Let’s start with a quote from the liner notes:

“Dark Side of the Moon” atmosphere revisited by Camel’s keyboard founder and Van Morrison’s “Wavelength” supporter starts with “Seen One Earth”

That’s what convinced me to buy the cd.

It was released on a Capitol label called Cinema Records, and they literally went out of their way to explain their philosophy in the liner notes. Let me share some of it with you here (it’s kind of long, but rather amusing in retrospect):

“The Cinema Story: No matter how large your disc and tape collection, only a small number of artists have earned your special trust. The kind of trust that comes from sharing such an in-tuneness that you know you’re going to be satisfied with everything that artist creates before you even hear it.

If special recording artists can command that special trust, why can’t a special record label?

Introducing Cinema Records, the company you can rely on for a new breed of music like you’ve never experienced before from:

• The most consistently innovative founders of today’s progressive rock
• The daring, developing visionaries of tomorrow’s “new Progressive”music

Beginning in 1987, you can count on Cinema Records to bring you the latest from:

Patrick Moraz: International musician extraordinaire explores the new frontiers of symphonic rock with his new solo adventure, Human Interface.

Amin Bhatia: An explorer of musical outerspace from an innerspace perspective. Thrill to symphonic sweeps of the galactic kind on his Interstellar Suite masterwork debut.

Michael Hoenig: A solo statement seven years in the making from a founding force of Tangerine Dream. The German synthesizer tradition has never sounded fresher or more alive than on this major effort, Xcept One.

Tony Kaye: The “Yes” album and “90125″ keyboard man who played with both Bowie and Detective in between. A triumph of mystery and mastery in his futuristic Cinema mission.

Cinema Records: The new progressive label out to earn your trust. With an unwavering commitment to technical and visual excellence as well as to our artists and their music. With a sense of adventure and flair for the unusual that will propel your imagination to a plane of heightened sensation and musical satisfaction available nowhere else.

See how good music can feel. Cinema-scape with us today. We’re Cinema Records. The widescreen rush you can trust.”

Pheeww. Who comes up with crap like that?? Needless to say, “Seen One Earth” sounds nothing like “Dark Side of the Moon”. Or Van Morrison. The cover photography is by NASA. It’s a little poppy New Age record with far too many annoying ’80s-synth-sounds.

To support that statement, here’s the instrument line-up:

Pete Bardens: Yamaha DX7, Roland JX3P, Fairlight 2, Prophet 5, Oberheim Expander, Linn drums, Roland 505, Roland JX8P, Fairlight 3, Wave Term, Mini Moog, ARP Odyssey, Emulator 2, Roland 707, Simmons drums and (gasp) Yamaha Grand Piano.
Adrian Dessent: Guitar (really? So many ’80s albums state that there’s a guitarist on them, but most of the time he’s impossible to spot…)
Peter van Hooke: Drums on “Seen One Earth”

Pete Bardens started out as one of the founding members of British progressive rock group Camel in 1971. He left in 1978, pursuing a largely undistinguished solo career consisting mainly of light New Age releases.

One exception is the one-off band project KEATS in 1984, where he teamed up with Colin Blunstone (vocals), Ian Bairnson (guitars), David Paton (bass) and Stuart Elliott (drums). It’s an incredibly slick and shallow pop/rock effort, which I kind of like (of course.)

One source describes it as “the Alan Parsons Project meets Camel.” I don’t really agree with that - I think it’s more like “Journey meets Air Supply.” I don’t think they ever hit the charts.

Cinema Records only lasted for a couple of years. Actually, Eric Johnson’s “Ah Via Musicom” was released on the label and was fairly successful.

Lee Abrams, who produced “Ah Via Musicom” comments Cinema Records on his blog:

Not for everyone, but something that Pink Floyd fans would generally appreciate. Cerebral music that was more about the head than the spa. That was our goal….but no-one got to really hear it.

Sadly Pete Bardens, founding member of Camel, died in 2002 at a mere 57 - of lung cancer…

I love jazz. I’m a little reluctant to write about it though, because I’m certainly no expert on the subject. Of course, I’m no expert on any other subject I’m writing about, but the jazz world is especially scary to me. There’s a lot of theory in jazz, a lot of do’s and don’ts, people study it for years - and even though I love the music, listen to it every day, read biographies and study some of the theory, I feel like a complete outsider - and that I really have no right at all to have an opinion on jazz music.

Why? I’ve met a few “serious” jazz musicians and a lot of jazz enthusiasts over the years and so many of the ones I’ve come across are complete snobs. I love the music, but I have a problem with the people, it seems. Maybe it’s just me, maybe it’s them, but it’s the way I feel - and it affects my confidence on the subject.

Nevertheless, I dig this album. It’s solid as a rock in every department and Baker sounds great. He plays the flugelhorn, and it’s one of his first sessions in America after five years in Europe. This compilation was released on Prestige.

