PATTI SMITH

Hmm... pretentious. You can bet your house that this is one pretentious mother of an album. In fact, Patti Smith is just one pretentious mother. Quite literally. In fact, I feel a slight pang of guilt that I should give this album such a high rating when I saw it fit to give Jim Morrison's similarly pretentious An American Prayer such a mediocre rating. I guess the merits of this album are wholly artistic, as opposed to the corporate cash-in nature of An American Prayer. Smith also grants this album a successful balance between pretentious poetry and normal(ish) songs as opposed to the narrative overload of Morrison's posthumous swan-song. The really surprising thing about this album is how early it came out. This album was actually released a good three years before An American Prayer so it is by no means a rip-off, although Morrison is/was obviously a big influence on Smith. Certainly the comparisons between the two central magnum opuses on this album ("Birdland" and "Land") and the majority of An American Prayer come easy. For which I think Smith might actually come out on top. I much, much prefer Morrison's narration as I find Smith's a little embarrassing at times. I actually have no problem with her whiny, un-tutored singing voice but her poetry narration just oozes self-importance and the melodramatic moments just make me cringe; I wince every time she cries out "...just like Mohammed boxer" on "Birdland". "Birdland", for the most part, is a decent enough account of a man coming to terms with his father's death (more grounded than An American Prayer if not actually as good, lyrically) but it is the musical accompaniment that really elevates the song. Smith's backing band (primarily pianist Richard Sohl and lead guitarist Lenny Kaye) are all excellent and refreshingly unique musicians. Thus, it is the piano and guitar interplay on "Birdland" that more than compensates for Smith's hang-wringingly melodramatic vocal, with Kaye's guitar successfully imitating the cries of birds. "Land" is, at a push, a bit better overall, with a middle section that rocks pretty good. Despite the fact that these two poetic epics were obviously intended as the two key tracks on the album, it is actually the opening transformation of Van Morrison's "Gloria" into a poetic tour de force that steals the show. It starts off slowly with Smith's obtuse poetry being supported by a subtle arrangement before the song builds up and seamlessly turns into Van's rock'n'roll classic. "Free Money" is also one of the best "normal" songs which is basically a straight-forward piano ballad which soon whips itself into a frenzy. "Break it Up" was co-written with Smith's friend and part-time lover, Tom Verlaine but before Television had really established themselves nationally (they were still pretty big in New York at the time). Verlaine adds backing vocals and some typically brilliant guitar. Funnily enough, the final track "Elegie" (with someone from Blue Oyster Cult on guitar) I think actually sounds more like a Television song. Certainly the intro sounds a lot like the intro to "Torn Curtain". Again, the early release date of this album means "Redondo Beach" must count as a pretty unique song as it is a sort of reggae-ska number done by a white middle-class artist years before the Clash had cottoned on. For the chorus I half expect her to sing the lyrics to "Wrong 'em Boyo". Her vocals are at their most off-kilter for that number but that only marks it out as one of the most distinctive, and enjoyable, songs on the album. Almost to match the beginning of the album a bonus track is included on the remaster of Smith performing a live rendition of the rock'n'roll classic, "My Generation". I can't say it matches the reinterpretation of "Gloria" and John Cale's bass seems to be mixed too high as if to say "look, John Cale's playing!". Or maybe he produced it as well as the rest of the album in which case we can excuse it as ego-centric conceit. Anymanyway, if you have a real problem with pretentiousness I would not buy this album. For the rest of us, though, we can simply say "what a great album" with the ghost of Jim Morrison cursing our hypocrisy.

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Email me at: jackfeeny@yahoo.co.uk