Wednesday, November 25, 2020

Wheels on Fire-Liar, Liar



Here is evidence that exciting rock ‘n’ roll can not only come from the most unlikely of places (Athens, Ohio), but also be recorded in this century (2010 to be exact). Perhaps it was the humdrum and indeterminate band name that prevented this group from ever crossing my radar. The four-piece not only had the Memphis sound down, namely Reigning Sound, but they accomplished it without a bass player.  While previous releases had them leaning in the direction of more rough & tumble rock ‘n’ roll in the realm of the Pagans, New Bomb Turks, and the swaggering seventies Stones, Liar, Liar presents them successfully expanding their sound out to the ‘70s melodic pop ‘n’ roll regions of the Real Kids and the Beat. With its prominent whirling keyboards, soulful vocal delivery and pop sensibilities, it was this third and final one on Germany’s Alien Snatch Records that proved to be the charm. Initial listens had me pulling a stockpile of expressions out of storage and Lyres records off the shelf. On “Bad Lie,” they proceed to burst out of the gate, quickly work up a storm and fire on all cylinders. The little vocal inflections at the end of “Sarah” and interspersed throughout “Looking at You” initially threw me for a loop as I could not quite place where I heard them before, then I recalled they were probably inspired by a David Byrne or David Johansen scat. The incendiary “Losin’” is testimony that they were well attuned to a long gone past which allowed them to skirt the transient hipster trappings of their time, while successfully bringing in street-level characters like “Long Tall Sally” into the darkened alleys of the 21st century.  The surging & shuffling minimalism of the Subsonics informs “Ambulance” which arrives on the scene "where the people were dancin’ in street/where the music never sounded so sweet.” The party rages on with “Looking At You” before heading back to the Reigning Sound of “Stick Around” that is unadulterated, straightforward and brimming as tomorrow morning’s black chicory coffee. “Chasin’ UFOs” has them exploring the murky smear of night through the brambles with keyboards that reach a boil like a bubbling cauldron.  Lastly, “I Wanna Know” unspools with the radio “ahn” somewhere between “Heart” by the Remains and Modern Lovers' “Roadrunner." Bucking the trends, they understood what they were good at and they worked feverishly within that framework. This rudimentary intuition is at the essence of rock ‘n’ roll and allowed the soulful quartet to connect the sound and spark of the past to the chain reaction of the present.



Friday, November 13, 2020

The Red Birds (Akai Tori)-Prayer (Inori)

                     

I first encountered the Red Birds when I came across their colorful picture sleeve 45 of “Kami Fusen” (Paper Balloon) in their native land at a flea market surrounding the Tō-ji temple in Kyoto. Although they appear on the vibrant cover of this 1973 release like the ultimate Japanese sunshine pop band, the song starts as a slow burner before turning an unforeseen corner of chugging guitar chords before their co-ed harmonies interlock and lift the song to the stratosphere. Akai Tori (the Red Birds) were pretty prolific in their short span that ran from 1969 to 1974. Of their 10 albums released in five years, Inori (Prayer) surfaced to be the most intriguing in spots, yet bewildering as a whole. In general, it’s not dependent on MOR covers of boring Western hits (e.g.”You’ve Got a Friend,” “Bridge Over Troubled Water”) or the more cloy trappings of early ‘70s soft rock that time stamp their other albums. The album starts especially strong with the versatile group quickly establishing a countervailing direction from their previous efforts. “The World of Nothingness-Birth” could be best described as an approximation of taiko in space before segueing into the curvilinear lushness of  “Awakening.” which sounds like Cold and Bouncy-era High Llamas warmed by “Sun Goddess” from Ramsey Lewis. Elsewhere, “Malibu” casts the vibe of prime Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66. “Niji Otaou” ("Sing a Rainbow") features Junko Yamamoto's pleasant female vocals which are reminiscent of those later heard on the Pen Friend Club albums. Despite the enchantment found in some of these individual songs, the album frequently goes off the tracks with missteps like the old-timey silliness of “Rakuda-chan.” In other moments, its momentum is thwarted by plodding and scorched out filler material like “Hoshi” and ”Ishi." “Kioku.” ("Memory") reprises the space-age waterbed sound of “Awakening” as a male voice recites a monologue that contains some sort of The World Without Us contemplative message by way of Rod McKuen. The lofty a cappella choral title track of “Inori” ("Prayer") fittingly concludes this stylistically incongruent album. This Handel composition is once again as unanticipated as all the preceding songs that are only held together by some loose conceptional ecological theme.