Recorded live in December 1972 and released the following year, Space Ritual is an excellent document of Hawkwind's classic lineup, underscoring the group's status as space rock pioneers. As the quintessential "people's band," Hawkwind carried '60s countercultural idealism into the '70s, gigging constantly, playing wherever there was an audience, and even playing for free on five consecutive days outside the 1970 Isle of Wight Festival. The band's multimedia performances were the perfect accompaniment for exploring inner space and imagining outer space. While not concerned with rock's material trappings, Hawkwind were, ironically, among the hardest-working groups in Britain, averaging one show every three days during the year preceding these recordings. Given all that practice, it's not surprising that the performances collected here are incredibly tight (although, reportedly, a couple of tracks were edited). Incorporating most of Doremi Fasol Latido, the show for the Space Ritual tour was conceived as a space rock opera, its blend of sci-fi electronics, mesmerizing psy-fi grooves, and heavy, earthbound jamming punctuated with spoken word interludes from astral poet Bob Calvert. Although his intergalactic musings date the album, coming across now as camp futurism, they still provide fitting atmospheric preambles to Hawkwind's astounding, mind-warping sounds. Calvert's manic recital of Michael Moorcock's "Sonic Attack," for instance, is an exercise in tension that subsequently explodes on the stomping "Time We Left This World Today"; with Nik Turner's otherworldly sax, Dave Brock's guitar distortion, and the earth-moving rhythm section of Simon King and Lemmy, this track offers a blueprint for the album's most potent material. Another standout is "Orgone Accumulator," ten minutes of hypnotic (Wilhelm) Reich & roll that could be the missing link between Booker T. and Stereolab. A 1973 advertisement described Space Ritual as "88 minutes of brain damage"; that characterization still holds true.

(by Wilson Neate, AMG)

As cliched as that sounds, this might be all the Hawkwind you'll ever need. A double CD culled from live performances at what arguably constituted the band's absolute peak, presented in the bestest way possible - whatever complaints I may voice about the album, there'll never be a technical quibble about them. It was a bit hard to adjust to the almost total lack of crowd noise at first, but on second thought, it's possible that they didn't even edit the crowd noise, as the crowds were too busy gaping at the band's light effects and pyrotechnics, or maybe just tripping out, which is the best thing to do while listening to Hawkwind. (That's not my personal opinion - that's simply an objective fact).
The tunes, apart from a couple improvisatory bits, are all taken from the band's first three albums, and just so happen to include nearly all the highlights - the most glaring omission, of course, being 'Silver Machine'. Why 'Silver Machine' isn't on here is a mystery: wasn't it, like, the centerpiece of the show or something? Ah well, whatever. Is 'Silver Machine' really that better than 'Master Of The Universe' or 'Orgone Accumulator'? It's just a bit more 'anthemic', that's all.
Besides the band, two other people make their mark on this album - one purely "spiritually", the other one in real mode. The former is Michael Moorcock the fantasy writer, the band's emotional guru; the other is weirdo fantasy poet and the principal lyricist for the band, Robert Calwert, who often steps up on stage during the interludes to read a poetic or prosaic excerpt on the standard topics (written either by himself or by Moorcock). Sometimes Calwert even takes lead vocals on some of the actual songs, but that's hardly a plus... on the other hand, the need to stay in key was not really that significant for Hawkwind. All of these excerpts are so damn greasy and sleazy ('in the tenth second of forever I thought of the sea and a white yacht drifting... in the ninth second of forever I remembered a warm room where voices played...') that it's hard to listen to them without blushing, but I actually prefer them to, say, Graeme Edge, as they seem to be less cliched and they're excellently offered, too. Mr Calwert was truly a nutty guy.
As for the songs themselves... as usual, all you gotta do is let go, or else you'll end up complaining on how all these lengthy drones sound exactly the same. No need to complain! Just rest amazed at how these talentless potheads who couldn't have enough individual musical talent to end up in Barry Manilow's backing band actually managed to reach the "astral" sound better than any other British band, better than Floyd, even! And they didn't do this within a tuneless mess, either. One groove after another, all carefully riff-based - even if you don't trip out, you can just mercilessly headbang to them, as they're all ideal vehicles for headbanging. And in the live setting, everything really comes alive, including even stuff like 'Brainstorm' which I didn't care much about in the studio version. The acoustic stuff is mostly gone (even 'Down Through The Night' receives a fully electric treatment), but this is a live album and that's that.
A quick Roger Wilco-style poetic runthrough now: we enter space with a deep grumble of the engines on 'Earth Calling/Born To Go', approach the dark scary whirlwinds of the Black Hole in 'Down Through The Night', get pursued by the unseen android forces of evil on 'Lord Of Light' (absolute highlight - you gotta hear that rumble), finally get lost in the endless depths of the everwide cosmos ('Space Is Deep') and end up in total mass confusion ('Electronic No. 1'). Thus ends the first CD, on a note of despair and chaos...
...and the second CD finds us in a triumphant mode, as we have regained hope in salvation through a fabulous technical device - which is 'The Orgone Accumulator' that helps us, after a few moments of turmoil ('Upside Down') to acquire the necessary energy to save the day and emerge as the world's most potent force during the eleven minutes of 'Brainstorm'. As we ride on, our faith in power and intellect restored, we are again gripped by doubt: are we really as powerful as we seem to be ('Seven By Seven'?) The confusion grows on, gradually turning into near-suicidal schizophrenia ('Sonic Attack', Calwert's most thrilling performance on the album - it was soundbites like this that made people really lose their minds on Hawkwind concerts), until the only possible way left is resignation and disclamation of oneself ('Time We Left This World Today') - and, of course, humiliation before the Eternal Being ('Master Of The Universe'). Exit Stage.
Does this all sound silly? It sure does, but remember, that's Hawkwind for you. Add a little bit of cheap Moorcock fantasy, dirty tattoos, light effects, and above all, the famous dancer Stacia who used to 'illustrate' much of the music onstage, gradually, ahem, "shedding her veils", and you got the ultimate guilty pleasure of your life. The real-life Spinal Tap. "Kiss on steroids", if you wish - except that Kiss never wrote a song as gripping as anything on here...

