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CAT STEVENS: "Foreigner"

Edição original em LP Island ILPS 9240

(UK, July 1973)

Between 1970 and 1972, Cat Stevens recorded four albums in the same manner, using the same producer and many of the same musicians, painting the album covers, and assigning the records ponderous titles. Things changed with his next album, "Foreigner". The recording itself had been produced by Stevens, and while a couple of Stevens' usual backup musicians had been retained, New York session musicians appeared, and second guitarist Alun Davies was gone. With him went the acoustic guitar interplay that had been the core of Stevens' sound, replaced by more elaborate keyboard-based arrangements complete with strings, brass, and a female vocal trio featuring Patti Austin. It's easy to look at the 18-plus minute "Foreigner Suite" that took up the first side and accuse Stevens of excess and indulgence. What should be kept in mind, however, is that his peers in 1973 were acts like Jethro Tull and Yes, who in turn were taking their cue from the Beatles' "Abbey Road " and the Who's "Tommy". Call "Foreigner" ambitious, then, rather than indulgent. Actually, the suite is full of compelling melodic sections and typically emotive singing that could have made for an album side's worth of terrific four-minute Cat Stevens songs, if only he had composed them that way. As it is, the suite is a collection of tantalizing fragments. But the album's second side, featuring the Top 40 hit "The Hurt," demonstrates that, even in the four-minute range, his songwriting and arranging were becoming overly busy. On the whole, "Foreigner" marked a slight fall-off in quality from "Catch Bull at Four", which itself had marked a slight fall-off from "Teaser and the Firecat". The decline seemed more extreme, though, because "Foreigner" clearly was intended to be better than its predecessors. That's the risk of ambition. (William Ruhlmann in AllMusic)

The Albums Of STEALERS WHEEL

Original released on LP A&M AMLS 68121

(UK 1972, November 17)

Encased in a classy sleeve painted by Scottish playwright John "Patrick" Byrne, the first LP from the tumultuous Stealers Wheel is a debonair affair comprised of the kind of accomplished and polished pub pop for which impetus Gerry Rafferty would become known as he subsequently rode out the decade on the sublime radio single "Baker Street ." Rafferty released his first solo slab, "Can I Have My Money Back?" (the title already showing signs of unrest) in 1971, and brought amigo Joe Egan from those sessions to the princely proceeding here. Worthy musical moments abound, all forever overshadowed by the clever corporate-snub "Stuck in the Middle With You" which branded the duo a one-hit wonder when the track took on a life of its own. Sadly, the song also foreshadowed the premature end of Stealers Wheel, and Rafferty and Egan continued to document the personal and professional turmoil of their short time together throughout their respective solo careers, even re-recording some of these early jewels. And though only Rafferty's star continued to rise, Egan harbors considerable talent as well, shining brightly on his Rubber Soul-influenced tapestry "Another Meaning"; however, he keeps bland company with Bad Company with the dumb thud of "I Get By." Meanwhile, Rafferty creates one of those oh-so-cosmic '70s grooves for "Outside Looking In," before being unfortunately caught in one of those oh-so-abrupt '70s fades at the end of side one. This vibe wouldn't be broken so drastically on CD, but for now, and seemingly forever, the platter must be flipped for the unique "Johnny's Song" wherein mountain-rock breaks surround Rafferty's wry life observations. Hidden nugget "Next to Me" extols mellow melancholy meditations exclusive to the West Coast and the Have a Nice Day Decade. Closing pastorale "You Put Something Better Inside of Me" inspired renditions by Ted Neeley and Raphael Ravenscroft. Ultimately, this very solid outing casts a somber shadow because of unfulfilled expectations. And any record this carefully crafted doesn't deserve to languish in the bins of obscurity, but such seems to be the fate of Stealers Wheel. At least the band will always be remembered through the cinematic revival of that supreme FM staple "Stuck in the Middle With You." (Whitney Z. Gomes in AllMusic)

Original released on LP A&M AMLH 68209

(UK, November 1973)

"Ferguslie Park" was recorded after a dizzying string of changes in Stealers Wheel - co-founder Gerry Rafferty's exit soon after finishing the group's first LP, his replacement by Luther Grosvenor and the delayed climb of "Stuck in the Middle with You," Rafferty's return, and the firing of all involved and the reduction of the group to its founding duo of Rafferty and Joe Egan. The resulting album, recorded with some nine support players (including ex-Herd members Gary Taylor and Andrew Steele, plus guitarists Joe Jammer and Bernie Holland), conductor/arranger Richard Hewson in support, and Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller producing, is an upbeat if somewhat less focused work than its predecessor - the mix of hard rock ("What More Could You Want") and lean, melodic songs ("Good Businessman") highlighted by lush choruses, and augmented with occasional spacy digressions such as the shimmering percussion-based interlude between "Wheelin'" and "Waltz (You Know It Makes Sense)," makes this a surprisingly diverse body of music. There wasn't a hit single to be found here, however, which meant that listeners had to find the album on their own; there are moments that anticipate (albeit distantly) Rafferty's solo work, including some well-placed sax breaks, and also jagged, bluesy guitar in all sorts of unexpected places, such as behind the tuneful organ on "Blind Faith" (and the "Shakin' All Over" riff even makes a veiled appearance on "Good Businessman"). (Bruce Eder in AllMusic)

Original released on LP A&M AMLH 68293

(UK, February 1975)

By far the best Stealers Wheel album from beginning to end. Only exception might be the slightly cheesy "Monday Morning." Beyond that, the record is flawless, including two lyrical highlights about the plight of heavy drinking: "Home from Home" and "Right or Wrong." Finally available on CD and well worth the wait. Released by Cherry Red's Lemon Recordings label, the remastering adds a new crispness to the sound. The album is almost a blue-rint for Gerry Rafferty's "City to City" except that this is funkier and less polished (ie better!). Featuring the talents of Geraldine and Josephine, American producer Mentor Williams drafts in his sidekick David Briggs alongside a bunch of British session aces and they come up with the best Stealers Wheel album. Ironically, Rafferty and Egan had acrimoniously split even before the album's release! (in RateYourMusic)

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"Não Me Obriguem Vir Para a Rua Gritar..."

