The Danish group Days was formed in Copenhagen in the winter of 1967/1968 by Peter Lindhe (drums), John Kjaergaard (vocals/rhythm guitar), Ole Fester (vocals/bass) and Lars Reinau (vocals/lead guitar). The band's repertoire was mainly rock and blues-oriented with cover versions of songs from John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, Cream, Jimi Hendrix and The Rolling Stones. Lindhe and Reinau started writing original material for the band and the repertoire started changing from rock/blues cover versions to self-composed, more lyrical songs with elements of The Beatles, Procol Harum and (early) Deep Purple.
In 1969, Jørn Anker (Hammond organ) joined the band and he, too, started contributing new original songs. The Days LP was recorded in the early summer of 1970 and in 1971, the band split up. Days came out on the Spectator label, and is one of the rarest albums from Denmark. It is full of amazing prog tunes with great organ elements and strong fuzz guitar.
Tracks
1. Preambulum (Sound Track In G-Major)/Discovery In Blue (Jørn Anker/Lars Reinau) - 6:24
2. Believe In Me (Ole Fester) - 4:32
3. Feel The Joy (Peter Lindhe, John Kjærgård) - 6:55
4. What Can I Do (Lars Reinau) - 6:44
5. The Lonely Shepherd Boy (Jørn Anker) - 4:32
6. Globe Without A Soul (Jørn Anker, Steen Christiansen) - 6:01
A talented, versatile and prolific musician, Alan Hull rose to prominence with Tyneside folk rockers Lindisfarne, and in 1973 released a Top 30 solo album, Pipedream. Released two years later, the follow-up Squire was written as the soundtrack to the TV play by Tyneside playwright Tom Pickard, broadcast in 1974 with Hull playing the lead role on screen. His character, Alfy, is an unemployed Newcastle boy who has Walter Mitty-like fantasies about being wealthy (and how wonderful is the cover portraying that?).
Produced by Hull at Morgan Studios, the album still sounds exquisite and crystal clear. Shades of The Kinks, solo Lennon and early ELO imbue the mid-tempo title track, rock’n’roller Nuthin’ Shakin’ and heartbreaking One More Bottle Of Wine.
While it’s not a prog album per se, the Mellotron on instrumental I’m Sorry Squire pins it to its mid 70s period and, themed around Pickard’s play, it might even qualify as a concept album of sorts. Regardless, Hull (who died 20 years later, aged just 50) was firing on all cylinders here.
by GRM, September 25, 2013
Tracks
1. Squire - 5:08
2. Dan The Plan - 4:20
3. Picture A Little Girl - 2:43
4. Nuthin' Shakin' (Cirino Colacrai, Diane Lampert, Eddie Fontaine, Johnny Gluck) - 3:45
Freddy Lindquist was a veteran of several Norwegian beat bands before embarking on his solo album in 1970. Moving on to heavy rock he produced an album in the classic vein of Cream and Taste - the comparison being even more apt as the addition of two help-mates made the band into a trio. The guitar-work on the opener 'Sundae Sellers' is very Clapton-influenced, although in no way just a copy-cat, and the jazzy 'Green And Pink Little Man' shows Lindquist is equally at home with hard rock. 'Shakaro' is a flute-led instrumental which nicely breaks up the album, before 'How Nice' re-introduces the guitar as the lead instrument for it's own showcase.
In 1970 he gathered friends from the Club 7 environment and got free access to Arne Bendiksen's studio to record the now legendary album "Menu". Freddy Dahl (Junipher Greene), Calle Neumann, Espen Rud and Geir Wentzel, among others. - a bit of a star team. The result is one of the best Norwegian freak-rock albums of all time and a must for anyone interested in that sort of thing.
A heavy, heavy version of Los Bravos' 'Black Is Black' - done a la Vanilla Fudge - is one of the highlights of the album, but Lindquist's own offerings like 'Women Running Around' and 'Join In And Freak Out' are equally fine, and make this a truly excellent album. All the songs are sung in English, and have a definite British vibe to them, making them accessible to a worldwide audience.
Tracks
1. Sundae Sellers (Bent Birkholm) - 4:43
2. The Green And Pink Little Man (Freddy Lindquist) - 4:08
Brett Smiley was no David Bowie, in fact, the album the 18-year-old Mr. Smiley made with the Rolling Stones producer Andrew Loog Oldham in 1974, “Breathlessly Brett,” didn’t even see the light of day until 40 years had passed.
But he was someone you should know. And in what seemed like some sort of cosmic coincidence, he died on Jan. 8, just two days before his immeasurably more successful contemporary.
The failure of Mr. Smiley — or Brett, as I came to know him — to take his own place in the pantheon of 1970s glam legends wasn’t because of a lack of effort. He was young, American, gorgeous and wrote compelling songs delivered in a breathy, achingly vulnerable voice. Some $100,000 had been invested in starting his career. Disco magazine declared him “the Most Beautiful Boy in the World.” He was poised, on the precipice, ready for his close-up.
But “Breathlessly Brett” was shelved. “I just refused to let them release the album,” Mr. Oldham said recently in an email. “I knew it would be a disaster, and we’d already had one — the 45 r.p.m. release of ‘Space Ace,’ ” a song from the record.
The astronaut-themed “Space Ace,” with its military-style snare drum rolls, “launchpad” sound effects and lush strings might have been titled “Not Quite Space Oddity.” The up-tempo, catchy B-side, “Va Va Va Voom,” would have made a much better debut. Either way, Brett’s glam career crash-landed, and Mr. Bowie — and the rest of the world — moved on.
In 1977, Brett landed a part in “Cinderella,” a low-budget soft-porn flick. Appearing in a movie wasn’t such a big stretch; he had understudied the lead role in “Oliver” on Broadway for a little over a month in 1965. But it was the last major gasp from Brett, who like so many in the hedonistic ’70s and ’80s was wooed by assorted mind-altering substances. And off he went.
By the time I met Brett in Central Park in 1988 while playing Frisbee, his time had passed. To me he was a skinny, friendly, vaguely beat-up-looking man who, like me, carried a guitar everywhere he went. We talked, we jammed, he played me one of his new songs — “From the Head to the Heart” — and he told me to throw out one line of a new song I had just written called “Quittin’ Time.” It was good advice.
We kept seeing each other in the park on weekends and then one last time, for a few hours, at a mutual friend’s house. Eventually, he told me the story of his 15 minutes of almost-stardom, but I didn’t really care. There was no Internet and I could not look up photos, hear recordings or see his and Mr. Oldham’s appearance on Russell Harty’s British TV show.
I just liked the guy; he wasn’t a dude or a bro, but neither was he overly touchy-feely. I was aching at the time for guidance, particularly with music, and Brett gave it to me without being asked. There was something lovable about him. Such is the nature of born stars, whether they become famous or not; you just want to be around them.
When Brett suddenly disappeared and I eventually made inquiries, I was told he’d succumbed again to drugs and had fled to California. I soon left New York to live in an Indian ashram. The past rapidly seemed a millennium away, and the ’80s were cemented in pop culture almost as soon as they were over.
I remembered Brett all through the next three decades, though — his face, his manner and especially the fact that he never complained about his faded career or his drug addiction; he didn’t seem to feel sorry for himself.
Shaken to the core in the wake of David Bowie’s death, I thought of glam and decided, after all these years, to Google Brett Smiley.
I wasn’t surprised, knowing his history, to see the headline “Brett Smiley Dies at 60,” but was gobsmacked to see he’d died in his Brooklyn apartment just 48 hours before Mr. Bowie. He’d been found, the obituaries said, by family members and a friend who had been unable to contact him by phone.
And thus I spent the better part of the day getting to know the Brett I had never known and falling in love with the tiny, beautiful creature on the cover of “Breathlessly Brett” as one might have in 1974 — in the den with friends gathered around a turntable or in one’s bedroom. There was also Andrew Loog Oldham and a nervous Brett Smiley debuting on British TV with “Space Ace,” which Brett had expected to mime but had to perform live. His songs have played nonstop on my iPod since I downloaded them two days ago. It’s all Brett, all the time.
