On any list of underrated soul singers, Al Wilson has to rank near the top. Wilson, who died this past Monday of kidney failure at the age of 68, had one big hit in 1974 with “Show and Tell,” a peerless piece of smooth early ’70s soul that reached number one on the Billboard pop charts, in turn defining his career and suggesting that he was a one-hit wonder even though he followed it with a few hits over the next few years (”I Won’t Last a Day Without You/Let Me Be the One” in 1975, “I’ve Got a Feeling [We’ll Be Seeing Each Other Again]” in 1976). Like many seeming one-hit wonders, there was a lot more to Wilson than that one hit, and he never, ever stopped working — playing clubs and touring well beneath the radar of the mainstream, occasionally re-recording his hits (as he did on 2001’s Spice of Life), because that’s what you do when you’re a working musician. It’s unfortunate that all this hard work didn’t pay off in some kind of full-scale revival prior to his death, something like Arthur Alexander received before his death in 1993, since Wilson’s rich, nuanced singing — akin to a grittier Lou Rawls — deserved wider acclaim. What’s doubly sad is that there is a new CD out that showcases precisely why he’s worthy of such celebration. Kent, a division of the UK-based Ace Records, has just released Searching for the Dolphins, the first reissue of Al Wilson’s earliest recordings, containing all of his 1968 debut for Soul City records, Searching for the Dolphins, along with a bunch of singles he had for that label, Bell, and Carousel in the early ’70s.
“Show and Tell” is not on this disc — for that and his other ’70s singles, turn to Fuel 2000’s 2004 set Show & Telll: The Best of Al Wilson — but its absence is in a way a blessing, as it forces focus on Wilson’s depth as a singer and how these recordings are quite unlike a lot of soul of the time. Part of the reason for that is the presence of Johnny Rivers, the LA blue-eyed soul singer who signed Wilson to his own Soul City imprint and produced Searching for the Dolphins, encouraging Wilson to pursue a lush sound that encompassed mellow Californian pop, folk, jazz, rock & roll, and soul, something that was sonically closer to what Rivers was cutting at the time, but hardly a pop sellout. After all, one of the highlights here is Wilson’s first single (and only UK hit), a hip, swinging version of Oscar Brown Jr.’s “The Snake,” a groovy dance number that deservedly became a Northern Soul staple; it’s not the only funky moment here, as it has a rival in a version of Holland/Dozier/Holland’s “Shake Me Wake Me (When It’s Over).” Also on this album is a slow-burning, late-night reading of Jerry Butler/William Butler/Curtis Mayfield’s “I Stand Accused” and the terrific “Who Could Be Lovin’ You (Other Than Me),” an early Willie Hutch song that strikes a precise balance between the aforementioned funky moments and the luxurious singer/songwriter material that comprises the rest of the record. The title song is an allusion to the Fred Neil ’60s standard “The Dolphins” and Wilson also sings two Jimmy Webb songs (”By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” “Do What You Gotta Do”) and a pair of Johnny Rivers hits (”Summer Rain,” “Poor Side of Town”), all of which have a smooth, rolling feel as reminiscent of folk-pop as it is as soul. All taken together, Searching for the Dolphins is a unique record, a place where many divergent strands in ’60s pop converge in a way that is perhaps easier to appreciate now than it is then.
