Wax On Wax #3: Collaboration Albums
This week on Wax On Wax we are exploring some of our favorite collaboration albums. Artists coming together to meld styles, and redirect each other's creativity can result in amazing music. I often look to film as a place where true collaboration takes place, as there are so many moving pieces. Musicians and bands can often lose this, be it from a producer taking over a project or the lead songwriter assuming control. Bands like The Beatles are rarer and rarer these days, where you might have a group of three or four songwriters coming together to push and pull each other into something unique. We've got some very interesting records to check out this week, let's dive in.
If you've ever experienced the ecstasy of true musical discovery with another person, you'll have a good starting place for My Life In The Bush of Ghosts, David Byrne's first solo album recorded with Brian Eno between Talking Heads releases in 1980. There is a certain amount of freedom and excitement that comes from tackling a new musical project with a collaborator. You realize how you complement each other, the strengths you bring to each recording, and what can sometimes come from wild abandon into uncharted territory. The music on this album is almost completely sample focused, in fact, its release was delayed by several months while lawyers scrambled to seek all the copyright clearance necessary for its debut. It's an album of extraordinary displays of tape looping, editing, mixing, performance, and creativity. David Byrne brings his brand of afro-nerd-funk to its zenith and combined with the seemingly unending soundscape textures of Brian Eno, this album screams out of the speakers.
My Life In The Bush of Ghosts was recorded between the Talking Heads releases Fear of Music and Remain In Light though it was released after due to copyright clearance issues. This album is the perfect prelude to Remain In Light, an album that features loose jams by the band which are sampled, cut up, and used as the base for David Byrne's vocals. The difference on this album is it's so clear that Eno and Byrne had yet to perfect any of the techniques that would later show up on Remain In Light. Everything they are doing here feels very exploratory but edited with extreme precision. Looping drums, sampling esoteric spoken word recordings, and combining samples was virtually unheard of at the time. Albums like this, due to all of the rights and usage issues involved, are unicorns. They only come along every once in a while, because the music industry has made it more and more difficult to get away with something like this. The only album that may leapfrog this one in sample usage is the Beastie Boy's Pauls Boutique which famously had so many samples that the courts basically said: "We'll let you get away with this ONE time, but after this, there will never be another album like this again". For the most part, despite hip hop being extremely sample-based, we've yet to see many widely released albums that rely on sample usage as the primary driver quite like this one does.
Byrne described the samples on this record as "the lead singer" and as far as I can tell neither he nor Eno show up on this record vocally. Instead what we hear are radio DJ excerpts, rhythmic chants, noises, found instruments, and a group of Lebanese mountain singers. The original release of this album featured a track called "Qu'ran" which showcased said mountain singers chanting passages from The Qu'ran. The Islamic Council of Great Britan requested the removal of the song after the first pressings of the album were already sent out, and subsequent editions of the album do not feature this song. I was delighted to find out my vinyl copy of this album contained that track which would make my copy one of the earliest that saw release.
Side B of the album slows down considerably and I would consider this to be the point where Brian Eno truly is able to stretch his wings as an essential element of the album. The songs become much less funky and more akin to his ambient recordings from around that time. The way these two color each other's contributions is fascinating. A song like "Mountain of Needles" has that indelible Eno expansiveness, but is anchored to the earth by the ever present rhythm of David Byrne. And likewise, the more funky Byrne songs on the first side are made all the more weird and wonderful by Eno.
There aren't enough good things to say about this album. It may not be for everyone, and it may take a bit of prior familiarity with Talking Heads and Brian Eno to completely grasp and enjoy. But if you can wrap your head around the music contained on this record it can really open your mind to the endless possibilities of what an album can be. All genres are on the table, all sounds are usable, and nothing is too weird. Plus you can dance to it. It's a nearly perfect album from two of music's most cherished creatives and we are all the more fortunate that they came together to make it.
Listening to Painted From Memory, the 1998 collaboration between Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharach is midnight heartache in the elevator, heading back home after another long look at the bottom of the glass. Bacharach's signature muted horns, and classical 60s style arrangements work surprisingly well as a showcase for Costello's powerful and dynamic voice. You can hear a concerted effort in the production to make it sound like a record out of time. In no way does this scream 1998 but it should be noted that there is inherent cheese present in this kind of adult contemporary, 'late nights with Delilah' style. But every piece of Bacharach schmaltz is balanced well by Costello's cool. Save for a few shimmering keyboards, this album is clearly throwing back to Bacharach's lounge heyday with success more or less. Nothing on this album soars to quite the same heights as their most famous work, but they both manage to bring out the best in each other.
