Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta al kooper. Mostrar todas as mensagens
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sábado, 29 de julho de 2017

AL KOOPER Debut Solo Album


Original released on LP Columbia CS 9718
(US, 1968)


Listening to "I Stand Alone" for the first time is a lot like first hearing the "Sgt. Pepper" album, except that this album challenges and rewards the listener in ways that the Beatles' psychedelic classic never tried to or could have. Al Kooper's first solo album is a dazzling, almost overpoweringly beautiful body of music, and nearly as sly at times in its humor as it is impressive in its musical sensibilities - specifically, the overture serves its function, and also pokes knowing, savagely piercing fun at the then-current vogue for sound collage-type pieces (most especially the Beatles' "Revolution #9"). Those looking for a reference point can think of "I Stand Alone" as a very, very distant cousin to the second Blood, Sweat & Tears album, as well as a much closer relative to the original group's "Child Is Father to the Man", drawing on a few remnants from the tail end of his tenure with the group and a bunch of new songs and compositions by others that Kooper wanted to record - one beautiful element of his career, that helped distinguish him from a lot of other talented people of the period, is that unlike a lot of other musicians who were gifted songwriters Kooper never shied away from a good song written by someone else, especially if he could throw himself into it 100 percent or so; and he jumps in headfirst, as a stylist, singer, and musician, all over "I Stand Alone." Stylistically, it's a gloriously bold work, encompassing radiant soul, elements of jazz going back to the swing era, classical, pop, and even rockabilly - and freely (and masterfully) mixing all of them - into a phantasmagoric whole.


The sources of inspiration (and, in some cases, songs) include Harry Nilsson ("One"), Bill Monroe (and who else, except maybe Elvis in a really inspired moment, was even thinking of covering "Blue Moon of Kentucky" in 1968?), Sam & Dave ("Toe Hold"), Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff ("Hey, Western Union Man"), the Beatles, as well as Kooper himself - he delivers a lost classic in "Right Now for You" (which sounds like a really good lost cut from the Zombies' "Odessey & Oracle" album), and a hauntingly beautiful McCartney-esque nod to the Beatles in the "Eleanor Rigby"-like "Song and Dance for the Unborn Frightened Child." And, yet, for all of its diversity of sound and its free ranging repertory, and the unexpected edits and tempo changes, the album all holds together as a coherent body of work, a sort of more ambitious and personalized follow-up to "Child Is Father to the Man" that still leaves one kind of "whited out" (like the bleached irises of astronaut Dave Bowman's eyes at the end of his voyage through the stargate in "2001: A Space Odyssey") at the end - not even "Sgt. Pepper" does that anymore. On the down side, the sound effects that Kooper dubbed in between (and sometimes during) the songs may seem strangely distracting today, but they were a product of their time - this was the tail end of the psychedelic era, after all, and even Simon & Garfunkel had succumbed to the temptation the previous year, though it's hard to imagine too many people in the business keeping a straight face about such production techniques after hearing the fun this album has at their expense. "I Stand Alone" was a musical trip worth taking in 1968 - thanks to a 2003 Japanese reissue (in 24-bit sound, with the original jacket recreated), the ticket is still there for the asking, and the value of the journey is undiminished decades later. (Bruce Eder in AllMusic)

domingo, 7 de maio de 2017

AL KOOPER With STILLS & BLOOMFIELD

Original released on LP Columbia CS 9701
(US, August 1968)


As the Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" (1967) had done a year earlier, "Super Session" initially ushered in several new phases in rock & roll's concurrent transformation. In the space of months, the soundscape of rock shifted radically from short, danceable pop songs to comparatively longer works with more attention to technical and musical subtleties. Enter the unlikely all-star triumvirate of Al Kooper (piano/organ/ondioline/vocals/guitars), Mike Bloomfield (guitar), and Stephen Stills (guitar) - all of whom were concurrently "on hiatus" from their most recent engagements. Kooper had just split after masterminding the groundbreaking "Child Is Father to the Man" (1968) version of Blood, Sweat & Tears. Bloomfield was fresh from a stint with the likewise brass-driven Electric Flag, while Stills was late of Buffalo Springfield and still a few weeks away from a full-time commitment to David Crosby and Graham Nash. Although the trio never actually performed together, the long-player was notable for idiosyncratically featuring one side led by the team of Kooper/Bloomfield and the other by Kooper/Stills. The band is fleshed out with the powerful rhythm section of Harvey Brooks (bass) and Eddie Hoh (drums) as well as Barry Goldberg (electric piano) on "Albert's Shuffle" and "Stop." The Chicago blues contingency of Bloomfield, Brooks, and Goldberg provide a perfect outlet for the three Kooper/Bloomfield originals - the first of which commences the project with the languid and groovy "Albert's Shuffle." The guitarist's thin tone cascades with empathetic fluidity over the propelling rhythms. Kooper's frisky organ solo alternately bops and scats along as he nudges the melody forward. 


The same can be said of the interpretation of "Stop," which had originally been a minor R&B hit for Howard Tate. Curtis Mayfield's "Man's Temptation" is given a soulful reading that might have worked equally well as a Blood, Sweat & Tears cover. At over nine minutes, "His Holy Modal Majesty" is a fun trippy waltz and includes one of the most extended jams on the Kooper/Bloomfield side. The track also features the hurdy-gurdy and Eastern-influenced sound of Kooper's electric ondioline, which has a slightly atonal and reedy timbre much like that of John Coltrane's tenor sax. Because of some health issues, Bloomfield was unable to complete the recording sessions and Kooper contacted Stills. Immediately his decidedly West Coast sound - which alternated from a chiming Rickenbacker intonation to a faux pedal steel - can be heard on the upbeat version of Bob Dylan's "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry." One of the album's highlights is the scintillating cover of "Season of the Witch." There is an undeniable synergy between Kooper and Stills, whose energies seems to aurally drive the other into providing some inspired interaction. Updating the blues standard "You Don't Love Me" allows Stills to sport some heavily distorted licks, which come off sounding like Jimi Hendrix. This is one of those albums that seems to get better with age and that gets the full reissue treatment every time a new audio format comes out. This is a super session indeed. (Lindsay Planer in AllMusic)

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