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November 2007

Gentleman Jim Capaldi: Traffic’s Freedom Rider

Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

The late Jim Capaldi, lyricist/drummer/vocalist for the band Traffic, spent a good portion of his career playing second banana to the mega-talented Steve Winwood. His gregarious nature and willingness to jam at the drop of a drum stick earned him the nicknames “Gentleman Jim” and “Gentle Heart.” A talented vocalist in his own right, he fronted The Hellions in the early 60s with future Trafficker Dave Mason and later Deep Feeling, featuring future Spooky Tooth/Mott the Hoople guitarist Luther Grosvenor. Capaldi shifted back to playing drums when he formed Traffic with child prodigy Winwood, Mason and sax/flute/keyboard player Chris Wood in 1967. Capaldi’s lone lead vocal during the group’s first four albums was “Dealer,” an exotic mix of flamenco and folk included on the group’s debut “Mr. Fantasy.” Capaldi remained the group’s lyricist/drummer through Traffic’s fourth album, the classic “John Barleycorn Must Die,” released in 1970. Losing confidence in his abilities as a percussionist and wanting to stretch out as a performer, Capaldi became the group’s second vocalist/third percussionist and M.C. when Traffic added drummer Jim Gordon, bassist Rick Grech and percussionist Anthony “Reebop” Kwaku Baah to record the live “Welcome to the Canteen” and their magnum opus “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys.” Capaldi’s resonant R &B vocals on his solo composition “Light Up Or Leave Me Alone” and Grech/Gordon’s “Rock and Roll Stew” on “Low Spark” provided a pleasing contrast to Winwood’s saintly tones, and re-established Capaldi as a voice to be reckoned with. When Winwood was struck down by peritonitis and “Low Spark’s” follow up tour was curtailed, Capaldi continued to stoke his creative fires by recording his first solo album, “Oh How We Danced.” From 1972 until his death from stomach cancer on January 28, 2005, Capaldi would record thirteen solo albums. As a composer, he was a five time BMI/ASCAP award winner for most played compositions in America, penned “This Is Reggae Music” for Bob Marley, and had “Love Will Keep Us Alive” picked up by the Eagles for their “Hell Freezes Over Album.” He and his wife Aninha founded Jubilee Action, which aids homeless children in Brazil. By all accounts, Jim Capaldi was a real gentleman.

Oh How We Danced (5 out of 5 stars)

With so many past, present and future members of Traffic on board, “Oh How We Danced” was viewed as an extension of the group’s “Low Spark of High Heeled Boys” album. But the eclectic 8-song collection served notice that Jim Capaldi was a superb writer, singer, arranger and producer in his own right.

Past members of Traffic were sprinkled throughout the album: Steve Winwood and Rebop appeared on three cuts, and Chris Wood and the ostracized Dave Mason were on a pair each as well. The group’s current line up (Capaldi, Winwood, Wood, Rick Grech, Jim Gordon and Rebop Kwaku Baah) were present for the very un-Traffic-like pop/gospel tune “Open Your Heart;” while future members Barry Beckett (keyboards), David Hood (bass) and Roger Hawkins (drums) did the majority of the heavy lifting. Other guest musicians lent their trademark sound to the mix. Former Free guitarist and high flying junkie Paul Kossoff’s writhing tremolo raises eyebrows whenever he appears, Spooky Tooth drummer Mike Kellie shows how effective subtly can be, and Harry Robinson turns the string section into an expression of Capaldi’s raw emotion.

The ballad “Eve” opens gently with Capaldi’s smoldering baritone and Barry Beckett’s simple piano accompaniment. Beckett begins to punch up the rhythm as Jimmy Johnson picks a pristine solo and wraps it around the buttery chords of Winwood’s Hammond. Drummer Roger Hawkins picks up the rhythmic baton, kicking up the tempo another notch as the Muscle Shoals horns bust in, transforming “Eve” from a contemplative ballad into full-blown Motown sway. “Eve” earned Capaldi widespread FM airplay in the U.S., reaffirming his newly established persona as a singer.

The mood shifts to smooth country with “Big Thirst.” Robinson’s strings sear like a San Antonio sun in August, estranged Traffic member Dave Mason plays a flawless lonesome prairie solo on harp, and Barry Beckett contributes a fading solo on organ at the song’s end that’s as smooth as a tall glass of spring water in a desert. Capaldi’s vocal is gunslinger steady and he’s supported on the chorus by Su and Sunny Whetman, the busiest and best back up singers in the business.

“Love Is All You Can Try” has a honky tonk/New Orleans flavor, thick, spicy and blissful. Beckett rides the keyboard with the ease of a man marinated in the soul of Fats Domino, while Winwood boogies confidently on guitar. The Muscle Shoals horns rise with good-time intent and Capaldi lets his alley cat persona loose, his tongue planted firmly in his cheek: “I asked a man for some directions, in the early morning frost. ‘I’m a stranger in this town’ he said, ‘To tell you the truth, we’re both quite lost.’ The temperature was slowly dropping, from our head down to our toes, and the only thing that I could see was the icicles around my nose. ‘Cause I’ve been to the end and back round again, and I know not how or why. But I do know love is free for the asking, and love, sweet love, is all you can try.”

Capaldi seldom played any instrument other than the drums on either Traffic’s albums or his own releases. On the intro to “The Last Day Of Dawn” he dons an acoustic guitar, shredding the strings as if he’s feeding them to a cheese grater. Rebop is in a controlled percussive fugue (for a man who always sounds like three men), and Harry Robinson’s string arrangement rises and falls like a fully loaded dive bomber. Capaldi’s doomsday lyrics drive home his desperation: “Can’t stop this feeling inside my heart. Can’t stop feeling that’s tearing me apart. It’s been with me ever since the day I was born, and it’ll be with me, on the last day of dawn.” P.S. the original L.P. version of this song had an extended intro by Capaldi. When I purchased the CD and discovered part of the intro was missing, I wrote Alan Robinson who honchoed the project to ask “Whassup?” He wrote back that the ravages of time had turned part of Gentleman Jim’s intro into dust. Pity.

The somber “Don’t Be A Hero” is the closest Capaldi gets to a wet blanket performance. Coming on the similarly themed but raucous “Last Day Of Dawn,” its lack of a pulse forces you to focus on its subtleties, such as Dave Mason’s white hot solo that melts into Harry Robinson’s fallen angel strings and Barry Beckett’s doomsday piano. “Don’t Be A Hero” isn’t a pleasant song, but it’s not meant to be.

At first listen, “Open Your Heart” appears to be a pedestrian pop ballad. The easy-going love song taps Traffic’s personnel from “The Low Spark Of High Heeled Boys” period – Winwood (organ), Rebop (percussion), Wood (sax, but slightly buried in the mix), Rick Grech bouncing the beat on bass and a tranquil (likely tranquilized) Jim Gordon on drums. (“Open Your Heart” is probably an outtake from the “Low Spark” sessions, but the song’s catchy, breezy feel didn’t fit the album’s ecological theme and it was left out.) A rare treat is hearing Capaldi play the piano, something he never did in Traffic. Despite a slight gaffe at the end, you have to wonder why Capaldi didn’t tickle the ivories more often. Just when “Open Your Heart” threatens to become wishy-washy bubble gum, Rebop’s whistle signals a call to arms, switching the tone from pop to gospel. The band claps, stomps and shouts with uninhibited joy, and what could have been a filler tune becomes a highlight.

“How Much Can A Man Really Take?” is unique to the album both in terms of its approach and personnel. Traffic’s two free spirits, percussionist Rebop and Chris Wood are on board, along with light-finger finesse drummer Mike Kellie from Spooky Tooth, bassist Trevor Burton from the Move, session vet Bob Griffin on piano and Free’s slashing guitarist Paul Kossoff. Capaldi’s skill at turning a phase is in evidence throughout as he relates an exotic tale of a soul searching traveler: “How much can a man really take, when he’s pushed himself too far? He knows that his mind is on the break, and he’s trying to reach that star. How many times have I seen him fall? How many times too many to recall…Fate was about to deal him a card from the bottom of the pack. And he met his end in fair Nepal, with a dagger in his back…” Wood’s flute knife’s through the verses, and Kellie pings out a steady, non-intrusive beat with Rebop filling the empty spaces. As Capaldi’s vocal ends, Kossoff sails into the stratosphere, coaxing out a fiery tremolo that’s more convincing than any solo he ever played with Free.

Who knew a song co-written by Al Jolson could rock? (Yes, the same man who made black people cringe by carving a career out of wearing burnt cork and singing “Mammy”.) But “Oh How We Danced” is a rumbling powerhouse driven by David Hood’s Peter Gunn bass and a full out attack by the Muscle Shoals horns, who blast out of your speakers with enough power to blow the cork right off Jolie’s face. Kossoff is back with a fret burning solo and the arrangement rises out on a bed of cool with Capaldi clapping ecstatically and Wayne Thompson blowing hard on the sax.