He plays with George Coleman (tenor sax), Kirk Lightsey (piano), Herman Wright (bass) and Roy Brooks (drums), and the selections are from three original albums from the 1960s, “Groovin’”, “Comin’ On” and “Cool Burnin’”. This was my first album with Chet Baker, and therefore it’s kind of how I define the classic Chet Baker sound - not sure if that’s the common view, though - I don’t think it is.

I also like his early almost pop-like albums where he sings on a lot of the tracks. If I need to calm down for some reason, Baker’s voice is the perfect remedy. It’s so soothing, so… cool. Cool was no doubt the appropriate tag for Chet Baker’s music. Too bad he was such a troubled soul - certainly not the healthiest of men.

I have one other CD with Baker, a very cheap Camden/BMG release, “White Blues” (1996), a non-consistent album with selections from 1962, 1983 and 1986 - some of which suffer from horrible production. Some good tracks there, too, but certainly not a recommended release.

Chet Baker was born in 1929 and he died falling out of an Amsterdam hotel window on 13 May 1988. He suffered from a serious drug addiction through large parts of his life.

I bought this album and her 2001 EP “Tears All Over Town” just a couple of weeks ago, so I haven’t had time to digest it properly yet. It’s obviously the coolest thing in my record collection so far in this rundown, which isn’t saying much.

But I really like the sound. Every time I hear it, I get the urge to go out and start a band and play some real music with real, hissing amplifiers in smokey rehearsal rooms in some basement. I don’t know why that is exactly, it’s a professional production by any standard (by Richard Hawley) that doesn’t shout out garage band or anything. It even has a serene string section. It’s just a feeling I get - maybe there’s a certain intentional slackiness to the production, whatever that means. I don’t know.

It’s kinda obvious to compare her to Aimee Mann, but I won’t do that. She has her own, distinctive voice and should be regarded as such. Her voice is very comfortable to listen to, it has a melancholy feel which suits me just fine, and yes, sometimes you can trace a little Burt Bacharach in her music.

A Girl Called Eddy is a great record, and I can’t wait to hear her new album, which seems to be on the way soon. My favorite song at the moment is “People Used To Dream About The Future”, a beautiful song that’s very cinematic, almost epic in a way and oh, so melancholy… I get all lost in thought every time I hear it.

A Girl Called Eddy is Erin Moran from New Jersey and this is her only proper album so far.

It’s another David Foster inspired purchase. Actually, the only reason I bought it was the fact that Foster co-wrote and arranged one track, “If Not For Love”. It’s really not that good, and the engineer has turned the reverb up to 11 on the snare drum.

The album is soaked in synth sounds, drum machines and reverb. It’s not necessarily bad song-writing all the way through, but the bombastic arrangements just keep threatening to send the whole thing into space with all its swooshes, schiings and boo-booms.

Among the songwriters are Jeffrey Osborne, Kenny Loggins, Tom Snow, Michel Colombier, Graham Lyle and Terry Britten. It was produced by Russ Freeman (brr..), Andre Fischer and Anderson also produced one track.

It’s washed-out r&b. Anderson has a great voice, but the arrangements drench out any sign of soul. And it’s got the lamest synth horns in history (”Enough Said”).

It was also released on GRP Records, which is rarely a good sign anymore (I took it as a sure stamp of quality at the time.)

I didn’t know anything about Carl Anderson, so I had to look it up for the occasion. He worked briefly with Stevie Wonder and was in both film and stage performances of Jesus Christ Superstar in the 1970s. He had one hit in his career, “Friends and Lovers” with Gloria Loring in 1986. I’ve never heard it. He was also an actor. Sadly, Carl Anderson passed away in 2004 after a battle with leukemia.

I bought Stephen Bishop’s two first albums yesterday. “Careless” was released in 1976, “Bish” in 1978. It’s all the things music ain’t supposed to be according to some informed (or ignorant as it may be) sources, but I can’t help falling in love with these tracks. They’re all smooth and mellow, Michael McDonald and Art Garfunkel is singing backup - and often they’re awfully sad.

The kind of straight-faced sentimentality they display would be impossible today. Not commercially, anyway. And it’s ok, the world has moved on. I guess a guy trying to pull off a “tromblone”-solo* with a contemporary crowd would get into some kind of trouble.

Still, the music resonates with me. Over the years I’ve been able to peel off all my defensive critical musical layers to the point where I think I’m able to listen to old music without being colored too much by the inevitable public rejection that usually follows popularity.

And I understand perfectly why Stephen Bishop was quite popular in 1977.

* That’s Bishop emulating a trombone sound with his voice and lips.

A very charming 1970s production with stellar musicians and a few excellent tracks. It’s produced Dave Grusin and Larry Rosen, who went on to form the (in)famous GRP Records a couple of years later. But this is before they went all DDD and Yamaha - it has that smooth, round and jazzy r&b sound that was typical in the 1970s - think Aja by Steely Dan or Michael Franks - The Art of Tea - that kind of thing.

