Original released on LP Music For Pleasure MFP 5171
(UK, 1971)
As Gerald
Heard's liner notes point out, it's difficult to decide whether Chet Baker was
a trumpet player who sang or a singer who played trumpet. When the 24-year-old
California-based trumpeter started his vocal career in 1954, his singing was
revolutionary; as delicate and clear as his trumpet playing, with a similarly
bright and vibrato-free tone, Baker simply didn't sound like any previous jazz
singer. His first vocal session, recorded in February 1954 (8 tracks), is so innocent-sounding it's like cub reporter
Jimmy Olsen had started a new career as a jazz singer. The album's remainng six
tracks, recorded in July 1956, are even more milk and cookies, thanks in no
small part to syrupy material like Frank Loesser's "I've Never Been in
Love Before" and Donaldson/Kahn's drippy "My Buddy." Choices
from the earlier session like "My Funny Valentine" - arguably the
definitive version of this oft-recorded song - and "There Will Never Be
Another You" work much, much better. The spacious musical setting, a
simple trumpet and piano-bass-drums rhythm section, is perfect for Baker's
low-key style. Despite the few faults of song selection, "Chet Baker Sings" is a
classic of West Coast cool jazz. (Stewart Mason in AllMusic)
Geoff Love selected twelve of the perennially
favourite melodies from Latin-America or inspired by that colourful
sub-continent, and arranged them for an orchestra comprising four trumpets
doubling fluegel horns, four trombones, five woodwind, twelve violins, four
violas, four cellos, piano, two guitars, bass doubling bass guitar, one
drummer, and three Latin-American percussion. The results are ear-catching and
immensely enjoyable. “La Bamba”, that lively dance speciality from Vera Cruz in
Mexico, provides a suitably bright opener with all sections of the orchestra
spotlighted and a growling jungle flute solo. The mellow evocation of that area
in New York city known as “Spanish Harlem” begins with marimba and piano
setting the easy pace and a cor anglais solo later. “Guantanamera” receives an
appropriate Afro-Cuban atmosphere with the brass shining over the cha cha cha
beat, and “Sucu Sucu” of Argentine origin gets a sprightly samba treatment
here. Another Brazilian tempo in the form of the bossa nova ensues as a second
Music for Pleasure Latin music maestro, Duncan Lamont, is featured on
tenor-saxophone in “The Girl From Ipanema”, and the bossa mood is maintained
for “One Note Samba” with fluegel horns prominent.
English listeners went mad for Katie Melua with the release of her debut album in late 2003. Issued domestically in June 2004, "Call Off the Search" posits the lovely Melua pristinely in between pop, adult contemporary, and traditional American musical forms, with savvy marketing handling the finishing touches. (Think Norah Jones.) It's a comfortable, lightly melodic affair that drinks red wine safely in the middle of the road. Raised in Soviet Georgia and the United Kingdom, Melua has a beguiling accent that colors the ends of her phrases, adding character to her velvety, if occasionally only satisfactory singing voice. She has a nice time with the understated R&B sashay of John Mayall's "Crawling Up a Hill," as well as Mike Batt's "My Aphrodisiac Is You," which is spiced up with barrelhouse piano, muted trumpet, and sly references to opium and the Kama Sutra. The singer's own "Belfast (Penguins and Cats)" opens nicely with a few measures of solo acoustic guitar before it's joined by the orchestral maneuvers that sweep through the majority of "Call Off the Search"'s after-dark cabaret. (Melua also penned a dedication to Eva Cassidy, who she's been compared to vocally.) While the instrumentation is never overbearing, a stoic version of Randy Newman's "I Think It's Going to Rain Today" and a couple of late-album pop vocal entries do dawdle a bit in the soft-focus halo that hovers over "Search"'s more easygoing stretches. These selections are perfectly capable, yet pretty obvious, as if the decision was made to sprinkle Melua's debut equally with safety and variety, in case a particular style didn't stick. Still, despite a few detours down easy street, "Call Off the Search" is a promising debut, and comfortable like the first drink of the evening.(Johnny Loftus in AllMusic)
"Along Came
Jones" is the 1965 debut album recorded by Tom Jones and included his massive
hit single "It's Not Unusual". The album reached Nº 11 on the British
charts. Some of the songs were covers and some were written especially for
Jones like the Gordon Mills-penned "The Rose". In July 1965 Parrot
Records (
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| When Tom Jones was introduced to the world by manager Gordon Mills in 1965, the big-voiced singer with animal magnetism was presented as ‘22, single and a miner’. He was, in fact, a 24-year-old married man with a seven-year-old son. Eventually, the truth came out, and wife Linda, a slender young woman with pixie-cut blonde hair, gave a solitary Press interview. She explained that, although the adulation of his fans made her uncomfortable, she loved her husband with a consuming passion. |
Karen Souza is a jazz singer born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, though she has lived in a number of places over the course of her life, including stints in Brazil, New York and around Europe. While Karen
Souza´s voice may sound like it was made for jazz, she is in fact a relative
newcomer to this genre of music. Her career began under various psydeonymns as
she provided vocal support to a number of electronic music producers and was
part of several International House hits. She can be
found singing under these pseudonymns on albums such as Pacha Ibiza, FTV
(FashionTV), Paris Dernier, Hotel Costes and Privé. She had just begun to flirt
with the idea of singing to jazz when she was contacted and invited to join the
production of the first volume of the series, "Jazz and 80s". No one imagined
the success that the series would have almost over night. The producer of the
series knew a good thing when he saw it and he quickly shared his enthusiasm in
the project with Karen and made her and her voice an important part of each
album.
Recorded in January 24, 1975 at the Köln Opera House and released the same year, this disc has, along
with its revelatory music, some attendant cultural baggage that is unfair in
one sense: Every pot-smoking and dazed and confused college kid - and a few of
the more sophisticated ones in high school - owned this as one of the truly
classic jazz records, along with Bitches Brew, Kind of Blue, Take Five, A Love
Supreme, and something by Grover Washington, Jr. Such is cultural
miscegenation. It also gets unfairly blamed for creating George Winston, but
that's another story. What Keith Jarrett had begun a year before on the Solo
Concerts album and brought to such gorgeous flowering here was nothing short of
a miracle. With all the tedium surrounding jazz-rock fusion, the complete absence
on these shores of neo-trad anything, and the hopelessly angry gyrations of the
avant-garde, Jarrett brought quiet and lyricism to revolutionary improvisation.
Nothing on this program was considered before he sat down to play. All of the
gestures, intricate droning harmonies, skittering and shimmering melodic lines,
and whoops and sighs from the man are spontaneous. Although it was one
continuous concert, the piece is divided into four sections, largely because it
had to be divided for double LP. But from the moment Jarrett blushes his
opening chords and begins meditating on harmonic invention, melodic figure
construction, glissando combinations, and occasional ostinato phrasing, music
changed. For some listeners it changed forever in that moment. For others it
was a momentary flush of excitement, but it was change, something so sorely
needed and begged for by the record-buying public. Jarrett's intimate
meditation on the inner workings of not only his pianism, but also the
instrument itself and the nature of sound and how it stacks up against silence,
involved listeners in its search for beauty, truth, and meaning. The concert
swings with liberation from cynicism or the need to prove anything to anyone
ever again. With this album, Jarrett put himself in his own league, and you can
feel the inspiration coming off him in waves. This may have been the album
every stoner wanted in his collection "because the chicks dug it." Yet
it speaks volumes about a musician and a music that opened up the world of jazz
to so many who had been excluded, and offered the possibility - if only
briefly - of a cultural, aesthetic optimism, no matter how brief that interval
actually was. This is a true and lasting masterpiece of melodic, spontaneous
composition and improvisation that set the standard. (Thom Jurek in AllMusic)
A follow-up
to the popular "Skins! Bongo Party" with Les Baxter LP of 1957, Les Baxter's "Teen
Drums" returns the easy listening maestro to pure beat territory, and the
results are as wholesome as the squeaky-clean youngsters grinning on the album
cover. Producer/arranger/marimbist Baxter collected a group of session
percussionists schooled in various foreign rhythms (Afro-Cuban, Puerto Rican,
Brazilian) and steered them through 11 improvised selections. Congas, bongos,
tom toms, and timbales are employed, surrounded by the occasional saxophone,
piano, or guitar to rein in any stray solo excursions. "Ting Ting
Ting" and "Brazil Nuts" start the album off with appropriately
busy rhythms, but the furor fades and "Teen Drums" delivers skeletal arrangements
and tightly restrained beats without aggression or abstraction, fading easily
into the background as Baxter probably intended. The jazzy "I Dig"
swings the hardest, "Barbarian" shoots for (and misses) some Link
Wray-style guitar rumble, and "Boombada" rewrites the "Peter
Gunn Theme" for an imaginary film noir soundtrack. Les Baxter's "Teen Drums" is well-behaved exotica, a pleasant approximation of romantic rhythms for the
average space-age bachelor's cocktail party. (Fred Beldin in AllMusic)
Diana Krall
paid tribute to her father on "Glad Rag Doll", the 2012 album sourced from his
collection of 78-rpm records, and, in a sense, its 2015 successor "Wallflower" is
a companion record of sorts, finding the singer revisiting songs from her
childhood. Like many kids of the 20th century, she grew up listening to the
radio, which meant she was weaned on the soft rock superhits of the '70s - songs that earned sniffy condescension at the time but nevertheless have turned
into modern standards due to their continual presence in pop culture (and
arguably were treated that way at the time, seeing cover after cover by
middlebrow pop singers). Krall does not limit herself to the songbook of
Gilbert O'Sullivan, Jim Croce, the Carpenters, Elton John, and the Eagles,
choosing to expand her definition of soft rock to include a previously
unrecorded Paul McCartney song called "If I Take You Home Tonight" (a
leftover from his standards album "Kisses on the Bottom"), Bob Dylan's
"Wallflower," Randy Newman's "Feels Like Home," and Neil
Finn's "Don't Dream It's Over," a song from 1986 that has been
covered frequently in the three decades since. "Don't Dream It's
Over" slides into this collection easily, as it's as malleable and
timeless as "California Dreamin'," "Superstar," "Sorry
Seems to Be the Hardest Word," or "Operator (That's Not the Way It
Feels)," songs that are identified with specific artists but are often
covered successfully.