(George Starostin, Rating: * * * * 1/2)

The surprisingly weak result of a concerted effort by both band and label to push the Beach Boys back into the Top 40 (they succeeded, barely), Holland continued the muddy sound of Carl and the Passions - So Tough. The highlights here -- Carl's "The Trader," Brian's "Sail On Sailor" and "Funky Pretty" -- are marginally better than their immediate predecessors, though "Leavin' This Town" (from recent addition Blondie Chaplin) is rather tiresome. Also, Al Jardine and Mike Love's three-part "California Saga" shows the effects of their environmentalist spirituality left to bake in the sun a few minutes too long (though the conclusion, "California," is a solid return to the harmony-laden sun-and-surf '60s). Dennis' sole lead-vocal contribution, "Only With You," is yet another tender ballad given an excellent reading by the most underutilized member of the group. (by John Bush, AMG)

Atlantis' debut album follows firmly in the footsteps of the earlier Frumpy, with one major difference: shorter songs. Just three of the seven tracks break the five-minute barrier, only one — the defiantly Deep Purple jazz-rocky "Living at the End of Time" — approaches ten. But Atlantis rises regardless. The closing ballad, "Words of Love," essentially predicts Heart's entire career, while the funky overtures of "Get Up," colliding with some of Rumpf's finest, gutsiest vocals, would have made a sensational FM radio favorite. The latter portion of "Living at the End of Time," once the band drops the jazz-rock elitism, is spellbindingly fairyland folky, and both "Rock'n'Roll Preacher" and "Maybe It's Useless" show a Free influence which is quite spectacular. And that, if there is a downside, is where the disappointments lie. At their best, Frumpy's forte lay in their ability to fly off at monstrous tangents without ever losing sight of such notions as melody, cohesion, and discipline. The tangents are less pronounced here, the exploration is less bold and forthright. But the performances are as strong as ever, the songwriting is even stronger, and Inga Rumpf draws out some of her strongest vocals yet to power the band to some brilliant highs.

