Random Record Reviews: Volume 6

1970s California Rock (and its modern apotheosis):

It’s been a while since I did a Random Record Review. I’ve been reading Barney Hoskyns’s Hotel California, which concerns the ‘70s California rock scene, and it got me listening to that era of music. Actually I think it was the other way around – I think I was already listening to such music, then decided to read Hoskyns’s book. 

1. William Truckaway: Breakaway 

Reprise, 1971 

William Truckaway, previously known as William Sievers, was a member of obscure San Francisco psychedelic rock group Sopwith Camel. This was his one and only solo LP, pretty much the epitome of country-tinged Californian hippie rock. I mean look at that dude’s dirty feet on the cover! Wash your friggin’ feet, hippie! Truckaway has a pleasantly mellow voice and in some ways Breakaway is like a proto-Beck album, especially in its usage of unusual instruments and blue-eyed funk. A lof of it is in the country-rock vibe of the time, but not too grating, with the occasional dobro and/or harmonica augmenting Truckaway’s slacker-esque lyrics; or we will get something as unusual as a sitar, like on the hummable ditty “I Go Slow,” which comes off like a slacker anthem two decades early. Moogs will just as often appear, most notably in the shoulda-been-a-huge-hit “Bluegreens.” Originally released as a single in 1969, when it had been titled “Bluegreens On The Wing,” this track basically encapsulates the vibe of summer. The LP version is slightly different from the earlier single mix, a bit more refined and polished. Previously this LP version wasn’t online – until now! Here it is, playing on my Pioneer PL-518: 

2. Warehouse Sound Co. & Friends: Warehouse Sound Co. & Friends 

Warehouse Sound Co., 1974 

I discovered this obscure LP a few years ago, while researching any appearances of Dr. Patrick Gleeson, an early synth player I knew from Herbie Hancock’s Sextant. This led me to the discovery of this LP, and thanks to a Youtube upload I heard the multi-suite song “Medicine Wheel,” which had been taken from the album. A very cool song that opens with some Gleeson synth experimentation before morphing into a mellow stoned acoustic number, courtesy someone named David Riordan (more on whom anon). Warehouse Sound Co. was an audio store in Los Angeles and here they released their own record that would come with stereos purchased in their store, or somesuch. This is a professionally-packaged product, though, and I wonder if Capitol Records was involved in some fashion. A nice touch is that the cover also feels like wood, matching the photo. 

Other than the “Medicine Wheel” suite, I could find nothing from this album uploaded online, and there was no digital release. Luckily, copies are inexpensive. It turns out the album is more on a soft rock tip than the “Medicine Wheel” suite would imply. It’s also a short record, under 30 minutes, with 4 songs per side. It sounds great, though, and is well mastered. The featured performer is a person named David Riordan, previously in an L.A. band called Sweet Pain, here doing more of a singer-songwriter thing with a bunch of studio musicians, people who worked at Warehouse Sound, and also Gleeson. Other than “Medicine Wheel,” the song that I really like here – and again one that sounds dissimilar from the other pleasant-toned songs on the album – is a number called “Lady Grace.” It too features Gleeson’s synths. Since there was no other version online, I once again lazily recorded my copy as it played on my turntable: 

3. David Riordan, Medicine Wheel 

Capitol, 1974 

After I’d played Warehouse Sound Co. & Friends a few times I decided to look up this David Riordan guy. I saw that, the same year that other record came out, Riordan also released a solo album on Capitol – and also this was his one and only solo LP. Most interestingly, a lot of tracks on Medicine Wheel, like for example the title track, were the same as those that appeared on Warehouse Sound Co. & Friends. But were they the same versions? Or had Riordan re-recorded them with different studio musicians? I also saw that Patrick Gleeson was credited on the solo LP, so my curiousity was very piqued. But absolutely nothing from Medicine Wheel was on Youtube or anywhere else online, so to find the answers to my questions I would have to buy the record itself. Luckily, copies are inexpensive; I got mine for a little over two bucks. 

