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Corbi Wright – “All The Little Ways” (Abaton Book Company) [7/10]

Delicate, little girl vocals supported by an intimate, 1926 Knabe grand piano and 2006 Telecaster guitar backing is the modus operandi of this Utah-born, California-raised singer/songwriter throughout these wistful, occasionally bluesy pop tunes that will appear to fans of the melancholic bedroom ruminations of Janis Ian. The extremely minimalist arrangements present Wright naked for the world to hear, usually it’s nothing but her and her guitar or piano. The absence of studio and session musician embellishments puts the spotlight on her voice and lyrics, while drawing the listener in similar to the approaches to Tara “Fursaxa” Burke and label mate, Marianne Nowottny, although Wright’s songs are much more accessible. The title track has a bluesy, sexy, Billie Holliday vibe, while the fractured percussives, clucking vocals and syncopated, toy piano beats of “I Like To Wake My Baby” add a welcome touch of humor to the dour proceedings.

Wright lowers her voice a couple notches to imbue “The Makers and The Shakers and The Mountains” with a smoky, after hours vibe, sort of like Marianne Faithful at a piano bar, and  does “rock out” (or, at least plugs her guitar in and cranks it up to around 5!) on “Can You Boogie,” thus adding, perhaps, a little Sue Garner mood to the recording, but in keeping with the intimate nature of the disk, it’s little more than random strumming and not one of the album’s stronger tracks. Her tendency to stop… and then resume… in the middle of songs, almost as an afterthought, also adds an uneasy feeling to too many tracks, particularly evident on “Now and Then” and “I Am The Wall,” which started and stopped so many times I thought they were three different songs. While it forces the listener to focus on the arrangements and lyrics, the tactic is overused and makes the listening experience much more frustrating than it needs to be.

So while I would prefer to hear a little more muscle behind the arrangements – a little more meat on the bones, as it were, Wright’s fifth release is, nevertheless, a warm, laid back, occasionally melancholic divertissement that I heartily recommend to fans of vintage Janis Ian, recent Marianne Faithfull and the Mimi Parker-sung Low tracks.

Mars Bonfire – “Faster Than The Speed Of Live” (Fallout) [7/10]

Although generally acknowledged as the coiner of the phrase “heavy metal” via his “Born To Be Wild” song that he wrote for his former bandmates in Sparrow (who had renamed themselves Steppenwolf shortly after he left for a solo career) and whose own interpretation is included here, Canadian singer/songwriter Bonfire (born Dennis McCrohan and later changed to Edmonton, although he was born closer to Toronto) started out in the early 60s with his brother (Jerry, who died in a car crash in the late 90’s) in a band called Jack London & The Sparrows, that also included future Buffalo Springfielder, Bruce Palmer on bass. They released an album on Capitol and even had a Top 3 single before London went solo and was replaced by two German emigres, Nicholas St. Nicholas and John Kay. Now known simply as The Sparrow, they moved to New York , signed to Columbia and released the classic psych single “Tomorrow’s Ship” c/w “Isn’t It Strange” in 1966. The following year, Bonfire opted out and began a solo career. Uni released this self-titled album in 1968 and Columbia quickly reissued it under its present title the following year. [As a quick aside, don’t confuse this with the work of any number of British (e.g., Bromyard, Herefordshire) and American (e.g., Columbus , Ohio ) bands that have co-opted Bonfire’s monikor as their own.]

Bonfire is a better writer than singer (compare his original versions of “Tenderness,” “Ride With Me, Baby” and “Night Time’s For You” with their Steppenwolf counterparts on 1971’s “For Ladies Only” or the title track with the ‘wolf’s furious rendition on their second LP) and his own run “out on the highway” through “heavy metal thunder” is rather flat, lacking Kay’s emotional grunting of those classic lyrics about freedom. As is sadly too often the case, the author’s own rendition pales in comparison to the more popular versions – for further evidence, check any of Paul Williams’ or Kris Kristofferson’s albums of their renditions of their many hits they composed for others. Fortunately for Bonfire, he gets the track out of the way at the beginning of the album, thus allowing the listener to focus on his other compositions, of which “Sad Eyes” is a catchy little pop ditty that seems tailor made for a Partiridge Family or Davy Jones-sung Monkees track.

The groovy organ backing on “Lady Moon Walker,” the rambling guitar licks and rolling piano of the Allman Brothers-ish “Tenderness” all suggest that Bonfire should have had a more successful songwriting career and amply demonstrate that there’s a whole lot more than heavy metal thunder lurking inside his pen. “Ride With Me, Baby” is the best of the future Steppenwolf tracks here, a hard-driving, chunky rocker with swirling organ, seering guitar licks and vestiges of “Sookie Sookie” and “The Pusher” bubbling in the background. Bonfire offers his sentimental side on “How Much Older Will We Grow?,” with his deep, raspy, gutter-level vocals reminding one of what Jim Morrison might’ve sounded like covering Dylan.

