CD Review: Def Leppard - Viva! Hysteria

CD Review: Def Leppard - Viva! Hysteria

Frontiers Records

All Access Rating: A-

Def Leppard - Viva! Hysteria

Def Leppard was under siege. Bottles of urine and beer cans were, according to reports from the front lines, lobbed at them from every direction at the 1980 Reading Festival by angry British louts who weren't too keen on how Americanized this youthful hard-rock brigade was starting to sound. 

They must have torn their hair out when they heard 1987's Hysteria. Even if band members downplay the incident these days, saying it wasn't all that bad dodging missiles of piss and that other bands were getting similar treatment, it couldn't have made for a very enjoyable, or hygienic, experience. Although everybody can have a good laugh about it all these years later.

Nowhere near as boorish, the audiences in Las Vegas that turned out in the spring of 2013 for Def Leppard's 11-show residency at The Joint in the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino must have been swept off their feet by the still somewhat fresh-faced pop-metal glamour kids' glitzy "Viva! Hysteria" production. What an ideal location for this elaborate staging, centered around the sugar rush of vibrant, colorful performances of the band's highly stylized and massively successful Hysteria album in its entirety, given the sexy, glittery history of Vegas-style showmanship.

Vivid and vibrant new DVD, Blu-ray and deluxe two CD/DVD releases of this terrifically entertaining, high-definition aural and visual extravaganza are out now via Frontiers Records. One half of the CD document is all about the deliriously infectious Hysteria, and somehow, Def Leppard manages to bring to life the sonic wonderland they created with Mutt Lange with all the studio bells and whistles of the original record, although some of the gloss gets wiped away to reveal the songs' killer hooks and just how much instrumental flair and fire the band still possesses.

The sound quality is brilliant, and despite an aging Joe Elliott's occasional struggles to climb up to that higher register, the band is as fit and tight as ever, rarely dragging at any time. Melodic and fluid, while also squealing in ecstasy, the strikingly bold, piercing guitar work of Phil Collen and Vivian Campbell cuts through the air like the point of a spear. On target every time, they make notes sting ever so sweetly and poisonously in "Animal," the breathy title track and "Love Bites." Detonating the sheer bombast of "Women," "Pour Some Sugar On Me," "Don't Shoot Shotgun" and "Armageddon It" with sharp, bountiful riffing, they also put a charge of electricity into "Rock of Ages" and "Photograph."

There's a festive, circus-like atmosphere to "Viva! Hysteria," and Def Leppard revels in it, with Elliott playfully and confidently stirring up the crowd and singing as powerfully as he's able, Rick Allen working his dynamic percussive magic and Rick Savage's bass bounding around and almost imperceptibly driving this party bus. And, as always, Leppard's background vocals are sublime, fleshing out a sound that's already bigger than life.

Of course, this sort of thing is nothing new. The trend of classic-rock and even alternative acts with glorious pasts going out and playing full albums live is reaching epidemic proportions. "Viva! Hysteria" offers a twist on the tried-and-true formula, though. Assuming the pseudonym Ded Flatbird, a mistaken utterance from someone who couldn't correctly pronounce Def Leppard, went beyond Hysteria and played two different opening sets of rarities, newer stuff and old hits as the "greatest Def Leppard" tribute band ever, as Elliott called them. 

There's a second disc full of them here. After the sensory overload of reliving Hysteria, hearing a fistful of charmingly scruffy rock 'n' roll with some dirt under its fingernails is satisfying, as Leppard knocks out driving anthems like "Rock Brigade," "Wasted," "Stagefright," "Undefeated," "Let It Go" and "High 'n' Dry" with a ragged toughness and raw excitement that recalls their rowdy salad days, as well as the rollicking energy of Elliott's Mott The Hoople tribute band Down 'n' Outz. "Viva! Hysteria," indeed. 

- Peter Lindblad  

  

DVD Review: Deep Purple - Perfect Strangers

DVD Review Deep Purple - Perfect Strangers

Eagle Rock Entertainment

All Access Rating: A

Deep Purple - Perfect Strangers 2013

None of the members of the Mark II version of Deep Purple could put their fingers on the exact reason why they decided to reunite in 1984, except to say that the timing was right. 

Whenever the question was posed to any of them in the various TV interviews stitched together for the period tour documentary included as bonus footage and providing historical context for the new live DVD "Perfect Strangers," vague, incomplete and stammering answers cautiously escaped their mouths as if they didn't fully understand it either. There was something mystical at work.

Money wasn't the issue. One of the more contentious pieces in the piece, which seems to follow Purple from stop to stop, finds an irritated Ian Gillan bristling at the mere suggestion that a big pile of sweaty cash would entice them to reform when the idea was posited by two TV show hosts clearly angling for an admission that financial remuneration, and lots of it, was what brought them back together after all these years. Gillan said they'd had plenty of lucrative offers to do it since 1973, when the classic lineup simply couldn't bear to continue as they were then configured - his implication being that they would have done it a hell of a lot sooner if that was the only issue holding things up.

There was no explanation for it, aside from the fact that all the planets had aligned for Gillan, Roger Glover, Ritchie Blackmore, Ian Paice and Jon Lord. And certainly none was needed when the magically reunified Mark II crew embarked on a massively successful tour in support of the platinum-selling comeback album, Perfect Strangers, that included this searing, and somewhat mischievous, performance of newer material and older classics Purple gave in Melbourne, Australia one night in '84.

The camera certainly doesn't lie, and neither does the roaring sound and sharp imagery of "Perfect Strangers," filmed smartly and with purpose to conscientiously capture not only the technically brilliant musicianship Purple's always been famous for, but also the explosiveness and wild-eyed euphoria of a group that had plenty of fire left in its belly and was as cohesive as ever.

Firing on all cylinders, Purple slams through a careening version of "Highway Star," riding high-voltage riffs, before getting caught in the wash of the bluesy spin cycle that is "Nobody's Home." With lust in their hearts and a wolfish demeanor, they revel in the surging testosterone of "Knocking at Your Back Door," a song of "low morals," as a devilish Gillian describes it. 

Haunting and mesmerizing, "Child in Time" is dark and beautifully rendered, punctuated by the magnificent, and barely human, screams of Gillan, clad in black leather pants and full of charismatic machismo. Building drama slowly, until the song becomes an exploding star, Purple also smolders in "Gypsy's Kiss," and expands "Perfect Strangers" into something even more exotic and cinematic in scope than on record. Everywhere else, however, the quickened pace of these songs is breathtaking, and the extended jams are furious and full of substantive, agile movements. No noodling is allowed.

The ramshackle, cosmic-hippie grooves of "Space Truckin'" rumble and shake; then suddenly, Purple falls down the rabbit hole of that dizzying chorus and burns up on re-entry. Unexpectedly playful, Gillan and Blackmore break ranks during a brawny, combustible "Strange Kind of Woman" and briefly segue into "Jesus Christ Superstar." And when Purple plows into the anti-war sentiment of "Under the Gun" with righteous intensity, Blackmore's crazed soloing and Hendrix-like showmanship, so gripping here, grows even wilder, with the guitar wizard laying his instrument over an amp and having his noisy, distorted way with it.

Directed for optimum action, with superbly written liner notes, "Perfect Strangers" is the concert film Deep Purple had to release, if for no other reason than to remind everyone that the MK2 lineup had few, if any, equals in a live setting. Nobody plays hard rock with this kind of passion and hunger, not to mention their virtuosity and indebtedness to classical music, just for money. http://www.eagle-rock.com/

- Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Monster Magnet – Last Patrol

Monster Magnet – Last Patrol

Napalm Records

All Access Rating: A-

Monster Magnet - Last Patrol 2013

Without Monster Magnet around to spark up their own full-throttle brand of “stoner metal” and go joy-riding through space to seek adventure and cruise for easy girls in the cosmos, the universe would be far less interesting.

Hedonistic space lords as magnificent as Dave Wyndorf apologize for nothing, and with the unforgiving Last Patrol, Monster Magnet’s latest magic carpet ride on Napalm Records, pimped out in retro amps, guitars and trippy effects in an attempt to summon the hallucinogenic demons of their early psychedelic-garage days, the word “sorry” cannot be found his rich vocabulary. Exuding warm and distinctive clarity, Last Patrol is produced with care, so that every part of this sonic space-rock jalopy sounds brand new and forceful, even with all the miles on her.

Housed in such a clean-running machine, this work of mind-blowing pulp fiction is full of noir-style, sci-fi tales of obsessive torment, revenge fantasies and sexual conquest pulled from the outer reaches of Wyndorf’s fevered imagination, and yet Last Patrol never gets lost in the stormy turbulence of its own making. Even amid the howling chaos of wah-wah guitars, crazed distortion and crashing drums that close the title track, Monster Magnet’s momentum-gathering riffs drive straight through it without ever being blown off course, just as they do in “End of Time,” another blazing garage-rock comet propelled forward with apocalyptic urgency and NASA-like precision into swirling madness.  

Painting vivid scenes with absurdist imagery and colorful language, Wyndorf talks of stairs that lead nowhere, a man-hungry 10-foot blonde and “dead moons and chicken bones” in a commanding, if weathered, voice, as if he’s author Philip K. Dick with a guitar. With his craggy, deep vocals, Wyndorf builds aural cinematic drama like a musical John Ford, the ominous acoustic guitar plucking and strums in the intros to “Paradise” and “I Live behind the Clouds” foreshadowing something evil coming this way or a showdown of half android, half human gunfighters in a parallel futuristic universe to Deadwood.

There is religious fervor in the stomping, hell-spawned blues of “Hallelujah,” where Wyndorf gives a wild-eyed sermon on sin and salvation that could make the dead rise and the righteous weep. And while the careening “Mindless Ones” works up a furious tempest of distorted, violent energy reminiscent of those whipped up by Hawkwind, in Monster Magnet’s disembodied hands, Donovan’s exotic “Three Kingfishers” undergoes a withering transformation into a heavy metal odyssey of the mind, “Stay Tuned” dives headlong into tunneling blackness and “The Duke (Of Supernature)” hitches a ride upriver through the conga drum currents of Black Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan.” Monster Magnet continues to go where others fear to tread.

 –   Peter Lindblad

Various Artists – CBGB: Original Movie Soundtrack

Various Artists – CBGB: Original Movie Soundtrack

Omnivore Records

All Access Rating: B

Various artists - CBGB: Original Movie
Soundtrack 2013

So far, the critics haven’t been at all kind to the movie“CBGB.” Even though Television's Richard Lloyd and the Dead Boys’ Cheetah Chrome, both of whom have a long history with the iconic punk venue, have gone on record giving it their stamp of approval, others aren’t so enamored.

Their knives sharpened, the film’s detractors have crucified it, in fact. Actors were reportedly miscast for important roles or gave performances that were just plain flat. Inaccuracies are said to abound, at the very least compromising its authenticity. And these are just a few of the complaints.

Worst of all, there’s a sense that the filmmakers failed to go that extra mile to capture the explosive zeitgeist of the times or the energy of a place that was so vital in nurturing the innovation and raw fury of the nascent punk rock scene of New York City in the late 1970s, not to mention its propensity for good, dumb fun. The Ramones had a lot of it, and so did The Dictators.

If nothing else then, the Omnivore Records soundtrack has to be good, right? Well, yes and no. Taken out of context, without any regard for what actually took place at CBGB, this is a fine collection of riotous, vicious rock ‘n’ roll that provokes and agitates, with a pulse that simply races and lyrics that are poetic and unflinchingly honest. The tension of almost every track threatens to boil over at any point, even if stylistically speaking, there is a good amount of diversity. Whatever qualms people – especially the old punks “who were there” – have about the film, the track listing of the soundtrack offers at least some measure of salvation.

Containing all of 20 songs within its graffiti-splattered walls, it is not, by any means, an exhaustive survey of the trailblazing acts or performers who made CBGB their home. And some of the choices are predictable, but perhaps necessary, like the Talking Heads’ anxiety-ridden “Life during Wartime.” Exactly what the MC5’s wild-eyed “Kick Out the Jams” or The Stooges’ bad acid trip “I Wanna Be Your Dog” – both groundbreaking pieces of great significance and influence, no doubt – are doing here is up for debate, seeing as how the scene of the most memorable meltdowns from these Motor City proto-punks was probably the Grande Ballroom in Detroit.

In between such obvious and controversial selections, however, lies the true identity of CBGB, where the Tuff Darts’ gnarly, bull-in-a-china-shop manifesto “All for the Love of Rock ‘N’ Roll” knocks the martini glass out of the hand of Blondie’s sweet and stylish 2013 remake of the sunny and sophisticated “Sunday Girl.” What could be more CBGB than Wayne County and the Electric Chairs’ edgy, kinetic “Out of Control” sharing garish makeup tips with the New York Dolls’ gleefully obnoxious and thoroughly pugnacious “Chatterbox” or Television’s nervous art-pop tale of romantic bitterness “Careful” commiserating with Johnny Thunders & the Heartbreakers’ punched-up, soul-searing lament “All By Myself.” God, but the serrated guitars everywhere on this soundtrack cut you to the quick.

All of these songs bristle with frustrated energy just begging for an outlet. CBGB and its eccentric owner Hilly Kristal were only too happy to oblige the poetic vitriol and tortured self-loathing of “Blank Generation” by Richard Hell & the Voidoids, as well as The Dictators’ obscenely funny, amphetamine-fueled romp through The Rivieras’ classic rocker “California Sun.” Two songs by the Dead Boys, the snarling “Caught with the Meat in Your Mouth” and the blazing arson that is “Sonic Reducer,” have a seat at CBGB’s table, as do the swaggering, hip-shaking garage-rockers “Slow Death” and “Psychotic Reaction,” by the Flamin’ Groovies and The Count Five, respectively.

Of course, they also made room for The Police, who played at CBGB just before they broke it big. Their super-tight, bubbling paean to a painted-prostitute “Roxanne” is part of the soundtrack, which, as many critics will undoubtedly say, could serve a musical textbook for any Punk Rock 101 class. It should have been much better though.

Although Joey Ramone’s bare-knuckled brawler “I Get Knocked Down (But I’ll Get Up)” makes an appearance, how is there nothing from The Ramones as a whole here? And why give space to a Blondie remake of “Sunday Girl” when some other original from back in the band’s more subversively sexual heyday would have lent the set more heat? For that matter, who needs yet another chance to own “Kick out the Jams” or “I Wanna Be Your Dog”? Every winning choice and every unexpected surprise on the “CBGB” soundtrack is matched by another that’s completely baffling or gallingly superfluous. Give this to a kid who needs some real punk rock in his or her life, but tell them there was more to CBGB than this.

 –    Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Lita Ford – The Bitch is Back Live

Lita Ford – The Bitch is Back Live

Steamhammer/SPV

All Access Review: B+

Lita Ford - The Bitch is Back ... Live 2013

Polite society may not approve of today's liberal usage of the word “bitch.” Lita Ford has lived her life in a different kind of world, one where sticks and stones are occasionally used to break bones, but names couldn't ever hurt her.

On her last studio record, Ford wrote of coming to the realization that she'd been living like a runaway her whole life. And, of course, the title, Living like a Runaway, had a lot to do with the hard-luck story of the teenage punk rock girl group The Runaways she was a part of in the 1970s, but there's more to it than that.

Away from the stage, Ford has endured great tumult in her personal life, especially in recent years. Getting through it requires the kind of resilience one gets from being as independent or brave enough to escape a troubled home. In other words, being a bitch is sometimes necessary for one's survival. Making 2012’s intensely personal Living like a Runaway was not only therapeutic for Ford, as she opened up about a lot of stuff, but it also served notice that those who'd written her off as a relic of the ‘80s were dead wrong. The bitch was back, having penned and recorded some of the most affecting and edgy rock ‘n’ roll of her career, and the crowd who welcomed her to the Canyon Club in Agoura Hills, Calif., in early October of 2012 was glad she hadn't burned out or faded away just yet.

How appropriate then that she should kick off her latest concert album, The Bitch is Back Live, with the defiant Elton John song of the same name. A ballsy rocker dripping with attitude, Ford's version is unrepentant and has a thick skin, not veering far from the raucous spirit of the original, even if the choruses are delivered in a surprisingly tame and reserved voice. She must have been saving her strength.

The rest of The Bitch is Back Live holds nothing back. "Hungry," off 1990's Stiletto LP, sounds even more lewd and lascivious than it did back then, as Ford and her band, featuring Mitch Perry on guitar, Bobby Rock on drums and Marty O'Brien on bass, make its hot grooves perspire and its sinful melody slither and slide in the most seductive manner possible. Sex is not the only thing on Ford’s mind, however. In bringing out the heavy artillery of "Devil in My Head," "Relentless" and "Hate" off Living like a Runaway, Ford and company couch darker, more disturbing lyrical themes of temptation and violence in meaty, mauling riff grinds that plow these evils under as if they were sites of some horrific tragedy.

Still, this is a party, with an undeniably communal vibe, and Ford raises hell on "Kiss Me Deadly," hitting all of its confetti-strewn, sugary pop notes to close out the night. Ford expresses her love for the "roaring guitars" of "Hungry" and the dueling guitar "dive-bombs" of the sinister and melodic “Back to the Cave,” before begging all in attendance to check out the powerful words to “Hate.” And when Ford gets to “Can’t Catch Me,” the little ball of thrash-metal fury she wrote with Motorhead hellion Lemmy Kilmister while on a bender, nobody’s the least bit surprised that its ramshackle rumblings and blitzkrieg riffage has shaken the Canyon Club’s foundations.

As intimate as live recordings get, with plenty of audience reaction captured in pristine clarity, The Bitch is Back Live sees Ford playing with the reckless swagger and raw energy of a teenager who doesn't know what life's about yet. Trading well-executed licks with Perry, Ford causes her guitar to scream its orgasms, but when she sings, she's part little girl lost in the world and part worldly madame who's seen it all and then some. Her voice can be soft and alluring when it has to be, but when she wants it to scratch and claw like a wildcat, it's certainly capable of turning feral or moody, as it does in the hit “Close My Eyes Forever,” which loses some of its Gothic romance here while gaining more emotional heft.

Some of Ford’s songs have always had parts that flat-lined, and in the harsh glare of a live performance, these flaws are magnified. The flaccid “run baby, run” chorus of the song “Living like a Runaway” is a prime example, but Ford is also capable of exhibiting toughness and heart in songwriting that is always accessible and easy to relate to, just like that of her old partner Joan Jett. Ford, though, is metal’s queen, and as such, she demands a sound that’s thick and crushing, but also tuneful. She’s ready to take back her throne. http://www.spv.de/

-         –  Peter Lindblad

DVD Review: Santana & McLaughlin – Invitation to Illumination – Live at Montreux 2011

DVD Review: Santana & McLaughlin: Invitation to Illumination – Live at Montreux 2011

Eagle Rock Entertainment

All Access Review: A-

Santana & McLaughlin - Invitation to
Illumination - Live at Montreux 2011

John McLaughlin and Carlos Santana are two peas in a pod. Musically adventurous and perpetually thirsty in their lifelong quests for spirituality, the two guitar shamans were similarly drawn to the teachings of guru Sri Chinmoy in the early 1970s, and after the original Santana band disbanded after the difficult birth of Caravanserai, an album that confounded Santana fans, the two threw themselves into the making of the paradigm-shifting 1973 jazz-rock fusion record Love Devotion Surrender, which made even less sense to Santana followers and some critics.

To McLaughlin and Santana, however, their uniquely innovative creation was perfectly understandable, a melting pot of revolutionary ideas both harmonious and chaotic. In that respect, it took its cues from humanity and life itself, as Love Devotion Surrender paid homage to heroes like John Coltrane and Miles Davis and served as a beautifully disordered prayer – expressing deep hope and faith in a higher power and mankind’s capacity for goodness, while acknowledging the continuing fight for justice and peace requires an army of patient and persistent non-violent soldiers. 

And somehow, all of these notions are communicated throughout Love Devotion Surrender to anyone willing to listen for them. In 2011, with Claude Nobs serving as matchmaker, the two men joined up onstage at Nobs’ Montreux Jazz Festival to do something they’d never done – that is, co-headline a concert together. The effervescent “Invitation to Illumination – Live at Montreux 2011” documents that dazzling, once-in-a-lifetime performance in sumptuous color and sound, as Santana and the one-time Davis sideman McLaughlin, with help from members of both their bands, dust the cobwebs off Love Devotion Surrender and re-imagine four of its five tracks in a live setting, including their warm and reverential reading of Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme” and various and sundry pieces from their back catalogs. The audience may not have always understand the language they were speaking, but those who were there surely appreciated its complex and creative nature.

And what they get is a transcendent, almost religious experience, where the fluid, melodic playing of Santana and the almost subversive, exceedingly progressive virtuosity of McLaughlin reach for and run to higher ground – as they do in that LP’s “The Creator has a Master Plan,” a gently flowing mélange of congas, shakers and other percussive elements, soft piano rain and intricate guitar negotiations. Taking great delight in watching each other launch into flights of daring, high-wire six-string machinations, they go bushwhacking through the thorny thicket and building drama of “The Life Divine,” Love Devotion Surrender’s remake of Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme,” in the search for light and open spaces to roam freely about. For Coltrane’s “Naima” and “Lotus Land Op 47, No. 1,” the pair go acoustic, alternating on tricky, labyrinthine leads and then exploring Flamenco flavors on the latter with great finesse and smiles on their faces.

A somewhat flabby and uncertain medley of “Peace on Earth/A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall/Stairway to Heaven/Our Prayer/SOCC” offers a tribute to the likes of Dylan and Led Zeppelin and sees Santana and McLaughlin reeling off interesting and clever leads in a joyful and playful manner. None of it, however, prepares the uninitiated for the strange and wonderful free-form jazz anarchy of “Vuelto Abajo” and “Vashkar,” where Santana exits and lets McLaughlin, fiery drum engine Cindy Blackman and the rest of these sonic explorers go off on their own crazy adventures through these works from Tony Williams’ Lifetime, each one taking a separate, inaccessible and seemingly incongruous route to coalesce at a safe house of insurgent, kinetic energy.

The bluesy cooking of “Downstairs” grounds McLaughlin and Santana, while “Let Us go into the House of the Lord” finds them basking in the luminous glow of a heavenly, meditative worship, but that’s as comfortable as they get. “Venus/Upper Egypt” is all frenzied jazz action, and they bring out, in stark relief, the industrious funk grooves of “Black Satin,” off Davis’ 1972 On the Corner release, almost drowning it in puddles of sweat, as McLaughlin interjects alien shapes and figures here and there that are not only accepted, but encouraged.

Professionally shot to capture the triumphant and celebratory mood of the show, while also making sure to pay undivided attention to the skilled and imaginative playing of all the actors – not just the two main characters – “Invitation to Illumination – Live at Montreux 2011,” with its diverse and unpredictable set list, only adds to the revered legacies of both artists. As he told the attendees, all Santana and company wanted to do was touch their hearts that night. Cynics might scoff, but there is precious little of that going on these days, and what Santana and McLaughlin were able to accomplish at Montreux suggests they might want to do this more often.

– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Vista Chino – Peace

Vista Chino – Peace

Napalm Records

All Access Review: A-

Vista Chino - Peace 2013

The names have been changed to protect … well, the brand. After stoner-metal giants Kyuss called it a day in 1995, the group’s following grew exponentially and calls for a reunion grew louder and louder as the years passed.

In 2011, John Garcia, Brant Bjork and Nick Oliveri toured as Kyuss Lives! Conspicuous by his absence, Josh Homme, having long ago moved on to Queens of the Stone Age, wanted no part of the much-anticipated reunion. More than that, however, he didn’t want anybody else using the Kyuss name either, and he, along with another former member, Scott Reeder, set in motion legal action to stop them from using it. Evidently, Homme was going out of his way to make damn sure this version didn’t tarnish the Kyuss legacy with some half-baked cash-grabbing nonsense that failed to include him.

Being the hardy desert folk they are, Garcia and Bjork, who played with Sabbath-influenced, muscle-car fanatics Fu Manchu for many years, have decided to carry on under a new name. Say hello to Vista Chino. Tuning down their guitars to deeply resonant levels, while still allowing shape-shifting melodies to drift in and out of a fuzz-toned haze, Vista Chino concocts a murky and strangely intoxicating brew on the musical sweat lodge that is the surging Peace, with the grumbling malevolence and guitar witchcraft of “Dragona Dragona” casting a particularly irresistible doom-laden spell.

Crispy around the edges, Peace is not the work of burnouts living off their past reputations, even if the record’s dank atmosphere is as smoky and close as any seedy drug house. A swirling maelstrom of burrowing, evil guitars, pummeling drums and splashing cymbals, rumbling rhythms and Garcia’s strong, illuminating vocals cutting through the sonic fog, Peace is thick, heady stuff, indeed, but it’s not exactly pretty.

Insidiously infectious and utterly compelling, “Adara” and “As You Wish” ride on hypnotic, writhing movements and grimy riffs into dark, scary places, while the dirty bomb of distortion known as “Planets 1 &2” drives Hawkwind’s space-rock aesthetic down to bad interplanetary neighborhoods and slides into a slow-motion slipstream that drowns all who follow it there in sludge and bong resin. There’s a bluesy feel to Peace that is inescapable, but it’s a dangerous, rough-and-tumble mutation of Cream’s heavy psychedelic visions, as the jazzy “Dark and Lovely” swings and tunnels ever deeper into a disordered mind, its grooves becoming more engorged as every second passes.

It all leads up to the tempest-tossed, mythic 13:25 closer “Acidize … the Gambling Moose,” a gloomy, gathering blues-rock storm whose immense winds blow trash and paper all over a lonely highway, some of it getting stuck in a dead tree’s spindly branches. Portending doom, it’s like a soundtrack for a Day of the Dead march in Mexico, as Vista Chino slows to a seductive crawl and a guitar solo pierces the gloaming of a truly evil-sounding love song. Vista Chino’s fevered imagination has finally gotten the best of them in the most surprising and interesting ways. They let songs and arrangements unfold organically, whereas Queens of the Stone Age seems hell-bent on making incongruous ideas fit, even though they never will. Vista Chino has its revenge. http://www.napalmrecords.com/

– Peter Lindblad 

CD Review: Bl'ast! – Blood!

CD Review: Bl’ast! – Blood!

Southern Lord

All Access Rating: A-

Bl'ast! - Blood! 2013

As was made abundantly clear while waxing nostalgic about Sound City in his feel-good documentary film about the place, Dave Grohl plans to put the famed studio’s grand old Neve console – the one that brought to life the magic of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors and Nirvana’s Nevermind – to good use.

Breathing new life into some long-lost vintage master tapes of Santa Cruz hardcore heroes Bl’ast was one of his first orders of business, and he takes a flamethrower to material that was already highly flammable, his remastering and mixing work enhancing the already concentrated violence and red-eyed fury of these unpredictable punk-rock seizures. And he’s just a bit player in this drama, as was William DuVall – now plying his trade with Alice in Chains.

Blood! is reportedly the only document of DuVall making sweet fiery hardcore with Bl’ast. Industrious rhythms and rampaging guitars that are thicker and wider than one would expect are what cause the sudden impact of Blood!, but don’t mistake activity for a lack of musicality. Still, raw power and unbridled fury course through its veins, as the aptly titled Blood! packs enough explosives into these combustible tracks to attract the unwanted attention of the ATF. From the first bruising, urgent rumblings and building momentum of “Only Time Will Tell” to the sharp turns negotiated throughout the blazing “Something Beyond,” the high-octane action of Blood! is breathtakingly fast, aggressive and relentless.

Even while Bl’ast cultivates a resonant, animalistic growl in guitar tone, something most old punks cared nothing about, on Blood! they engage in dizzying shifts of dynamics in “Ssshhh,” “Sometimes” and “Winding Down” while driving impossibly fast, but never recklessly, as they brake and stomp on the accelerator through the stop-start traffic of “Sequel.” Knowing exactly what direction they want to go, Bl’ast feverishly tears through the 1:38 “Poison” – tied for the shortest song on Blood! – as if they have three strikes against them and they’re being chased by California cops, but they never seem desperate or self-destructive.

Then again, jail might be preferable to the unsettling psychology of “Your Eyes,” made even more deliciously disturbing by heavy, almost sludgy, metallic riffs that rise up and look to the heavens for deliverance. If Minor Threat took more of a liking to Black Sabbath and explored slightly longer forms and staged more angular sonic ambushes, all while maintaining its muscular torque, they might have made the tempestuous, biting and brawny Blood! As it is, there are only a few hardcore acts with this kind of DNA, Black Flag being one of them. If Henry Rollins needs a transfusion, he might want to give Bl’ast – these raging sonic contortionists of the highest caliber – a call. http://www.southernlord.com/

– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Sammy Hagar – Sammy Hagar & Friends

CD Review: Sammy Hagar – Sammy Hagar & Friends

Frontiers Records

All Access Review: B-

Sammy Hagar - Sammy Hagar & Friends 2013

The Van Halen brothers, Eddie and Alex, are reportedly not too fond of their old band mate SammyHagar. A tell-all biography that shines a not-so-flattering light on certain unsavory aspects of their time together in Van Halen tends to have that effect, although to be fair, their relationship was frosty well before “Red: My Uncensored Life in Rock” saw the light of day.

That said, the affable Hagar is not without friends, as the new album of hard-rocking, bluesy, country-flavored collaborations Sammy Hagar & Friends points out. Taj Mahal, Kid Rock, Nancy Wilson of Heart, Journey’s Neal Schon, Ronnie Dunn and Toby Keith, Montrose pals Denny Carmassi and Bill Church, and, of course, his boys in Chickenfoot – the cast is a who’s who of musical heavyweights. In typically raucous and rowdy fashion, Hagar presides over what should be a 10-song soundtrack for a week-long drunken bender, but by the end, there’s a sense that the hangover has come early, thanks to some strangely reinterpreted covers and an overall sense of malaise.

An uneven set of ballsy, rough-and-tumble, metal-tinged originals like “Knockdown Dragout” and the slow-burning, fuzz-toned “Not Going Down,” penned by Jay Buchanan of the Rival Sons, Sammy Hagar & Friends also features the red-hot, tires-squealing, rock ‘n’ roll thrill ride “Bad on Fords and Chevrolets” – a Hagar-Dunn duet that drives recklessly like a bootlegger being chased through gravelly back roads by the Feds. By far the most exciting and infectious track on Sammy Hagar & Friends, Jerry Lee Lewis would approve of it and probably join in, although he might not be so complimentary towards the lazy, lethargic and surprisingly stiff treatment of “Margaritaville” Sammy and company sleep through here.

Given his taste for tequila and fondness for the laid-back island fun, everyone knew the day would come when Hagar would try his hand at “Margaritaville,” and it’s an utter failure, almost completely devoid of any of the sunny charm of Jimmy Buffett’s version. Turning Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” into a mid-tempo blues holy roller – complete with soulful backing singers – might not seem like such a bad idea, but in execution, it seems awkwardly arranged and anything but a religious experience, sucking the hypnotic creepiness out of the original version and transforming it into a bland, insipid Vegas-style lounge number, instead of a fiery, organic sermon. Not all of the covers chosen by Hagar are treated so shabbily, as Bob Seger’s “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” is a vibrant revival tailor-made for his loud monster-truck vocal pipes.

“Father Sun” and “Winding Down” come off as much more inspired works, with the bright mandolin and acoustic guitar strumming of the former drenched in Southern down-home charm and the slinky slide-guitar meanness of the latter slipping and sliding around a lyrical laundry list of societal and political ills. Recorded live in the studio, the brawny, crawling “Going Down” finds Hagar, Schon, Michael Anthony and Chad Smith grinding and tenderizing the song’s body with bruising rhythmic blows, making a big drill out of it that could tunnel through bedrock.

Sammy Hagar & Friends runs hot and cold, its country-pop warmth and heavy rock statements made all the more powerful through the instrumental prowess of articulate players like Schon and Joe Satriani, even if they feel like as if they’re saving themselves for something for more challenging than this off-the-cuff experience. What should be a colorful rock ‘n’ roll fiesta has too many grey spaces, too many periods of lifeless fist-shaking at enemies real or imagined that lack real conviction. When Hagar should be the cheery drunk wearing a lampshade on his head, he expresses halfhearted defiance, as if the beating he’s taken over the years by faceless critics has finally gotten to him. For once, the shaggy-haired Hagar shies away from being the life of the party, and that grinning, laughing personality of his is missed. http://www.frontiers.it/
– Peter Lindblad

DVD Review: Rainbow – Black Masquerade

DVD Review: Rainbow – Black Masquerade

Eagle Rock Entertainment

All Access Review: B+

Rainbow - Black Masquerade 2013

Ritchie Blackmore was done with Deep Purple. That old bugaboo “creative differences” had reared its ugly head again, as the legendary guitarist had it out once more with singer Ian Gillan, who was brought back for the band’s 25^th anniversary. In 1993, Blackmore walked out, leaving abruptly during a show in Helsinki, Finland.

The parting was not such sweet sorrow for either side, and Blackmore spent little time mourning the divorce. In 1993, he revived Rainbow, a project that had been dormant since 1984. To bring Rainbow back to life, he turned to a rag-tag band of spunky young upstarts, including singer Doogie White, his new collaborator. Hardly a blip on the radar, they stuck around barely long enough to record 1995’s under-appreciated Stranger in All of Us LP – a dark, moody record of traditional melodic heavy metal with flourishes of classical music bombast – and do some touring before Blackmore threw himself into medieval and Renaissance music full-time and turned his back on hard rock.

Largely forgotten by history, this incarnation of Rainbow deserves a reassessment, and it starts with “Black Masquerade,” a rousing live effort unearthed by Eagle Rock Entertainment now available now as a two-CD set, DVD or in digital video and audio formats. Documenting a lively performance in Dusseldorf, Germany, for that country’s “Rockpalast” TV series, “Black Masquerade” is a colorfully shot and thunderously loud powder keg of impressive musicianship and youthful hunger.

Seeing Blackmore – more restrained physically as he shuns the wild histrionics of his gloriously unhinged past – reel off a dazzling array of ruthlessly efficient, full-throttle riffs, searing leads and fleet-fingered arpeggios that he expertly untangles with ease is one thing, but keyboardist Paul Morris is a revelation, combining the vivid coloring and propulsive thrust of Jon Lord with Keith Emerson’s classically influenced gymnastics. The long solo Morris takes during the show is an awakening, creatively playful and athletic but never veering off the intricate course he has set.