David Bowie, by contrast, does not need me to mourn him. I saw the 1976 film “The Man Who Fell to Earth” when it came out (though I didn’t understand it). I pulled my car over to listen to “Ashes to Ashes” in 1980 the first time it came over the radio because the snapping bass guitar opening the song was so compelling; I didn’t even know it was Mr. Bowie’s song until he started singing. I watched him at Live Aid during a break from the restaurant I was working at near Washington Square Park in 1985, and I’ve sung the words “This is ground control to Major Tom” in public about 500 times since I was 15. I’ve given him more than 40 years of my life, and the world will no doubt see to his legacy without my help.
But maybe Brett Smiley does need me to mourn him. I asked Mr. Oldham for his thoughts, and they were kind. “He was an irresistible spirit, a warrior, superb writer and chronicler of his and our times,” Mr. Oldham said. “A good person to have as a friend, a lovable rogue. He will be missed.”
Brett wasn’t Ziggy Stardust, the Thin White Duke or Major Tom, he didn’t end up getting to record and hang out with John Lennon and Mick Jagger and he didn’t make millions of dollars — not even close. But he was the Space Ace, as well as a talented, slightly mysterious guy who was nice to me when he had no reason to be. Brett Smiley didn’t change the world, but he’s left it now. He lived a life, and it mattered.
by Josh Max, Jan. 16, 2016
Tracks
1. Brett's Lullaby - 0:31
2. Highty Tighty - 2:59
3. Space Ace - 3:50
4. April In Paris - 3:29
5. Solitaire (Neil Sedaka) - 4:03
6. Va Va Va Voom - 3:12
7. Run For The Sun (Brett Smiley, Tony Freed) - 2:44
8. I Want To Hold Your Hand (John Lennon, Paul McCartney) - 2:55
9. Pre-Columbian Love - 2:14
10.Queen Of Hearts - 3:49
11.I Can't Help Myself / Over The Rainbow (Brian Holland, Edward Holland, Jr., Lamont Dozier / Isidore Hochberg, Harold Arlen) - 2:49
12.Young At Heart (Carolyn Leigh, Johnny Richards) - 2:08
The self-titled debut by Orion Express was released in 1975 on the Round Mound Of Sound label. Hailing from California, Orion Express deliver rural hard psych/rock with acid guitar jamming. As with many of the 'back woods' guitar bands of that era the influences of Greg Allman and the Allman Brothers are never far away, with swirling keyboards, wailing leads, bluesy southern rock. great harp work... you can tell these guys were playing with the wind in their hair and the West coast sun in their faces!! Vocal comparisons are hard to tie down but Greg Allman, Paul Rodgers and a less warbly Roger Chapman all spring to mind!! Its good time summer boogie... the way it should be played.
Tracks
1. Hey Mama (Mick Martin) - 2:20
2. Blackness of Your Thoughts (Robbie Smith) - 4:19
3. Don't Give Up On Me (Mick Martin) - 4:50
4. Gotta Get the First Plane Home (Ray Davies) - 1:56
5. Mercury Blues (Steve Miller, K.C. Douglas) - 2:14
6. Hard Goin' Up (Bettye Crutcher) - 5:56
7. Down the Rail (Mick Martin) - 2:18
8. Time for Livin' (Robbie Smith) - 2:54
9. Another Bar Song (For Audrey) (Mick Martin) - 3:00
10.Your Mind Is On Vacation (Mose Allison) - 1:56
11.Misty Daydreams (Robbie Smith) - 3:46
12.Sunshine Lady (Richard Russom, Mick Martin) - 4:42
The second version of Strongbow started when Dave Smith met Bill Bendler when both were playing in the Rhodes Brothers touring band. David (drums) and Bill (vocals, trombone) wanted to play in a progressive hard rock band, so they left and got together with Sandy Edelstine (formerly of the Jaguars/Baroque Montly) and Bud Fowler to form Axis. Later in 1972 "Buzz" Ashton replaces Edelstine on guitar, and Mike Haines returns on bass. The band resurrects the Strongbow name and plays a lot of gigs in Michigan. Ashton departs, to be replaced with Michael Shortland (guitar) and John Stelzer (organ, sax, flute, synth, and vocals).