(by Dave Thompson , All Music Guide)

"On the 19th December 1972 the Man band and their friends and ladies organized a Christmas party at the Patti Pavillion in Swansea and as it was a good excuse to get a lot of people into one place at one time we took the opportunity to take the mobile down to Swansea as well, in the hopes that if anything vaguely sane came out of the party we could preserve it for posterity and do a special 'cheapo, limited-edition' album for the people who couldn't be there.
The party started at six and came to something of a premature end when the Swansea Constabulary decided enough was enough at midnight. Wally Hot Stuff and a Legion of Charlies started things off followed by Ducks Deluxe, a newly-formed rock band who should be releasing records of their own before long.
Help Yourself, who have been friends of Man's since the legendary "All Good Clean Fun" tour ow Switzerland a couple of years ago, were next on with former Man member Deke Leonard on guitar, and the 'very famous' B.J. Cole adding steel-guitar licks here and there.
Next came the 'nostalgia' spot with three well-known groups from South Wales's rock past re-forming for the occasion. First up were The Jets (one of Swansea's finest) led by 'Plum Hollis' who, until recently has been Joe Cocker's road-manager, along with Terry Williams from Man, Martin Ace, the bass, another former Man member, and Deke on lead guitar who after three numbers, with the addition of two legendary Welsh rock guitarists Mickey Gee and Dave Edmunds, became Plum Crazy with Dave Edmunds or, if you prefer, Love Sculpture with "Plum" (if you're confused consult Man's family tree in "Be Good to Yourself").
The last of the re-formed bands was the Eyes of Blue, Phil Ryan's old group, who played a very tasty set. Unfortunately, "Gazzy", former lead singer now with Wild Turkey, was in the U.S.A. and "Pugwash", the Eyes drummer now of Gentle Giant, was on tour with the Groundhogs, so it wasn't possible to have the whole group back together, and rather than be dishonest, we left the recording, hopefully, until another day.
Martin Ace and his wife George, better known as the Flying Aces, followed 'oldies but goodies' time with a very short first appearance in public. Time was fast running out and the Aces only performed two songs, one of which "Welcome to the Party" was, as Martin said, 'especially written for the occasion'.
To finish off an amazing evening Man arrived on stage, and after a couple of numbers had be joined by Dave Edmunds playing slide-guitar and Stan Pfeiffer, who joined in on the vocals at the edn. Dead on midnight the police stopped the show and the party was over. Man would have gone on most of the night and the audience was ready to stay with them, but it wasn't to be.

Happy Christmas! (Original Liner Notes by Andrew Lauder)

River was a looser and rootsier affair than Terry Reid's first records, taken from a sprawl of sessions in London and California that generated enough material for several albums. The very looseness that gives the effort some charm is the same quality, however, that keeps it from being a major work. The songs mostly sound unfinished, as if they're friendly jams in which Reid and the musicians (including, most notably, David Lindley on half the album and percussionist Willie Bobo on the title track) are working out some song ideas or twisting around some riffs. It often brings to mind those parts of songs where the likes of Van Morrison, Tim Buckley, or Robert Plant sing-scat improvised-sounding vocal passages. The difference is that, for the most part, those singers used such sections to embellish solid songs. On River, the quasi-stream-of-consciousness vocal ramblings are the songs. The first four of the seven songs are very much in a funky, laid-back blues-rock groove, prominently featuring Lindley on steel, slide, and electric guitars. Reid, and the album itself, really begin to find more of an individual voice on "River," where beguiling Latin-Brazilian elements are introduced in the guitar, melody, and rhythm. The final two cuts, "Dream" and "Milestones," back Reid's vocals only with acoustic guitar, and have a romantic melancholy that likewise makes them highlights of this highly personal but uneven record.

(by Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide)

Produced by Giorgio Gomelsky, notable for his work with the Yardbirds, Brian Auger, and Magma, this relatively early Gong project is a great representation of the Daevid Allen-era Gong. Though not as intricate as its follow-up companion piece, Angel's Egg, The Flying Teapot is more of a true prog/space rock outing, where hippie-trippy lyrics and space whispering abound, as evidenced in the opening track, "Radio Gnome Invisible." The following cut, "Flying Teapot," is the sprawling highlight of the album. At times reminiscent of some early Weather Report jams, though not as jazzy, the tune features prominent bass, standout percussion/drums, and space whispering courtesy of Smyth. Improvisational groaning and percussion bring this jam to a close. "Pothead Pixies" is a fun pop (pot?) tune which probably received very little, if any, airplay due to the lyrics, followed by Blake's brief synth interlude, "The Octave Doctors and the Crystal Machine." "Zero the Hero and the Witch's Spell," another lengthy composition, features Malherbe's sax playing, which, at this early point in the Gong evolution, is credited for most of the jazz sounds heard in the music (remember, Pierre Moerlen has yet to join the band). This cut becomes quite heavy near its end before making a clever transition into the final cut, "Witch's Song/I Am Your Pussy." Here you hear Smyth's strange, sexually explicit lyrics, which she embellishes with ethereal voicings and cackling. This, combined with a jazzy sax from Malherbe and some very groovy musical lines near the closing, make for another fun tune.