Whale Meat Again (4 out of 5 stars)

Returning to the studio in 1974 amidst Traffic’s death throes, Capaldi gave the musicians he worked with freer reign to jam. As a result, “Whale Meat Again” contains only seven songs, one of which, the closer, “Summer Is Fading,” is over eight minutes long. Despite fattening the solos, Capaldi remained a cutting lyricist and maintained a keen sense of including something for everyone’s musical taste. “I’ve Got So Much Lovin’” is strutting, testosterone charged R & B in the realm of David Ruffin and Marvin Gaye mixed with Capaldi’s wry sense of humor: “Now people all over the world, are pretty much about the same. No matter what they are thinkin’ about, you can bet your life it’s some kinda game. I wanna tell you right now, that’s not the way it is with me. ‘Cause my head’s been turned so many, many times, it’s a wonder that I can see.” The Muscle Shoals horns are back to lend a party time atmosphere alongside a phalanx of hooting, hand-clapping ladies.

“Low Rider,” (not the song by War) is slower paced street funk with strings sawing through the arrangement much in the same way they made “Papa Was A Rolling Stone” crackle with tension. In the absence of Paul Kossoff, Pete Carr slices the guitar strings with a solo that has the deadly action of a Thompson submachine gun. Capaldi’s lyrics trace the rise and fall of a neighborhood bad boy: “Rider passed by the local sheriff. Sheriff chased him, started chasing him with his gun. The rider lost him on the backstreets, then he burned the town up just for fun. Sheriff got mad, said ‘I’m gonna get that rider.’ He couldn’t stand to see that rider running free. He told the deputy, ‘Go round up a posse.’ He said to meet him outside Smokey Joe’s Café... Rider came down, through the town, the sheriff’s men they cut him down. Low rider, now they’ve finally got your crown.”

“My Brother” is the album’s only dead fish, scuttled by Beckett’s overripe synthesizer that sounds like a skill saw cutting through scrap metal. The powerful platoon of horns and Chris Stewart’s fuzz bass nearly rescue “My Brother,” but Capaldi’s “don’t let the man get you down” lyrics are surprisingly run of the mill.

If “Summer Is Fading” sounds like it could be an outtake from a Traffic album, it’s because of the percussive pounding of Rebop Kwaku Baah. Originally from Ghana, Rebop had an amazing grasp of world rhythms and seemingly boundless reservoirs of energy. Couple him with drummer Gaspar Lawal, add in spacey turns on the Hammond by Steve Winwood (who also plucks like James Jamerson on bass) and an appropriately world-weary vocal by Capaldi and you’ve got a memorable jam.

“It’s All Right” is the opener, a coy stab at pop with a bouncy beat produced by the combination of Steve Winwood on pipe organ, Roger Hawkins on drums and Barry Beckett on steel drum. Capaldi croons sweetly, while Pete Carr unspools a spiraling solo on acoustic guitar against a backdrop of Doris Day strings. Jim’s “gentle heart” is on display for all to hear.

Capaldi’s pun-adorned title track takes his reverence for the ecology and turns it into nasty, horn blaring blues. Carr deals out a series of blistering riffs against Capaldi’s hash criticism of the whaling industry: “Scientists are saying we’ve got do something soon, but sitting around talking about it ain’t gonna stop that harpoon. Whale meat again, when will it end? Not till everything is dead.” Not Capaldi’s sweetest sentiments, but this slime and blubber we’re talking about here. Following the innocence of “It’s All Right,” this hits you with the force of one of Captain Ahab’s hard steel harpoons.

“Yellow Sun” is Gentleman Jim as the romantic cowboy, a companion piece to “Big Thirst” on his first album. Riding the range on a bed of strings, Capaldi mourns a dead romance. Beckett saddles up with a high stepping piano solo and Carr makes his dobro sound as if it’s being played by the loneliest cowpoke on the prairie. “Yellow Sun” is a showcase for Capaldi the singer, whose voice conveys the need for the mellow warmth of someone’s love.

”Short Cut, Draw Blood” (4 out of 5 stars)

“Short Cut, Draw Blood” marked a beginning and an end. It marked the end of Traffic, which had slowly ground to a halt amidst Chris Wood’s increasing alcoholism and Steve Winwood’s malaise. It also celebrated the proper beginning of Jim Capaldi as a solo artist.

Now embroiled in full ecological warfare with “The Man,” Capaldi penned two ecological Armageddon pieces, “Living On a Marble,” and the title track. Both were preachy incitements that Save The Whales should have adopted as their mantra. Unfortunately, lines like “I’m tellin’ you that short cut’s gonna draw blood, and you’re gonna get your face pushed in the mud,” don’t necessarily make for great entertainment. The two septic shockers aside, the rest of the album blends ballads, sambas, reggae and soul quite nicely. It also features one of Capaldi’s biggest hits, an up-tempo version of “Love Hurts” that reached #4 in the U.K. (Capaldi’s progress in the U.S. was stymied by Nazareth’s overwrought take that clogged the airwaves.)

Although Traffic was at a standstill, all the latest members of the band appeared on the album. Rebop goes percussion mad on “Keep On Tryin’,” a Brazilian based goof that also features a street carnival trumpet solo from Rico Rodrigues. Chris Wood makes his final appearance on a Capaldi album with the closing “Seagull,” a wistful ballad, with the seafaring bird serving as a metaphor for freedom. Winwood adds acoustic guitar, mellotron and touches of harpsichord that blend together with the sound effect of cresting waves hitting the shore. Wood leaves a lasting, unsettling impression, his frail, far away flute musings sounding like a lost soul. Sadly, by now Wood was indeed a living ghost. He would eventually lose his battle with substance abuse, succumbing to pneumonia and liver disease in 1983, never completing his long-anticipated solo album, “Vulcan,” which he’d started when Traffic broke up in 1974.“Seagull” stands as a testament to his sensitive talents and as a eulogy for Traffic. When Capaldi sings “Fly away over the sun, fly away over the moon,” Wood’s sad, airy flute rises alongside, climbing like the little engine that could, but you know won’t.

The string laden “Boy With A Problem” was first thought to be about Free guitarist Paul Kossoff, Wood’s kindred party spirit in rock and roll excess. But the “silver stick” Capaldi refers to in the lyrics can only be interpreted as Wood’s flute, and the rest of the tale refers to a man enthralled with John Barleycorn (as Wood was) rather than a pill popper (which was Kossoff’s forte): “He tries so hard to keep himself together, but he’s so weak he can barely lift a feather. And it looks as though it’s gonna be bad weather, when he comes down from the clouds.” If there had been the type of rehab resorts for rockers that there are today, Wood certainly would have been a candidate. (I once had the pleasure of watching him careen off the stage in the middle of his solo for “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys.” Capaldi threw his drum sticks at him out of frustration.) Who knows how many albums Traffic might have recorded if Wood had taken the cure? On “Boy With A Problem,” Harry Robinson’s doom and gloom string section cuts through Capaldi’s damning lyrics like the Grim Reaper’s sharp scythe, making it one of the most powerful songs about self-abuse you’ll ever hear.

The albums first two tracks, “Goodbye Love” and “It’s All Up To You,” could have been hits if properly promoted. Still unsure of himself as a drummer, Gentleman Jim relies on a drum machine to carry the beat in “Goodbye Love,” punctuated by Rebop and Remi Kabaka on percussion. Ray Allen’s sax is a cool breeze, and although it would have been good to hear Chris Wood take this on, Wood was a jazzer, a rocker, and a great interpreter of folk music, but the type of soulful swagger “Goodbye Love” calls for wasn’t his strong suit. A sound-alike to Carole King’s “It’s Too Late,” “Goodbye Love” puts guest musician Steve Winwood back in the function of Captain Many Hands as he handles piano, organ, guitar and a fudgey bass.

The musicians on board for “It’s All Up To You” indicate it was an older song he recorded on the fly with session players. But Capaldi chose them well: John “Rabbit” Bundrick (Free/The Who) on piano and clavinet, Phil Chen (Rod Stewart) on bass and Jess Roden (The Alan Bown) on guitar, with the omnipresent Harry Robinson providing the string arrangements. Capaldi casts himself as a downcast, smitten man who tells his lover, “I wanna give you my love, could you ever love me to? But you never seem to notice me or what I’m going through…It’s all up to you.”

“Short Cut, Draw Blood” is capped by two covers Capaldi re-worked and rearranged, giving them new life. The hit “Love Hurts” bounces, thanks to Gerry Conway thwacking the cymbals with emphatic pleasure, Harry Robinson’s smartly cinematic strings, and the double electric piano attack of Jean Roussel and Steve Winwood. The remake of the reggae classic “Johnny Too Bad,” featuring Peter Yarrow (The Peter of Peter, Paul and Mary fame) on acoustic guitar, has an endearing accompaniment – on spoons – by Roger Hawkins, ska-like horns, and a carefree vocal by Capaldi. Ja mon, it’s a winner.

