From ultimateclassicrock.com on Aldo Nova 2.0:

Guitarist and songwriter Aldo Nova, whose 1981 hit “Fantasy” was an early MTV staple, is returning to action, with a new album, 2.0, that will hit stores Oct. 19.

The record consists of new re-recordings of six tracks from his debut record (including “Fantasy”) and one new song, “I’m a Survivor.” The new album is Aldo’s first since 1997’s largely instrumental record Nova’s Dream.

The idea for re-recording some of his earliest recorded work came to Nova as he passed a milestone birthday.

“When I turned 60, I told myself I was going to turn the page,” he said in a press release announcing the album. “I realized I had to shut the book and write a completely new book.

“With 2.0, my goal has already been achieved, as far as I’m concerned,” he continued. “I wanted to beat [my debut] to death. The second thing is to reintroduce my music to the old fans, and play to a new generation of fans who just developed an interest. I don’t think that young generation has heard music like this ever before. I’m on top of my game now. I’m ready for it.”

While making the record, tragedy struck Nova, providing him with perspective and focus.

“During the time that I was working on 2.0, my wife was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer,” he explained. “I managed to finish the album right before she passed away on Christmas Day. I still was able to take care of every doctor’s appointment, every chemo treatment. I was cooking and cleaning and at night I worked on my album.”

Nova has not announced plans for to tour in support of 2.0.

Buy This Album Now

From getreadytorock.me.uk on Tattooed On My Brain:

Scottish classic rock legends Nazareth celebrate their 50th anniversary with their 24th studio album, their first without original vocalist Dan McCafferty. The new line-up, featuring new singer Carl Sentence (ex Don Airey, Krokus, many others), guitarist Jimmy Murrison, drummer Lee Agnew and original bassist and founder member Pete Agnew, are hitting the road to promote this marvellous new album, their first for Frontiers, and it also coincides with the Loud & Proud mammoth box set.

Formed in 1968 (from the ballroom cover band The Shaddettes), the original line-up featured guitarist Manny Charlton and drummer Darrell Sweet alongside Pete and Dan. A few changes of guitarist, including the addition of guitarists Zal Cleminson and Billy Rankin, with keyboard players John Locke and Ronnie Leahy passing through the ranks. Sadly Darrell Sweet died in 1999, and Dan McCafferty’s health forced retirement.

The work with Dan’s immediate replacement, Linton Osborne, is sadly glossed over. But if you don’t own Razamanaz, Rampant or even No Mean City, you’re seriously missing out. ‘Bad Bad Boy’, ‘Broken Down Angel’ and ‘Love Hurts’ are all radio and live staples (although the latter I wish they’d drop).

So to the new album. The opening track ‘Never Dance With The Devil’ is a great start, there’s a very decent riff. But I do have to issue the spoiler alert – don’t go expecting the classic or traditional Nazareth sound. It’s 2018 and the band have come along way since Razamanaz, line-up changes or otherwise.

The post-Boogaloo (1998) albums I found a little dry, here the band’s new line-up are cutting a new identity. Carl’s upper vocal range is good, solid, and quite clean – a far cry from the whiskey-soaked McCafferty years.

The title track is even further removed from the sound many fans will be used to – the guitar sound and riff are both verging on punky or early 80s new wave. Don’t get me wrong it’s a great track, it really does rock, and there’s a punky catchiness too. Over the riff there’s a decent guitar solo too.

In a confused way, the guitar intro to ‘State Of Emergency’ works better than expected. A hint of an AC/DC twiddle and a serious nod to Girlschool, the rhythms and riffs work well. Just what a rocker wants from a modern take on classic rock. More balladic is ‘Rubik’s Romance’, more country rock without all the strumming. Very melodic and radio friendly. Not as slow as your typical Naz ballad, a nod back to Sound Elixir.

More rocking is ‘Pole To Pole’, that’s had an airing already, a touch of a Naz/AC/DC crossover. Again Pete and Jimmy combine well. ‘Push’ is an all too rare nod back to the blues that the band did so well in the early and mid 70s, something that’s been lacking for too long. A little moody, and I’m not sure it’s totally suited by the vocal phrasing, but still a good and solid feel. ‘Don’t Throw Your Love Away’ has a hint of 80s bluesy glam (think Cinderella), but with a dirty Zeppelin-esque edge.

