For
an album made mainly because Sam Wilson did not want to leave the
handful of songs he had ready in the dust, Green
Gates is
an astonishing accomplishment. Normally plucking guitar for
Charlottesville's up and coming Sons of Bill, Peyton Tochterman's
High Society and the back-in-the-game (and about time) Shannon
Worrell, he sidesteps into a world inhabited by bandmates Brian
Chenault, Wells Hanley, Brian Caputo and Darrell Muller to unload
eleven outstanding originals worthy of two of the best of the 'lost'
late sixties and early seventies bands, unusual in their composition
and produced to perfection. The bands of which I speak are Byzantium,
a UK group who produced a stunning album picked up by Warner Brothers
Records in the States and quickly buried by the apathy of radio (The
second LP was released on A&M in the UK and was not picked up in
the States, possibly due to the round of silence surrounding the WB
album), and Chicago's much respected Illinois Speed Press. Despite
the lack of success of both bands (Illinois Speed Press did sell, but
not in the numbers Columbia Records had hoped), they were on the
whole critically well received and worthy of a much better fate, but
such is the music biz, and today the LPs command a hefty price at
auction. Those bands also produced musicians of note, by the way,
Byzantium's Chaz Jankel releasing a fairly successful album for A&M
a few years later, and ISP's Kal David and Paul Cotton having
extended careers, David with The Fabulous Rhinestones and others,
Cotton with Poco and then solo.
Fortunately
and unfortunately, the ghost of Illinois Speed Press appears only on
the title track, “Green
Gates,”
but what a ghost it is, and totally unintentional, according to
Wilson. He swears he has never heard ISP, but you cannot mistake the
dueling lead guitars of Wilson and Brian Chenault a la David and
Cotton on ISP's “P.N.S.
(When You Come Around)”
off
of ISP's first album. The light and floating riffs of one are superb
contrast to the brassy and more forceful riffs of the other--- pure
guitar magic. Make no mistake, though. “Green
Gates”
stands
on its own and the guitars just make it that much better.
The
other ten tracks live in that netherworld which makes Wilson's
musical vision so fascinating, the voices instruments in an ensemble
of keyboards and guitars bowing to production. Wilson could have
easily forced the issue, layering tracks into oblivion, but he
somehow found a true balance between tape loops, synthesizers, reverb
and tremolo and came out of the tunnel with dreamlike scenarios which
effortlessly carry you away. In the seventies, we usually waited
until late evening or very early morning to put Byzantium on the
turntable, when we were more receptive to the whole other side of the
music--- the subconscious, if you will. Wilson and crew have
musically recreated the era without even realizing it, I am sure,
even the rockers having that smooth progressive psych edge to them,
almost Moody Blues-like, but better.
No
doubt, a major label or two will perk their ears up at this. I
fervently hope that Sam Wilson turns a deaf ear for awhile, at least,
because throwing money at music many times destroys it and Green
Gates
is the start of what could easily be an outstanding beginning to a
major, major musical career.
Albums
like this are the real treasures in today's world of music. Each
hearing produces not only highs but surprises, for there are gems
hidden beneath the glimmering surface which take effort to uncover.
It is adventure and any time you put music and adventure together,
you have a winner. Miss this at your peril.
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog
and the prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Say site
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
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