As good as this album proper is, the Kent/Ace CD gets really interesting on the bonus tracks, almost all of which are considerably less soft than the LP itself. Sometimes this does mean harder, funkier sides, as on a pair of Willie Hutch tunes from 1967, “When You Love (You’re Loved Too)” and “Now I Know What Love Is.” (Hutch also is responsible for folkier, poppier “Getting’ Ready for Tomorrow, a ‘68 single with nearly baroque harpsichords that’s closer in feel to Searching for the Dolphins than anything else here.) Sometimes, this hardness means that Wilson dips into down-n-dirty rock & roll, as on a phenomenal version of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Lodi” from 1969 that has a thicker groove than CCR’s original, filled with greasy slide guitars and horns. This isn’t the only time Wilson rocks it hard: he bizarrely replicates Dave Edmunds’ version of “I Hear You Knockin’,” right down to the phased vocals, slide guitars, piano punctuations, and exultations of ’50s rockers in the solo section (funnily enough, he leaves out Smiley Lewis, who had the original hit with this), and even more bizarrely, it works, as Wilson invests this blatant steal with down-home soul A better example of his daring is “Sugar Cane Girl,” a Daniel Cohen song that rocks as hard as CCR, while being funkier. It’s a hell of a song and a lost gem, but it’s also clear why this and “Lodi” didn’t click at the time — they’re fully rock and fully soul, so they didn’t fit comfortably in either format. More of their time was the dirty fuzz funk of “Falling in Love with You” and “Bachelor Man,” a quite wonderful evocation of swinging singledom in the early ’70s thanks to its cascade of strings and harpsichords, all adding up to a loungey vibe scaled toward television. These didn’t sell either, but hearing them next to the driving rock & roll, the jazzy northern soul, the deep soul, and the sun-bleached folk-pop found elsewhere on this disc, it becomes clear that Al Wilson was capable of singing anything; he just didn’t catch the right breaks that would bring him to the top with these singles. Once he did, just a couple years later, he didn’t stay at the top long enough to truly show his versatility. Still, anybody that has now heard of Al Wilson due to his passing should seek this set out, as it proves that he was a superb soul singer who cut music worthy of his talents. The rest of the world is still getting around to realizing just how good this guy was.
Satyagraha at the Met
Philip Glass’ Satyagraha is nearly thirty years old, and it’s proving to be one of his most durable creations. Metropolitan Opera director Peter Gelb calls it Glass’ greatest opera, a masterpiece, and based on the impact it makes in the Met’s vibrant new production, co-produced with the English National Opera, it’s hard to disagree. Satyagraha is a Sanskrit word meaning “truth force,” or “strength through truth,” which Gandhi coined while living in South Africa between 1893 and 1914, working for equality for the country’s Indian population. The philosophy of non-violent resistance that Gandhi and his followers practiced became the model for many of the most successful liberation movements of the twentieth century. The opera focuses on six pivotal events in Gandhi’s life during that period, preceded by a scene from Hindu mythology. The scenes are not arranged chronologically, and the opera’s Sanskrit text, taken from the Bhagavad Gita by Constance de Jong, consists of philosophical reflections rather than dialogue, so the opera obviously doesn’t conform to conventional narrative structure. Each carefully constructed scene makes sense as a dramatic unit, though, and the effect of the whole is powerful.In this production, director Phelim McDermott and associate director and designer Julian Crouch tweak or forego some of Glass’ original stage directions, and the success of their alternate vision is a testimony to the opera’s durability — this is a work that can stand up to a variety of interpretations. Most significantly, they’ve ignored Glass’ original conceit that the events of the opera transpire in a single day, from dawn until night. This production begins in darkness and ends with a bright blue sky. It’s a political statement and an optimistic assessment of the world, given the fact that Gandhi’s vision of peace is so far from being realized, but it’s all the more poignant because it points to the fact that his message is no less needed today than it was a century ago.
The stage design is very much integrated with the opera’s concern for the liberation of the poor. The primary materials of the set are corrugated iron and newspaper. Instead of using flashy stage effects, the directors have many of the opera’s most memorable moments created by Skills Ensemble, a troupe of actors, puppeteers and acrobats who use newspaper, straw baskets and clear tape to construct settings as well as gigantic animals and human figures.
