Writing for Allmusic, rock critic Bruce Eder states his case well: “Buddy Holly is perhaps the most anomalous legend of ’50s rock & roll – he had his share of hits, and he achieved major rock & roll stardom, but his importance transcends any sales figures or even the particulars of any one song (or group of songs) that he wrote or recorded. Holly was unique, his legendary status and his impact on popular music all the more extraordinary for having been achieved in barely 18 months. . . . In a career lasting from the spring of 1957 until the winter of 1958-1959 – less time than Elvis had at the top before the army took him (and less time, in fact, than Elvis spent in the army) – Holly became the single most influential creative force in early rock & roll. . . .
“Holly and the band weren’t afraid to experiment even on their singles, so that ‘Peggy Sue’ made use of the kind of changes in volume and timbre on the guitar that were usually reserved for instrumental records; similarly, ‘Words of Love’ was one of the earliest successful examples of double-tracked vocals in rock & roll, which the Beatles, in particular, would embrace in the ensuing decade.”
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Meanwhile, Buddy Holly was at the height of his powers as a musician, though record sales began to slip as a result: Holly’s final 45 during his lifetime, “Heartbeat” b/w “Well . . . All Right” peaked at #82 on the Billboard singles charts. Of the “B” side, Bruce Eder notes: “[Buddy Holly] might even have advanced farther than a big chunk of the group’s audience was prepared to accept in late 1958. ‘Well . . . All Right’, for example, was years ahead of its time as a song and a recording.” “Well All Right” is one of the tracks on the excellent Blind Faith album that was released in 1969.
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As important as he is in his home country, the influence of Buddy Holly among British musicians is incalculable. Quoting Bruce Eder again: “The group’s heavy use of rhythm guitar slotted right in with the sound of skiffle music, a mix of blues, folk, country, and jazz elements that constituted most of British youth’s introduction to playing music and their way into rock & roll. Additionally, although he cut an exciting figure on-stage, Holly looked a lot less likely a rock & roll star than Elvis – tall, lanky, and bespectacled, he looked like an ordinary guy who simply played and sang well, and part of his appeal as a rock & roll star was rooted in how unlikely he looked in that role. He provided inspiration – and a way into the music – for tens of thousands of British teenagers who also couldn’t imagine themselves rivals to Elvis or Gene Vincent in the dark and dangerous department. . . . Additionally, although he played several different kinds of guitar, Holly was specifically responsible for popularizing – some would say elevating to mystical, even magical status – the Fender Stratocaster, especially in England.”
(June 2013/1)
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Writing for Allmusic, Bruce Eder noted that early on, most drummers were famous only because the bands they were in were famous: “Ginger Baker was rock’s first superstar drummer and the most influential percussionist of the 1960s. . . . Baker made his name entirely on his playing, initially as showcased in Cream, but far transcending even that trio’s relatively brief existence. Though he only cut top-selling records for a period of about three years at the end of the 1960s, virtually every drummer of every heavy metal band that has followed since that time has sought to emulate some aspect of Baker’s playing.”
The first “posthumous” album by Cream, Live Cream (later called Live Cream, Vol. 1) had just 5 tracks, mostly drawn from the songs on Fresh Cream; another live album was a natural due to the critical and public acclaim for Wheels of Fire (the first double-album to go platinum), where one of the two albums was recorded live. Bruce Eder calls Live Cream “their most consistently brilliant album for sheer musicianship”.
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Whereas rock music critique was previously about what was good and what was bad, the Blind Faith album was released (in August 1969) at a time when opinions began to be divided about rock music as a whole, and beyond mere aesthetic considerations – whether the idea of rock as an industry could be a good thing regardless of what the music itself was like. Here is how Bruce Eder opens his article on Blind Faith for Allmusic: “Blind Faith was either one of the great successes of the late ’60s, a culmination of the decade’s efforts by three legendary musicians – or it was a disaster of monumental proportions, and a symbol of everything that had gone wrong with the business of rock at the close of the decade. In actual fact, Blind Faith was probably both.” In any case, Blind Faith didn’t stay together but seven months.
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In the 4½ star review of the first Ginger Baker’s Air Force album in Allmusic, Bruce Eder raves: “For a change, the late 1960s yielded up a supergroup that lived up to its hype and then some. Ginger Baker’s Air Force was recorded live at Royal Albert Hall in January of 1970 – in fact, this may be the best-sounding live album ever to come out of that notoriously difficult venue – at a show that must have been a wonder to watch, as the ten-piece band blazed away in sheets of sound, projected delicate flute parts behind multi-layered African percussion, or built their songs up Bolero-like, out of rhythms from a single instrument into huge jazz-cum-R&B crescendos. Considering that this was only their second gig, the group sounds astonishingly tight, which greatly reduces the level of self-indulgence that one would expect to find on an album where five of the eight tracks run in excess of ten minutes.”
