Jon Pousette-Dart--- Talk

I remember Pousette-Dart. I remember the Pousette-Dart Band, in fact, and the reaction their first album received on the West Coast, mainly as the band which opened for Peter Frampton on the Frampton Comes Alive tour--- when was that? 1976? They were also known for their mime-themed album jacket, universally panned by mime-haters worldwide, which at the time stopped more than one of my friends from even considering either album or band--- not a death knell in itself, but one wonders how universal was the attitude. And to open for Frampton, who just months before was virtually unknown in the States in spite of, how many, four solo albums? Whose followers from his days with Humble Pie deserted him en masse because of what they considered his descent into pap hell? Who, months before the live album was even released, became a god to millions who would not touch his previous four studio albums while begging with tears in their eyes for the new one? God knows what it must have been like going onstage before thousands of such people, but it had to be daunting.

Truth be told, I liked that first album in spite of the cover (yes, I too am a mime-hater) but the West Coast did not. In spite of a modicum of airplay, usually coinciding with said tour, they made a very small splash in the ponds of Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Seattle, though they would do much better with the second album, thanks to airplay for Amnesia and County Line, the band's only real charters on radio. Still, they were East Coast, and in those days there was that schism.

I had not thought about them in years--- in fact, until this new album, Talk, dropped in my hands. Immediately, that first album jacket passed before my eyes and with slight shudder, I put it reluctantly into the CD player only to find that I liked this album. Liked it a lot, in fact. There is a very seventies feel to it, in fact--- a leaning toward the soulful. Jon Pousette-Dart still has a voice and uses it to full effect, helped along by an outstanding group of session men and three wonderful female vocalists with whom to duel--- Bekka Bramlett, Rhonda Vincent, and Jonnell Mosser--- voices which fit his like a glove.

All of the references I have found relating to Pousette-Dart mention soft rock and I guess that fits this album too, but there is more here than that. There is that soulfulness I mentioned and a slew of solid songs, many co-written by songwriters of stature. There is a feel which flows beginning to end which ties the songs together. And there is a sound--- a very pleasant sound--- thanks partially to Bil VornDick, a producer I know from his work on The Dixie Bee-Liners exceptional Ripe and Susanville albums (each was among the top picks the year of release). What did I say above? That I liked it? I do.

Pousette-Dart revisits the aforementioned Amnesia and County Line on this album and I have to admit that it is good hearing them again. Dinosaurs like myself might remember hearing them on the radio back when radio mattered. I miss those days. If this world of music was not in such chaos, this album would have a good chance. It may have, anyway. It is good enough, that's for sure. And it deserves a chance.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website 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.)

Zombie Garden Club--- Zombie Garden Club

Holy shit! Zombie Garden Club? I don't know what I was expecting but this is way beyond what the name leads me to believe. This is crunch. This is part Legendary Shack Shakers and early Them without the harmonica and part sixties garage--- the part featuring a driving beat and cheesy Farfisa organ. But mostly what this is is heavily-reverbed vocal laid over some of the best guttural guitar I have heard in some time. Too Slim pulls it off when he wants to, prodding The Tail Draggers God knows where with that almost evil guitar sound. Th' Legendary Shack Shakers nailed it when David Lee was twangin' the strings around, say, Pandelirium time. Joe Bonamassa and Stevie Ray Vaughan occasionally strayed into the mania and I am sure there were others. But when I put this puppy into the player and heard a riff straight out of The Music Machine's Talk Talk on Track One (Call It Love), all comparisons vanished.

Here's the thing. I could compare every song on this album to something, if I really wanted to. The tunes are so good and so well put together, I just don't want to. I just want to listen. Even to the two oddballs on this rockin' album--- Diamond Daze, a track as much jazz-based as it is rock, and Calling Andromeda, straight out of the Mike & The Mechanics or Barclay James Harvest playbooks.

I have three pages of scribbled notes which sounded like something when I wrote them but now seem disjointed and vague. Call It Love--- Music Machine Talk Talk riff beneath sixties Brit Rock vocals. Judgement Blues--- Brash, bluesy guttural guitar with Swamp Rock vocals, a more controlled Legendary Shack Shakers. One Step, Two Steps, Three Steps Gone--- Sixties-sounding rocker complete with very prominent Farfisa organ. Fuzzface--- Groove heavy with fuzzed-out overamped guitar. They give you an idea, but I swear you have to hear this to get it.

I know this is a band, but not on the record. One Johnny Douglas put this together all by his lonesome but it sure as hell sounds like a band. The drive is there. The riffs are there. The sound is there. And more importantly (well, equally as important), the songs are there. Douglas has a touch when it comes to capturing the various areas of influence and it makes me laugh, he's so good at it. I love stuff like this.

Every track a gem, too. Fourteen songs, all dipped in roots--- my roots, evidently, because I have not been able to set this aside since receiving it. I feel like saying, though I am too close to the music to know if it would ring true or not, that this is one of the best garage roots albums I have ever heard, Makes me want to dance.

And already in the running for my pick for Top Album of the Year.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website 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.)