What's New?: 8.1.2015

Grab bag! Been a while, let's get to it!

HB Barnum — The Golden Boy Instrumental Album (1965)

Nothing here too beat-y, but good listening nonetheless, as it's the cream of the LA session crop and HB arranging those big wonderful crescendos. Not as all out funky as HB would get in a few years time, it's actually more at home in the easy listening side of things. The ballads are where it's at, mostly.  Produced by David Axelrod, of course.  Key tracks: it's all of one piece, but check out 'I Want to be With You' and get reminded of your grandparents 50th wedding anniversary party.

William Tyler — Deseret Canyon (2008/reissued 2015)

First released under the name the Paper Hats in Germany only, Merge decided to reissue this album —which can now be properly assigned as William Tyler's solo debut— this past Record Store Day. Super nice package, complete with a gatefold cover. It kicks off with the thirteen minute opus 'Man of Oran', which is an awesome statement of purpose. Just to prove he's not dicking around, track two is the tuneful twelve minute, twelve string jangler 'Parliament of Birds.' The middle section of the album is occupied by more concise pieces and one psychedelic sound collage.  It's all very Fahey-esque.  Another epic to end the album and it's quite likely Will's most resonating tune, pre-Impossible Truth.  Wonderful to finally have it physically.  Key tracks: the long ones!

Fine Steps — Boy's Co. (2012)

A Sacramento and San Francisco pop underground supergroup, of sorts, Fine Steps play modern jangle like nobody's business.  'Dig Me In' nails the Smiths so perfectly, I can't believe this didn't catch on.  'Course, the dummies only pressed like 500 or some ridiculous thing.  Finishing up the opening one-two combo punch is 'The Heat' and that's a darned great start.  Things never really waver from there and, as far as jangle pop goes, these dudes have tunes for days.  Check out the stuff on Bandcamp (highlights conspicuously missing though) and then go check out 'Patty Smith Hearst' for the most resonating Echo and the Bunnymen song you've never heard until right now.  Top gear, all the way.  Just wish they had put out more stuff.  Key tracks: 'Dig Me In', 'The Heat' and 'Pardon Me'

Crisis Arm — Rend (2014)

Hemet, California newgazers (that's "new shoegaze" for the uninitiated).  They play shoegaze in the most faithful of ways, so when I say that, 'Resemblance' shouldn't come as the shock that it no doubt will.  There's a lot of bands that can rightfully claim to be influenced by Slowdive and the Valentines and the like, but there's noticeably few who actually do such a thing justice like Crisis Arm does.  I mean, when I say this is a shoegaze album, it doesn't get much more satisfying for fans of the stuff than the gargantuan highlight 'Stray.'  Their whole catalogue is on the Spotify, but it would behoove you to check out their Bandcamp for tons of extras.  Just now catching up to this, otherwise it would definitely have made my best of 2014 picks.  Key tracks: 'Stray', 'Resemblance' and the beautifully woozy closer 'Sunder'

Gary McFarland — Today (1969)

Easy pop on Gary's Skye label.  Mostly covers, some of them quite bizarre.  Things begin with a winningly whispery, indeed almost folky rendition of the Beatles' 'Because.'  Onward to the goofy spoken word variation of Leonard Cohen's 'Suzanne.'  Elsewhere there's bossa bachelor pad scatstrumental covers of Stevie Wonder, more Beatles and a couple Brazilian standards that you'd swear he'd already done before this album: 'The Shadow of Your Smile' and 'Desafinado.'  The two originals (the guitarist Sam Brown feature 'Shadows are Falling' and 'Sambras de Saudade') are excellent, though not really jazz at all — which makes sense, as Gary had moved on from any pretense of being a jazz player by this point anyway.  It all ends with a fantastic version of 'Berimbau.'  Ron Carter and Hubert Laws guest among the supporting cast of excellent musicians.  Not a total winner —and Gary has much better albums in this vein— but a must if you're a fan.  It's on Spotify if you're curious.  Key tracks: 'Because', 'Shadows are Falling' and 'Sambras de Saudade'

Matching Mole — Matching Mole's Little Red Record (1972)

Released the same calendar year as the band's self-titled debut, it gets even further out than that record.  Just have a listen to 'Marchides' and you'll get a very good picture of where this album is headed, as the first three minutes is all scorching doodly chaos.  Some fantastic rhodes piano work in the middle section, though. There's a concept at work here and sometimes, like on 'Gloria Gloom', it threatens to overtake the actual music.  I prefer the instrumentals much more over the vocal tunes, as they really find the band exploring some interesting territory.  This is the standard one disc edition of the album; there is an expanded two disc version that appends an entire live set, which I'm sure is worthwhile if you like the album (which I do).  Key tracks: 'Marchides' and the closing trip 'Smoke Signal'

Kenny Barron — Sunset to Dawn (1973)

And some nice, spiritual jazz to finish things out.  I was interested in this because it has one of my all time favorite sampled bits in the first minute or so of the album; I can finally cross it off my want list.  Kenny plays rhodes on about half the album and he sounds really great doing so, really getting funky at certain points, but mostly he finds these deeply introspective and happy chords on the instrument; the sort of which made me love the sound of it in the first place.  Overall, a darn good record by an underrated pianist.  Listen on Spotify.  Key tracks: the bookends 'Sunset' and 'Dawn'

If you're wondering where I've been or are worried that I don't have stuff to talk about, wonder no longer and worry not because there's this to get to. . .

We'll get there soon enough!

~Austin

David Axelrod — David Axelrod (2001)

And now, as a stopgap, a previously unissued outtake from my decade wrap up. I did this for a website, which I don't currently recall, but it was never used. The idea was to pick one highlight album for the 2000-2009 decade and write about it. So, I made the obvious choice. This probably dates from around December 2009 or January 2010. Here 'tis:
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David Axelrod — David Axelrod (Mo’Wax, 2001)

To say that the timing of when this album was released played a part in the high regard in which I now hold it would be perhaps one of the biggest autobiographic understatements I could possibly make. I had just recently completed my David Axelrod catalogue about six months previous and had really digested everything fully and unfortunately found myself at a dead end after a three year odyssey of seeking and finding an engaging stream of elusive and endlessly rewarding albums that weren't similar in neither substance nor quality to anything else with which I was previously familiar. It was a moment of now unfamiliar stagnation in my listening habits. There were no more David Axelrod compositions with which I was unfamiliar. In addition to the Axelrod catalogue, it was back to Miles at Fillmore East and Sun Ra's Lanquidity if I was in the mood to have my listening ear challenged and my musical heartstrings tugged at in equal measure. But still, there was a definite and unmistakable feeling of emptiness: there was no more that would be new to me.

Fast forward six months.

I bought it on Japanese import for nearly three times the domestic price because I could hear it a matter of days sooner than if I had waited for the domestic version.

It was worth every penny.

I didn't know this going into my first listen of the album, but —perhaps in the ultimate of Axe-o-phile dreams come true— the bulk of the album was built from acetates of unfinished tracks from the late 1960’s. Sure, they were only decaying rhythm section structures, but the vibe was there.

That feeling.

That challenge.

Those irrecoverable moments, denying the laws of physics and of plain old common sense, being literally resurrected before one’s ears.

Carol Kaye on electric bass in her prime? Earl Palmer shuffling a swamp beat on cue? The then deceased for nearly a decade Howard Roberts belting out his effortless perfection? Don Randi sitting at the piano, playing block chords with one hand and counting his bankroll with the other?

All present. All captivating.

It came out in the years following its release that the tracks were for a doomed third album that Axe was to do under the Electric Prunes guise; a theme album based around Goethe’s Faust. Sure, that now sounds pretty ‘heavy man’ and all well good, but even a casual listen to the album puts some light onto those in between bits surrounding such monuments like Songs of Innocence and Earth Rot.

For instance, ‘The Dr. and the Diamond’ would be right at home on Songs of Experience while things like ‘Fantasy For Ralph’ and ‘For Land’s Sake’ sound plucked from the sessions for the Messiah album and ‘Jimmy T’, with its shrill wordless choir, seems a dead ringer for an Earth Rot outtake. Sure, this music sounds of its time, but nothing else —then or now— sounds even remotely like it.

So, if it seems formulaic in comparison to his previous works, that makes sense for two reasons:

#1) The works are basically finished demos from a specific time period, inevitably recalling the finished works of the time and

#2) They are the compositions of David Axelrod. With Earl Palmer on drums or not, with vocals or without, his music has a strangely strong cohesion and unification to it that can be accurately described as intensely passionate and passionately intense.

