From nme.com on Egypt Station:

You have to admire Paul McCartney’s work ethic. He’s a man with nothing to prove. Zero. His art has shaped the world we live in. He’s 76 years old. He’s one of a handful of bona fide music legends still standing. And yet here he is, putting it on the line again, not worrying about his legacy or resting on his laurels. ‘Egypt Station’ is his 17th post-Beatles album; he doesn’t need the money or the adulation, which only leaves compulsion to keep making music – and that’s an impulse worth applauding, because it’s easily lost.

This year has seen McCartney indulging in nostalgia, revisiting Abbey Road and The Cavern, and popping up in his old Liverpool haunts on the Carpool Karaoke charabanc. On ‘Egypt Station’, a title that itself rings with the breezy Edward Lear nonsense beloved of The Beatles, McCartney does the same, musically, taking us on a tour de force of his own career.

The thunderous opening of ‘People Want Peace’ (“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m standing before you with something important to say,” it begins) recalls the title track of ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’. The bossa nova bop of ‘Back In Brazil’ speaks to his love of borrowing from other cultures. ‘Do It Now’ is baroque pop in the ‘In My Life’ vein. ‘Who Cares’ sounds like ‘Band On The Run’-era Wings, a swaggering rock ‘n’ roll with a sweetly naive message about getting one over on bullies. It has the feeling of a pep talk from a beloved granddad: “Who cares what the idiots say / Who cares what the idiots do / Who cares about the pain in your heart / Who cares? I do.”

McCartney’s been preaching peace and love for an entire career, and the message hasn’t diminished over the years. But there’s an extra edge to it this time. ‘Fuh You’, a track co-written with hit-maker Ryan Tedder (though surely if there’s a man who doesn’t need a co-write, it’s Macca) is eyebrow-raisingly randy. ‘Come On To Me’, another track released to tease the album, is plonky in sound, but bonky in lyrics: “I saw you flash a smile that seemed to me to say / You wanted so much more than casual conversation,” it goes. Paul
McCartney, by design or accident, has made an album that occasionally pulses with Big Dick Energy, the term that defined summer 2018’s zeitgeist, even if it pops a comfy pair of slippers occasionally too.

Mostly, ‘Egypt Station’ is a record that’s going to delight McCartney’s fans and – importantly – Beatles fans who might sniff at some of his solo work. It’s not wildly out there, like his work as The Fireman, but nor does it err on the safe side, like 2013’s ‘New’. It’s an album of upbeat and winsome notes, and it’s simple and honest, as if one of the most famous people in the world has left his diary open for us to read.

‘Happy With You’ talks about just what the title implies – being happy in the company of his partner, with personal revelations too: “I walked around angry / I used to feel bad… I used to drink too much / Forgot to come home / I lied to my doctor”. That song, and ‘Confidante’, reveal much about McCartney, the latter a love letter to the guitar he keeps in the corner of his living room, which went largely untouched for a couple of years before ‘Egypt Station’ came into being. Those tracks, in particular, preach a satisfying message of peace: one of peace in the mind of the songwriter.

The album ends, like ‘Abbey Road’, on a medley: ‘Hunt You Down/Naked/C-Link’. We don’t need to remind you of ‘Abbey Road’’s famous closing lines, but ‘Egypt Station’s are notable too: “I‘ve been naked for so long / So long, so long, yeah.” McCartney’s always been about inclusivity and openness, but this latest glimpse into his life feels like a particularly enlightening one.

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From soulandjazzandfunk.com on These Days:

‘These Days’ is Paul Carrack’s 17th solo album and though the 11 tracker is unmistakably the “sound of Carrack” that sound is a wee bit different. The first difference that long-time followers will notice is that there are no covers here. Unlike Paul’s more recent album outings which featured fab versions of stuff like ‘When My Little Girl Is Smiling’, ‘I’m Losing You’ (the Brenda Lee song, not the Temptations), ‘If Loving You Is Wrong’, ‘You Don’t Know Me’ and ‘Share Your Love With Me’, everything on ‘These Days’ is original. Secondly, for five of those originals, Paul has collaborated with Chris Difford. The pair, of course, have history. They worked together in prime time Squeeze an on a number of the tunes here there’s a definite Squeezy flavour – most notably on ‘Life In A Bubble’ – a reflective piece that wonders why so many of us become preoccupied with our trivial “first world” problems while the “second” and “third” worlds face monumental issues and problems.

