Stronger WithEach Tear - Mary J Blige

Provenance: My wonderful partner, the poet Sea Sharp (and here I'm sounding like Vincent Price, who always referred to his wife as "the actress Coral Browne" (I sincerely hope your inner voice read that out in his voice)) was given this as a graduation present.

I want to preface this by saying that tonight will be the first time I'll have ever listened to this album, and indeed, any Mary J Blige album. To my discredit, my knowledge of Blige and her output could easily be written on a postage stamp, leaving enough room for me to list my favourite Steely Dan songs, which happens to be all of them.

Review: First off, without even hearing a note, what is this horseshit cover art? A nice big picture of the artist, her name's nice and clear, and the album is called Stronger, fine. But what's this? On closer inspection there's a kind of subscript under the word 'stronger' seemingly designed solely for the benefit of amoebas or protozoic lifeforms, and it reads thusly - 'withEach Tear'. Thanks Blige - Stronger withEach Tear looks absolutely stupid and you've given me eye strain.

However - there's a sizeable portion of my album collection that features terrible cover art (mostly in the heavy metal genre) and I still dig the sounds, so let's judge this on the music. 'Tonight' starts off promisingly enough, with a grainy, pulsing Wu-Tang bassline overlain with a shimmering synthesizer borrowed from Fat Larry Band's 'Zoom'. I certainly like Blige's voice, and on this and subsequent track 'The One' it's manipulated with clever production to produce a range of interesting effects. Both are in a minor key and ride atop edgy, tricky beats, generating a skin-tightening tension that I really enjoyed.

It dips a bit on 'Said and Done', as a lubricious synth riff gives way to a fairly bland-sounding chorus; even so, the rather neat darkwave influences make it worthwhile. The next track is where everything turns to moose manure; 'Good Love' is an uptempo frothing fountain of piss, anchored by Club Tropicana brass and a guest verse from T.I. that did negative things to my I.Q. 'I Feel Good' can't be any worse, but it sounds like the Des'Ree / China Black collaboration that nobody asked for.

It becomes uncomfortably clear that on SwET, Blige is far more accomplished with the gritty, sultry or aggressive material than she is with the brighter, shinier gubbins. It's fair to say that the rest of the album plays out this way. Blige's voice is a thing of beauty, possessing clarity in full voice and a hint of bite when in declamatory mode. Her producers (and they are legion) have also used phasing and filtering effects intelligently; on 'I Luv U' for example, the combination is quite subtle, the mixture of natural and robotic voices turning the track into a tour-de-force of wind-tunnel techno-eroticism. It's the last truly great track on the album, but it's a cracker. Closing track 'I Can See In Color' comes close to greatness. Blige puts her full dynamic range on display out in front of the kind of downbeat heavy-lidded soul track that used to cook behind one of those characteristically gargantuan Isaac Hayes slow jams.

I can't say that I've become a fan of Mary J Blige since listening to SwET but I have become an admirer, albeit with qualifications. Blige is certainly a masterful singer, and with sympathetic material is absolutely capable of bashing out a masterpiece. The thing is, I don't know quite which direction would best serve Blige best. On the one hand, I'd love to hear a full album of her duking it out with Daft Punk in futuristic heaven; on the other hand, 'I Can See In Color' hints at the possibilities of Blige looking backwards and recording steamy, funky soul with the Swampers (or whatever their latter-day equivalent is) down at Muscle Shoals. With this much talent, it's perhaps hard to know which way to turn - which is also a reasonable summation of Stronger WithEach Tear (seriously, fuck this album title).

Balls To The Wall - Accept

Provenance: Bought this in preparation for an Udo Dirkschneider gig in May 2016, which was billed as his last time ever singing Accept material (beard on).

Review: I have a lingering affection for Germany, having spent some considerable time there in the early years of this century. Most of it was spent in Berlin. Waking up each morning I would turn on the radio, tuned to Spree FM, and waited for my morning dose of Depeche Mode. I was rarely disappointed. If the Basildon gloomsters failed to make an appearance I could always look forward to Phil Collins, such was the predictability of Spree FM.

I spun the dial this way and that in search of something with a bit more welly. No cigar. Germany has a strong rock and metal heritage but it seemed, at least in those days, that nobody was willing to give it an airing on the airwaves. Speaking to people, you got the impression that German rock was a bit of an embarrassment. Rammstein had a certain amount of cultural capital, but any mention of the Scorpions was likely to elicit a wry chuckle and a flippant remark about 'Winds of Change'. Fair enough, it's a shit song alright, but the Scorps had some great material and remain to this day a solid live act. Nobody knew who Accept were.

What a shame. During the 1980s Accept released a trilogy of brilliant albums, of which Balls To The Wall ranks at the forefront. I'll go one further as to say it was one of the best metal albums of the entire decade, by any band. Accept took the hard-driving metal template and twisted it around eminently hummable choruses. The production is crisp. It doesn't hurt that the title track is a true metal classic.

In addition, Accept had a secret weapon - vocalist Udo Dirkschneider. Along with Halford, Dio and Dickinson he was one of the decade's most distinctive singers, which is just as well as he w.as a strange looking character. Here he is wearing his Action Man pyjamas, demonstrating just why he was so important to the overall Accept sound. That razored larynx, permanently pitched between a snarl and a scream, gives the album an added element of aggression and helps to elevate Accept's primo output to the top tier of metal.

