Judee Sill

Over the decades, much ink and electricity has been devoted to the question of "lost talents" in many spheres of endeavour, including music. One whose claim to this status has greater validity than most is the remarkable American singer-songwriter Judee Sill.

I had known the name Judee Sill for some years, largely as a by-product of my interest in the Californian music scene of the Seventies. However, it was only about four or five years ago that I discovered her compelling music, and the extraordinary and turbulent story of her life. The music instantly spoke to me, both because of its melodic inventiveness and its unusual and challenging themes. Her blend of influences was also untypical for musicians of her time.

Judee Sill was the first artist to be signed to Asylum Records, which was also the home for artists such as Jackson Browne, the Eagles, Joni Mitchell and Tom Waits. She released two albums in the early Seventies, both of which displayed enormous promise and potential. However, various factors led to her disappearance from the scene, and she passed away in 1979, aged just 35.

Her music occasionally exhibits superficial similarities with her contemporaries in the singer-songwriter milieu, such as Browne and Mitchell, but such comparisons grossly over-simplify matters. The lyrics were unlike most of what was around, in their tendency to address spiritual and religious topics, and to employ these things as metaphors. The scope of  her philosophical interests and her musical eclecticism helped to render her work unique and intriguing, and made a pleasant change from the ubiquitous standard navel-gazing of the era.

Her musical legacy may be relatively small in terms of volume of "product" released, but it is far from meagre in its sweep and emotional vibrancy. Apart from the two original studio albums, an album of later demos and other unreleased material ("Dreams Come True...") surfaced in 2005, and a collection of her BBC performances is also out there. Such is the depth and immersive vigour of her work that this canon more than satisfies.

The debut record "Judee Sill" (1971) contains some impressive and likeable songs, and there is an obvious confidence in both her vocal performances and the arrangements, when considering that this is a first attempt. Standout tracks include "Crayon Angels", "The Archetypal Man", "The Lamb Ran Away With The Crown", "Jesus Was A Cross Maker", "Lady-O" (also recorded by The Turtles), "My Man On Love" and "Lopin' Along Thru The Cosmos".

Occasionally hints of the "baroque" pop of The Beach Boys and others come to the fore, but these impulses are more likely attributable to her own varied musical background. Above all, this music is more dynamic and interesting than much of the earnest and stodgy "confessional" fare being produced by "troubadours" at that time.  In approach and ethos I also sense echoes of Laura Nyro's work, namely a self-sufficiency and a distinct and mature artistic vision. If anything, Judee's music is more "compact" and restrained than Laura's, but no less inspiring.

This first release is pleasing to the ear, the vocals are soothing and sometimes ethereal and the arrangements understated.  Strings appear here and there, and some horns are audible on "Enchanted Sky Machines".  By any standards, an assured, credible and enjoyable debut.

Judee Sill spread her wings somewhat on her sophomore offering, "Heart Food" (1973). The selection of songs is more diverse and experimental, and the "folk" element in the music has arguably decreased. Again, a horses-for-courses approach to instrumentation, with violin appearing on the country-tinged opener "There's A Rugged Road", and some pedal steel guitar here and there.

"The Kiss" is one of her best remembered compositions, although I personally prefer the live renditions which she performed at the BBC to this album version. Either way, it is a stirring and absorbing song, addressing weighty philosophical and mystical questions in a most poetic and diverting way.  Not a "pop song" as such, but "The Kiss" does contain some great "hooks".

Other notable songs on "Heart Food" are "Down Where The Valleys Are Low", with its infectious and sprightly melodies, and "Soldier Of The Heart", which possesses a confident and endearing vocal, and which swings noticeably.

"The Phoenix" is another quietly impressive number, its words seemingly examining a restless personal quest for contentment and equilibrium. The penultimate track, "The Donor" is unquestionably the most ambitious track on this record, clocking in at over eight minutes. A mood piece in some ways, and that word "baroque" must rear its head again. To me, it feels ascetic and measured rather than grandiose.

Despite the message being spread through the internet,and through the efforts of fans, my feeling is that Judee Sill has not quite reached the influence of certain other cult singer-songwriters, but it could still happen. Perhaps her music was too esoteric and ambitious to attain mainstream commercial success, but that in no way diminishes its value. She deserves to be recognized as an original and important talent, whose work still sounds fresh, vibrant and distinctive.

Listen to Judee Sill's music.  You'll be glad that you made the effort.

'Til I Die - The Beach Boys

When the music of Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys is discussed, it is invariably asserted that their most "cerebral" and important music was recorded around the time of "Pet Sounds", and in the period shortly thereafter (i.e. "Good Vibrations" the Smile Sessions and so forth).  However, the song "'Til I Die", included on the group's 1971 album "Surf's Up", may well represent the zenith, and the logical conclusion, of what Wilson had been aiming at since 1965 or thereabouts.

"'Til I Die" has nakedly existential lyrical content, and is ethereal to an almost otherworldly degree. I have heard it described as a mantra as much as a song, and I can see why. The inspiration apparently came to Brian Wilson during a night-time visit to the beach. At once, it conjures up the notion of the utter insignificance of each one of us in the grander scheme of things, hence the references to "a cork on the ocean", "a rock in a landslide" and "a leaf on a windy way", and it all ties in with the songwriter's other ruminations about loneliness and alienation.

It is quite pertinent that this track is regarded by many observers as Brian Wilson's last great song. It signifies almost a settlement or reconciliation of the territory which had been explored. Was this the end of the journey which had begun around the time of "California Girls"?  It is significant that this was purely a Brian creation. Input from, or collaboration with, other people would have tainted the purity of the emotions being expressed here.

The song can be interpreted as an expression of resignation, despondency or helplessness, but it can also be seen as a "coming to terms" with the realities of existence. This multi-levelled meaning is one of the things which makes "'Til I Die" so compelling.

Songs about spiritual or cosmic concerns run the risk of being trite or pretentious, but "'Til I Die" pretty much hits the spot. It does not outstay its welcome, having lyrical conciseness and a complementary rhythmic base. The complexity of the harmonies and the melodic nuances merit repeated listening.

It is well worth a listen even for non-Beach Boys fans, and for non-music fans for that matter.

Life's Soundtrack

Many of us, myself included, trace our existence via the music which we were listening to at various stages of our lives. This could either be a song which happened to be in the charts at a particular time, or tracks which for whatever reason have a certain resonance, reminding us of happy (or sad) times, or evoking our state of mind.

 

The first time that I can remember truly relating to songs, and seeing in them some semblance of inspiration or "meaning" was in my mid-to-late teens, when many different pressures and emotions conspire to give rise to a need to "belong", and find spiritual outlet, however imagined and superficial.

 

It makes me cringe now, but the first track which I, and my circle of friends, saw as a personal anthem, was "Livin' On A Prayer" by Bon Jovi. This may have just been escapism or peer pressure, and the blue collar romanticism in the lyrics now makes me nauseous. My social and economic situation bore very little relation to the characters depicted in the song. "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight" by Cutting Crew fulfilled a similar role, both at the time, and in retrospectively evoking a sense of time and place. This was clearly the naïve optimism of a confused seventeen or eighteen year old mind at work, although in some respects it was healthy that I was latching on to such harmless if shallow subject matter. It was preferable to existing in some vacuum.

From my late teens until my late twenties, my life fell into a torpor, and music served primarily as an agent to fill the void, but acting as a neutralizer, simply cancelling out a negative. I had by this time begun to explore the work of singer-songwriters such as Neil Young and Jackson Browne, but the impact of their lyrics was generally secondary in importance to the melodic invention and subtlety on display. I was looking to the sound to anaesthetize me, not the words or messages to inform me.

Of course, when one's outlook and circumstances alter, music which previously appeared relatively innocuous and distant can suddenly take on a major piquancy and relevance. This began to occur in my case about fifteen years ago. I often think that the more introspective songs of Jackson Browne (Farther On, Sky Blue and Black, Sleep's Dark And Silent Gate, The Pretender, Fountain of Sorrow, These Days) are speaking only to me, and that they could have been written to document the course of my life and my mental state over the past decade-and-a-half. I could say the same about a few of the compositions of Gene Clark. Once the seed is sown, and we are "convinced", it is difficult to dispel such notions, even when evidence to the contrary looms.

Is this just wishful thinking, and intellectual dishonesty, a desperate and misguided attempt to avoid dealing with one's demons (and confronting reality), by taking refuge in somebody else's sentiments and inner thoughts?

I make take a (retrospectively) jaundiced view of the musical preoccupations of my late teens and early adulthood, but in seeking to "intellectualize" and rationalise my latter-day inclinations, I may be subjecting myself once again to delusions, if of a different type this time.

