Manfred Mann's Earth Band - Angel Station (1979)

Steve:

Although Angel Station played a role in my early musical memories, my appreciation of this album and Manfred Mann's Earth Band has grown more recently. Like several albums from the time period covered on this blog, Angel Station was probably an album that Zeta-4 FM in Miami chose to play as their daily noontime album, with Dan at the ready with his Maxell C90 cassette. Many years later, I acquired my own vinyl copy of this album for $1 (those were the days, the 1990s), and I would play it every few years for nostalgia's sake. "Don't Kill it Carol", the opening track (also a single), was always a particular favorite. 

Several months ago, I found a Top of the Pops video clip of "Don't Kill it Carol" on YouTube, which I enjoyed immensely despite it being just a lip sync of the song. In the clip, the band's personality shone through, and the song's use of three different lead vocalists (Steve Waller for the verses, Chris Thompson for the chorus, and Mann himself for the bridge) got me interested in the band's versatility. I've now acquired all their vinyl albums from the early 70s through the early 80s, all waiting patiently for me in affordable racks in my local record stores - such are the thrills of being a music fan and vinyl consumer. 

In 1979 the Earth Band were a relatively high-profile band, having scored a major hit with a prog rock cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Blinded by the Light". Mann had long since established a reputation as a creative interpreter of other songwriters' material, particularly Springsteen and Dylan. Although Mann had been mining similar territory since he formed the band in 1972, his commercial breakthrough came with The Roaring Silence (1976), featuring a new lineup with Chris Thompson on lead vocals.  

For Angel Station, the band sounded appropriately high-tech and expertly produced, thanks in part to co-producer (with Mann) Anthony Moore, also a member of the experimental band Slapp Happy, which had collaborated with Canterbury prog giants Henry Cow! This is no experimental prog effort, however. From the opening track "Don't Kill it Carol" into the obligatory Dylan cover "You Angel You" (a huge improvement over the original version from Dylan's Planet Waves) to the perplexing Mann-sung closer "Resurrection", this is all state-of-the-art late 70s rock. If you take the pop sensibility of The Alan Parsons Project, apply it to arcane cover material and eclectic original songs, then inject the widescreen irony of Flash & the Pan, you may get something close to Angel Station. 

Manfred Mann himself has always kept his distance from the spotlight. In his various bands (including his Earth Band), he has never been the frontman or featured vocalist, and although he is a skilled composer, he has chosen to identify himself mainly as an interpreter of others' material. Choosing this anonymous route may have kept Mann and his bands from enjoying the legendary status of other equally prolific and talented artists of their time. But in the process, they may have extended their shelf life as artists, allowing music fans like me to discover an interesting, largely obscure body of work. Angel Station was the catalyst for my search. 

Dan:

Steve is probably correct about the origin of Angel Station as a noontime album, but I also acquired the vinyl copy pretty early. Mann was always a mysterious character to me. He had a hit single in 1968 with "The Mighty Quinn (Quinn the Eskimo)," a Bob Dylan song that everyone knew for its catchy chorus: "Come all without, come all within. You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn." The Mighty Quinn LP did not contain any original compositions, only covers. I also didn't know at the time that Mann was born in South Africa in 1940 as Manfred Lubowitz, but moved to the UK in 1961.

I continue to own only one Manfred Mann album, Angel Station, and it's one of the favorites in my whole collection. I have never dissected it to discover who plays what or analyzed the songs carefully (except perhaps for the dissection of "Resurrection" below). Still, it's an amazing record from beginning to end. 

The placement of "Resurrection," a Mann original, at the end serves as something of a postscript. It portrays Jesus' resurrection into a modern commercial world where He is greeted by promoters eager to monetize his reputation as savior of mankind. Hawking "Jesus hats, Jesus coats" is funny, and the capitalist asks Jesus if He brought any valuable memorabilia with him, such as a piece of the cross, a crown of thorns, or perhaps a disciple or two. Mann's clearly not mocking Jesus here; the target of his sarcastic wit is modern society where worth is measured only in monetary value. 

Devadip Carlos Santana - Oneness: Silver Dreams - Golden Reality (1979)

Dan:

Oneness: Silver Dreams - Golden Reality is easy to overlook, given its impressive predecessors - Caravanserai, Welcome, and Borboletta. To begin with, the album is attributed to Devadip Carlos Santana, not the Santana band. Carlos had only used this name once before, on Illuminations, a 1974 collaboration with Alice Coltrane. He would use it once more on Swing of Delight (1980), but he eventually lost faith in Sri Chinmoy, the guru who had given him (and his wife Deborah, who became Urmila) their spiritual names.

Oneness finds Devadip at his most spiritual, judging by the Buddhas on the album cover alone. Inside, the album sleeves contain similar artwork. This should not scare off fans of Santana's earlier albums. His guitar is featured on key tracks throughout, but guest musicians account for much of the album's distinction. For instance, Urmila offers the poignant narration on "I Am Free," accompanied by Clare Fischer on Fender Rhodes. The main vocalist, Greg Walker, appears on three of the tracks, and Saunders King delivers a stunning rendition of "Silver Dreams, Golden Smiles," again with Fischer's backing. Several tracks are less than two minutes long.

Despite the excellent playing on individual tracks, it's best to listen to this album in its entirety. In this respect, it follows a common prog pattern wherein the whole album takes precedence over its parts. For example, Urmila's 1:25 minute recitation on "I Am Free" would make no sense on its own. Neither would Walker's chant on the opening track, "The Chosen Hour." Indeed, the first six tracks all flow together, forming their own identity of "oneness."

There are plenty of rhythmic sections that we've come to expect from Santana albums, and while the guitar is positioned to serve the narrative, it also shines in the solo spotlight. For example, the opening passages of "Oneness" use Santana's' lower strings to play melodically in front of the modal chords sustained by organ and bass. Santana nuts can get their fill on this track alone and appreciate that it's also the longest track at 6:21 minutes. "Oneness" is followed by the funky "Life is Just a Passing Parade," which is obviously autobiographical for Santana. The closing "Song for Devadip" returns to soaring guitar territory as if to remind us that spirituality does not preempt solid rock and roll.

As the 1970s came to an end, Santana albums would continue on for another four decades. Blessings and Miracles (2021) is the latest of approximately 60 albums in the series, although it's hard to count them all amidst the reissues, compilations and live recordings. It's my hope that Santana's magical albums of the 1970s are not overlooked. 

Steve:

In the early 1990s, I picked up a vinyl copy of Oneness, fairly certain that at least bits of it would be familiar to me. I remembered the album cover from my childhood, but not all of the songs. The two memorable tracks were "Cry of the Wilderness" and "Song for Devadip", both instrumentals that are fueled by Devadip's guitar themes, and brought to completion through his unique gift for soloing around those themes.

I quickly found, however, that (as Dan said above) Oneness is clearly designed to be listened to as a whole, or at least as two unified vinyl sides. As with Borboletta, soulful vocal features sit side by side with both guitar-based instrumentals and scene-setting atmospheric tracks, often graced with wordless chanting.  

At this time, Devadip clearly felt comfortable splitting his artistic identity into two parallel parts - the more hit-oriented Latin rock of his band albums and the more exploratory jazz/rock of his solo work. Todd Rundgren had a similar split personality a few years prior, but the focus was reversed, where his solo work was the more pop-oriented and his band Utopia satisfied his more progressive urges. Eventually Todd merged both personas into the pop realm as progressive rock became less commercially relevant, and Devadip eventually did the same. 

Progressive rock fans would miss a lot if they chose to judge Carlos/Devadip as merely a classic pop/rock act, while ignoring the series of groundbreaking records he made in the 1970s.

Supertramp - Breakfast in America (1979)

Dan: 

Breakfast in America took America by storm in 1979. To get the inconsequential bits out of the way first, the cover was designed by Mike Doud, and the waitress is named Kate Murtagh. Manhattan (with twin towers intact) is reimagined as stacks of kitchen and dining artifacts, complete with silverware settings as the piers. The view is from an aircraft window. I've never seen an album cover more appropriate for reaching a mass US audience. It's not cynical, irreverent, or tasteless. It's just sincere, cheerful fun!

"Yes," you might say, "but an album cover such as this must surely be masking highly superficial music. You know, the kind of pop drivel found in America!" Sorry people, you'd be completely wrong. Breakfast in America delivers one of Supertramp's best albums - certainly their best seller - that could only be maligned by the most mean-spirited of critics. 

The album's title is an acknowledgement of the band's recording venue - The Village Recorder in Los Angeles. This accounts for much of the acclaim bestowed upon on the album by the audiophile press. It's a sonic gem. Detailed comments online about the microphone placement on the drum kit are a tribute to its audiophile reputation. Hundreds of other reviewers simply rave about the music and how it brings them back to their formative years - a soundtrack for fondly remembered times. 

I had my ears open to a lot of rock music in 1979 as I built my hi fi system gradually. My records had grown into a legitimate collection, as Steely Dan, Camel, Pink Floyd, Roxy Music, and Supertramp nestled together on the shelf. As stated in an earlier post, a colleague and I incorporated "The Logical Song" from Breakfast in America into a course we were teaching together. I was pleased to overlap my professional and personal interests as I hit an especially happy period in my career.

Beyond these purely personal reasons, Breakfast in America succeeds on the strengths of both the compositions and the performances, as perfected in the recording studio. The opener "Gone Hollywood," relates a tale of despair that eventually turns into fortune:

It was heartbreakin'

Now I ride in the big fine car

It was mind-achin'

I'm the talk of the Boulevard

So keep your chin up boy, forget the pain

I know you'll make it if you try again

There's no use in quitting

When the world is waiting for you

Other songs provide vignettes suggesting doubt and search. "Goodbye Stranger" deals with one-night relationships; "Take the Long Way Home" offers a temporary solution to the pain and strife of touring. And the closing "Child of Vision" (my favorite track) offers solace to those who are losing their way in the world:

There must be more to this life

It's time we did something right

Child of Vision, won't you listen

Find yourself a new ambition

By the end of the album, we come to realize that the happy face of the cover masks a deeply felt set of challenges not only affecting rock stars climbing to the top but also ordinary people. In a sense, we're all children of vision struggling to find peace and happiness amidst the dangerous distractions of the world.

Steve:

In the summer of 1979, when I turned 10 years old, Breakfast in America was arguably one of the dominant forces in popular culture, at least from my youthful perspective. To help occupy my time, my parents enrolled me in a YMCA day camp that summer, during which we did only three things I can recall: a) played ping pong, b) played "Nok-Hockey", and most importantly, c) played music on the jukebox. For the latter, three songs come to mind as the defining songs of that summer, all of which I enjoyed fully: Andy Gibb's "Shadow Dancing", Styx's "Renegade", and Supertramp's "The Logical Song". The Supertramp song had the added benefit of providing me with a lot of new big words I could try out. But I was already quite familiar with "The Logical Song" because Dan played it at home a lot. Little did I know he was building an entire college-level course inspired by it.

In fact, the entire Breakfast in America album was full of tracks that wove relentlessly into my thoughts and experiences during this time, and thanks to my ongoing interest in Supertramp (not just this album), they have never been far from my consciousness. Even a deep cut B-side such as "Just Another Nervous Wreck" has a way of entering my head with no provocation and staying there for an entire day or more. 

Recently, my wife was nearly driven to madness by Clear Channel's playlist, on which she would hear within any given two-hour period at least two of the same four songs from Breakfast in America ("Logical Song", "Goodbye Stranger", "Take the Long Way Home", and "Breakfast in America"). Thankfully, I avoid Clear Channel and choose my own music, but Supertramp is nevertheless always nearby - and always welcome.

All of this is a lighthearted way of poking fun at Breakfast in America for being so darn omnipresent and enjoyable throughout my life. Each generation has its defining albums, and this just may be one of those albums for my youth, maybe in the same way A Hard Day's Night was for a generation before me. 

Now that I'm taking the time to write about it, it occurs to me that I probably had taken Breakfast in America for granted, but now that I put quill to parchment, I recognize how important this album has been in my life, even if I wasn't aware of it at the time.

Camel - I Can See Your House From Here (1979)

Steve:

Having entered a new phase of their history with 1978's Breathless album, but also facing ongoing transience and uncertainty, Camel made their 1979 album I Can See Your House From Here with a very different lineup. Founding keyboardist Peter Bardens (a key composer for the band along with guitarist Andy Latimer) left the fold, as did bassist/vocalist Richard Sinclair. In their place, Camel added keyboardist Jan Schelhaas (recently of Caravan) and bassist Colin Bass (recently a member of Steve Hillage's touring band). Providing a new dimension to the band was the temporary addition of a second keyboardist - Kit Watkins, from Happy the Man. Woodwind maestro Mel Collins, drummer Andy Ward, and of course guitarist Andy Latimer (the only constant throughout the band's history) remained. 

Production duties were handled by Rupert Hine, who had already accumulated an impressive list of credits among both commercial and progressive artists, and who would continue at the helm of some very highly regarded albums in the 1980s. With that kind of support, Camel was in a good position to make a quality album with commercial potential. 

The commercial potential was only partially realized, but I Can See Your House From Here remains a superbly accomplished and enjoyable album, combining the best of Camel's instrumental and songwriting capabilities. The two-keyboard lineup immediately makes its presence felt in the electrifying opener "Wait", a fast rocker with frequent tempo shifts and a great keyboard duet where Schelhaas and Watkins trade off 8-bar phrases with their dazzling techniques. As with Breathless, I Can See Your House caught some fans off guard with the inclusion of a couple of mainstream pop songs. The second track "Your Love is Stranger Than Mine" (sung by Bass) is the most obvious example, following in the footsteps of the prior album's "You Make Me Smile".  "Neon Magic", another pop-friendly tune later in the album, was released as a single together with "Your Love is Stranger Than Mine", although it failed to chart.

Although I enjoy the pop tunes Camel offers on this platter, I'd rather write about the startling highlights. "Who We Are" and "Hymn to Her" are both vocal-based love songs with powerful pop hooks in their choruses, but both songs progress in unusual ways. "Who We Are" begins with a lengthy, brisk guitar-based theme before segueing into a completely different theme for the verses and chorus, only returning to the opening theme's melody for a slow and somber restatement prior to the final chorus. "Hymn to Her" also begins with a strong guitar-based instrumental that is reinforced with several repetitions of the verse, including a variation in a new key that's used as an unexpected bridge. The kicker is that the chorus doesn't come in until much later, at which point it repeats until the end of the song, making for a lovely conclusion that releases all of the emotion built up earlier in the song.

The closing 10-minute instrumental "Ice" deserves its own paragraph, as one of the best examples in the Camel discography of Latimer's expressive lead guitar style.  It's a slow song with a minor but majestic chord progression, over which a simple melody is established and developed on acoustic guitar, piano, Moog synthesizer, and finally electric guitar. Latimer wisely takes his time to build the emotion in the various solos, so that the track holds the listener's attention the whole way through. "Ice" is a cathartic musical experience. Whether you feel like you're floating through the sky or feel like crying your eyes out, you will probably not escape this track unaffected.

I Can See Your House From Here appeared in our home soon after the discovery of Breathless, and those two albums remain two of my favorite Camel albums, possibly because of their entry into my life as a pre-teen. Following prog's initial heyday, Camel survived by adopting the song-based style of bands such as the Alan Parsons Project and Supertramp. Although they didn't enjoy as much success as those bands, Camel's albums are as good as either of them.

Dan:

I couldn't write a better entry than Steve's, which captures my own thoughts about I Can See Your House From Here. I listen to "Ice" often and always find it exhilarating. It's the best evidence to support my claim that Andy Latimer is a top-5 rock guitarist, sadly underappreciated by most so-called rock experts. The inclusion of a mostly instrumental track featuring a long, soaring solo from Latimer was to become a staple of live shows and later albums. "The Hour Candle" from Harbor of Tears (1996), "Lawrence" from Rajaz (1999), and "For Today" from Nod and a Wink (2002) are all in the same vein as "Ice."

My copy of the album is a British vinyl pressing that sounds much better than the CD, although there have been more recent digital remasters by Esoteric that I haven't heard. The vinyl beautifully captures all the nuances of Latimer's signature tone. If you're curious enough to stream or download the album, Spotify and Amazon Music have compressed lossy versions available. Qobuz has a 2011 lossless CD-quality download of the album for $7.19. Alternatively, you can download the single track "Ice" from Qobuz for $0.89. Not a bad price to pay for one of the most sublime guitar tracks in prog history.

Pink Floyd - The Wall (1979)

Steve:

Pink Floyd's The Wall was quite an oddity when it came out. I was already a fan of the band's work, so I listened with interest. As a 10-year-old, I had trouble following the story being told in the album, so thankfully Dan gave me a rough summary. As this dense art rock album was making the rounds among excited Floyd fans, another strange thing was taking place: the hit single "Another Brick in the Wall Part 2" was constantly on the radio, and the "we don't need no education" lyric became the equivalent of a "meme" for that era. It made for a strange juxtaposition - a serious, heavy concept album buttressed by a popular and danceable hit single. If nothing else, that song ensured that virtually everyone knew about The Wall in one way or another.

When the movie of The Wall came out in 1982, Dan took me to see it, and it was my first R-rated movie. Given the cinematic treatment, the album's themes of insanity, violence and misanthropy were presented in a shockingly nightmarish way to my young eyes and ears, and I do remember being frightened by certain scenes in the film. This did nothing to dull my adoration for the album (and the film), as it only added to the gravity and intensity of the story told in the songs.  

Although most Pink Floyd fans rate The Wall highly in the Floyd's discography, the virtues of its narrative structure and heavy subject matter are still a matter of debate. For example, although few can find fault with the excellent first side of the album, which flows exceptionally well and has no weak spots, by the time sides three and four roll around some people find the album a little tedious - especially the melodramatically orchestrated "Trial" that Pink, the protagonist, subjects himself to. It's one of the parts of the movie that scared me, thanks to Gerald Scarfe's grotesque animations.  

But in the final analysis, a classic album is still a classic album. The Wall is deeply entrenched in rock history as well as popular culture, and any flaws it has are all part of the package, take them or leave them. Besides, the relatively slow and less accessible portions on the second half of the album are appropriate, given that at this point in the narrative, Pink has "gone off the deep end". And even in the depths of his demented murk, the Floyd offer two of their most-loved songs, "Comfortably Numb" and "Run Like Hell". Of course, you also have to swallow the horrifying fascist nightmare of "In the Flesh" and "Waiting for the Worms". Not an easy listen, but that's the nature of the beast. If given the chance, I wouldn't change a thing.

Dan: 

Having now been busted for taking impressionable underage children to see The Wall movie, I feel somewhat guilty to put Steve through it. It wasn't just Steve but his friend Tim as well. Poor kids - warped for life! But I jest. I thought the experience would be good for three (including me) Pink Floyd fans to see, but I admit that the film goes a bit too far and could have been less graphic. Mea culpa. 

Diehard Pink Floyd fans should be accustomed to Roger Waters' need to vent his every emotion. I gather he was not fond of school or World War II, and he had issues with parents and bandmates. The Wall's extreme dramatization of such issues is a bit grandiose, but I'm willing to tolerate any serious artist's need for expression. That is, as long as David Gilmour gets to play chorus after chorus of "Comfortably Numb." 

Other bits I like: the nostalgic bow to Vera Lynn, a British singer known for her patriotic songs during World War II; the shocking opener "In the Flesh?" (not the fascist nightmare song without the question mark); and the finale "Outside the Wall," which acknowledges the pain inflicted on all the bleeding hearts and loved ones who support "mad buggers" like Pink.

All alone or in twos

The ones who really love you

Walk up and down outside the wall

Some hand in hand

And some gather together in bands

The bleeding hearts and the artists make their stand

And when they've given you their all

Some stagger and fall

After all it's not easy

Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall