back and rock out — pretty much spit out anything they can do on their instruments over the course of 28 songs. As good as much of this is, there is a little bit of monotony here, since they're working variations on their signature themes, and they haven't found a way to make these variations either transcendent or new; they're just very good renditions on familiar themes. These tracks rarely betray their origins as studio jams — more than ever, it's possible to hear that the track came first, then the song — and while that can result in some good listening, it all does kind of drift together. That said, there are no bad tracks here — it's all of a relatively high quality — but there are no standouts either, so it takes a very dedicated fan to start sorting out the subtleties between the tracks (not the wheat from the chaff, since it's all wheat). And while those hardcore fans may certainly enjoy the make-your-own-adventure spirit of Stadium Arcadium, it's hard not to feel that it's the band's responsibility to take this very good repetitive album and mold it into something sharper and more effective. So call it the rock version of Peter Jackson's King Kong: there's something pretty great and lean buried beneath the excess, but it's so indulgent, it's a work that only a fanboy could truly love.
(amg 7/10)

Ray LaMontagne [2006] Till The Sun Turns Black

[01] Be Here Now
[02] Empty
[03] Barfly
[04] Three More Days
[05] Can I Stay
[06] You Can Bring Me Flowers
[07] Gone Away From Me
[08] Lesson Learned
[09] Truly, Madly, Deeply
[10] Till The Sun Turns Black
[11] Within You



amg: If it weren't for his singing voice, so full of smoke and ether, one would be hard-pressed to believe that Till the Sun Turns Black was made by the same man who recorded Trouble just two years prior. Ray LaMontagne takes a brave leap from the rootsy singer/songwriter material of his debut album and does a 180. Once more collaborating with producer and multi-instrumentalist Ethan Johns, the singer-songwriter turns in a highly textured, atmospheric, and subdued performance on his sophomore effort. All the grit and earth in LaMontagne's voice on Trouble, and the basic country-folk and R&B (on the title track) has been swept out like ashes in the morning here. This new set is startling. The reliance on skeletal, delicate string arrangements adds much to the interior nature of these songs. LaMontagne has used the projection in his lyrics and his voice and turned them inside out. He's slower, more subtle, more restrained everywhere here. His lines are economical, full of space and tension, as if they were being performed alone in a room in the middle of the night. Johns' use of strings and keyboards paints LaMontagne's voice and underscores his delivery with a quiet drama that reveals itself inside the listener.

Check LaMontagne's opener, "Be Here Now," with the guitar finding its way toward the singer as a quartet of violins, two cellos, and a bowed bass emerge to support his voice in the void of silence Johns creates around it. Johns' piano fills in odd spaces. They don't seem to add up, but they do when LaMontagne's vocal whispers its way forward into that small swelling shadow. On the bluesy "You Can Bring Me Flowers," a horn section is used to highlight and extol LaMontagne's tough lyrics; but there is more Tim Buckley and Tom Rush here than Otis Redding or Sam Cooke, but it's all LaMontagne. The jazzy flute and funky dobro don't sound like country, but more like country-blues from an earlier time. By contrast, the whispering acoustic guitars and strings in the title cut are frames to fit a voice inside, and LaMontagne's does; then shatters it when confessed emotion blurs then shatters the edges. These are songs no one else can sing. LaMontagne's sense of phrase and rhyme are idiosyncratic, never overbearing; he allows the listener into his world, slowly, deliberately; his observations and nearly overwhelming emotion are too big to keep to himself — as the strings swell, all he can do is moan, then nearly growl, wordlessly. Till the Sun Turns Black is a giant leap forward. LaMontagne reveals himself to be a sophisticated pop artist who can find in simple forms something utterly engaging and communicative. This record could have been made 20 years ago but in another two decades will still sound fresh.
(amg 8/10)

Ray LaMontagne [2004] Trouble

[01] Trouble
[02] Shelter
[03] Hold You In My Arms
[04] Narrow Escape
[05] Burn
[06] Forever My Friend
[07] Hannah
[08] How Come
[09] Jolene
[10] All The Wild Horses
[11] Forever My Friend [Bonus Live Track]



