Bryter Layter - Nick Drake

Track list:

1. Introduction
2. Hazey Jane II
3. At the Chime of a City Clock
4. One of These Things First
5. Hazey Jane I
6. Bryter Layter
7. Fly
8. Poor Boy
9. Northern Sky
10. Sunday

Running time: 39 minutes
Released: 1971

From one white boy with a guitar to another - but there I think the similarities start dying out. I waver on which of Nick Drake's material I like best - though reading down the track list I see three particular favourites. I actually listened to this a couple of days ago, whilst preparing the house to have 5 friends round all day, because I'd been wanting to sit and listen since I saw it was up next. This time, I'm here and can write.

The Introduction is a pleasant guitar melody and a swell of strings. The thing about this Drake album in particular is the arrangements, the depth beyond his guitar. They are lush, peaceful and serene - far from the stereotype of dark and troubled songs with a lone guitar flickering alone. I always found it odd when part II of a song appeared before part I - as with Hazey Jane here. I have always adored the roll of II; I don't think its his best track, but there is a nice lilt to it, a thrum in the guitar lead, and a buzz in the horns. It is a nice, breezy number and plenty accessible. Drake has one of those timeless voices; because he died so young he is remembered young, pictured young, heard young. That youth, to me, is epitomised by the vocal here feeling fresh, still, some 45 years on.

I love the use of strings here. The arrangements are simply superb, and the sax that offsets Drake's voice on At the Chime of a City Clock is weighted nicely too. I'm not a huge fan of the wandering saxophone like this, but it is judged well for the most part. One of These Things First has always been a favourite and its the piano line that makes it so. The guitar wanders and provides the lower end, but its when the piano hits the high notes that I smile the most. Listening closely, I find the drums a little too prevalent for what is a rather staid rhythm, but that really is quibbling. A little further from the speaker, or a little less concentration and they would fade back into the wider arrangement.

It's impossible to sit and ruminate on Nick Drake and his music without coming back to the tragedy of his death, the sheer popularity of his music in recent years and the complete obscurity at the time. It's a well trodden path, written about with more care, knowledge and aplomb than I could muster. What astounds me is the idea that something this easy paced, beautifully arranged and accessible could have bombed. I got into Nick Drake at university. I hadn't heard of him at all before then, but a friend had all of the studio albums and I picked them up not long after he introduced me. I am guilty of not returning to them often enough; this listen is proving that. The title track is an instrumental which surprises me - I don't remember enough of the less famous tracks; Bryter Later, Fly, Sunday... all had no imprint in my mind before this unlike, say, Northern Sky - which has been flying round my head for about 3 days now.

Fly is, actually, not that nice. Certainly it is a big step down from what has been before. The intimacy of the vocal is different, and the playing supporting Drake feels less apt, despite being provided by two well known musicians in their own right (and the same pair that support Northern Sky, to come). I think its the vocal recording that makes this feel weird. Oh well - a step down from lofty heights still leaves plenty to enjoy. Poor Boy is one of those songs I don't recognise from the name, but I do from the sound. The backing singers, the sax part, the piano... it comes together nicely, and again has a gentle roll to it. Its a long track, and I found myself staring into space for most of it, ears loosely tracing the patterns of the tune, dimly aware of its progress. I snap back into focus for the beginning of Northern Sky which really is the most beautiful track... There is a haunting element to the vocal here, offsetting a truly glorious melody - largely provided by the piano, but the construction of the bass part is crucial too. If you only listen to one Nick Drake song... make it this one. I am not convinced it is my favourite (I have a very soft spot for Place to Be from Pink Moon as my gateway), but it is, I think possibly his best.

Sunday is positively ghastly by comparison, which is to say that it is a perfectly serviceable instrumental lead out. In another context it would be a very enjoyable little tune, but it feels like such a climb down here - even at its zenith. I find it appearing to go on forever (it is under 4 minutes); it just feels like the album ended already. Now that it has, I think I need to repeat Northern Sky one more time...

Blue - Joni Mitchell

Track list:

1. All I Want
2. My Old Man
3. Little Green
4. Carey
5. Blue
6. California
7. This Flight Tonight
8. River
9. A Case of You
10. The Last Time I Saw Richard

Running time: 36 minutes
Released: 1971

So I move from one classic to another; different genre, but same level of distance between me and the disc. However Windows Media Player must be the only entity in the world that would think that "Blue" should be listed after "Blue [X]" when sorting alphabetically. At least, I hope so because man, that makes no sense to me.

This album is a classic example of something I own because I thought I should own it, though that said it is not the only Mitchell album I have so I guess I thought something of it... time to find out whether I still do or not.

The jangling nature of the tightly stretched guitar on All I Want is a bit too bright for my morning mood, and Mitchell's wandering voice has a bit of a sharp edge to it when it goes into the higher registers, but despite these little grievances there is something essential about the way they combine. The minimalist approach can fall down pretty easily but here it seems to add gravity and weight to what is a somewhat flighty tune. I don't know whether this is confirmation bias or something else, but it seems to share that virtue of accessibility with Blue Train. Folk - especially 70s folk - had a bit of a retrospective reputation for disappearing from relevance, though I guess being '71 this probably predates that slide from the public consciousness.

I doubt that we will see much like this again somehow - the high floaty voice and a simple piano melody on My Old Man sounds like the sort of thing that would be rejected out of hand by modern music for being uncomplicated. Perhaps the stripped down sound will come back round - people do still try it and largely fail, after all - but here it seems to be nailed on. This doesn't disappear or shrink in the way I often find such noodly little numbers doing. The strong timbre to the guitar helps - it's not soft and receding and sucking the vocal down the black hole of anti-sound. The edge to her voice, similarly, guards against the shrinking violet syndrome. The sense is of a woman standing proudly in the spotlight, rather than a performer lurking in the half-light on the edge of the beam, which is how I see a lot of similar attempts. There is a natural confidence that comes through.

Switching tack a second, I am surprised given the title and indeed the rather morose-looking Joni in the cover image, that the first four tracks here are all relatively bright and joyful. I came into this expecting a sombre affair and I don't find myself mired in despair at all. The title track has a mournful air to it, but even then the piano melody and the style of the vocal delivery work to ameliorate the sadness some. There is real warmth in those keys even as the melody they create is tinged with regret, and with the exception of the highest, most warbly notes, the same could be said for Mitchell's voice. I find her singing hard to love. Those strayings into the upper limits of her range have the effect of nails down a chalk board in the middle of a fascinating lesson - little moments of excruciating discomfort peppered through songs and tunes that otherwise I really enjoy and engage with. I can completely see why this is a classic, even as I cringe from the slide effects on California - too many bad associations with 80s movies.

The higher pace and lower rumble of This Flight Tonight is a welcome change-up. I am reminded of some John Darnielle-penned numbers. I really didn't expect to connect Mitchell to The Mountain Goats here, but the aesthetic, including the tinny edge to some of the recorded elements is really a very good fit, even if the vocal approaches are chalk and cheese. Huh, two mentions of chalk in the same post. It being December, the similarities between River and Jingle Bells in the opening bars of piano are obvious for the first time, and with the month referenced in the lyric it is clearly a deliberate choice that somehow works. As an aside I bloody hate Christmas music - anything I can do to avoid it, I will. Beyond that I find this to be the least interesting of the songs I have heard this morning. Whilst the piano melody is nice, the song itself is dull and does not seem to come with the same sense of self-assurance that I would use to characterise the prior performances. In other words it trips around the edge of the pit of disappearance.

That makes no sense outside the context of this post, and even within it's a stretch. Ah well. Case of You is a very recognisable chorus, but the verses always seem to fade from my memory. The song is slower than I would have thought just from the recalled chorus, and a little plodding if I am honest. The same tune, the same words, with a little more pace. I suspect that might break it, actually, but it feels like something is missing and my first instinct is that it is an urgency that a higher tempo might address. What do I Snow.

As the last tune picks up, I find myself having reconnected with this. Whilst I may have bought it because I felt I should have (or at least hear) it, it now stays because it is every bit the masterful work that it was talked up as. I can certainly see why I went on to buy more Joni Mitchell records, despite her work all predating my life. I would never put this up as a favourite, or something that I am likely to listen to often. Alas, the modern mode of musical consumption probably renders most of these tunes pretty inaccessible. Something like Blue works far better in its original form - appreciated in flow and as a whole. That alone means it will probably quickly return to "forgotten" status, but does not provide a driver to exclude it from my collection. If anything, this instead suggests to me that the way we (or at least I) tend to consume music today is detrimental to our appreciation of some forms. I suspect I am far from alone in having most things be a shuffle of some kind now, and albums like this make me wonder what I may be missing as a result.

Beyond the Blue Horizon - George Benson

Track list:

1. So What
2. The Gentle Rain
3. All Clear
4. Ode To A Kudu
5. Somewhere In The East
6. All Clear (Alternate Take)
7. Ode To A Kudu (Alternate Take)
8. Somewhere In The East (Alternate Take)

Running time: 54 minutes
Released: 1971

What to say about this one? Well, it was part of the big box of 25 classic jazz albums that already spawned one of the first few posts on these pages.

For some reason I have long laboured under the misconception that George Benson played Matt 'Guitar' Murphy in The Blues Brothers (soundtrack listen here) but, true to form with the other band members in that film, that was... Matt Murphy. I don't, therefore, have any real frame of reference for Benson, so the introduction on this boils down to: almost an hour long in runtime, but actually only half that because of the repetition. First impressions, therefore, aren't that positive. Lets see what actual exposure makes of it.

We start, surprisingly with a bass/drums combo that reminds me of something specific that is on the tips of my fingers but not coming to mind; doh! Look at the track name. I was expecting it to be all straight in with the guitar lead. That takes a bit longer to show up, and arguably is secondary to the structure and even the melody provided by some form of organ for the first couple of minutes.  Frankly this is a really poor rendition of So What, but then anything would be. Miles Davis' piece is a masterwork; Benson's interpretation is a mugging. The majesty of the piece simply goes missing without the understatement of the original arrangement. The soft, perfectly timed interjections. None of that is present here and whilst the strains of the tune come through here and there the overall effect is more muddled and seems to prioritise the wrong things at the wrong time. The classic call/response is murdered by moving it to a fast pinging guitar and a harsh organ blast and the rest just fails to ignite. When if fades out after 9 minutes I am still shaking my head as to how that can happen.

We move onto the only other track that is on this album once. The Gentle Rain is also 9 minutes long, quite possibly also a cover, but at least is not a destruction of something I am familiar with. Its light twangy guitar and faux-tropical rhythms are pretty much a perfect encapsulation of a certain type of cheese and at least this feels like it fits together right. The guitar really is the star here, everything else fitting around it. Alas the mediocre swing and stereotyped approach wear thin before the track is half done, the constancy of the bongos boring its way into my brain in most unwelcome fashion. At least a keyboard comes along to rival the primacy of the guitar but it is all in the same vein and I think this sort of thing was out of style when it first arrived. I wonder to what extent this will be typical of the three repeated tracks; I suspect quite a large one.

I would go so far as to suggest that tracks like this are probably part of the reason that jazz was seriously uncool by the time I was born (the other part being the bonkers interpretation that all jazz is completely improvised atonal sonic mess). Its just so... uninspiring.

All Clear is a little brighter in sound but still unmistakably from the same school. There are no bongos (thank heavens!) and the percussion is less bad cruise movie music as a result, but in their place we have a cheese-laden organ part and some weird applications of strings or other backing sounds. I think these are employed with a similar effect - if not in mind, then in achievement. The whole desert island poolside cocktail bar image, crappy fake floral necklaces and bad Hawaiian shirts. I cannot take this seriously at all, and cannot enjoy it. The guitar is the epitome of playing with itself; and I have to listen to this track again?

I am seriously tempted to stop the listen before the retreads occur, but that would be against the spirit of the exercise; curse my sense of propriety, but who knows, maybe the alternate takes are genius.

Ode to a Kudu at least has the good sense to be short. It is a much softer number, more like a background hum to a quiet clinch, when the rest of the world ceases to matter for a few moments and almost fades out. Not that I would remember what that actually feels like. This track is bearable though and has a cadence that is remarkably pleasant given everything that I have typed in this post to date. Then it is past.

Oh no, the bongos are back evoking less of the east and more of Africa. A squirty, skew-whiff guitar is layered on top. It is a really odd combination that simply doesn't work. I think the worst offenders on these tracks are, in no sort of order, the bongo, the harshness of the organ sound, and the unnaturally bright sparkly air to the guitar. It's all too... clean and shiny. It just re-enforces that non-stick music for hallways, hangouts and elevators feel. There is nothing with any edge to get caught on. No roughness to rub up against - it all just slides right off, all sounding similar and leaving me feeling as though it only exists to fill time.

Time - today has been an odd one. Family time, solo time, time-rewinding magical girl time (Life is Strange starts... interestingly. Not sold on it story-wise yet as it reinforces a lot of my distaste for American High School stories, but characterisation has been improving and the central conceit is interesting enough). Now I feel like my life is on repeat as the alternate takes begin. I think All Clear is less objectionable second time around, but I still sense this is music for people who don't like music. I think I got that phrase from a friend who is no more who used it more pejoratively than is my intent here. I simply mean that it is so bland that there can be no objection, and so it must be perfect for soundtracking fondue parties with bad porn mustaches and flared suits. A child of its time, but perhaps out of step even then.

Yes, I'm talking out of my behind here, but crafting ridiculously stereotyped images of the reception of this disc in the 70s beats actually trying to describe the same things over again as reprises emerge from my speakers. To be fair, I think the alternate takes are better than the originals, significantly so. Almost listenably so. I may even like the redone Ode to a Kudu despite the extra minute added to its length. The guitar is still too spangly and self-congratulating but the subtleties of the percussion and strings in the background are handled really nicely and they draw my ear away from the central theme enough to appreciate the track.

The same cannot be said for Somewhere in the East. If anything the guitar feels more out of place here than before and, unforgivably, the track now pushes towards 10 minutes. Repeated organ chords join the hand-drums in providing elements that build up to my annoyance and everything that was wrong with the initial take of this track seems recaptured here in the only way that could move it from so plain it is bland to just plain bad. It is safe to say I am relieved as the piece finally reaches the (ghastly) conclusion it builds towards and the disc ends. Not a good one, this.