This album is Elvis Costello with Burt Bacharach, and that is very much felt. These songs are all showcases for Elvis done more or less on Bacharach's home turf. The album features a full band along with backup singers, horns, and even strings on some tracks. Painted From Memory is very melancholy, and is a surprising turn for two musicians who at their best can be so fun to listen to. The fun here is finding where and when the two of them combine and how their styles mesh to form a very odd balance between Elvis's new wave and Bacharach's baroque lounge. It is an odd pairing at first glance but the more you listen the more you realize that these two were a natural fit for each other, especially at this juncture in their careers. The album is a late-night bender, down, out, and hopeless; full of "what could have beens" running through your mind. Supposedly the two of them composed the album by sharing 3am voicemails with each other over less than a week. The late-night writing sessions bleed into the feel of the recordings. Listen with the lights low.
Elvis's vocals are noticeably dry and upfront on these recordings, which does well to show off just how remarkable of a singer he is. Elvis Costello has always struck me as more than the product of his initial surroundings. Yes, his early work with The Attractions was perfect new wave punk, but even then it was clear the craftsmanship in the songwriting and arrangements was so much more ambitious than that of his contemporaries. Costello has always felt to me like he was closer to singer-songwriters like Springsteen, Dylan, and Tom Petty, rather than Joey, Johnny, and Dee Dee. That being said, this album is so chock full of ballads that it makes you want to give the guy a hug, put a guitar in his hands and say "Dude, you're Elvis Costello. Cheer up, let's play some rock and roll." However, the worst thing you can do as a music fan is pigeon-hole an artist like Elvis Costello. What makes him so fascinating and loveable as a songwriter is how diverse and wide his influences and musical pursuits can be. A side tangent into an hour of moody ballads is welcome more than it needs to be forgivable.
Bacharach falls into the background tapestry of the album, and his influence is felt almost more as a producer than a co-writer. These songs take Elvis's strengths as a vocalist and recontextualize them into heartwrenching ballads. There are plenty of clear flourishes of Bacharach, from the big, expansive pianos, to the lush orchestration, and instrumentation. You can tell Elvis knew that there was only one way to make a Bacharach album and that was to go out and get the man himself. Bacharach gives the arrangements a real sense that there is a composer behind this material. These songs feel like they were put to pad and paper, and at times have the energy usually only found in a classical orchestra. Bacharach is the conductor to Elvis's 1st Chair Violin.
I don't think this album is for everybody, nor is it for any time. But if you'd like to hear two masters intertwined in an incredibly natural way, you can do worse than this. These two had a clear purpose and intent behind the writing and recording of this album and they succeed at all of their goals. Bacharach sounds like his mid-century self, and Costello is put forward to shine like the punk rock Bocelli that he apparently is. All artists should be afforded the ability to wear their hearts on their sleeves and to occasionally cut that sadness vein and let the heartache bleed out. Clearly, these two found camaraderie and a bond through those mid-career blues that eventually come for everyone, no matter how great they are or how fun they once were. Painted From Memory is a slightly frustrating but beautiful album, and a rare exposed nerve from an artist like Costello.
The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark is the country-rock album that truly started it all. Before The Band, Dylan, The Flying Burrito Brothers, and many others broke through with their own additions to the scene in the late 60s, I am fairly confident they were all listening to this album. It's really the first true intersection of country, rock, and folk turning into what we now know as "Americana" which has since become kind of an umbrella term for all music that can trace its lineage back to the American heartland. Clark and Dillard are top-notch, but with bassist Bernie Leadon co-writing so many great songs I think that this album should have been credited to Dillard, Clark & Leadon. They are a formidable trio with formidable accolades. Gene Clark of course had just left The Byrds (after shortly rejoining and then leaving again), Doug Dillard had stints in multiple fantastic bluegrass bands, and Bernie Leadon famously went on to join The Flying Burrito Brothers and co-found The Eagles after Dillard & Clark dissolved. The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark is as accessible as it is exceptional, and if you haven't pressed play already go ahead and do so now.
If you've ever been around musicians sharing beers, sharing acoustic guitars, and sharing verses you'll have a pretty good idea of what this album is like. It's the magic of supremely talented musicians in an informal setting, playing for fun. It's indescribable in a way. Party by The Beach Boys has this quality, even many of the MTV Unplugged albums share this undergirding of excitement. The performances are no less impressive because of how laid back everything is, in reality, they sound effortless. It's like being on a back porch singing songs with your dog, or passing a guitar around a bonfire with friends. There is a musical kinship between the artists in this music that shines through.