Austin herself is very fond of her output from this period. She was signed to Creed Taylor’s CTI - this was her second album on that label. Austin’s years with CTI wasn’t her major breakthrough - that happened with Quincy Jones a few years later: She sang on several tracks on his multi-award-winning 1981 album “The Dude”.

Patti Austin never became a huge star, but I believe she still sells a lot of records. And she should, she’s a great singer - I love her voice.

I also have a “Best of”-collection from her years on CTI. It’s good, except the tracks from the 1980 release “Body Language”. Those tracks are heavy-handed and a complete departure from the elegant releases preceding it. Luckily, Quincy Jones was just around the corner.

I also purchased her 1990 album “Love Is Gonna Getcha”. Now there’s a typical GRP release - lots of DX7-Rhodes and string synths. A few good tracks, though - especially the opener - “Through the Test of Time” - even though it sounds like Ambrosia (David Pack composed it) -to me, that’s a good thing

Great news! EMI announced today that they’re launching new premium downloads for retail, offering their entire catalog on DRM-free 256 Kbps mp3-files on iTunes for $1.29/song. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

I’m not sure how much it will affect my buying habits, though. I only buy DRM-free files, but maybe my musical taste is so off-beat that EMI really doesn’t have that much to offer? On the other hand, they do have a large jazz and classical section, I think. So it’ll probably benefit me in some ways, too. Besides, I’m not that off-beat.

Well done, EMI.

This is a good one. As many of you know, nothing about this band was average during their golden years, and as far as Scottish white guys go, this is funky. Many songs here are from their sophomore effort, AWB (1974) and the next few releases; a couple of tracks from their later albums (no post-1980 tracks).

They had some truly excellent releases from 1973 to 1976, but nothing really major happened after that - it’s the same old story: increasingly boring, uninspired albums as the 1970s came to an end, disbanded in the early 1980s, mediocre solo careers, an early 1990s comeback effort missing at least one important original member and then turning into an oldies touring act.

Seriously, did any band with any success in the 1970s not go down this path?

I bought the CD a few years ago, and I still enjoy it very much. For my part, vocalist Hamish Stuart’s falsetto took some getting used to, but it doesn’t bother me much now. Some of you will remember Stuart from his time as guitarist/backing vocalist in Paul McCartney’s band in the 1990s.

My dad worked in Sweden - in Stockholm - some years ago. He had a great apartment in Gamla Stan, and me and my wife stayed there for a couple of weekends when he was away (young and free, no kids - sometimes I really miss those times…) Anyway, I remember buying this CD during one of those visits to Sweden, so every time I hear Average White Band I’m thinking of Stockholm.

Good memories, beautiful city.

There’s probably one specific reason for the release of this compilation in 1988, and it’s the same reason that made me buy it: Good Morning, Vietnam (1987) with Robin Williams. Everyone who’s ever seen that movie will also remember the effective emotional sequence where the title song is played over some brutal images of war.

And this was probably the first real jazz recording I ever bought. To be fair, it’s more pop than jazz, and it’s by no means vintage Louis Armstrong. The compilation focuses mostly on his late 1950s - early 1960s orchestral pop sessions.

But it’s a milestone in the development of my personal music taste. In 1988 I listened mostly to Jean-Michel Jarre and euro-disco, so I say thank you very much, Good Morning, Vietnam, for leading me in the right direction.

Truth be told, I very rarely listened to anything but the title track for the first say, five or six years that I owned this CD. But come on, what can you expect? It’s a long, long road from You’re My Heart, You’re My Soul to The Whiffenpoof Song.

Funny thing that. In 1988 when I saw this movie (I was 17), I thought war was a thing of the past. Glasnost happening and all - I’d seen Platoon, Good Morning, Vietnam and Full Metal Jacket, I really thought we’d learnt our lesson and that nothing like it could ever happen again. Er, wrong…

I haven’t really been a follower of Tori Amos neither before nor after “Under the Pink”. I bought it when it was released mainly because I was interested in all kinds of piano pop, and because a lot of people had good things to say about her. I was hoping for a female version of Bruce Hornsby, and when she wasn’t, I was probably a little disappointed.

Nevertheless, I listened to it a lot for a couple of years. I was particularly fond of Past the Mission because of its sweeping chorus with those fat chords. I was not so much into the whimsical Kate Bush-kind-of-stuff back then. On the whole, I probably appreciate the album more today than I did then. Or maybe not?

Cause it’s kinda boring, isn’t it? Very boring, even. Cornflake Girl, the single, is OK, I guess. But every time I’m in the mood for this kind of music, I turn on some Kate Bush instead. Amos borrowed a lot from her, but I don’t think she’s as adventurous or as interesting as Bush is. A matter of taste, surely.

Postscript: I actually changed my mind about this album as I wrote this post. I just listened to a couple of the tunes for the first time in years, and I had to turn the thing off. I intended to write kindly about it, but it just plain stinks. It’s so pretentious and quasi-intellectual - no mercy, Tori Amos, it’s another one for the junk pile.