amg: The best songs on Trouble, the debut release from songwriter Ray LaMontagne, draw on deep wells of emotion, and with LaMontagne's sandpapery voice, which recalls a gruffer, more sedate version of Tim Buckley or an American version of Van Morrison, they seem to belie his years. The title tune, "Trouble," is an instant classic, sparse and maudlin (in the best sense), and songs like "Narrow Escape," a ragged, episodic waltz, are equally impressive, with careful, cinematic lyrics that tell believable stories of wounded-hearted refugees on the hard road of life and love. Most of the tracks fall into a midtempo shuffle rhythm, so the words have to carry a lot in order to avert a sort of dull sameness, and when it works, it works big, and when it doesn't, well, LaMontagne is so serious and sincere about his craft that you tend to forgive him instantly. Sara Watkins of Nickel Creek guests on "Hannah" and the sad, somber lullaby "All the Wild Horses," playing fiddle and adding vocals, and producer Ethan Johns adds drums and other touches on most tracks. The sound is measured and sparse, with few frills (a five-piece string section is used on a few tracks, but is never intrusive), all of which supports the emotional urgency of LaMontagne's writing. "How Come" sounds a bit like a rewrite of Dave Mason's "Feelin' Alright," and a couple of other cuts seem a bit labored, but overall this is an impressive debut by an extremely special songwriter.
(amg 7/10)

Robert Wyatt [2003] Cuckooland

[01] Just A Bit
[02] Old Europe
[03] Tom Hay's Fox
[04] Forest
[05] Beware
[06] Cuckoo Madame
[07] Raining In My Heart
[08] Lullaby For Hamza
[09] Trickle Down
[10] Insensatez
[11] Mister E
[12] Lullaloop
[13] Life Is Sheep
[14] Foreign Accents
[15] Brian The Fox
[16] La Ahada Yalam



amg: Robert Wyatt's first full-length of new material since 1997's Shleep is no less mischievous, witty, and poignant. As has become his custom, Wyatt offers a set of 16 new songs seemingly composed for a wide array of musicians including Annie Whitehead, Eno, David Gilmour, Tomo Hayakawa, Karen Mantler, Phil Manzanera, Paul Weller, and others he enlisted to record it. The album is divided into two halves. The first eight selections being 'neither here...' while the last eight are 'nor there...'. What divides the halves are in Wyatt's mind and aesthetics alone, as the disc feels like a seamless, unified whole. From the opener, "Just A Bit," a dastardly yet delightful bit of cynicism directed at organized religion and new age phoniness, the listener hears Wyatt in good humor with razor-sharp political sensibilities, and in fantastic musical form. The songs on Cuckooland are, in many ways, the most accessible he's written since Nothing Can Stop Us. Shleep had its moments in terms of this kind of "accessibility," but more often than not saturated itself in Wyatt's consummate and wonderfully listenable weirdness. Here, on cuts like "Old European," one of five collaborations with poet Alfreda Benge, Wyatt's wife, French salon music, smoky jazz from the cool jazz era, bossa rhythms, and Anglo melodies entwine in a bewitching nocturnal pop song. Others, such as "Beware," one of a pair of writing collaborations with Karen Mantler — who contributed two more fine songs written for Wyatt'set — feature the strident harmonics of post-millennial jazz as it intersects in dialogue with pop forms from the ancient to the future. Mantler's and Wyatt's voices sound lovely together in this tale of paranoia and woe, and Wyatt's trumpet solo is gorgeous. Wyatt's reading of Ms. Benge's "Lullaloop" is a gorgeous, wooly bit of swinging New Orleans jazz, shot through with Weller's bluesy, distorted, electric guitar solo and big, wondrous trombones by Whitehead. Wyatt covers, in his own fashion, the Boudleaux Bryant's classic "Raining In My Heart," accompanied only by his piano, and does a stellar, deeply emotional take of the Jobim & DeMoraes' classic "Insensataez." Wyatt's "Trickle Down"" is a knotty bit of loping post bop jazz interspersed with sax samples from "Old Europe," and killer double bass runs from Yaron Stavi. "Lullaby For Hamza," and the instrumental "La Anda Yalam" (the latter written by Nizar Zreik), portrayt two sides of the Gulf Wars, one dovetailing the other, bringing about with unnerving, poetically moving, and damning conviction, the side of these wars not often revealed to Westerners. These are tomes full of melodic and harmonic creativity, offered as deathly serious as words of elegance and grace, and become elegies sending the listener off with more to think about than a pop album would normally dictate. Wyatt has decorated his own booklet with lively, minimal artworks, and has annotated his songs to document certain facts, locations and occurrences, making the entire package indispensable. Most importantly, Wyatt has demonstrated once again that it makes no difference what else is going on in the pop world, he still creates a fiercely independent and wide open notion of song and composition that is always abundantly "musical," topically relevant, as well as entertaining, provocative, and completely, utterly engaging from top to bottom.
(amg 9/10)

Roland Orzabal [2000] Tomcats Screaming Outside

[01] Ticket To The World
[02] Low Life
[03] Hypnoculture
[04] Bullets For Brains
[05] For The Love Of Cain
[06] Under Ether
[07] Day By Day By Day By Day By Day
[08] Dandelion
[09] Hey Andy!
[10] Kill Love
[11] Snowdrop
[12] Maybe Our Days Are Numbered



amg: Tears for Fears' Roland Orzabal is a musical actor, an abstract poet, and a music connoisseur. His lush lyrical imagery has provided vivid imagism and an emotion sparked from his own inquisitive nature since fronting one of the '80s' biggest acts. Creative differences and signature arrogance allowed he and bandmate Curt Smith's musical magic to dissolve after 1989's The Seeds of Love, making Orzabal's solo days fronting Tears for Fears to be disenchanting and practically forced. And despite rumor of the duo coming back together to write and perform under the moniker that made them a staple among the charts, Orzabal issued his first proper debut album just after the dawn of the millennium. Tomcats Screaming Outside illustrates Orzabal's bright mind with classic philosophical disposition; however, he's honest and eager, no longer concerned with the past. He refrains from psychologically picking his mind apart; rather, he's plucking from social indifference and its want for quick desire. His focus on sharp electronics and the uncomplicated nature of songs such as "Hypnoculture" and "For the Love of Cain" present Orzabal's newfound comfort. He's still ambitious, yes, but not arrogantly so. "Dandelion" grazes with nasty riffs, leaving Orzabal to twist his large vocals to stretch alongside them. "Ticket to the World" and "Maybe Our Days Are Numbered" ironically capture Orzabal's fixation with a greater love, another hurt, and a life outside of what everyone already knows. Tomcats Screaming Outside aptly defines his burgeoning creative desire as well as his hungry nature to write a song that reaches outside the heart and beyond the mind. The overall composition of this album is tough, a bit young with musical instrumentation, but a decent look at Orzabal's keen talent as both a singer and a songwriter. He's still got it.
(amg 8/10)

Red Hot Chili Peppers [1999] Californication

[01] Around The World
[02] Parallel Universe
[03] Scar Tissue
[04] Otherside
[05] Get On Top
[06] Californication
[07] Easily
[08] Porcelain
[09] Emit Remmus
[10] I Like Dirt
[11] This Velvet Glove
[12] Savior
[13] Purple Stain
[14] Right On Time
[15] Road Trippin'



amg: Many figured that the Red Hot Chili Peppers' days as undisputed alternative kings were numbered after their lackluster 1995 release One Hot Minute, but like the great phoenix rising from the ashes, this legendary and influential outfit returned back to greatness with 1999's Californication. An obvious reason for their rebirth is the reappearance of guitarist John Frusciante (replacing Dave Navarro), who left the Peppers in 1992 and disappeared into a haze of hard drugs before cleaning up and returning to the fold in 1998. Frusciante was a main reason for such past band classics as 1989's Mother's Milk and 1991's Blood Sugar Sex Magik, and proves once and for all to be the quintessential RHCP guitarist. Anthony Kiedis' vocals have improved dramatically as well, while the rhythm section of bassist Flea and drummer Chad Smith remains one of rock's best. The quartet's trademark punk-funk can be sampled on such tracks as "Around the World," "I Like Dirt," and "Parallel Universe," but the more pop-oriented material proves to be a pleasant surprise — "Scar Tissue," "Otherside," "Easily," and "Purple Stain" all contain strong melodies and instantly memorable choruses. And like their 1992 introspective hit "Under the Bridge," there are even a few mellow moments — "Porcelain," "Road Trippin'," and the title track. With the instrumentalists' interplay at an all-time telepathic high and Kiedis peaking as a vocalist, Californication is a bona fide Chili Peppers classic.
(amg 8/10)

Robert Wyatt [1997] Shleep

[01] Heaps Of Sheeps
[02] The Duchess
[03] Maryan
[04] Was A Friend
[05] Free Will And Testament
[06] September The Ninth
[07] Alien
[08] Out Of Season
[09] A Sunday In Madrid
[10] Blues In Bob Minor
[11] The Whole Point Of No Return



amg: Robert Wyatt continues to follow his singular musical path with the lovely Shleep, delivering another album of considerable quirky charm and understated beauty; a less melancholy affair than much of his recent work, the record is informed by a hazy, dreamlike quality perfectly in keeping with the elements of subconsciousness implicit in the title.
(amg 9/10)

Rick Wright [1996] Broken China

[01] Breaking Water
[02] Night Of A Thousand Furry Toys
[03] Hidden Fear
[04] Runaway
[05] Unfair Ground
[06] Satellite
[07] Woman Of Custom
[08] Interlude
[09] Black Cloud
[10] Far From The Harbour Wall
[11] Drowning
[12] Reaching For The Rail
[13] Blue Room In Venice
[14] Sweet July
[15] Along The Shoreline
[16] Breakthrough



amg: This rather humdrum effort from Pink Floyd's keyboard player does have touches of his former band's haunting ambience, but the tracks on Broken China lazily skim along on shallow waves of new age-like synthesizer passages and lilting rhythms rather than engulf its concept of a man who is experiencing the repercussions of clinical depression, which is in itself Pink Floyd-like. The album is divided up into four sections, each representing a different stage of the character's mental illness. The idea is interesting enough and, while Wright's vocals are eerily reminiscent of Roger Waters, the concept fails to gain any momentum from one cycle to another. The music is dark...but too dark, and the lyrics are abstract...only they're too abstract. Wright gets too caught up in the complexities of his imagery, so much so that he fails to extend his concept outwardly in the form of music or message. Rather than jut out or take hold, the tracks all converge into each other with little or no rhythmic resurgence or elevation. "Reaching for the Rail" and "Breakthrough" are sung by Sinead O'Connor, one of the album's upsides, while oboe and cello add noticeable weight to the music's somberness in all the right places. Wright's first solo release, entitled Wet Dreams, is a much more entertaining effort, as is Zee-Identity, his 1984 collaboration with Dave Harris.
(amg 8/10)

Robbie Robertson [1987] Robbie Robertson

[01] Fallen Angel
[02] Showdown At Big Sky
[03] Broken Arrow
[04] Sweet Fire Of Love
[05] American Roulette
[06] Somewhere Down The Crazy River
[07] Hell's Half Acre
[08] Sonny Got Caught In The Moonlight
[09] Testimony



amg: Robbie Robertson was once asked why he waited 11 years after the breakup of the Band to release a solo project, and he replied, "I wasn't so sure I had something to say." One can hear a bit of this thinking in Robertson's self-titled solo debut; it's obvious that he didn't care to revisit the country- and blues-flavored roots rock that had been his bread and butter with the Band, and at the same time Robertson seemed determined to make an album that had something important to say, and could stand alongside his legendary earlier work. Looking for a moody and atmospheric sound, Robertson teamed up with producer Daniel Lanois, who had previously worked with U2 and Peter Gabriel, two artists whose work obviously influenced Robertson's musical thinking while he was making the album (they both appear on the album as well). As a result, Robbie Robertson is an album that represents both a clear break from his past, and an ambitious attempt to take his fascination with American culture and music in a new and contemporary direction. It's highly ambitious stuff, and the album's ambitions sometimes prove to be its Achilles' heel. Robertson's collaboration with U2, "Sweet Fire of Love," sounds like a rather unremarkable outtake from The Joshua Tree, with the group's aural bombast subsuming the ostensive leader of the session, while "Fallen Angel," "American Roulette," and "Somewhere Down the Crazy River" find Robertson exploring the same iconography of the Band's best work, but without the same grace or subtle wit. And it doesn't take long to realize why Robbie only took two lead vocals during his tenure with the Band; his dry, reedy voice isn't bad, but it lacks the force and authority to communicate the big themes Robertson wants to bring across. Despite all this, Robbie Robertson does have its share of pearly moments, especially on the bitter "Hell's Half Acre," "Sonny Got Caught in the Moonlight," and "Broken Arrow" (a performance more subtle and effective than Rod Stewart's better-known cover). Robbie Robertson isn't the masterpiece its creator was obviously striving towards, but it's an intelligent and often compelling set from an inarguably important artist, and it comes a good bit closer to capturing what made the Band's work so memorable than the latter-day efforts from Levon Helm and company.
(amg 8/10)

