Walter Rossi - Diamonds for the Kid

I had no idea who Walter Rossi was when I picked up Diamonds for the Kid. The name felt familiar, but I was probably confusing him with Gary Rossington. Who knows, I can't figure out how my brain works. Frankly it was the cover that caught my attention. My goodness that cream Les Paul Custom looked so cool. The Bigsby B7 and the missing middle pick up and the distinctive pots and mystery switch just looked awesome. There was Walter standing impatiently, looking a little like Al Di Meola (it reminded me of the Elegant Gypsy cover without the woman in black), with his hands on his hips with his shirt unzipped, probably down to his belt buckle, giving the camera a look that could wilt flowers and scare children. He may have looked like a middle aged guy with thinning hair who had seen it all and kept the receipts but he was only thirty three years old at the time.

Walter was, as you may have guessed from the cover, a guitar player. In the '60s he earned his stripes playing with Wilson Pickett and the Buddy Miles Express. He'd then be in a few bands working his way around the circuit and became a session musician and producer.

As a solo artist he released three albums starting in 1976 with a self titled effort, and then in 1978 Six Strings and Nine Lives, and finally in 1980 Diamonds for the Kid. Then he stopped for a few years returning in 1984, and a final album in 2005. He passed away in April of 2022 a month shy of his 58th birthday - he was still young. Along the way he was nominated twice for a Juno Award in the Most Promising Male Vocalist of the Year category. First in 1978 when he lost to David Bradstreet, a guy I've never heard of. It was probably cold comfort that Pat Travers didn't win either. However, in 1980 he won. That year among the nominees was a young Bryan Adams. That category and "Best New Artist" always seemed like an award that was jinxed. I suspect somewhere in the recesses of my mind that's why his name seemed familiar as I faithfully watched the Juno Awards up until the mid '80s.

Anyway, it seemed appropriate to cobble together a little history as I found Diamonds for the Kid to be a pretty eclectic collection of songs. Walter ran the gamut from rock to prog to funk and disco and made it seem easy. For a guy who was all about the guitar, he knew how to colour within the lines and he always serviced the song first. Make no mistake he would cut loose but only if it served the song. Since he wrote the songs there was generally room to work the frets.

I've been listening to this album off and on for a week or so and it's definitely grown on me. Walter is a decent singer and a fabulous guitar player. There are only eight songs here, so I think I'll just go drop the needle and jot down what's been percolating in my head.

The first time I dropped the needle I actually did a bit of a double take and went back and re-positioned the needle. "Down by the Waterfront" opens the record and rather than kicking off with the blistering six string assault I had prepared for, the song quietly opens with a lone plaintive piano and Walter singing the opening stanzas. It's intimate, and it sounds like he didn't have a windscreen in front of his mic as his vocals seemed to almost be too front and centre - you can feel him breathing. My first thought was "Oh no" but this foreboding was quickly erased when the band kicked in. This was sounding like vintage Springsteen with a hint of Seger. Then the backing singers came in and the song picked up some real swagger. When Walter added the power chords as seasoning and any reservations I had were gone. It didn't matter that it seemed like a paint my numbers version inspired by "Born to Run" complete with what sounds like a glockenspiel and big sax solo, this was really good.

Changing gears "High Stakes (For Your Love)" starts out like a soft rock song, but the guitar here is just too rocking. Walter's voice at the start of the song seemed to be run through a chorus effect, which was a little more subtle than what ZZ Top did to their voices on  El Loco in '81. However as the song progressed when Walter is belting it out he just sounds like himself, and boy howdy the guitar was screaming.

"Sniffin' The Breeze, Feelin' The Freeze" starts out with drummer Denis Farmer literally borrowing Bun E. Carlos' opening to Cheap Trick's "I Want You to Want Me" before the song takes a hard left at Albuquerque and Walter starts squeezing off pinch harmonics and rippin' it up. I love the fact that he opted to include a whistling solo. This is a great boogie woogie shuffle. One of the best rockers on the album.

The first side closes with my favourite song on the record: "Willie Johnson" clocks in at seven and a half minutes and takes it's time building into a strange almost southern rock prog song. The song lyrics are sort of confusing and if there's a cautionary tale of woe regarding Willie Johnson it's not clear what it is. Did something bad happen? There's a section where he's surrounded by kids essentially giving them candy ... my mind immediately started conjuring up a horror story plot-line about abducted kids but then Walter goes on to say how Willie was a friend. Honestly it doesn't matter. The song is all over the place complete with playground noises and by gum it truly is the best song on the album.

The second side opens with "So Susceptible" a song that features some nice keyboard textures and really nice backing vocals. It's not Gospel but it's in the same neighbourhood. I was actually surprised that Walter didn't unload a monster solo on the song. It practically screamed for a solo. Instead he opted to craft a wicked slow burn. Too bad the song faded out ... a holdover from the '70s.

Although this was released in 1980. Walter seemed to be firmly rooted in the '70s and "13 Steps To Heaven" I'm sure would have been a hit a few years earlier with the mixture of disco and funk. It's not that it isn't catchy .. it's just not really my thing. However, props to Walter for writing and performing the songs he wanted. I'm trying to be charitable, if this was on the radio I'd have exercised the off button or changed the channel.

From funk to what is a unusual mixture of hard rock, with a funky plucked bass and an almost rap style vocal Mister Rossi let's it all out on "Dear Mom." I'm not sure I love this song or not. I wonder if Andy Summers ever heard this and used it as a template for his song "Mother" that came out a few years later on Synchronicity. It's a weird but cool, but still weird song.

Closing out Diamonds for the Kid is a nine minute opus titled "Silent I Wait." Walter Rossi is singing at the top of his range and at times you can feel him trying to get a little more but he's hit his ceiling. After three minutes of relative calm the band suddenly explodes and Walter finally truly let's his guitar do the talking. There's a sense here he's trying to outdo Jim Steinman. The cacophony settled down again around the five minute mark as the band catches its breath. The drums though are mixed right up front and boy are they loud and fat. Then there's another solo. No flash or flurry of notes, just a tasty passage. The song slowly starts to decelerate as the drums and strings accompany the guitar's building solo and then it all comes to a climax in a big rock ending. Is it good? It's no "Freebird" or "2112" but dang it, he went for it ... maybe he fell short but my goodness he went for it.

I liked this more than I expected. This first time through I thought it was okay, but there was something that kept me coming back. It's strange to me that Aquarius records didn't green light a followup. Listening now it makes me wonder what he'd have come up with if he'd dropped an album in '82. Perhaps with the start of the '80s they felt his style of rock was too rooted in a bygone era and that the future didn't have room for a '70s styled guitar hero who didn't seem to stay in a particular musical lane.

As it is, this is where I started and it was enough of a hook to generate interest in his back catalogue. I am especially curious about his 1978 album Six Strings and Nine Lives. '78 would have been Walter Rossi's sweet spot.