Perhaps the "soundtrack" to our lives should concern itself less with finding "poignancy" and "meaning" in lyrics, and more with the sometimes overlooked  and unnoticed capacity of music (i.e. the sounds themselves) to sooth and uplift us spiritually. This path also entails less anguish and pretence than the other approach....

 

Hold Out - Jackson Browne - album review

Continuing my exploration of the albums of Jackson Browne, we come now to the great man's 1980 release, Hold Out, the only album of his to top the American Billboard charts.

Coming after the "experimental" and idiosyncratic Running On Empty, this record is a more conventional and slick mainstream singer-songwriter rock album, and in some respects it picks up where 1976's The Pretender left off, serving as the far side of the hinge of Browne's career.

When I first listened to Hold Out, my reaction was that it sounded a touch soulless, like much "album rock" of that time. However, I soon realized that my assessment was flawed. It had only seemed relatively soulless, because I had heard it back-to-back with Jackson's classic "organic" sounding music from the 1970s. Closer inspection revealed hidden depths, and it remains to me one of his unfairly overlooked works, although it contains only seven songs!

Although Hold Out is deceptively meritorious in a purely musical sense, there is a case for arguing that lyrically some water-treading is in evidence. If anything, the subject matter is, by and large, less weighty and profound than on his previous LPs. Any social commentary is very mild, and is confined to "Disco Apocalypse" and "Boulevard". That said, the "personal" lyrics on a couple of the compositions are very moving and affecting.

Instrumentally, the accent is very much on keyboards, with little in the way of acoustic guitar work to be had. Thankfully, the subtle and soothing tones of David Lindley's lap steel feature prominently on several numbers. Also, acoustic piano survives, and the layers of keyboards give genuine texture to a few of the tracks, with the assistance Hammond organ. Any synthesizer work is very unobtrusive, and is employed primarily to accentuate melody and atmosphere.

The opening track on the album is "Disco Apocalypse", a dark and atmospheric song suffused with the aforementioned keyboards, in this case organ and electric piano.  The title track follows, with an expressive Browne vocal, and a bland if endearing melody, and the first appearance here of the Lindley alchemy on lap steel.

The production on this album has a glossy feel, which is not unusual for the early eighties, but I would contend that this does not suffocate the emotion, nuance and melody of the set. The separation between instruments is pronounced, and this is exemplified by "That Girl Could Sing".

"Boulevard" is the nearest thing on the album to a catchy, up-tempo commercial song, with an energetic "new wave" blue-collar flavour, the sort of track which would become a staple of American mainstream rock in the years which followed. It is often forgotten how much Jackson Browne pioneered this particular "sub-genre", at least in sonic terms.

Without doubt the most emotionally charged song is "Of Missing Persons", written largely in tribute to Jackson's friend, the late Lowell George of Little Feat.  The song is dominated by the vocal, seized with sincerity and sadness, and the poetic Lindley lap steel work.

"Let's Call It A Loan" then offers some light relief, preparing for the epic closer, "Hold On Hold Out", which almost has a suite-like quality, and the most grandiose arrangement on the whole album. The full range of keyboards is deployed, and the slide guitar again comes to the fore.

Hold Out often gets lost, as it falls between Browne's critically acclaimed early work and his more socially conscious albums of the 1980s.  However, it is worthy of respect, being an entertaining and superbly crafted record.

White Light - Gene Clark - album review

When Gene Clark's solo albums are evaluated, his 1974 magnum opus No Other is regularly cited as some kind of high point, if nothing else because it is regarded as a concept album of sorts, and because it symbolises something crucial about the period during which it was recorded.  However, after giving it due attention, I would venture to suggest that his 1971 work White Light deserves to be awarded similar acclaim, if for differing reasons.

White Light does not have any particular sonic or philosophical thread running through it, but song-for-song it is consistently superb, and proved a revelation to me, even within the context of Gene's formidable repertoire. The songs are recorded and captured in glorious clarity and freshness, allowing the vocals and acoustic guitars in particular to stand out.  There is none of the outlandishness or semi- superfluous packaging to be found on  No Other.

On occasion, I have heard people remark that some of Gene's acoustic numbers are "samey".  This is a very debatable point in itself, but they are invariably so compelling, engrossing and beautiful that such notions hardly seem to matter anyway.  There is a power and finesse about his voice and the melodies; indeed so much so that it is sometimes quite easy to overlook the lyrics...