Edição Original no LP ORFEU STAT 017 

(PORTUGAL, Dezembro 1973)

Do mesmo modo que sempre preferi o “Abbey Road” ao “Sgt. Pepper’s” dos Beatles, também aqui, na obra do Zeca, vou contra a grande maioria. “Cantigas do Maio” poderá ser a referência básica para (quase) toda a gente mas para mim sempre perdeu terreno face a este “Venham Mais Cinco”, que foi o album que mais vezes coloquei a girar no prato do gira-discos. Encontrava-me nos meus vinte anos quando esta maravilha me foi parar às mãos pela primeira vez. Era o tempo em que todas as semanas saíam albuns magníficos, quer nos Estados Unidos quer sobretudo em Inglaterra, e essa grande e magnífica orgia de sons anglo-americanos não nos deixava tempo para mais nada. Ou quase nada. Este album, portuguesíssimo, foi uma das raras excepções. A sua original e espantosa modernidade cativou-nos por completo e todos aqueles novos sons ombrearam sem qualquer dificuldade com o que melhor se fazia na altura fora do país. Os sons, e, claro, as palavras também, impregnadas de um surrealismo que nos desconcertava e fascinava: A Nefretite que não tinha papeira e o Tuthankamon sem apetite, ou a tinta que caía no móvel vazio, convocando farpas, chamando o telefone e matando baratas. Ou a formiga no carreiro que vinha em sentido contrário e que caíu no Tejo ao pé dum septuagenário. E que dizer da Paz, atacada de psicose maníaco-depressiva, que saíu aos saltos para a rua, comeu mostarda e bebeu sangria?

Gravado em Paris, no estúdio “Aquarium”, de 10 a 20 de Outubro de 1973, produzido por José Niza e com arranjos e direcção musical de José Mário Branco, "Venham Mais Cinco" reúne as últimas canções de José Afonso antes da sua "Grândola Vila Morena" nos vir a enrouquecer as gargantas alguns meses depois. Inclui diversos temas escritos por Zeca durante o seu último período de “férias” em Caxias, em Maio desse ano: 22 dias sem culpa formada e interdição de recorrência a um advogado por “inconveniências para a investigação”. É o disco em que o cantor conta com a participação de maior número de músicos (18 no total) e onde a sua poesia atinge a expressão mais ampla, livre de significados imediatistas e de interpretações lineares. O tema que dá nome ao album, "Venham Mais Cinco" ("Não me obriguem a vir para a rua gritar!...") é uma autêntica premonição do que está para vir, e é também o último dos grandes hinos de Zeca Afonso antes da Revolução de Abril.

Volto ao início destas notas: continuo a considerar este album, quase 50 anos depois, o expoente máximo da sua obra. Porque para além de toda a sua grande qualidade lírico-musical constitui uma charneira, um ponto de viragem. Chegava ao fim o tempo da resistência e a liberdade estava já ali, à esquina. O período clássico dos albuns de José Afonso conclui-se aqui, e da maneira mais sublime. Haveria espaço ainda no futuro para coisas muito boas mas espaçadas e não com a frequência criativa destes anos. O que até é compreensível – passaram a existir outras prioridades na vida do Zeca e o tempo para as músicas e as gravações deixou de ter a importância que tivera até então.

DYLAN '73

Original Released on LP Columbia PC 32747
(US 1973, November 16)

Maybe this should be retitled "Bob Johnston's Revenge". What is most astonishing about this album is that at one point Dylan seriously intended some of these tracks for release. They certainly provided Columbia with some blackmail material a few years down the tracks. Even so, Dylan seemed more amused than affronted. These were songs, «not to be used. I thought it was well understood. They were just to warm up for a tune. I didn't think it was that bad really!» Rolling Stone's review was damning, an album 'guaranteed to net only horselaughs'. Giving it the title "Dylan", as if it were his definitive statement, merely added insult to injury. When Dylan returned to Columbia he quietly demanded its deletion, the only album to suffer this treatment other than what many think is the equally wretched "Down in the Groove" although it did surface briefly as a UK-only CD. However, as the more fair-minded have pointed out, Dylan alone is not to blame. Michael Gray's review for Let It Rock nailed it at the time, 'basically the album has been given an horrendous re-mix by some anonymous apeman who plainly has the hots for all the girls in the chorus'. 

On "Lily of the West", a harpsichord is reduced to 'an irritating little tinkle at the edge of one speaker'. And Gray does not exaggerate one iota when he describes the hatchet job on "Sarah Jane". The song 'has a very muggy, boomy, indistinct sound, yet the girls come in as clear as a bell. You can almost hear the click as they're switched on at the start of each chorus'. As for the cover of this album - now far more rare and sought after on CD than on vinyl - both front and back are versions of the same photograph by Al Clayton, with Dylan bent forward in contemplation. Or maybe about to throw up having heard the record. On the front - a serigraph by Richard Kenerson - this seems to have had paint tipped down it, and on the back it is marbled like an old book, for which John Berg takes credit. Both have a certain  mausoleum-like quality, as if Dylan has been embalmed. Given the circumstances in which this album was both issued and then deleted, that would seem extremely appropriate. (Brian Hinton)