Billy Idol - Vital Idol

Chrysalis Records: 1987/2002

What a beautiful, bizarre beast the Billy Idol story is. You’d be hard pressed coming up with a “Top 10 Most ‘80s Acts” that didn’t include this chap, riding the New Wave brigade in his own style while dominating a fledgling MTV viewscreen. He got his start in the world of punk, his former band Generation X having some mild success, but sensing that scene too limiting for his ambition, left the group with guitarist Steve Stevens for a solo career. You could label Mr. Broad a sell-out, but he did it in such an impeccably innovative way, you can’t help but admire the brazen boldness of it all. Take all that punk style and attitude, puree it in a futuristic New Wave sauté, and aim for nothing less than arena rock stardom. It took a little while to get there, but by the time Idol’s second album Rebel Yell hit, he was one of the biggest stars of the ‘80s.

Yeah, the MTV thing played a major role in it, but let’s not overlook what helped build Billy Idol’s early buzz. I mean, it’s the whole point of these remixes, extended version of his biggest hits ready for use in clubs all over the world, and especially New York City. For a short time, Vital Idol was the closest thing to a greatest hits package you could get from him. Most of his biggest singles feature here, though most glaringly not Rebel Yell - I guess that one’s just too ‘rocky’ for the disco dancehalls.

All those other Idol cuts though, they’re here. White Wedding, Dancing With Myself, Hot In The City, and of course the perennial high-school dance/late-night wedding favorite, Mony Mony (go on, say it, you child). What’s interesting about Mony Mony is this was the only place you could find the track before a proper greatest hits collection came out, the original appearing just on an early Idol single. And truth be told, these extended versions are the ones I’m most familiar with, primarily because Vitol Idol was an essential CD for any mobile DJ worth their salt in the ‘80s. Since my old man had a side-business doing such gigs, you bet I can’t hear White Wedding without expecting that synthy Part II (denied every time on the radio).

For my money (money) though, it’s the back-half of Vital Idol that’s more interesting. Here you find tracks like Flesh For Fantasy, To Be A Lover, Love Calling, and Catch My Fall, tunes that aren’t anywhere as prevalent on the radio, much less as these extended versions. They do get rather repetitive at times, dragging out rhythmic sections for a few builds before the chorus returns, but man, is that breakdown in To Be A Lover ever a trancey one. Still, unless you just gotta’ have slightly longer, dancier version of Billy Idol songs, Vital Idol remains a fans-only option. His various greatest hits packages are far more comprehensive of the man’s body of work.

Stuart McLean - A Story-Gram From Vinyl Cafe Inc.

Vinyl Cafe Productions: 2004

As Canadian cultural icons go, I can’t say Stuart McLean is well known outside our borders. Obviously quite a few athletes, actors, and musicians has more fame, but even among comedians or media personalities I can run off a fair number before folks abroad draw blanks: Don Cherry, Red Green, Rick Mercer, George Stroumboulopoulos, Ed The Sock, Ron MacLean (no relation), Peter Mansbridge (okay, pushing it) …um, that Jian guy that doesn’t deserve any spotlight these days.

Nay, Stuart McLean probably ranks around Royal Canadian Air Farce as far as cultural impact goes, a steadying presence one could count on should they happen across his popular radio broadcast The Vinyl Café. And despite his death this year, he’ll likely live on with rebroadcasts, the show one of CBC’s most endearing. His skill as a storyteller was such that he could take the mundane minutiae of suburban life and have you captivated in the twists and turns each tale took. Seldom anything so zany as to be unbelievable, just simple events that anyone could find relatable (oh God, as I’m typing these words, I’m hearing it in Mr. McLean’s cadence).

The Vinyl Café revolved around a couple named Dave and Morely, and their two children Stephanie and Sam. Dave ran a record shop from which the series based its name on, though for the longest time, I kept imagining a coffee house filled with walls, stools, couches, and even specialized mugs covered in vinyl. I can’t imagine that being too appealing to those with allergic reactions to the material. When I clued in that wasn’t the case, I then thought McLean was reading these stories to an audience within a place called The Vinyl Café, because I didn’t tune in enough to think otherwise. Yeah, can’t say I was a studious follower of McLean’s work, but didn’t mind staying on the channel for a while should I hear his voice on the airwaves.