Each of the three acts is presided over by a figure who inspired or was inspired by Gandhi’s philosophy — Tolstoy in the first act, Rabindranath Tagore in the second, and Martin Luther King, Jr. in the third. For most of the opera, the back of the stage is lined with panels of corrugated iron, creating an atmosphere of poverty and virtual imprisonment, in which Gandhi and his followers work out their strategies of liberation. In the final act, we see prophetic images of the American civil rights movement, with police in riot gear savagely beating peaceful protesters, and Gandhi’s followers being arrested and led away. The iron panels drift away, revealing an expansive bank of roiling gray clouds. Gandhi remains onstage in front of a huge pillar at the top of which King, his back to the audience, is preaching to unseen crowds. Accompanied by some of Glass’ most serene and ethereal music, Gandhi goes up to the pillar and touches it, as if in benediction. The sky turns to brilliant blue and the clouds begin to dissipate — it’s a genuinely breathtaking moment. It’s spoiled a little when an image of Gandhi’s followers is projected onto the sky, presumably listening to King, (a detail that actually is in the libretto), but mercifully it doesn’t last long. In spite of that misstep, the final moments of the opera are a satisfying resolution of the struggles that preceded them.
The most frequent complaint about Glass’ music is that it’s too repetitive, and on a superficial level it can sound like the same thing over and over. On closer listening, though, Glass is in fact continually shifting the details of orchestration, meter, and dynamics so that the music is in a constant state of flux, giving it a larger architectural complexity. When allied with the apparent sameness of the surface, this complexity creates a synthesis of principles analogous to satyagraha’s combination of the principles of truth and strength. This deep structural connection between Glass’ music and the opera’s theme makes the subject the perfect vehicle for the composer’s aesthetic vision, and is one of the elements that gives the opera its emotional impact and sense of integrity.
One of the wonders of Glass’ score is the degree of expressiveness he’s able to evoke through the use of repeated patterns and very simple gestures. The twenty-minute opening scene is accompanied entirely by the repetitions of a four-chord progression, but the emotional range of the scene is huge, from the quiet serenity that opens and closes it to the furious raging of battling armies at its climax. Another example of the expressive depth of Glass’ apparent simplicity is Kasturbai’s solo at the beginning of the third act. It consists of exactly two pitches, a whole step apart, but in the composer’s rhythmically shifting text setting and poignant harmonies, it sounds like a soaring aria. Glass may be working within the restraints of a narrowed set of musical parameters and an unconventional narrative structure, but with Satyagraha, he has created an opera with the breadth of feeling, dramatic power, and emotional resonance to merit a place in the standard repertoire.
The difficulty of its music is a serious obstacle to it ever becoming a repertory work, however. Satyagraha is Glass’ first “real” opera, coming after Einstein on the Beach, which he had written for his own devoted (and small) ensemble of new music specialists, and the demands on the orchestra and chorus are staggering. It’s not a question of technical difficulty, because in small increments, the music isn’t generally hard, but it requires an almost superhuman level of sustained concentration that most orchestras and choruses aren’t used to. It’s the rhythmic element that’s the killer — its constantly changing meters of nearly-but-not-quite identical patterns are fiendishly difficult to keep track of. For the chorus, which has an unusually large role in this opera, there’s the added element of having it memorized, as well singing in a difficult language that has no relationship to any European language. Much credit goes to Chorus Master Donald Palumbo for his thorough preparation; the chorus sang with crispness and intensity, and with careful attention to details of dynamics. At the April 14 performance, in the first scene of the second act, the men’s treacherous laughing chorus threatened to teeter out of control, but a few brave souls hung tight and soon everyone was back on course. Dante Anzolini, making his Met debut in this production, led the orchestra of strings and winds in a luminous performance; he was absolutely clear in his beat, but he also had the flexibility to let the music breathe. His tempos in the slow sections tended to be especially broad, all to good effect. The last act, particularly, in which all the stage action is enacted in slow motion, benefited from his expansive approach; there were transcendent stretches where time felt suspended.