More than the sum of its disparate, if well-arranged, parts, the collective Rainbow rides roughshod through a combustible mix of tracks from Stranger in All of Us and classics from Blackmore’s Deep Purple days and earlier Rainbow treasures, charging into pulse-pounding versions of “Spotlight Kid,” “Man on a Silver Mountain,” “Since You’ve Been Gone,” “Burn” and a raucous “Long Live Rock ‘N’ Roll/Black Night” medley with reckless abandon and fierce energy. It’s as if they know their time together is going to be brief, so they let it all hang out.

And while the material off Stranger in Us All has less character and meat on the bone than past Rainbow efforts, it does shine on “Black Masquerade,” as Rainbow speeds into the night of the song “Black Masquerade” without brakes and takes a magic carpet ride through the exotic Middle Eastern terrain of the sweeping epic known as “Ariel.” Even more mysterious and ominous, “Hunting Humans (Insatiable)” also comes off here as a cinematic affair, the flowing drama of it heightened by White’s powerful, evocative vocals as it segues into Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” – one of the many classical music ambushes found throughout “Black Masquerade.” White’s personality is infectious, and he is a fine master of ceremonies, displaying charm and a masculine stage presence that almost matches the testosterone levels of Chuck Burgi’s barn-burning drum solo. 

Where “Black Masquerade” the DVD falls short is in its extras – simply put, there are none, aside from the enthusiastic, if overly hyperbolic, tribute written by Jeff Katz. A little visual history lesson on the life and quick death of this particular unit in the form of interviews with key players or a narrated featurette would be a welcome addition. Otherwise, even though this Rainbow lived its own life apart from other more celebrated lineups featuring Ronnie James Dio, Graham Bonnet or Joe Lynn Turner that waged rock ‘n’ roll warfare under the same banner, they come off as something of a cover band – albeit it a great one with Blackmore on guitar. It’s as if they were an imitation that had its run and could not create its own identity. Therefore, it must never be spoken of again.

That’s a shame, because as this explosive, forceful and engaging outing illustrates so effectively, Blackmore might have been well-served to keep forging ahead with this group, even if it’s not the most beloved version of the band.

– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Humble Pie – Performance: Rockin' the Fillmore – The Complete Recordings

CD Review: Humble Pie – Performance: Rockin’ the Fillmore – The Complete Recordings

Omnivore Recordings

All Access Rating: A

Humble Pie - Performance: Rockin' the
Fillmore - The Complete Recordings

Humble Pie wanted to play the Fillmore East as often as they could, and who could blame them? As drummer Jerry Shirley says in Tim Cohen’s revelatory liner notes for Performance: Rockin’ the Fillmore – The Complete Recordings, the lavish and expansive new re-packaging of Pie’s much-lauded 1971 breakthrough double-live album, “They had the best sound, the best lights, the best seating – everything about the place was absolutely fabulous.”

Audiences there were notoriously tough to please, but Humble Pie almost always had them eating out of their hand, as guitarist Peter Frampton remembers. Also quoted by Cohen for this absolutely staggering release, Frampton explained, “They either loved you or hated you; there was no in-between. And they loved the Pie, so whenever we played there, we went down remarkably well, and the response got bigger and bigger each time.”

Still in search of that bust-out smash-hit recording that would serve as some sort of validation for a super group so much was expected from when they formed in 1969, Humble Pie and their brain trust at Premier Talent Agency figured a concert album might do the trick. After all, Humble Pie was far from dull onstage, playing with an insatiable fire in the belly and a supremely confident swagger from the very start.

Merging the sublime talents of ex-Small Faces singer and rhythm guitarist Steve Marriott – he of the larger-than-life personality and gloriously ragged wail – and a shit-hot upstart in Frampton with those of former Spooky Tooth bassist Greg Ridley and young drummer Jerry Shirley, Humble Pie was a hot-wired hard-rock outfit onstage, cocksure of their abilities and exceedingly comfortable in their own blues smeared skin. Disappointing sales from four albums and a handful of singles indicated that not everyone was getting the message. It was time to try something different.

So, Pie set up for two nights of four sold-out shows at the fabled venue on May 28 and 29, 1971 that would be recorded for Performance – only a few hearty selections from each were poached for the original release. The headliner was Lee Michaels, but Pie was the main draw. Everybody knew it. And Pie did not disappoint, giving their well-chosen cache of covers and a smattering of originals a sweaty, greased-up workout that showcased the raw energy and wild-eyed joy that poured out of their souls when they were giving it their all.

Every one of those smoldering Fillmore East sets are included in Performance: Rockin’ the Fillmore – The Complete Recordings in their entirety, unedited and sequenced just as they happened. Because of that, the set lists of all four discs are almost identical, but Pie’s raucous and reverent treatment of each song differs in such subtle and interesting ways that repetition never leads to boredom. With Frampton and Shirley overseeing the mixing, quality assurance was not an issue. The sound is pure and warm. Nothing is muffled or meek in any way, and there’s not a hint of artificiality to be found anywhere – the gritty nastiness of their prowling version of Ida Cox’s “Four Day Creep” comes off as positively carnal every time, while the seamy, stomping blues of “I’m Ready” happily wallows in its sinful nature, sometimes coming off edgy and mean and at other times rather fun and good-humored. Their slow-cooked goodness is to be savored.

Discs 1 and 3 comprise the rousing first shows from both days, and the sets lists are similar – with one exception, as the May 29 opening performance closed with a lusty take on “Stone Cold Fever” that was included on the original release of Performance, while the May 28 date has a stormy conclusion, as Pie tenaciously rips and tears through “I Don’t Need No Doctor” with righteous fury. More feverish and humid, the other versions of “I Don’t Need No Doctor” that close Discs 2and 4, which include the second shows of both days, respectively, are looser and more engaging but swing just as hard.

Though volatile at times, as evidenced by Frampton’s dissatisfaction with his shrinking role in the band and his departure prior to Performance’s initial release, Pie had an organic chemistry that was not just logical, but also transcendent and instinctual. Aside from the searing leads and lovably dirty tones, there is a preternatural interaction between Frampton and Marriott that is fascinating to witness, as the play off each other so melodically and with such ease of motion in extended jams on “I Walk on Gilded Splinters,” the old Dr. John number revived by Pie for each show that go on for more than 26 minutes. They never let precision get in the way of feeling and emotion, and when one takes a left turn, the other meets up with him at the crossroads, sometimes taking an alternate, and just as intriguing, route that parallels that of his partner but is altogether different, before they come together again and drive like bats out of hell.

All the while, Shirley and Ridley are tending their own gardens, growing a rich variety of intoxicating drum patterns and cultivating strong bass lines to form a wonderful musical root system. And when the sunny disposition of Ray Charles’s “Hallelujah (I Love Her So)” shines through hazy windows of distorted guitar, smiles appear. Omnivore Recordings has connected us again to that special quality Humble Pie had in concert settings that shook people out of their doldrums and really communicated with them – the long rambling dialogues sung by Marriott during quiet moments creating a sort of connection with audiences that someone who buys a round for the bar might engender, as Frampton’s guitar echoes his lively, jovial toasts and emotional entreaties with clear phrasing that practically beams its approval.

For all of Pie’s esteemed instrumental chops, they valued simplicity and the power of a well-crafted song, but they took them to places their authors never dreamed of, adding more color and sometimes turning them completely inside-out – never disrespecting the originators’ vision and intent. And on Performance: Rockin’ the Fillmore – the Complete Recordings, Pie displays the spontaneity and daring musicianship that made them so electrifying. This collection proves you can never have too much Pie.

– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Ministry – From Beer to Eternity

CD Review: Ministry – From Beer to Eternity

AFM Records

All Access Rating: A-

Ministry - From Beer to Eternity 2013

Al Jourgensen is, in a sense, taking old Betsy out to the woods to put a bullet in her brain. It seems Ministry, the outlaw gang of trailblazing industrial-metal miscreants he’s fronted for years, has outlived its usefulness and will now be stripped for parts. Maybe Nine Inch Nails can use a drum machine.

It’s a terribly sad time for industrial music, actually, as the AFM Records release From Beer to Eternity, reported to be Ministry’s last album, was finished in the aftermath of guitar Mike Scaccia’s death, having collapsed onstage with his old mates in Rigor Mortis late last December. With a heavy heart, Jourgensen threw himself into his work, crafting and honing material Ministry had already worked up in a spate of intense creativity until this massive sonic weaponry was ready to be launched. And here it is, Ministry’s last will and testament, and what does Jourgensen leave to his followers? These words of wisdom: “Enjoy the Quiet.”

A refreshing wall of watery white noise washes over whoever is still listening by the time the closing track to the multi-layered, ferociously opinionated From Beer to Eternity comes on and when it’s over, Jourgensen welcomes the arrival of silence. What comes before it is anything but tranquil, thanks to a cacophony of rampaging metal riffs and a wild thicket of clashing sounds both human and synthetic, as television news clips mingle with alien blips and snorts. Glitchy electronica and clanking factory noises greet those who dare to enter Jourgensen’s tongue-in-cheek “Hail to His Majesty (Peasants)” and are subjected to his hoary invitations to perform oral sex on him, as grimy, heaving guitars swing dangerously about. He certainly has a way with words, doesn’t he?

Never one to hold his tongue, Jourgensen does turn serious on the growling anti-war essay “Permawar,” which begins life as a grim, dark dirge and gradually takes on a more urgent tone, casting a wide swath of UV-powered vocals and fluorescent guitars over troubled lands. A grinding, thrashing tantrum, the torturous “Perfect Storm” predicts an apocalypse of Biblical proportions if something isn’t done about global warming, where a wiser “Lesson Unlearned” imbibes deep soul and hard funk grooves before dipping them in a wah-wah acid bath full of six-string razors. He has a lot of tricks up his sleeve.

Gleefully overloading the senses, as he’s done so often with Ministry, Jourgensen makes heads spin on the surrealistic mash-up “The Horror” – which segues out of his fast and furious Fox News diatribe “Fairly Unbalanced” – and the speed-metal crash site that is “Side Fx Includes Mikey’s Middle Finger (TV 4).” And just when you think he’s all out of ideas, in walks the moody, echoing dub experiment “Thanx but No Thanx,” which attacks bigots of all stripes over a bubbling bass line and eventually shifts into a driving metal opus that rides mean, angry riffage into that black hole known as the “American Dream.”

From Beer to Eternity is, not surprisingly, a dark record, and the booklet that accompanies it, with the disturbing portraits of beautifully feral women representing each of the Seven Deadly Sins, certainly doesn’t lighten the mood. That said, there’s no shortage of funny moments on From Beer to Eternity, and with a title like that, he’s not exactly moping over Ministry’s passing.

Seeing as this is Ministry’s last goodbye, Jourgensen is playfully using every tool at his disposal. That everything-but-the-kitchen-sink approach has worked so well for him in the past. Mostly, these are well-plotted tracks, diverse and thoroughly engrossing; however, there are moments when the parts don’t always fit together as seamlessly as one would hope. Worse yet, there are periods of drifting and stagnation in “Side Fx,” and really, “Hail to His Majesty” could have been thrown away entirely, even if it’s childish humor makes you chuckle – not that Jourgensen cares one jot for those who don’t.

So laugh along with Ministry, or cry at the loss of Scaccia or the dire warnings Jourgensen issues here. Ministry has gone out in a blaze of glory, giving the world one last powerful fix, and they will be missed. All stories need a final chapter, and this is Ministry’s, so in that way, From Beer to Eternity is essential, even if Jourgensen’s occasional lack of seriousness indicates otherwise.

 – Peter Lindblad