When I was in college in Boston, my friends and I used to host these musical jam sessions that we dubbed "Bluegrass Night". Never once did we actually play bluegrass, but we played music that owed part of its spirit to bluegrass. We'd drink, laugh, and sing at the top of our lungs while singing Dylan, Creedence, Neil, Hank Williams, you name it. It was a great way to loosely explore the boundaries of our musicianship without feeling like you're walking the plank in front of an audience. Our audience was each other, and a flub during a guitar solo elicited as big of a laugh as a good one drew cheers. These are the magic moments between musicians that are rarely captured, and cannot really be replicated in a recording studio setting. Well, most of the time and I think you know what I'm getting at.
It's mind-boggling that I haven't heard this album before, as this kind of music is right in my wheelhouse. After doing some cursory research, it turns out there is a reason for the obscurity of this set of songs. They botched the release. Aside from a short stint at famed LA venue The Troubador, there was virtually no support for this album upon its release. Gene Clark reportedly had anxiety about flying which put the kibosh on any tour plans. The album has since fallen into the nebulous category of "musician's music", and only the nerdiest of genre-heads sing its praises. Dillard & Clark recorded a 2nd much less heralded album before ultimately going their separate ways but not before this album left its mark. The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark truly deserves a 2nd life, and with songs like these, I believe it's only a matter of time before it does.
Rough Mix almost wasn't a collaboration. Ronnie Lane of Small Faces fame asked Pete Townshend to produce his next album in the mid-70s and after some back and forth with Townshend also looking to realize his next batch of songs, the two joined forces and hired Glyn Johns to produce a joint effort. What results is almost a non-collaboration-collaboration. The two alternate songs on the tracklisting, and wind up having different ideas for what this album should be. Its a "Rough Mix" if you will (I can leave, it's fine). Ronnie Lane seems to be trying to make a more country-bluegrass record, and Pete Townshend is using his set of songs to explore his brand of The Who-lite. Despite their divergent focus what is surprising is how cohesive it winds up being anyway. The reason for this is not just that Ronnie and Pete are on every song, it is the other all-star collaborators that they bring in that really pull the album together. This album has country, bluegrass, boogie, blues, and rock. It's everything you'd expect from this group of players and more. It doesn't sound forced, but it's two guys knowing they are going in different directions trying to pull together, with compelling results.
This album features contributions from Eric Clapton, John Entwistle, Boz Burrell (King Crimson), and Ian Stewart and Charlie Watts of The Rolling Stones. Clapton plays guitar on several of the songs, including "Rough Mix" which is a fun, classic, rock/blues instrumental and is the only tune co-written by Townshend and Lane. Clapton also adds beautiful dobro guitar on "April Fool," and is a perfect compliment to Lane. Entwistle, eschewing bass, adds french horn to a song, and Charlie Watts plays on the very un-Stones-y Townshend track "My Baby Gives it Away" and the fun "Catmelody." The MVP of all the hired guns has to be Glyn Johns. Johns is the reason this record sounds as cohesive as it does due to his deft hand behind production and engineering duties. It should be no surprise that the drums on this album sound absolutely fantastic, no doubt due to Johns' patented "Glyn Johns Technique," which is easily one of my favorite ways to record drums.
If I had to pick which direction this album went in, I think Ronnie Lane was hitting on something a bit more interesting and timeless than Townshend. Ronnie's songs are pastoral and sweet, and he really feels like he had something he needed to get out of his system and on to tape. It was discovered during the recording of Rough Mix that Lane had developed multiple sclerosis, which he would live with for 21 years before he died in 1997. Maybe it was mortality writing itself on the wall, but Lane seems to be touching on something a bit more deft and delicate than his counterpart.
Townshend's songs sound like they could have been castaways written during The Who's most recent tour. That's not a bad thing, but it illustrates that his contributions to Rough Mix could have easily been Who songs had the band not been on a break at the time. Some of his songs are very "dad rock" to use the modern, common parlance, but for the most part, just have a bit more edge to them than the Lane songs. Townshend is big and bombastic even when asked to contribute to some country folk songs, and you have to love him for it. Pete Townshend can't not be Pete Townshend.
This album did not sell well, and Pete and Ronnie went their separate ways after this recording for the most part. Townshend returned to The Who after a year apart, soldiering on through the death of drummer Keith Moon. Lane received support from his family and friends in the music industry for his condition for the rest of his life. Even Jimmy Page and a few others paid for his hospital treatment in the 90s. Rough Mix would prove to be one of the last moments these two had before mortality came bearing down on them like a truck. It's one last weekend of innocent fun, jamming, doing something unimportant because nothing is important. 1976 was the last year the great artists of the 1960s could really hold court. Punk rock reared its head and killed off the dinosaurs with great haste in '77 and never looked back. Rough Mix is an album that is looking forward to what is coming next - for one last time.
Check in next week, we’ll be covering early 90’s gems.
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