Cross Rhythms reviews 25 mainstream albums old and new

1976
Be Bop Deluxe
Modern Music
Caroline
For the uninitiated, Be Bop Deluxe were a British rock band recording between 1974 and 1978. Though the span of their career is slight, they managed to release five studio albums and a live album in that time frame. The band was driven by the songwriting and axe guitar hero status of its founder Bill Nelson. Lyrically he mixed a sophisticated romanticism with a fascination with sci-fi and an ability to create a memorable turn of phrase. Born in the glam era, Nelson's band often evoked comparisons with David Bowie but had only a fraction of the commercial success. Not that the band didn't have a good go at becoming a major act. 1975's "Maid In Heaven" and 1976's "Ships In The Night" provided the band with minor British hit singles and numerous performances on the Old Grey Whistle Test and various BBC rock concert programmes meant they had a fair amount of exposure. Add to this their relentless schedule of gigging and the groundswell of popularity had developed to its peak when this album was released in 1976. Of course 1976 was for many Year Zero for music with the punk revolution breaking out in London and Manchester. The snarling rejection of established bands was particularly vehement against groups who were skilled musicians and Be Bop Deluxe definitely fitted into that category. Nelson's fluid guitar work is the defining feature of the band's work and in a live setting his extended guitar workouts were capable of taking the breath away. Nelson's creativity wasn't just within the context of creating music. The band's album sleeves were always well considered and in a live setting the band's light show also included extensive use of film when such things were not commonplace. The sleeve for 'Modern Music' really does place them in a pre-punk world where most bands would present themselves in jeans and T-shirts, the men of Be Bop Deluxe were smartly turned out in business suits and ties, an image that continued on stage. It was, in truth, an image as much anti-rock as the punky ripped clothes and big slogan T shirts that were emerging even as this album hit the record racks in September 1976. 'Modern Music' was the third album released in a space of 16 months, following hard on the heels of 'Futurama" (May 1975) and 'Sunburst Finish' (February 1976). After numerous changes in personnel the band had finally settled into a fixed line up that was working well. Nelson was supported by Maori bass player Charlie Tumahai, drummer Simon Fox and keyboard player Andy Clark and in a live setting in 1976 was augmented by a second guitarist. The additional guitarist had become necessary because of the way Nelson's material had been developing. 'Modern Music' features more guitar than any previous release with multi-tracked guitar parts and a myriad of new guitar sounds and hi-tech phasing and other '70s possibilities. It sounds a bit dated to modern ears but this album really was 'Modern Music'. Lyrically, the album's pre-occupations were born of the band's first tour of the United States in March 1976. The band had headed over to play support to an impressive list of headliners touring the continent. They opened up for Styx, Barclay James Harvest, ELO, Wishbone Ash, Thin Lizzy, Patti Smith, The Tubes, Golden Earing and Slade in an effort to establish themselves Stateside. For Nelson it was a dream come true as he had been fascinated by America since childhood and now he had the opportunity to sample the delights of the USA for himself. However, although the country glittered with a pallid golden glow, it left Nelson cold and feeling cynical. The opening lyric of the opening song "Orphans Of Babylon" finds Nelson singing "Marooned in Babylon, thrill seekers on the run.," reflecting his state of mind at the time, exiled thousands of miles from his girlfriend. In the days when vinyl albums and cassette tapes arrived conveniently split into two sides, the musical content here was neatly split into two. Side one was a collection of songs penned on the road in the USA and ranged from the anthemic "Twilight Capers" to the gorgeous poetic piano ballad "The Bird Charmers Destiny". There were two songs which were tried as singles, "Kiss Of Light" and "Bring Back The Spark", but in an era where the charts were packed with pop pap and critics were beginning to get caught up in the distractions of the punk scene, neither fared well. The second side of the album presented the ambitious "Modern Music Suite" opening with a quick scan along the dial of a radio and taking in such voices as comedian Tony Hancock and Be Bop Deluxe champion John Peel (who played the band's early music). It is on the segue of these five songs that the craziness of the American tour was somehow distilled and morphed into a sci-fi sounding metaphor for life in America being like living on a different planet. Mixed into the poetic lyrics were Nelson's yearning for his girlfriend. Nelson's mind seemed to have been awash with a million ideas that sprang out into his songs and although his upbringing and early musical adventures included some time with an involvement in a church in his hometown of Wakefield, that influence was never a major one. Nelson still creates music today, more than 30 years on, as a cottage industry, these days preferring to record ambient instrumental music and looking back at songs such as these as the naïve work of his youthful self. For me, the album represents one of the dying shots of British rock before it was radiated and killed by the fallout from the punk explosion. 'Modern Music' is a seldom praised classic of the era.
