Ten-year-old me didn't know what to think of the song "Rock On" as it was an unusual thing, but strangely hypnotic and cool too. It was etched into my developing musical preferences. I never forgot the song.
I blame Jack Wagner for Michael Damian being able to release his version of "Rock On" - yeah, I know that's not fair or accurate, but dang it, the only singing soap opera star I need (I was going to try and work an "All I Need" reference in there somewhere, but it seemed like a lot of work for zero payoff) is Rick Springfield.
Let's just pretend that never happened, shall we? (Although I will reluctantly admit his cover version was "okay".)
Before finding this album, the only other song by David Essex I was aware of was "A Winter's Tale," a song I found a few years ago that has become one of my favourite holiday tunes. It is a stunning piece - although my daughter thinks it's rather "meh," but likes that I am so passionate about it, so it evens out.
I found his debut album Rock On in the dollar bin, and I'm listening to it for the first time - the vinyl is in amazing shape, what a find. I have a nice cup of coffee and the dog is sleeping by my feet and no one is around. Ideal conditions to take this in.
The album opens with "Lamplight," which is interesting, but I'm not really sure what it was trying to be. Apparently it was a hit. The first few songs are kind of cool, weird and interesting and quirky. Ah, here comes "Rock On." My goodness, this song sounds fresh still. I love this song. I may not have known what to think of this nearly fifty years ago (wait, how long now? WTF, when did that happen?), but this song is worth the dollar I paid for the album. Anything else I get out of the release is all gravy.
The second side opens with a spacey, almost reggae song titled "Ocean Girl." Oh yeah, here come the steel drums ... this is an unusual song. Man, you have got to give it up for the early '70s stuff - you could pretty much do anything and get away with it.
Reading the back cover, there's a notation in the credits where it lists Ondes Martenot - John Morton. I had to look that one up, as I had no idea what that was. Well, apparently it is an instrument invented by a guy named Maurice Martenot. Sound-wise, the closest thing is a theremin, but this is a bit different. Let's just say it sounded cool.
So far, not a lot of gravy, but it is an interesting listen, and I will go back and run it again because I'll have missed things the first time through. It is an eclectic mix of songs and styles - heck, he's even covered "For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her," originally by Simon and Garfunkel - which is a pretty brave thing considering Art Garfunkel has some pretty big shoes to fill. He gives it a shot. The song is nicely arranged, and it maintains a bit of the atmospheric and dreamy elements of the original, but goes off in a slightly different direction.
One thing I noticed was that at lower volumes the album sounded sort of anemic, so I turned it up a little more and listened to it again, and lo and behold, things came to life.
The album was an interesting experience. You can hear his penchant for theatrics and the dramatic. I guess I was hoping to find a buried treasure full of songs that would be as awesome as "Rock On," but that wasn't the case. It's not quite my cup of tea, but I'm still pretty stoked that I found a copy. If nothing else, hearing "Rock On" was enough for me.
Comments
Post a Comment