‘In The Cold Light Of Day’ is a little different too. Here the soundscape is country-rock… more Nashville than the cities (Chicago, Detroit?) that spawned Paul’s early influences. On the LP title track the musical mood has a gentle Caribbean flavour… not quite reggae, but going in that direction. The musical message here, by the way, is to appreciate what we have while we have it. Mr C is becoming more and more philosophical in old age! (Whisper it – he’s 67!)

‘You Make Me Feel Good’ takes us back to what Paul’s best-known for – “blue-eyed” soul – the southern variety on this one. Brash and bold, the track features top flight brass, marshalled by no less a horn man that Pee Wee Ellis. Ellis’ brass arrangements are a highlight throughout the album. They grace the opening, ‘Amazing’… a classic slice of Paul Carrack; melodic, harmonic, polished, thoughtful, proper grown-up music. The gentler ‘Dig Deep’, ‘The Best I Could’ (Celtic echoes on this?) and ‘Where Does The Time Go’ merit the same adjectives as too does the swinging, Steely Dan-flavoured ‘Perfect Storm’. Maybe it’s a coincidence but the drummer on this one (and throughout the album) is Becker/Fagen alumnus, Steve Gadd.

So yes, ‘These Days’ has plenty of what you’d expect from a Paul Carrack album yet also offers some subtle surprises. As ever, what holds it all together is the Carrack voice (little wonder he’s dubbed “the man with the Golden Voice”) and the obvious joy and love with which Paul works. Share that joy and love when he takes to the road again in the new year. His annual tour begins on 18th January in Liverpool’s Philharmonic Hall, and ends on 24th March at The Lowry in Salford.

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From crypticrock.com on Lightsleeper:

In the annals of Art Rock, New Wave, Sophistipop, and Pop music in general, the name Neil Finn has become a household name. For one, he and his brother Tim Finn were members of the New Zealand-based band Split Enz (“Six Months in a Leaky Boat”), which operated from 1972 to 1984; after which Neil relocated to Melbourne, Australia, where he formed Crowded House (“Don’t Dream It’s Over”). When Crowded House broke up in 1996, Neil embarked on a solo career that rendered four solo releases. And then, in 2018, Neil and his eldest son, Liam Finn—who himself has three albums under his belt—joined forces to come up with their debut album.

Titled Lightsleeper, Neil & Liam Finn’s first offering is scheduled to come out on Friday, August 24, 2018, on Pias America. It still bears the breezy, Folk Pop predilection of the two’s respective works, but it is also marked by a more ambient and contemplative direction, reminiscent of some of Crowded House’s acoustic-oriented ballads.

Lightsleeper opens with the chirpy, ’60s-inspired piano-drenched Pop of “Prelude – Island of Peace,” which sounds relaxingly like a The 5th Dimension throwback (“One Less Bell to Answer”). The same slow tempo, introspective sentiment ensues in the form of “Meet Me in the Air,” thriving on the father-and-son’s dreamy melodies and spirit-lifting falsettos. Pulsing next in a loungy Electro-Folk implosion is “Where’s My Room?,” enough to send the listener to a subtle, slow-motion, head-bobbing terpsichorean experience.

The subtly orchestrated “Anger Plays a Part” is yet another trek down memory lane; but this time, to the pensive moments of Crowded House—think of a wetter version of “Four Seasons in One Day.” Neil and Liam then turn sonically seductive with the Ambient/Lounge Pop of “Listen,” “Any Other Way,” and Back to Life.” The mood turns even much deeper, reflective, and more rustic with the soulful, starry-eyed, light Jazz–sprinkled “Hiding Place.”

Father and son then go more experimental with “Ghosts” – bluesy, folksy, psychedelic, and dancey. Nearing the end of the light sleep, Neil and Liam summon their inner Beatles sensibilities or even their McCartney tendencies, as “We Know What It Means” sways so smoothly back to the late ’60s somber temperaments of the Fabulous Four (“Black Bird”) and the more adventurous excursion of McCartney and his Wings into Baroque Pop (“Little Lamb Dragonfly”).

Finally, Neil and Liam—with a little help from the rest of their family: wife Sharon on bass, occasionally; and younger son Elroy on drums on several tracks—finish off Lightsleeper with the slow, strummy, plucky, shimmering ballad “Hold Her Close”—nostalgic, heartrending, meditative—a perfect endnote to a shared expedition to vast musical landscapes.

With his prolific body of works, Neil has long proven his flair for expansive songwriting. His son Liam, on the other hand, despite his relatively young career, has already shown great promise. This first collaborative venture of the loving tandem simply adds feathers to their respective, impressive musical caps. CrypticRock gives Lightsleeper 4 out of 5 stars.

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From twangrila.com on Living In Reverse:

When this album came across my desk, I immediately went back to 1981 in Baltimore. November in 1981, Crack The Sky played four sold out shows at Painters Mill Music Fair. The event was sponsored by 98 Rock and it was an extravaganza. I went to one of the shows and it was a major musical event. I still remember that show so fondly. 

I know now that Crack The Sky is from West Virginia, but for years I thought they were a local Baltimore band. There are still people to this day who think Crack The Sky is from Baltimore. They used to play all the local haunts at least once a year for a run. That includes clubs like the iconic Hammerjacks.

That Crack The Sky logo with the lightning bolt was one of the most copied logos in Maryland between the years of 1978 through 1986.  I tried to copy that logo on my notebook maybe a million times, but I never got it quite right. I never gave up hope and kept trying to perfect that logo to no avail. If you had one of the black baseball shirts with the white Crack The Sky on it, you were definitely a music aficionado.

I hope that gives you all the sense of what Crack The Sky means to this area and what they have meant to me over the years. That was then, this is now. The old adage, “what have you dome for me lately?” comes into play. The bottom line is this, does this album rock? This is their 20th studio album and let me assure you, IT ROCKS! I have listened to this album already half a dozen times and I could listen 20 more times and not get bored.

All of the 12 songs on this collection are really solid. That includes the writing, vocals, instrumentation, production, and mix. I guess you can call this “prog rock” if you want. I don’t consider this prog because their songs are not 15 minutes long with multiple parts. Their songs clock in at around four minutes each, not exactly what would be considered prog. But, Crack The Sky’s music definitely contains those chord progressions and transitions that would identify this as prog. They are not easy to define because their music is all encompassing and draws from many influences.

If I have to pick a favorite track right out of the gate, I would have to pick I’m On The Radio, Mom (Track 7). This song is catchy as hell and is about the first time the band heard their song on the radio. It is infectious as all get out. Not only are the writing and vocals pristine, they add elements such as clapping and backing vocals that take this song from normal to off the charts. Just listen to that blazing guitar on this track. They are masters at taking unusual sounds and incorporating them into songs.

Let’s hold that last thought about using unusual sounds and melodies. It applies perfectly to the very next track Jacket (Track 8). This song has elements of electronic dance music and industrial. Crack The Sky are masters at synthesis and fusion. They could be the mad scientists of the music world. I mean that is the most complimentary way possible. Clearly, these guys push the envelope when it comes to crafting a song. This song proves that rule.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the beauty of the title track Living In Reverse (Track 2). This song is a quintessential pop song in the vein of the fab four. Yes, this sounds like it could have easily been a Beatles’ song. The three or four part harmonies is what makes this song incredibly special. The title is very appropriate and can apply to anyone. I often feel like I am living life in reverse. In fact, a good friend of mine regularly tell me that I am living life in reverse. To me, that means that life is getting better and more exciting as I age. That’s my takeaway.

In closing, I want to encourage any music fan to go out and buy this release. Then, start filling in your Crack The Sky Collection with their other 19 albums, starting from release one and working upward. You will be glad you took my advice. Your music collection and ears will thank me.

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From rockandbluesmuse.com on High Water I:

Two years after debuting with a live album, The Magpie Salute will finally be releasing a new studio collection, High Water 1, August 10^th  via Mascot/Eagle Records. Band boss and former Black Crowe, Rich Robinson produced this one himself and turned to some  familiar faces as well as some new ones for assistance on this effort, and everyone delivered. Big.

Longtime fans will hear the solid and familiar bass of Sven Pipien and the slinky guitar stylings of Marc Ford blending effortlessly with Joe Magistro’s nearly telepathic drumming, Matt Slocum’s always emotional keyboard work and some truly remarkable vocals by John Hogg. I have no idea how long these guys spent in the studio, but the result is they all sound like they’ve been playing together for years.

“Mary the Gypsy” kicks off with a brief horn fanfare, a touch of showmanship announcing the arrival of some new kings, before immediately drawing you in with a beat that can only be described as throbbing. Next up, the title track “High Water” bounces in with a ripe and sunshiny taste of acoustic guitar-driven psychedelia, and the kind of subtle, but fully committed vocals from John Hogg that’ll make listeners say, “Chris who?” Of course, some comparisons to Robinson’s previous outfit are inevitable. For my money “Send Me an Omen” sounds the most like mid-career Black Crowes. For all its balls-out brashness though, this is a very thoughtfully produced tune, with the band handling tempo and tone changes with ease, taking you on that ride and finishing with backup vocals behind Rich’s insistent guitar and Hogg’s plaintive voice.

A sweet, full-minute long intro sets you up for a big switcheroo on “For The Wind.” But no one minds having the rug pulled out from under them in the name of some good, funky bombast. The band fills every available frequency on this tune and even touches on some Allman Brother’s mojo in the lead break. I can see this song turning into a long and lethal jam at some outdoor venue on a perfect Summer night.

The gears shift on “Sister Moon.” A  piano and drum intro sets you up for a melancholy walk in the moonlight that’ll pull at the memory of every lost love you’ve ever tried to forget. Hogg’s vocals, impressive again, manage to pull at your heartstrings as much as that mournful pedal steel, which is no easy trick. An acoustic guitar and some burbling flanged electric ease you into the quiet confessional observations and condemnations of “Color Blind.” Without raising their voices, or amps, the band steps up with a reminder that we could all do a lot better by each other.

I can bet you won’t find a single review of High Water I that doesn’t use the word “swaggering” to describe “Take It All.” A quick (only 3:24) blast of slide guitar-fueled rowdiness, bluster and stomp that camouflages a tender message: If you’re going to love me, promise to love me completely. Speaking of love, I get a George Harrison / Tom Petty vibe from stand-out track “Walk on Water.” Maybe it’s just me, but this tune has the lilt and hope of a Traveling Wilbury’s invitation to “step into the unknown” and join them on a journey of wonder and that might, or might not, include psilocybin. Loose handclaps and toe taps drive the rhythm of “Hand in Hand” a deceptively simple-sounding tune that gives Rich a chance to remind us that he doesn’t need a distortion box to sound amazing on guitar. Just when I was starting to wonder when a harmonica break might roll in, they added a piano to the front porch jam instead and it sounded just about right.

You’ll hear some pure Americana, bordering on Country when the weeping pedal steel returns to intro “You Found Me,” a tune made for slow dances and lingering glances, it is a thank-you note ode to love. Next up, “Can You See,” sounds like a bookend to “Color Blind,” as we find the band speaking their minds and having a point of view on the human condition that goes way beyond “let’s party,” even if the song itself is a sonic, head-bobbing party.

The album closes with the sinewy slither of “Open Up.” You have to admire a band that knows they’ve already had their say in the previous 11 tracks and they don’t feel a desperate need to finish big and loud. Instead they go for big and quiet and absolutely nail it with a final message of unity and love. Hear it. Feel it. Spread it.

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From popmatters.com on Out Of the Blues:

To casual listeners, Boz Scaggs is the American singer/songwriter who hit his stride in the mid-1970s with a series of gold- and platinum-selling releases on Columbia Records of which the two produced by Joe Wissert – Silk Degrees and Two Down Then Left – were exquisite unions of pop, rock, and soul, and not entirely dissimilar to what, on a much less successful level, Ned Doheny and the inestimable Danny O’Keefe were attempting at the same time. Scaggs continued in this vein on the gorgeous Middle Man (produced by Bill Schnee and issued on Columbia in 1980) and its principal hit, gangster character study, ‘JoJo’. By 1988’s Other Roads, the formula was starting to wear a little thin with the ballads, in particular, veering towards Michael Bolton territory.

Today, however, Scaggs is making albums that have more in common with the five or so collections he issued in the late 1960s/early 1970s, following a two-album stint with the Steve Miller band, long before hitting paydirt with Slow Dancer (1974) (as an interesting side-note, the second of these, 1969’s Boz Scaggs, was produced by Rolling Stone editor, Jann Wenner). For well over ten years now, Scagg’s albums have been grittier works that draw upon his passion for blues and R&B, rather than the smooth, sleek, yacht-rock textures that informed his mid-1970s to mid-1980s output.

Out of the Blues is the final part in a trilogy of genre albums that have seen Scaggs take a step back as a songwriter, contributing just a song or two to each release. The first, 2013’s self-explanatorily named Memphis, was a blues-rock odyssey that mingled a couple of originals with songs by Mink DeVille, Steely Dan, Tony Joe White, and Moon Martin. Then came the Nashville-recorded A Fool to Care (2015), which did for soul what its predecessor had done for blues, going back to its roots and beginnings, with guests including Lucinda Williams and Bonnie Raitt. Like Memphis, it was a genre album that managed to avoid being a mere exercise in nostalgia or a predictable oldies collection, mixing the early soul of Huey P Smith’s “High Blood Pressure” with much newer material, like Richard Hawley’s “There’s a Storm a-Comin” and Scagg’s own “Hell to Pay”.

Despite its title, on Out of the Blues, Scaggs actually takes the listener back into the blues. For the third time in a row, he deftly avoids the pitfalls of making these sorts of albums by selecting unpredictable material. In fact, almost half the album is made up of new songs written by musician/friend, Jack Walroth. The balance comprises material from the celebrated pens of people like Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland and Jimmy Reed. There’s a change of producer (the first two sets were overseen by Steve Jordan, while this one is handled by Scaggs with Chris Tabarez and Michael Rodriguez) and of location (to Hollywood, California), but some of the musicians are hold-overs from the previous album, including unsurpassed veteran-legend, Willie Weeks (bass), who’s now joined by other session stars who’ve played with Scaggs before, such as Jim Keltner (drums).

The Walroth material absolutely sparkles, with “Rock and Stick”, the album opener, having the heat and smoothness of a sports car in the sun, and the kind of groove that will satisfy fans of Silk Degrees. Scagg’s voice is affected by age but not to its detriment. It’s the same voice with rougher edges, and rougher edges only serve to enhance this kind of music. They allow Scaggs to inhabit a song like “I’ve Just Got to Forget You” where some of his contemporaries (e.g. James Taylor) might just glide pleasingly along the its surface. Whether or not Scaggs is acting, you can really feel the predicament of the song’s narrator who’s in a place most of us have been – of needing to relinquish something that’s long become toxic. The same applies to “I’ve Just Got to Know”, although now the protagonist is at the beginning rather than the end of the situation, beseeching the flighty object of his affections to commit.

The sequencing keeps things interesting, so the old-school blues of “I’ve Just Got to Know” is leavened by the contemporary beat of “Radiator 110”. In fact, inter-threading the old with the new is exactly what has made this experimental trilogy so satisfying, and here we travel between the 1960s (Jimmy Reed’s “Down in Virginia”), the 1970s (via a beautiful take on Neil Young’s “On the Beach”), and the present day masquerading as the 1950s (“Little Miss Night and Day”, the only track with a Scaggs co-writing credit). Perhaps the most startling name in the list of contributing songwriters is that of Don Deadric Robey, the infamous record label executive active in the industry from the 1940s to the 1970s, who owned Duke/Peacock Records and always sported a pearl-handled 38 on his hip. His ‘songwriting’ method involved going to prisons and paying inmates five dollars for song lyrics, for which he then assumed the publishing and credit. We’ll therefore never know the real provenance of “I’ve Just Got to Forget You” or “The Feeling Is Gone”, which brings Out of the Blues to a wonderfully smoky, dive-bar close.

If, at the end, you’ve had enough of Scaggs in his interpreter role (bearing in mind that this trilogy was preceded by other albums on which he was singer and guitarist but not writer, including Speak Low and But Beautiful), then you’ll be glad to know that while promoting Out of the Blues, he’s let slip the tantalising fact that he’s been stockpiling his own compositions for future projects, so there’s plenty to look forward to yet from this underrated legend.

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