“So Alive With Love” and “In Christine’s Arms” are the most straightforward pop tunes on the album and should have been selected as the singles that would have introduced the record to a wider audience. Bonfire’s giddily delirious organ runs behind the latter also have a Steppenwolf aroma, but mainly suggest that his forte might have been charming pop love songs, despite all the biker images that permeate his more well-known songs. In all, Bonfire’s solo album is more from the loosy-goosy, garage/pysch end of the spectrum, and while half the songs would later appear on Steppenwolf albums, their original versions here offer as much of an insight into Bonfire’s songwriting abilities as the ‘wolf’s arrangement skills. Give it a spin and you might be pleasantly surprised.

Penny Nichols – “Penny’s Arcade ” (Fallout) [8/10]

Nichols’ impressive resume includes coffeehouse gigs alongside Tim Buckley, Jackson Brown and Linda Ronstadt, a slot at the Big Sur folk festival with Joan Baez and Judy Collins, and numerous appearances at leading San Francisco venues, including the Fillmore, Avalon, and Matrix opening for the likes of Steve Miller, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Big Brother & The Holding Co., Traffic, Blue Cheer and Jefferson Airplane. She has a platinum record from her time as a Coral Reefer (on Jimmy Buffet’s “Son of A Son of A Sailor”), earned a Grammy nomination for her work on Arlo Guthrie’s “The Power of Love,” and has toured and recorded with Art Garfunkle, Suzi Quatro, Jennifer Warnes and many others. This was her debut solo album, originally released on Buddah in 1968, and co-produced by company chief, Artie Ripp and Billy James (the so-called “house hippy” over at Elektra). Recorded on both coasts, Nichols backing musicians include Alan Bracket and John Merrill from Peanut Butter Conspiracy, and Dylan sidemen, Bruce Langhorne and Al Gorgoni. She has a wonderfully lilting voice reminiscent of Joni Mitchell and this is a soft, wistful collection of  folky pop, with such romantic flourishes as Joe Grimm’s floating flute on “Color of Love” and the vibes, chimes and accordion-like backing on the sultry, jazzy blues of “Salton Sea Song,” which invites favorable comparisons with Laura Nyro.

While “Rainy Days” may be the brightest, sunniest track on the album(!), with it’s incredibly light-fingered piano solo and upbeat, walking-on-air melody, it illustrates the east-meets-west dichotomy running through the album, not only in the recording sessions in NY and LA, but in the juxtaposition of songs about the sun (“Sunshine Blues”) and rain (“Rainy Days,” “Summer Rain) and the change in styles from giddy vaudeville to reflective folk (check her impressive acoustic guitar backing and lilting vocals on the dreamy “Yellow Chimes”) and swirling, jazzy, prototypical west coast psychedelia, full of haunting, echoed vocals and Dead-like backing (“Look Around Rock”). Finally, the jolly, saloon house piano tinkling of Grant Johnson and arranger, Artie Butler propel the fingerpoppin’, toetappin’, “Games” to the head of the class and reminded me of the contemporary work of The Charlatans and Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, with whom she also shared stages in and around L.A.

Long out of print, the album (retitled “Songs From The Summer of Love”) is also available directly from Penny (who currently lives in Saugerties, NY, and hosts a songwriter’s camp, Summer Songs, every summer), but no matter where or how you obtain it, I strongly encourage you to check it out, particularly if you are a fan of folky, female singer/songwriters from the heady days of the Summer of Love.

Pat & Lolly Vegas – “At The Haunted House” (Fallout) [7/10]

The Vegas brothers (born “Vasquez” of Mexican/Yaqui/Shoshone descent in Fresno, California) had a long, storied, albeit mostly invisible career for more than a decade before they hit pay dirt as the leaders of Redbone, who would release seven albums for Epic and RCA throughout the seventies, highlighted by 1971’s “Witch Queen of New Orleans” and 1974’s “Come and Get Your Love”). Numerous 45s (both solo and via pseudonyms like the Individuals, Sharks, Avantis and Routers) on obscure labels like Astra, Spear, Regency, Apogee and Sapien, and even a 1963 LP as the Deuce Coupes (possibly inspired by their days in The Beach Boys’ touring band) preceded this supposedly live album (for starters, the audience is rather conspicuous in its absence!), recorded “above the dance floor of the Haunted House,” as the effulgent liner notes would have us believe! The venue was THE hip nightspot in LA (located on the corner of Hollywood & Vine), and greeted entrants with life-sized wax figures of Frankenstein and Dracula. The specially designed stage featured a monster’s head which blew smoke (and the brothers’ sound) through its nostrils! The album was co-produced by Leon Russell and Snuff Garrett and originally came out on Mercury in 1966.

Just don’t come expecting to hear too much of the genesis of Redbone and you will be pleasantly surprised! The album is more attuned to soul than the funky sound the brothers later perfected and features rip-snorting renditions of such soul classics as Wilson Pickett’s “In The Midnight Hour,” James Brown’s “Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag,” and the Rascals ‘Good Lovin’” rubbing elbows with faithful versions of The Stones’  “Satisfaction” and the Four Tops’ “Baby, I Need Your Lovin.’” Five of their own originals are intermingled amongst the dozen tracks, including the marvelous pop shouter, “Walk On (Right Out Of My Life)” that’s on par with the many hits Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart were writing for The Monkees at the time. Lolly’s blazing guitar solo highlights their more than faithful rendition of Brown’s “…Brand New Bag” and fans of Steve Cropper’s seminal work with the Mar-Keys and MG’s and the more recent Blues Brothers’ revival should not wait another second before adding this to their collection, for live or not, this is a terrific party album.

Baby Boomers will scream right along with “Baby I Need Your Lovin’” and drool over Lolly’s solo on the original stomper “Here I Go (Falling In Love Again),” and his opening fuzzed-out burn on the classic opening riff to “Satisfaction” sets the stage for a sloppy, Stoogey, garage take that’s as mean, lowdown and snarky as the Mickster himself. Their version of The Rascals’ “Good Lovin’” is surprisingly flat, despite another tasty solo from Lolly, suggesting the brothers were wise to leave the blue-eyed (i.e., “white”) soul to Felix and Eddie and Alex (Box Tops) Chilton. Finally, “Any Old Time” is one of the better originals, mixing the stratospheric squealing of the Four Seasons with a smooth, soulful backbeat, reminiscent of Little Anthony & The Imperials and Levi Stubbs and The Four Tops. And how they ever slipped the closing chorus, “I get high” (from Huey “Piano” Smith’s “High Blood Pressure”) past the censors is a mystery lost to the ages, and, luckily for us, makes the swinging, frat party anthem more enjoyable and memorable! Currently, Pat continues to play and record as Redbone (and just released a new album, “One World” in 2005), while older brother, Lolly sadly suffered a stroke about ten years ago and is no longer able to play guitar. So, until a compilation of the brothers’ earlier sides sees the light of day (are you listening, Fallout?), you’ll have to make do with this delicious artifact of their formative years!

TANAKH– ‘SAUNDERS HOLLOW’ (Camera Obscura)

     When is Tanakh not really Tanakh? When guiding light, Jesse Poe elects to hop in the back seat and let his bassist, Michele Poulos drive, as is the case on this, their fifth album and first for Australian indie, Camera Obscura. A companion record to last year’s ‘Ardent Fevers’ (in fact, this was recorded a week earlier), ‘Saunders Hollow’ opens with Dan Calhoun’s gentle violin strains, Brian Jones’ shuffling drums and Poulos’ breathy vocals on ‘Ladybird,’ as she adds a tender, feminine touch to Tanakh’s typically elaborate backing, with Phil Murphy adding softly plucked ukuleles and no less than four acoustic guitars jockeying for position. Like a barefoot stroll through tall, soft grass on a lazy Summer afternoon, the song sets the mood for a relaxed, laidback effort. Poe and Poulos duet on ‘Marcel Proust,’ a lovely lilting pop song driven by Murphy’s lap steel.

     Poulos’ hesitant, little girl vocals on ‘Where Our Gardens Grow’ reminded me of the giddy, girly pop of Olivia Newton-John, but ex-Belle & Sebastian sprite, Isobel Campbell adds another layer of sensuality, and Curtis Fye’s upright bass solo and Poe’s Garcia-like guitar licks assure us this is not aimed at the Top 40, teeny bopper crowd. The title track calypsos its way around several of those acoustic guitars (from Poulos and Clarke Hedgepath), while Poe’s intricate electric guitar lines hint at a touch of Fahey’s blues, Basho’s eastern mysticism, and the back alley mystery of his adopted Italian homeland.

     Fans will still enjoy the usual excellent arrangements they’ve come to expect from a Tanakh recording, including Pete Mathis’ harpsichord dancing around the room with Bryce McCormick and Craig Harmon’s B-3 organs on the country-tinged waltz, ‘Longer Than Sorrow.’ And while the swaying, Leonard Cohenesque ‘Down’ could have used Poe as a male foil for Poulos’ romantic pleadings, the song nevertheless benefits from her emotional reading, which haunted me long after the album drew to its noisy conclusion on the slightly out-of-place skronkfest, ‘Illusions of Separation.’ I also think the syncopated fits and starts of ‘Kept’ have too much of an awkward, in-between-takes, improvisational feel that distracts from the album’s otherwise tightly focused arrangements. Still, it’s a bold move for Poe & Co. to follow up arguably their most critically acclaimed release with such a 180° about face that borders on a Poulos solo album. But that’s just the sort of loose camaraderie that has infected all of Tanakh’s releases and this brave step forward ensures that even the staunchest fan cannot predict Poe’s next move, which I eagerly await. His recently announced US/European solo tour even hints that the next Tanakh album may be as different and unexpected as this one.