As the series was successful by Canadian broadcast standards, it naturally spun off books and CDs. A Story-Gram From Vinyl Café Inc. was the fifth double-album released under the banner (not including a Christmas album, because of course there would be one), gathering up a half-dozen selections from McLean’s storytelling tours. Yes, two discs worth, as each story typically runs around the twenty minute mark each. They can come off long-winded in the beginning, yet succinct by tale’s end.

And as for the stories included? Oh, the usual sort of things a suburban family may go through. A miscommunication over Dave perhaps dying (featuring lots of gifted lasagna). Morely joining a book club that’s ridiculously pretentious. A sapling growing in the gathered dirt of Dave’s old car. How Dave dealt with the labor of their first child. Dave’s feeble attempts to erase an accidental, disparaging message left on a neighbor’s tape machine, which includes hijinks with an oversized magnet that would have Wile E. Coyote thinking this is a little over the top. You know, everyday Canadian stuff.

Sense - A View From A Vulnerable Place

Neo Ouija/Psychonavigation Records: 2001/2016

I feel dirty having this. It looked innocent enough, a simple reissue by a label that seemed to have its heart in the right place. They’d exposed me to a number of ambient and downtempo producers I’d have otherwise overlooked, including one Adam Raisbeck as Sense. To have an actual hard-copy of his debut album A View From A Vulnerable Place, quite out of print at this point, where’s the harm in that?

Perhaps none, but as time passed following this reissue, more of the bad habits and questionable business tactics going on at Psychonavigation Records’ headquarters started coming to light. There were prior rumors and hushed whispers on the subject, but few wanted to believe an ambient print would ever engage in such shenanigans – close-knit community and all, right? Then things completely blew up over a potential Peter Benisch reissue (dude!), and now Psychonavigation Records has currently disappeared from the internet - website, Bandcamp and all. I don’t want to get further into it here because this is supposed to be a review for A View From A Vulnerable Place, but… yeah.

So, Sense’s debut album, released in 2001, on an early Lee Norris label, Neo Ouija. I honestly wasn’t expecting ambient techno of this sort – rather more straight-forward ambient, since most of my Sense exposure comes from his pure ambient works. The rhythms have a crisp, electro aesthetic I associate with Vector Lovers and Lorenzo Montanà at this point (first exposures and all), though with less of the robot love in the former, and not as much IDM glitch in the latter. Probably a better comparison is to Norris’ own work around the time as Metamatics, but I haven’t taken in enough of that yet to give a definitive confirmation (he’s got so much music to catch up on!). As this was originally released on his print though, it doesn’t surprise me he’d greenlight a debut from someone with a similar sound.

Sense doesn’t do much challenging with his beatcraft, for the most part offering simple IDM rhythms - he more than makes up for it in the melodic department though. It’s all about those feels, man, and the childlike whimsy one gets when viewing the world from a vulnerable place. Probably also where I get the Vector Lovers vibe on this album, though Sense explores such emotions in a broader context than Mr. Wheeler does. Whether with twee synths, spritely tones, or muted strings, Sense doesn’t mince tugging at your innocent sentiments. The only criticism I can levy here is his palette does run rather samey throughout the album, but at a tidy ten tracks long (with one twelve-minute cut near the end) offering brisk, uptempo numbers to chill, downtempo tracks, it doesn’t wear out either.

A View From A Vulnerable Place definitely deserves its ‘small classic’ status in ambient circles, and hopefully an honest reissue will come about down the road, as the original don't come cheap. Not that this one lasted long either.

ACE TRACKS: May 2017

You know what coincided nicely with me listening to all that jazz, man? Finally finishing up a series that has quite the love affair with jazz music itself, not to mention a whole lot of other Americana: Cowboy Bebop. I’d catch snippets here and there over the past two decades since it came out, but never sat down with a proper DVD set and binge-watch the whole thing. And to be honest, I still haven’t! Sure, I borrowed the series from a friend, but that was last autumn, and only this past May have I concluded my session.

Because I know these twenty-six episodes is all there is to the series (plus a movie), I wanted to savor each and every one, stretch the experience out as though watching it like a regular TV show. And by g’ar, I pulled it off too! For sure I was continuously tempted to hop to the next episode, the next disc, just to see What Happens Next, but my resilience and fortitude paid off, Cowboy Bebop now having settled into my memory membranes like a fine wine rather than a cheap beer. Of course, now that I’m going through the show again with the alternate audio track (what, doesn’t every anime fan do that?), I’m burning through the show again in no time. Whee!

