I am always amused by these discussions because I see stuff picked that is great music (at least to those who pick it) but cannot honestly be described as great-sounding in a technical sense.

Of course it is hard to separate; and maybe there are albums that sound deliberately “bad” as part of the artistic statement.

Conversely, if the music does not interest you, it is hard to appreciate the sonics.

Here were my picks though: six albums that I know will always sound good.

Kind of Blue by Miles Davis – great presence and realism, interesting bass lines to follow.

 
Carpenters by The Carpenters. Probably influenced by the great voice, but I find this a really natural sounding recording. CD you can get for pennies at any supermarket here in the UK.

New Blood by Peter Gabriel. Modern recording, just very nicely done. Probably helped by natural acoustic sound of orchestra etc.

The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. I like this for its simplicity and realism. If you want a recording where you can close your eyes and imagine a man there singing, this is excellent.

Electric Cafe by Kraftwerk. Great sounding electronica.

Stravinksky: Le sacre de Printemps/L’Oiseau de feu; Detroit Symphony Orchestra, Antal Dorati (Decca) No idea how this ranks in a list of fine-sounding classical recordings but I like it, beautifully conveys the drama of the music.

Always interested in hearing about other people’s favourites, from a sonic point of view.

The exhibition is in the basement and darkly lit; the backdrop picture builds anticipation as you descend the stairs.

Unfortunately the exhibition did not live up to the promise from my point of view. I am a big fan of the photographs in the booklet that comes with the double LP and these form an important part of the exhibition as you would expect. Sadly it appears that nobody can find the originals so they seem to have been scanned from the printed booklet and do not look particularly good blown up large. Photographer Ethan Russell says:

After Quadrophenia I slowly backed away from photography. I proposed a television film of it, and it almost got made. I became a writer and, working on my first book, went to England to find the Quadrophenia negatives. They were gone.

Since Russell himself sells reproductions scanned from the book that is clearly all that anyone can find. A great shame.

So what else is in the exhibition? There are a couple of scooters including this one:

This is a modified Vespa PX 125 including “mod-style extra mirrors”. The description advertised is a competition to win it; I followed the instructions only to be told that the competition had finished.

There is also a box of demo tapes

as well as some of Pete Townshend’s original story notes and various panels describing the Quadrophenia recording process. These are interesting in themselves, though if you have the recently issued box set you will find they are taken straight from the book.

Two things would have made the exhibition much better from my point of view. One would have been high quality reproductions or the originals of the photographs as mentioned above. The other would have been greater depth and variety of information – as it is, there is really nothing here that is not already in the deluxe book and box, and the box itself is disappointing in that it is really Pete Townshend’s project and lacks contributions from other band members, Who outtakes, or any audio from the original (unsuccessful) Quadrophenia tour.

Still, the exhibition is free and it is worth looking in if you are in the area.

It connects somehow, the frustration of My g-g-g-generation extended to an entire double album, played with the frenetic energy and genius of The Who, and intermingled with a dash of Pete Townshend’s mystical leanings. I am the sea.

It is not only the music, the whole package was perfect when it arrived in autumn 1973. The black and white cover with the scooter and the four faces of the band reflected in its mirrors, and a breathtakingly good series of monochrome photographs. If any record deserves a deluxe edition, this one does.

And here it is – or is it? What we have is something half-way between the sumptuous, informative, historic collector’s edition which the album merits, and the kind of money grabbing release you get when some record company notices how much people are paying for boxed sets these days and says, “Quick, let’s get Quadrophenia out before the CD market disappears completely”.

Because there is a lot wrong with this release.

Still, time to stop rambling and tell you what you get. Within a very solid slipcase you will find a poster advertising the original double album (actually this is a fine reproduction and one of the better things here), a colour envelope holding various bits of memorabilia: reproductions of some of Townshend’s draft lyrics, a rather darkly reproduced colour photo of Jimmy (the central character) on a scooter, and a 7-inch single of 5.15 backed with the slightly rare track Water.

Then there is the main event: a 100-page hardback book of photos and an essay by Townshend, within which nestle the original double CD, a DVD with 8 tracks remixed for 5.1 surround sound, and two CDs of Townshend’s demos for the album.

The book is certainly nice to have, though bear in mind that the original album came with a 46 page insert which is all included in the book, so that accounts for nearly a quarter of it. I am also upset to report that the quality of those wonderful photographs is poor; I was really hoping that I would get better copies than those in my falling-apart LP but in fact these are noticeably worse; they have that grainy look you get when photos are reprinted from a print rather than from the originals.