In the summer (likely July) of 1973 Strongbow went to Cleveland Recording and cut two original songs - "If You're Going to the City" (by John Stelzer) and "Change" (by Bill Bendler and Mike Haines). The 45 was released on the band's own Epodus label with the songs published under "Pizza music" - "If You Don't Like it, Eat It"!
John Durzo provides a first hand account - "I joined in October 1973. Mike Haines had just quit. The line-up was Bill Bendler, John Stelzer, Michael Shortland, and David Smith. It was an INCREDIBLE band, a musician's band. We toured throughout Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, West Virginia, Georgia and Florida. We opened for Ted Nugent at Alex Cooley's Electric Ballroom and then six months later came in as the opening act for Elvin Bishop. We opened for Bob Seger, Cactus, Thee Image, and tons of other national and regional acts. The writing of the band was definitely edgy, but the covers we played ranged from Iron Man to Can't Get Next To You. We kind of had a Uriah Heep/Deep Purple sound, due largely to the Hammond B3, but also had horn arrangements in some songs and straight forward driving rockers. We had a LARGE following who would pack every show we did, especially after the album was released. The disolution of the band was mainly due to poor management and the record company going belly up. I left in 1976 to play with a group called Tyler, and Mike Shoaf (ed. note - Mike had been in local bands in the 60s, including the Gears) took my place. I believe that Strongbow lasted until 1977, or there about."
Strongbow released an LP in 1975 on Buddah's Southwind subsidiary. The band had recorded a demo LP of seven original songs at Owl in Columbus, but re-recorded them at Buddah's request. John Durzo - "The reason for re-recording was the record company (Southwind) didn't like the sound quality (or they wanted to be able to fleece more money from us somehow). Mega Sound Studios in Bailey, NC, was - as I recall - a rat-infested little dump out in the middle of a field, miles from civilization. It sounded okay there, and there was room to spread the equipment out and isolate big amps (Ampeg SVTs) with fans from the speaker cabinets and mics, etc. The album kind of got wimpy-ized during the mastering or pressing. That's why I prefer the Owl demos on Con Carne to the actual album. It sounded more "Strongbow." In 2001 the band released a CD of the Owl recordings entitled "Con Carne" - a meatier sound. "We played all the album songs live. Our concert sets were usually 95% original. When we were on the bar circuit, we had a pile of covers that we used to fill the 4 or 5 sets per night."
"In 1975, Strongbow went on a western jaunt, playing in Sioux Falls, SD on our way to California. We went to the Starwood in LA, where we opened for Lydia Pense and Cold Blood for 3 nights, then opened for Ruby Starr and Grey Ghost for another 3 nights. One of Michael Shortland's old girlfriends was living out there and brought in her boyfriend to see a show. It was John Mayall of John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers fame He actually got up on stage with us and jammed for 40 minutes. What a set! Boy, was Ruby Starr's entourage pissed off! Oh, well. We went back to his house and helped him celebrate his son's 16th birthday party. Quite a list of Rock'n'roll Who's Who there as well. Joe Cocker, Richie Blackmore, then I passed out.....from there, back to Columbus for a couple of months of sold-out shows."
Now here’s a blues album for ya. Recorded in 1968 and getting its first-ever CD release, Magic Sam Live at the Avant Garde is a time capsule from the days when this Chicago blues trio could step into a Milwaukee club and tear the place up. Magic Sam’s guitar throttling is dextrous, snaky but always clean, and his rhythm section of Big Mojo Elam on bass and Bob Richey on drums keeps everything moving along nicely. From instrumental opener “San-Ho-Zay” to well-worn standards such as “Hoochie Coochie Man”, the band is simultaneously energetic, laid back and tighter than a watch spring.