For the hip hop heads and aspiring beatmakers that were hipped to Axe through his two or three (oft-sampled) big open drum breaks — and then, upon seeking out the original recordings and putting those —admittedly, now seemingly insignificant— breaks into context, it was truly a revolution of the mind. But it was still always great to hear the break. And there’s plenty of them to be heard on this album. As Earl Palmer was the drummer on all those late 60’s sessions, he is at the rhythmic helm for the duration here as well. Numerous open breaks and downright incredible MPC-feeding moments are littered throughout the album; but perhaps never more than on the epic highlight, ‘The Shadow Knows.’

Named in homage to DJ Shadow, the tune is an appropriately slow, purposely leisurely dirge through dissonant minor changes and rewarding buildups and subsequent breakdowns. Don Randi plays a Hammond B-3, Earl gets countless solos, Carol Kaye holds down the low end with a dizzying array of tonal colors, Howard Roberts wails away and second (and criminally underrated) guitarist Peter Wyant provides some stinging light distortion.

It captures what I feel is the essence of Axelrod’s music: Los Angeles in the late 60’s in the early morning hours after a night of who knows what. And, in a moment of venerability, a moment of unsure apprehension, things become clear. Things become simultaneously unachievable and completely real. In that brief moment, you realize you are a living, breathing organism among trillions of other such things on this lone, mostly water covered rock, floating through the unknown. It’s a scary feeling. You kind of like it regardless. This music sounds literally like the undying fear of, and coexisting fascination with, the unknown.

There were two then recently recorded vocal works that book ended the album and they were, at once, the past and the —still, unfortunately, unrealized— present of David Axelrod’s music.

The first of the two was 'The Little Children,' the first track on the album and appropriately featured Los Angeles rapper Ras Kass —who previously had rapped atop an Axelrod sample on the Diamond D remixed version of his own ‘Soul On Ice’— snarling social commentary on top of a chaotic, and completely drum-less, Axelrod string arrangement: a peak at a direction hip hop could’ve gone, but didn’t.

The second was the last track on the album. A collaboration with Lou Rawls, whom Axe had done uncountable sessions with in the 60’s, titled ‘Loved Boy.’ It was a dark, dreary and curiously enthralling paean to Axe’s long-deceased son. Rawls sings of young Scott Axelrod, ‘Rest in peace and when asked, say: Here lies a man’s best work.’

Indeed.

Just excuse the thirty three years tardiness.
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Regular updates will pick up again soon. I promise.

~Austin

What's New?: 1.23.2013

A batch of seven inch singles. . .

Bill Withers — The Gift of Giving / Let us Love (1972)

Rarely heard non-album action from one of the best ever.  The a-side here is a typically melancholy number for Bill.  Making good feelings about family and acquaintances into a minor key introspective tone poem masked as a holiday song.  Super warm, super deep; still Bill.  The flip is a tune called 'Let Us Love' that was performed on Bill's live album, but this is the almost never heard studio version here.  It continues in the holiday theme, but I really dig the message of the tune: be nice all year round.  If you like someone, let them know.  Don't fake it for a month or so at the end of the year.  Really a hard song to dislike.  

Carla Morrison — Una Salida / Tu Luz (2011)

The only instance I've found of Carla's music on vinyl.  And, yes —and I do mean YES— it is a good one.  The a-side is one of her best ballads.  Aching, building and beautiful, it's the reason I love her music.  The b-side is 'Tu Luz.'  And while the song starts out as a typically pretty acoustic Carla Morrison ballad, by two minutes in, it builds to a dreamy, towering, piano-laced wall of sheer beauty.  One of her dreamiest tunes, it's the clear winner on this single. 

David Axelrod — Theme from "Gumshoe" / The Lost Lament (1972)

Super essential, but unfortunately rarely heard non-album single produced and arranged by the man himself.  The timeline of this single is just insane: Axe was fresh off the death of his son, recording the Pride album (easily one of his best works), quickly slamming out his blue-eyed soul rendition of the Messiah and then to work on his bluesy funk rumination on the slave trade.  Somehow, in the middle of all that, he found time to reassemble a good portion of the band that had recorded his classic albums on Capitol for this completely inexplicable (in retrospect) non-album single.  For me to sit here and type out how good it is is redundant at this point.  This is simply my acquisition of this record in physical form.  Thanks to one of the current internets, I've known these tunes for a few years now.  The a-side may seem gimmicky upon initial glance, but it's given the vintage Axe treatment and the result is fanboy fodder of the highest order.  The flip is a little tune called 'The Lost Lament' and, as a greenhorn Axe scholar, I'd venture to say it's probably in the top five most important original David Axelrod songs of all time.  Keen listeners may pick the tune out as something Axe would redo a couple years later in a more polished fashion.  But listen to this initial rendition of the tune.  It's huge.  It's aching.  It's triumphant.  It's funky beyond belief.  I don't know whether to dance or cry.  It's just complete musical perfection.  There's a reason he is the best ever.  This is just one contributing factor.  Roughly six minutes of music and I'm still babbling on, years later, about how incredible it is.  I finally own this vinyl for myself.  It's a musical monument for me: I can now say I own every record this man has ever made under his own name.  Finally.

~Austin

Messiah

Although there were some important things that he was working on —and which were released— in the interim, David Axelrod's follow-up to Earth Rot was released a little over a year later and with a few important changes. Chief among these being that this was his first album not on Capitol, and the first to start off his label-jumping 1970's decade.

And this is a weird album, especially considering the context.

If you are to count the Pride album as a David Axelrod solo record in all but name (which I personally do, but I'll get to it later; as it's technically not), then you have to consider that Axe was coming off the most progressive and personal work he would ever do. And then, when you go the next step and consider that he did one of his heaviest (and least like his signature style) albums immediately after this 1971 album, this album just seems completely out of place.

In retrospect, the Messiah album almost seems a little stopgap.

There's a producer listed on the liner notes that isn't Axe (Ronald Budnik — exactly, who?!) and Cannonball conducts, perhaps suggesting that Axe's whole heart was not really in on this one. And, just looking at the surface —old compositions with new arrangements, production and conducting duties someone else' problem— it's easy to write this one off. And I did. For a long time.

Still not my favorite Axe album by a long shot, I've warmed up to David Axelrod's Rock Interpretation of Handel's Messiah (it's full original title, later changed to just Messiah) quite a bit over the years. It was the first Axe album I heard, and so, based on that alone, it will always have a special place in my heart. It's just that the album feels less like a step forward (as all of his first three albums did), as it does more like a holding pattern.

Starting the album off with "Overture," one of the greatest and most epic Axe tunes ever, is not bad by any means. The tune is one of only two instrumentals on the album and it is easily the most reminiscent of anything previous. The first two and a half minutes are the closest Axe had yet come to traditional classical music. Lots of big, dynamic string and woodwind sections with varying time signatures, and no backbeat to speak of. A fantastic pre-cursor to the works he would attempt much later, it's just as confusing as it is intriguing. When the fuzzed-out electric guitar strums atop a grandiose string section two minutes in, you know something's up. A short theme and then silence. A gently plucked electric guitar chord and some vibes resonate, an electric guitar distorts its way into the mix and then an electric bass wails the impending theme in a high register. And then, wait, that perfectly dramatic drum fill? There's Earl! Crash and in comes the swamp beat and HO-LEE-SHIT, what an epic buildup that was! The rest of the tune rolls along with too many amazing moments to try and articulate here. Just know it's one of Axe's best.

And then some pretty piano chords. "Comfort Ye My People" is the first song to feature vocals on the album and they're really good, actually. Kind of done in that pop soul style that Axe was so fond of. They're mixed in kind of low, which is a shame because the male vocalist (unlisted) is really kind of guttin' it the whole way through, even cracking and breaking pitch in a few places. Fantastic stuff, actually. But so unlike the overture, it's not even funny. I mean, is this a Lou Rawls outtake? Great stuff, in any case.

And then we have another Lou Rawls song (actually "And the Glory of the Lord"), but sang by a female lead backed by a choir this time (again, unlisted). The arrangement here is just as nice as any of Axe's Capitol productions and there's even a bit of twang in the electric guitar, perhaps suggesting that this is actually Axe's blues rock interpretation of the Messiah.

Presumably, "Behold, A Virgin Shall Conceive" has the same female lead as the last tune, because she's just as awesome. The arrangement here is slow and unfolding. So much so, that by the time the song is over, you'll want a lot more. The thing has changed for the better so much that you'll want a little repetition of that last little section. The song, perhaps more than anything else on the album, with its belting female lead and heavy reliance on fender rhodes accents, most heavily highlights the gospel slant of this rendition of the Messiah. The final thirty seconds or so —an infinitely lush layer of interlocking strings and horns— is absolute heaven for me. Complete and utter musical perfection. Besides the overture, this is my favorite song on the album.