Still, the *other* photos in the book are nicely reproduced and the essay is fascinating if you love Quadrophenia half as much as I do. Townshend recounts how he came up with the story that is printed in the front cover of the LP (and also here), when remembering how he slept under Brighton pier once “after a riotous night at the Aquarium ballroom.” He also describes how the album came together, how it was recorded, and adds notes on the songs and demos.

If you are a fan, you will definitely want to hear the demos too. They form a sort-of alternate version of the album, lacking the Who’s energy but with its own appeal. There are also songs here that are not on the album, and others that did not show up until the soundtrack of the Quadrophenia film. Some of the songs have overdubs which I personally would rather had been omitted.

The 5.1 mix is enjoyable too. This album is ideal for surround sound, especially at those moments when sea noises swirl around.

It’s curious though that only 8 tracks have been mixed to 5.1. Why? But the rest of 5.1 Quadrophenia is not the only thing missing.

The important thing to realise is that this is Townshend’s deluxe box, rather than The Who’s deluxe box. I have not spotted any contribution to the package from Roger Daltrey, despite his massive contribution to the quality of the album, nor even any attempt to collect existing quotes from the two members of the band who are no longer with us, Keith Moon and John Entwistle. There are no outtakes from band sessions, nor are there any live tracks from when Quadrophenia was performed live back in the day; yes I realise that the concerts at the time had some problems but I would still love to hear how they sounded.

Quadrophenia was remixed in 1996 and it is the remix that is offered here (it sounds the same as before), but for completeness I would have liked both mixes to be included, in line with what has been done in deluxe boxes for other classic albums such as Jethro Tull’s Aqualung and King Crimson’s In the Court of. To my mind the original mix is still important, the Quadrophenia that is as I first heard it in the seventies.

So this is a frustrating production, much less than it should be; but then again frustration is what Quadrophenia is all about so that is curiously fitting.

Fans will still want this package, hard though it is to justify the cost – especially when you consider that 11 of the 25 demos are also on the Deluxe 2-CD set at one sixth of the price, and that even more memorabilia is also available online at the new Q-Cloud site, accessible to anyone who has purchased or ripped the CD.

And I suppose when and if the full 5.1 release is done eventually we will be asked to pay again.

Garson played on many of Bowie’s albums, from Ziggy Stardust through to Reality, and made a key contribution to the sound. I particularly like his work on David Live, Bowie’s live album from 1974, but it is consistently good, which is no doubt why he remained part of the band.

This CD is I guess a kind of tribute and reflection on his work with Bowie; one of the tracks is actually called Tribute to David. Garson performs solo piano variations on a number of Bowie’s songs. Note that these are variations, not performances as such, and since Garson is a creative jazz pianist they really are variations; in some cases it takes a while to work out what the song is, even if you know Bowie’s version well.

The performance is excellent, and the recording quality is outstanding. Nevertheless I was a little disappointed; found it a little too mellow and smooth for my taste. Perhaps Garson needs the interplay with the band to spark that edgy quality that I love.

The title track, a cover of Sam Cooke’s song, is astonishing. The pace is slower than the original. The song builds from a quiet, haunting opening into a heartfelt, almost prayerful appeal. Burke’s effortless vocals are melodic yet powerful; it sounds real, even to the voiceover at the end.

It’s been a long long long time comin’, but a change is gonna come, a change has got to come.

There is nothing quite like it elsewhere on the album, but plenty to enjoy, from the soulful Love buys Love to fun tracks like Don’t Tell me what a man won’t do for a woman.

The sound is immaculate, and the accompaniment, including the “Windfall Horns” (Bill Samuels, Terry Tullos and Ernie Gautreau), is nearly perfect.

It is the sound of New Orleans and was recorded at Studio Solo in Slidell, Louisiana.

Recommended.

Quadrophenia is one album I still play regularly. I am not sure why, but it has some kind of hold on me. I guess it is an anthem for anyone who has felt misunderstood and who likes The Who.

I am therefore keen to hear things like the rumoured 5.1 mix of Quadrophenia as well as any demos, concerts from the period, and so on, that might be thrown in. I would also like a good copy of the photos from the original insert, because mine has fallen apart. Most of them did, since the stitching was not strong enough to hold the booklet to the LP cover.

That said, I do not need new vinyl, nor a book that I will browse through once and never again.

The snag with this type of box is that they are all or nothing; and usually carefully designed so that there is at least one exclusive thing that you don’t want to do without.

EMI did David Bowie’s Station to Station box, making it the only source for the new surround mix.

The other thing all these boxes have in common is an extravagant price. Live at Leeds Super Deluxe came out last year and is the only way to get the complete Hull performance on CD, though you can download from Apple’s iTunes. The box was always expensive; now it is out of print and optimistic resellers on Amazon are asking nearly £400.00 for it.