Mike Rimmer

1973
Roots/Acoustic
Paul Simon
There Goes Rhymin' Simon
Columbia/Warner Brothers
It's not easy to find a better marriage of words to music than Paul Simon's second solo album. The relationship of lyrics to rhythm could be the definition of poetry in motion. Each song invites us to step into another world, another experience, to feel the emotion of the subjects of the songs. "Kodachrome" the first song of the set grabs the listener with its cynicism and fast pace. Although it may be the weakest song on the album it's still high on the "popular songs in the great scheme of things" chart, a hit single in the US but not in the UK because of lack of airplay due to its trademark name. "One Man's Ceiling Is Another Man's Floor" captures the unsettling apartment block life of rent-paying tenants to perfection and when the man in the song goes outside and down the alley of his apartment block, it's scary enough but when he thinks he hears someone call his name it moves into scary movie territory, and it is actually scary. The one line piano part adds to the terror. The music of Paul Simon solo differs to the music of the famous duo, Simon & Garfunkel, it has more blues in it and chords that jazz musicians use without it sounding like jazz. The lyrics hone in on their subject like a heat seeking missile, hitting the target like a skilled marksman. Yes, you may be honest, but there's no tenderness beneath your honesty ("Tenderness"). It's a spiritual lesson taught better than some pastors could preach it. Honesty is important, right? Yes, it is important, but honesty without tenderness is like a knife in the wrong hands. The spirituality of this album is strong, Paul tells us in "Something So Right" that there is a wall in China to keep foreigners out, he has a wall around him we can't even see. Some people never say the words "I love you", it's not their style to be so bold. It's so appealing because we see ourselves in the songs. When he was a little boy the Devil would call his name, but he's a consecrated boy, a singer in the Sunday choir, his reply to the Devil's calling was "who do you think you're fooling?". In "American Tune", Paul finds that he is dying; his soul rises unexpectedly but looks back down and smiles reassuringly. "St Judy's Comet" (which, incidentally, is the song Malcolm And Alwyn sang about in their song "I Love", covered by Cliff on his 'Small Corners' album) is a song Paul sings to his son and possibly one of the most beautiful songs of all time. The mortar holding all these themes together is the clinically clean yet evocative playing of the famed Muscle Shoals studio musicians. Jimmy Johnson's guitar playing stands as a rule for all session musicians who play on artists' albums, inspirational yet only adding to the song, letting the music breathe but adding seasoning in just the right amount. Barry Beckett's keyboard and vibraphone playing is just as important on here as it was on Dylan's 'Slow Train Coming'. The Dixie Hummingbirds use their ethereal vocal harmonies on "Tenderness" and the gospel flavoured "Loves Me Like A Rock" while the Swan Silvertones' frontman Rev Claude Jeter sings quite superb falsetto on "Take Me To The Mardi Gras". It sounds as if there has been great care taken with the precision of the instrumentation using many over-dubs and studio techniques, but this in fact is the opposite of what actually happened in the recording of this album. They played it right the first time and didn't need studio tricks to perfect things. This album rates as one of my all time favourites and one which I never seem to get tired of playing. These are classic songs; the subtle progression of the chords in the songs was there in the universe long before Paul Simon summoned them.