Except for the role of Gandhi, this is not a showpiece opera for singers, so it was not a star packed production. Tenor Richard Croft was a fully persuasive as Gandhi; he could both command attention with the kind of charisma Gandhi was known for, and blend seamlessly into the crowd of workers. He sang with admirable purity and intensity, and with a burnished warmth that made the character appealing. Other standouts included baritone Earle Patriarco as an especially resonant and stalwart Mr. Kallenbach, and soprano Rachel Durkin as Miss Schlesen. The last act duet with mezzo Maria Zifchak as Kasturbai, Gandhi’s wife, and soprano Ellie Dehn as Mrs. Naidoo, was radiant, one of the highlights of the evening.
Even if you’re not in New York, there’s a chance to hear a performance. Satyagraha will be aired on the Met’s Saturday broadcast this week at 1:30.
The stage design is very much integrated with the opera’s concern for the liberation of the poor. The primary materials of the set are corrugated iron and newspaper. Instead of using flashy stage effects, the directors have many of the opera’s most memorable moments created by Skills Ensemble, a troupe of actors, puppeteers and acrobats who use newspaper, straw baskets and clear tape to construct settings as well as gigantic animals and human figures.
Each of the three acts is presided over by a figure who inspired or was inspired by Gandhi’s philosophy — Tolstoy in the first act, Rabindranath Tagore in the second, and Martin Luther King, Jr. in the third. For most of the opera, the back of the stage is lined with panels of corrugated iron, creating an atmosphere of poverty and virtual imprisonment, in which Gandhi and his followers work out their strategies of liberation. In the final act, we see prophetic images of the American civil rights movement, with police in riot gear savagely beating peaceful protesters, and Gandhi’s followers being arrested and led away. The iron panels drift away, revealing an expansive bank of roiling gray clouds. Gandhi remains onstage in front of a huge pillar at the top of which King, his back to the audience, is preaching to unseen crowds. Accompanied by some of Glass’ most serene and ethereal music, Gandhi goes up to the pillar and touches it, as if in benediction. The sky turns to brilliant blue and the clouds begin to dissipate — it’s a genuinely breathtaking moment. It’s spoiled a little when an image of Gandhi’s followers is projected onto the sky, presumably listening to King, (a detail that actually is in the libretto), but mercifully it doesn’t last long. In spite of that misstep, the final moments of the opera are a satisfying resolution of the struggles that preceded them.
The most frequent complaint about Glass’ music is that it’s too repetitive, and on a superficial level it can sound like the same thing over and over. On closer listening, though, Glass is in fact continually shifting the details of orchestration, meter, and dynamics so that the music is in a constant state of flux, giving it a larger architectural complexity. When allied with the apparent sameness of the surface, this complexity creates a synthesis of principles analogous to satyagraha’s combination of the principles of truth and strength. This deep structural connection between Glass’ music and the opera’s theme makes the subject the perfect vehicle for the composer’s aesthetic vision, and is one of the elements that gives the opera its emotional impact and sense of integrity.
One of the wonders of Glass’ score is the degree of expressiveness he’s able to evoke through the use of repeated patterns and very simple gestures. The twenty-minute opening scene is accompanied entirely by the repetitions of a four-chord progression, but the emotional range of the scene is huge, from the quiet serenity that opens and closes it to the furious raging of battling armies at its climax. Another example of the expressive depth of Glass’ apparent simplicity is Kasturbai’s solo at the beginning of the third act. It consists of exactly two pitches, a whole step apart, but in the composer’s rhythmically shifting text setting and poignant harmonies, it sounds like a soaring aria. Glass may be working within the restraints of a narrowed set of musical parameters and an unconventional narrative structure, but with Satyagraha, he has created an opera with the breadth of feeling, dramatic power, and emotional resonance to merit a place in the standard repertoire.
The difficulty of its music is a serious obstacle to it ever becoming a repertory work, however. Satyagraha is Glass’ first “real” opera, coming after Einstein on the Beach, which he had written for his own devoted (and small) ensemble of new music specialists, and the demands on the orchestra and chorus are staggering. It’s not a question of technical difficulty, because in small increments, the music isn’t generally hard, but it requires an almost superhuman level of sustained concentration that most orchestras and choruses aren’t used to. It’s the rhythmic element that’s the killer — its constantly changing meters of nearly-but-not-quite identical patterns are fiendishly difficult to keep track of. For the chorus, which has an unusually large role in this opera, there’s the added element of having it memorized, as well singing in a difficult language that has no relationship to any European language. Much credit goes to Chorus Master Donald Palumbo for his thorough preparation; the chorus sang with crispness and intensity, and with careful attention to details of dynamics. At the April 14 performance, in the first scene of the second act, the men’s treacherous laughing chorus threatened to teeter out of control, but a few brave souls hung tight and soon everyone was back on course. Dante Anzolini, making his Met debut in this production, led the orchestra of strings and winds in a luminous performance; he was absolutely clear in his beat, but he also had the flexibility to let the music breathe. His tempos in the slow sections tended to be especially broad, all to good effect. The last act, particularly, in which all the stage action is enacted in slow motion, benefited from his expansive approach; there were transcendent stretches where time felt suspended.
Except for the role of Gandhi, this is not a showpiece opera for singers, so it was not a star packed production. Tenor Richard Croft was a fully persuasive as Gandhi; he could both command attention with the kind of charisma Gandhi was known for, and blend seamlessly into the crowd of workers. He sang with admirable purity and intensity, and with a burnished warmth that made the character appealing. Other standouts included baritone Earle Patriarco as an especially resonant and stalwart Mr. Kallenbach, and soprano Rachel Durkin as Miss Schlesen. The last act duet with mezzo Maria Zifchak as Kasturbai, Gandhi’s wife, and soprano Ellie Dehn as Mrs. Naidoo, was radiant, one of the highlights of the evening.
Even if you’re not in New York, there’s a chance to hear a performance. Satyagraha will be aired on the Met’s Saturday broadcast this week at 1:30.
Distributing music independently online
"What is a viable business model for distributing music independently via the Internet?"
Klaus HeymannChairman, Naxos Group of Companies
Independent labels have several options when it comes to distributing their recordings online.
Regardless of what option they choose, a label should create its own digital files (WAV files that can be converted into other formats) and its own meta data -- it's not rocket science and a label knows its own content better than any third party.
Nowadays, it is very important to coordinate digital and physical marketing and advertising. Therefore, if a label has good physical distribution internationally, it should first try to work through its own network of distributors, provided they have the necessary experience and the right connections with their national digital service providers.
National distributors can create meta data in their local language, which is essential in markets such as Japan, South Korea, France, Germany and Spain/Latin America. Their distributors also know which albums to promote, or they can create special digital compilations aimed at their market.
If a label does not have good physical distribution, or if its distributors are not active in digital distribution, it must determine whether or not to use one or more aggregators (digital distributors).
Before making that decision, it is important to analyze which digital service providers (download sites) can actually sell the label's recordings. While aggregators can push content to a large number of digital service providers (DSPs), only relatively few may be able to actually sell the label's recordings, and the label may actually be able to deliver its content to these DSPs itself.
Otherwise, the label should look for specialized aggregators, which either specialize in the kind of music the label is selling or which cover specific territories. It might make sense, for example, to use one aggregator for North America and other English-speaking markets; another for French-speaking markets; another for Spain and Spanish Latin America; etc.
Some international aggregators are now setting up offices in overseas markets to establish better relations with local DSPs, but that's still very rare.
Working with different aggregators or supplying content directly to 10 or 20 DSPs may not be easy, but a label should only give its catalog to a single worldwide aggregator as a last resort -- it's like handing your worldwide physical distribution to a single exporter.
And even if a label works through an aggregator, it should still involve its national distributors so that they can benefit from or contribute to the digital marketing.
Klaus HeymannChairman, Naxos Group of Companies
Klaus HeymannChairman, Naxos Group of Companies
Independent labels have several options when it comes to distributing their recordings online.
Regardless of what option they choose, a label should create its own digital files (WAV files that can be converted into other formats) and its own meta data -- it's not rocket science and a label knows its own content better than any third party.
Nowadays, it is very important to coordinate digital and physical marketing and advertising. Therefore, if a label has good physical distribution internationally, it should first try to work through its own network of distributors, provided they have the necessary experience and the right connections with their national digital service providers.
National distributors can create meta data in their local language, which is essential in markets such as Japan, South Korea, France, Germany and Spain/Latin America. Their distributors also know which albums to promote, or they can create special digital compilations aimed at their market.
If a label does not have good physical distribution, or if its distributors are not active in digital distribution, it must determine whether or not to use one or more aggregators (digital distributors).
Before making that decision, it is important to analyze which digital service providers (download sites) can actually sell the label's recordings. While aggregators can push content to a large number of digital service providers (DSPs), only relatively few may be able to actually sell the label's recordings, and the label may actually be able to deliver its content to these DSPs itself.
Otherwise, the label should look for specialized aggregators, which either specialize in the kind of music the label is selling or which cover specific territories. It might make sense, for example, to use one aggregator for North America and other English-speaking markets; another for French-speaking markets; another for Spain and Spanish Latin America; etc.
Some international aggregators are now setting up offices in overseas markets to establish better relations with local DSPs, but that's still very rare.
Working with different aggregators or supplying content directly to 10 or 20 DSPs may not be easy, but a label should only give its catalog to a single worldwide aggregator as a last resort -- it's like handing your worldwide physical distribution to a single exporter.
And even if a label works through an aggregator, it should still involve its national distributors so that they can benefit from or contribute to the digital marketing.
Klaus HeymannChairman, Naxos Group of Companies
Pink Floyd's Roger Waters backs Obama
Former Pink Floyd bassist Roger Waters is hoping US presidential candidate Hilary Clinton won't win because he thinks she will start a war with Iran
Waters hopes Clinton's opponent Barack Obama will beat her and run against Republican John McCain. Though Waters is British, he was upset when Clinton won a primary recently that kept her hopes alive in the race.
Waters said: "I'm a huge fan of Barack Obama. I was so disappointed the other night when the ghastly Hillary got Texas and kept the whole thing going. Please god, let's not have this woman.
"Hillary will want to make her mark and show that she can be just as good as a male president, and she will... invade Iran. Trust me. She voted to declare the Iranian Republican Guard a terrorist organisation. I would buy a whole page in The New York Times and fly Obama's flag."
हिमेश ने अपना ७५थ् गाना रेकॉर्ड किया.
हिमेश अपनी one man music industry के status को बदलना चाहते हैं। और इसी लिए उन्होंने decide किया है की अब उनकी हर नई फ़िल्म में वह एक नए सिंगर को मौका देंगे।
हिमेश को ऐसा लगता है की यह उनका मुसिक इंडस्ट्री के प्रति फ़र्ज़ है। और इसे साबित करने के लिए उन्होंने अपनी अगली फ़िल्म मुढ़ मुढ़ के न देख मुढ़ मुढ़ के में जेनिफ्फेर कोतवाल और निहारिका सिंह को मौका दिया है। उनका कहना है की सा रे गा म पा जज करते वक्त उन्हें कई ऐसी आवाजें सुनने को मिली जिनमे तलेंट था और iस शुक्रवार को उन्होंने अपना ७५थ् गाना रेकॉर्ड किया.
लता मंगेशकर का नया एल्बम टी-सीरीज़ पे.