Oh, how was Cowboy Bebop? Yeah, it’s a dope show, but I’ve spent plenty ‘nuff time rambling on about it here, so let’s get to ACE TRACKS of May 2017.


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Stormloop - Into The Void
Mystica Tribe - Island Oasis
Mick Chillage - (M)odes
MO-DU - MOD01
ASC - No Stars Without Darkness
Fjäder - Shades Of Light
Vernon - Soundstream

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock: 5%
(Percentage Of Jazz!: 15%)
Most “WTF?” Track: Either one of the creepier dark ambient offerings, or an impressive jazz solo.

Yay, a ‘big’ playlist again! Sure does help that I’m on a good reviewing clip once more. Not sure why I’ve got a little mojo back compared to earlier in the year. Maybe I was excited to review four CDs of jazz? Not quite, though getting through some of these ‘V’ albums has definitely been fun. For such a small letter in my library – we’re already more than half-way through it! – some of my all-time favorite albums lurk in this bundle. It won’t be long before wrapping this one up, then another modest backtrack, then onto the last of the ‘big’ letters in this project, ‘W’. Fans of water-themed music rejoice!

Infected Mushroom - Vicious Delicious (Original TC Review)

YoYo Records: 2007

(2017 Update:
Remember when some Infected Mushroom fans figured this was the absolute worst the duo could reach? Haha, oh you darling dickens, just wait until a weird, parasitic, futuristic noise known as 'brostep' invades their sound. Maybe you'll accept the 'nu-metal' stuff after all then.

When I was writing this a decade ago (!!), I couldn't help but worry whether I had any right claiming authoritative insight on what metal fans would like. For all intents, IM lured in quite a few to the ranks of psy-trance, fascinated by the strange sounds and twisted production tricks unlike anything they'd heard paired with power chords and heavy riffage before. Going back to it though, this album still sounds overwrought and corny, making me embarrassingly cringe in the hopes the music's not leaking too much out of my headphones such that complete strangers give me The Look. But it's not like I haven't enjoyed pseudo-serious metal myself (oh hi, Pantera) - taste will always be subjective, and if Vicious Delicious somehow does it for you (!!!), you shouldn't feel any shame in that. Only fans of Handsup should be ashamed of any pride in listening to that rubbish. Shame on you, Handsup fans.)


IN BRIEF: An attempt to appeal to the most moronic of metal fans.

To say Infected Mushroom’s previous album IM The Supervisor was received with mixed reviews would be too kind. More specifically, it divided their fanbase into two solid camps: those who fully embraced the duo’s forays into metal riffage and singing, and those who wouldn’t give them another chance unless they knocked it off with the guitars and got back to making psy trance. Perhaps it's silly to have such expectations on them though. After all, they've clearly stated they’d rather try different music than stay in a specific niche. Still, this is the psy scene we’re talking about here - although fun, it is quite insular to the rest of the music world.

And unfortunately for such fans, Erez Aizen and Amit ‘Duvdev’ Duvdevani are showing no signs of which way they want to go either. They moved to Los Angeles to escape their Israeli scene stereotype, yet retain mostly a psy trance following whenever on tour. They’ve been featured on the cover of DJ Mag, but probably only as a means of that rag trying to gain some ‘underground’ cred for covering a psy act. And are they trying to be rock or trying to be psy? Who knows anymore. Even their latest album - Vicious Delicious - finds this split personality in full effect, with half the tracks sounding like either or.

I’m almost at a quandary whether we should be covering this release at all. When the duo embrace metal, it’s a full plunge; very little of their electronic background is retained beyond studio tricks that add to a track’s production. This isn’t like S.U.N. Project or other ‘buttrock goa’ acts that would use guitars as something to complement acid squelches; this is Infected Mushroom doing rap-metal, or prog-metal, or metal-metal. But an electronic act they still are, as the standard psy tracks on Vicious Delicious attest to. And ultimately, Infected Mushroom are more electronic than Neil Young, right?