An appreciative fan of South American music, Capaldi became an expatriate in 1977 when he married Brazilian model Aninha. From 1978 to 1983, Jim Capaldi was more of an itinerant composer than a bona fide solo artist. He left the safety of Island Records to produce “The Contender,” (3 out of 5 stars) the sound track to a boxing film starring Hedgemon Lewis. The lack of a widespread release of the film in the U.S. negated the need to promote the release as a soundtrack. Oddly, instead of removing the songs from the soundtrack, wholesale changes were made to the tracks not in the movie. When the album came out in the U.S., the distributor, RSO, pinned its hopes on the burgeoning disco scene, renaming the album after the danceable “Daughter of the Night” (3 out of 5 stars). Omitted from the U.S. version was a passable, slick version of “Sealed With a Kiss,” an obvious ploy for Capaldi to score a hit with another oldie in England; and “Dirty Business,” a track that sounded way too much like “Jumping Jack Flash” for comfort. “The Game of Love,” was the most heinous omission, a teary lament and one of Capaldi’s most affecting -- and honest – assessments of love gone bad. The songs were replaced in the U.S. by the disco pounders “Stay With You,” and “A Good Love,” and the hedonistic “I’m Gonna Do It,’ with Steve Winwood sweating up the guitar strings, which was as close to an R-rated grunter as Gentleman Jim ever got. The end result was a confused public.

Capaldi’s follow up on RSO, “Electric Nights”(2 out of 5 stars), came out a year later in 1979. The weak material indicated Gentleman Jim needed a break; with only the autobiographical “Hotel Blues,” the snarling “Wild Dogs” and the plaintive “Wild Geese” salvageable. At least Capaldi was occasionally back on the drums. Dropped by RSO, Capaldi put out the much improved “Sweet Smell of Success” (3 ½ stars out of 5) on the French LaCarre label in 1980. Despite containing an intriguing acoustic version of “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys,” the Spanish dancer beat of “Man With No Country” and telling the story of Traffic’s demise in “Every Man Must March To The Beat Of His Own Drum,” thanks to its limited distribution, the album barely had a whiff of success. A similar fate befell 1981’s “Let The Thunder Cry,” (2 ½ stars out of 5) a startling example of what was right and wrong with Capaldi’s career at that point (a little too much artistic freedom). Capaldi waxed an unnecessary by the numbers version of “Louie, Louie,” but luckily he only wasted 2:27. He saved his excess for “Bathroom Jane,” a tedious, pun-filled morass that should have been flushed instead of dragging itself out to 9:17. In between were ballads that showed promise (“Warm,” “Old Photographs” “Child In a Storm”) but they were all a bit heavy handed. If all the tunes were as striking as the Simon Kirke war-drum driven title track, “Let the Thunder Cry” wouldn’t have been so uneven. Capaldi finally took a two-year break and it helped get the creative juices flowing again, because 1983’s “Fierce Heart” was return to the stylistic brilliance of Gentleman Jim’s first three albums.

Fierce Heart (5 out of 5 stars)

The spirited sales of “Fierce Heart” reestablished Capaldi in the American market. After a slew of blasé albums on a variety of labels, Capaldi landed a deal with Atlantic Records. His first effort owed a huge debt to friend and former band mate Steve Winwood, so much so that if Winwood had insisted on equal billing no one would have complained. With Winwood taking on guitar, bass and keyboards, “Fierce Heart” has a sound similar to his current album, “Talking Back To The Night.”

“Fierce Heart” was such a labor of love for the two old friends that Winwood’s wife Nicole even joined in on background vocals, and Van Morrison, who dropped in for a visit, played acoustic guitar on the opener “Tonight Your Mine.” The song slithers like a limo easing down a slick city street on a dark night. It’s smooth and sophisticated, with Capaldi’s vocal processed to give it a dark quality. It’s a bit dated perhaps, but cool is cool.

The album yielded the surprise hook laden hit “That’s Love,” which glided along on Winwood’s synthesizers and Capaldi’s sympathetic vocal. One of the album’s highlights that should have been a single is “Back At My Place,” a sexy ballad with Barry White intentions enveloped in California sand and sun. Winwood’s synthesizer gleams, emitting an agile, feline beat as Capaldi croons like a beach blanket Dean Martin. With its languid beat and slurpy Mel Collins sax, the sweaty “I’ll Always Be Your Fool” is “The Postman Rings Twice,” set to music, a simmering story of a simp who continually gets burned by love and keeps coming back for more. Capaldi plays “the burning man,” to Stevie Lange’s “burning woman,” and it doesn’t take long to figure out what these two kids are getting so steamed up about.

“Fierce Heart” found Capaldi returning to his drum chair, but its former Spooky Tooth time keeper Bryson Graham who pounds confidently on “Bad Breaks” and “Runaway,” with Winwood’s instantly recognizable choir boy vocals in the background. “Living On the Edge” was the album’s other successful hit. Winwood’s sizzling as a frying pan keyboard work drips with a lysergic influence of the “mescalito song” as Capaldi’s percussion clomps along with the pace of a faithful burro. “Gifts of Unknown Things” leads the listener down a more mysterious, unmapped path, exploring the mysteries of the Incas.

Sticking with Atlantic Records, Capaldi produced a strong follow up to “Fierce Heart,” 1984s “One Man Mission” (4 out of 5 stars). With a supporting cast that included Small Faces/Humble Pie leader Steve Marriott, Carlos Santana, and Simon Kirke, Capaldi didn’t have to see through his mission completely alone. “Lost Inside Your Love,” written with the Santana band, featured Carlos’ trademark screaming bird solo, while “Nobody Loves You” matched Capaldi with the considerable singing talents of veteran songwriter Kenny Lynch. In the mystical “Warriors of Love,” Capaldi revisits his pent up despair over the plight of the American Indian, while “Tonight,” a cut originally on “Sweet Smell of Success” gets remade into a tight rocker thanks to Kirke gargantuan kicks on the bass drum and Peter Bonas’ enlivening guitar. Only one mission fails. “Young Savages” The Teddy Boy tough guy duet with Steve Marriott is unintelligible and wastes of Marriott’s bluesy register.

It would be another four years, an unusually long period for Capaldi, before the release of “Some Come Running,” (3 ½ out of 5 stars) in 1988 found him back home on Island Records. An impressive list of first rate musicians, including Steve Winwood, George Harrison, Eric Clapton, Mick Ralphs and Rosko Gee helped make some average material memorable. Capaldi’s voice and range improved during the lay off and he registers strong, sensuous vocals on “Voices In the Night,” and “Love Used to Be A Friend of Mine,” but the albums jewel is the title track, a song that sounds as if it was written about his long standing friendship with Winwood: “You’re not alone in the times when we’re apart. You should know that your name’s written in my heart. And when the storm is raging and no one hears the sound, don’t need to ask me twice, my feet won’t touch the ground. Some come running, all in the name of love. Some come running, some just turn and walk away. Some come running, I was born that way. You know I’ll never give up on you.” Floating on a backdrop of synthesizers, “Some Come Running,” is a soothing somewhat melancholy piece; you’ll smile in appreciation of two the old friend’s musical bond when Winwood does a call and response with Capaldi.

The Long Silence

After “Some Come Running” Capaldi concentrated on charity work, song writing and the possibility of a Traffic reunion. In 1993 the reunion became a reality, as he and Winwood recorded “Far From Home” under the Traffic moniker then assembled a new version of the band for a worldwide tour, (including Woodstock ’94). Capaldi was back at his kit, driving the music, the years of exposure to South American music and drum clinics having paid off. A reconstituted Traffic toured the U.S. for five months, headlining 75 shows before Winwood’s restlessness cut the reunion short.

Although Winwood spat on the ground Dave Mason slithered on, Capaldi had always maintained his friendship with the me-first guitarist, so it wasn’t a surprise when the duo toured together in 1998, producing the live CD “40,000 Headmen Tour (3 out 5 stars). What was surprising was some of the things Capaldi said about Winwood in the press. Angered that Traffic had bypassed South American and feeling the band had packed it in again too soon, Capaldi chided Winwood for being lazy and bohemian. Given Mason’s churlish personality, it didn’t take long for Capaldi to reverse his train of thought and beg off the second leg of his tour. (Personal aside… I met both Gentleman Jim and Mason backstage after their concert in Tarrytown, New York. Capaldi was polite but heading out the door. Mason, sitting all alone at a table, actually invited me to sit down with him and enjoy some of the post-concert snacks. He warned me in advance not to talk about “That keyboard player,” but loved talking about Mick Fleetwood, who’d put him up and gave him a gig in his band when Mason was financially strapped.)

In the meantime, seven years passed between solo releases for Capaldi. Recorded in fits and spurts in Germany, 2001’s “Living on the Outside” (3 out of 5 stars) shows Capaldi still had plenty to say. The nostalgic Mersey Beat single, “Anna Julia,” featured pals George Harrison and Paul Weller in what would be one of Harrison’s last appearances. “Heart of Stone,” put Gary Moore, one of rock’s muscle-headed guitarists in the forefront. Elsewhere, drummer Ian Paice of Deep Purple and the ever dependable Winwood made appearances. Capaldi’s biting cynicism is back in evidence in the title track, a backhanded swipe at the cell phone generation: “Creepin’ down the alley, searchin’ through the trash. You used to own your own chalet, before the market crashed. Now your clothes are torn and dirty, and your face is lookin’ mean. Valentino and Versace, it was such an ugly scene. When you were living on the inside, the inside, where you thought you had to be. But I’m livin’ on the outside, the outside, and it don’t bother me.”

Not So Lucky 13
The End for Gentleman Jim

Traffic was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on March 15, 2004. Winwood, Capaldi and even Dave Mason were there, but when it came time to perform “Dear Mr. Fantasy” Mason stood on the sidelines, insulted that he’d been asked to play bass instead of guitar. The continued enmity between Winwood and Mason didn’t dampen the evening for Capaldi, who was recognized for being as responsible for Traffic’s sound as Winwood. In November, Capaldi released his thirteenth, and last solo album.

“Poor Boy Blue” (4 out of 5 stars) was a strong coda to a long career. The title track is a combination of Mississippi delta blues and gut bucket rock in the tradition of Z.Z. Top’s “La Grange” – co-writer Bryson Graham assaults the drums with the same decibel breaking fury he used on Spooky Tooth’s “Cotton Growing Man.” Capaldi knew he wasn’t going to be able to look “Into the Void,” without getting caught up in its life-ending vortex, so the song is rightfully dark with Capaldi’s vocal is gruff and nightmarish: “Into the void, into the void, into the void we all go.” “California Sunset” harkens back to the romantic west coast sound of “Back At My Place” from “Fierce Heart,” while the power ballad “Edge of Love” is saturated with a late 80s approach along the lines of Eddie Money’s “Take Me Home Tonight.” “Getting Stronger” with its “All Right Now” beat (provided by Simon Kirke who played on it) is a Capaldi keeper featuring the ironic line “I’m getting’ stronger everyday.” Staring death in the face, Capaldi addressed the subject of mortality in “Bright Fighter,” “Into the Void,” and “I’ve Been Changing.”

When Jim Capaldi passed away in January 2005, no one was surprised that only a short time before, he and Steve Winwood had been talking about reforming Traffic.

Posted November 3, 2007 Permalink

Dear Mr. Fantasy

Dear Mr. Fantasy A Tribute To Jim Capaldi 3 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

Tribute albums are usually hit and miss, and this one’s no exception. “Dear Mr. Fantasy” was recorded on January 21, 2007 at the Roadhouse in London to celebrate the life and music of Traffic’s late drummer/singer, one of the most underrated songwriters in rock. Steve Winwood is a natural. He was Capaldi’s friend, bandmate and co-writer for 35 years and they made frequent guest appearances on each other’s solo albums. Paul Weller frequently cites Traffic as one his influences and sang on Capaldi’s “Anna Julia.” Weller even coaxed Winwood into playing keyboard on his best known album, “Stanley Road.” Peter Townsend, the wind milling guitar player for The Who, was a contemporary of Capaldi’s – they became close friends when most of Traffic (Winwood, Capaldi, bassist Rick Grech and percussionist Rebop Kwaku Baah) participated in Eric Clapton’s ballyhooed comeback at the Rainbow Theater in 1973. Simon Kirke, thunder-footed drummer for Free and Bad Company, manned the kit on several of Capaldi’s solo albums, including “Electric Nights,” “Let The Thunder Cry,” and “One Man Mission.” Eagle and James Gang axe man Joe Walsh was an admirer (and worked with Winwood on his “Back In The Highlife” album), as was Yusef Islam (the former Cat Stevens). Deep Purple’s former keyboard player Jon Lord and former Stones bassist Bill Wyman also recorded in the same era as Capaldi, although there’s nothing to indicate they were close mates. Phil Capaldi of course, is Jim’s brother. But what the heck are the Storys, former Dr. Hook vocalist Dennis Locorriere, Margo Buchanan, Mark Rivera and Stevie Lange doing here? And who the heck are Buchanan, Rivera and Lange?

There’s also a surprising dearth of former Traffickers. It’s no shock founding member Chris Wood, who played sax, flute and keyboards for Traffic couldn’t make it. He’s been dead since 1983 and it appears he’s going to stay that way. Ditto Rebop and Rick Grech, who also died in 1983 and 1990, respectively. Uberdrummer Jim Gordon is still institutionalized, but no Roscoe Gee? Maybe the bassist couldn’t get away from his day job as music director for a Swedish TV show. None of the semi-retired guys from Muscle Shoals band (bassist David Hood, keyboardist Barry Beckett, drummer Roger Hawkins, guitarist Jimmy Johnson) who ably backed Traffic and Capaldi in the 70s is here either. But the most glaring omissions are “The Contenders,” the guys who recorded with Capaldi in his band and were with him for as long has he was in Traffic. Guitarist Mick Dolan, bassist Pete Vale, and keyboard player Chris Parren not only played with Capaldi, they were co-writers on some of songs. Fortunately, guitarist Peter Bonas from the band is included. Fellow Trafficker Dave Mason’s absence is academic. As long as Winwood can draw a breath, he’ll never play in the same time zone with the bull-headed Mason again. Even the unflappable Capaldi wound up with a bad taste in his mouth after touring with Mason in the late 1990s. Although their tour was billed as “Mason-Capaldi – A celebration of the Music of Traffic”—Mason treated Capaldi like a sideman, nearly pushing him off stage. Are you happy playing those 200 seat venues by yourself now, Dave?

Traffic’s earliest hits in 1967 were Dave Mason’s sappy psychedelic fairy tale “Hole In My Shoe,” (which Winwood, Capaldi and Wood disliked so much they never performed it live), and the Winwood-Capaldi ode to the Summer of Love, “Paper Sun,” the lead off track on their debut album “Mr. Fantasy.” Paul Weller tries to revisit the song’s sunny optimism, but winds up eclipsing its beauty. Mark Rivera does an exacting imitation of Chris Wood’s wobbling sax, and drummer Simon Kirke adds plenty of step. Weller is a bit arcane, though. “Paper Sun” is an odd choice considering how hard it is to recreate period music for a record buying public that probably wasn’t born when the song was waxed. It’s also nowhere near being Traffic’s best song. And why not try “Dealer,” the song Capaldi actually sang on the album?

In answer to the question “Who’s Stevie Lang, and what’s she doing on this CD?” Lang was a back up vocalist on several Capaldi solo cuts, most notably “I’ll Always Be Your Fool,” from “Fierce Heart.” She also appeared – albeit briefly – on “Lost Inside Your Love” from “One Man Mission of Love,” which was penned by Capaldi and the members of the Santana Band (Carlos Santana, Greg Walker, Chester Thompson and Orestes Vilanto). It turns out that like Stevie Nicks, this Stevie is no dude. And like the other Stevie, she’s not much of a vocalist either. A capable but insignificant R & B singer in the tradition of Thelma Houston, Merry Clayton or Roberta Hightower, Lange has plenty of energy, but little skill, and she blows out her voice before she’s halfway through.

Sounding more and more like Bill Murray’s character in “Caddyshack,” Joe Walsh plucks one of Capaldi’s later day gems, “Living on the Outside.” Joe may garble his words like a 70s stoner, but he can still make a guitar sing. Jon Lord has plenty of vigor in his digits, laying down a thick solo on the Hammond organ. Bill Wyman, who’s never played a discernable note, is present on bass, but even with today’s technology, you still can’t hear him. Give Joe credit for picking one of Capaldi’s stronger songs.

“Elixir of Life” from “The Contender” (released on the “Daughter of the Night” album in the U.S.) is one of Capaldi’s weaker songs and is a waste of space. Dennis Locorriere tries to make it sound dramatic, barking out the lyrics Drama 101 style, but this is simply a bad choice, and at one point he even has problems actually saying “elixir.” Locorriere, who makes his living these days in England recreating Dr. Hook’s stage act, blows out a nice “Long Train Runnin’” harp solo, but needs to lay off trying to scream. It sounds like it hurts, and it certainly is distressful to listen to him try and do it. Former Elton John percussionist Ray Cooper is no Rebop on congas, but he’s steady and busy, coaxing along the beat, and Mark Rivera lays down more wood on sax than the self-taught Chris Wood ever could. “Elixir” is a musical fountain of youth, but vocal poison.

“Whale Meat Again” was one of Capaldi’s more vitriolic songs about the ecology: “Whale meat again, under the sun. Every twelve minutes another one gone. His meat’s in your make up, his flesh is on your lips, as a nuclear warhead explodes in his hips…” This is drummer Simon Kirke’s spotlight and surprise – he’s singing and playing the drums simultaneously. Simon never got to sing much because he was usually the drummer behind one of rock’s greatest vocalists, Paul Rodgers. His voice is fresh, not particularly powerful, but clean. Paul “Wix” Wickens organ is a virtual wind tunnel, a stunning, burning whirlpool of sound. Peter Bonas’ solo is as piercing as Pete Drake was on the original, and Rivera managed to make his sax sound like a trio of sinister assassins. Wait a minute…What the heck is a verse of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” doing here? Okay, “The Quiet Beatle” is gone too, but George already had his own tribute. A great rendition, except for the inclusion of “While my Guitar…”

The Storys perform “Love’s Got A Hold On Me” from “Living On The Outside.” The lead singer sounds a bit like Timothy Schmidt from the Eagles, wimpy in a romantic sort of way. I may not know who the Storys are, but I intend to find out. This is well done, in a west coast adult contemporary style with feng shui harmonies. Gentleman Jim would be proud, especially with some of the high notes the singer hits. Capaldi was a rocker, but made his money and notoriety writing love songs, including this one. This is music to cuddle by and it restores the integrity to Gentleman Jim’s music.

Joe Walsh returns for “40,000 Headmen,” one of Traffic’s early gems. Mark Rivera doesn’t put the same ghostly whisper into his flute playing that Chris Wood did, and Walsh’s wobbly old man Gabby Hates vocal lacks the proper menace. Winwood originally sang this one and it should have been assigned to him, but it’s such a good song the music holds it up, especially when Walsh turns on the echo and shreds up a nice ending.

“Man With No Country” is another odd choice for a selection, given it came off of one of Capaldi’s more obscure albums, “The Smell of Sweet Success,” (which saw precious little). Cat Stevens, sorry, Yusef Islam, may be making a statement here. (He’s basically a man with no country, get it?) There’s some attention-grabbing concert style piano by Paul “Wix” Wickens mixed in with the song’s Latin American influences. Like Kirke, Stevens takes a few liberties with the arrangement, singing one of the verses in Zulu (yes, Zulu) and sneaking in a verse of “Wild World,” which actually fits the pattern of the song and gets a nice round of applause. But again, this is supposed to be about Capaldi, so pulling this stunt after Kirke’s already done it is overkill. Self promotion aside, Stevens still has a great voice and his acoustic guitar playing is full, and Wickens really deserves to take a bow.

“Light Up Or Leave Me Alone” is one of Capaldi’s signature tunes from his days in Traffic. It’s a good choice, and it gets a funkier than usual treatment from Steve Winwood and his band. Winwood plays organ on this version rather than guitar, which is odd given the original was 90% guitar. Winwood does do a yeoman’s job on Hammond organ and Paul Booth’s jazzy sax is creative and jumpy, which is a nice touch given that Traffic’s sax player, Chris Wood, usually sat this song out.

Winwood wisely picks up the guitar for “Dear Mr. Fantasy,” one of Traffic’s stone classics and a song closely associated with Capaldi. Capaldi woke up one night to hear Wood and Winwood jamming to what became the bedrock for the song. Basing the tune on the antics of a lysergically altered friend, Capaldi penned the lyrics in a fit of inspiration in a matter of minutes. Winwood is transcendental against Wickens throaty keyboards and Kirke/Newmark’s punchy beat. The best version of this tune is on Traffic’s 1971 live album “Welcome To The Canteen,” in which Winwood and Dave Mason take out their mutual dislike for one another on their guitars, creating one of the best gunslinging duels since the Earps fought the Clantons. Hard to beat the muscular drumming of Jim Gordon on that one as well, but Winwood’s drummer, Richard Bailey, hits the right cues. The live version on “Canteen’ also has Rick Grech’s in your face bass and irreproachable percussion from Rebop, but this version is worthy of Capaldi’s legacy, thanks to an inspired performance by Winwood, who truly is an underrated guitarist.

“Evil Love,” performed by Gary Moore, is an obscure piece even to this Capaldifile that runs a daunting 8:24. Moore is a completely over the top turn-it-up-to-ten old school guitarist, whose best performance “Still Got The Blues” was a ballad, (and that even featured some only-dogs-can-hear-it guitar). Give Moore a platform and he’ll turn everything into a guitar spectacle. Moore wails, growls, and snarls, and so does his guitar. At one point he launches into a mind boggling solo that rivals the supersonic digits of Alvin Lee or Eric Clapton. This guy’s showy, but he’s also good, although you can’t listen to more than one or two of his Panzer assaults without losing a portion of your hearing or your mind. To his credit, Moore has a bluesy set of pipes.

“Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush” is another bizarre choice for a pick, credited to all four founding Traffic members. It stunk in 1967 and it stinks now, despite Paul Weller’s enthusiastic interpretation. C’mon Paul, on an album that includes “Heaven Is In Your Mind,” “Smiling Phases,” “Coloured Rain,” and “Dealer,” you chose this out of date circus clunker?

“Let Me Make Something Into Your Life” is actually more closely associated with Steve Winwood, having appeared on his first self-titled solo album. Capaldi’s influence loomed large on that album – he wrote the lyrics for most of the songs, with Winwood writing the music, just like they did in Traffic – only Winwood was now calling all the shots. A dead giveaway that the songs on Winwood’s first album weren’t Capaldi’s best efforts is that none of them ever appeared on any of his own albums. Ironically, Winwood doesn’t handle the vocals here either. Stevie Lange, faceless as ever, blands it up, but at least she’s cleared her throat. Her performance here is a huge improvement over her first imperious vocal. She sounds a bit like Yvonne Elliman, but could really use some sort of jolt to establish her own persona (whatever that may be). “Let Me Make Something Into Your Life” is a passable song done impossibly wrong.

Capaldi’s brother, Phil, sings “Gifts of Unknown Things,” the mystical track that ended Capaldi’s superb 1983 album “Fierce Heart.” Phil is a dead sound-alike to Paul Weller. Somebody should get this guy his own solo contract. Jon Lord gives another tasteful cutaway on organ and Wyman is supposedly back. I’ve been listening to Lord since I heard Deep Purple’s “Hush” in 1967 and he’s never disappointed me. I’ve also been listening to Bill Wyman for about as long and I’ve yet to understand what purpose he serves, other than as a reminder he quit the easiest gig in the world (The Stones).

Add Margo Buchanan to the list of today’s soulless female singers. Put her beside Stevie Lange and you’d have a hard time telling them apart. Their slightly hoarse phrasing is the same, and they both come perilously close to losing it when they reach for the high notes. “Love You ‘Til The Day I Die” is another good song that dies a slow death -- and it isn’t helped by the normally reliable Mark Rivera adding to much Las Vegas pizzazz to his solos.

One of Traffic’s most thoughtful tunes, “No Name No Face No Number,” gets the “Tommy can you hear me” treatment from Pete Townsend, who plays his acoustic as if he’s about to swing it over his head and bash it against an amp. Doesn’t this guy know this is a ballad? He messes with the song’s meter, turning what was once a romantic song into a track meet. If you needed any further proof that Pete Townsend has lost his hearing, this is it. Townsend simply takes a great song and murders it.

One of the last artists you would think would attempt “John Barleycorn Must Die” would be Joe Walsh. The thought of mumbling Joe performing English folk is scary. But his wobbly old man voice serves him well, as does Mark Rivera filling in for Chris Wood. Still, this is a tune more associated with Wood, who discovered the song and brought it to Winwood and Capaldi. True, Capaldi shared part of the vocal with Winwood, but this really was Winwood and Wood’s territory; Capaldi didn’t write it. And one has to once again ask the nagging question…With Steve Winwood in the waiting room, why didn’t he perform this one? Guess he can’t sing ‘em all.

“Pearly Queen” from Traffic’s second album was one the group’s out right rockers. Weller misses his cues on both the first and second verses, but plays his way out of trouble with some blistering guitar solos.

Having “Rock and Roll Stew” on the bill makes sense even though it didn’t spring from Capaldi’s pen. For many people, “Rock and Roll Strew” was the first time they heard Capaldi’s voice. By the time “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys” was released, Capaldi had lost confidence in his drumming and had turned to singing, giving Traffic two lead vocalists, himself and Winwood. Drummer Jim Gordon and bassist Rick Grech collaborated on “Rock and Roll Stew,” and since neither was a particularly gifted singer, Capaldi stepped in. The original was a mix of rock and reggae that featured Grech’s thumping bass, Gordon’s he-man drumming, Winwood’s dead on guitar and Rebop’s speaker-filling percussion. On this version, the music is nearly as superb. Peter Bonas handles Winwood’s role with aplomb, Wix Wickens provides the funk on electric piano while Jon Lord wails on organ, and Simon Kirke has the stamina to fill Gordon’s sizable role. The vocals, however, are a travesty. Dennis Locorriere’s shaky voice sounds as if he’s just seen Capaldi’s spirit telling him to shut up; Buchanan starts out well, but quickly runs out of breath and gasps out half her lines, and Stevie Lange can’t find a key tossing in, so she tries them all. She couldn’t have failed more if she was actually trying to sing badly. Just listen to the music on this one kids, then go listen to Capaldi belt it out on “Low Spark.”

On the other hand, it’s virtually impossible for Steve Winwood to sing a bad note. Pay close attention to him singing the first verse of “Love Will Keep Us Alive” and compare it to Joe Walsh’s momentum wrecking nasal attempt on the second verse. Winwood thankfully returns for the third verse. Given this was one of Capaldi’s biggest hits (for the Eagles) it’s a credible way to end the show.

If I haven’t been complaining enough already, something needs to be said about the song selection. Virtually all of the Capaldi solo material that was chosen is obscure stuff, some of which, “Evil Love,” “Let Me Make Something In Your Life,” and “Love Will Keep Us Alive,” never even made it onto any of his studio albums. Capaldi’s best known material was on his first three albums, “Oh How We Danced,” “Whale Meat Again,” “Short Cut, Draw Blood,’ as well as two of his 80s efforts, “Fierce Heart” and “One Man Mission.” Only three songs from any of those albums, “Whale Meat Again,” “Gifts Of Unknown Things” and “Lost Inside Your Love” are performed. None from Capaldi’s best known songs on “Oh How We Danced” get the nod, not “Eve,” which launched him as a solo artist, or “Open Your Heart,” the infectious pop/gospel tune that certainly would have been a crowd pleaser. Also missing are Capaldi’s biggest hits, “That’s Love,” and “Living On the Edge” from “Fierce Heart,” and “Love Hurts” (okay there have been so many versions of that hit you can skip it). “Something So Strong,” “Eve,” “It’s All Up To You,” “I’ve Been Changing,” are all songs you hear when you access Jim Capaldi’s website, among others. Somebody should have picked up on that, especially his wife, Aninha, who helped organize the concert and runs the site. Marketing, people, marketing. You want teary ballads, how about “Yellow Sun” from “Whale Meat Again,” “The Game of Love,” “Wild Geese,” or “Some Come Running,” the title track sung by Capaldi with Winwood that sums up their lifelong friendship? “Summer’s Fading,” the percussion happy coda to “Whale Meat Again,” would have been a crowd pleaser, although not having a percussionist equal to Rebop’s talents would have made it a challenge. Talk about selections not making sense… Simon Kirke performed on “Tonight,” and “Hotel Blues” and chose “Whale Meat Again,” the title track from an album he isn’t even on. Although Joe Walsh does a surprisingly nice job, what the heck is he doing singing? Let the man do what he does best – play the guitar, and leave the singing to Steve Winwood. Dennis Locorriere, Stevie Lange and Margo Buchannan should have been turned away at the door. Pete Townsend would have been better off reciting the lyrics to “No Name, No Face, No Number,” then it might have been recognizable, and Paul Weller needed to attend a few more rehearsals. Phil Capaldi, Cat Stevens and Steve Winwood, who actually seemed to know and understand Capaldi’s music, should have been featured more prominently.

The CD comes with a full color booklet with a written introduction to the concert by Aninha Capaldi, a history of Traffic by Pierre Parrone, and memories by Steve Winwood (who lovingly refers to Capaldi as part-gypsy, part-pirate). The booklet includes amusing anecdotes from the performers along with judicious photos of the Mephistophelian Capaldi.

“A Tribute To Jim Capaldi” is a loving gesture by a group of musicians who admired his music. Too bad the vast majority had precious little to do with it. As a HUGE Jim Capaldi fan, (can you tell?) I expected the artists to give better performances, although Gentleman Jim would have undoubtedly appreciated the fly-by the-seat-of-your-pants-feel. It’s listenable, but not vital, and a man with as much talent as Jim Capaldi deserved better, much better.

The DVD

“Dear Mr. Fantasy: A Tribute To Jim Capaldi” is also available as a DVD (3 out of 5 stars). It’s a little shocking to see how many of these rock icons have aged. Shaggy Dennis Locorriere looks like he ought to be making Geico caveman commercials, disheveled Stevie Lange resembles the crazy neighborhood alky who keep 1,000 cats in her one bedroom apartment, Ray Cooper looks like Paul Shaffer’s corpse on Slim Fast, Bill Wyman has been visiting Phil Spector’s hairdresser, Gary Moore’s shag hairdo has turned him into Randy “Tex” Cobb’s doppelganger and seems to be acting like a cork in keeping the expanding guitarist from exploding like Mount St. Helen; and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen cue ball Pete Townsend hanging outside of Grand Central with a tin cup pretending to be blind. On the visual plus side, Steve Winwood looks fantastic – he probably has Dorian Grey’s picture in his closet doing his aging for him. The Story’s front man resembles an adolescent Jackson Browne, and knows all the G.Q. rock star moves (head back, eyes closed, look sincere), and Simon Kirke’s buff physique is proof that clean livin’ has its benefits. The DVD reveals one more disturbing attribute the CD doesn’t – most of the performers are reading the lyrics off of a monitor. Joe Walsh tries hard not to make it obvious, but spends most of “Living On the Outside” and “John Barleycorn” staring at the floor – no wonder he could remember all the words! Phil Capaldi is riveted to the monitor, which doesn’t stop him from giving a bravura performance, but staring too long at the tiny screen is in part responsible for Stevie Lange’s bumbling through her material.

The DVD provides a few extras the CD doesn’t, including a behind the scenes rehearsal, which shows the hard work band leader Mark Rivera put into organizing the show. There’s a touching introduction by Capaldi’s wife Aninha, who sadly, also reads part of her speech from the teleprompter – she lived with the man for nearly thirty years and needs cue cards? But it’s the comments the performers make before their performances that enlighten and hit home. A chocked up Steve Winwood remembers the man he called “Seamus” with brotherly love and respect; Yusef Islam harkens back to their mutual love for Brazilian music, and Pete Townsend verifies that Capaldi’s energy helped him get through the Rainbow Concert when they were “Bringing Eric Clapton back from the dead,” but then he gets the year of the concert wrong.

Although there’s a lot of geriatric meat flying around the stage (particularly Locorriere, who appears to be having some sort of a fit), the DVD allows you to see subtleties you won’t be able to discern from the CD. You’ll get close ups of John Lord’s technique on the Hammond that verify that next to Steve Winwood, Lord has the most talented right hands in the biz; watching Gary Moore grimace and grind his way through “Evil Love” is as much fun as listening to it, and Steve Winwood’s spindly legged soloing is a delight. The night was a labor of love, a loose one, but one worth watching. Just don’t gaze at Ray Cooper’s camera hogging antics for too long; they have the same vision impairing effect of staring at the sun for too long.

Posted November 3, 2007 Permalink

The War

The War 4 CD soundtrack to the Ken Burns Television Series Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

In times of war, men and women sucked into a death dealing conflict often rely on the sights, smells and sounds of home to carry them to victory. During the Second World War, the aggressive pounding of Gene Krupa’s drums, the fiery passion of Harry James’ trumpet, and the warm crooning of Frank Sinatra soothed soldiers sitting in muddy foxholes or sailors freezing in gales on patrol. Ken Burns’ 4 CD set for his television series “The War” features some of the W.W.2’s familiar tunes, but for the bulk of the soundtrack Burns dug deep into the trenches for unknown or forgotten performances. There are a number of duds and outright bombs that miss the mark altogether. The material on the 4 CDs won’t make any new allies for the swing/jazz axis, but devoted fans of 40s music will want to sit back and surrender to the lush, spotless sound.

As in real life, there are four phases to “The War”: the attack (the original soundtrack), the counterattack (“I’m Beginning To See The Light”), the calm (“Sentimental Journey) and the storm – the storming of the beach that is (“Songs Without Words”).

“The War”
Soundtrack
(3 out of 5 stars)

“The War” is a mixture of modern compositions written by Field Marshall Wynton Marsalis, who lays out a cool strategy, but lacks the assault weapons to establish a lasting musical beachhead, and classic musical maneuvers by veterans Benny Goodman, Count Basie, Nat “King” Cole and Duke Ellington.

The CD begins with “American Dream” by Nora Jones. Jones obviously knows how to sing, the question is whether you like her half-soused diction and gurgle-filled whispering. Guess that answers the question whether I do or don’t. Solemn, respectful but as drab as Army fatigues, “American Dream” is a case of an artist winding up on soundtrack because she’s a big name, not a big talent.

Leonard Saltkin’s “Walton: The Death of Falstaff” features full staff orchestration. I never knew a song about beer could be so moving. The London Philharmonic, who has backed everybody from the Moody Blues to Chris Squire, and yes, even some classical music highbrows, creates saturated string music to bring out your dead.

The great Benny Goodman is represented throughout the series, but he initially gets out of the blocks with “The Wang Wang Blues” (bet he’d like to reconsider the title). It’s a stroll down to New Orleans Goodman recorded with his sextet, one of his lesser stellar aggregations. Sid Weiss bends the acoustic bass strings and Ralph Collier gives the beat a gentle push on the drums, a far cry from Gene Krupa’s howitzer blast percussion. Goodman’s playing isn’t as strained as it sometimes was in the big band setting (likely because he doesn’t have to compete with supersticks Krupa, trumpeter Harry James or pianist Jess Stacey, flashy showman who frequently swiped the spotlight from their boss).

Every once in a while Goodman liked to show people a jazzbo could play classical music, so he’d team up with long hairs like Aaron Copeland. Problem was he played the clarinet, one of the most squint-inducing, drill-a-hole-through-your-forehead implements of mass musical destruction. Occasional passages in his performance of Copland’s “Concerto For Clarinet, Strings, Harp and Piano,” (recorded post-war in 1950) are strikingly moving. You’ll tear up -- then ol’ four eyes’ll hit one of those squeaky seal high notes and you’ll really cry because your fillings will be vibrating. Maybe I never forgave Benny for telling Gene Krupa and Harry James to start their own bands or for sacking Jess Stacey, but this toots like the yard whistle at Alcatraz for far too long. (And yes, I do know what that sounds like.)

The soundtrack shifts to a modern sound with “Movin’ Back” written by Marsalis, who thankfully doesn’t participate. “Movin’ Back” is a sonic exercise by guitarist Doug Wamble, who can make his six string guitar keen eerily like a wailing woman, conjuring up visions of bombed out, war ravaged back roads. “Movin’ Back” is unlike anything else you’ll hear on the soundtrack, and it’ll set you back on your heels.

You get more moody Marsalis music in “American My Home.” Its brother can you spare a dime backdrop material with cellist Amanda Forsyth bowing sadly and Bill Charlap filling in the gaps on piano. You can see the wash hanging from the lines of the dirty Brooklyn tenements as Dad struggles home from the factory. It’s hard for a piece of music to be depressingly beautiful, but “America My Home” will hit you in your emotional core.

Count Basie has a light, lazy touch on piano, wiggling the keys effectively on “How Long Blues.” Despite the slumbering pace, the Count plays like a member of the royal house, with respectful ease, style and class.

“In The Nick of Time” features Edgar Meyer (bass), Joshua Bell (violin), Sam Bush (mandolin) and Mike Marshall (guitar). No, this isn’t a reinterpretation of Bonnie Raitt’s career-making tune with the Dodger pitcher who invented kinesiology (Mike Marshall) and President Bush’s illegitimate brother. Its baby-faced violinist Joshua Bell playing a cross between a spirited Irish jig and frontier music and creating a close cousin to the theme song for “Deadwood.” One more reason to love this out of time tune – “In The Nick Of Time” was recorded at nearby Purchase College. (Well it’s close to me anyway).

Der Bingle (Bing Crosby) was one of the most popular singers in the 40s (30s and 50s too for that matter). He’s ba-ba-beautiful in “It’s Been A Long, Long Time,” his voice sincere and resonant. Throw in a youthful Les Paul on electric guitar making love strings and you’ve got what amounts to a supersession.

Pianist Kalle Randalu serves up “Part: Variations For The Healing of Arinuska.” I believe I once had Kalle Randalu in a restaurant – As a meal! As a meal! This Adam and Eve on a raft wreck ‘em arrangement makes Kalle sound like a tone deaf piano tuner. He/she knows the scales, but I need more than a plink here and a plonk there to stay alert. Randalu’s playing is too halting to have an effect, displaying the skill of a fifth grader’s first recital. Something tells me Arinuska slowly bled out.

The closer is the same cut as the starter -- “American Anthem”-- this time as interpreted by cellist Amanda Forsythe and Bill Charlap. I think I recognize Forsythe’s style now. Burns probably used her to flesh out scenes in his unforgettable series about the Civil War. Her cello expresses in grief-stricken tones what Nora Jones can’t properly convey with her voice.

“I’m Beginning To See The Light”
Dance Hits From the Second World War
(3 out of 5 stars)

“I’m Beginning To See The Light” features many of the big guns who recorded during the war years, including Glenn Miller, Charlie Barnet, Artie Shaw and the aforementioned durable grunts -- Goodman, Basie and Ellington..

Glenn Miller’s “In The Mood” is one of those instantly recognizable classics from the late swing era, with happy high hat work and the horn section playing counterpoint off of one another. Tex Beneke and Al Klink share the tenor sax solo and Clyde Hurley plays with the same fiery attack dog style as Harry James. The slow fade, fake ending will put you in the mood for more. Surprisingly, you can hear the snap crackle pop of the record on this. C’mon Ken, you couldn’t get a clean version from the Library of Congress or Napster?

Miller and his orchestra take a bumpy road trip with “(I’ve Got a Gal In) Kalamazoo.” Billy May puts some Jamesesque snap into his trumpet -- this is one hep cat, and the horns section radiates with enough force to blow you all the way to Kalamazoo. The trip takes a wrong turn when singer Tex Beneke and the Modernaires join in. Tex is monotone, as flat as a stretch of U.S. Route 1. Who let this guy in the studio? No wonder vocalists had a hard time breaking into swing music.

Al Dexter and His Troopers shoot blanks with their version of “Pistol Packin’ Mama.” This is packed to the barrel bland country western, rendered as if Roy Rodgers or Mr. Rodgers were conducting the proceedings. If this pistol packin’ mama came in to a neighborhood bar, she’d be waving a cap gun. Given the song’s subject matter (a guy duckin’ bullets from his girlfriend in a bar) you need something stronger than this Frankie Yankovic and the Yanks arrangement. Louis Jordan fired up a much better version (not available here) with a more animated (re: lively) vocal and a series of goofy cartoon sax solos.

The Benny Goodman Sextet has a little too much musical space to operate in “Rose Room.” Following Gene Krupa into the band, Nick Fatool had tough sticks to fill. Fatool makes love to his high hat and stays out of the way of Goodman’s clarinet. The legendary Charlie Christian plays a solo that certainly must have inspired Les Ford; Lionel Hampton is forever happy on the vibes and Fletcher Henderson plays with a style that combines Jess Stacey’s swing with Count Basie’s more staid style. These guys are stylin’ pros, but Christian’s more jazzy sorties clash with Henderson’s cool cat style, leaving “Rose Room” a bit thorny.

The new Gene Krupa, Buddy Rich, is on drums for Tommy Dorsey’s “Opus #1” and when given the chance, cracks with alacrity. “Opus” features lots of vo-de-oh-do horns that’ll warp your speaker’s cabinets. Dorsey’s cohorts aren’t shy, and Bruce Golden hits the piano keys with rhythmic authority.

The Count of Basie puts his rep on the ledge with his version of “One O’clock Jump,” a song he wrote that was given a classic performance by the Benny Goodman Orchestra at their historic 1938 Carnegie Hall Jazz concert. I said it before and I’ll say it again -- You can’t beat a line up that includes Harry James, Goodman, and Gene Krupa. But Goodman’s secret weapon was pianist Jess Stacey, who mixed New Orleans jazz with swing. Basie’s version bounces more than jumps; Basie’s great at caressing, rather than playing the ivories, and his soloing won’t set your leg to tapping the way Stacey’s did. Goodman also gave his version more space to breathe and got a lot more drive from his horn section. Make no mistake, it picks up some hop at the end, but Benny’s version really jumps, thanks to his sidemen.

Trummy Young doesn’t distinguish himself as a vocalist on Jimmy Lunceford’s “Taint What You Do (It’s How You Do It).” His half sung, half rapped performance is a hep time capsule, but it ‘taint very smooth and cries out for a diction coach. Gotta expect that from somebody who was probably supposed to be named Tummy, not Trummy. Congratulations to Jimmy Crawford though for discovering that drums have tom-toms and cymbals.

There are plenty of questionable choices to eclipse your enjoyment of “I’m Beginning to See the Light,” including foot draggers from Barnett, Basie, Dorsey and Shaw. But the final selection makes up for Burns mislabeling the collection as “dance hits.” “Sing, Sing, Sing” is the grand daddy of all swing tunes. Already a work out at over eight minutes, it was extended to over twelve minutes in concert. Gene Krupa plays the drums like he’s firing a Gatling Gun. “Sing, Sing, Sing” has the nasty jungle rhythm with threatening horns blowing counter riffs off of each other. The whole band sounds hopped up and wired into the same frenzy. Krupa is unbelievable, a dynamo who belts his drums harder and faster than Joe Louis taking out an opponent. He makes his kit a lead instrument, a rarity in the 30s and 40s. This studio take nearly matches the energy of the live version, so much so you can feel the sweat flying from Krupa’s brow. When Harry James and Krupa play together, it’s an overdose of crazed yet rhythmic energy. This is war and the enemy is Krupa’s drums. I had the pleasure of taking drum lessons from Krupa, just before he died from Leukemia. (Trying to imbue me with a sense of rhythm probably hastened his demise.) He was obviously a very sick man, but when he propped himself up to play “Sing, Sing, Sing” he turned into a sinewy knot of power. The only solo missing is Jess Stacey’s, improvised honky tonk/classical music combo, one the many crowning moments in the 1938 concert. When Stacey let loose on piano, the hall grew silent, he thought because the crowd hated it. The reason everyone was silent was because they were in awe of his speed, dexterity and creativity. It doesn’t get any better than this.

“Sentimental Journey”
Hits From the Second World War
Various Artists
(2 out of 5 stars)

Burns should have called this CD “Frank Sinatra’s Sentimental Journey,” as he takes the most trips to the mike. Very little of this swings, so if you’re old enough to remember any of these songs, your musical journey will be memorable indeed. If not, you won’t get to complete the journey because you’ll be in the land of nod, nodding off.

With a very young Sinatra still searching for his persona, the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra goes for the heart strings in “I’ll Be Seeing You.” Frankie rushes a few of his lines and generally displays a smooth, but standard crooner’s voice – he’s Bing without the zing. “Saturday Night Is The Loneliest Night Of The Week” is more like the gaudy productions Sinatra would do with Nelson Riddle. Recorded in 1942, the Chairman of the Board’s voice doesn’t have the rich bottom it would develop as he got older, but he’s much more at ease. Frankie gets it now; he knows how to shape a lyric to the sound of his voice. Recorded two years after he waxed “Saturday Night,” 1944s “Long Ago and Far Away” is closest to the Sinatra we love or loathe. There’s more emotion, more maturity in his voice. Do I like it? No. But there’s no denying that while Sinatra was filling out physically, so was his sound.

“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.” And Benny Goodman’s “We’ll Meet Again” is as optimistically bright as a summer day in August. Plus you get Peggy Lee, one of the most instantly recognizable names in jazz. Not being up on Peggy (except that she has a lot of bad relationships and equally bad health), this piece doesn’t sound like the same beaten-down woman who dragged her way through “Is That All There Is” in 1969. This Peggy Lee has energy, and a smooth, rich delivery.

Artie Shaw always laid it on thick, with rows of strings and smaltzy sophisticated themes. “Dancing In the Dark” trips over its own heavy handedness and comes across as the most darted music Burns picked to fill out the sound track. Shaw’s music was the stuff of cotillions, long hoped skirts, and guys mooning over their purebred Dubarry coiffed girls. Shaw also takes a crack at “Moonglow,” a song Benny Goodman, Gene Krupa, Lionel Hampton and Teddy Wilson turned into a moody piece when they did it live in 1938. Shaw hits the listener with warm, sedate horns while Johnny Guarieri taps at the keys. Shaw still has plenty of class in his full-bodied arrangements, but the lack of a discernable beat or even a pulse makes this a snoozer.

Lionel Hampton plays a very watery vibraphone in Louie Armstrong’s take of “Memories of You.” Louie rasp makes him sound like a convict singing a love song -- In other words it ain’t very romantic and it’s even less memorable. Satch was a crowd pleaser, not Rudolph Valentino. Nice work on the horn though, Satchmo.

Benny Goodman’s “On the Alamo” is notable only because it unites Goodman, Charlie Christian and Count Basie (somewhere). It has the pacing of the relief army that came to the Alamo -- too slow, too little and too late.

The other Goodman piano player, Teddy Wilson, had a much more predictable and subdued style than the flamboyant Jess Stacey. “Pennies From Heaven” is a unique curio because Benny Goodman acts as his employee’s sideman. Cozy Cole shushes quietly on the drums and Billie Holiday completes the supersession on vocals. Too bad Holiday’s vocal isn’t worth a red cent. She sounds like she had a snootful before she entered the recording booth, but the team’s vamping saves “Pennies From Heaven” from going completely to hell.

Cab Calloway dials back the jump but he’s still got the jive in “Blues In the Night”: “My momma done told me when I was in knee pants. My mama done told me, son. A woman’ll sweet talk, and give you the glad eye, but when that sweet talk is done. A woman is two-faced, A worrisome thing who’ll leave you to sing the blues in the night.” Disparaging lyrics to be sure, but you know Cab’ll eventually shrug the hurt off and climb back on the bucking bronco that we call love. There’s a great call and response section between Cab and the band, especially when he says: “Here that train a callin’ and they answer “Whoooo-eee” like passing bar cars. Cab was more of a novelty singer, an entertainer than a straight up singer, but unlike the more successful crooners he was always had something interesting to say. An excellent performance, that doesn’t belong with the CDs more morose selections, “The Blues In The Night” will make your day.

The Duke of Ellington goes soft with “There Shall Be No Night.” Herb Jefferies, who doubled as an actor, sounds like a cross between Bing Crosby and Zeppo Marx, (and I mean that as a compliment, the forgotten Marx Brother could sing). Jefferies vocal lifts the drab arrangement from the doldrums.

Cootie Williams and His Rug Cutters lay out “Echoes of Harlem.” I’m not sure if these guys are rug cutters or carpet layers. The beat provided by Sonny Greer on drums is meant to be “different,” but comes off sounding as if a group of workers from Acme are pounding down a shag carpet with a toy hammer. It’s very distracting, as is the one-note-at-a-time style of pianist Duke Ellington. Here it comes – You may need a Cootie shot to navigate through “Harlem.”

Billy Eckstine was one of my father’s favorite vocalists; I can see why. My father (a non-professional who entertained at parties) sang just like him. Eckstine had a rich vibrato that locked in sexiness the same way a Zip seals in flavor. Eckstine’s mellow love in “Skylark” proves that Dads are wise and right 99.9% of the time.

The Mills Brothers were as old as dirt when I saw them on Ed Sullivan; they had to be in their late 60s. I felt sorry for them, a quartet of ripe balding men trying to make it in the era of The Beatles and The Dave Clark Five. Then they opened their mouths to sing “Paper Doll” – and I turned up the volume. It was as crisp live as it had been in this recording made in 1942. These guys have the type of succinct harmonies that only family members do; they’ve been simpatico since birth. I saw them again on a TV special fifteen years later and was shocked to see how frail they were (in addition to the fact that three of them were still alive).One brother was blind and had to be lead on to the stage. Another looked ready to turn to dust in a strong wind. You could hear the crowd gasp at their appearance -- Then they opened their mouths to sing – and I turned the volume up. The 80 year-old old bone yard escapees sang a song entitled “You’ll Never Grow Old.” By the middle of the song, the audience was clapping out the beat. At the end, they got a standing ovation. They made me believe that music can indeed keep you young. Thank you, Mills Brothers (and Cab) for being the inspiration for my sentimental journey.

“Songs Without Words”
Classical Music From “The War”
(1 out of 5 stars)

Having worked for an orchestra, I tried to keep an open mind about music for the opera glasses crowd. But being a recreational vocalist, reviewing a CD of instrumentals can be about as exciting as watching a conductor glue down his hairpiece. (And believe me, I’ve seen it done.)

Two compositions, “Walton: The Death of Falstaff” and “Copland: Concerto for Clarinet, Strings, Harp and Piano” are refugees from “The War” CD. What, there was a shortage of classical music in W.W.2? Well plastic was being used for the war effort, so maybe some of these compositions should have been fashioned into shells and fired at the Reichstag. Judging from Burns’ choices, good classical during the war years was as rare as a pair of nylons.

Yo Yo Ma plays with the passion of a barefoot gypsy with a hotfoot dancing around a campfire as he channels Mendelssohn’s “Song Without Words.” Yo Mama plays with a high degree of passion absent from most of the other selections. I can’t dance to it Dick, but I might listen to it again.

Beware of men with two first names (I can say that I’ve got one). Pierre-Laurent Aimard’s “Ligeti: Lamento From Hommage A Brahms” is music from the milieu of Charles Ives, which means nightmarish, nonsensical chording on the piano, French horns that sound as if they’re recalling the hounds, and psyche ward violins. Your biggest lamento will be the time you spento peeling your braino from out of this draino.

Cellist Steven Isserlis and pianist Pascal Devoyon tap into the mournful sadness of war with “Faure Elegie Op.24.” It takes a few measures before Isserlis and pianist Pascal Devoyon work as a team, but when they do, Devoyon’s waterfall of keys pushes Issrelis to harness the sorrows of war in his performance.

It takes a brave man to record solo, now all pianist Barry Douglas needs is talent. Interpreting Liszt’s “Nuages Gris,” Douglas sounds as if he’s dusting, rather than playing the keys. I know classical music calls for subtlety, but don’t make me turn the stereo up to 11 just to figure out if you’re there. Leave the Gris Gris in New Orleans, Barry.

“Messiaen: Quartet For The End OF Time” by Ensemble Tashi is case of the title serving as a critique of the performance. The end of the world may very well sound like Richard Stoltzman’s Indian Point siren clarinet – I hope not. I don’t want to die with my head between my knees with a splitting headache. Personal note: I met violinist Ida Kavafian (along with her sister Ari) when they were guest soloists with the orchestra I worked for. She was charming, down to earth, quick witted and beautiful, the exact opposite of this piece.

Leonard Slatkin and The London Symphony Orchestra throw their collective weight around with “Elgar: Nimrod From Enigma Variations.” If memory serves me right the last person I referred to as “nimrod” threatened to turn me into an enigma – or worse. This is classical music in all its pompous glory; majestic flourishes of horns, hushed strings, and rumbling tympani.

I’m no expert on the music of the Second World War, but the omission of the Andrews Sisters leaves a gaping hole in the soundtrack’s credibility. (After all, Burns has 4 CDs to play with. He could have put them in somewhere.) It’s commendable to scholarly, but leaving out a group’s that sold 75 million records and were the most popular female artists of the 40s is akin to doing a documentary on American presidents and leaving out Lincoln. Burns should have gone for a wider variety of artists as well instead of doubling or triple up on songs by the same group. Burns wins the battle for integrity; but ultimately loses “The War” because too many of the performances are duds.

Posted November 3, 2007 Permalink