Second album, Babylon (1969) is something of a let down after the brilliance of Gris-Gris. It's a straighter record, composed of clear individual songs and although some of that weird atmosphere remains, it's a much less thematically aligned record. There's some great, odd stuff on here (the kids singing 'America the Beautiful' in the background of 'The Patriotic Flag Waver' for instance) and there are some fine songs ('Black Widow Spider') but there's something a little flat, a little disappointing about Babylon. Pretty much the same comments apply to 1971's The Sun, Moon & Herbs. It's a mix of straight, blues-led songs, some of which are really fine ('Familiar Reality'), but some of which are a bit nondescript, and that evil swamp-blues that Gris-Gris was composed entirely of ('Pots on Fiyo'). Both Babylon and The Sun, Moon & Herbs are great albums, no mistake about that, but there's something missing from what would be expected from such a remarkable and unique debut album. In any event, all three of these albums are perfect sultry high-summer night records.
There is something of a change of style for 1972's Dr John's Gumbo, which is an album of covers of New Orleans and deep south tunes that defined Dr John's approach to songwriting. So, although on the face of it, Dr John covering 'Iko Iko' and 'Let the Good Times Roll' seems like novelty record-making, it's actually far from it. This is invigorating stuff, full of life, and indicative of Dr John's dedication to the self-mythologising of the south. It's all good fun, there's nothing spooky going on here, just rolling, lolloping piano blues with New Orleans horns and casual drumming, it's totally relaxed and an open invitation to have a good time. Interestingly, despite being the stylistic opposite of Gris-Gris, it's another of his best albums, and the fact that they are different is not demonstrative of a shift in Dr John's approach but is instead because they are the two sides of the same coin. In the Right Place (1973) was his next set of mostly original songs, and it's probably his finest of all. In the Right Place is a fantastic album, building on the good time New Orleans vibe of Gumbo it's a long way from the swamp blues of Gris-Gris, but this is a fantastic example of how grand musicianship and a singular vision can create great pop music. Everything is delicately placed to sound as relaxed and casual as possible, it's immaculately constructed deliberately to sound as if it just got thrown together in the studio. The backing vocals, the horns, the easy vibe, all contribute to the out and out coolness of the good time that's being had while the record's on. It's charming and effortlessly cool. Some big songs are on, the title track and 'Such a Night' for instance, but there's nothing on it that's out of place or doesn't meet the mood or the high standards of performance or songwriting.
We skip forward 25 years to 1998's Anutha Zone. What is it about British musicians that makes them want to show off about how much more they know about music than each other? It makes them look like dicks (and I particularly mean you Bobby Gillespie) but it certainly works in the favour of the people that they "rediscover". Anutha Zone came about as a result of various British musicians doing such said showing off and boasting about liking old Dr John records. So, a bit later and we have Dr John recording in the UK as well as the US with the likes of Paul Weller, members of Spiritualized, Primal Scream, Portishead and Supergrass. It's sort of absurd the jostling for position, but it did lead to a surprisingly good record. Anutha Zone has a seedy, slow-motion kind of feel to it, and it revisits to a large extent the mystical, mythological voodoo sounds of his earliest albums. His voice has lost some of its imposing grittiness but it's turned to good use on some half-sung, half-spoken numbers ('The Olive Tree' for instance is nicely, understatedly creepy). Although limited by the musicians involved (these are uptight Brits, most of whom can't really play very well, as opposed to Dr John's usual selection of exceptional loose-limbed New Orleans session players), the album does create a nice, crawling, sultry vibe throughout and it really is a very satisfying album.
One of America's first My Bloody Valentine copyists, the Drop Nineteens debut, Delaware (1992) was a fine sun-kissed example of how well the American indie kids could absorb stuff and turn into something more culturally applicable. Despite sounding alarmingly similar to the two MBV albums, Delaware sounds specifically American. The gauzy, fuzzy guitars and muddy bass belie their provenance all too clearly but there's something quaintly earnest about the Drop Nineteens and I find it impossible not to melt every time I listen to Delaware. The album is a mix of bleary pop songs and atmospheric drone-outs, and it's the more immediate pop songs that stick out ('Winona' is a great song for instance), but there's some real quality in the other stuff (the blatant rip-off/mix-up of MBV's 'Soon' and Slowdive's 'Morningrise', 'Kick the Tragedy' is great (it even has the 'Soon' drum machine and running time!), and when the second side calms down a bit, it's got some charm to it too. Imitation is sincere flattery in the case of Delaware, and anybody copying some of my favourite records, and doing it charmingly naively, is fine in my book.
Three of the founder members left the band, dissatisfied with the sound they were following, and Greg Ackell, clearly stung by the criticism and the pointing out of just how much he was copying other bands, decided to take them in a decidedly more confrontational direction. National Coma (1993) is an almighty mess of an art-rock album, with songs that turn in a moment from charming indie to snarling, nasty-minded freeform breakdowns. It's not a pleasant album and it's a fairly unimpressive one, but it is an interesting and admirable attempt to do something different. I saw the band play around this time and they behaved like a bunch of self-satisfied snotty little brats. It's a shame because I think if they could have acted a bit less like children they could have gone on to make a fine album at some point.
Finally for today we have something very different. Not many people are aware of the existence of one of the most peculiar and peculiarly impressive records of the 1990's. It's an album by Anne Dudley (from The Art of Noise and occasional TV composer) and Jaz Coleman (from art-punk pioneers Killing Joke) called Songs From the Victorious City (1990). How this record ever came about I simply can't imagine and don't really want to know. Dudley and Coleman apparently took a number of trips to Cairo, researching modern and ancient music of the city and meeting, writing, rehearsing and recording with local musicians there. After bringing the tapes back to the UK they then put the parts together into coherent whole tunes, and they are absolutely fantastic. This is truly an exceptionally good record, not only for the boldness of the concept, the brilliance and delicacy of the execution, the grace that's exhibited throughout the performances, but also for the fact that the melodies are great, the tunes absolutely superb. These are all instrumental pieces but they all have found sounds throughout, donkeys in the street, market sellers shouting, all the atmospherics of a vibrant modern city that is still ancient in its bearing. The only slight downside is that the UK production is slightly too clean, slightly too reliant on what presumably was "cutting-edge technology" in 1990 (that'll be Dudley's Art of Noise leanings to blame I guess). But it's easy to ignore any production failings when listening to this enlivening and simply brilliant bit of cultural assimilation.
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