For as large of a name Infected Mushroom is though, I’m amazed at how average their psy trance offerings are here. The track Suliman, for instance. With chunky rubbery hooks, vocal samples, and squelchy guitar licks, this could have been produced by any number of Israeli acts. Of course, its possible producers in Israel are copying the duo due to their success, but it doesn’t excuse them from sounding like everyone else either. Eat It Raw isn’t much better, going through so many meandering psy motions, you’d be hard pressed to remember it later. Change The Formality suffers from directionless writing too, but is redeemed by better sounds at play and an incredibly infectious vocal hook (and probably one of the best on the whole album, but I’ll get to the vocals in bit). Beyond, in avoiding many of Israeli psy’s more annoying clichés, is a nice trancer in its own right but sounds strangely out of place.

Ah yes. Israeli psy clichés. Let me talk to you about them for a moment. The title track Vicious Delicious is filled with the best and worst of them. First the good: the climax is great, with a build that just keeps piling the tension on and on; whenever full-on nails this it’s possibly some of the most exciting electronic music out there, and Infected Mushroom hits it wonderfully here. It comes in the last third of the track though, and you have to sit through a bunch of nonsense to get there: lots of rambling tangents, and lots of ridiculous sounds. What even is that? A burbling baby mixed with intestinal indigestion? Just idiotic.

Still, when compared to the duo’s metal offerings...

The flamenco-styled Becoming Insane is tolerable thanks to the catchy guitar licks but the rest of their offerings are hilariously awful. You'd think they were a couple of teens who'd just discovered Metallica for the first time. It’s bad enough their limp attempt at prog-metal (Heavy Weight) relies on the simplest of power-chords and acoustic melodies to get the long-hairs thrashing their heads (and I’m not talking about the hippies). It’s bad enough Forgive Me sounds like they were inspired by shit-rockers Nickelback. And it’s bad enough Special Place is a misguided combination of rambling Israeli psy with rock. No, the ultimate abomination is their attempts to sound like Linkin fucking Park!

Artillery is rap-metal at its most hokey. With one-time mainstream Canadian rappers Swollen Members in support, Infected Mushroom apparently never got the notice this style of music was officially declared uncool for a number of years now; ever since the initial fanbase of the genre grew out of their prepubescent stage and matured. While the raps are at least functional, 'Duvdev' sounds like he's shooting for Chester Bennington but ends up sounding closer to Chad Kroeger of the aforementioned shit-rock group Nickelback. Here's the actual chorus:

“Loooooooocccked insiiiiiiiiidde this caaaaaaAAAAAAggee agaaaaAIIIiiinnn!”

But guess what! Infected Mushroom decide they need to cover all aspects of metal on this release, and offer to their listeners In Front Of Me, a power ballad! Good God, no.

Folks may think I’m being harsh on Infected Mushroom because they decided to venture out of their familiar psy trappings, that I dislike their metal offerings because of their use of guitars and such. Not at all. Heavy guitars have often worked wonderfully in EDM, with Liam Howlett's usage the greatest example. Fact of the matter, though, is Infected's metal songs are just amateur at best and crap at worst, with songwriting at a level only young teenage boys would think is innovative. I’ll grant ‘buttrock goa’ was never exactly musically creative either, but at least it had tongue-in-cheek self-awareness of this fact. Infected Mushroom seems to believe these tracks are actually good. And production wise, yes I’ll grant they are. But make no mistake: Vicious Delicious’s metal is for beginners ...or psy trancers who are easily amazed at the inclusion of a guitar, judging by some of their fans’ reactions. I find if I reduce my brain to the thoughts of an angst–filled fourteen year old, the songs are tolerable but I shouldn’t have to rely on drinking a six-pack of cheap beer in the school park before 11pm to enjoy an album.

All in all, Vicious Delicious is an average psy trance release, and a metal release bordering on parody; there is no middle-ground. If Infected Mushroom stay on this path, they should have little trouble in continuing the alienation of their old fanbase, yet also satisfying them just the same. Trying to have your cake and eating it too has never been so apparent.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved

Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc Four: 1962-1994)

Verve Records: 1994

Despite initially being vilified as ‘devil reefer music the [blacks] liked’, jazz had a darn good run at the top. One cannot discuss music of the ‘30s, ‘40s, and ‘50s without its influence on culture abroad. But though it remained a significant player in the ‘60s, newer music started dominating the lexicon of a younger generation. Rock, folk, funk, R&B, and country were seen as the sounds of the Now and the Future (not to mention weird abstract noises from electronic contraptions), and if jazz musicians wished to remain relevant in general discourse, they had to adapt with the times.

