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Salient. Victoria University Student Newspaper. Vol. 37, No. 10. May 22, 1974

Record

Record

Tubular Bells: Mike Oldfield.

First, a bit of background info. Mike Old-field is to us out here in Enzed a relatively unknown personage, seems to have done a fair bit of studio work, and playing on other people's albums, (Kevin Ayres — Whatevershebringswe-sing), but apart from that and associations with some of the earlier English bands like Soft Machine and others of similar ilk, that seems to be all that is known of him.

From what I have heard Tubular Bells was something he did off his own bat, without getting a record company to back him and set the recording up and all the rest, and when he had finished recording it. (almost every instrument played by Mike Oldfield himself), he took the tapes around a large number of record companies who it seems had never heard of him and didn't want to know about it.

Finally the guy who owns the chain of discount record shops in England by the name of Virgin Records must have either heard about it or been approached, and hey presto — Tubular Bells on the Virgin Records label (the label's first release I believe).

If you've been reading your Melody Maker you'll know the rest. The album rocketed up the charts scattering the most incredible reviews of it as it went — this was it, this was the big one, that was THE album everybody had been waiting for, the album of the decade, a true work of art, pure classicism in rock, and all the rest of the fervour that went with it. On its being released in the States, more or less the same thing happened, even now it is still No 1 in the American album charts.

Anyway, the album.

Well, it's certainly different. One of those "spacey" ones that will sound bloody incredible if you are in that "certain state".

It's one long piece, just Tubular Bells side one and two, and almost entirely instrumental, the only vocal being Viv (Bunzo Dog) Stanshall introducing a scries of instruments on side one, and Mike Oldfield making quote "Piltdown Man" noises on the second side, plus the odd choral bits here and there.

On the first listening it sounds familiar, the reason being that it sounds as if he has taken really gopd sections of melody from hundreds of old singles, albums, and classical pieces, and put them all together. There is a large number of faintly recognisable pieces in it, I'd even swear there is a bit of that hymn "Glorious Things Of Thee Are Spoken" m there. Maybe it's just my imagination.

Incidentally, I have an ugly black sticker on the front of my American copy which says "Now the Original Theme from the Warner Bros Movie 'The Exorcist' ". Thought you might like to know.

It's a hell of a nice LP, but I certainly wouldn't describe it as the "album of the decade" etc. It takes quite a few listens to get used to, and even more to get to like it, there is in many ways no real melody in it, just a series of instruments continually faded in and out, each playing a very simple piece, but in combination and interrelation with others giving overall a very complex sound-picture. Interesting stuff, and if you dug "Lord of the Rings" (the album), you'll get into this in a very big way. It's not exactly free-form, because it's obviously planned; flowing is about the best way to describe it.

In fact the album is really too elusive to write a review of, because it's going to be so much a matter of personal taste; I think most people will like it, because it's nice and pleasant and "airy" not nearly as heavy as Bo Hansson's "Lord of the Rings", which is about the closest thing that I've heard to it, and even then they're quite different.

A sad note to end on — the album was released nearly a year ago in England, but because Virgin Records is such a new label, none of the local companies here obtained the contract to release the record in this country. And since production time for a new LP is about three months, you won't be seeing "Tubular Bells" in your local record shop before August at the earliest.

Selling England by the Pound: Genesis (Charisma)

In a musical world where direction and creativity seem to be lacking for the moment, one group which emerges from the langour is Genesis, containing five very experienced musicians whose equipment ranges from electric sitars to VCS 3 synthesizers. Another English group which has a great deal in common with Genesis is Steawbs. Both sets of musicians play similar instruments, their vocalists Peter Gabriel and David Cousins have identical styles, and their music is a tight, well balanced portrayal of expertise. "Selling England by the Pound" completes a collection of three previous albums,

some of which were recorded and produced as early as 1968, but held back by the over-zealous, money-grabbing producers until a time when the music would be appreciated and bought. Had the music been released early, the effects on contemporary style might have been devastating as to put parasitic virtuosos as Keith Emmerson and psuedo-avant-gardes as Hawkwind out of the business permanently.

This album is a satire on the English middle-class which, by its stability and rigid morality, is stilting the nation with the need for indiscriminate progress and supra-commercialism. The lyrics present situations where "the sands of time were eroded by the river of constant change". The older people in England feel disorientated and incredulous at the way their country is losing its dignity for avarist. "I don't belong here, said Olde Tessa out loud, easy love, there's the safe way home, still alone in o-hello-o — sec the deadly nightshade grow."

The group actually feel their music, putting their sensitivity and creativity forward in an effort to capture that elusive quality that good music has. For this, they should be respected.

The compositions fall favourably on the ear, being soft and at the same time remarkably mecurial, a quality which sonorous bass and wailing lead guitars can never achieve. I strongly recomment that this album should be heard for its sensitivity and creativity.

Full Sail: Loggins and Messina. CBS SBP474152.

"God knows I live my music

Ain't never gonna change my tune."

That's Kenny and Jim making imperfectly clear about what you can expect on this, their third Columbia album. It's the usual well played country rock with the odd touch of schmaltz. All in all, it's not quite at strong as their fine first LP "Sittin' in" but certainly a whole lot better than the second. The trouble is there's so little real growth in evidence that I doubt whether "Full Sail" will win them much new support.

The ratio of good to bad material is about what you can expect these days, five good to five mediocre tracks. And the trouble seems to lie this time round with Jim Messina. Like many another old hand in the business Jim seems to be running short on new ideas. For most of the tracks that don't work on this album, "Lahaina", "You Need A Man" and "Coming To You" all sound like rewrites of songs on their previous albums. And the big track "Pathway to Glory" just wanders, saying not very much and going nowhere.

The better tracks mainly feature Loggins and are much more relaxed. "Sailin' the Wind" is a fine song and equal to any thing they've done before. Pleasant vocals, a very pretty guitar, and Messina's usually excellent production, Messina, right from the early days with Buffalo Springfield has always stood out as one of the finest arrangers and producers in the business, and his qualities in this area lift the better tracks right up. So in sum the problem with Loggins and Messina is the same one that's dogging a lot of otherwise talented musicians: a shortage of good songs. What is good here is done well, but there's not enough to carry the weaker material and lift the album above the merely pleasants. "Full Sail"? Well, in places, but let's hope they can catch the winds of change.

Silverbird: Leo Sayer (Chrysalis).

On the unspoken supposition that rampant paranoia stalks more in the sane ego than lunatic asylums (though the word most decent folk use is 'sensitive'), Leo Sayer is the most embarrassing saleable commodity to hit psychiatry since encounter groups.

Blushers don't shy when there's tact in the air and paranoids can rest easy in the company of mutes. But try Leo — who never heard of subtlety or delicacy — in a sensitivity session and the flimsy concept of saneness collapses.

Probably you've already heard "Silverbird" 's most scaredy-cat track, "The Show Must Go On", with that distressing falsetto verse and final guffaw into sick bliss. Already covered by Three Dog Night (and a nifty version at that), it's one of those nervous sociological abstractions: like Sidney Socialism working in Dollar City and all strung out and bushed because of it, there's Sayer in the circus screaming "I won't let the show go on" with his cohorts screeching show-business' compulsory maxim, "oh, but the show Must go on", in the wings.

If you're interested, you'll also find an alarming number called "Oh, Wot A Life" where Sayer bellows just that half-a-dozen times and finishes with two lines, repeated twice: "The next number we do is called Paranoia/it's the story of my life".

"Silverbird" might be 1974's Best LP from A Newcomer and the strangest thing about the whole deal is that brilliance doesn't come into it. Leo Sayer is simply new and fresh amid a bunch of googies. And if all this musical persecution and cris de coeur spells Put-On, it's maybe the finest ride I've been taken for."

Purchase now for guaranteed anguish.