Flip the record and you're greeted by... more classical music. Actually very nice and not the least bit funky, "Pastoral Symphony" is just as its titles implies. A faithful rendition, I hated it and skipped it every time I played the album for years until I finally became a man and started listening to classical music. I mean, does this sound like a David Axelrod song? No. But the rest of everything else on the album does, so this is easy to disregard. But give it a chance and it's a good mood setter for side two.

Starting off sounding like it's going to be an extension of "Pastoral Symphony," "And the Angel Said Unto Them" features a heavy swamp beat from Earl Palmer and some seriously good subtle guitar work. The female lead is less soulful and a little more operatic and traditional, but she's completely out of sync with the otherwise incidentally funky backing track. I mean, this backing track has to be a Song of Innocence outtake. It's that good. Tons of loping horns and a growing string section lay underneath a shifting, longingly beautiful backdrop, accented by lots of fuzzed out guitar and Hammond B-3 riffs. Too bad that opera lady won't shut up. Sorry, but she ruins it. Good song, could've been better though.

"Glory to God," honestly, is what I expected this album to sound like. A big choir arrangement and little intermittent instrumental sections. A little over the top and very vocally focused, it sounds like the sort of middle of the road AM pop rock that seemed inherent upon looking at the cover of the album.

Despite its kick ass Earth Rot-style quick as lightning flute solo, "Hallelujah" is more of the same. Big horns, big choir, a little Hammond B-3 to give it some stereotypical 'churchiness' and that's that. Not a real big fan of this one, but it serves its purpose I guess.

"Worthy is The Lamb" opens with —at least I've always assumed but can neither conform nor deny because of the lame liner notes— a solid Cannonball Adderley soprano cameo that is completely jubilant yet softly captivating and so appropriate for the last song on the album. Another all-choral vocal, it's at least quite varied in its arrangement, with a nice instrumental breakdown in the middle. A good note to end on as well, as it feels perfectly resounding in its final cadence.

As my first Axe album, it was acquired incredibly easily in comparison to the lengths I had to go to in the following years. I found it in the racks at my local used record spot (the only album I was able to find there; everything else was either reissues, eBay or out of town spots), so I just assumed for years that it was Axe's easiest to find album. I don't know how this one did initially. It popped up quite a bit ten years ago, but originals are seemingly less available these days. In any case, here's the original 1971 issue on RCA "Dynaflex" (a/k/a shyte) vinyl. You can't see it in the photos, but the cross on the cover is die cut and actually pops out. So cool:


The album was reissued on vinyl only in the early 2000's (I want to say 2002, but I don't know, as I didn't pick it up right away). The vinyl reissue does away with the original's gatefold cover, gets rid of the die cut cross and replaces the original slate card stock with a glossy one. The mastering is the same:


As the first proper Axe album that I was able to sit down and listen to from beginning to end, this was a real letdown for me. I knew the original EMI UK compilation (Anthology 1968-1970), so I knew some of the choice Capitol stuff, but this album was just a head scratcher for me. The overture was what I wanted. Stuff like "Hallelujah" and "Glory To God" was not. It was a seriously confusing album. Not in the good Earth Rot way either. In the bad, 'Is this really what I like?' way.

The liner notes told me next to nothing about the specifics.

Cannonball conducted, huh? So, basically, he got drunk, said, 'Yeah, Axe, that sounds good,' played a short solo at the beginning of a tune and then went and recorded Soul Zodiac? Who is Ronald Budnik? Who are "The Dillons" (credited as 'artist')?!?! What was the motivation behind Axe doing a record on RCA; how did that happen? Who is in the band?

Basically, this album was frustrating then, and after years of analyzing and constantly reassessing the music, it still is. Even more so, in fact. The liner notes are almost intentionally vague (I'm just assuming that's Earl Palmer on drums because if it's not, somebody's jockin' his style pretty heavy). Most of the backings sound like the arrangements that Axe did for Lou Rawls, so accordingly, this sounds more like an Axe production and less like an Axe album. Truly, the only things here that sound like David Axelrod songs are the overture and "Behold."

But, in the end, it does have that undeniable Axelrod sound throughout most of it. If it's not as soul-wrenching or resonating as anything that came before it, that, in retrospect, can be forgiven because of the highs that were achieved before it. Everybody needs to take a breather every now and then. And this was Axe's. Sure, it's a rehash of the religiously-themed Electric Prunes albums from a few years previous, but it's done in a way more soulful style. One that reflects the blues and gospel influence that modern religious music has, implying that before spiritual was spiritual, it was soulful.

This, even though I wouldn't realize it until much later, was a wonderful preview for where he would go next.

~Austin

Earth Rot

‘In the beginning… In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth…’

And so begins David Axelrod’s third solo album; perhaps one of the most twistedly difficult changes in artistic direction any recording musician has undergone.

Don’t believe me?

Well, perhaps giving an insight into what Song of Innocence may have sounded like had Hardwater taken on their proposed vocal duties, this is the first of David Axelrod’s albums to feature vocals. There are no strings. Instead, the chorus is arranged in a style that mirrors what a string section would have sounded like. Tons of reverbed-out monotone shrill that is mixed in —if you can believe this— even louder than the drums.

And, oh yeah, the album’s called Earth Rot: A Musical Comment on the State of the Environment and the chorus sings about how badly civilization has and is destroying Mother Nature.

For all of its big tunefulness and fantastically jazzy solos (mostly courtesy of Ernie Watts on tenor), it is genuinely shocking to hear for the first time. Even for an artist as unique as Axe, it is the single weirdest thing he ever did. The musical backings are easily the jazziest of his Capitol albums, but even comparisons to those previous two genre-defying records does them absolutely no justice; nor does it give any indication of what they actually sound like. The only thing that gives even a slight clue of what you’re in for is Songs of Experience’s “London”: a manic tune whose three minute existence was solely build up, break down and reconstruct something entirely new as quickly as possible. Then repeat. But even that is just a philosophy of composition and says nothing about the actual tonality of the music.

There is nothing comparable to this music, simply because there is nothing else that sounds like it.

Which might explain why it’s so gosh-danged hard to assess. Perhaps if something had been established in its wake, it would be possible to recognize it as the foundation upon which a style was built. But, no. There is nothing. Just this stunning curiosity of an album that sounds like it came from another galaxy.

The lyrics to this album were wonderfully adapted by David’s son Michael from the Old Testament of the Bible and the ancient Book of Navajo Spirits. They are mostly pretty scolding to contemporary society as they coincide with each side of the record. Side one is called “The Warnings” and side two is called “The Signs,” with each being divided into four parts, though playing seamlessly as one larger piece. It’s nice to listen to the album on CD, as to pinpoint exactly where each part of each larger piece begins, but it should be kept in mind that each side of the album was meant to be digested as a whole. Book ended by two a capella spoken pieces, it can now be seen as one of the very first concept albums to exist.

After the initial spoken intro, "The Warnings Part I” enters and you’ll hear an honest-to-goodness strummed acoustic guitar. A wash of vibes and then probably the most famous four bars of music from this album drops in with a flute accompaniment. As the only fully instrumental piece on the album, it is a showcase for Earl Palmer. The somber block piano chords that Don Randi gently pounds away at throughout the song’s all-too-brief two minutes provide a fitting overture for the blissfully nightmare-ish daydream that follows. The final thirty or so seconds when the vibes hit a subtly high register and Earl Palmer plays a signature swamp beat is one of the album’s most sparsely satisfying moments.

“The Warnings Part II” is again introduced with sparse Don Randi piano chords and a cymbal-heavy Earl Palmer bounce of a beat. And then, BAM, at twenty seconds in, the chorus blasts your ears away with the cry that ‘man’s whole Earth is sick.’ The way this thing goes from restrained and sparsely beautiful to uncomfortably blissed out, and furthermore, how quickly it does so, is astounding. A minute into the tune and things are on the move again, as the theme changes and it repeats and whips itself into a big crescendo, only to be rectified by an appropriately busy Ernie Watts solo. A minute later, the tune is broken into near-silence yet again, as the band drops out and the chorus does the same melodic buildup that occurred previously and as the phrase ‘The foundations of the world are being broken… broken… broken… broken… BROKEN’ grows from a sincere concern to a seeming taunt, the band disappears only to have the chorus inform us, a capella, that Earth is ‘trembling… reeling.’ Whoo. Heavy. As one of the album’s most manic and unpredictably catchy songs, it’s long been a favorite of mine.