It turns out that the versions of the songs on Medicine Wheel are indeed different than the ones on Warehouse Sound Co. & Friends. And in most cases the versions here on this solo LP are superior. Not all of the songs are repeats, though, and some tracks from that other album don’t appear here, like for example the aforementioned “Lady Grace.” Also, title track “Medicine Wheel” drops the suite format of the Warehouse Sound Co. & Friends version, losing the experimental intro but at the same time becoming even more dreamy, thanks to additional instrumentation and effects in the mix. Overall this album too goes for a pleasant, bouncy, summery type of soft rock, most of the tracks being upbeat and happy. The only anomaly would be the title track, which comes off like the epitome of that early-to-mid-‘70s Laurel Canyon “I just lit a fat joint and I’m gonna sit here and watch the sun go down and ponder the cosmos” Californian singer-songwriter vibe. Since it’s not on Youtube, I made a video of it myself: 

4. Various Artists: Elektra/Asylum Fall 1974 Releases 

Elektra/Asylum, 1974 

This promo-only compilation LP comes off like the soundtrack to Barney Hoskyns’s Hotel California, given that book’s focus on the Elektra and Asylum rosters. However, I got this LP due to the fact that it features the title track of Gene Clark’s 1974 big-budget bomb No Other; so far as I know, other than the overpriced original pressing, this is the only place you can get a song from No Other on a contemporary vinyl release. Like Skip Spence’s Oar, No Other was rediscovered by the hipsters of the ‘90s and the prices of the original pressing skyrocketed accordingly. Even modern represses are pricey. I’ve never bothered getting any of the pressings, though, happy with the CD I bought many years ago, because No Other isn’t an album I play frequently at all. Too much of it is country-focused; too little of it is the blown-out mid-‘70s madness I want. A notable exception is the title track, which appears here…but this version is an edit. The LP version of “No Other” runs over 6 minutes, this one’s not even 4 minutes. I’m uncertain if it’s the same mix as on the UK-only single release of “No Other.” Once again I had to resort to recording my own copy, as there was no other Youtube upload: 

Note that this is the last song on a very long side. Fall 1974 Releases will not win any audiophile rewards, as the music has been crammed on here; each side is 30 minutes long. The more information that’s jammed into vinyl the more fidelity is lost; it’s my understanding the bass is the first to go. However as you’ll note, it actually sounds pretty good! And I’m using my new cartridge here, an Audio Technica AT-VM95C, which is a conical – aka the “lowest” level of stylii, so far as price and precision of cut goes. But man, this thing sounds phenomenal, even better than the thrice-the-price Nagaoka MP-110 I was previously using. Anyway, enough geekery. Otherwise this compilation focuses on country-rock (side 1 in particular), with singer-songerwriters like Joni Mitchell and Jackson Browne appearing. Side 2 gets more into a rock focus, with Jo Jo Gunne and Traffic. A track here that made me stand up and take notice was the new-to-me Dennis Linde, with the title track of his ’74 album Trapped In The Suburbs. That one immediately had me hitting Discogs for a copy – and, like the David Riordan solo LP, a copy was available for practically nothing. I’ll review that one someday as well. 

5. Jonathan Wilson: Fanfare 

Bella Union, 2013 

I’m gonna try to keep this one brief. I’ll just say, if you love ‘70s rock in general and ‘70s California rock in particular, GET THIS ALBUM. And if you’re in the US, get the vinyl release from K-F Merch. They are selling the pink vinyl UK release that comes with a CD (it’s hidden in the sleeve with the second vinyl disc), and their copy is very affordable; currently no sellers in the US have Fanfare on vinyl on Discogs. I first learned about Jonathan Wilson a few years ago, on the Steve Hoffman music forums. Soon after I listened to Fanfare, Wilson’s tribute to big-budget ‘70s rock, on streaming, and I thought it was good, but I didn’t really focus on it, and soon moved on to other things. Through happenstance I rediscovered the album recently and the damn thing knocked me out. It was like I wasn’t ready for it before. Now I’m prepared to rank Fanfare in my top five favorite records of all time, if not higher. And folks if you know anything about me, you know I prefer vintage stuff. I mean I practically live in the past. I never thought I’d be declaring the merits of something released just ten years ago. 