Paul Poulton

1973
R&B
Donny Hathaway
Extension Of A Man
Atco
Donny Hathaway grew up in the minor mode. It was the music of choice if you wanted to express Southern angst, the pain and anxiety of hard times, those ancient gospel roots. That early, heady mixture of the Good Book, great music and a gospel loving grandma set the tone. Perhaps, then, it was inevitable that Hathaway himself would be a God-chaser. Yet by now, in 1973, with the eclectic 'Extension Of A Man', Hathaway was trying finally to break out, to work in the major in all senses of the word; literally, to extend himself. It was typical of his search for the jubilant, the uplifting, even if his joy seemed forever tinged with sorrow. Producer Arif Mardin knew only too well how much this restless spirit needed to stretch his considerable imagination as an interpreter of the best of R&B. After all, Hathaway's 'Donny Hathaway' and the seminal 'Everything Is Everything' studio albums were never going to be enough. To Hathaway, soul was merely an excuse to continually experiment with new concepts in music, arrangements and performance. But it is more complex than that: this time, they gave the man a complete orchestra. It was unheard of in the genre, but here was a soul artist with unfinished business. The result? - the sumptuous opening track "I Love The Lord; He Heard My Cry (Parts 1 & 2)" - and a composer was born. Undoubtedly there would have been more of its ilk to follow in the coming years. He had aspirations way beyond soul - with plans to write and conduct orchestral works and score major films. However, there is a defining moment some way into this album on which, as far as I'm concerned, the whole of Hathaway's life pivots. We reach this moment with a growing sense of awe at the sheer depth of feeling he brings to his music. It is a break of pure, dangerous silence - enough to makes us consider for an instant that the song has unexpectedly ended. And therein lies the metaphor. 'Extension Of A Man' was to be Hathaway's final solo album. No one could have foreseen the way his torment would ultimately destroy him. Before the pause - in the smouldering blues ballad "I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know" - the guitar is crying, the horns are muted, the sax and keyboards are quietly arguing with each other, and the strings gently sweep up under Donny as he insists "I will be a part of you that no one else can see/I've got to hear you say, I've got to hear you say it's alright"... Then, we wait, hold our breath: utter silence. When he cuts in, it is with the stark confession - "I'm only flesh and blood, but I can be anything you demand/I could be king of everything, or just a tiny grain of sand." He knew his place. The point is that all through this beautifully crafted album, the "you" Donny Hathaway is talking about is that ambiguous love object common to so many sensitive, searching songs. God or lover? The listener has the choice: in the brassy, ghetto-driven "The Slums", in the innocence of "Come Little Children", in the equally chart-friendly "Love, Love, Love", the effortless "Flying Easy". With the rise and fall you can sense the celebration is short lived, uneasy. "I Love The Lord, He Heard My Cry" segues, significantly, into the immaculate, poignant "Some Day We'll All Be Free". Hope and despair. In responding to those age-old questions of inclusion, innocence lost, peace of mind, the search for unconditional love, Donny Hathaway was walking that invisible line between the sacred and the secular - something, if we are totally honest, we all do. An ambitious album, and all the stronger for its vulnerability.
Phil Thomson

1973
R&B
The O'Jays
Ship Ahoy
Philadelphia International
There are few albums that so captivate that even after 35 years one can vividly remember the time and place of its first hearing. This is, for me, such an album. As a long time R&B/soul devotee I'd long been familiar with The O'Jays, enthusiastically consuming each of the singles EMI's Stateside label released in the UK for the soul clubbing cognoscente. But nothing had quite prepared me for 'Ship Ahoy'. I knew soul music was changing. The symphonic soul arrangements of New York production maestros had made strings and horns a pre-requisite for sophisticated ears while the belated discovery of a social conscience in the lyrics of Marvin Gaye and Temptations producer Norman Whitfield showed that black America too had plenty to say in the turbulent times of post Vietnam America. But by '73 Motown's grip on the white pop market was slipping and it was time for a new kid on the block to hit the top spot. Run by songwriter/producers Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff for a period in the '70s, Philadelphia International was THE black-owned record label. So, there I was in the press office of CBS UK, representing a newly launched glossy magazine called Black Music and listening for the first time to The O'Jays' 'Ship Ahoy'. I was transfixed. Here was a soul music masterpiece of truly epic proportions. By the time of its close I, as a devoted chronicler of black American music, wanted nothing more than to go to Philadelphia and get the lowdown on this thrilling musical movement. (I got my wish and in 1976 Eyre Methuen published the book The Sound Of Philadelphia by Tony Cummings. but that's another story.) What was so captivating about 'Ship Ahoy' was that it worked on so many levels. For a start, it took all the dazzling arrangements that had made "Love Train" and "Back Stabbers" such irresistible pop and R&B hits. But with this album Gamble and Huff added to those soaringly soulful harmonies and Eddie Levert's churchy lead vocals powerful social messages. The album tackled issues ranging from air quality, ghetto crime, crass materialism and the bleak history of slavery. The opener "Put Your Hands Together" with its love, peace and happiness lyric was, maybe, a bit TOO close to "Love Train" to stand the test of time but just about everything else on the album was top-of-the-tree. "Don't Call Me Brother" nailed the demise of community relations in the ghetto. The epic (it's almost nine minutes long) track highlighted the hypocrisy of ghetto culture where ordinary people are under the thumb of the 'hood. The group's Walter Williams preached it straight, "You don't even have any self respect/How can you respect somebody/I watch you running around the neighbourhood/Trying to rip me off." But it's Eddie Levert singing with all the raw power of a hard gospel quartet frontman who took the song to its climax. Coming out of a bar he finds his car broken into only to find the perpetrator standing there unconcerned, spouting street talk: "And here you come, skinning and grinning/I know you did it/With the power sign/And talkin' about 'my man, solid on that, my brotha.'" This withering denouncement of ghetto youth appropriating the signs and symbols of the black power movement while doing things in direct opposition to African American political empowerment was Gable and Huff at their finest. There were two other monumental tracks on 'Ship Ahoy'. The title song is a chilling depiction of the "middle passage" when enslaved Africans made their way in the slave ships across the Atlantic. The song brilliantly personalises the tortured destiny of the slaves in a song and production of almost cinematic power. But of all the great Gamble/Huff productions and songs the greatest of all must surely be the album's masterpiece "For The Love Of Money". For a start it contains one of the funkiest and most memorable riffs ever, a classic piece of compulsive rhythm as instantly recognisable as the clavinet riff on Stevie Wonder's "Superstition" or the bass groove on the Temptations' "Papa Was A Rollin' Stone". The delicious, hypnotic synth figure on "For The Love Of Money" immediately grips the attention before being underpinned by the group's three voices chanting "money, money, money, money" in a swirl of reverb. Then, to add to the sublime rhythmic delights, Eddie Levert, at the height of his secular preacher power, comes in to denounce the materialism and greed of Western culture. "For the love of money/People will steal from their own mother/A woman will sell her precious body/For a small piece of paper/It carries a lot of weight/For that mean, mean, green/Oh mighty dollar." This soul/dance classic had subsequently been sampled and covered by various acts but no one has got near to this definitive denouncement of the materialistic greed that can blight all our lives. A couple of years ago I saw the feature film The Fighting Temptations and there was Eddie Levert and his fellow O'Jays playing the part of gospel-singing barbers. I know not if Eddie's Christianity was the religious sentimentality of a gospel-singing youth or a living, vibrant relationship with Jesus of Nazareth. I hope it is the latter. And either way, The O'Jays' 'Ship Ahoy' is as good as soul music gets.
Tony Cummings

1973
Rock
Pink Floyd
The Dark Side Of The Moon
Columbia
This is such a historically significant album, it's like the Mona Lisa, like Beethoven's 5th of Progressive Rock: groundbreaking in style, experimental with new sounds and textures, slightly controversial at first, and deeply inspirational for many years after its release. For the last 35 years it has been the benchmark by which all other prog rock and concept albums have been judged. It contains the perfect combination of thoughtful and melodic songwriting, experimental instrumental passages, interesting sound effects and spoken clips, and the sublime guitar work of David Gilmour. In a sense, this album describes the grieving process of a band that lost their founder and lead singer Syd Barrett due to mental illness caused by drug abuse. Subject matter (all dealt with very poetically) includes wasting time, wasting money, saying goodbye, illness, madness and even death: "The Great Gig In The Sky". That particular track is the fulcrum of the album and must be the most incredible song without words in the history of modern music: session singer Clare Torry cries, howls, soars, oohs and ahhs as if her life depends upon it and it is such a heartfelt effort from deep within that it will bring the listener to tears. Use it during an intercessory prayer time when most attendants won't be familiar with the music and it will spur them on to another level: it's that powerful! This is one of the few secular rock albums that, during the extended instrumental passages, can draw the listener closer to our God the creator of music. Gilmour's soaring guitar and the saxophone of guest Dick Parry deliver their tomes with such freedom and emotion that visions of heavenly activities are born in the hearer's mind. No matter what motives and thoughts the band had during the recording and writing process, something good was captured on to tape and vinyl. Please be aware though, that for some who were non-believers during the mid '70s, this album will be a reminder of a past lifestyle that would rather be forgotten (and forgiven). Also there are two instances of four-letter words that you would not want small children to hear. Otherwise, in the 21st century it is still a work of great substance that is yet to be surpassed, and one that all rock musicians and fans need to listen to at least once: preferably the 30th anniversary SACD in 5.1 surround: one of the greatest surround sound mixes yet created. Listen and learn. If you had six months in Abbey Road Studios, what would you come up with?
Andy Cooper

1971
R&B
Marvin Gaye
What's Going On
Tamla
One of the problems in maintaining a website like Cross Rhythms which endeavours to cover all kinds of music made by Christians - both ministry and mainstream - is what to do with "secular" artists who clearly have had at some point a Christian conversion but aren't currently living a Christian life. As anyone who read the definitive David Ritz-penned Marvin Gaye biography A Divided Soul will know, Marvin was a believer but one who never conquered his inner demons so that, like Donnie Hathaway, Bobby Womack and, sadly, many more, he lived a life where sexual promiscuity and drug abuse regularly interrupted anything recognisably Christian in his lifestyle. Not wanting to enter the still thwart theological debate between the Calvinistic and Armenian camps about what are the nature and effects of Christian conversion, Cross Rhythms' editorial team continually ponder whether such and such an artist's works have any relevance in a forum and discography like Cross Rhythms. And so to Marvin and this classic album. Throughout the '60s Marvin made brilliant singles and lousy albums. His singles were soul pop gems that like 1963's "Can I Get A Witness" or 1964's "How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You" evoked not just the spirit but the very phraseology of black church. His albums though were often littered with filler or, even worse, corny show tunes (1965's 'Hello Broadway This Is Marvin'). But then in 1971 came this jaw-dropping epic, a lush, orchestral, stream-of-consciousness collage which one critic described as "Gaye gazing into the ether and pleading for some kind of redemption for mankind." Addressing such issues as war, environmental disaster and urban blight it was light years away from Motown's usual obsession with sugar-coated romance. Time magazine wrote, "Gaye weaves a vast, melodically deft symphonic pop suite in which Latin beats, soft soul, scat and Hollywood schmaltz yield effortlessly to each other. He also praises God and Jesus and blesses peace, love, children and the poor." The three shining classics on the album were all to be released as singles - "What's Going On", "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" and "Inner City Blues". They are truly brilliant. But elsewhere on the album Christians found much to intrigue them. "Right On" offered what Christian critic Steve Turner would call "a funky version of the Sermon On The Mount" while on "God Is Love" Marvin soulfully croons that Jesus is his friend who "forgives all our sins" and "loves us whether or not we know it." If Marvin's career and life had stopped there no doubt Cross Rhythms would be eulogising 'What's Going On' as the work of a repentant prodigal ala Al Green's 'The Lord Will Make A Way'. But what was to follow for the tortured soul singer/composer/producer was nearly all bad spiritually if not creatively. 1973's 'Let's Get It On' was on many levels a brilliant soul album. But it was one, as he freely admitted, inspired by his lust for an adolescent girlfriend, the enjoyment of whose pleasures he found in no way incompatible with his marriage vows. And it was to get worse for Marvin's cocaine-confused perspective so that shortly before his death he was to blur the sacred and the profane so utterly that he was to write and record the song "Sanctified Pussy". But leaving such excess and the tragedy of his life on one side, few can argue that 'What's Going On' is one of the greatest albums ever made.