Dirkschneider's lacerating vocal style is first heard in the chorus to 'Balls To The Wall', a wonderful mid-paced prowler with a huge intro riff and numerous screech-along moments. 'London Leatherboys' sounds like Killing Machine era Judas Priest, it's fist-pump chorus simultaneously preposterous and irresistible. Elsewhere, 'Love Child' is a lacerating head-rush (and one of the few metal songs of the age to tackle the issue of sexuality) whilst 'Winter Dreams' is a stately, strangely affecting conclusion to the album that transports the listener to Udo's own personal alpine fantasyland.

Yet it's an inescapable fact that this album is also pretty funny, due in no small part to the less-than-fluent English deployed throughout. Commercial realities meant that Accept needed to sing in English if they were to entertain any notion of success outside of their home territory. One of my favourite lines in the entirety of recorded music occurs early on, when Dirkschneider mutters "let's plug a bomb in everyone's ass. 'London Leatherboys' is a hot cut fresh from the Tower of Babel, its title alone veering dangerously into Tobias Funke territory. 'Head Over Heels' manage to sound both incomprehensible and perverse at the same time.

What the fuck, though. I couldn't write a song in German. It's all rather churlish to make fun when the music is so bloody excellent. I had the good fortune of seeing Udo Dirkschneider in London this year playing Accept songs for the final time (or so he says). That a large swathe of Balls To The Wall got an airing is testament to the popularity and durability of this release. When his band played 'Balls To The Wall' the crowd went nuts. I went nuts. An essential part of any serious metaller's collection.

Outsider Lounge Music - Captain Luke and Cool John Ferguson

Provenance: Saw an excellent documentary on the Music Maker Relief Foundation about the work they do helping musicians from the American South. From paying utilities bills to getting the performers back on stage, they do a lot of good work. They're nice people to boot - so go help them out!

Review: I first caught sight of the charismatic Captain Luke in the superb documentary Toot Blues, profiled as one of a group of musicians who have been assisted by the Music Maker Relief Foundation. Amidst a slew of great performances, a real stand out for me was the Captain's rendition of 'Rainy Night in Georgia'. The fact that this CD contained another Tony Joe White number, the immortal 'Polk Salad Annie', helped to swing my decision to make the purchase.

There is always a sense of trepidation when approaching an album such as this. What if it's terrible? Perhaps even worse, what if I'm only left with the traces and fragments of the artist's talent, hints at the man's former gifts peering through sporadically as a faded palimpsest? After all, Captain Luke was in his mid-seventies when this was recorded, a time when most people are well into their retirement. In addition, it seems especially cruel to criticise such a worthy endeavour - buying an album from the foundation isn't about generating royalties or exposure, but it could mean an extra bag of groceries for somebody who's fallen on hard times.

Thank goodness, then, that 'Outsider Lounge Music' not only comes up to snuff but exceeds all expectations. From front to back this album is an utter joy. The foundations of this recording are rock-solid, from the immaculate song selection to the unfussy production, but there are two stand-out elements that really make the album shine.

The first is Captain Luke himself, or rather his wonderful, warm baritone, full of personality and an understated authority. Although he performs admirably on jaunty numbers such as 'Old Black Buck' (a Captain Luke composition) and 'Put On Your Red Dress', it's on the ballads where he really sparkles. Luke is nothing less than a master at tackling the slower numbers, his voice tinged with tenderness, sadness and regret. Nowhere is this better exhibited than on the aforementioned 'Rainy Night in Georgia' and the doleful 'Still Water', a song redolent of lonely Southern nights.

The second factor that pushes this album into the higher echelons is the masteful guitar playing of Cool John Ferguson. The listener is left with the impression that Ferguson can play pretty much anything he's minded to. He brings a welcome jazz sensibility to the slower numbers, evoking George  Benson and Wes Montgomery amongst others. When the tempo rises, Ferguson demonstrates a busy picking style underscored with impeccable technique and inventiveness. Although ostensibly accompaniment to Luke, on 'Polk Salad Annie' its the singer who anchors the song, Ferguson scurrying around the vocal with some breakneck bluesy improvisation.

'Outsider Lounge Music' is a potent brew of soul, blues and jazz, performed with evident vim and relish. A fine achievement for anyone, but it's almost disgustingly good considering that Captain Luke was crafting this fine testimony at a time where most others are content to trade on former glories.

Welcome to Swinetunes

Hello!

A while ago my partner suggested that I should do something with my album collection. I chose to ignore 'throw it in the trash' and instead plumped for reviewing every CD I own. I have no idea quite how many CDs I have, nor am I of a disposition to care. All I know is that month on month the number grows whilst our apartment remains the same size.

Here are a few caveats:

• I make no claims to be a great writer. The reflections here are mine alone, or relate to the things   that are important to me. If I go off on a seemingly irrelevant tangent, please deal with it or go somewhere else
• I won't try and psychoanalyse every last semibreve or inhalation of air. Sometimes I will talk about individual tracks, sometimes I may focus on the album as a whole
• Four star album? An eight out of ten? I can't think of a more asinine way to describe music, save for writing about it. This blog will probably contain enough stupid without me ascribing a star rating to an album
• I'm pretty lazy, so don't be dismayed if I don't add anything for a while. I'm probably asleep or watching University Challenge

What do I want out of this? Fundamentally, I want to enthuse people about music. I'm not solely talking about the music I love (though that would be great), but for readers to think of music as more than just a statement or something to be traded off as cultural capital. Sit back and enjoy, or bang your head furiously - I'll be doing one or the other.