I recently went on a Jonathan Wilson obsession and here’s what I can tell you. He’s my age; actually he’s two months younger than me, as he was born in December of 1974. He grew up in a small town and grew up with a love of ‘60s and ‘70s rock. He must have learned to play instruments at a young age; he's a guitar wiz now, and surely would be known as one of the giants of the day had he been around in the era he so wonderfully recreates on his albums.  He plays tons of other instruments besides, and also has vast experience in producing music.  He even uses vintage equipment in his personal studio, as lovably described in this comprehensive overview. Wilson was in a late ‘90s alternative band I hadn’t heard of (Muscadine), then after that fell apart he moved on to session work and served as guitarist in the touring groups of several musicians. 

Wilson initially struck off on his solo career with Frankie Ray, an Oar-type ode to ‘70s rock in that, like Skip Spence, Wilson not only did vocals but played every instrument, multi-tracking himself like some decades-removed version of Emmit Rhodes. This was in 2005, but the album was never officially released – and it’s still crying out for a proper release, especially on vinyl. It’s out on Youtube, though. A few years later Wilson released Gentle Spirit, often mistakenly referred to as his “first album” and almost universally described as “Pink Floyd jamming with Crosby, Stills, and Nash.” 

From the success of that album Wilson moved on to Fanfare, which was to be his tribute to “widescreen, blown out,” mid-‘70s epics like…well, like No Other. It really comes off like the album Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young never made in the mid-1970s. Maybe with walk-ons from Dennis Wilson of the Beach Boys (no relation to Jonathan Wilson) and Pink Floyd. But hell, the album itself has walk-ons from those actual musicians: David Crosby and Graham Nash appear, as does Jackson Browne, among others. Fanfare is really the distillation of that entire ‘70s rock sound, head music in its truest sense, mixing the airy harmonies of CSN, the ragged rock of Neil Young, the aural vibe of Dennis Wilson’s Pacific Ocean Blue, the “I live in the studio” ambiance of Electric Ladyland. It is just about as perfect a rock album as one could want, and it’s incredible that Wilson has released, in today’s age, such a big-budget rock album that demands you put on the headphones, turn off the lights, and give the music your full attention. Perhaps that’s why the first impression didn’t resonate with me. 

For this is not a “first impressions album” by any means. We all know “deep cuts,” those tracks buried on albums of yore that weren’t hits but went on to be loved by the fans; usually they were longer than standard single length, and would go through a few changes within the course of the song. Essentially Fanfare is an album of deep cuts. It’s debatable whether an LP like this would have been released in the actual 1970s; the label would have demanded more “hits.” That said, there are songs on here that are at odds with the “deep cuts” vibe, and almost come off like the “potential hit” the label might have demanded; Side 2 opener “Love To Love,” a Southern-tinged rocker in the Allman Brothers vein, would be one example. 

But man, on a performance level – instrumentation, singing, production – this album rocks. And it is a dense record, too, each track layered with instruments and period effects.  There’s even a friggin mellotron on a few tracks...that’s how “1970s” Fanfare is!  Wilson’s singing voice somewhat sounds like Dennis Coulson, of the unjustly-obcsure 1972 album Lo And Behold, mixed with a bit of a Stephen Stills rasp. In fact, other reviewers have noted that Jonathan Wilson’s voice seems to combine all three of CSN into one; this is especially notable in standout track “Cecil Taylor,” with Wilson serving as the Stills to the actual Crosby and Nash; it sounds like a lost CSN number, complete with the touch of spaciness CSN often brought to their songs: 

Opening title track “Fanfare” is also like a lost track…from Dennis Wilson’s 1977 masterpiece Pacific Ocean Blue. It actually sounds more like POB than any of the songs that appeared on the actual Dennis Wilson’s follow-up album Bambu (which by the way was never completed by Wilson). “Dear Friend” is where the Electric Ladyland vibe comes in; it starts off like a dreamy psychedelic number before turning into a heavy in-the-studio jam where Wilson smokes on wah-wah guitar. Good grief! How in the world is someone able to make rock music like this in today’s age? 

Fanfare is filled with songs that start off in one direction before going in another entirely. “Future Vision,” for example, initially comes off like John Lennon's early '70s solo work, with Wilson’s echoed voice singing of “The sweet caprice of love” over a Steinway Grand Piano, before morphing into something out of the Bob Welch era of Fleetwood Mac. There’s also a hidden reference, melody-wise, to John Lennon’s “#9 Dream” at the two-minute mark. There are such knowing winks to classic rock throughout; heavy number “Illumination,” another of those tracks where Wilson plays every instrument, starts off like a cover of Neil Young’s “Dangerbird” (but maybe with Tom Petty’s The Heartbreakers backing Young instead of Crazy Horse), then veers course into its own thing. “Moses Pain” starts off like Bob Dylan and ends as an anthemic singalong; it wouldn’t have sounded out of place on the aforementioned Lo And Behold. All of the songs were written by Jonathan Wilson, save for “New Mexico,” in which the music was written by Wilson but the lyrics by Roy Harper, and the psychedellically funky “Fazon,” which is a cover of a tune by Sopwith Camel…aka the band that William Truckaway was in, thus bringing this Random Record Review full circle. 

One thing I didn’t want to do was describe every track, so I’ll cut it off here. (And please don’t assume the tracks I haven’t mentioned aren’t as great as the others!)  Essentially, Fanfare was created by someone who grew up on rock for people who grew up on rock. In olden times troubadors were performers who would carry on traditions, augmenting here and there but basically sticking to a template through the centuries. This has been lost in today’s era, in which progressivism is key – it’s always about what is new, what breaks tradition. In that regard Fanfare might be disregarded as an overly slavish attempt at mimicking the sound of an earlier time. But that would be a mistake. This album is more rewarding than most any other I can think of, certainly any other modern album. It truly deserves to be put in the pantheon of rock classics; it’s not Jonathan Wilson’s fault that he was born after the rock era ended. 

And you want Fanfare on vinyl! Now one thing I have to get out of the way is that the vinyl release is actually missing a track: “All The Way Down,” which is on the CD and streaming releases, does not appear on the vinyl release. This is a long LP; the average song length is over 5 minutes. Thus Bella Union has split it up to a double-vinyl release with 3 tracks per side, totalling 12 tracks. Unfortunately then, unlucky 13th track “All The Way Down” didn’t make the cut. But this is fine, really; if I had to cut one track from Fanfare, that would be it. Not that it’s bad. It’s just relatively unecessary after the epic, Abbey Road-esque “Lovestrong” (which features an actual Heartbreaker, pianist Benmont Trench). This means “Lovestrong” is the final track of the vinyl release, and I think that works out better. In my world “All The Way Down” would be a bonus track, maybe the B-side of the single if we’re sticking to the fantasy that Fanfare really is a product of the 1970s. 

Now about this vinyl pressing. It’s pretty great! It’s on super thick pink vinyl; I’m guessing it’s 180 gram. The gatefold release looks great, with the Sistine Chapel cover and a psychedelic photo of Jonathan Wilson on back. The inner gatefold is an artsy photo of some topless masked women who initially look nice…until you see their hairy armpits. Sorry, not my thing! The sleeves are thick, too; you really have to fight to get the records out. I actually put the sleeves aside and replaced them with standard ones. The pressing is not analog, certainly; like most modern records, the Fanfare vinyl release is digitally sourced. As Wilson explains in the feature I linked to above, while the album was mostly recorded analog, in the final stage of the “chain” it went to digital. This is fine…I mean the record sounds good, and certainly better than the digital release (that said, the CD sounds good, too, pressed with more care to fidelity than to winning the “loudness wars”). The most important note is that I heard things on the vinyl release I hadn’t noticed in the digital release; little details that weren’t as apparent in the digital releases. This is always one of the best things about vinyl. And it looks great, too; here’s the pink vinyl spinning on my turntable: