5 Songs Friday Mar 7, 2025

These five recordings are outstanding for different reasons

Orange Juice – “Wan Light” 1982 from You Can’t Hide Your Love Forever. You see, kids, when I was young there was no one central place to find out what new records were coming out. And also in those days, lots of records came out in England that never got released here in the the U.S. My friends and I toured local record stores, trying to see what was new and interesting even if we didn’t have enough money to buy all of it. I remember seeing this album cover, with those two dolphins leaping up from the water against the bright blue sky background, and knowing it had to be something I would love. I’m sure I read about Orange Juice in New Musical Express or Melody Maker, maybe even in Trouser Press. I think I may have lucked into a used copy of this album, or else I just kept saving money waiting to buy the high-priced new import – it may have cost $10. Once I got it, I fell in love with almost every song on it, whether sung by Edwyn Collins, or as in this case, James Kirk (who left the band after the debut album). Those bright guitars chiming licks and riffs and chords, the zipping bass line, the slightly funky drumming, the horns, and the loose but ecstatic vocals! “There is a place which no one has seen / Where it is still possible to dream.” True enough, and it’s wherever this album sits on a turntable.

Burning Spear – “Slavery Days” 1975 from Marcus Garvey. Winston Rodney, the man who calls himself Burning Spear, has one of the most remarkable voices in reggae music. With his unique slightly offbeat rhythmic sense and his ability to jump to long loud notes which don’t necessarily fit the harmony yet still sound perfect, he is always instantly identifiable. For my money, the Marcus Garvey album stands as his masterpiece in a career filled with excellent records. “Slavery Days” pulls no punches – Spear places himself directly in the lineage of his ancestors who were brought to Jamaica from Africa to work as slaves. With the horn section placing a call to action, the backing vocalists chanting a call to remember, and one of the deepest reggae grooves underneath it all, Spear channels the pain and suffering and honor of the people who went through so much. He also reminds us that this lineage is still active, and that it must never be forgotten.

Ben Webster – “Don’t Blame Me” 1943 available on Ben and the Boys. I don’t know about you but I need some comfort right now. And there’s nothing more snuggly than the warm vibrato of tenor saxophonist Ben Webster. This small group take on the Jimmy McHugh tune from 1933 is delicately embracing yet sternly complex. (By the way, some of you may remember this song from an Everly Brothers minor hit version in 1961.) The rhythm section isn’t moving at all, just laying down a steady beat for dancers. Webster introduces the melody, allows trumpeter Hot Lips Page to blow loud and lovely for a bit, then wanders among the chord changes like a proto-bebopper who doesn’t want us to forget the melody but wants us to think about the possibilities. It’s a fantastic performance I hadn’t encountered before from a man who I don’t think ever phoned it in.

Rick Nelson – “Nighttime Lady” 1972 from Garden Party. Some records are great but the lyrics are kind of cringe. This is one of them. I mean there was this whole trope in early singer/songwriter days of a symbolic woman representing peace and comfort and pleasure to the man singing about her. I don’t buy for a minute Nelson is singing about anybody real here – “Nightime lady, artist of the night / Paint your pictures on faceless beds of white.” Ugh. And how about this contradictory couplet: “Nightime lady, hold your head up high / Lay down beside me, it’s alright”? Hold your head up and lay down? How do you do that, Rick? But the thing is, I love this song because of the gentle feel of the music, because of the way the two vocals – possibly both by Nelson – curl around the melody, one in each ear, and because of the sweet pedal steel solo in the middle of the record. Nelson was right to sing in the title track about the difficulty of being an ex-pop idol, because he clearly was able to make strong original music in his own voice.

The Transmitters – “Nice Try” 2007 from Receiver. The Transmitters were a St. Louis band that lasted a couple years back in the mid-00s. Of course, I have followed singer/songwriter/rhythm guitarist Kip Loui’s music for 40 years now, so each of his short-lived band projects seem placed on a continuum to me. The Transmitters were his rock band, with a harder, crunchier sound than he’s had before or since. “Nice Try” is built on a swaggering seventh-chord riff, and features some liquid lead guitar from Mike Young and pumping electric piano from Jon Parsons. Loui leans into the vocal – I love the way he pushed his naturally graceful voice into a growl with this band. Bassist Dave Stallman plays some melodic bottom end, and drummer Scott Lampley provides rigorously steady rhythm. Great track that deserves more exposure.