Weekender
Thursday, April 10, 1980
In 'Glass Houses'
Billy Joel tampers with success successfully
P&Q8 6
By DAVID POOLE
Billy Joel
Class Houses
he only major criticism directed
toward Billy Joel in recent years has
come from reviewers who called his 52nd
Street a ' clone of The Stranger. The
cardinal sin, say those who get paid to
compare the relative merits of rock 'n' roll
musicians, is allowing a new album to
sound a lot like the previous one.
Joel's newest album, Glass Houses,
should get these critics off his back. Glass
Houses is different from his last two LPs. I n
fact, most of the materials different from
anything the street-smart New Yorker has
ever released.
Don't listen to this album if you're one
who feels that an artist shouldn't tamper
with success. The soulful ballads on which
Joel's strong and faithful following is built
take a back seat here to some
experimentation.
The results are, generally, quite good.
The album is not without weak spots, but
for the most part Billy Joel's journey into
the fringes of New Wave and other areas
of music is a pleasant one for the listener.
Records
I n one way, the first side of the record is
a lot like the successful Joel LPs of the past.
There isn't a really bad song on it. The first
single from the album, "You May Be
Right," is an upbeat song which tells the
listener right away that Joel has heard
drone-like vocals prevalent in NewWave
music and has decided to try them for
himself. "Sometimes a Fantasy" is similar,
with Joel's lead vocal sounding much
more like Elvis Costello than the "piano
man."
The theme song of the album has to be
"It's Still Rock and Roll to Me."This lyric is
Joel's statement on the pratice of
categorizing music: "Hot funk, cool
punk, even if it's old junk...Next phase,
new wave, dance craze anywaysIt's still
rock and roll to me."
The other two songs on Side 1 are more
in the old Billy Joel style. "Don't Ask Me
Why," a flowing, soft-hearted ballad,
would be at home on any Joel album. The
best song on the side is the last one, "All
For Leyna," an uptempo number that
successfully mixes the styles and forms
Joel explores on this album.
The best song on Side 2 is "Close to the
Borderline." Joel's vocal is different here
from the one his fans know, but the bite
with which he sings the song is neccessary
if the listener is to believe the lyrics: "I got
remote control and a color T.V.I don't
change the channels so they must change
meI got real close friends that will get me
highThey don't know how to talk and
they ain't gonna tryI shouldn't bitch, I
shouldn't cryI'd start a revolution but I
don't have timeI don't know why I'm still
a nice guyBut I'm getting close to ..he
borderline."
Three of the other four cuts on Side 2
are mediocre and the fourth is only
noteworthy because Joel sounds very
much like Paul McCartney with his vocals
on "Through the Long Night."
Joel is one of the few artists who have
managed to attain both widespread
critical acclaim and strong nationwide
record sales. It is still in to like Billy Joel,
even though his last two albums have won
Grammy Awards. Such awards usually
cause critics to accuse an artist of putting
popular acceptance ahead of artistic
principle.
People who don't listen to Billy Joel
much and who like the directions in
which popular music seems to be going
today will like this album. Many hard-core
New Wave fans will count this as a
conversion and they too will like it.
I'm a Billy Joel fan, and the first time I
listened to Glass Houses I found myself
asking why he had to ruin a perfectly
successful career. But the album grows on
you and once you listen closely, the
difference between Glass Houses and
other Joel LPs is not large enough to
overshadow the good points. 0
David Poole is assistant sports editor for
The Daily Tar Heel.
Bruford misses on third effort
By JOE VANDERFORD
Bill Bruford
Gradually Going Tornado
In the short history of jazz-rock fusion, most of
these performers have crossed over from jazz. Few
rock 'n' rollers felt confident playing music where every
lick must be executed, precisely, often at breathtaking
speed. For those who dared (Santana, David Sancious,
Jeff Beck, et a), record sales often proved disappointing
when compared to prior success playing exclusively rock.
Records
But there is one exception, Bill Bruford. Bruford, who is
perhaps Britain's most respected rock drummer, is a man
who dares to play with a jazz sensibility and emerges
smiling. His first two solo recordings are more rock than
jazz and have more n common with his former groups,
Yes and King Crimson, than with jazz musicians Miles
Davis or Herbie Hancock. Downbeat, America's jazz
journal, has praised his initial efforts. At long last, an
adventurous rock 'n' roller playing and writing some
original tunes.
