James Gang - Rides Again

When you think about it, the James Gang was pretty much doomed from the beginning. They came of age when a pair of other power trios—the Jimi Hendrix Experience and Cream—had already run their course and who’d featured a pair of undeniable guitar legends. So what was the James Gang thinking releasing Yer Album, a debut record of unfocused jams, not-quite-ready originals, and a bunch of covers heavy on noodling and light on inspiration?

Keep in mind, this was an era when anything was possible. For crying out loud, a band as creatively limited as Iron Butterfly came across a nifty riff, repeated the damn thing for over a quarter of an hour, and suddenly became the biggest selling thing on Atlantic Records. So I’m sure that a few label execs at ABC records green-lighted Yer Album because they didn’t have a clue as to what may stick and what would fall.

Thankfully, the band reconvened for album number two with producer Bill Szymczyk and, essentially, reinterpreted Yer Album with all the best parts kept in and all the freshman aloofness. I don’t know if he was totally responsible for the structure that surrounds Rides Again (he also produced the debut) but I do know that he cut some of the song lengths in half and added a bunch of arrangements that would totally fool the average listener into thinking the band was nothing more than three regular dudes from Ohio: Joe Walsh on vocals and guitar, bassist Dale Peters, and Jim Fox on drums.

“Take A Look Around,” Walsh’s composition from the first album turns into a pot grower’s anthem “Tend My Garden” for the second. “Funk #48″ retains the same beat on Rides Again‘s “Funk #49,” but Walsh trims a second off the riff and it makes all the difference in its potency.

Side one mirror’s Yer Album lumbering rust-belt stomp, but it does it with the utmost efficiency. There’s a lifetime of riffs to practice and the tone of Walsh’s Gibson is something to envy. You may have heard the opener “Funk #49″ on classic rock stations and perhaps side one’s closer “The Bomber,” but to bookend the two in their proper place on side one is one hell of a first half.

Side 2 is all Walsh, who’s shown noticeable improvement as a lyricist in the year since the James Gang’s debut. They keep the second half a relatively acoustic affair, effortlessly going between elements of American folk, country-rock, and ending the side with the beautiful English folk tinge of “Ashes, The Rain And I.”

For all of the potential of trying to add too many musical elements and too much opportunity for self-absorbed performances, Szymczyk leaves everything at a concise half-hour total. Rides Again lends itself as an album that’s perfect for repeated listens while being just out of classic rock notoriety that it’s shamefully overlooked in many best-of lists that focus on that decade’s most worthy inductees. I’m on my third version of this album and set for a fourth: a definitive remastered edition that corrects some of MCA’s unconscionable editions over the past twenty years.

Walsh lasted for one more studio album and a worthwhile live effort, In Concert, that captured the line-up before Joe went on to a more successful solo career and in a retirement-building stint with the Eagles. None of his subsequent work came close to what he was able to achieve and the same is true of Fox and Peters, both of whom attempted to continue on with the James Gang moniker even after Walsh departed for a solo career.

At its core, Rides Again is a mulligan, a do-over, coming off the heels of a debut where neither artist or producer really had their shit in order to pull off a worthy release. Not only does Rides Again correct the errors of the first, it goes further. In fact, it exceeds beyond what the band probably should have been able to do in the first place. Rides Again is a testament to getting back in the saddle and seeing how far you can go with what should have been a one trick pony.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

James Gang - Thirds

My old man had this on 8-track.

It was me that played the piss out of it until the tape broke.

No more James Gang Thirds until my mother in law bought it for me as a Christmas gift last year.

What can I say? I’m blessed.

The third and final studio album featuring Joe Walsh on vocals finds Cleveland, Ohio’s favorite sons bashing out the same groove-laden rock music as the previous two. And even if the band only managed the greatness of the opener “Walk Away,” then they still would be remembered fondly in the annals of rock’s greatest tunes.

It takes a left turn with the next track-“Yadig?”-an instrumental that still keeps a slow, jazzy groove complete with vibes and a Hammond B-3 organ before Walsh steps in with a tasty lead from his Les Paul.

You get the sense that the band is starting to peter out a bit with the inclusion of songs written by the other band members that weren’t named “Joe.” Bassist Dale Peters and drummer Jim Fox ain’t slouches with Peters whipping out some amazing bass work for Fox’s “Things I Could Be” and Jimmy returning the favor with a tack piano on Dale’s country-flavored “Dreamin’ In The Country.”

Side two starts with some swell Walsh guitar tones on “Midnight Man,” but it, like the rest of the side, begins showings some chinks in the James Gang armor-the result of constant touring as the band’s liner notes suggest.

James Gang would end their Walsh years with a more appropriate live record, one that more effectively captures the band’s epic grove and huge crunch than Thirds ends up providing.

The only other complaint is that they misspelled Evel Knievel’s name in the thank you section, which is-in reality-a laugh riot as it heaps nods to such people as Joe Garagiola, Monte Hall, and someone named “Emil Nitrate.”

This and “Walk Away” may be worth the price of admission alone.

Say It Ain't So! Joe Walsh Turns 60

I’m done keeping track of rockers that have now surpassed the 60 year mark and, to be honest, rockers that continue to rock past the age of 65 creep me out a little. Then I remember that old timers like John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters were singing about poontang well into their golden years, so I guess it’s cool if Mick Jagger wants to do the same.
Joe Walsh turns 60 today which doesn’t quite place him in the creepy category but it is hard for me to consider since the first image I ever had of Joe Walsh was the long, greasy haired kid sitting on a motorcycle in the black and white photo of the James Gang on their Rides Again album.
And the album secured his position as acknowledged badass in my mind.
That is, until I saw another black and white photo of Mr. Walsh. This one was the washed and styled coif that he wore sitting cross-legged with the rest of the Eagles on the gatefold shot in The Long Run.
From then on, I was through with Joe Walsh, even when a few friends got worked up for his The Confessor album.
“Fuck Joe Walsh.” I thought. “He was in the Eagles.”
But Goddamnit: Rides Again, In Concert, and bits of Yer Album and Thirds are stunning enough for you to get pissed that he could walk away (pun intended) from a band as awesome as the James Gang.
I vaguely remember The Smoker You Get and Barnstormer solo albums (for some reason, my old man was a fan, but then again, he thinks The Eagles are the shit) as being fairly good but it’s been years, scratch that, decades since I’ve heard either one of those albums.
But it’s only been a few weeks since I listened to Rides Again and it’s something that you should listen to today.
If you don’t, you’re liable to remember Joe Walsh as the cokehead/drunkard guitarist from that mellow rock outfit that sells their shit at Wal-Mart.
Say it ain’t so, Joe.
Say it ain’t so.
Anyway, here’s an awesome clip of Joe and the rest of the boys from Cleveland doing “Walk Away.”
I so wanted House of Large Sizes to cover this song during their heyday.

Deep Tracks From Dad's Record Collection

You know, for a dude that’s created enough inner drama than I care to admit, I’m still taken with the fact that the old man’s been influential on a number of levels, music included. Looking back on it now, there are a few albums (or 8 tracks, in many cases) that stand out as well as those that don’t.
The following albums are some curios found in my Father’s record collection that, for whatever reason, stand out.
Even stranger, I’ve sought out a few of these items before suddenly returning to my senses and realizing that Father figure nostalgia doesn’t necessarily translate into quality records.

• Miles Davis-At Fillmore: Live at the Fillmore East
  Dad was never a real jazz fanatic, so what this was doing in his collection is beyond me. This record single-handedly turned me off of Miles Davis for over 15 years. At Fillmore contains Bitches Brew-era Miles in a live setting, yet completely skull fucks the notion of a live album by manipulating the recordings and splicing segments together with no sense of continuity. So what you get is freak outs in progress suddenly edited at the most incoherent moment. And the freak outs? There’s no better word to describe them and there’s no way a child with a developing sense of music could comprehend. At the same time, there’s a good possibility that most adults wouldn’t be able to comprehend this. Typically, I could only set through this thing a few minutes at the time (it was on 8-track) which is more than I can say for my father. I never saw/heard him play this title once. I don’t fault him for it, either.



• John Mayall-U.S.A. Union
  When my Father talked about music, it sometimes involved Eric Clapton, or specifically, how great Eric Clapton was/is. He thought Cream’s Disraeli Gears was one of the best albums ever made. He felt that Clapton’s solo on Cream’s “Crossroads” was one of the best in rock history. He explained that John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers with Eric Clapton was the greatest blues/rock albums ever made and contained some of Clapton’s most spirited performances. I agree with that last statement, actually, but I’m not sure about John Mayall’s place in history, other than being a lucky son-of-a-bitch that had the good fortune of having one of rock’s most gifted guitar players appear on one, count ‘em, one of his albums. A while a lot of other very talented musicians have also worked with Mayall throughout the years, U.S.A. Union found Mayall working with a group of U.S. musicians he hadn’t previously worked with. The results were mixed; Mayall doesn’t have the strongest voice to begin with and his lyrics are weak at times. On the other side, this is a fairly nice, laid-back blues album (he neglected to secure a drummer) with lots of clean guitar, violin, and some excellent harmonica work from Mayall. Enough for me to seek out? Perhaps, but it’s nothing that I need to own to make my life complete.



• West Bruce & Laing-Whatever Turns You On
  What happens when you add two people from Mountain (Leslie West and Corky Laing) with one dude from Cream (Jack Bruce)? A supergroup with a lower case “s.” This album featured some hideously bad cartoon cover art, which is probably the reason why it remains out of print today. However, I vaguely recall this album being a pretty good effort and I’m fairly sure that it would hold up today.



• James Gang-Live In Concert
  In my mind, the James Gang should be about a hundred times more respected than they are. Their Rides Again album ranks as one of the best albums ever made. I think the band also thought the album would do better than it did, because the following album, Thirds, is pretty shoddy in spots and sounds like a band that had run out of creative juice. Walsh went solo before landing a fairly good paying gig with the Eagles, and the James Gang’s record company decided to give fans a taste of what this power trio sounded like in, of all places, Carnegie Hall. Walsh plays like he’s on fire and after listening to it, you’re left wondering why he isn’t acknowledged more as one of the greatest rock guitarists around. The answer probably lies in the litany of half-assed solo efforts he released in the 80’s and in his half-assed work ethic in general. Nonetheless, for those of us who know about the power of the James Gang, you tend to forgive Walsh’s alcoholic complacencies. There’s nothing complacent about Live In Concert; I played Dad’s 8-track until it broke and I’m debating on getting it again.
  
  Dad had a lot of the usual suspects in his collection too: Fleetwood Mac Rumors, Steve Miller Band Fly Like An Eagle, Linda Ronstadt Living In The U.S.A., etc. But the albums mentioned here represent some left-of-center titles that stand out in my mind several decades after they were last listened to. If you were to ask my old man if he even remembers these albums, I’m sure the answer would be “No.” Which makes it fairly cool (for me, anyway) to see how he spent his money on music. There are some patterns with the choices, particularly with the West Bruce Laing/John Mayall connection to Eric Clapton, and then there are some crazy things popping up out of left field (Miles Davis stands out).
  Crazier still: I remember them. And while I can’t vouch for their quality or even recommend them to you, I can still list ‘em as memories because there were many times in which the turntable ended up being more of a Father figure anyway.