संगीत के सुप्रीमो टी-सीरीज़ सुरों की मल्लिका लता मंगेशकर के साथ एक नया एल्बम लॉन्च करने जा रहे हैं। यह टी-सीरीज़ का लता मंगेशकर के साथ पहला एल्बम है। लता मंगेशकर भी अपने फंस को एक बार फिर से उनकी आवाज़ पे jhoomne को मजबूर कर dengi और ऐसा लगता है की यह टी-सीरीज़ के लिए एक fayade का सौदा होगा।
एल्बम के एक video में mona singh (jassi जैसी कोई नही) नज़र aayengi और isey direct कर रहे हैं अनुपम singh। लता जी एक बार फिर से अपनी आवाज़ और सुरों का जादू चलाने में kamyaab रही हैं। और यह एल्बम एक chartbuster होगा।
एल्बम के एक video में mona singh (jassi जैसी कोई नही) नज़र aayengi और isey direct कर रहे हैं अनुपम singh। लता जी एक बार फिर से अपनी आवाज़ और सुरों का जादू चलाने में kamyaab रही हैं। और यह एल्बम एक chartbuster होगा।
Let’s Get Ready to Rock
Fans of country and early rock & roll know that Germany’s Bear Family label is home to some of the most lavish and unbearably completist box sets available. (Only the insanely hardcore are advised to check out the complete recordings of Connie Francis from 1955-1959, especially since it doesn’t include her lovely album of Jewish songs।)
Even the label admits as much: “Bear Family is not a ‘greatest hits’ label, and we’re proud of it…even if our accountants aren’t।” But if you’re aching to hear everything recorded by subjects ranging from Johnny Cash to Rod McKuen (and don’t mind shelling out upwards of $200 for sets with more than a dozen CD’s), there’s only one place to visit.
But now a series of single-disc compilations, titled Rocks, is not only making Bear Family an unlikely paragon of brevity but also providing some of the best rock & roll compilations ever heard. Granted, each edition only features the work of a single artist, but then again, has the world ever seen a Jerry Lee Lewis collection that rocks as hard and as long as the very-appropriately-titled Jerry Rocks? What’s so special about this Jerry Lee collection? (Hint: it’s not the fact that they included “Great Balls of Fire” or even “High School Confidential।”) Jerry Rocks so much because it includes not just his early rock & roll but all of his best ’60s and ’70s killers as well, skipping entirely his admittedly great honky tonk material for only the upbeat and torrid sides.
The series is now close to ten titles strong — with volumes on Fats Domino, Roy Orbison, Carl Perkins, Bill Haley, and more — plus new editions have been released on Ronnie Hawkins and Bobby Darin. Also, a side series, titled Gonna Shake This Shack Tonight, presents country artists from Patsy Cline to Webb Pierce in all their rocking glory. And believe it or not, even Connie Francis gets into the act.
Even the label admits as much: “Bear Family is not a ‘greatest hits’ label, and we’re proud of it…even if our accountants aren’t।” But if you’re aching to hear everything recorded by subjects ranging from Johnny Cash to Rod McKuen (and don’t mind shelling out upwards of $200 for sets with more than a dozen CD’s), there’s only one place to visit.
But now a series of single-disc compilations, titled Rocks, is not only making Bear Family an unlikely paragon of brevity but also providing some of the best rock & roll compilations ever heard. Granted, each edition only features the work of a single artist, but then again, has the world ever seen a Jerry Lee Lewis collection that rocks as hard and as long as the very-appropriately-titled Jerry Rocks? What’s so special about this Jerry Lee collection? (Hint: it’s not the fact that they included “Great Balls of Fire” or even “High School Confidential।”) Jerry Rocks so much because it includes not just his early rock & roll but all of his best ’60s and ’70s killers as well, skipping entirely his admittedly great honky tonk material for only the upbeat and torrid sides.
The series is now close to ten titles strong — with volumes on Fats Domino, Roy Orbison, Carl Perkins, Bill Haley, and more — plus new editions have been released on Ronnie Hawkins and Bobby Darin. Also, a side series, titled Gonna Shake This Shack Tonight, presents country artists from Patsy Cline to Webb Pierce in all their rocking glory. And believe it or not, even Connie Francis gets into the act.
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