Records

Rip It Up, Issue 99, 1 October 1985, Page 30

Records

Space Case Space Case 3 Ode Sustenance Playing With Fire Kiwi If recording pedigrees are any indication the musicians involved on these two albums must constitute about 90 per cent of the best

New Zealand based jazz talent. From such an assumption we can draw two conclusions. The first is that these musicians are very good indeed, in fact sometimes in world class. The second involves the dangers of there being so few performers at this level. Healthy jazz requires fresh stimulation from a wide variety of input, which ideally means a large pool of per formers. Without such stimulus the music is in danger of inspirational arrest.

And when there’s also the pos sibility that such audience as lo

cal jazz enjoys could grow tired of the same groups (or regroupings). One hopes that at present such problems remain more incipient than realised. The two albums under review give grounds for confidence, albeit with some reservations.

Space Case 3 may well be the group's most confident set yet. Overall the music is vigorous and assured. Its best tracks ‘J.C.A.’ for example excite and stimulate in the way only a . fiery jazz combo can. On the other hand however, the version of Brian Smith's ‘Southern Excursion' is not markedly different from his quartet rendition on last year's eponymously titled album, and that’s despite the addition here of Kim Paterson's flugelhorn. This is probably due not only to the short time between interpretations but the fact that Smith and Frank Gibson are on both recordings.

There’s also another Gibson drum feature (this time on an old Miles Smiles number). Sure, it's his band and he's an awesome talent, but how many recordings of his drum solos does a local fan need to own? But such minor carpings shouldn't detract from the album's many assets, and anyone wanting a taste of top quality jazz by New Zealanders couldn't do better than at least check out the two Murray McNabb-penned tunes that open Space Case 3. Playing With Fire is the second album by Sustenance. It again features Phil Broadhurst as pianist and writer, Colin Hemmingson on

saxes, and the crack rhythm section of Paul Dyne and Roger Sellers (Wellington's 'Avis' to the 'Hertz' of Auckland's Brown and Gibson).

Broadhurst is a very astute and able musician in both his functions. He not only writes intelligent. memorable themes, but performs them with a clearly enunciated precision. This approach is emulated by the rest of the quartet to produce and engaging and very likeable music. Yet while each and every performance here has much to recommend it, over two full album sides something occasionally seems lacking. One begins to wish the playing weren't always so well mannered. What's missing is that sudden stab or bite or even outbreak of lusty abandon. (After all, jazz is about ferocity too.) Perhaps the problem and I repeat, it’s only an occasional one is that Hemmingson is too similar in soloing approach to Broadhurst.

It's been suggested (in the Sustenance album's thoughtful sleeve essay) that New Zealand is at last developing its own indigenous approach to jazz. On the strength of this and the Space Case albums we certainly have solid reasons for confidence, if not yet full confidence for celebration.

Peter Thomson

Prefab Sprout Steve McQueen Epic The country air and all of its joys? 'Steve McQueen’ opens with

a very C&W riff but progresses rapidly to something more longing and perceptive. Stylistically the album reminds one of early Zoo and Postcard without the rough edges that seem to be the trademarks of success these days. A lot of people seem born into the idea that the bigger, smoother and smarter you are, the less sincere; the clumsier and rougher you are, the more honest.

Prefab Sprout borrow from both schools of thought without a twinge of guilt or selfconsciousness; Paddy McAloon has penned 11 songs of huge sincerity, yet all are produced and arranged with spotless taste and intelligence by Thomas Dolby, no less. Which results in some pretty powerful pop; Appetite', a tearful exposition of the heaviest situation, pads acid sarcasm ("Wishing she could call him heartache but it’s not a boy's name...”) with a Steely Dan feather down. 'Desire As’ hangs in the air like candy floss laced with razor blades the album's only concession to glamour is McAloon's cool balance of heart and wallet in every song and maybe the motorbike on the cover

The name of this album will eventually be changed for rather boorish legal reasons and most people, will probably hear 'When Love Breaks Down’ on the radio and write them off as Orange Juice with preservatives or as some sort of Tracey Thorne followup, but don’t. /V/WE-style euphoria aside, Prefab Sprout are a very

good group and this is 'A Stunning Debut’, as every press release from here to Mars will tell you, and you really owe it to McAloon to at least listen to this album twice, or wake up to it one Sunday morning, or run barefoot through the Toxteth riots in slow motion humming ’Appetite’ (now that would be an appropriate video). So buy Steve McQueen and live happily ever after. What a great story ... will Paddy ever wake the fairy princess, daddy? No son, but she'll toss and turn a bit when he starts practising his bar-E chords

Chad Taylor

Let’s Active Cypress IRS Let’s Active's mainman is a guy called Mitch Easter, who along with Don Dixon, produced the first two R.E.M. albums. They're also' the production team on this record and, unsurprisingly, the treatment of sounds on Cypress is full of mystery and imagination. And it’s the production both the overall thick warm sound and injected touches like the five-miles-wide-and-spreading, guitar .On 'Flags For Everything’ —that's the most notable thing about the record.