The tracks here are written (or at least credited) individually, which is rare compared to the historical 4 or 5 way credit. That did lead to tracks going off-piste got Nazified. There’s a little less evidence of that here, but that doesn’t detract from the quality of the songs. And it’s great to see Pete write a couple of songs, including the very gentle and mellow closer ‘You Call Me’, on which he handles the vocals. More acoustic, it brings things down nicely, and a song I will return to.

I’ll admit it is a lot more different to what I expected, but there are some excellent tracks here.

I know this is a bit cliché, but it’s either an excellent album, just not Nazareth, or an excellent album for a very different Nazareth. I’ll let you decide, but it’s still well worth checking out.

Razamanaz or No Mean City it isn’t, and I’d never expect (or want) it to be anyway. That was then this is now. Nazareth are still rocking, and given that Pete’s still up there playing his arse off to this (still high) ability, I feel proud to have known him, interviewed him and worked with him. Actually, in places, it’s an excellent listen.

Buy This Album Now

From folkradio.co.uk on The Eclipse Sessions:

Four years on from his double Grammy nominated Terms of My Surrender, John Hiatt returns with an album that pares it down to basics, recorded primarily as a trio with bassist Patrick O’Hearn and Kenneth Blevins on drums augmented here and there by producer Kevin McKendree on organ and his teenage son, Yates, contributing additional guitar and engineering.  Taking its title from the fact that the August eclipse took place during the six days they were in McKendree’s studio, it slides between Hiatt’s staple genres, country and country blues, opening on the latter with the strum-a-long lope of Cry To Me, his warm, rough husk offering a shoulder  for heartbroken girls whose feelings have been trampled on by errant lovers, but treading into darker waters as he muses:

I Wonder why love is always looking for its own ghost
Or is that just what hurt people do
Find the ones who injured them the utmost
Practically beg ‘em to make their dreams come true

He maintains a similar rhythm and pacing, but ups the electric guitar work, for All The Way To The River, another dark lyric, this time about a woman driving through the night to commit suicide, though, if you want to be more optimistic, maybe it’s about her quitting New York that’s destroyed her soul and heading home to Nashville.

Shaded with just hints of organ, the acoustic Aces Up Your Sleeve is a simple wearied reflection on loss (“I don’t know if our love means anything anymore”) and change (“there’s no light on the barroom floors where you swept them all off their feet”) and then it’s into the first of the two funkier, more muscular cuts with the bluesy shuffle of an unreliable lover’s confession that he’s a Poor Imitation Of God. The other is the penultimate One Stiff Breeze, a rocking blast of a number that put me in mind of early Graham Parker & The Rumour.

Romance takes quite a battering here, emotional numbness in the aftermath of a relationship consumes the gruffly sung mid-tempo Nothing In My Heart (a thematic cousin to You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away) while the choppier organ bolstered blues Over the Hill has him feeling his age (he’s actually only just turned 66) and there’s no time left for screw-ups, that “we’ll have to place our bets/On the dog with no regrets.”

On the upside, however, sung falsetto with a steady guitar riff, Outrunning My Soul is a chugging Memphis soul number playfully asking a lover to slow down a bit so he can keep up.

Strapping on the baritone guitar, Hide Your Tears is one of the moments when Hiatt and Prine coalesce, a reflection on wreckage left behind, of stories left untold that turns to thoughts of mortality, this time how “a man tries to outrun his death/Or a broken heart runs out of breath.”

With the younger McKendree on slide, The Odds of Loving You is old school acoustic Delta blues, before, pitching camp in Townes van Zandt’s backyard, the album ends with the Texicana waltzing Robber’s Highway, another number informed by world-weary thoughts of mortality and of time taking things away and the sun going down on life,  the sense of resignation and defeat achingly summed up in the chorus plea “Come and get me, Jesus/I don’t know/Come and get me cause I can’t go.”

To these ears, it’s his best work since Crossing Muddy Waters back in 2000, so, no, Jesus take a rain check, he most certainly can’t go yet.

Buy This Album Now

From pitchfork.com on Look Now:

More than a decade ago, Elvis Costello suggested his recording career may be over. “I’m not of a mind to record anymore,” he told Mojo. “There’s no point… In terms of recorded music, the pact’s been broken—the personal connection between the artist and the listener. [The] MP3 has dismantled the intended shape of an album.” For a spell, it seemed Costello was making good on that promise. After 2010’s sprawling National Ransom, he effectively retired from the studio, resurfacing only for Wise Up Ghost, a collaboration with the Roots that they actually initiated. Earlier this year, Costello revealed he survived a bout with a “small but very aggressive” cancer, so his return to the studio for the sumptuous Look Now, his first album with the Imposters in 10 years, is especially welcome.

Costello stayed busy throughout the past decade, pouring his energy into themed-based shows, whether reviving his Spectacular Spinning Songbook after a quarter-century or transforming his memoir into a solo tour that partly played as an homage to his dear departed dad. Just last year, he and the Imposters—the name he gave to the Attractions after dismissing perpetual pest and bassist, Bruce Thomas—celebrated the 35th anniversary of Imperial Bedroom, the 1982 album where Costello’s sophisticated songcraft really flowered.

During this self-imposed studio exile, Costello continued to write, something he proved with new songs during each tour. He kept his eye on the other sort of stage, too. He had two theatrical projects in the hopper with Burt Bacharach—one based on their 1998 album, Painted From Memory, the other a new concept—and toiled away on a musical adaptation of A Face in the Crowd. None of these came to fruition, due to the complexities of Broadway financing, but their pieces are, in part, the fodder for Look Now.

Imposters drummer Pete Thomas cobbled a few of the demos Costello had sent into a playlist, modeling it after Dusty Springfield’s sultry 1969 classic, Dusty in Memphis. Intrigued by the sequencing, Costello began to fashion an album from these homeless tunes and stray songs, poaching from his unfinished musicals and rifling through his cupboards of compositions. Echoing Momofuku, the 2008 album that marks the last time Costello recorded with the Imposters, Look Now plays at first like a simple set of songs that eschews grand concepts for immediacy.

Despite their statliness, these tunes are startlingly direct, both emotionally and melodically. They carry only the vaguest air of Costello’s signature cleverness and no trace of anger. Opener “Under Lime” is Costello’s explicit sequel to “Jimmie Standing in the Rain,” a 2010 tale of a down-on-his-luck cowboy crooner. “Under Lime” chronicles a dark backstage exchange between the washed-up singer and a young female intern. It’s a dazzling tune, a miniature five-minute musical where the dexterous arrangement matches wordplay so witty that the title’s lime comes to represent alcohol, stage lights, and the grave. It suggests the arrival of a rich, audacious song cycle. But the rest of Look Now proceeds at a gentler, empathetic pace, lingering upon the bittersweet plights of their protagonists—usually women, always etched with kindness—instead of rushing toward a conclusion.

These details abound because this material had an unusually long gestation. “Suspect My Tears,” a gorgeous ballad that functions as a showcase for all the melodic tricks Costello learned from Bacharach, first aired during a 1999 duo tour between Costello and pianist Steve Nieve. Costello revived “Unwanted Number”—a sensitive girl-group pastiche written from the perspective of a teenager dealing with an undesired pregnancy—from a 1996 film loosely based on Carole King’s time writing at the Brill Building. He penned “Burnt Sugar Is So Bitter,” a densely layered confection, with King herself around the same time. Rather than forming a patchwork, these disparate origins inspire a surprisingly cohesive album, as they follow a distinct, deliberate point of view—lush, complex, and proudly mature, music that champions tradition while shunning nostalgia.

As a collection of tunes, Look Now is a triumph for Costello, a showcase for how he can enliven a mastery of form with a dramatist’s eye. But as an album, Look Now is a success because of the Imposters. Unlike Imperial Bedroom or Painted By Memory, the focus isn’t studio trickery or strings but rather the lean muscle of a band who has spent decades following their leader’s every whim. They are a sharp, supple outfit that can swing and sigh, sometimes within the same number, as when they effortlessly pivot between bossa nova verses and a radiant chorus during “Why Won’t Heaven Help Me?” This subtle sophistication and palpable flair make Look Now more than a mere set of songs—it’s a record worth getting lost within.

Buy This Album Now

From bloody-good-music.blogspot.com on Hurry Up & Hang Around:

Blues Traveler has always been a band that lets their sound, travel, if you will. Along the winding path of their career, the one constant has been change. “Save His Soul” sounded nothing like “Four”, which sounded nothing like “Truth Be Told”, which sounded nothing like “Blow Up The Moon”. They have always been chasing something, but what exactly that is has always been nebulous. In the beginning, the strove for respect. Then they strove for the status they deserved. Then they strove to regain their place. And finally, they strove to make themselves happy. That leaves us with a string of records that hold together, but form a patchwork that draws your attention to a different area each time. And even when they are taking a detour that might not be your choice, there are always interesting twists that make it worth your while to take the ride with them.