(May 2014)
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Manfred Mann was one of the original British Invasion bands, but they deserve more State-side success than they had, so allow me to quote Bruce Eder’s article in Allmusic to give an overview of the band’s history: “An R&B band that only played pop to get on the charts, Manfred Mann ranked among the most adept British Invasion acts in both styles. The fact that their range encompassed jazz as well as rhythm & blues, coupled with some elements of their appearance and presentation – co-founder/keyboardist Manfred Mann’s bearded, bespectacled presence – also made the Manfreds more of a thinking person’s band than a cute, cuddly outfit like the Beatles, or sexual provocateurs in the manner of the Rolling Stones. Yet, their approach to R&B was as valid as that of the Stones, equally compelling and often more sophisticated. They charted an impressive number of singles from 1964 through 1969, and developed a large, loyal international fandom that lingers to this day.”
(June 2014)
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Unlike several other recent posts of mine where Allmusic really had almost nothing to contribute on the band that I was writing about, there is a long article about the Primitives by Bruce Eder – maybe the longest that I have seen on Allmusic for any of the UARB’s and UARA’s over the years. The opening remarks make it clear how great Eder thinks the band was:
“The Primitives were never, ever exactly a household name, even in Oxford, where they had a serious following as a club band – and that’s a reminder that some things in life and history, and even music, are just so unfair as to be unsettling. The Primitives [were] signed to Pye Records in 1964 [and] never found even a small national audience in England. . . . Castle Communications issued their catalog on CD in 2003. That CD was a delight and a vexation; it proved in the listening that these guys deserved a lot better than cult or footnote status, but it also brought home the unfairness inherent in their status. Even in their second, slightly more pop-oriented incarnation, when they were allowed to cut loose and be who and what they really were – a loud band without a lot of subtlety but power to spare and the sincerity to put over their music – they rated a place near the top of Pye Records’ roster and in the upper reaches of the British Invasion pantheon. Listening to the CD, this reviewer found himself pained, to the point of shedding a tear, over the fact that this band only got to leave 24 songs behind from its prime years. . . .
“[T]heir sound was very similar to the Pretty Things, rooted heavily in American R&B, and [lead singer Jay] Roberts was a serious, powerful shouter who could sound seriously, achingly raspy, rough, and growly, while the others played with virtually none of the niceties or delicacy that usually marred British attempts at the music.”
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The first release by the Primitives was “Help Me” b/w “Let Them Tell”. Both sides of this monster single are included on the English Freakbeat, Volume 1 CD. Bruce Eder has this lavish description of the single in his Allmusic article:
“[The Primitives] could and should have been one of the top groups on the Pye label, based on their rough-and-ready debut ‘Help Me’, a cover of a Sonny Boy Williamson [II] number that was beautifully raw and authentic, and wonderfully intense across an astonishingly long three minutes and 39 seconds, [John E.] Soul’s harmonica and [Geoff] Eaton’s guitar keeping the verisimilitude right up there like a Chess Records session gone out of control, amid [Jay] Roberts’ ever more intense romantic lamentations. The group-authored B-side, ‘Let Them Tell’, was almost as much a showcase for the harmonica and rhythm section as for Roberts’ singing. Amazingly, that November 1964 release even made it out in America, as part of the very short-lived licensing agreement between Pye and Philadelphia-based Cameo-Parkway Records, which also issued the Kinks’ first U.S. single, before Pye headed for the greener pastures of Warner-Reprise.”
Like the band’s first record, the Primitives’ second single for Pye Records, “You Said” b/w “How Do You Feel” did not chart at all in the U.K. About the flip side, Bruce Eder notes: “[A] bluesy cut with a nice, choppy rhythm part, similar to what the Yardbirds did with ‘Here ’Tis’ or ‘Good Morning Little School Girl’ on-stage, only with better singing.”
Mal and the Primitives released just one single in Great Britain; “Every Minute of Every Day” b/w “Pretty Little Face” (the latter song written by bandmember John E. Soul) came out on Pye Records and also made no impact on the charts, like the earlier Primitives singles. About their final U.K. single, Bruce Eder has this praise: “They had a sound similar to the original group, although [Mal] Ryder was more of a dramatic singer, with an intense but less raspy delivery, more along the lines of a pop-soul vocalist like Chris Farlowe in his later 1960’s incarnation. ‘Every Minute [of Every Day]’ was a suitable A-side, similar to the group’s past work, while ‘Pretty Little Face’ was a lot more elegant than anything the original group had ever done, right down to the rather lyrical acoustic lead guitar doubling the opening piano part, similar to what the guitars on Bill Wyman’s ‘In Another Land’ [by the Rolling Stones] do on the middle and final verse of that song.”
For Allmusic, Bruce Eder has this overview of their later years: “Unfortunately, as the records focused more and more on [Mal] Ryder, [the Primitives] became more of a kind of generic cover outfit for English-language songs of all genres. According to annotator David Wells, their R&B orientation gave way to pieces such as ‘Dear Mr. Fantasy’ [by Traffic] and ‘Song of a Baker’ [by Small Faces], but also ‘Love Letters in the Sand’ and (astonishingly) ‘Over the Rainbow’. Their edge was gone and, by the mid-’70s, so was the band.”
(May 2015)
