A to Z
MARC ALMOND
Enchanted (reissue, 1990) CHERRY RED
6/10
Ambitious 1990 album expanded
Still riding high after a No 1 single with Gene Pitney, Almond obviously had big plans for this sixth studio album. Alas, his desire to draw on world-music flavours and up the orchestral ante clashed with producer Bob Kraushaar’s insistence on sticking close to the pop sound still dominating the charts at the time. Listening now, the songwriting is still robust on the ebullient, insistent “Death’s Diary”, the grandiose “Madame De La Luna” and the hypnotic “The Sea Still Sings” – they also sound better on the lo-fi accompaniment attempted on the demo versions included here. Elsewhere, though, the europop bobble cramps Almond’s sweeping romantic style. A stirring exception is the Stephen Hague-produced symphonic pop journey of “A Lover Spurned”, achieving a much more majestic synthetic-organic blend.
Extras: 6/10. B-sides, flabby 12” remixes, but some superior demo takes hint at what might have been. JOHNNY SHARP
WILL BEELEY
1970 Sessions TOMPKINS SQUARE
8/10
Another dozen never-heards that should have landed front and centre
A south Texas answer to the northside’s eclectic, imperial songwriters such as Steve Young and Townes Van Zandt, Will Beeley barely registered during his prime. But with this unreleased second album, 1970 Sessions, he can be discovered anew. Sharp, tricky melodies, surfacing from deep down in the rural midst, meet with sparse yet expressive guitar rhythms and leads. Meanwhile, Beeley’s voice and lyrics target life at all angles: “Passing Dream” is the centrepiece, examining hopes and wishes in the ether. “What Is The Color Of The Soul Of A Man”, Beeley’s take on racist America, deserves to be heard. And while every song here finds its niche, the bluesy “Pitch Black Sky” and the poetic “Tall Wind” – worthy of exceptional cover attempts from, let’s say, Waylon Jennings – are pure marvels.
Extras: None. LUKE TORN
LAURA NYRO
American Dreamer MADFISH MUSIC
10/10
New boxset invites listeners new and old to give an all-time great the attention she deserves. By Laura Barton
OVER the years, Laura Nyro has not been short of admirers. There was David Geffen, of course, who managed her. And Clive Davis, who signed her. Peter, Paul and Mary, Barbra Streisand, and Three Dog Night, who covered her songs. And Bette Midler, who inducted Nyro into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame by noting how “she could make a trip to the grocery store seem like a night at the opera”. But perhaps the definitive compliment came from Alice Cooper, who once described the experience of listening to Nyro’s second album, Eli And The Thirteenth Confession, with awe-struck simplicity: “You sit there and go, ‘That’s songwriting.’”
Nyro was indeed a consummate songwriter. Her extraordinary melding of pop and R&B and jazz and avant-garde piano compositions suggesting a wellspring of musical talent, and a degree of finesse that seemed somehow at odds with her beginnings: the self-taught daughter of a piano-tuner from the Bronx who grew up singing on street corners and subways stations.
Despite her fervent supporters, these days Nyro rarely receives the immediate deference she deserves. Instead, her name bubbles up occasionally – the subject of
