Earth

Jefferson Starship

"For instance, if you watch Paul Butterfield when he works, he has done that song a million times, but when he does it, each time, he is inextricably involved in that song, and they are playing that song as if for the first time. "Marty [unclear: Balint]

Eleven years, and the nucleus of the original Airplane is together, for what it's worth, and for what it means. And so are the other musicians they've drawn along with them since the Starship's inception. And Earth runs neck and neck with Red Octopus as their finest achievement since Worst.

An intricate projection of the world functions reasonably colourfully on this one's label. On the A side we have New Zealand upside down in relation to the title of the second song, "Count on Me", — coincidentally the current single at the moment, so it also works on another level as an advertising gimmick. What?

The same design in neon. These lads have it wrapped so tightly, that that element is out of the picture. Except that we share the vast expanse of the Tasman on that A side with the ocker crocks. The label on the B side is more populated, naturally.

Behind Red Octopus, Earth - as the limited testament to the mother planet that it is - fares well amidst the material recorded since Marty Balin's original departure, but that was something else. It needed "Miracles" to push the spindle into prominence again, and Spitfire - the album separating Red Octopus and Earth, was admired by some and ran into disputatious circumstances in other areas. I didn't like it much.

Earth is a sound investment, for what it is. Science fiction-fantasy musical scenarios, with the intriguing perspective the Balin-Paul Kantner relationship added to the group as a whole, are an interesting musical medium to work in. When it is handled by professionals. Which is why I think this rates at least several notches above John Williams' recent flyblown muzak in the genre. When it's not handled by professionals, it might get pretty boring.

Sometimes, even when it is, there are instances when it leans towards tedium. Witness the introduction: "Love Too Good". Even with Peter Sear's fantastic piano notes, at just over six minutes it is a mite long. It would sound great edited to 2:30. Then perhaps Grace Slick's vocals could probably carry what are 'obviously' meant to be pain-filled lyrics to their intended target. Plus she might have been more incisive. But there's a mask preventing that. The musical backdrop, despite the time factor, is all that could be expected. It's well-played, but there is "oomph" missing somewhere.

A tighter hand on the mixer might have improved the situation, as is shown by the remainder of the side. We have "Count on Me", the charming "Take Your Time", and a song that - in a lot of ways - embodies the spirit that has earmarked the various permutations of the Airplane-Strarship from the Fillmore Ballrooms onwards: "Crazy Feeling". The harmonic twinings of the Kantner-Balin-Slick throats fashion it into a tune that spins around and around between your ears long after the arm has returned to rest. "Skateboard", side one's final track, is a piece of lightweight frippery that could easily have been dispensed with.

Side two opens with the solitary Balin-penned tune, "Fire", which bears no relation to the Hendrix narcotic fantasia exploration, and it is not as good, nor is it "Miracles", but those are high standards, and for what he does with it, it's probably worth the album. The main flaw is the repitition of the lyric and, no matter how tight the music is, that is only half the story.

They really cook together on "Show Yourself", with a particularly savage guitar solo, while the two remaining tracks are both part of the same coin: a clever dissection of the punk rock milieu which sound as if they emanate from the groin. "Runaway" is the superior of the two, with the added attraction of economy, but "All Night Long", again, goes on for far too long. The production and stereo separation is excellent, and that includes a really attractive and informative lyric sheet, something that you don't see too often these days. A good job all round.

Patrick O'Dea

Stick to Me

Graham Parker & The Rumour Vertigo

Rough Mix

Pete Townsend - Ronnie Lane Polydor

The Rumour is a real rock and roll band. Don't let anybody persuade you to the opposite. Graham Parker is possessed of a real rock and roll larynx, too. About the one de rigeur test they haven't faced to settle their credentials is the type of red tape being disentangled from Bruce Springsteen. New wave. Punk. I do care what label you attach to what. That's one fuck of a combo.

Astute design features on Stick to Me: to force it to stand up in the shops, you know. GP emblazoned in transluscent celluloid on a transparent roomy plastic sleeve. GP? Does that ring a bell? If not, my friend, you need your head analysed. And a stream of miniature portraits inside the cardboard for your plynth, satchel, whatever. Phonogram have lavished a lot of time and attention on this one.

The music inside? Does it stand up to Howlin' Wind? Heat Treatment? I demurred as the bass vibrated between the passage walls. So many ceilings, doors, bannisters fitting in a new record is an experience to cherish, even if it meant you couldn't enter the room for the first few times. Such is not a frequent occurence. When it does it's profitable to hang on to it. That totality. That feeling. Even if Stick to Me doesn't approach the near classic definition of loss adapted by Rod Stewart on the "fast" side of Atlantic Crossing, Parker and his band are old enough to realise what they want, and that experience means they're walking metal doors attaining it. Shots of Parker live burst with a manic energy stemming from a feeling about the world situation in general.

Rough Mix, its title notwithstanding, is tightly packaged and presented. It's also depressing and sad, yet it holds out the light at the end of that tunnel. What Peter Townsend doesn't know about rock and roll is not known to many. Add Ronnie Lane - two-time Face (once small, once flatulent) healthier now and, really, you have the finest and most neglected album of '78.

"Street in the City" shows it. It is the sort of thing you feel before you hear it, if you get my meaning. Alright. Charlie Watts sits in on drums on a couple of the tracks: help from Gallagher and Lyle, Ian Stewart, Julian Diggle, Bijou drains and John Entwistle (who else) mean a veritable feast. The music is, for the most part, soft and acoustic - in keeping with both Peter and Ronnie's belief in Indian mystic, Meher Baba. That doesn't detract from the music, however. In fact, after multiple listenings, anyone who can provide inspiration for this music on Rough Mix, had something going for him.

Patrick O'Dea