As one of the albums prettiest songs, “The Warnings Part III” finds its chorus most closely resembling anything similar to a previous Axelrod string arrangement. There are many wonderful moments where the vocals drop out to reveal a fantastic sparse moment and then come swooping back in with a big blast of melody. But, don’t expect it to sound much like anything previous, because three minutes into the song, Earl Palmer takes a solo and the song goes in a completely different direction based around a bass riff after a fantastic buildup. An a capella ending and then a perfect segue into “The Warnings Part IV.”

With big horn charts that may remind you of an Axe-produced Lou Rawls tune, this song, perhaps more than anything else on the album, becomes the most apparent document of its pretty-ugly/subtle-harsh/quiet-loud dynamics. Things shift, sometimes in a mere few seconds, from shrill atonal blasts to completely subdued comfort. With plenty of time signature changes and arrangement switches to keep it the album’s most diverse piece —perhaps to its own detriment— it packs more into just under three minutes than most songs do in twice the time.

The final phrase, which is repeated to a fadeout, heard at the end of side one is ‘When will you believe my message… message… message… message…?’ At which side two’s opener, “The Signs Part I” finishes the thought immediately after a floating reverbed and stretched out vibes and acoustic guitar intro: ‘…that you are destroying your land?’ About a minute in, atop a spacious horn and vibes arrangement, Don Randi lays down a supreme, bluesy solo on acoustic piano that makes way for the album’s biggest sounding arrangement, a reiteration of the previous vibes and horns riff. It’s slow and epic, threatening to become a harsh dissonance, but falling back in on itself before a wonderful trumpet solo becomes the whipped cream on top. It’s a representative moment for side two of Earth Rot: Where side one showed and proved the unpleasantness that lies deep in these compositions, side two seemingly opens the door and gives the listener a peak into that room, but never allows them to enter. Instead, things are much more restrained here. Consequently, “The Signs” side of the album is decidedly more subdued and melancholy. Maybe a tad bit more listenable, but no less jarring in its exceptional distinctness.

After a big crescendo, "The Signs Part II" is introduced with a famously sampled Don Randi piano intro vamp. And this is where the album turns from melancholy to sometimes just flat out depressing. The choir tells the listener that 'Life is failing... soon there will be nothing that's green... the once plentiful fish are dying... there will be nothing that's clean to drink for those who break the laws of nature...' As the most vocally focused song on the album, the musical backing is little more than accompaniment here and there's really nothing else to do, except marvel at the way Earl Palmer fills the space.

"The Signs Part III" starts off with another one of those gigantic horn vamps that is littered throughout the album. And finally, along with the arrangement's soft sadness, comes the near-acceptance of the planet's demise: 'Is this man who has made the Earth tremble with his great and mighty kingdom?' Top it off with a quote from "Holy Thursday" and another blisteringly brief Ernie Watts solo and you have an absolute killer.

After the horns take a final bow, there's a quick moment of silence before "The Signs Part IV" introduces the album's final act with a soft vibes and acoustic guitar intro which nudges our narrators to confess that 'city life is becoming desperate.' A fantastically dissonant flute and brass vamp sets itself out for observance and it's the last briefly brilliant musical moment on the album that is so short and low-key, you may miss it. It's the last hurrah of many short bursts of true musical magic on an album that is defined by them. The spoken a capella "The Signs" closes out the album on an appropriately weird note that finds the group contrarily repeating the phrase 'It is lovely, it is lovely indeed.'

Released on the first ever Earth Day in 1970 to college bookstores across the nation, Earth Rot's fate was as bleak as the album's message. According to Axe himself, because of the subject of album's narrative, it was marketed specifically to college students. But that otherwise astute marketing plan was met with near-silence at college campuses across the country, as most universities were experiencing student boycotts in response to the infamous student deaths at Kent State University. Because of this unforeseen tragedy, the album sold poorly and, consequently, of all of Axe's Capitol albums, it was the most difficult (and most expensive) to track down until Ascension reissued the album for the first time in 2000. As such, I've never personally seen an original issue of the album and the first time I heard it was when I purchased the Ascension CD reissue in 2000. They really tweaked the artwork around on the CD, taking the now famous back cover painting of the hand in the sky holding the Ajax can over the rotting Earth and making it the front cover. The back artwork was actually the original cover, but Ascension placed the song titles on it:



The official US vinyl reissue from 2001 corrects this and, besides the glossy card stock, recreates the original issue faithfully:


As a cool (however belated) addendum to the album, Capitol issued a 12" single that contained two previously unreleased instrumental versions of "The Signs Part I" and "The Warnings Part III" (mislabeled as "Warning Talk Part Three"). This was released to coincide with Capitol's first domestic reissuing of any of Axe's material, the 2005 compilation set The Edge: David Axelrod at Capitol Records 1968-1970 (which I'll get to in a future review). The b-side of the 12" featured a newly remixed version (that essentially chunked up the drums) of a Letta Mbulu tune that Axe produced, along with its instrumental. Confusingly, the two instrumental Earth Rot tunes were not on the compilation album, but they did provide an excellent insight into the tunes, sans vocals:


When I first heard the album, I considered it a fully impenetrable piece of weirdness that I would never truly understand. And, even at this point, roughly ten years later, I would say that that is still sort of the case. It was the last of Axe's Capitol albums that I heard —and I heard it nearly a year after I had fully digested and appreciated Innocence and Experience— and it didn't really appeal to me. It mostly just confused me. The fact that it is Axe's shortest album (when you just count the music), yet I still have this much to say about it speaks unwritten volumes about how unique the album truly is. I've warmed up to it over the years, yet it still remains nothing more than a pure curiosity and, more than anything else, a tangent or unfinished thought.

The instrumental versions released on the 2005 12" single were somewhat of a letdown, to be completely honest. For years, I had been of the honest opinion that the album was not as good because of the vocals. But when I quickly tore open the shrink wrap and skipped the first track to get to the "new" songs, it was kind of... well, boring. The epic boombast of Axe's music was always provided by the strings. And, the album being recorded without strings, the music was nowhere near as exciting or interesting.

The vocals, being a longtime line in the sand amongst Axe fans, make this album interesting; they make the album what it is. They're kind of like those goofy Tom Scott and Gabor Szabo albums on Impulse that are co-billed to 'The California Dreamers' (except with a bit more of a masculine baritone presence) which were recorded around the same time (perhaps explaining why Carol Kaye is absent?). They're sang in that dated late-60's choral rock/pop style, but without any emotion whatsoever, explaining the cold, spacey quality that, in turn, perhaps explains why the record is so intimidating.

In my initial review of the album, I, articulately and somewhat profoundly (considering my then-rudimentary writing), had this to say: "The music has changed ever so slightly to revolve around a more sparse and ambiently melodic theme. It's not quite as focused on creating a theme and building on it, as it is on short passages of differing melodic walls." Fuck me, I still agree a million percent. That is the most accurate description I can still come up with. And it's representative that it's the best description I could come up with, yet it's still completely vague and generally says nothing all that specific about the actual music.

Again, perhaps if there were something else like it, it'd be easier to assess.

~Austin

Songs of Experience

As the follow-up to a complete and total masterpiece, David Axelrod’s second album followed the first album quickly and with similar themes. Both were inspired by the works of William Blake, both are completely instrumental affairs that showcase a collision of modern classical orchestrations underneath contemporary backbeats inspired by rhythm and blues and rock and roll, which allowed for jazz improvisations to lay atop, all weaving an unprecedented sonic tapestry. Because of that, many people like to consider the albums as two smaller halves of the greater whole.

But I must stop the comparisons.

Sure, it’s easy to see why the albums are compared, but besides the William Blake themes and the approach to the compositions, the two albums are distinct from one another within the very first tracks. Where Song of Innocence started off with the psychedelic confusion of 'Urizen', Songs of Experience introduces itself with the triumphant bounce of 'The Poison Tree.' The first half of the song is a strings and vibes heaven of prettiness until just over a minute in and the entire thing explodes into a fiddle feature. After that short interlude, the song morphs into a slower, more reflective theme that is quite representative of the rest of the album.

Where Song of Innocence was either all out trippy dissonance or sudden, exploding jubilation, Songs of Experience is a much more restrained, introspective labyrinth of sounds that is decidedly more elegantly European in its approach and ultimately, despite countless gorgeous moments, a much darker affair.

To follow the dual-faced opener, the slowly paced and slowly unfolding 'A Little Girl Lost' is one of my favorite songs on the album. Its soft vibraphone and harpsichord iterations that morph into a full string reiteration of the melancholy theme is ear candy of the purest and sweetest type.

