Short Ribs

Short Ribs

This is by way of introduction to what will probably become a regular feature of the SUN -- Short Ribs. While in some ways it is inadequate or unfair to review the following releases at such short length, it's a decision we've had to make based on 1) the burgeoning number of notable releases, 2) the limited amount of space at present available for reviews, 3) the lack of writers we know with the interest and ability to do reviews and the consequent overload of those writing now. The open invitation extended at the bottom of the staff box every issue is not an idle one. Come on up, if you care, to the Sun office at 208 S. First and show us what you got.

The Edgar Winter Group, Shock Treat-Ment, Epic PE 32461. This album is a real rocker, if a trifle too slick. The Group boasts the particular talents of guitarist Rick Derringer and the multi-instrumentals and vocals of the leader. Outstanding cuts are "Miracle of Love", a romantic Stevie Wonderish vehicle with Edgar's good vocal; "Queen of My Dreams", which is drunk on punk swagger and the rhythmic punch of Rock 'n' Roll Hoochie Cooch; "Some Kinda Animal", a freak flag waver in the venerable tradition with a tasty guitar lead; and "Sundown" which has a nice "Fool on the Hill" feel to it.

The Mighty Sparrow, Hot and Sweet, Warner Bros. BS 2271. The Mighty Sparrow is the James Brown of Trinidad. He's been knocking them out down there for 20 years. I'd guess it was mostly maverick producer/artist Van Dyke Parks who convinced WB to let us Yankees in on the good thing. We've had our second-hand tastes from artists as varied as Paul Simon, Led Zeppelin, and Bonnie Raitt but the original is hot and sweet and just doesn't quit, not even on "Memories" which is a musical eulogy, no less, and still bumps you onto your feet. The Sparrow's got a 16-piece band that'll bring visions of Carmen Miranda to you mind's eye and each and every one of his songs is funny, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, and infinitely danceable. If forced to choose, I'd say "Sparrow Dead", "Mr. Walker", and "English Diplomacy" are the cream, but understand that that's almost wantonly arbitrary. Good, good, good!

Arlo Guthrie, Arlo Guthrie, Warner Bros. MS 2183. Low-energy, peace creep fluff. Whatever happened to the good humor and happy music of the Last of the Brooklyn Cowboys? 

Phil Austin. Roller Maidens From Outer Space, Epic KE 32489. Austin, of the Firesign Theatre, continues to extend the group mythology. These guys have the combination to that cosmic vault of mystery/confusion; Life, if you call that livin'. They're just trying to get out. Don't be put off by the utterly degenerate cover. It's great stuff inside. "I guess in a world where no one is ashamed of sex it's a lot different, you know?"

Martha Reeves, Martha Reeves, MCA 414. Years after Quicksand had everybody "'Dancing in the Street" you're maybe hoping that Martha can come back and still level you like a merciless "Heat Wave." Sadly, the heat's off. No sweatin' in satin allowed -- producer Richard Perry likes his women (Barbara Streisand, Carly Simon) high and dry. Martha covers some distinguished material including Van Morrison's "Wild Night", Marvin Gaye's "Ain't That Peculiar", and Gladys Knight's "I've Got To Use My Imagination" all in an uninspired manner. Her voice is still strong and sexy but the urgency's gone. The shining exception is Hoyt Axton's "Sweet Misery", odd-sounding and genuinely funky. Your best bet though is to go and get those memories by copping Martha and the Vandellas' Greatest Hits wherever you can.

Grossman, Some Shapes to Come P.M. PMR-002. A self-determination effort from the 22-year old horn wizard with experience in Miles Davis' and Elvin Jones' groups already behind him. Grossman, tenor and soprano saxes, is joined by Jan Hammer (of Mahavishnu Orchestra fame), electric piano and moog synthesizer; Gene Perla, electric and acoustic basses and Don Alias, percussion; in an explicit Jazz-rock experiment that's excitingly successful.

Although as yet one hears more Joe Farrell than John Coltrane in his playing. Steve manages to blow some mighty mean stuff. "Haresah" is eastern-sounding, meditative, yet cooking, Hammer's moog work supplies the unaccounted-for guitar. "Zulu Stomp" is ultra-funky and owes a lot of it's oomph to composer Alias. "Pressure Point" is straight-ahead jazz and features Grossman's strongest work of the date.

Excluding the drum mix, "Shapes" is exceptionally well-recorded for an independent effort. Put your money down on this dark horse and exit laughing.

This record is available by mail-order only. Send check for $6 to: P.M. Records 20 Martha St. Woodcliffe Lake. N.J. 07675 --- Bill Adler

The O'Jays, Live in London, Columbia KZ 32953. This album is a lost cause. Its failure is not due so much to the vocal talents or material of the O'Jays but to poor arranging by a directionless band rivaling that of Bert Parks. The king size band, dwarfing the Bonzo Dog's "Intro-and-the-Outro" ensemble, destroyed the R&B sound the same way Elvis' annual Hawaii-via-satellite extravaganza disguised his rockabilly. Like a Doe Severinsen rendition of "I'm a Soul Man". The arrangements broke the straight-ahead drive of many of the included hits by going off on every tangent imaginable for the sake of live spontaneity.

On the whole it seems as though these folks are endlessly reminding us "it's a live album." Unnecessary, lengthy introductions, discussions with the audience, and applause make this album sound more like an instructional disc on performer-to-audience cliches. Apparently the live sound is supposed to justify it and make old hits new brooms sweeping clean. Well I say "smells like a spitball." --Jim Juback