Y'see, Mitch's songs start from nice little 60s pop premises, but they almost all begin to meander a bit and in some cases totally lose their way. His voice is also a little thin and gawky amidst the swirl of sound and it sounds best when it's

teamed with those of the remainder of the band, rhythm section Faye Hunter and Sarah Romweber. That's what makes the Easter-Hunter composition 'Ring True’ the best thing on the record, well, that and a great chorus. The other standouts are 'Easy Does; a buoyant pop song with chiming electric piano, and 'Blue Line’.

But bits of almost every song are good and Cypress is a singularly friendly record that sounds like it was fun to make. Let's Active won't drag you in the door but once you're in the room there's no reason not to stay there. Russell Brown

Jesse Johnson’s Revue A&M The Clown Prince of Funk met a pauper one day when he was strutting his stuff down in downtown Minneapolis. "I could do that." said the pauper, whose name was Jesse. The Prince just dribbled in reply: “Be my friend." for most of his friends were too tired to come out with the Prince, and some of them couldn’t walk as well as they used to.

Jesse Johnson (Gemini) got on a Greyhound bus at Rock Hound. Illinois, one summer and wound up second-hand man to Morris Day and the Time. And of course they're the guys that played bad while Prince was acting mad and bad in Purple Rain. Jesse, who got yelled at a lot in 'Jungle Love’, and co-wrote the song, eventually decided to call it a day and clock up some time as a Rock Star. Then Jesse (a Gemini, he likes girls who are sexy, loving but can stand on their own two feet) while waiting to be a Star, produced two songs for Janet Jackson, co-wrote ‘Strawberry

Shortcake' for Sheila E and played guitar for Shalamar on ‘Dead Giveaway!

His first solo album, made early this year, features one Time keyboardist and four others who look like misshapen David Grant dolls. The Revue is nude but not rude. This is Prince by numbers, no controversy, guitar flights with kid doves. No perverse sex, no incomprehensible ramblings, no stained sheets of sound, or deranged arrangements. This is clone (the) funk, and whatever Jesse Johnson (a Gemini) says, being friends with “the Mental Mentor is no license to sound like him.

Nevertheless. I (an Aries) like this album and so does my doggywoggy (a Cancer). We were only being mean so we could slip in some puns we thought up. We give it six woofs and hope to see

Jesse Johnson’s Revue back again next year. Goodnight. Peter Grace The Sweet Sweet 16 Starcall Boy, the Sweet. I remember badgering my Dad into handing over the money for a record that, as my tastes stood in Standard Four, seemed pretty close to heaven; the Sweet on one side and Slade on the other. When I got it home I realised it was one of those Dutch soundalike things and was most downcast. But you could hear all the songs on the radio anyway, and you sort of got used to the funny accents ... The Sweet were a Mickie Most production and one of his more successful: they had a string of hit singles in the early 70s. They looked ridiculous and, frankly, they were as deep as the kitschen sink. But the songs on side one of this compilation bristle with an upfrontness that's almost impossible to resist. Much of it's due to the production huge but acousticsounding rhythm section with guitar and vocals sprayed all over it

and its relentless brightness. The sound changes from sheer bubblegum like 'Poppa Joe' to fantastical raunch like 'Blockbuster', but the economy and energy runs right through. Side two is drawn from their later phase, when the hit singles were fewer; accordingly, the stuff that did succeed got recycled in the hope of a repeat and you get the 'Fox On the Run’ vocal harmony on three other songs. Apart from that song and the raucous ‘Action; the side gives a glimpse of what the Sweet’s albums must have been like. Less than tasty. These days it’s safe to sit back and rationalise why you liked 70s crap-pop the amazing production on BCR’s ‘Rock 'n' Roll Love Letter’, Noddy Holder's voice, the altogether classier raunch of most of Abba’s singles. Perhaps much of today’s white dreck will be regarded in the same way in 10 years' time. But I dunno the successive Duran singles and their whatevermixes are closer to pomp rock than anything else, and nobody really loves pomp rock. This record makes me smile and tap my feet. I do not think Go West will ever do this to me.

Russell Brown