Thing is, most jazz musicians didn’t give a lick about that. Sure, a few gained the attention of Very Important rock journalists (Davis, Hancock, Coltrane), but for the most part they were content enhancing ways of approaching their craft. A ‘free’ method, if you will, eschewing the conventions of old to find more ways of playing all the notes. I can’t say I’m much of a fan of this expressionist era, all that technical skill coming off as musical masturbation. Give me something to hook on, mang!

Verve Records must have sensed the changing tides, branching off into other music after founder Norman Granz sold the label to MGM. They still had successful jazz records early in the Sixties, but as the decade wound down, so did their jazz output. The music here showcases some of the more ‘leftfield’ records they released in this time, including Latin sounds of Cal Tjader’s Soul Sauce (Guachi Guaro), Kenny Burrell’s Last Night When We Were Young, and The Girl From Ipanema with Stan Getz and João Gilberto. CD4 wraps this era up with the old bop standard Night Train as performed by Jimmy Smith and Wes Montgomery. You know this tune from Back To The Future.

Speaking of the ‘80s, let’s time-jump two decades! *whoosh*

What’s Verve been up to in that time? Not a whole lot, mostly doing re-issues for Polydor after that media group bought them from MGM in ’72. Despite traditional jazz almost a cultural afterthought for much of that period, these sold well enough that by the late ‘80s, PolyGram decided there was enough interest in the music to warrant a semi-relaunch of Verve Records. They’d still continue the reissue business, but also start signing new talent as well, bringing back all that swing, bebop, and free jazz stylee to those who never lost the faith. Maybe they got in on that developing ‘acid jazz’ sound too, but there’s none of it with the small sampling of ‘contemporary jazz’ we get on CD4. And yeah, as with the ‘free’ stuff from the ‘60s, I’ve only a passive, technical appreciation for this stuff, nothing more.

Still, one can’t help but come away from The Verve Story with at least some appreciation of the music’s heritage. Verve Records is far from the whole story, but it’s a significant chapter of jazz’s legacy.

Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc Three: 1957-1962)

Verve Records: 1994

I’ve mentioned plenty ‘nuff my reservation in exploring jazz beyond the peripheral due to that scene’s daunting size. And hey, fair enough, right? There’s only so much music out there one can dedicate one’s time to. This habit don’t pay the bills (oh God, if only…), so my time remains limited. Nay, ‘tis easier to focus on what I’m properly passionate about, checking other stuff whenever the whim strikes me. Still, there’s another reason I’ve so often put jazz music on the low-end spectrum of my interest, and it’s entirely due to one instrument: the saxophone.

Before saxophone fans get all in a tizzy, this isn’t some arbitrary hate on the horn’s heritage or stylistic preference. I generally enjoy the sound saxophones bring to the world of music, an important touchstone in giving blues, bebop, noir films, and Lisa Simpson their cultural identities. Unfortunately, there’s an audio range of the instrument that’s like needles on my eardrums, physically painful for reasons I don’t understand, generally anything above the mid-tenor through alto – lower tenor and baritone are fine. This gets especially trying when jazz musicians are playing with gusto, incidental reed squeaks making things even worse. I’ve read it attributed to medium, saxophones not surviving the transition into digital terribly well. Perhaps, but it doesn’t help the fact it remains one of the premier instruments of jazz musicians, and thus effectively curtailing whatever enjoyment I get out of the scene.

Take the opening track of CD3 in this Verve box-set, Crazy Rhythm with trombonist J.J. Johnson and tenor saxaphonist Stan Getz. Holy cow, but is that rhythm ever crazy! This is some of the fastest jazz music I’ve ever heard, and super-props to Ray Brown (bass), Connie Kay (drums), Oscar Peterson (piano) and Herb Ellis (guitar) in staying so tight, feeding J.J. and Stan all the fuel for their solos. And Mr. Johnson does his thing, and I’m diggin’ it real good, and then Stan does his thing, and I enjoy it for his technical skill, but I don’t feel it so well, because his horn hurts my ears like so much high-tempo saxophone always does. This handicap totally sucks, it does.