(by David Ross Smith, All Music Guide)

The third and final Pink Fairies studio album, Kings of Oblivion, welcomed guitarist Larry Wallis to the brew, bringing with him some of the band's most remarkable -- and concise -- material yet. The opening "City Kids," famously recut by Motörhead during Wallis' sojourn with that band, is as dynamic an opener as the Pink Fairies ever had, while the album's two epics, "I Wish I Was a Girl" and "Street Urchin," similarly catch the band as they made a sharp turn away from the rockin' riff jam basics that scarred their second LP, What a Bunch of Sweeties, and moved instead into the affirmative guttercat stance that so effectively predicted the rudiments of punk rock. Indeed, if any album could be said to have been born ahead of its time, Kings of Oblivion, conceived in 1973 but sounding just like 1977, is it. In common with the rest of the remastered Pink Fairies albums, Kings of Oblivion divides its bonus tracks between unfamiliar versions of familiar material (most pressingly, an urgent alternate mix of "City Kids") and non-album material. This includes two versions of the loping "Well Well Well" and the country rock-ish "Hold On" dating from 1972, and a single cut with Wallis' short-lived predecessor, Mick Wayne, and it's gratifying to have them on CD at last. Truly, though, Kings of Oblivion could exist just as happily without the extras; greeted at the time as the Pink Fairies' best album, it remains a tightly coiled, furiously adrenalined beast, the summation of everything that the Pink Fairies promised and all that subsequent reunions have continued to deliver.

(by Dave Thompson, AMG)

Whereas the first record was psychedelic space rock acid jams, on their second album, Gila, now consisting of mostly Popol Vuh members, offered something far more sedate. Though Conny Veit was always the leader of Gila, this one comes off much more like a solo effort. The record is a concept album inspired by the book of the same name by Dee Alexander Brown that brought the plight of the North American Indians to international attention. Complex multi-tracked acoustic guitar melodies create a shimmering, even haunting beauty in a lushly Baroque setting, while some of the lyrics are taken from various Native American texts. "The Buffalo Are Coming," with its long instrumental section as well as Native American styled rhythms and chanting, is the high point. Otherwise the vocals distract somewhat from the music, and the whole thing comes off as too much with a smooth new age vibe, especially when compared to the acid-damage blastoff of the earlier Gila album.

(by Rolf Semprebon, All Music Guide)

Released in July 1973, Iceberg was the first of Deke Leonard's solo career. It was recorded at Rockfield, Olympic and Mayfair studios between October 1972 and February 1973.

His departure from the Manband did at least give Deke a chance to produce a record the way he wanted to, and for him to involve a wider range of guest musicians to help him out. This added freedom resulted in a much more song-oriented album than Man would produce, and spawned some perennial live favourites as well. Deke's memory of this time is pretty clear; "I loved every second. I had total freedom. I didn't have to consult anybody. If I liked it, I did it."

Photography and art direction were by Pierre Tubbs and the gatefold cover was originally overlayed onto a silvered background. The silvering and the gatefold were lost with later re-issues. It features a Bristol Fighter biplane from the Shuttleworth Collection. The distinctive guitar is Deke's trusty zebra-striped and cutaway Telecaster, at the time sporting a Stratocaster neck. Twenty years later the guitar was stolen from a dressing room in Hamm, Germany, and Deke would very much like it back. The album was launched at a one-off gig at The Imperial War Museum in London, with a road band that comprised Deke, Brian Breeze, Paul Burton and Keith Hodge. When the single 'A Hard Way To Live' was released in August 1973 critical reaction was unanimously positive; "If you wanna boogie or even a drop of jive, then you can't beat Deke. It could even be a hit. In fact I'll stake my boots on it." said Chris 'no boots' Welch in Melody Maker. Despite being voted onto the BBC Radio One playlist, airplay failed to convert into sales for 'Hard Way To Live' when UA weren't ready with enough pressed singles to ride the wave. Deke though was; "The closest Llanelli will get to producing a rock music genius."

(www.manband-archive.com)

From the sweet to the salacious to the poignant, Maria Muldaur's eponymous, strong debut features savvy studio vets, talented guests, strong tunes, and Muldaur's lissome pipes. The outstanding players include Ry Cooder, David Grisman, Clarence White, and Mac Rebennack, better known as Dr. John. A tasteful guitar solo by the underrated Amos Garrett elevates the charming surprise hit single "Midnight at the Oasis." Although she later gravitated to jazz and gospel, Muldaur's first outing is heavy on songs derived from country and blues. A rousing "Work Song," borrowed from Kate & Anna McGarrigle, is only one of several highlights.

(by Mark Allan, All Music Guide)

"Stevie Wonder may be blind, but he reads the national landscape, particularly regarding black America, with penetrating insight on Innervisions, the peak of his 1972-73 run of albums -- including Music of My Mind and Talking Book. Fusing social realism with spiritual idealism, Wonder brings expressive color and irresistible funk to his synth-based keyboards on "Too High" (a cautionary anti-drug song) and "Higher Ground" (which echoes Martin Luther King Jr.'s message of transcendence). The album's centerpiece is "Living for the City," a cinematic depiction of exploitation and injustice. Just three days after Innervisions was released, Wonder suffered serious head injuries and lay in a four-day coma when the car he was traveling in collided with a logging truck." (Rolling Stone)

Total album sales: Under 500,000 * Peak chart position: 4

(glitterhouse.de)

Rock music is littered with bands that wrecked on the studio/live double album concept; Man is rare in that their attempt, despite the departure of Clive John, brought them their first real success. The band's tight performance and increasingly ambitious musical experimentation made Back Into the Future the first Man album to chart in the U.K.; when it hit #23, it was to be the band's high-water mark. Despite the band's live reputation, the studio album probably holds greater interest for listeners today. The title track is a lyrical evocation of the album's charming cover art -- a staged before-and-after shot of a railway station in its Edwardian prime, and then in modern decrepitude. The song's wistful glance at the past blurs with dabs of modern psychedelia, and it conveys the post-Sergeant Pepper fascination of British rockers with the costumed grandeur of Empire past. But it is "Ain't Their Fight," with its echoing vocals and windmilling guitar riffs, that stands out as one of the band's most satisfying tracks.

Most of the rest of the album is comprised of lengthy instrumentals, but the opening "Never Say Nups to Nepalese" is worth noting for its gloriously crashing crescendo, cheerfully lifted from Pink Floyd's "Echoes." And while the live set uses a male choir to haunting effect in the slow psychedelic jam of "C'mon," it's more typified by the indulgent 21-minute boogie marathon of "Jam Jelly Up Tight." Much like the third record of George Harrison's All Things Must Pass, it must have seemed a great idea when stoned, but it's interminable today. Nonetheless, the album stands up as a fine artifact of the band's heyday.

(by Paul Collins, All Music Guide)

We Keep On is the German art/jazz rock band Embryo's most successful recording. It's also one of their best. In late 1972, saxophonist Charlie Mariano joined Embryo along with guitarist Roman Bunka. Mariano's already encyclopedic knowledge of world music forms was a welcome addition to the band; they sought to fuse jazz and space rock -- à la their countrymen Can -- with the various rhythms and harmonic sensibilities of folk musics across the globe. Bunka also played the Turkish saz and was a great, if unconventional, vocalist. Embryo's leader, Christian Burchard, took up everything from drums to marimba to Mellotron on this set to complement pianist Dieter Miekautsch's Rhodes and clavinet work. And Mariano played not only sax and flute but nagasuram and bamboo flutes as well. Here, on "Ehna, Ehna, Abu Lele," West African rhythms danced with jazz rock and wove something entirely new from the roots of both. On "Hackbrett-Dance," saz, marimba, and percussion became something out of time and space that might have come from any North African nation, but found a place in the tripped-out world of psychedelic space music as well -- check the recordings of Angus MacLise for a frame of reference here. But it is on the Miles-influenced jazz-funk of "No Place to Go," which used the Jack Johnson groove to achieve new rock ecstasies, that the album really comes into view for its revolutionary contribution to the language of assimilation. The CD version also contains two welcome bonus tracks from the session, a nearly 16-minute "Ticket to India" and an eight-and-a-half-minute extended improv called "Flute, Saz and Marimba" that could have come from one of Don Cherry's early-'70s recordings. Highly recommended.