Tony Cummings

1966
Blues
John Mayall
Blues Breakers With Eric Clapton
Decca
After a decade slogging it out on Britain's blues circuit with the likes of the Blues Syndicate and the Powerhouse Four, Macclesfield born bluesman John Mayall struck gold in the mid '60s by employing a certain up and coming guitarist called Eric Clapton. Clapton had recently quit The Yardbirds in protest to their material moving away from the blues influences he held dear and his linking up with the man they would later call the grandfather of British blues produced one of the most influential and revered British blues albums of all time. The timing of their collaboration could not have been better. At the time, many American blues singers from yesteryear were enjoying a renaissance in the UK and the genre was experiencing a level of popularity unheard of in its history - largely thanks to Mayall himself and bands like the Rolling Stones and the Yardbirds - and the public was hungry for more. With the aim of replicating the band's barnstorming live sound in the studio, Mayall set about recording this 12 song collection over a three day period with producer Mike Vernon at the helm and Hughie Flint (subsequently of McGuinness Flint and Blues Band fame) and John McVie (founding member of Fleetwood Mac) on drums and bass respectively. Mayall's talent as a writer and keyboard player is evident throughout and, whilst his vocals occasionally fall short of the mark, he carries the listener along on a sizeable wave of enthusiasm as he belts out self-penned classics such as "Little Girl", "Have You Heard" and "Key To Love". Elsewhere, he shows his prowess as a harmonica player in a stripped down version of the old prison work song "Another Man" and a breakneck cover of Mose Allison's "Parchman Farm" which all add variety to the proceedings. Whilst Mayall was undoubtedly the main man, what made him a cut above the rest as a bandleader was the room he selflessly gave his musicians to express themselves and ultimately shine in the process. In this instance, it is Clapton who explodes into view - largely thanks to a revolutionary decision to marry his Les Paul guitar with a newly designed Marshall amplifier turned up to the limit - and it is the resultant rich, distorted guitar sound that became the album's trademark and would add fuel to the "Clapton is God" claims of adoring fans. From the searing intro of the opener "All Your Love", an electrifying version of the Otis Rush classic, to the relentless energy and technical genius of "Hideaway" and "Steppin' Out", Clapton shapes not only the album but arguably the whole musical landscape of rock music from that point on, immediately influencing a certain Jimi Hendrix who, shortly after hearing the album, bought a Marshall amp to see what he could do with it. In later years, the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughan, Jeff Healy and Gary Moore paid homage to the album in their playing styles (the latter covering faithful versions of "All Your Love" and "Key To Love" on his blues albums of the early '90s) and guitarists to this day still refer back to this timeless body of work as a benchmark. The pairing of Mayall and Clapton was to be short lived - Clapton went on to form super group Cream whilst Peter Green, later of Fleetwood Mac, became his replacement - but their work on this album alone was enough to give them both their rightful place in the annals of music history.
Lins Honeyman

1966
Pop
Beach Boys
Pet Sounds
Capital
By 1965 Brian Wilson had retired from The Beach Boys as a touring band, being replaced at first by Glen Campbell and then Bruce Johnston. This left Brian in the one place on earth where he felt truly at home: the recording studio and here he set out to single-handedly turn back the "British invasion" by creating the first pop album that had no filler. Having met Los Angeles copywriter Tony Asher at a party Brian persuaded him to ask for leave of absence from his day job and supply the lyrics for this new, grown-up project and then set out to recruit the very best session musicians to record the backing tracks before putting in the vocals himself. Eventually the rest of The Beach Boys were allowed to add their vocals but, essentially, this is a Brian Wilson solo album. Its theme is love. Not the beach blanket teenage kicks love that The Beach Boys had made their trademark over the previous four years but the real thing, as seen by the newlywed Brian. We start with the excitement of "Wouldn't It Be Nice" and move through the introspection of "You Still Believe In Me" and "That's Not Me" on to what may well be the greatest pop song ever, "God Only Knows" in which Brian's little brother Carl gives the finest performance of his life, before reaching the realisation that love has to change and grow if it is not to wither and die with "Caroline No". Every song deserves comment and the concepts behind every song could illustrate many a sermon. This is not religious music but it is deeply spiritual. Indeed Brian and Carl would pray together as they worked on 'Pet Sounds'. Surely the Holy Ghost was whispering in Brian's one good ear while he was writing the album. If you doubt me then I urge you to save up and buy the 4-CD 'The Pet Sounds Sessions' and hear a genius at work.
Steven Whitehead

1965
R&B
Otis Redding
The Great Otis Redding Sings Soul Ballads
Volt
In my teenage years I was a very active member of a clique of record collectors who had little time for the British bands offering cover versions of blues and R&B hits, preferring to shout the praises of the originators and clamouring for each R&B song that labels like London and Stateside saw fit to release. So, from the moment I first head the gnarled-yet-exquisitely-tender voice of this one-time gospel singer from Dawson, Georgia I was a deeply committed fan. I bought the "Pain In My Heart" single and the subsequent album. I bought the sublime trio of singles "Security", "Chained And Bound" and "Mr Pitiful". And by the time the single "I've Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now)" came out in 1965 I was making a thorough nuisance of myself at Moon's Electronics in Plymouth every week, asking when an Otis Redding album was due. When belatedly issued (six months after the US release!) I was in a state of excitement which turned to sublime intoxication. Here was soul music as deep as you could get. When Otis purred Jackie Wilson's "A Woman, A Lover, A Friend" or the Impressions' "For Your Precious Love" he didn't simply cover R&B hits, he took over the songs to offer definitive versions of glory and pathos. Everything came together on this album: a rhythm section (Booker T & The MGs) you'd die for, a horn section whose staccato riffs added drama to every line, and songwriting which took lost love songs to new solemn depths. Within two years of course Otis was dead in a plane crash and by the end of the '70s southern soul's popularity was waning in favour of newer, funkier forms of R&B. But even today songs like "That's How Strong My Love Is" and "Chained And Bound" have the capacity to move the hardest heart.
Tony Cummings

1961
Blues
Elmore James
Blues After Hours
Fire
In the same way that Bo Diddley built a whole career on one classic riff, blues man Elmore James created a riff of such bone-rattling brilliance that he could record it ad infinitum since it first emerged as "Dust My Broom" in 1951. As "Dust My Blues" it opens this album with such swaggering power that all the later blues pretenders like the Stones, Yordbirds et al who sought to replicate it are on a hammering to nothing. It must be heard in all its swaggering, bottleneck power that only this Mississippi maestro could conjure up. After a spell of retirement Bobby Robinson of Fire Records persuaded Elmore to return to club gigs in the late '50s and gained Elmore another R&B hit with "The Sky Is Crying". (To get that song you'll need to get 'The Best Of Elmore James' or one of the numerous James compilations.) Sadly, Elmore never enjoyed the accolades of the white blues audience - he died of a heart attack in 1963 - but in truth he was a giant who fully deserved his moniker "King of the slide guitar".
Tony Cummings

1959
R&B
Isley Brothers
Shout!
RCA
The first album I ever owned and a clear indication that God had implanted in this Devonshire school boy a deep love of black American church music. Not that 'Shout!' was a gospel album; it was gospel with God taken out, an early example of what was to make fortunes for Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin and dozens more singers who took the sound and spirit of black church and turned it into soul music/rhythm and blues. Ohio's Ronald, Rudolph and O'Kelly Isley got their screaming, declamatory style directly from the classic gospel quartets of the '50s. It was after signing with RCA Records that the three brothers had their success (47 in the US pop charts) with the two part "Shout", a song they had "composed" while improvising call-and-response fervour at a live performance at Harlem's famed Apollo Theater when singing Ray Charles' "What'd I Say". It is still a stone classic, Ronald screaming himself into apoplexy as the group chanted their responses. For several years pop history wasn't kind to the Isleys. Scotland's LuLu mangled "Shout" to gain a UK hit a few years later and to add insult to injury The Beatles recorded a vastly inferior version of the Isley Brothers' Spanish soul version of "Twist And Shout". But eventually the never-say-die Isleys gained pop hits on Tamla and T-Neck. But what of this 1959 album? Apart from a wonderful sleve - three black guys in baggy white suits leaping in the air - it, like just about all the long players of the time, is full of filler. There's a version of their followup single "Respectable", a version of the old spiritual "He's Got The Whole World in His Hands" and, most bizarrely of all, an odd version of Bill Hailey's "Rock Around The Clock". But such dubious delights can't dim that electrifying run through of "Shout!"
Tony Cummings