So I have mixed feelings about the new Quadrophenia, but will probably buy it anyway.

If you let them do it to you You’ve got yourself to blame.
It’s you who feels the pain

Brian Eno – glitch (taken from Drums Between The Bells) by Warp Records

“There is a glitch in the system outside the brain flow,” it begins; and while I would not like to be pressed on the meaning of this statement I like the track, which is intriguing, melodic and percussive, complete with electronically modified vocals. If you prefer the non-ambient Eno to the ambient Eno, as I guess I do, you might like this one.

You can get it from Eno Shop in a variety of formats, including an expensive book and 2CD package with bonus instrumental versions of the tracks, or as a standard CD.

Money Shuffle was an energetic opener; it is one of those songs that you think you have heard before even when you have not, with a timeless Richard Thompson feel to it. Then it was on through Dream Attic – he is performing his recent CD nearly in its entirety on this tour – with a slow tempo for Among the Gorse Among the Grey, and then full speed into Haul Me Up, a rollicking number which was a lot of fun.

As we progressed though the album Thompson gave succinct intros to the songs, gently mocking his own predilection for songs of death and mayhem – I loved these little bits of chatter, and I wish they had been put into the album, which is recorded live.

When we got to Big Sun falling in the River I had a moment of reflection. The song is set in London, Thompson told us, where the river is wide and at the right moment you can get some spectacular sunsets. The lyrics tell of a relationship going bad and shattered dreams:

Big Sun Falling In The River
Big sky shining in the water
Big love dying like the dying day

He doesn’t sing it like someone particularly upset though – not like, say, Missie how you let me down, or Long Dead Love, from Daring Adventures. Still, it is one of the recurring themes in Thompson’s music, with another being death. Sidney Wells, also on Dream Attic, is a gory tale of a serial murderer. Why so gloomy?

After my second beer last night I had what seemed a brilliant insight into the matter. It starts with English folk music, which sings of death in order to help us come to terms with mortality. And it continues with Richard Thompson writing Meet on the Ledge as a teenager:

Meet on the ledge, we’re gonna meet on the ledge
When my time is up I’m gonna see all my friends
Meet on the ledge, we’re gonna meet on the ledge
If you really mean it, it all comes round again

Richard Thompson’s words gained added poignancy after the tragic motor accident in 1969, when Fairport Convention’s drummer Martin Lamble and Thompson’s girlfriend Jeannie Franklyn died.

There is no answer to the reality of pain and loss; but music and humour is one route to healing and perhaps this is part of what is going on in Richard Thompson’s music and in the folk tradition.

As for the concert, we moved on through an evocative Stumble On and a lively Bad Again towards the interval, after which, Thompson had told us, he would sing his hits “it will be very short” he joked.

After settling for an ice cream thanks to the Royal Concert Hall’s lack of anything that can be described as beer, I returned after the interval expecting a succession of blasts from the past and more engagement from the audience. It turned out not quite like that. There was less chatter – though after performing The Angels Took my Racehorse Away, Thompson did remark on his pride that Henry the Human Fly, from which the song is taken, was the worst selling record ever in Warner Brothers catalogue (an exaggeration, I am sure). We got Wall of Death, though I felt it was a bit of a throwaway, perhaps he is getting tired of the song. We got an atmospheric Al Bowlly’s in Heaven with solos from band members, who were:

Pete Zorn – all sorts
Michael Jerome – drums
Taras Prodaniuk – bass
Joel Zifkin – electric violin

Al Bowlly is hardly a song for drummers, but let me mention that Jerome’s performance was excellent throughout the show, adding lots of energy to the sound, even if he did knock over several mic stands and cause a panic emergence of roadies onto the stage to fix things up during one of the songs.

Still, while Al Bowlly and Wall of Death count as hits in Richard Thompson terms, I would not say that numbers like One Door Opens and Take Care the Road you Choose are in that category, and it remained a low-key evening. We had one short encore and that was that.

I enjoyed the first half more; I think Thompson is more engaged with the new songs, and liked that he took the trouble to tell us a bit about them.

I have never been been to a poor Richard Thompson concert; I loved being there last night and he delivered in every respect. If I sound a little disappointed it is only because I have been to some that I enjoyed even more. I think Dream Attic is a good album but not a great album, and feel the same way about the concert. That said, if you ever get the opportunity to see this man perform, go without hesitation; he is one of the best.