(by Thom Jurek, All Music Guide)

The companion piece to The Flying Teapot, Angel's Egg is not your usual progressive rock album. Very quirky, with many, mostly brief compositions, the album is a tad less spacy than Teapot, with just a few psychedelic-inspired lyrics, and it's very technically adept. Angel's Egg opens with a true space rock cut (one of the few on the album), filled with the usual Smyth space whispering and Allen voicings, then leads into the cleverly titled "Sold to the Highest Buddha," with Hillage and Malherbe prominent figures. The instrumental "Castle in the Clouds" finds Hillage coming into his own, with a sound identical to his solo work. "Givin' My Love to You" sounds like a bar song, with no music and a cluster of seemingly drunken fellas trying to sing. The instrumental "Flute Salad" gives way to "Oily Way," a showcase for Malherbe's jazzy flute. "Inner Temple," an instrumental space rock track, moves along with a jazz edge, provided by Didier's sax. The final three tracks are the real highlights on Angel's Egg. "I Never Glid Before" is a fantastic prog-rock tune, replete with blistering Hillage solo, primo Allen lyrics and vocal, and the precise percussion of new bandmember Pierre Moerlen. This eclectic composition travels through several movements and time changes, and comes across as a perpetually progressing piece. The imaginative and jazzy "Eat That Phone Book Coda" brings the album to a close.

(by David Ross Smith, All Music Guide)

Dieses Album der Pianisten Chick Corea und des Vibraphonisten Gary Burton aus dem Jahr 1972 trug dazu bei, die Verbindung von moderner Kammermusik und Jazz zu etablieren. Dank Coreas Wandlungsfähigkeit gehen Jazz-, Folk- und Latin-Formen entspannt und nahtlos in klassische Komplexität und Strenge über. In Burton findet er sein ideales Gegenüber. Besonders bei "Señor Mouse" und "What Game Shall We Play Today" wirken die beiden, als wäre ein Musiker an einem einzigen, herrlich in sich vermischtem und akzentuiertem Instrument am Werk. Corea steigt mit metallenem, eigenständig kristallinem Ton und behutsamer Modulation in Höhen empor, und tollt dort herum, ohne in die Banalität zurückzufallen. Burton agiert mit seiner außergewöhnlichen Technik an vier Schlegeln zugleich musikalisch unmittelbar und herausragend. Die Timbres und Klänge von Klavier und Vibraphon sind komplementär, ebenso wie die freundschaftlichen Gemeinsamkeiten zweier unübertrefflicher Musiker.

(Peter Monaghan, amazon)

Endlich gibt's den Klassiker auf CD. Jazz-Puristen lächeln zwar über die dahinplätschernden Klänge des Duos - na und? Wie Vibraphonist und Pianist die Kühle und Wärme ihrer Instrumente kombinieren, wie sie ihre Soli gegenseitig untermalen, wie ihre Themen ausschwingen, degradiert jegliches New Age.

© Audio

For Crystal Silence, the first of several partnerships between Chick Corea and vibraphonist Gary Burton in the 1970s, the two musicians selected an interesting array of material. The compositions on this record are all modern ones, either by Steve Swallow, Mike Gibbs, or Corea himself. It is a mostly down-tempo affair, which allows each player to stretch out and play highly melodic solos over the often difficult changes. In keeping with most ECM releases, there is a distinct presence of European elements to the improvisations. There are few overt blues or bebop phrases, Corea and Burton opting instead for modern melodies to fuel their improvisations. Burton has managed to internalize the Spanish and modal implications of Corea's tunes with little difficulty, and solos with joyful ease through such tracks as "Señor Mouse." Corea himself is absolutely burning. His solo contribution on the same track is both fiery and introspective, combining in one statement the poles for which he is best-known. The title track is also the centerpiece of the album, a nine-minute exploration of the Corea ballad that first appeared on his Return to Forever record in 1972. In keeping with the tradition of the great masters of the ballad form, time seems to disappear as Burton and Corea lovingly caress the song's simple melody and dance effortlessly around the chords, building intensity only to let it subside once more. Crystal Silence is a sublime indication of what two master improvisers can do given quality raw material, with the first side of this record being particularly flawless. Improvised music is rarely this coherent and melodic. Essential for fans of Corea, Burton, or jazz in general.

(Daniel Gioffre, All Music Guide)

"Drift Away" may have been the best of single of its year, but the supporting album doesn't quite meet that standard. Drift Away's other tracks are pleasant enough, with Dobie Gray's mellow yet soulful voice stealing the show. The sound is laid back L.A. rock scattered with steel guitars and the occasional fiddle - an odd combination that works on the better cuts like "L.A. Lady" and "Now That I'm Without You." The fine ballads "We Had It All" and "Sweet Lovin' Woman" round out this solid if unspectacular album.

(by J.P. Ollio, AMG)

(by Lindsay Planer, All Music Guide)

The group's debut album. They were still a quartet at the time, without a full-time keyboard player. The material is essentially progressive folk-rock, elements of jazz and swing ("Over the Rainbow" even turns up interpolated in the arrangement of one number) juxtaposed with traditional folk songs ("The Unquiet Grave," ka "Dives and Lazarus"), works attributed to Henry VIII, and folk-style originals. Brian Gulland's and Richard Harvey's bassoon, krumhorn, and recorders are the dominant instruments. The instrumental tracks tend to overwhelm the tiny handful of vocal numbers, sung by Gulland, guitarist Graeme Taylor, and drummer David Oberle.

(by Bruce Eder, All Music Guide)

Led by German keyboard player Thomas Karrenbach's conservative playing style, Lava's first and only album failed to make it beyond the underground progressive scene, but its ingredients included many elements that were just as solid as the music coming from the more prominent groups at the time. The crux of Tears Are Goin' Home is built on a blues-rock sound, with instruments like the harmonica, conga, and bongo drums attaching themselves to the mainframe. What results is some straightforward progressive rock with fuzzy, distorted guitar tones pulling in Jurgen Kraaz's flute and organ accompaniment. With the opening track's blues sound resembling the Groundhogs in many places, the following cut, entitled "Crimes of Love," embarks on a kinder, gentler melody that mirrors the average rock ballad. Beyond the first two songs, the music begins to cultivate a distinct feel, with the mouth harp's cordial twang creating a countrified sound on "Would Be Better You Run" and the acoustic guitar dominating the momentum of "Holy Fool." The full ten minutes of "Piece of Peace" is an excellent coda, as the band spills prominent examples of each of their talents into one long finale. While there are minimal amounts of organ and piano interplay, Lava's sound is located mainly in the string work and in the singing, making this lone release a meritorious effort despite the band's unpromising future.

(by Mike DeGagne, All Music Guide)

Bonjour,

ich war um 1970 Regieassistent am Forum-Theater, Berlin, und habe Thomas Karrenbach und die "Lava"-Gruppe gut gekannt. Beim Klicken durch die "Lava"-Seiten im Internet bin ich nun überall auf Irrtümer gestoßen. Hier also, zur freien Weiterverbreitung, einige Klarstellungen und ergänzende Informationen:

Thomas Karrenbach war in erster Linie weder Sänger noch Keyboarder, sondern (wie auch Stefan Ostertag) Schauspieler am (von Klaus Hoser geleiteten) Forum-Theater, Berlin (größter Erfolg in "Und sie legten den Blumen Handschellen an"); er ist 1974 im Alter von 27 Jahren in Berlin an Magenkrebs gestorben.

Die Lava-Gruppe hat weder als Kollektiv noch als Kommune dauerhaft zusammengelebt. Man traf sich hin und wieder in der Kreuzberger Kellerwohnung von Brigitte und Edwin Wengoborski (Bühnenmeister am Forum-Theater) oder in der Villa, in Lichterfelde, der Filmproduktionsleiterin Regina Otto-Gundelach (u.a. 1971: "Liebe Mutter, mir geht es gut").

Bei diesen Treffen, die oft bis zu 10 Stunden dauerten und zu denen manchmal über 30 Leute kamen, wurde nicht nur kräftig gekifft (später auch freihändig eingeworfen, gesnifft und gespritzt), sondern auch "Musik" gemacht: Trommeln, Flöten, Gitarren, Spielen auf einem indischen Knieharmonium mit handbetriebenem Blasebalg; dazu wurde auch vokalisiert. Keiner beherrschte ein Musikinstrument: das war alles drogengestütztes Gewaber.