Anyhow, CD3 sees the Verve machine in full swing (including a couple swing tunes, though rather subdued compared to the raucous Forties). Jazz is entering its ‘sophistication’ era, no longer the default music of choice for hep cats (culturally defunct) and cool kids (they prefer rockabilly), but upper-crust parties and college-educated professional adults. Just as well, as fancy musical innovations like ‘high fidelity’ and ‘stereo’ were getting their starts too, and only rich folks had the money for playback machines that could take advantage of it. There’s some nifty tunes here (Ella Fitzgerald getting her scat-bop baritone on, Stan Getz’s Night Rider further fusing classical touches with jazz, Jimmy Smith adding organ to the Verve legacy), but this is about where my interest in jazz music as a genre starts cratering. More on that in CD4!

Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc Two: 1953-1957)

Verve Records: 1994

Right, it wasn’t just the nifty box-set design that caught my attention when buying this. The name Verve Records does have some pedigree even to those as unenlightened of jazz’s storied history as I, so it was a safe bet checking out a 50th Anniversary collection for a proper knowledge-drop on the music.

To simply call it a jazz label hardly does the Verve print justice though, adopting many other scenes as tastes and trends shifted through the ‘60s and ‘70s. They brought us the Righteous Brothers, The Velvet Underground, The Frank Zappa And The Mothers Of Invention, and assorted folksy music too. Jazz remained Verve’s breaded butter though, and even as the music slowly dwindled from prominence, it found a comfortable role in reissuing its back-catalog, all the while gobbling up other jazz prints as labels consolidated their assets into mega-labels. They’re apparently now under the Interscope Geffen A&M Records banner, but not before making stops with MGM, PolyGram, and Universal. I can’t imagine founder Norman Granz figured his print would ever take such a convoluted journey.

Before he set up Verve Records though, Granz had a couple other prints. CD1 focused on his seminal Jazz At The Philharmonic concert tours (not so much a label, but a cross-label brand), and Clef Records, which ran for a decade before being absorbed into Verve. Around 1953, Granz set up another label called Norgran Records, though it too was consolidated into Verve in ’56. It’s this five year period that CD2 cribs its material from, the mid-‘50s in all its boppin’ glory.

Yeah, there’s a good deal of the bebop groove here that’ll have you realizing where the roots of rock’n’roll originated from – the rhythm guitar was getting more opportunities to strut its stuff, that’s for sure. Naturally I’m fonder of this stuff, though hearing more blues-leaning jazz doesn’t hurt either. And while swing was essentially on the outs by the Fifties, that didn’t mean big-bands went by the wayside too, quite a few offerings of ‘orchestras’ on display here (minimum six musicians present, singer optional). I can’t help but think of grand Hollywood spectacles of hip, urban life while hearing these tunes, which is in stark contrast to the more modest, quieter pieces like Art Tatum’s piano solo Tea For Two and Benny Carter’s My One And Only Love - now I’m at a stuffy cocktail party.

However, the most prominent new addition to the Verve legacy CD2 showcases is vocalists. Obviously jazz music had singers before, but when Granz established this print, it was with promoting singing talent in mind. This included such vocalists as Anita O’Day, Billie Holiday, and Ella Fitzgerald, who he personally managed. In fact, the first official Verve release was a collection of Cole Porter covers sung by Ms. Fitzgerald. For my money though, that duet with Louis Armstrong (They Can’t Take That Away From Me) is the clear highlight. Dang near everything ol' Louis did was gold.

Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc One: 1944-1953)

Verve Records: 1994

Like any good and true ‘lover of music’, I had to eventually pay my pittance to jazz music. Where to start though? Its history is impossibly immense, with no hope of simply dipping one’s toes within - even the shallows are as vast as a continental shelf to the scene’s endless oceans. Acid and nu-jazz have provided me a few backdoor avenues, though only delayed the inevitable proper step into the world of swing, blues, bebop, Afro-Cuban, bossa-nova, smooth, cool, free, and a zillion others, I’m sure (and you thought electronic music could get convoluted in its genre demarcations). A ‘best of’ collection seemed an appropriate starting point, but how does one differentiate the soulless corporate cash-grab compilations from the earnest sets curated by authorative historians? Packaging is usually a good indicator of quality, hence why I impulsively sprung for a 4CD box-set celebrating the 50th Anniversary of Verve Records sitting in a used shop – the box has a nifty, faux-vinyl texture to it.