Don't get the impression that this album is standard, "meat and potatoes" country-rock or folk troubadour fare.  Many of these songs are infused with a certain soulfulness, which is also characteristic of much of Gene Clark's other work. Care is taken with the arrangements, in order to ensure that there is some variety and colour to augment the tunefulness.

One of the notable virtues of White Light is the consistent excellence of the songs.  There was genuinely not a weak song on the originally released LP, and this means that the listener's attention is held throughout.

Uniformly strong the album may be, but there are some tracks which do stand out.  The opener, "The Virgin" is distinctive in its flavour and ambience. 

"For A Spanish Guitar" may be the the most famous song on the album, and is memorable for its tempo and intricate guitar parts.

"One In A Hundred" has a superb melody and touching lyrics, although many will prefer the more "Byrdsian" rendering which was recorded at a later date. 

"Because Of You" sounds deceptively simple at first, but it has a real charm and warmth about it, accentuated by the subtle organ part.

"Where My Love Lies Asleep" is another lovely tune, carrying some echoes of the Rolling Stones' "No Expectations", with its pleasing slide guitar flourishes.

Gene Clark made lots of wonderful music both before and after White Light, but there is reason to think that much of the continuing affection, admiration and esteem in which Gene and his music are held stems from this great, and under-rated, record.

Laura Nyro

My interest in the singer-songwriter movement of the late 1960s and 1970s had brought me into contact with the name Laura Nyro.  I was aware that she was considered influential, that her songs had been covered by a wide diversity of artists, and that she had sadly died in 1997.  However, until very recently I had not delved into her own musical body of work, and doing this has proved a revelation to say the least.

Before, I had browsed cursorily through a couple of greatest hits compilations, and I had developed a fondness for a few of her best-known songs, in particular "Wedding Bell Blues".  I imagined that her solo recordings from the early days would be something of a "songbook", with perfunctory versions of the songs covered by various luminaries.  How ignorant and mistaken I was!  I had greatly under-estimated the sheer beauty of Laura's music, and the quality of her voice. It also turns out that some of her most famous compositions are not necessarily representative of her catalogue overall.  Those first three or four albums in particular are all credible and coherent works by themselves.

The first album, later re-issued as "The First Songs", offers a rich harvest of melodies and memorable and affecting songs.  The most astounding thing about that debut is just how fresh and timeless it sounds, well over four decades since it was recorded.  Let's face, much of the music from that era has not aged very well, but these songs of Laura's sound as if they could have been recorded yesterday.  I was also struck by the richness of the chord changes, and the all-around crispness.

Among many highlights on the first LP is "Goodbye Joe", a song which for me embodies everything which makes great pop music so wonderful.  Effortlessly melodic, evocative but immediate lyrics and a jauntiness, vibrancy and energy which are like honey to the ears.  Contrast this number with the haunting "Billy's Blues", "I Never Meant to Hurt You" and "Buy and Sell"...

Another thing which I was previously unaware of was the purity and versatility of Laura's voice.  Sometimes such angelic voices can appear anodyne at times, but hers managed to combine all of this with expressiveness and individuality.  Spontanetity, variety and inventiveness of phrasing were also hallmarks.

Not content to rest on her laurels, later albums were more experimental and ambitious. Certainly "Eli and the Thirteenth Confession" is less commercial and instantly "likeable" than its predecessor, and contains more hard-edged material.  That said, it contains many memorable compositions, and it can be argued that the lyrical subject matter is more varied and interesting.  "Christmas and the Beads of Sweat" in some respects represents a return to the feel of, and the territory explored by, the debut, at least melodically and sonically, although the songs were longer and more complex.

Listening to those early albums in particular, one can hear a multiplicity of influences, including jazz, Motown and soul, but the finished article is never less than original and cleverly and sympathetically produced.  I have heard Laura described as the "missing link" between Brill Building pop and the then nascent singer-songwriter movement.  There may be an element of truth in this, although it is likely an over-simplification.

Although's Laura Nyro's own records did not sell in the multi-millions, it is clear how influential her work has been, especially for female artists, and how much respect she commanded amongst her peers. I have also been heartened to discover that the music still has many devoted fans.  These songs and recordings deserve an ever wider audience.  I am endeavouring to spread the word here in England!

I defy anyone who enjoys good music not to be enthused and touched by that first album, and what followed....