Setlist

The Money Shuffle
Among the Gorse among the Grey
Haul me Up
Demons in her Dancing Shoes
Crimescene
Big Sun Falling in the River
Stumble On
Sidney Wells
A Brother slips away
Bad again
If Love whispers your Name
—INTERVAL—
The angels took my racehorse away
Can’t Win
One door opens
Al Bowlly’s in Heaven (band solos)
I’ll never give it up
Wall of death
Tear-stained letter
Take Care the Road you Choose
A Man in Need

Why? I can think of a few reasons. Because Steve Jobs was born in 1955 and this is the music of his teen years. Because it is the finale in a long battle between Apple Computer and Apple Corps Ltd. And because the Beatles are arguably the pinnacle of popular music, regularly topping lists like the Rolling Stone 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. In fact, Beatles albums occupy four of the top ten slots.

It follows that the Beatles coming to iTunes is a landmark moment for Apple (computer) and shows the extent to which it now dominates music delivery.

That said, some observers were bewildered. Beatles fans already have the music, and have ripped their CDs to music servers and iPods so that iTunes availability will make no difference to them; and people born from a decade or two later than Steve Jobs mostly do not revere the band in the same way.

Speaking personally, those four albums are not in my top ten all-time favourites, good though they are, and I am more likely to put on Lennon’s cathartic Plastic Ono Band album than Sergeant Pepper.

I also wonder how long iTunes can sustain its position. To my mind, the streaming model of Spotify, where you pay a subscription and can listen to anything you want, makes more sense than the download model of iTunes.

But you want to own the music? Well, you cannot; even a CD or LP only sells you a licence. An iTunes purchase is more ephemeral than a CD, because it is a personal licence with no resale value, and comes with no physical container that you can put on the shelf. It is also, in the case of the Beatles albums and many others,  more expensive to buy the iTunes download than the CD, so you are paying a premium for the convenience of near-instant digital delivery.

It follows that iTunes offers rather poor value in an absolute sense. It is best to think of it as a service; and Apple does a nice job of making music easy to find and enjoy.

Final note: even if you have no interest in buying, it is worth running up iTunes and playing the hitherto unavailable video Live at the Washington Coliseum, 1964, which you can stream for free for an introductory period.

The source used for these titles varies. Some are new DSD (Direct Stream Digital, the digital format of SACD) master made from copy master tapes held in Japan. Some are re-issues of existing DSD transfers. Some are newly mastered from original master tapes.

Who’s Next is apparently in this last group, newly mastered from the original tapes. It is said to have been done as straight as possible,  with no equalization or compression, and is the original mix.

This is a favourite of mine, so I bought a copy. It comes in typically over-the-top Japanese packaging, SHM-SACD in a plastic film sleeve inside a paper sleeve inside a card sleeve. There is a fold-out cover with a photograph I’ve not seen before, liner notes, obi, and a card to return with suggestions for future titles.

I played the disk and compared it to my existing CD. In fact, I must confess, I have several copies. Who’s Next has been issued many times, and the most obsessive fans know that the best CD is an early one mastered by Steve Hoffman and made in Japan for the US market. He has written about how he mastered it on his forum, using as little processing as possible though he did add some modest EQ.

Both the Hoffman CD and the new SACD sound very good. I am not quite sure which I prefer, but it may be the SACD which sounds exceptionally clean and lets you easily follow John Entwistle’s fantastic bass lines. Or it might be the Hoffman CD which is remarkably crisp and muscular. There is an odd problem with the SACD, which is that the last track is noticeably louder than the others. It was recorded separately, but that seems no reason not to match the volume.

So do I recommend the SACD, and by extension, the new SHM-SACD range? Well, I am all in favour of mastering CDs with full dynamic range, no attempt at noise reduction, minimal processing, and without the excessive compression that mars so many new releases. The Who’s Next title shows what great results you an get with this approach.

That said, it is tragic to have these high quality new remasters restricted to a niche format at an excessive price. The SHM thing I suspect is nonsense; if CDs and SACDs made with ordinary material did not work properly, we would have noticed it years ago. The advantages of SACD are doubtful too, certainly for stereo, because the limitations of human hearing make the extended frequency response pointless. I have researched this to the best of my ability and while I don’t know for sure that high-resolution formats like SACD are completely pointless, it does seem that standard CDs can sound either the same or nearly the same when the audible difference is put to the test with any rigour.

The SACD format is also rather inconvenient. You cannot easily rip to to a music server, you have to make a further digital copy from the analogue output of the SACD player, and then rip the copy, probably breaching your license in doing so, and potentially degrading the sound quality.

I also compared stereo-only and hybrid SACDs using Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde, which was issued in both guises. The stereo version sounds identical.

Still, even you are paying for a certain amount of stuff and nonsense, you are also getting SACDs that genuinely sound good, at least in the case of Who’s Next. Perhaps it could even be worth it.