Deep Purple to release new studio album in April

Title has yet to be determined

Deep Purple - Rapture of the Deep

Deep Purple isn’t sitting around moping about another snub from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. On April 30, 2013, the veteran proto-metal masters will release their first studio album in the U.S. since Rapture of the Deep.

As yet, the album does not have a title, although Deep Purple singer Ian Gillan has revealed a few working song titles, including “Out of Hands,” “Uncommon Man,” and “Hell to Pay.”

“The title of our new album is still a question mark to all of us … we have recorded a new album, and it’s a fantastic collection of songs,” says Gillan. “At the moment that’s the only affirmative point we can offer.”

Featuring brand new studio material, the album was recorded and mixed in Nashville with celebrated producer Bob Ezrin, who has worked with the likes of Pink Floyd and Alice Cooper, among others. Early word is that the record is mix of classic ‘70s Deep Purple with a progressive attitude and modern production.

These days, Deep Purple’s record company is earMUSIC, which plans on releasing more details about the new album when they become available on a dedicated website where all band members will be able to post and interact with fans: www.deeppurple2013.com.

CD Review: U.D.O. - Live in Sofia

CD Review: U.D.O. - Live in Sofia

AFM Records

All Access Review: A

U.D.O. - Live in Sofia 2012

Any examination of Udo Dirkschneider’s metal heart would have to conclude that it’s as healthy as it was a quarter of a century ago, when he started his titanic post-Accept project U.D.O. Pumping furiously, even after all these years, it is the engine that still drives U.D.O., and when the band that bears his name storms the capitol of Bulgaria on the occasion of this concert recording, it seems as if it could explode from his barrel chest at any second – not that such a calamity would silence the indestructible Udo, still one of the most electrifying frontmen metal has ever seen or heard.

Unwilling to concede the upper hand to his former band, even with the roll Wolf Hoffmann and the boys have been on of late, releasing not one, but two nearly flawless, riff-heavy mazes of old-school metal, U.D.O. stakes its claim as Germany’s most potent power-metal force with a relentless, devastatingly heavy double CD/DVD live package, titled Live in Sofia, that celebrates the band’s 25^th anniversary. Initiating the launch sequence of a massive U.D.O. reissue campaign slated for 2013, Live in Sofia is a visceral, thrilling document, enlivened by a roaring crowd lending its full-throated support and unified chants to what is an absolutely ferocious performance from U.D.O. Intense and breathtaking from the first note, Live in Sofia only adds to the fiery mythology of Udo, the well-chosen, 23-track playlist working as a survey of the veteran singer’s long and storied career, its choice of songs running the gamut of Accept classics and U.D.O.’s most flammable material.

Muscles clenched and veins popping, as he seethes with rage and emits spine-tingling screams and animalistic growls, Udo means business every time he opens his mouth, spearheading this invasion of overwhelming sonic weaponry. Setting the attack-dog riffs of lid-lifter “Rev-Raptor” on an audience eager to riot, U.D.O. then rolls into an inferno of guitars in “Dominator,” which dies out just before the shark-like thrashing of “Thunderball” begins and the snarling, sinister menace of the slow-burning “Leatherhead” grows hot – Udo prowling through the thrilling mob violence of each track like a hungry predator. And amazingly, we’re only four songs in, with such adrenaline-fueled action as the rampaging “Break the Rules” and “Two Faced Woman” – both of them boasting tight, clawing hooks – still to come.

A warrior for traditional metal, dressed in his familiar military fatigues, Udo tips his cap to Accept’s glory days by whipping his renegade charges through grinding, writhing versions of “Metal Heart” and 11:10 of the ubiquitous rock-and-roll monolith “Balls to the Wall” – this after sharpening their knives in “Screaming for a Love – Bite,” a prickly nugget of pop-metal poison ivy. Udo can’t escape his past, but then again, why would he want to?

As with U.D.O.’s “Vendetta” and “Man and Machine,” the surging dynamics and crushing power chords of Accept’s “Princess of the Dawn,” co-opted at Sofia by a tighter-than-leather U.D.O., testify to the rugged, fierce instrumental prowess of both bands. On the other hand, the darkly melodic “I Give as Good I Get,” the dramatic sweep of “The Bogeyman” and Stefan Kaufmann’s unexpectedly atmospheric electrical storm “Kokopelli” – basically, 11:27 of interesting and diverse guitar soloing – speak to U.D.O.’s versatile musicianship. Passion and precision are U.D.O.’s calling cards, and Live in Sofia is the kind of controlled burn that U.D.O. excels at. There’s nothing excessive about Live in Sofia. Trimmed of fat, parts are played with calculating brutality, and yet is it fair to call U.D.O. regimented? Maybe that’s the right word after all, although there seems to be a mandate for the pack of rabid dogs known as Kaufmann, Igor Gianola (guitar), Fitty Wienhold (bass) and Francesco Jovino (drums) to make their own statements as vociferously as they can, even as they work up a frothing lather as a lean, mean unit. Udo would accept nothing less.

-            Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Killing Joke - Live at Hammersmith Apollo

CD Review: Killing Joke - Live at Hammersmith Apollo

Four Worlds USA

All Access Review: A

Killing Joke - Live at Hammersmith Apollo 2012

Jaz Coleman is lucky that his Killing Joke co-conspirators didn’t shoot him for desertion. Late this summer, on the eve of the industrial metal/post-punk agitators’ tour with The Cult and The Mission, Coleman went missing, leaving the rest of Killing Joke wondering just what the hell happened to him. Then, there were the blog posts, where Coleman is alleged to have effectively taken a flamethrower – figuratively speaking – to both outfits in writings that can charitably be described as “derisive” at best and downright “hostile” at worst, announcing, without his band mates’ consent, that Killing Joke wasn’t going on the road with those stiffs. The Cult and The Mission would have to forge ahead without them, much to Coleman’s delight … or was it?

As it turned out, the enigmatic Coleman was alive and well, wandering like a nomad in the Western Sahara – much like David Carradine in “Kung Fu” – working on new solo material and a book. He has since denied posting those comments and pledged to ferret out the imposter, although anybody expecting to ever see a triple bill with these three acts again should probably have their heads examined. Fortunately, Coleman, who’s done this sort of thing before, having fled to Iceland in the early ‘80s when he thought the apocalypse was nigh, was present and accounted the night of this raging Killing Joke performance recorded for Live at Hammersmith Apollo, released in October by Four Worlds USA.

Shaking his fist at totalitarian governments, greedy banks and an overpopulated, apathetic world that is consuming its natural resources at an alarming rate while being seduced by the false promises of technology, Coleman proves himself a dangerous and formidable insurrectionist, his serrated vocals cutting through the gloom and volatility of Killing Joke’s atmospheric synthesizers, rumbling bass and drums and coils of razor-wire guitars with ease. Whether they are brutally beating “Wardance,” the stomping “This World Hell,” or the racing “Asteroid” to a bloody pulp with abrasive, bare-knuckled metallic riffs and pummeling rhythms, or urgently steering a battered vessel of melody through the stormy, roiling seas and beautiful chaos of the distress call “Absolute Dissent” – introduced by Coleman screaming, “I don’t believe in a micro-chip world!” – Killing Joke is edgy and explosive on this glorious occasion, evidently an anniversary for the band.

Throughout their 30-year history, Killing Joke has always trafficked in sounds that are ominous and fierce, and the version of “Pssyche” on this record, with its hard-charging riffs and desperate aggression, is as visceral as it gets. But, Killing Joke is just getting warmed up. With its strong undercurrent of dark energy and its prison riot chorus, “Depth Charge” is a mean bull that sees nothing but red, circling and sizing up whatever matador is stupid enough to challenge it. Growing more and more menacing with every riff, the tension builds to almost unbearable intensity in “The Wait” and “Great Cull,” these angry, gathering swarms of bounding bass lines and scything guitars cycling around and around in some demented game of tether ball, as Killing Joke’s original lineup of Coleman, guitar terrorist Kevin “Geordie” Walker, Martin “Youth” Glover and Paul Ferguson make the most rancorous and uncompromising, yet utterly compelling, racket together.

And then, just when it seems that Killing Joke is unable to extricate itself from this wild mosh pit of sound, they turn moody and strange, with the otherworldly, echoing dub-infused phantom “Ghosts” haunting this particular chapel and the clean lines and synth waves of “Fresh Fever” resurrecting the Dark Wave flourishes of ‘80s contemporaries Echo & the Bunnymen. In this live setting, however, it’s the most combustible hits, like the swirling, dizzying rush of “Eighties” and the sprawling “Pandemonium” that closes out this two-disc set, that win the day, and Killing Joke’s eschewing of its more electronic, dance-oriented material for the heated, gothic hard rock that dominates this smoking furnace of a playlist is a wise choice.

Before introducing that final stab that kills off Live at Hammersmith Apollo, Coleman expresses his profound love and admiration for the three men who’ve joined him on this journey through the bleak ruins of civilization. Hopefully, they’ve forgiven him for his unscheduled walkabout, and there will be more Killing Joke releases like 2010’s masterstroke Absolute Dissent, from which quite a bit of Live at Hammersmith Apollo is drawn. Here’s to you, Jaz. Rock and roll needs your intelligence and unpredictable personality more than ever.

-  Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Thin Lizzy - Live in London 2011

Thin Lizzy

Live in London 2011

Four Worlds USA

All Access Review: B+

Thin Lizzy- Live in London 2011

In the end it doesn’t really matter how much of Live and Dangerous was actually recorded live, as it will forever be considered the definitive Thin Lizzy concert album. Harnessing the very life force of front man Phil Lynott, that wild Irish artist with the “live free or die” ethos who threw his heart and soul into every lyric he penned, that record had an electricity and a galvanizing spirit to it that made sparks fly. Without the charismatic Lynott leading the charge, having died in 1986, leaving surviving band members to battle over the rights to the Thin Lizzy name, Live in London 2011 cannot possibly hope to win over the hearts and minds of those who feel that a Lizzy without Lynott is, at best, a pale imitation of the original.

And as for any comparisons to Live and Dangerous, the phrase “apples and oranges” comes to mind, especially as the Thin Lizzy of this recording is, for all intents and purposes, little more than a tribute band – even if, as recent press reports have indicated, they do end up making an album of all new material under a different moniker, out of respect for Lynott. For all of its accolades, there’s been a great deal of controversy over what parts of Live and Dangerous were overdubbed, with producer Tony Visconti and guitarist Brian Robertson espousing their own versions of the truth over the years. Live in London 2011, one of the really expansive and sonically impressive Concert Live Series releases from Four Worlds, won’t spark any controversy of that sort, being a complete and unabridged document of a modern-day Thin Lizzy giving a packed London Hammersmith house everything they have in a rousing, workman-like performance that honors the memory of its fallen leader.  

Led by Scott Gorham, who along with Brian Robertson sculpted Thin Lizzy’s signature “twin lead guitar” sound, this version of Lizzy – featuring Brian Downey back on drums, singer Ricky Warwick, Marco Mendoza on bass, longtime keyboardist Darren Wharton, and Def Leppard’s Vivian Campbell on guitar – gallops and slashes its way through the bruising, saber-rattling “Emerald” and the apocalyptic imagery of “Angel of Death,” after barely surviving the frenzied fray of the bruising “Massacre.” Not all fire and brimstone, Live in London 2011 also finds Lizzy mining more melodic – though still gritty and as tough as London’s East End – territory on rough-and-tumble renderings of “Wild One” and “Waiting for an Alibi,” and a more fragile-hearted reading of the bluesy, neon-lit ballad “Still in Love with You.”

Ballads, however, are a rarity on Live in London 2011, with Lizzy intent on riding this horse hard and putting it up wet, as the hard funk treatment given to “Sha La La La” – with Mendoza’s bass sounding particularly rubbery and mean – and “Bad Reputation” indicate. Ballsy and full of venom, the surging “Jailbreak,” with its familiar biting riffs and sure hooks holding you in their clutches, runs at a brisk pace, and the building momentum of “Cowboy Song” is electrifying, that reliable old high-flying guitar solo rocketing to the moon as it always has, leading into a somewhat flaccid “Boys Are Back in Town.”

Occasionally, the energy lags, Warwick – though possessing a commanding voice – hits some flat notes and the mix, while mostly superb, giving each instrument good definition and great power, isn’t always perfect – there are times when some of the guitar solos seem distant and fade into the background. Regardless, a celebratory atmosphere pervades Live in London 2011, as Warwick stops to toast the dear, departed Lynott often, and Gorham and Campbell sync up on dual-guitar weavings that couldn’t be more exquisite, while also exchanging searing, majestic leads that leave sonic brands on your skin. Best of all, Live in London 2011 is one of those concert albums that makes you feel as if you were standing in the frongt row – the in-between song banter coming through loud and clear – during a rollicking, if not entirely flawless, performance, and for those who weren’t there, or who haven’t experienced the new millennium Thin Lizzy for themselves, this might just be a good substitute for the real thing.

-            Peter Lindblad

Sebastian Bach readies new DVD/live CD package

Former Skid Row singer eyes spring release for ABachalypse Now

Sebastian Bach 2012

One of the wildest front men in heavy metal history simply loves the smell of napalm in the morning, and we’ll all get a good whiff of it on the upcoming Sebastian Bach DVD/live CD package that bears the title ABachalypse Now.

Due out on Frontiers Records in spring of 2013, this journey into Bach’s heart of darkness will include never-before-seen footage from Bach’s fiery performances at this year’s GrasPop Festival in Belgium and his Hellfest set from France, plus the fully remixed and remastered Club Nokia show from Los Angeles that was broadcast on AXS TV this fall. A full track listing and table of contents for the release has yet to be finalized.

“I am so excited for all of you to witness and experience ABachalypse Now,” says Bach. “We have included three recent concerts and the footage is totally kickass! It’s remixed and remastered for full audio and video quality. The performances and energy of the crowds are killer throughout the DVD and you really feel like you are at the shows. Prepare yourselves for the coming ABachalypse – now!”

Sure to feature tracks of his latest album, Kicking & Screaming, this collection will certainly have a fresh feel to it, since the concert footage and audio is culled from very recent performances. Kicking & Screaming was produced by Bob Marlette, known also for his work with Black Sabbath, Shinedown, Atreyu, and Filter. The album, which debuted in the Top 75 of the Billboard Top 200, received strong reviews, with Outburn stating, “Sebastian Bach delivers a balls out gang of mountainous hooks, titanic grooves and straight down the middle hard rock", and Revolver gushing, “Bach's voice is in particularly fine form on Kicking & Screaming, boasting more color and range than most...” Revolver went one step further in naming Bach one of the 100 greatest living rock stars.

Sebastian Bach has sold in excess of 20 million records worldwide as lead singer with his former band, Skid Row and as a solo artist. Far from just being a multi-platinum recording artist, the singer/songwriter/actor/entertainer has expanded his career over the past decade to include episodic television with a 5-season recurring role on the CW's hit series "Gilmore Girls", starring roles on Broadway ("Jekyll & Hyde", "The Rocky Horror Picture Show") and national touring companies ("Jesus Chris Superstar"), and has appeared regularly on MTV and VH1.

Neal Schon picks Santana over Clapton

Journey guitarist explains how he almost joined Derek and the Dominos

By Peter Lindblad

Neal Schon 2012

In the position he was in, it’s hard to imagine Neal Schon refusing an offer to play with Eric Clapton.

A mere teenager, whose soulful, expressive guitar playing had caught the ear of the man known as “Slowhand,” Schon had dropped out of high school in the 1960s to follow his musical muse. This was the chance of a lifetime. Other guitarists would have given their eye teeth for such an opportunity, but fate had something different in mind for Schon.

“I had a good feeling … I don’t know why, but I had a good feeling I was going to be asked to join the Santana band, because I’d been hanging out with them,” remembers Schon. “I believe I started hanging out with [keyboardist] Gregg Rolie two to three months before I actually got in the band. And him and I would just hang and he’d play acoustic piano, and I’d play some quiet electric guitar and we’d jam. He began picking me up at high school, which I was really not into, and we’d take off and I’d cut school and we’d jam. And then we started hanging out and playing in clubs, and all of a sudden, we were working in a studio. And we’d work out in the studio 24/7 and just go in there and jam and try come up with song ideas.”

On one particular night, while the two were jamming “on some stuff that sounded like ‘Batuka’ on the third [Santana] record, and that was the beginning stages of that song, I believe,” Schon recalls Clapton walking through the door. “My jaw dropped. This was just incredible. And I was so shocked at the time I really think I just said, ‘Hello’ and ‘goodbye’ to the guy,” says Schon.

Clapton soon joined in, trading off solos with Schon. They recorded and played for a couple of hours before Clapton left. “And he said, ‘It was great seeing you guys. I’ve got a gig tomorrow.’ And he took off, so it was wild and that was it,” says Schon.

A dumbstruck Schon couldn’t believe what had happened, and he certainly didn’t think anything more would come of it.

“And then the next day, I come into the studio, and there was a note left there from him to me inviting me to play with him and Derek and the Dominos at Berkeley Community Theatre,” relates Schon, who knew Clapton’s catalog backwards and forwards. “And so, at the time, I didn’t have a license. I got somebody to drive me over there, and I managed to get there about 10 minutes before they went onstage. And I went backstage, and he says, ‘Oh, great. You got here.’ He says, ‘We’re going to go onstage and I’m going to play about seven or eight tunes, and then I’m going to call you up as a good friend, and you’re just going to sit in and jam with us for the whole rest of the night.’ And I said, ‘Great.’ I brought a guitar, and he brought me up onstage and I just went and plugged in, and his guitar tech turned the amp up to 10, and we were off.”

The night didn’t end there.

“It was really fun to play and then afterwards, he invited me to go to the hotel with him,” says Schon. “He wanted to sit down and talk, so I went and as we were talking, he was asking who I listened to, and I told him, 'Him.' And he didn’t believe me, so I picked up an acoustic guitar and I started playing note for note ‘Crossroads’ off the Wheels of Fire record. He was like, ‘Wow!’ And he gave me a really kind compliment, and at that point, he said, ‘Well, would you be interested in moving to England and coming and playing with me?’ And I was just like, ‘Whoa.’”

Caught completely off guard by the proposal, Schon wasn’t prepared to answer, “Yes,” even though he could be forgiven for accepting it on the spot.

“I had just barely moved out of my folks’ apartment and was hanging out with Gregg in Mill Valley, in Marin County, north of San Francisco,” says Schon. “And man, I said, ‘I don’t think I’m ready to move to England, although I’d love to play with you.’”

To some extent, Schon felt an obligation to the members of Santana. He’d spent about a month in the studio with them, and Schon had an inkling he’d be asked to join Santana. Fortunately, he was right.

“I also felt that Derek and the Dominos were not going to last that long,” says Schon. “It just appeared that there were some issues going on in the band that I could sense, much like an animal, you know (laughs). It was not like the best time period.”

His prediction was eerily accurate, as Derek and the Dominos, racked by drug abuse and other vices, barely held it together between 1970 and 1971, recording the album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs before the whole thing disintegrated – although a live album, In Concert, would be released in 1973.

Meanwhile, Schon did eventually land with Santana, joining the band in 1971, just in time to lend his talents to the Santana III album, helping the band forge a tougher, more rock-oriented sound.

“We were really quick in the studio, everybody played live, and there were a few solos that were overdubbed,” recalls Schon. “And I usually got ‘em in one take. I remember we were in and out, and it was a great experience. Great record – I love it to this day.

What people may not know is who actually played lead guitar on one of the LP’s biggest hits, “Everybody’s Everything,” which featured horns by Tower of Power. “I actually played lead guitar on it. And Carlos played rhythm guitar and bass on that,” says Schon.

Ironically, Schon’s association with Santana was also short-lived.

“Well, during the duration that I played with the band, there were people coming and going,” admits Schon. “There were a lot of fall-outs happening. There were a lot of drug issues, and everybody was into a different thing. It got a little crazy and intense, and people were getting pissed and they’d take off and then someone would be replaced for a second.”

Even though the end was near for Schon, he did contribute to Caravanserai , an album he still loves. “’Song of the Wind’ is amazing on that, which is a song Carlos and I just winged, and I actually play the first solo on that; he played the middle solo and I played the last solo on that, and you know, it’s two chords, and we just improvised and played.” And that’s what Schon’s been doing his whole life, as he proves on his latest solo album, The Calling, out now on Frontiers Records.

Schon collaborated with former Journey band mate Steve Smith on the record, and to Smith, it was sort of like being back in Journey ... with some glaring differences.

“Working with Neal on The Calling was very similar to how we worked together with Journey,” said Smith. “We have an easy rapport, a creative chemistry and get right to the task at hand. The atmosphere is fun and we are excited about the music that we are creating. There were two main differences: With Journey we did the writing and rehearsing well before the recording of the album. That way by the time we got to the studio, we knew what we would be recording. With The Calling, Neal had four songs prepared when I arrived at Fantasy Studios. After I recorded those songs on the first day of recording we spent three more days coming up with ideas for tunes and recording them as we went, so the process moved much faster than a Journey recording. The other difference was that the team was not the five Journey band members, who would contribute ideas to the songwriting, arranging and recording process. The team was Neal, keyboard player Igor Len and me. Of course, The Calling is Neal’s album, so he took the lead and did most of the writing and arranging with Igor and I assisting with ideas and direction when needed. Neal is a prolific writer and every time he picks up a guitar, he’ll come up with some new ideas.”

And that’s something Clapton and Derek and the Dominos never got the chance to see up close.  

Book Review: If You Like Led Zeppelin ...

Dave Thompson – If You Like Led Zeppelin …

Backbeat Books

All Access Review: A-

Led Zeppelin - If You Like Led Zeppelin ... 2012

Few bands in the history of rock have a more complicated genealogy than the mighty Led Zeppelin, the pitiless thunder gods of 1970s blues-heavy proto-metal who came and conquered, before losing the seemingly indestructible John Bonham to excessive drinking and stopping cold turkey. The job of making sense of it all falls to veteran music scribe Dave Thompson, whose latest book is an immersive exploration of a tangled rock-and-roll ancestry and yet, true to Thompson’s irreverent manner and devilishly clever writing style, it’s not at all stuffy or pedantic. Even while studying both Zeppelin’s DNA and that of its vast progeny with a scrupulous eye for detail, Thompson breathes new life into what had become a dusty, lifeless history, allowing it to unfold in the most remarkably casual manner.

One of Thompson’s greatest strengths as a writer lies in making connections that not everybody sees and then weaving disparate strands of information and insight into entertaining, gently provocative prose. And although Backbeat Books' “If You Like Led Zeppelin …” has the potential to start heated arguments, it slyly eats away some of the Zeppelin mystique without thoroughly destroying it, and for that, it deserves acclaim. Thompson is practically embedded with Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones in the studio as they grinded out their early session work, and when it comes to unpacking the unruly story of the Yardbirds and all their personnel changes, Thompson is the perfect guide, pointing out the not-so-obvious key events and turning points in their brief, but influential, existence. Similarly, he transports readers back to the vibrant music scenes of late-1960s England – the British blues boom drawing particular interest – that feed Zeppelin’s esoteric tastes, while never shying away from the less savory and downright despicable aspects of the band’s wilder adventures. Legendary for his anger, John Bonham, as Thompson writes, is said to have once held a man over a balcony, 20 floors from the ground, by his ankles after the unfortunate bloke made a joke about drummers. And you thought only hip-hop moguls pulled those kinds of reckless stunts.

Ah, it’s only rock ‘n’ roll, though, and this is, for the most part, a celebration of Zeppelin’s genius and what artists – including folk (Roy Harper, most of all) and blues (Howlin’ Wolf, in particular) legends – left their mark on the collective consciousness of Page, Bonham, Jones and Robert Plant. Casting his net far and wide, Thompson illuminates Zeppelin’s relationships – however slight or indirect – with everybody from Jeff Beck to Fleetwood Mac’s Peter Green, 10cc and Graham Gouldman, The Beatles, John Mayall, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Fairport Convention, Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd, and Cliff Richard, to name but a few. Even bit players like Mickie Most – a minor figure to most, although many will surely recognize the name and know his place in rock history – find themselves written about extensively in Thompson’s tome, as anecdotes about the inner workings of the music business are discussed with a mixture of levity and dead seriousness.

Only 188 pages in length, “If You Like Led Zeppelin …” has more to offer than dry facts and faded nostalgia. Along with an objective autopsy of Zeppelin’s Swan Song, the vanity label they started at a time when everybody was doing it, Thompson lists his 40 favorite Zeppelin covers and surveys their TV and movie appearances – material that, while mildly interesting, seems very much like filler. Nonetheless, Thompson’s work, while far from comprehensive, is a ripping yarn, well-paced and informative. Spreading its seed far and wide, Zeppelin influenced everybody from Soundgarden to Heart, Whitesnake, the Black Crowes and all those denim-and-leather-clad hellions of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, along with countless others. In turn, Bonzo, Jones, Page and Plant had their own spirit guides from the worlds of the blues, folk and other ethnic traditions, and Thompson has tied it all together in a neat little package, recommending more than 200 other bands, records, films and other ephemera you might enjoy if Zeppelin just happens to be your cup of tea.

- Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Kamelot - Silverthorn

CD Review: Kamelot - Silverthorn

Steamhammer/SPV

All Access Review: A-

Kamelot - Silverthorn 2012

Before taking his last breath in the classic film “Citizen Kane,” ambitious publishing magnate Charles Foster Kane enigmatically whispers, “Rosebud,” and a newsreel reporter spends the rest of the movie trying to figure out just what the devil he meant by that dying utterance. Power-metal observers may find the title of Kamelot’s latest magnum opus, Silverthorn, to be just as perplexing, because guitarist/composer Thomas Youngblood, essentially the director of this extravagant production, is being rather cryptic about its significance, leaving it to the listener to decipher it on his or her own.

A sweeping epic, as only Kamelot and Youngblood, in particular, can stage, Silverthorn weaves a haunting tale of lost innocence, heart-rending tragedy, guilty consciences, and troubling family secrets around a young girl’s death and her twin brothers’ search for resolution and salvation. Befitting the poignancy and the dramatic tenor of the story, not to mention the deeply conflicted morality and humanity of its characters, Youngblood has composed a tour de force of jaw-dropping, melodic metal grandeur that's just as awe-inspiring as the cinematic scope of Nightwish's most majestic creations, if somewhat less wintry. Meticulously sequenced so that each piece is logically and inextricably bound to the next, with new singer Tommy Karevik interpreting with clarity and stunning expression the reflective moods, emotional turmoil and thrilling action of the engrossing lyrical narrative, the expansive and mysterious Silverthorn explores progressive sonic labyrinths with childlike wonder and endures full-on invasions of classical bombast, glorious choral outbursts and churning gothic metal riffage. Out via Steamhammer/SPV, and packaged in a limited-edition box set, a doubleg gatefold LP, or the Ecolbook normal version, there's nothing subtle about Silverthorn.

In “Manus Dei,” which serves as a sort of prologue to Silverthorn, there is unease and fear in the smartly executed piano figures, that sense of impending doom enhanced by the enveloping darkness of urgent, sharp vocal violence and cutting strings. Out of the blackness, the pulse-pounding “Sacrimony (Angel of the Afterlife),” emerges, caught up in a swirling vortex of symphonic flourishes and surging guitars and breathlessly racing headlong into the heavy, pendulum swing of the more menacing “Ashes to Ashes.” Among the most impactful tracks on Silverthorn, “Torn” is fraught with tension and its release is cathartic. Immense walls of sound that they are, the title track, “Veritas” and “My Confession” are similarly cast, although the down-and-dirty, serpentine grooves that hold the grinding “Veritas” in their death grip fill a need for some much needed low-end thickness and grit – something Silverthorn otherwise lacks.

Completely over the top, even to the point where it might be wise of Kamelot to scale back on the full-blown orchestration and avoid burying the character of their songs in such lush instrumentation, the multi-layered Silverthorn is, nevertheless, a grandiose monument to Youngblood’s exacting standards with regard to arrangements, sonic quality and musicianship that dazzles. When experienced as a whole, Silverthorn’s overflowing melodies, beastly metal riffs, compelling storyline and the Rick Wakeman-like keyboard excursions from Oliver Palotai make it a fantastical sonic journey with many magnificent peaks and lovely valleys – one being the beautifully rendered “Song for Jolee,” a soft, sad little ode held together with the rather fragile thread of pretty piano and Karevik’s tender vocal treatment. An exception, rather than the rule, “Song of Jolee” is practically the antithesis of “Prodigal Son,” its swells of church organ contrasting with carefully plotted acoustic guitar surrounded by heady rushes of sound. Such is the way with Kamelot, these Floridians who seem more European than anything else. If not quite as volcanic or malevolent as the last couple of Kamelot records, Silverthorn somehow still manages to rise majestically above them, its melodies bigger than life. Now, if only Youngblood would just tell us what Silverthorn means.

-            Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Magnum - On the 13th Day

CD Review: Magnum - On the 13^th Day

Steamhammer/SPV

All Access Review: B+

Magnum - On the 13th Day 2012

If Jon Bon Jovi was belting out “So Let It Rain” in that raspy, dog-eared voice of his to a swarm of horny middle-aged housewives some New York City morning on the “Today” show, the Twitter universe would be abuzz with news of the blow-dried superstar’s newest surefire hit single. As it is, the sweeping, big-hearted anthem – one of many here – from Magnum’s latest opus, On the 13^th Day, out via Steamhammer/SPV, will go largely unheard, and that’s too bad. That track and others on the exhilarating new record deserve a better fate.

The less cynical among us might actually weep openly when Magnum singer Bob Catley, doing his best Roger Daltrey impersonation, wrings out a range of emotions in delivering the line, “You know that I don’t give a damn/I’m only me, that’s who I am,” while a deluge of keyboards and guitar pours down on his proud face. It’s a song of empowerment and gritting one’s teeth as reality prepares to do its worst to a true underdog story, not so different really from John Parr’s emotional – some might say, “Cheesy” – reading of “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion).” And like that ‘80s touchstone, it doesn’t seem to fit in with what’s trendy and happening right now in music. That’s okay with Magnum; the old British progressive-metal warhorse never concerned itself with such things anyway. Even in their salad days, when Magnum’s pop-infused hard rock once had Europe all agog for the melodic fare of records such as On a Storyteller’s Night and the Roger Taylor-produced Vigilante, the band’s art-rock sensibility was a hard sell in America, the promise land for any metal-related acts of that time.

These days, it is the alliance of Catley and songwriter/guitarist Tony Clarkin that holds Magnum together, and although some might find the big emotional swings and melodic bombast of On the 13^th Day a little heavy-handed – “Putting Things in Place” being a prime example of Magnum at their most overwrought – only the most hard-hearted corporate raider could fail to be moved by the working-class sentiments of “Shadow Town” and its giant chorus. An uplifting epic carried on broad-shouldered synthesizers, luxurious piano and magnificent guitar ascents – interrupted for a stretch by some elegant and agile soloing – “Shadow Town” talks of the closing of factories, greed and the misery of the poor with all the poetic righteousness and fervor of a Springsteen. And yet, Magnum will never in a million years see that kind of critical acclaim. 

Undeterred, Magnum carries on, perhaps wondering if their propensity for crafting irresistible, if occasionally trite, melodies and generating overwhelming sonic force would find sympathetic ears in Europe’s burgeoning power-metal movement. What could be more attractive to that crowd than the tumescent string movements marching through “Didn’t like You Anyway” like a symphonic army? How, indeed, could they possibly ignore the majestic phalanx of clean-burning guitars and silvery synthesizers that provide the rocket-booster thrust to the 7:20 opener “All the Dreamers” needed to drive it skyward or the street-tough, switchblade hooks of “Blood Red Laughter,” a rousing song that absolutely has Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger?”

So what if On the 13^th Day seems like a throwback to the unabashedly earnest songwriting of the ‘80s. There are enough wonderfully complex piano parts, rising synth swells and clever little guitar puzzles here to appease hardcore prog enthusiasts looking for classically inspired passages and envelope-pushing musicianship, and when the spirit moves them, as it does on the relentless “Dance of the Black Tattoo” and the bitter “Broken Promises,” Magnum can swing a hammer with the best of them, slamming down heavy riffage and crunching rhythms. Indifference from the world at large may disappoint Magnum, but it’s gratifying to see them still plugging away. Maybe these underdogs will, again, have their day.

-            Peter Lindblad

 

DVD Review: The Doors - Live at the Bowl '68

DVD Review: The Doors - Live at the Bowl ‘68

Eagle Vision

All Access Review: A

The Doors - Live at the Bowl '68

Holding his guitar like a rifle, The Doors’ Robby Krieger takes aim at Jim Morrison. Always up for anything, the singer wanted to stage a mock execution during “The Unknown Soldier,” and Krieger went along with the gag, simulating the recoil action of a gun as Morrison fell like a sack of potatoes. Only six months had passed since Morrison’s notorious onstage arrest in New Haven, Connecticut, and he was, perhaps, beginning to feel as if he had a target on his back, put there by his friends in law enforcement. Confrontations between Morrison, The Doors and the police in the aftermath of that incident would continue, confirming his suspicions.

Unlike that surreal evening in December of 1967 when Morrison fought the law and didn’t win, he wouldn’t be hauled away in handcuffs when The Doors – feeling on top of the world – brought their psychedelic circus to the Hollywood Bowl on July 5, 1968, the concert where Morrison took that imaginary bullet from Krieger. Filmed at the behest of The Doors, it turned out to be a landmark performance for the band and the unpredictable Morrison, ever the fearless shaman and the enigmatic poet. Now, at a time when pettiness and fear seem to have the masses in their clutches and Morrison’s philosophy of liberation is but an echo from the distant past, the definitive document of that celebrated event arrives, a DVD account titled “Live at the Bowl ‘68” that cleans out the dust and the cobwebs and showcases the focused synergy and hallucinatory fervor The Doors could muster when properly motivated. Rising to the occasion, The Doors run through rousing, spirited versions of “Alabama Song (Whisky Bar),” “Hello, I Love You,” “The Unknown Soldier” and “Back Door Man” with vim and vigor, their swirling mania and spirit of adventure driving them onward and upward.

And whenever Morrison gets the itch to veer off course and journey into the unknown, whether his fellow travelers are familiar with the imagined terrain or strangers in the strangest and wildest country one could possibly hope to explore, Krieger, Ray Manzarek and John Densmore are unafraid to follow. With their own loose, freewheeling and almost alien improvisation – oftentimes emitting harsh dissonance and throwing together shapeless sonic juxtapositions – negotiating safe passage through the borderless wilderness of “Horse Latitudes,” “A Little Game” and “The Hill Dwellers,” The Doors coalesce into the more recognizable cadre of gypsy artists commissioned to paint the rich, mysterious hues and golden frames of “Spanish Caravan.” It’s as if the know just what loose thread to pull and let everything unravel, before knitting the elements back together into stronger and more vivid weavings than those captured on in the studio.

Under The Doors’ hypnotic spell, the crowd jolts bolt upright when Morrison screams, “Wake Up!” And while Morrison lashes out with terrifying invective, that trio noisily devolves and breaks apart, embodying the decay and caged-animal frustration that drives Morrison’s delivery. Then, right on cue, The Doors launch into “Light My Fire” – which, along with “The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)” and the aforementioned “Spanish Caravan,” had been MIA previously from the film but are now part of it – with wild-eyed fury, building up to a powerful sonic orgasm of whirling organ, trampling drums and frenzied guitar. All of which leads them to the mysterious, apocalyptic visions of “The End.”

Restored to glorious effect, the audio and video of this event, one of the biggest and most transcendent events in the history of The Doors, couldn’t be more pristine. A vintage look is maintained, and the expressions on Morrison’s face, captured so artfully by the cameramen working this particular job, are priceless, although more close-ups on Krieger and Densmore, in particular, as they worked at their craft would have been appreciated. Even on that Spartan stage, so big and wide for three people intensely concentrating on their playing their parts and one snake charmer with a wry smile and a gift for making dream-like language submit to his will, The Doors – surrounded by an obscene amount of amps – seemed more gods than men. And the extra bonus features, including the mini-documentaries “Echoes from the Past” and “You had to be There,” are wonderfully informative nostalgia trips that tell the engrossing story of this occasion – as well as that of The Doors in general – in great detail, mining the memory banks of the remaining members of The Doors, the opening band The Chambers Brothers, and the Doors’ engineer Bruce Botnick in casual conversations that have the feel of barroom chats.

Unfortunately, we never do find out for sure if Morrison was on acid that night, as has been rumored over the years. Nevertheless, though somewhat compromised, the original footage is sublime, shot from angles that expertly capture the heightened tension and different moods of The Doors that June night in 1968, but never seeming intrusive or obnoxious. Quite lucid and even playful, Morrison was in rare form, and it’s apparent that the importance of this moment is not lost on him or the rest of them. And for those who worked on this new packaging, which includes fascinating liner notes culled from Botnick that read like a detailed tour diary entry from that special date in Doors lore, they recognize it as well.

-            Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Bison B.C. - Lovelessness

Bison B.C. - Lovelessness

Metal Blade Records

All Access Review: A

Bison B.C. - Lovelessness 2012

Raw energy, boiling frustration and churning riffage fuel the impossibly heavy Lovelessness, a staggeringly brilliant mess of rugged, rampaging thrash metal brought forth by Bison B.C. Unloved, they charge out of Vancouver with a messed-up head, ragged clothes and feral, throat-shredding vocals strained beyond medically acceptable limits. These skid-row noisemakers have been rejected and they respond by whipping up a frighteningly intense, incredibly visceral racket that’s every bit the measure of Mastodon’s immense rogue wave of guitars and High On Fire’s tempestuous fury.

Even as dust bowls of drums and bass blot out the sun and come flying across these sonic plains, the rich, deep tones and bug-eyed aggression James Farwell and Dan And coax from their guitars cut through the storms like giant, gleaming swords. Split into halves, the 9-minute plus “Anxiety Puke/Lovelessness” flails wildly with the racing heartbeat of a blinded fighter in a prison riot, before slowing to a menacing crawl. In the sludgy, 11-minute slog through the thick tension of “Blood Music,” Bison B.C. tramps across miles of sonic mud and meaty, barbed-wire riffs and lives to tell about it. This is trench warfare, and Bison B.C. seems to fancy it.

Bayonets fixed, Bison B.C. sneaks into “Last and First Things” and takes it by force in thrilling fashion, crazily vandalizing the place with sharpened, flashing axe work and rhythmic brutality, much as they do in the surging, slow burning “Clozapine Dream.” Theirs is a world where even the most poisonous and treacherous love is not just hard to find, it’s impossible and their lyrics reflect that hopelessness. That fact doesn’t leave them depressed; instead, it fills them destructive anger, the kind that drives men to acts of vengeance. Like bilious punk terrorists the Jesus Lizard did in the ‘90s, Bison B.C. strike out in bold, decisive ways, delivering bare-knuckled hooks that turn rib cages into kindling, all while careening around the tightest of turns as only the most daring of riff-mongering daredevils could.

Produced by the celebrated Sanford Parker, best known for his work with Pelican and Nachtmystium, the high-powered Lovelessness, out on Metal Blade, is a wild horse of an album, bucking and kicking and twisting its body of versatile dynamics to throw riders to the ground in the most violent manner possible. Breakneck, stampeding tempos suddenly downshift to monstrous stomps, and all of it is delivered with bone-crushing violence. Without a conscience, Lovelessness drags your beaten, lifeless body – offering no resistance after just one punishing listen – out into the streets to be devoured and torn apart by coyotes. Either get this album or get out of its way. 

-            Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Neal Schon - The Calling

CD Review: Neal Schon - The Calling

Frontiers Records

All Access Review: B+

Neal Schon - The Calling 2012

There actually was a Journey before Steve Perry arrived. What people forget is, originally, the band showed little interest in making the kind of bite-sized, pop-rock ambrosia found on albums like Escape and Frontiers. Writing aching, overwrought romantic ballads such as “Open Arms” and never-say-die guitar anthems like “Don’t Stop Believin’” that all tended to breathe their last after only a few minutes of life wasn’t what Neal Schon had in mind.

Coming from Santana, he imagined a collective of virtuoso musicians indulging in sprawling rock instrumentals that paid no attention to the clock. And while that went over exceedingly well in live settings, Journey’s early records – Journey, Look into the Future and Next – all floundered commercially. Journey’s record label gnashed its teeth, of course, and decided a change in direction was needed. The rest is history.

In his heart of hearts, though, Schon has always relished the opportunity to stretch out musically, and he goes further than he’s ever been before on The Calling, his jazz-tinged, progressive-rock seventh solo album. Collaborating with former Journey drummer Steve Smith, Schon mingles moods and textures like a chemist, layering guitar and bass parts – comprised of some of the heaviest riffing and wildest soloing he’s ever unleashed, as evidenced by the powerful grooves of the metallic title track – over Smith’s complex, highly technical rhythms. There are periods of combustible fury and contemplation in the string-laden “Back Smash,” a sweeping epic that features silvery waves of synthesizer and crashing guitar chords, and “Carnival Jazz” sends a barrage of ground-to-air guitar missiles into the sky over Smith’s frenetic stick work, before devolving into a jazzy rain of acoustic piano.

More exotic, but no less menacing or dramatic, the mushrooming “Fifty-Six” finds the supersonic Schon flying at unsafe speeds up and down the fret, while in the 1:15 “Irish Field,” Schon goes it alone, weaving together strands of expressive six-string fingering into a fragile, but absolutely beautiful, sound sculpture. A nod to Hendrix, “Blue Rainbow Sky” is Schon’s “Castles Made of Sand” or “Little Wing,” albeit a more expansive version of both. And then there’s “Six-String Waltz,” swinging gently to and fro to hypnotic, if somewhat predictable, effect, while the bluesy “True Emotion” is surrounded by a dark, starry atmosphere that makes one want to lie on the hood of a Trans-Am and stare into the night.

Proving, once and for all, that Schon isn’t ready to lay down his axe, The Calling combines Schon’s overdubbing wizardry with his need for organic musicianship, and Smith, along with keyboardist friends like Jan Hammer and Igor Len, provide a constantly evolving and shifting backdrop that perfectly contrasts and dances with his scorching leads. Heed The Calling and it might just make you think differently of Schon.

-            Peter Lindblad