Up next is one of Axe’s oft-compiled breakbeat-heavy gems, 'London.' Don Randi and Earl Palmer, with numerous heavy open drum and organ breaks, steal the show. The song itself is pure excitement, never once repeating itself or stopping to take in the scenery. Many tuneful blasts and big crescendos into the tune and it ends in a completely different place than it starts. This song lays the thematic foundation from which Axe would build his next album.

I always used to look forward to being able to flip the record, as my back-to-back favorite songs kick off side two of the album, but I was never in a hurry to get there, because 'The Sick Rose' is one of the album’s highlights as well. Imagine my delight, hearing Songs of Experience on CD for the first time and having this incredibly coherent and strong three song centerpiece smack dab in the middle of the album. Talk about brilliant consistency and having a grasp on album sequencing. More than anything else on this album, 'The Sick Rose,' 'The School Boy' and 'The Human Abstract' form the core of the argument for Experience being the superior work of Axe’s Capitol output.

And looking at how 'The Sick Rose' develops from a sparse, eerie, brass-laced slow burn into a lazy, vibe-heavy, near hallucinatory flow of a song, it makes sense that it sets the table for such a calm and transcendent group of quietly revelatory songs. When 'The Sick Rose' finally fades out amidst a relaxing swirl of strings and an outstanding trumpet solo, it will hardly prepare you for the emotional heights forthcoming.

A turn of the record and you will hear nearly a minute of nothing but a twelve string and an acoustic guitar trading phrases over the top of subtle piano harmony. Of anything here, 'The School Boy' sounds most like it could have been a holdover from Song of Innocence. It plays the same role that 'A Dream' fulfilled on that album, as it is pure sparsely lush meditative consonance that calmly sets the table for the album’s highlight.

'The Human Abstract' is so good, trying to assess it through critical analysis feels utterly pointless. It is all restrained emotion and perfectly captured ambience. Whether it’s Don Randi’s sympathetic piano line, Earl Palmer’s steady but kinetic drumming, Carol Kaye’s enigmatic and challenging electric bass or the simply epic guitar solo, the entire thing is wonderfully and flawlessly played. It is David Axelrod’s finest achievement as a composer and an artist and the best song I’ve ever heard.

If 'The Human Abstract' is a passionately longing piece of romanticism, its successor on the album is a darkly scheming piece of conceptualism. 'The Fly,' while being arguably the album’s catchiest piece, is a bleak strings and harpsichord feature. It feels nearly like a sinister cynic as the follower to 'The Human Abstract.' Twisted and dramatic.

If this album, overall, is darkly romantic, then its closing song is just plain dark and, at times, downright frightening. 'A Divine Image,' full of atonal horn blasts and spooky keyboards, is just about as intimidating as its title's incidence implies. Although it takes him nearly a minute to appear, Earl Palmer dominates the track with a constantly shuffling and evolving 4/4 backbeat that opens up to great sample fame on more than a few occasions. The song seems to represent the dark side of psychedelia and is a magnificent closing tune. It's never been a favorite song of mine, but its placing at the end of the album's sequence is impeccable, and perfectly complimentary.

Although I am no longer in possession of an original vinyl issue of the album, the official vinyl reissue from the early 2000s is, except for the glossy card stock, faithful to the original 1969 gatefold issue on Capitol. I don't think you can read it in these grainy photos (sorry, taking photos at night with little knowledge of digital camera ins and outs), but the album is billed as 'an anthology of awareness after birth' on the inner cover. Hip. Love that Capitol green and purple label as well:


When the album was issued for the first time on CD, again by the Australian label Ascension, they changed the layout of the back of the album artwork, perhaps to be able to list the songs. Consequently, the famous collage of 'David wrapped in paper' photos does not appear anywhere on this issue:


This isn't like their issue of Song of Innocence on CD, where they basically kept the back cover artwork layout the same as the LP:


Perhaps it would be easiest to liken David Axelrod's first two albums to the years in which they were released: 1968 America was still awash in hippie idealism and good vibes leftover from the summer of love, while by 1969, the hangover and the aftermath began to set in. Reality kicked in and, with it, a lot of the idealism took a hike. As if the two were unable to occupy the same space at the same time.

Songs of Experience would be considered David Axelrod's 'weird difficult' album had he not made its follow up. But since he did, it can now be assessed as a transitional album, catching the artist between two distinct and provocative milestones. As such, Experience has a lot to offer fans of both Song of Innocence and Earth Rot, and on most days if you asked an Axelrod fan their favorite album, they'd probably say this one. However, it is too dark, too cynical for its own good. Like the William Blake works that inspired it, it is bittersweet and brutally honest, perhaps to a fault. While not the complete, fully realized apex that Innocence was, it stretches to the limits of David Axelrod exploring his symphonic, neo-classical jazz rock fusion.

When I first heard this album, I didn't like it. I dug 'The School Boy' and 'The Human Abstract,' but the rest of the album's overwhelmingly downtrodden and sluggish mood was not really my cup of tea. 'London' was too impenetrable for me and the rest of the album was either too slow or too sad for my liking. Time has been kinder to the album than my initial thoughts, but ultimately, I do feel like it is kind of a scattered mess. Of course it's top notch material from my favorite musician at arguably his peak, but Innocence had set the bar impossibly high for a follow-up to be able to top it.

Is it a good album? Yes, undoubtedly, without hesitation, it is another stone cold classic from Axe's glory years. Then why the extra criticism? Well, because it is a transitional album and there are little seeds all over the record, looking backwards and previewing what was to come; yet none of these are as good of what they are referencing. These songs seem to imply a hefty and deep unsureness, but are all played pristine, with even the atonal moments feeling completely and exactly calculated. Maybe it was Axe's heavier reliance on vibes to set the mood, maybe it was guitarist Pete Wyant's uncanny sense of dissonance that was missing; who knows. But these songs, at times, feel purposely incomplete.

If he had made another album in this idiom, it would have inevitably failed. Because when something is taken to the extreme it is taken on this album, there is nowhere else to go except backwards.

To truly go forward and make something entirely unique, even from this album, he would abandon just about every distinguishable characteristic that he had established about himself.

~Austin

Song(s) of Innocence

Released in 1968 at the insistence of his colleagues, David Axelrod's first solo album, in retrospect, seems to have been bubbling under, not as a possibility, but as something that would just inevitably happen. Listening to the man talk about the album's inception over thirty years later and you may come to the conclusion that he was unwillingly forced into its creation. But the contents of the album tell a completely different story. Indeed, the music on this album explodes and vibrates with intensity and passion. Upon hearing the album, the listener must assume that its creator labored over it ceaselessly for extended periods of time and squeezed every last emotion he had ever felt into its brief twenty seven minutes.

Not so.

In fact, Axe has famously remarked in recent years that he composed the bulk of the scores and arrangements for this album, for better or for worse (in his opinion), in just about two weeks. Sitting in his work room, surrounded by William Blake's illustrations and reading the Blake poems that made up the greater work Songs of Innocence over and over again, Axe focused hard and made up his own soundtracks for Blake's words.

Originally, it was meant to have harmony vocals in place of where all the strings are now heard. These vocals were to be done by the rock band Hardwater, whose album Axe had produced earlier in the year at Capitol. The band was to recite the poems that inspired the compositions, but, for whatever reason, at the last moment, the album was decided to instead be an instrumental affair. The only holdover from Hardwater was the group's dissonance-obsessed guitar prodigy, Peter Wyant — a fantastic foil to the album's other guitarist, competent but staunchly traditionalist Howard Roberts.

Compiling his favorite musicians —and the cream of the Los Angeles session circuit crop— the album sounds like exactly what it is: a head-on collision of the traditionalist, perfectionist slant from which it was born and the all-out, no-holds-barred attitude of a blossoming genius left to his whims and his whims alone.

There was no set precedent for the music on this album. A singular work of classical dynamics, cozying up to rock and roll rhythms and jazz improvisation, all filtered through the bigger-than-life scope of late-60's American idealism. To say that this music is potentially life-changing is probably true, but to assume that that achievement was among its creator's concerns is probably inaccurate. There is a certain ease to this music. The huge symphonic blasts mixing up with impressionistic, longing melodies may border on over the top for some, but there is never a moment when it doesn't sound completely and fully genuine.

When David Axelrod wrote this music, he meant every single note of it.

From the album's opening 'Urizen,' you know something is up. A very dissonantly modern string section is the first thing you hear, in ascending register. It just goes up and up until reaching the point of shrill, when the tension breaks into what is probably the most traditionally 'rock and roll' sounding rhythm on any Axe record. Pete Wyant wails away, finding these incredible harmony lines that seem to only exist when he plays them, and the song doesn't make any tangible sense until over two minutes in when the famously sampled drum (Earl Palmer) and electric bass (Carol Kaye) breakdown comes in and the song defines itself in clear terms. For years I, frankly, didn't like the song. It was too dissonant and not defined clearly enough. But, to me, that is a defining aspect of the song's enduring modern slant. It is dense and melodically complicated. The only consonant aspects of it lie in the progressions — the current chord not making complete sense until the next one is played. What a start.

From there, the album moves into the signature Axe tune: 'Holy Thursday.' A buoyant and ebullient tune, it isn't my favorite Axe song, not now or ever, but it is certainly one of his strongest. Allmusic.com claims it's based on a riff from a Count Basie tune, but I'm not so sure about that, as it must be a Basie tune I'm unfamiliar with. In any case, it's gorgeous. Gentle and restrained one moment and big and boombastic the next. 'Is that trembling cry a song? Can it be a song of joy?' wrote William Blake in his original poem. And that reflects in the tune because it is rather jubilant until the last portion, when the key changes, along with the entire song's emotion. A perfect reflection of Blake's original work; a bittersweet celebration of life itself. And one of Axe's most recognized breaks opens the tune as well.

'The Smile' is next and it is a perfectly complimentary piece to Blake's poem as well. A duality nature lies in the tune's minor-to-major changes and repetitive mood, just as Blake says smiles convey in real life. For a long time, the tune was my favorite piece on the album, because of the glorious ending. The vampy repetition builds and repeats faster and faster until it finally explodes into a new theme entirely, all within the final minute. Equal parts beauty and deceit, the song then implodes on itself for a brief, but foreshadowing, exit with a quiet, melancholy solo piano fadeout.

Only to be followed by 'A Dream' and the album's title track; arguably the two prettiest pieces Axe ever did. Neither one has a moment of dissonance or ill will. 'A Dream' is a short meditative tone poem, with a pretty little harpsichord line, perhaps upping the album's psychedelics factor a bit. The lush (even for this album) string accompaniment falls in and, despite being the album's shortest piece, it is arguably its most satisfying.

Following a flip of the vinyl, the title track is just absolute magnificence. It is one of the single most fully realized and beautiful pieces of music ever recorded. It never loses its intrigue, its magic or its wonderfullness. It is absolutely blissed out sonic perfection. Point blank, hands down, end of discussion.

'Merlin's Prophecy', with its cymbal heavy 4/4 swing time signature, is the jazziest thing to be found here. Although it becomes something entirely different with the addition of a heavy Hammond B-3 treament. I've long considered it kind of like intermission after the fantastically towering highlight that precedes it and the heavy epilogue that follows it, combined with the deceptively simple riff that dominates it.

Only Axe would close such a gorgeous and profound album with something that starts off as ugly as 'The Mental Traveler' does. It is probably one of the heaviest things he's done, what with the two and half minute Pete Wyant showcase that opens the tune. Probably Wyant's finest recorded moment, he belts out a solo that simply reiterates the tune's head, but, always the fan of dissonance, hits these completely out of place notes that signal to the listener that this tune, indeed, is not what it seems. For the briefest of moments, smack dab in the middle, there is nothing but silence and then Carol Kaye comes back to set the table for Earl Palmer to unleash one of the most underrated Axelrod breakbeats. After marinating in some dizzying chords, Kaye falls back into the groove just in time for the strings and horns to introduce an entirely new theme that is altogether more compelling and just downright sad. The bands lays out and the strings once again ascend into the shrillest of high registers and, just as it began, the whole thing is over. Twisted that, he began and ended with arguably the loudest and most dissonant songs he ever did.

For fun, here are the differing issues of the album....

The original 1968 issue on Capitol. Notice how it's billed as 'Song' of Innocence on both cover and label; and also how Axe's middle initial is credited as part of his name on the label, but not the cover. Gotta love that classic Capitol rainbow label:


Strangely, the album was reissued by Capitol in 1972. The cover and label are different, but the music is the same. I guess the album was doing well when it was first issued in 1968, but the promotions department was told to lay off, because Capitol wanted Axe to be a producer and A&R man as his priority, not a recording artist. Maybe when he finally left the label in 1972, they reissued it as a sort of 'goodbye and thank you' for all the money he made the label over the years. Also, notice how, on this cover the album is billed as 'Songs' of Innocence, back to the singular 'Song' of Innocence on the label. Again, his middle initial is included on the label (classic Capitol orange and black by this point), but not the cover. Also, the photos were then recent. Axe had aged quite a bit in the four years since the album's initial release:


First non-Capitol reissue on the Australian label Ascension, from 2000. They removed the Capitol logos from the original cover and changed the record label entirely:


The original Ascension issue on CD, first ever issue of the album digitally, also from 2000:


I haven't purchased EMI UK's vinyl and CD reissues of the album from 2001, but I've heard that, besides the cover art being exact replications of the original Capitol issues, the mastering is exactly the same as the Ascension versions (which is excellent).

Years have been kind to the album. At the time, it was labeled 'jazz fusion' a year before Miles got there. It received a lot of attention from mind expansion seeking twenty-somethings and gained clout in the 80's from psych collectors. In the 90's, it was sampled by hip hop heads looking for pristine drums and deep emotions. When it was finally reissued for the first time in 2000, it sold more copies then any previous issue ever had. Today, the production may date it, but the actual content still sounds on the cusp of something yet to be discovered.

It is my single favorite album of all time.

After nearly ten years of it being a part of my life, I've yet to hear anything that surpasses it, not to mention, equals it.

An absolute monument in modern music.

~Austin

Yet another change. Great.

Yeah, I just don't know what I want to do, honestly.

I love and listen to a lot of new things constantly. But, I find that I really don't have much else to say about it besides 'I like this' or 'I don't like this.'

Not that the music is shallow and lacking in substance — on the contrary.

For example, I can go on at great lengths about that new Appleseed Cast album, Sagarmatha. I think it's absolutely incredible and have listened to it pretty much daily since it came out (on my birthday — what a present!) and the music has opened up to me in several different ways and revealed many perspectives and layers. It's a deep, thought-provoking album that is also just great music. There are so many things that can be assessed and dissected about it and talked about indefinitely.

But, when it comes down to it, it's just a fantastic new album by one of my favorite bands. I feel like anything more posted on a blog like this is just asking any potential readers to just leave right now. So, why babble?

So, basically, I've decided all I really want to go on at great lengths about on a regular basis is the music of the man whose music has spoken to and touched like no one else's has for the better part of my existence on this planet.

I'm talking about David Axelrod.

I've been listening to his records and records with his name on them for most of my life and have never grown tired of any of it. I still like to talk about all of it. A lot.

So, I have decided I am going to be making this blog mostly about Axelrod and his body of work. I will start the revamp off with an in-depth look at his solo material. Then I will move on to affiliations and thoughts about specific things that relate to him.

Expect an in-depth Song Of Innocence write-up in the next few days.

In the meantime, check out my recently revamped Axelrod post I put up earlier this year from January's archive.

The archives will stay here. And if something unrelated to Axe moves me enough to share some thoughts, I certainly will.

Stay tuned. It's about to get interesting. I promise.

~Austin

David Axelrod

David Axelrod is my favorite music maker. Ever. Many try to, and a few actually come quite close, but nobody will ever be as great as he is in my mind. As such, one of the first pages I added to my website in the fall of 1999 was a page about Axe. Although the page changed as I completed my collection, filled in the holes and constantly reassessed the music, it always remained the top link on my home page. There is nothing else like most of this music; and the stuff that is similar is just copying, so it'll never be as good. Anyway, here's the contents of the page when it was last updated 18 May, 2007...

A revamp correcting typos and inaccuracies and adding extra bits took place on 26 April 2009...

David Axelrod (1936- ) was the protege of Gerald Wiggins and a small time west coast jazz producer in the 50's (his most notable production of the time being Harold Land's break out album The Fox). His producing talents grabbed the attention of Capitol Records in the early 60's and he was hired as an in house producer. He started to produce records and make hits for Julian "Cannonball" Adderley and Lou Rawls, amongst many others. Because of his knack for making hits with these artists, Capitol gave him the opportunity in 1968 to record his own material. He then started recording a string of over a dozen albums that defied categorization and broke ground like it was common place. This page has been put up to help shed some more light onto this hip whiteboy's incredible body of work. For audio samples, you can visit The David Axelrod Information Society. Please enjoy what I've put here, and remember, this is just what I think about what I hear when the needle hits the wax.

Axelrod Solo Albums:



Song Of Innocence (Capitol, 1968)

The album that started it all. It defines the term "forgotten classic." Axe combines just about any form of music and style of playing and uses it a little bit throughout the record. I never tire of listening to it. And, in fact, I'd say it's probably my personal favorite album that I've ever heard. It's simply beautiful for all of its twenty eight minutes. Nothing at the time sounded like it and nothing to this day matches it, outside of the Axelrod library.

Songs Of Experience (Capitol, 1969)

Creeping out into the world of weirdness a little bit further on this one. It's Axe's crowning achievement as far as utilizing studio technology to the fullest of its capabilities. The record sounds incredible, even today. There are a couple songs that outdo just about anything I can think of right now (namely, "The Human Abstract"). And, because of those songs, this album cannot be written off as Innocence, Part Two. Both this, and Innocence, are based on the poetry of William Blake (Willie got some heat). Axe has explained that these songs are his "soundtracks" to Blake's poetry. A lot of folks recognize this as his finest piece of work but as much as I dig it, I have to disagree.

Earthrot (Capitol, 1970)

The apex of of Axe's weirdness. Axe ditched the Blake-isms to preach about the environment, and saving the Earth and such. How about that; not only was his music ahead of his time but also his politics (saving the Earth didn't become cool until a few years later). The music has changed ever so slightly to revolve around a more sparse and ambiently melodic theme. It's not quite as focused on creating a theme and building on it as it is on short passages of differing melodic walls. The first Axelrod album to have vocals and it's usually a split right down the center on the verdict of them. They are done in this high pitched shrill monotone style and some folks think they bring out the melody even more so in the backing music while others just find them obnoxious. I really don't have a problem with them myself, but at the same time I could enjoy the record just as much without them. The only track that's fully instrumental, "The Warnings Part I," is worth listening to the record by itself, however, and one listen to the track will give you a great idea of what the entire record sounds like. A one of kind piece, for sure.
Update: When Capitol released the 2005 compilation (see below), they released a 12" single that featured a few exclusive new mixes of some Axe tracks. Two of those tracks were instrumental versions of two Earth Rot tunes. At the time I wrote this review, I thought the vocals didn't really help nor hinder the music, but after hearing 'The Sign Part One' and 'The Warnings Part Three' sans vocals for a few years, I have to say, the tracks are still great, but nowhere near as interesting. So, maybe this album is better because of the vocals.

David Axelrod's Rock Interpretation Of Handel's Messiah (RCA, 1971)

Not really what I'd think of as "rock" music, but hey, whatever's clever. This album is, if you couldn't tell from the title, Axe's own version of Handel's greatest piece, the Messiah. The music is a bit lighter and it relies more on organ and electric piano than before. Cannonball Adderley conducted it and he even makes a cameo appearance on the last tune. The main attraction here is the album opener, "Overture." It's a six minute long instrumental that gets pretty messy towards the end with lots of rhodes piano action. A very interesting piece of work, even if it is slightly predictable at times. Overall, I'd say it's one of those albums that I often underestimate until I actually take it off the shelf and listen to it again and find out it's an awesome record all over again. And you know it's good when an agnostic dude can get down with totally religious-themed music.

The Auction (Decca, 1972)

Using the poetry of Paul Dunbar, Axe recorded this album to reflect a soundtrack for the slave trade. Deep stuff. But what's new? There are vocals once again, which had become a common occurrence on Axe albums by this time. Cannonball takes on the narrators duties, but doesn't do any playing. The music is quite blues influenced, which works well with the theme. The string accompaniments are all but gone, but you hardly notice because the music is done so well. It's the first album where Axe started to get down and dirty about his funk. It was hinted at on all his prior albums, but this album just slaps you in the face with it. You don't see me complaining though. The songs mainly revolve around rhodes piano and guitar melodies, but Ernie Watts does a nice job on tenor sax handling all of the album's solos. Again, another great record. Even though his two previous albums were maybe slight missteps, this one just reaffirms that he was nice, no matter what style he's attempting.

Heavy Axe (Fantasy, 1974)

The first Axe album that contained covers of pop songs. Yes, even Carly Simon's "You're So Vain." I think he fell victim to the mid-70's cheese jazz/funk bug on this one because I really don't like this record nearly as much as his others. There are a couple good songs (a cover of Cannonball's "Get Up Off Your Knees" complete with cameo by Cannonball, and a cover of his own song "Holy Thursday" renamed "Everything Counts") but overall, it's too overproduced and slick sounding for my tastes. It's good for what it is, but I've often said that the reason I don't like this album is because Axe is following instead of leading. I would scoop this one up if you're curious though, because it's kind of strange to hear a Carly Simon cover and something like "Everything Counts" on the same record.

Seriously Deep (Polydor, 1975)

This is where things change for good. Gone are the big symphonic walls of sound and present are the big fat eight minute funk vamps. He hinted at it on his previous album and failed, but this time, he laid off the cover songs and slickness and made arguably his best piece of work since his Capitol days seven years earlier. This is interesting because it finds Cannonball producing Axe's work, instead of the other way around. Synthesizers are used to success throughout the album. It has a strange simplistic dark overtone to it the whole time that makes the album quite mysterious and even more interesting. There are countless open breakbeats and downright incredible moments all the way through which makes the album highly desired. I'm pretty surprised this hasn't been reissued, or bootlegged at least. Either way, this album is great and easily his best venture into the funk/rock world.
Update: Dusty Groove America reissued this for the first time ever in 2008. As if they weren't cool enough already...

Strange Ladies (MCA, 1977)

This album continues the trend that Seriously Deep started, but lays off the trippy-ness and concentrates on the groove. It's one of Axe's most desired among collectors. And rightfully so, it's a wonderful piece of work. The better songs are the ones where the tempo is slowed down and the mood is kept on a somber note. The dark, upright bass driven groove of "Sandy" is quite pleasing while "Terri's Tune" contains a nice funk backbeat with lots of lush string arrangements and will make any fan of his Captiol work happy. But, it seems as if Axe's career had flip flopped by this point. On his Capitol albums, he was creating these lush walls of sound while keeping the funk low key. Unlike now where he was saturating every release in a healthy dose of funk and using the symphonic melodies sparingly. Even though I prefer the former, this album is wanted by collectors for a reason. That reason being the quality is so high on the scale.

Marchin' (MCA, 1980)

The last album Axe would release for the thirteen years that would follow. And he went out on an interesting note. The compositions are there, but Axe had catered to the production sounds of the day and the album loses some of it's flare because of that. But like I said, there are definitely some songs that are certified Axe bangers, regardless of production mishaps. There's even a couple open breakbeats that would compete with any of his previous work. One of his catchiest songs ever is included with "Jahil." It just jams from beginning to end. If your toes ain't tappin' by at least the two minute mark, check your pulse. Also included are some mellower numbers like "Wandering Star" and a tribute to Cannonball, "Threnody For A Brother." It's a bit harder to find than most of his other albums from this time (I've personally never seen a non-promotional copy), but it's definitely worth tracking down.

Requiem: The Holocaust (Liberty, 1993)

Being Jewish himself, it was inevitable that Axe would record at least one song with the Holocaust as his muse. In this case, he decided to make an album of the affair and the result is... different. Easily his darkest album, it mainly revolves around classical ideals with subtle usages of jazz and blues. The majority of the album is very atonal and dissonant, employing those monotone vocals that were also used on Earth Rot. This is definitely not the most happy piece of work Axe has done. But, with any artist in history, he evolved and grew. He doesn't even use drums on this record, whereas drums were the thing you first noticed on the majority of his 70's work. I guess Liberty let this go out print not long after its release because they received some criticism over the cover artwork. It's definitely a challenging listen, even to the most veteran ears. Easily attained through eBay or Half.com, I'd recommend it if you're a completist. It was reissued by EMI UK in 2002.

The Big Country (unreleased by Liberty in 1995)

Unreleased for retail, you can get a promo copy if you keep an eye on eBay. It's Axe's personal renditions of popular country songs. Except, without anything to do with country music. Most of the album sounds much like Requiem, but nowhere near as dissonant. On the numbers where Axe returns to his roots is where the album succeeds. He employees a drum kit again for some of the album and makes some very off-kilter, and at times just plain strange, renditions of country tunes. On one version of "Help Me Make It Through The Night" it sounds almost like a gospel affair. The drums are nice and loud when they are used and Axe even lets them open up and breathe a little on a few occasions, which is always welcome. Overall, quite an intriguing listen. But again, only track it down if you're a completist. EMI UK also issued this officially in 2002.

David Axelrod (Mo' Wax, 2001)

The stuff my nerdy dreams are made of. The story of how this album came to be is nothing short of remarkable. After Axe received a career revival of sorts in the late 90's from everybody sampling his stuff, somebody whom he had worked with at Capitol sent him some unfinished recordings on acetate and a close friend, upon hearing them, convinced Axe to finish the songs and record a "new" album. The acetate tracks consisted of Axe's now classic core section of musicians he employed religiously in his Capitol days: Earl Palmer (RIP) on drums, Carol Kaye on electric bass, and the now deceased Howard Roberts on electric guitar. Of the nine tracks on the album, seven were old tracks taken from the acetate and two were brand new. The two new tracks were the only ones to feature vocals. One, titled "The Little Children," featured west coast rapper Ras Kass spitting his prophetic fire over a purposely chaotic string arrangement. The other, titled "Loved Boy," featured an emotionally stirring appearance from Axe's old collaborator Lou Rawls on a dedication to Axe's deceased son. Both songs sound much like Axe's post-Marchin' work. As for the "new old songs", they sound much like you hoped they would. Very reminiscent of the glory days at Capitol. Although that much of something so good can be overwhelming for an overly analytical dork such as myself, "The Shadow Knows" strikes me as one of Axe's finest moments in his entire career. Overall, the album is a huge success and easily one of Axe's top five (or maybe even top three) albums of his entire career. Also of note is the cool ass liner notes written by DJ Shadow and on the CD version of the album, there's an excellent enhanced CD portion complete with a 10 minute mini-movie about the making of the album. Released on James Lavelle's Mo' Wax label, it's still in print for now and very highly recommended.

Live at Royal Festival Hall (David Axelrod Music, 2006)

Recorded in 2004 in the aftermath of the European success of his Mo' Wax album, but not released until a few years later. If that album was the stuff my nerdy dreams were made of, this album is the stuff my worryingly obsessive dreams are made of. I mean, in all honest seriousness, I have a hard time making it through this album without getting choked up and having tears dripping down my cheeks. Laugh at me all you want, but damn, is this redemption or what? Recorded at London's Royal Festival Hall with a full orchestra and a sold out crowd, it's just a testament to the amazing timelessness and overall quality of this music that the majority of it could be conceived in the late 60's, be revived over thirty years later, those new recordings sit in the oven for a few years, and it still sounds as fresh as ever. The setlist here focuses on Axe's Capitol period, which is, simultaneously, a literal dream come true (for me) and somewhat disappointing. Here's both sides: 1) the dream come true: Imagine me as a wide-eyed eighteen year old recent high school graduate working a job as a shipping clerk in a DJ sound equipment store, swearing off weed and booze, yet trying to be in a turntablist group and growing more and more fascinated with breaks and jazz. I opened boxes containing Technics 1200's while blaring Earth Rot and Axe production mix tapes on the boom box in the receiving room. So, yeah. Live hip hop was disappointing at the time, to say the least. So, all I could do was sit back and imagine how amazing it would be to see something like "The Smile" or "Holy Are You" live. So, to actually have an actual document of (what I think are) the only live performances of those songs is absolutely incredible. Life changing. 2) the disappointment: There is nothing here past 1969. Can you imagine how great stuff like "Terri's Tune" or the Messiah overture would've sounded here? Granted, I generally agree that the period documented here is Axe's most consistent, but man, what a missed opportunity. But, there is an upside: the three unheard songs. Well, ok, only one of them is actually new. However, the two covers (The Stones' "Paint it Black" and the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood", retitled here "Spanish Wood") are so different from their original arrangements, they are, more or less, new songs. Slightly discernible melodies pop up here and there, but they are so distorted, you probably wouldn't have known they were covers if the track list didn't indicate it. The third song, a little vamp titled "So Low", is a revelation. It's Requiem meets Songs of Experience and it's stunning. The performance is flawless. Littered with numerous open drum breaks and unexpected chord shifts, it could easily be mistaken for an actual outtake from the Capitol days. And the thing that really stands out here, and the thing that puts these songs into an entirely new context, is the bass player. On all those old Capitol recordings, it's Carol Kaye on electric bass. However, in this live setting, it's professional Brit musician Ali Friend on acoustic bass. Gives all these otherwise familiar tunes a serious revamp. I mean, c'mon, those open breaks on "Holy Thursday" and "Urizen just sound even juicier now, don't they? The addition of the Verve's lead singer Richard Ashcroft on "Holy Are You" is another revelation in itself; a revision through a pompous British dude was all it needed, perhaps? "The Human Abstract" pops up, and that's where the tears start swelling. If the self titled record was great initially, but perhaps a little bit of a letdown in the long run, consider this one of —if not the single— best albums released in my lifetime. Packaged in a DVD/CD combo (the CD excludes "London" on account of length issues), it's simply a devastating shame it's not more widely available.

Axelrod Compiled...

Since the re-emergence of the Axe man in the late 90's, a lot of compiling has been done. Although I recommend skipping these kinds of albums altogether, especially with an artist as diverse as Axelrod. If you are just curious about him, I suppose starting with one of these albums would be wise.

Fantasy issued The Axelrod Chronicles in 2000 and it compiles the entirety of the Heavy Axe full length with a few selected cuts from albums Axe worked on while at Fantasy. It's hard to understand the selections because they are often not representative of the albums they came from, not to mention that they are far from being album highlights (save for Nat Adderley's "Quit It" and the two Gene Ammons tracks). It is however, the only place you can get anything other than the Mo'Wax record domestically and it's remastered and affordably priced.
Update: Whoops, since Fantasy was sold off to the Concord group, this has gone bye-bye.

EMI UK's two anthologies are filled with great selections from the Capitol days (except for a few newer tracks on volume two). Volume one features more Axelrod solo stuff, where volume two has more production rarities. The first volume was my first taste of his work and it served me well, but ultimately wasn't anything more than an appetizer while I tracked down the proper albums. Now that EMI UK has also issued the Capitol albums in their entirety, these seem a little redundant unless you absolutely can't find the productions and collaborative works anywhere else.

Domestically, it took Capitol over five years to realize what they were sitting on and they finally issued The Edge in 2005, which is basically a one disc synopsis of the two UK anthologies. It leaves out a few things, but if you just want one cost effective disc that covers most of the essentials, this would probably be the way to go. The remastering job was handled by Blue Note's in-house audiophile Michael Cuscuna so the remastering is great. Capitol still hasn't given Axe's solo albums a US CD reissue, so if you want that stuff on CD, you'll have to: A) go to EMI UK's reissues B) hit iTunes, as all three Capitol albums are available there or C) make due with this piecemeal.

EMI UK took the first step in reissuing Axe's entire catalogue with the two disc The Edge of Music in 2006. It's the only place to find official CD issues of tracks from his post-Capitol, non-Fantasy work, but at the same time, it feels rather redundant, rehashing the same tracks from the Capitol days yet again and only offering one or two tracks a piece from later albums.

EMI UK took another huge step in 2007 when they issued The Warner/Reprise Sessions. A two disc anthology spotlighting one very well-known period and one very much forgotten period in Axe's career. The well-known stuff is the two Electric Prunes albums that Axe worked on: Mass in F Minor (1967) and Release of an Oath (1968). Mass in F Minor is much more garage-y, much more vintage Prunes. Which makes sense, because the Prunes actually played on it. Release of an Oath, on the other hand, is a completely different story. Most of the band quit during the recording of the album, so Axe hired on his Capitol studio musicians to finish the record (the liner notes do a good job of going into detail about this). And it really shows. It's now pretty much considered Axe's first proper album by hardcore fans and it's absolutely essential listening to fully understand Axe's early music. The really great thing about this collection is that it fully reissues and remasters the album that Axe recorded in 1970, under the guise of Pride. Nooney Ricketts (of Love) sings the vocals (which were written by Axe's son) and the album takes on a strange Latin/folk/rock hybrid sound. There are no strings to be found and the only electric instrument is the bass. A strange album that has unfortunately eluded many fans for years because of the exceeding rarity of the original. It benefits greatly from the remastering job and is just great to have readily available. It's personally one of my favorite things from the Axelrod discography. Disc two of the collection presents both of the Electric Prunes albums in fully instrumental form, and in the case of two-thirds of Release of an Oath, it repeats the instrumental songs again with the drums chunked up and the strings mixed out. Overall, this is an extremely valuable addition to any Axe fan's collection. Well done.

So there you have it. A little slice of some of the music that makes me cry.

~Austin