Rick Wright [1978] Wet Dream

[01] Mediterranean C
[02] Against The Odds
[03] Cat Cruise
[04] Summer Elegy
[05] Waves
[06] Holiday
[07] Mad Yannis Dance
[08] Drop In From The Top
[09] Pink's Song
[10] Funky Deux



amg: Following the release of the 1977 album Animals and its accompanying "In the Flesh" tour, Pink Floyd went on hiatus, having become popular enough to support solo albums by bandmembers who were inclined to make them. Guitarist David Gilmour and keyboard player Richard Wright were. For his album, Wright assembled some of the backing musicians who had been accompanying Pink Floyd for years, in particular reed player Mel Collins and guitarist Snowy White. So it was no surprise that the resulting record, Wet Dream, sounded like outtakes from Pink Floyd sessions. Wright's keyboards had always been a major element in the Pink Floyd sound, and his singing and songwriting had also been a big part of the group's music, despite the increasing domination of Roger Waters. On Wet Dream, he was interested in providing typically slow, contemplative, keyboard-based arrangements and singing (on about every other tune) in a becalmed, echoey voice of marital discord and escape. Wright's conflict with Waters shortly would lead to his being dismissed from Pink Floyd (and then, bizarrely, hired back as a sideman), and in a sense his release of Wet Dream could be seen as an attempt to step out on his own. But the material, while pleasant enough, seemed more like music he might have written to work on with Pink Floyd if he still had as much input into the group as he had had back around the time of Dark Side of the Moon, rather than like an independent solo statement. It was hard to imagine anyone but Pink Floyd fans wanting to listen to such an album, and as it turned out not even enough of them cared, since the album sold poorly.
(amg 6/10)

Robert Wyatt [1974] Theatre Royal Drury Lane

[01] Introduction By John Peel
[02] Dedicated To You But You Weren't Listening
[03] Memories
[04] Sea Song
[05] A Last Straw
[06] Little Red Riding Hood Hit The Road
[07] Alife
[08] Alifib
[09] Mind Of A Child
[10] Instant Pussy
[11] Signed Curtain
[12] Calyx
[13] Little Red Robin Hood Hit The Road
[14] I'm A Believer



amg: Recorded on September 8, 1974, this set features Robert Wyatt (post-accident) with a slew of mates, including Ivor Cutler! Introduced by John Peel and recorded by the BBC — only a little over half the concert survives — this is a wild, freewheeling document featuring Wyatt, Cutler, and Julie Tippetts on vocals; Dave Stewart and Tippetts on keyboards; alternate drummers Nick Mason and Laurie Allan; Hugh Hopper on bass; Fred Frith on guitar, violin, and viola; the late Mongezi Feza on trumpet; the late great Gary Windo on reeds; and guitarist Mike Oldfield. It's quite a lineup and an awesomely inspiring performance. Wyatt is in excellent form here, and the bandmembers, who are a bit ragged in places, are nonetheless tight and full of fire. From "Dedicated to You But You Weren't Listening" and "Memories" to "Alfie," "Instant Pussy," "Mind of a Child," and "Little Red Robin Hood Hit the Road," this set is alternately an early tribute recording to Wyatt and a fine get-together of friends from the Canterbury scene. Sonically, the recording is very present, though a bit overloaded in places, but the music more than compensates for this. All Wyatt fans will need this, as it is as close to an essential document of 1970s experimental/prog as one is likely to find.
(amg 8/10)

Robert Wyatt [1974] Rock Bottom

[01] Sea Song
[02] A Last Straw
[03] Little Red Riding Hood Hit The Road
[04] Alifib
[05] Alife
[06] Little Red Robin Hood Hit The Road



amg: Rock Bottom, recorded with a star-studded cast of Canterbury musicians, has been deservedly acclaimed as one of the finest art rock albums. Several forces surrounding Wyatt's life helped shape its outcome. First, it was recorded after the former Soft Machine drummer and singer fell out of a five-story window and broke his spine. Legend had it that the album was a chronicle of his stay in the hospital. Wyatt dispels this notion in the liner notes of the 1997 Thirsty Ear reissue of the album, as well as the book Wrong Movements: A Robert Wyatt History. Much of the material was composed prior to his accident in anticipation of rehearsals of a new lineup of Matching Mole. The writing was completed in the hospital, where Wyatt realized that he would now need to sing more, since he could no longer be solely the drummer. Many of Rock Bottom's songs are very personal and introspective love songs, since he would soon marry Alfreda Benge. Benge suggested to Wyatt that his music was too cluttered and needed more open spaces. Therefore, Robert Wyatt not only ploughed new ground in songwriting territory, but he presented the songs differently, taking time to allow songs like "Sea Song" and "Alifib" to develop slowly. Previous attempts at love songs, like "O Caroline," while earnest and wistful, were very literal and lyrically clumsy. Rock Bottom was Robert Wyatt's most focused and relaxed album up to its time of release. In 1974, it won the French Grand Prix Charles Cros Record of the Year Award. It is also considered an essential record in any comprehensive collection of psychedelic or progressive rock. Concurrently released was the first of his two singles to reach the British Top 40, "I'm a Believer."
(amg 9/10)