Sam’s vocals are unvarnished but honest in the way that true blues delivery requires, and the between-song patter is just a bonus (one that does not wear out its welcome, either). There’s no showing off here, as Sam is a practitioner of the “less is more” school of guitar wizardry, but the solos are extensive and note-perfect without being busy. Standout cuts include the nervy “Lookin’ Good” and the murky, downtempo “It’s All Your Fault, Baby”, but the whole album is smoking hot. Sam tragically passed away in 1969, but this recording stands as a testament to his mastery.
Eschewing their normal frenzied mix of soul and rock, the brothers package their socially uplifting messages more in James Brown-style funk than usual. They produce the album themselves and their ambition often exceeds their grasp. String orchestrations by band members Brian Keenan and Joe Chambers clutter an already-busy mix. The title track is the kind of extended rave-up that seems to be on every one of their albums. "Going to the Mill" closes the session with a straightforward, and welcome, shot of gospel.
by Mark Allan
Tracks
1. Are You Ready (Joseph Chambers) - 3:50
2. Young Girl (Lester Chambers, Willie Chambers) - 3:39
3. Funky (Lester Chambers) - 2:54
4. When The Evening Comes (C. LaMarr) - 6:40
5. Practice What You Preach (Joseph Chambers) - 3:32
6. Reflections (George Chambers) - 5:24
7. Pollution (Joseph Chambers) - 1:48
8. New Generation (C. LaMarr, Joseph Chambers) - 11:55
Revival is a country-rock band founded by the East Coast folk duo of Dan Daley and Michelle Conway. They built around strong two, three and four part harmonies, this group touches more bases than the country‐rock which dominates the album. There are two beautiful ballads—”I Was, You Were” and “Words No. 1”—and an exciting pop jazz number, “Barbara.” Mi chelle Conway's gutsy vocal solo on the latter serves as much as a musical instru ment as the coneyor of the lyrics.
All but three of the songs contained herein—Gerry Se gal's comment on deception, “Darrell Heywood,” Merie Haggard's classic “Mama Tried,” and Bobby Flax and Lanny Lambert's tuneful if innocuous “One Too Many Goodbyes” — are originals from the pen of lead singer and guitarist Dan Daley, who shows promise in all three areas. As a composer he moves freely between the country and pop idioms. As a vocalist he is clean and straight‐foward.
Rounding out the group are bass player Paul Guzzone and drummer Mike Malfesi, both of whom also sing. Though the quartet is moving in sev eral directions at once, the vocal harmonies hold every thing tightly and happily together.
by Ira Mayer, March 26, 1972
Tracks
1. Way That It Feels (Dan Daley) - 3:35
2. Mama Tried (Merle Haggard) - 2:23
3. So Hard Lovin' (Mike Malfesi, Dan Daley) - 2:24
4. I Was, You Were (Dan Daley) - 4:47
5. One Too Many Goodbyes (Bobby Flax, Lanny Lambert) - 2:18
The Jaggerz, who formed in the Beaver Falls/Aliquippa Pennsylvania, around 1965, released their first single in 1968 and produced their first album on Philadelphia's Huff-Gamble label in 1969. Although they regarded themselves as a rhythm and blues act, The Jaggerz broke the charts with "The Rapper", a more pop sounding single they recorded on the Kama Sutra label in 1970. "The Rapper" reached the number one spot in the pop music charts in March of that year, and became a gold record. (Based on the success of their single, The Jaggerz toured the country and appeared on Dick Clark's American Bandstand.
After band member Jimmie Ross left to join the Skyliners in 1975, the Jaggerz disbanded. More recently, Ross, along with three other original band members, revived the group earlier this year and released a CD of old Jaggerz favorites, as well as some new tunes.
Tracks
1. The Rapper (Dominic Ierace) - 2:47
2. I Call My Baby Candy (Dominic Ierace) - 3:02
3. Memoirs Of The Traveller (Joe Rock, Dominic Ierace, Benny Faiella) - 3:33
4. With A Little Help From My Friends (John Lennon, Paul McCartney) - 6:39