Unfortunately, Brufofd's brand-new effort finds him
less daring, seemingly satisfied to rework territory he's
already mastered. The album, Gradually Going Tornado,
contains winds that blow with authority, but in which no
direction is sure. J
In Tornado, Bruford calls upon two friends from earlier
albums. British keyboardist Dave Stewart (ex-National
Health) plays with tasty reserve on piano or synthesizer.
Bassist Jeff Berlin is almost without peer on electric
fretless bass. His lines are meaty, often bent and twisted,
sounding ever so similar to the bass of Weather Report's
Jaco Pastorius. But his technique is not stolen, Berlin
having discovered his style in Boston while Jaco was in
Florida.
Regrettably, Bruford, Stewart and Berlin are
handicapped by convoluted compositions and
arrangements that leave no room for stretching out. All
of the tunes are painstakingly arranged to the point
where the listener can hear these three able players
being strangled. Solo space is kept at a premium where
statements by each player end before they actually begin.
Drummer Bruford writes six of the album's eight
compositions. Both the instrumentals and vocal tunes
were scripted carefully and demonstrate how difficult it
must be for a percussionist to write such complex little
suites (Bruford uses the piano to write, and must slowly
consider each note.) The entire album is over-written
and over-rehearsed. With all their technical polish, even
the solos sound composed, not improvised.
However, the album is not without its bright moments.
Bassist Berlin debuts as a vocalist, and on two songs
appears completely self-assured. "Sliding Floor"
concerns a lady who visits her lover late at night, and
chooses only to philosophize. Berlin's voice slides
effortlessly into the upper register owing much to former
Cream vocalist (and bassist) Jack Bruce. An all-out rocker
in odd meter, "Sliding Floor" features phase-shifting
synthesizer breaks by Dave Stewart, and the angular
guitar of John Clark (the group's newcomer).
"Plans for J.D.," another short rave-up, casts Berlin in a
woman's role, singing of lost love. Bruford scores
successfully as a lyricist (how many times do men write
from a woman's point of view?), relating how a man
forsakes a woman for career. Again, John Clark soars,
picking short phrases that snap and pop against Berlin's
throbbing bass blur.
Even with intermittent successes, the album leaves the
listener wanting more, especially from Bruford the
player. Bill's drumming was a major factor in the early
'success of Yes, a rock band priding itself on technical
precision, and he anchored the group with constant
references to the offbeat and concentrated attention to
detail. After leaving Yes at the height of its commercial
success (this may say something about his priorities),
Bruford joined King Crimson, guitarist Robert Fripp's
dreamnightmare. There, the drummer would learn the
beauty of experimentation and of playing feelings.
Bruford expanded his drum set to include bells, gongs,
and a wider variety of cymbals. Throughout the
sometimes harsh, always expanding repertoire of King
Crimson, he gained a reputation for playing the
unexpected. He is always recognizable, which is one of
the highest compliments one might pay to a
percussionist.
In Gradually Going Tornado, Bruford employs a no
frills rock-'n'-roll attack, abandoning the tasteful little
embellishments that have always characterized his
playing. Although' disappointing to those who listen
closely for Bruf ord's subtle time tricks, one can't help but
admire a drummer who has enough humility to refuse
even a drum solo on his own album. But this LP needed
some extra ingredient, something to raise it from the
muck of other fusion releases that flood the market.
This and other recent fusion efforts (by Steve Khan, Pat
Metheny, Gato Barbieri, et al) may signal that most jazz
rockers have run out of things to say. Let's hope not.
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BUI Bruford
Proud veterans like Weather Report and fresh
newcomers like guitarist Michael Gregory Jackson
continue to be original. At its best, fusion combines the
raw excitement of rock 'n' roll with the subtle beauty of
jazz. Live performances by many of these artists remain
loose and lively affairs with extended solos that leave
audiences breathless.
If bands like Bruford's can transfer this inspired energy
to disc, the future of electricf usion may be bright. But it's
time for these musicians to stop and reflect. They must
decide whether to rest upon past performance,
duplicating it with minor alterations, or to gamble and
treat each new project as something completely
different. Until Gradually Going Tornado, Bruford
preferred the latter approach, playing with musicians as
.diverse as Kenny Wheeler, Roy Harper, and Rick
Wakeman.
Bill Bruford does not risk alienating his past audience;
it is too devoted to forget his finest moments with Yes,
King Crimson, U.K. and now as a solo artist. By shifting his
musical environment, he will gain new listeners and
inspire more young players. 6J
Joe Vanderford is a record critic for The DDy Tar HeL