This, of course, means I must now write four reviews of jazz music. No, there’s no avoiding it, no loopholes in my arbitrary rules I can exploit. I’ve written reviews for Every. Single. Disc. of box-sets that include Neil Young, Pete Namlook & Klaus Schulze, Pete Namlook tributes, plus two centered around video game music. It’s only appropriate and decent that I afford jazz music the same prestige (shut up, Goa Trance – Psychedelic Flashbacks, you’re irrelevant to this discussion).

Think there’s not enough material to cover here? Please. I could easily spend four reviews discussing the players involved on CD1 alone, though most of it would be dry regurgitation of historical talking points. I have practically no intimate knowledge of such musicians like Bud Powell, Charlie Parker, Illinois Jacquet, or Machito & His Afro-Cuban Orchestra. I do recognize some names here though, like Billie Holiday, Lester Young, Roy Eldridge, Nat King Cole, and the ever-famous cheek-puff maestro Dizzy Gillespie, but that’s through sheer cultural osmosis. I can tell you how these guys were influential in the development of jazz music, but not why it’s significant with any sort of clairvoyance on my part.

Nay, the most I can offer here is detailing the ‘feels’ such music gives me, and yeah, CD1, I feels ya’. The disc covers the first ten years of Verve’s history (technically not even Verve yet, but I’ll get to that later), when jazz was moving on from swing and into its bop era. For the most part, I quite like this era, what with its brisk rhythms and free-wheelin’ solos (soundtracking cartoons of the time doesn’t hurt either). There’s an energy and zest for performing to the best of one’s abilities captured with these recordings, a chunk of which are live as performed in concert halls. Even the slower, bluesy numbers have enough soul in them I can’t help but hang on each note. Add in that authentically crap, crusty, ripped-from-records quality, and it feels like I’m transported to another time and place.

Groove Armada - Vertigo

Jive Electro: 1999/2000

I already mentioned Vertigo is the only Groove Armada album you’ll likely have, even if you’re not a Groove Armada fan, back when I reviewed The Remixes. That’s only true of American interests though, the duo enjoying plenty of sales numbers for follow-up LPs Goodbye Country (Hello Nightclub) and Lovebox. And despite a half-decade gap, Soundboy Rock did reasonably well in the UK, but it was clear their fame abroad was diminishing. A new wave rebranding for 2010’s Black Light generated a little sustained buzz, and perhaps they could have kept that going if trends weren’t so darn fickle in the world of club music. Instead, they’ve recently opted for that safest of fallbacks all producers succumb to, deeeeeeep house. Ah well, at least there’s precedent in their discography for it.

Vertigo always strikes me as the sort of album that shouldn’t have had much of a hope at gaining Platinum sales status, yet was destined for it regardless. The big singles off here were so ubiquitous in turn-of-the-century advertising, Groove Armada couldn’t help but generate bank from it, though I only heard Fatboy Slim’s rub of I See You Baby on this side of the pond. Still, the summery feel-good vibes of If Everybody Looked The Same and chilled bliss of At The River (mmm, sandy dunes and salty air) make for swell soundtracks accompanying visuals of beautiful people driving beautiful cars in beautiful locales. Instead, we got Moby.

The rest of Vertigo though, how does that hold up? Like, this is mostly an acid jazz record, right? It’s got those funky, groovy rhythms that isn’t quite house music (Chicago, Pre 63, Serve Chilled), ample amounts of jazzy instruments played as laid-back loops or in studio (orchestral swells in Whatever, Whenever, trumpet in Dusk You And Me, turntable scratches and Balearic guitar action in A Private Interlude), and hard-stomp soul (Your Song). There’s also some straight-up house action with In My Bones, plus the original I See You Baby cut, even if it is kind of a plodder. And for a closer, Groove Armada dabble in an eight-minute long trip-hop excursion titled Inside My Mind (Blue Skies) …at least, if you got the UK version of Vertigo. Fatboy Slim’s rub of I See You Baby was so popular though, it got tagged onto the end of American copies, which suits me fine. Ends the album on quite the peppy note, it does.

But these are all loose demarcations. At this point in their career, Groove Armada’s appeal lay in their blending of familiar genres into tasty morsels that played nicely on the radio. Whatever edgy, underground influences Misters Cato and Findlay held, they’re smoothed right the fuck out here - small wonder their recent, straight-forward attempts at new wave and d-e-e-e-ep house haven’t caught on in the same way. Still, if all you’re after is some light dabbling in chilled-out funk and soul while lounging on your patio, then you probably already have Vertigo in your folders anyway.