Aus diesen Sessions entstand das Lava-Album "Tears are Going Home". Die graphische Gestaltung der Hülle stammt von Brigitte Wengoborski.

Da diese Platte nicht den von den Beteiligten erwarteten weltweiten Sensationserfolg hatte, brach die Gruppe 1974 nach dem Tod von Thomas Karrenbach auseinander; es kam zu einigen Drogentoten aus ihrem Umkreis, darunter war auch die ehemalige Freundin von Thomas.

Weitere Informationen können sicherlich bei Edwin Wengoborski, Klaus Hoser, Christian Rateuke, Anke Oehme und Regina Otto-Gundelach eingeholt werden.

Alles in allem betrachte ich heute diese Lava-Zeit als ein eher trauriges Kapitel meiner Berliner Vergangenheit. Nach dem Auseinanderlaufen der Gruppe habe ich studiert und lebe seit nunmehr 20 Jahren in Frankreich.

Bien à vous,

Eckart Birnstiel

rec. 11/72 rel. 1/74

by Steve Huey

This groundbreaking jazz synthesizer record is really unlike any other Les McCann ever made. Aside from a three-man percussion section and electric bassist Jimmy Rowser, Layers is entirely electronic, one of the first jazz albums with such an emphasis. According to the liner notes, McCann's ambition was to be the entire orchestra he heard in his head, and to that end the record explores the sonic possibilities of the new ARP synthesizer in great detail, though McCann also overdubs himself on electric piano in spots. The variety of tones on the ARP gives McCann a lot to play with, and he mimics woodwinds, horns, strings, slapped bass, and even the intonations of human speech. McCann's kaleidoscopic array of tonal colors and contrasts gives the album a rich, full sound, as does the recording process -- Layers was the first album ever to be recorded in 32-track format. But what really gives Layers its surprisingly warm, human dimension is how emotionally engaged McCann sounds. He laid most of his parts down in only one take, and allowed different sections to flow directly into one another, producing two side-long continuous suites. The resulting stream-of-consciousness feel -- not to mention the near-one-man format -- seems to free up McCann's sense of personal expression; there's a pronounced mood of reflection and nostalgia on the slower, spacier pieces, and on the funkier groove numbers, McCann works his new instrument like a kid in a candy shop. It's true that in some places, Layers is more about texture than theme development, so traditional jazz fans likely won't find it much more than a curiosity. In truth, it's pretty avant-garde -- not in its sound (we're not talking Sun Ra's Atlantis), but certainly in its sensibility; this music is truly forward-looking and ahead of its time.

Multimedia satirist Shel Silverstein had been perfecting his craft since the mid-'50s, releasing seven long-players since his debut, Hairy Jazz (1959). Some 13 years later, Silverstein made his way on to the album charts with Freakin' at the Freakers Ball (1972). Accompanied by the relatively unknown Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show, Silverstein turns his scatological mind toward the hippie counterculture. Their espousal of free love, copious drug use, and general antisocial promiscuity are rendered flaccid and otherwise ineffective throughout the dozen story-song fables. "I Got Stoned and I Missed It" takes a few fairly obvious digs at the futility inherent in substance abuse, while the ambiguity of "Thumbsucker" is awash in an undercurrent of sexual implications and understated humor. Similarly, "Don't Give a Dose to the One You Love Most" almost jovially references communicably transmitted diseases. The title cut "Freakin' at the Freakers Ball" pokes fun at "love-in" type assemblies, even inspiring annual events, that would devolve into free-for-alls held in the name of hedonism. The self-absorption and intemperance of the so-called Me Generation is brought to bear on both "All About You" and the slightly more gynocentric "Liberated Lady 1999," a track best described as an ode to the feminist movement. Less confrontational is the whimsical "Sahra Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out," a bit of poetry that could have easily fit into his one of his numerous children's books. Below the surface lies clever alliteration of a tale decrying the laissez faire attitudes of an entire generation. [When the platter was issued on CD in 1999, three bonus selections were added, the single-only sides "A Front Row Seat to Hear Ole Johnny Sing" and "26 Second Song," as well as Silverstein's own version of "Everybody's Makin' It Big But Me," notably covered by Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show on their Bankrupt (1975) LP.]

(by Lindsay Planer, All Music Guide)