With the band having reached a milestone of longevity, the question of how to commemorate that brings them back (nearly) full circle. While their last couple records have seen Blues Traveler injecting their sound with pop songwriters in the search for the perfect collaboration, “Hurry Up & Hang Around” finds them stripping back to the garage band they started out as. This is the most classically Blues Traveler album they have made, in approach, in many a year.

Our first taste of this chapter came from the opening track, “Accelerated Nation”, which came out of the gates in traditional Blues Traveler form. Sounding like a mix of all their eras, the song fused their classic sound with the polished writing of their modern work, giving us a song that fits the same mold “Most Precarious” did (and sadly never got credit for – that was a better single than it is remembered as).

Longtime fans will recognize bits and pieces that should evoke a smile, like how John Popper’s melody in the verses of “She Becomes My Way” stretches a syllable or two longer than anyone else would write it. Those are the details that I have always appreciated, both as a fan and as a songwriter. Every writer and every band has idiosyncrasies that pop up, which I think got too smoothed out with the amount of collaboration they had been doing lately. Even when they were writing great songs, like “Matador” was, they didn’t have those trademark elements. Hearing them again is a treat.

Another one pops up on “Daddy Went A Giggin'”, where Popper’s melody in the verses, and some of the feel of the instrumental, is somewhat pulled from his solo album, “Zygote” (the song “His Own Hands” in particular). The songwriting on this record is a throwback to the “Four” and “Straight On Til Morning” period, but more concise than they were back then. The band has been constantly trimming away the excess from their old tendencies, which leaves us with a lean record. Old fans might think there’s a looseness missing from the recordings, but it shows how their focus has shifted over the years towards sharp songwriting.

The thing about being a Blues Traveler fan is that we can argue over which of their experiments are our favorites. Some of us will love how gritty and heavy they got on “Bastardos!”, while others will appreciate the slickness of “Truth Be Told”. This one, though, feels like the right record for an anniversary period, because it is the one record since “Four” that best captures every side of the band.

Given how much the world has changed since “Run Around” and “Hook” were near the top of the charts, it’s a good decision that the band is no longer trying to chase a hit, and is instead writing music that is befitting of their status. There are clover hooks and strong melodies, but they integrate into the core of the band’s sound, rather than sounding like the token attempt to appeal to a demographic that no longer exists. Look, I love “Girl Inside My Head” and “Amber Awaits” too, but even then there no longer existed the proper outlet for them to become mainstream hits.

“Hurry Up & Hang Around” is a record made for Blues Traveler fans by the biggest fans of them all, the band. At this stage of their career, that’s exactly what most people want to hear. And listening to the results, I can’t argue. This record will make any Blues Traveler fan happy, and it will reset things so the next experiment is more welcome.

Buy This Album Now

From spillmagazine.com on Decade:

As a solo artist, Dave Davies is one of the most prolific artists of all time. Much like George Harrison, who happened to be in a band with a famous songwriting duo, Davies was in a band with his brother who dominated The Kinks albums. So it is no wonder that Davies accumulated a backlog of songs. Sure he got one or two per album, but Decade is evidence that not only was he constantly writing, but also recording. After he released four brilliant singles from 1967 to 1969, Davies seemed to put his solo career on the back burner, not even completing his album he started in 1968 (the songs eventually came out on various complications and even Kinks B-sides, but if you are interested in this album, check out Hidden Treasures, 2011). Decade represents songs that Davies was working on from 1970 until the release of his first official solo album, AFL1-3603 (known as Dave Davies in the U.K. as the title was the American RCA catalogue number). The songs were reportedly found and salvaged by Davies sons, Simon and Martin, and I must say they have done an excellent job with these tapes. To be clear, these songs are not rough demos of songs from AFL1-3603, but previously unreleased gems.

While Ray Davies was focusing on concept albums and ‘rock operas’, Dave was apparently focusing on the individual song. Many of these songs would have made excellent singles (“Give You All My Love” comes to mind) and others would not be out of place on Kinks albums throughout the 1970’s, Dave has crafted each song beautifully. Give the instrumentals (“The Journey” and “Shadows”) a listen. These songs are near perfect and “Shadows” would have been nice on the Misfits  album (1978),  but The Kinks loss is Dave Davies’s gain as it sounds brilliant on this album.

The songs are straight ahead rock songs, ranging from hard rock to pop and all stops in between. Dave has a distinct writing style and he is able to elevate a rocking blues song to a whole new level, as in “Mystic Woman”. Let’s face it, he is one of the greatest rock guitarists of all time, so the songs are full of awesome guitar work from Mr. Davies.

I am truly glad his sons found these songs, and I am even more happy that Davies decided to craft an album out of these songs.For songs recorded years apart, there is remarkable consistency and cohesiveness to the album. And although it is of its time, it still sounds current and fresh.

Fans should be lining up for this album. Davies has put together a remarkably strong album, one that will sit nicely alongside Hidden Treasures, which was mainly his 1960’s material. Now is a good time to reevaluate this artist. He has released some fine solo albums and the time is right to appreciate his work. Decade is a stunning album, and for the uninitiated a pretty good place to start the examination of this brilliant artist.

Buy This Album Now

From popmatters.com on Cloud Symbols:

Most of us live in a world where electronics have become a quotidian part of our mundane daily existence. This is especially true of the smartphone. Check out the animated video for Moby & The Void Pacific Choir’ “Are You Lost in the World Like Me” for a dark social take on this scenario. Or you could put down your smartphone and look around? Depending on where you are, you will see what I mean. Graham Parker keenly observes his own emotions and the behaviors of those around him. He knows if he needs to know the weather conditions, all he has to do is check an app. While we can get more accurate information quicker than ever before, there is something lost. Instead of using our senses, we abstract ourselves from experience. We live a mediated existence.

The title of Cloud Symbols comes from the narrator looking at the weather report on his phone. “Is the Sun Out Anywhere”, he asks sadly. He looks and sees rain everywhere, Rome, Paris, in his love’s heart. The cloud icons represent his melancholy state of mind. This detail suggests the pettiness of the protagonist. He may shed a few tears, but he finds his heartache comforting. He doesn’t feel deeply, which makes him an even sadder person in Parker’s view. As Parker fans know, “Passion is no ordinary word.” Ironically, instead of feeling sorry for the protagonist he finds him a bit of a jerk who plays with his phone instead of living a more authentic life.

And none of this would matter if Parker didn’t have such an interesting, soulful voice. Something is compelling about the way he sings that makes everything he croons sound important. Parker doesn’t offer pronouncements in the traditional way. It’s more like he’s that person at the bar who pays for your drinks without any expectation except you listen to his stories. And they’re good stories. He’s ably backed by the Goldtops (Martin Belmont, Geraint Watkins, Simon Edwards and Roy Dodds) and accompanied by the Rumour Brass on six tracks. They are the jukebox that plays in the background that enhances the atmosphere.

Parker originally conceived Cloud Symbols as “conceptually consistent album” when tragedy struck in the middle of its recording as its engineer/producer Neil Brockbank died suddenly of cancer. With the help of one of Brockbank’s assistants, Tuck Nelson, Parker finished recording the album, which is dedicated to Brockbank. It’s difficult to discern common themes on the surface level of these tunes, such as the rollicking ode to intoxication “Bathtub Gin” to the coyly crude “Brushes” (re: “I love to eat the oyster around the pearl / I love to eat the meat around the pearl” may be the strangest metaphor about cunnilingus in recent times) to the sweet tribute when “Love Comes”. What ties them together is Parker’s biases towards strong feelings and the desire for genuine involvement. Perhaps the fact of Brockbank’s death heightened these existential emotions.

That doesn’t mean one has to go out, get drunk, and howl at the moon—although I doubt Parker would object to that behavior. Sometimes it means spending “Every Saturday Night” alone and mooning for a lost love. If that’s the way one feels, don’t go out and fake it. Even “Dreamin'” is better. Or as he creatively puts it, “Streamin’ yes I’m streamin’, cuz video is something demeanin'” — i.e.: feel it in the here and now instead of archiving it in the back of one’s mind. That’s what he’s always preached. After 24 studio albums Parker is still singing the same song, but like a good whiskey he retains his character and is worth coming back to for more.

Buy This Album Now