'sides

SIDES

Records by David Weiss

MFSB: Summertime (Philly Im'l Records)

Jeff Beek: Wired (Kpic)

Jan Hammer Group: Oh, Yeah' (Nemperor Records)

Johnny Guitu Watson: Ain't That A Bitch (Philly Inti Records)

Stanley Tunentine: Everybody Come On Out (lantasy Records)

Ben Sidran: Free In America (Arista)

McCoy Tyner: Fly With The Wind (Milestone)

Hampton Hawes: The Challenge (RCA)

Dave Brubeck: All The Things We Are (Atlantic)

Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes: I Don 't Want to Go Home (Epic)

The J. Geils Band: Blow Your Face Out (Atlantic)

Johnny and Kdgar Winter: Together (Blue Sky)

Force Of Nature: Unemployment Blues (Philly Int'T Records)

Larrv Coryell: Aspects (Arista)

Cheech and Chong: Sleeping Beauties

Will Rogers or Mark Twain or some such American probably said something about the only perennially expectable' phenomena being death and income taxes. As a latter-day observer of lesser rank, allow me to add records to the list. they just keep comin' up like weeds, some bearing beauty or color, while otliers are almost poisonous to the touch. Delicate creatures they are, and ornery if not shown respect.

Praise the skies when respect is shown in great abundance as McCoy Tyner has on Fly With The Wind. This man, reared in the giant shadow of John Coltrane, takes an entire conception with him into the studio, not just a batch of licks. The last few rears have seen the expansion of Tyner's setting to indude strings and extended instrumentation. Here he is accompanied by drummer Billy Cobham, bassist Ron Carter and flautist Hubert Laws, plus an ensemble of lesser known but able musicians.

The textures and rhythm are Multitudinous and testify both to McCoy's arranging and to the fine musicianship throughout. The title track, "Fly With The Wind," is an inspired splashing of color and movement; replete with swelling violins and the muscular backing of this stellar rhythm section. This is a music that dares to enter your heart -it is thoughtful, expressive, and so alive and bright. More than anything, though, it shows the further development of an artist who refuses to allow his  conception to idle. Beg, borrow or steal for this one.

Stanley Turrentine is a sure thing in the reliable phenomena department. He's been churning out a potent brand of orchestrated funk for years standards worked, reworked and overworked. The difference between him and other players is that he's got a good chunky, soulful tenor sax voice. Lord knows the man ain't gonna cause no riots playing this stuff, as Stravinsky's music did in the 20's. He ain't breaking down barriers, to be sure. But whal he does he really does.

The material on Everybody Come On Out is about half upbeat funk, half lazy ballads. The sturdier tunes succeed with the help of a fine rhythm section-Joe Sample, Harvey Mason and Herbie's former percussionist Bill Summers. If you dig what comes out WJZZ all day, chances are you'll find a good cross-section of it on this album.

Hampton Hawes recorded his only solo album in Japan in 1968 and RCA has finally released it here, The Challenge is a collection of a dozen mostly familiar melodies, hut twisted and shaded and improvised into newness and vitality. Hawes is a gifted pianist whose best work demands repeated listenings.

Echoes of a long time pianists dating back to Fats Waller ring out  in Hampton's playing. "Tokyo Blues" and "Bags" Groove" show how deep is his feeling and understanding of older forms. Monk and Bud Powell, Tristano and Cecil Taylor could all be proud of this healthy extension of their heritage. Dig on Hawes, hear?

Dave Brubeck's the host for a rather unique session on Atlantic. Lee Konitz and Anthony Braxton on altos and Roy Haynes on drums with Brubeck regular Jack Six on bass to add a little variation to the dead-weight stasis that is Brubeck. Dave still can't manage but the coldest piano sound since "Arctic Art" Wilde me warmed a steel in the thirties. Ne'ertheless  the new blood on this album all but makes up for The EIdei Brubeck's clatter. Braxton brings his rush-hour rhythmic attack to "In Your Own Sweet Way," and Brubeck teams with Konitz in an exciting duel of "Don't Get Around Much Anymore." Not a had little jam session, all in all.

I don't honestly know what it is that Larry Coryell's been eating lately . but it hasn't done him any good. He's become lazy, cold and contrite. A recurring nightmare is his latest album Aspects. Almost disco, old-funk-imitated, Brecker Brothers-synthesizers - you name it, this stuff just ain't  got it. Coryell's seen better days 

 The scientists over at Philly International have come up with a few more Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes' great hits, MFSB's Summertime, and Unemployment Blues by Force of Nature, Gamble and Huff notwithstanding the two latter choices are a trifle thin.

Harold Meivin and the Blue Notes need no special arranging talent to buttress their dynamic vocals. This is a Great album if you can deal with so much Philly soul at its smoothest: "Wake Up, everybody," "The Love I Lost," "I Miss You," and others are on this one.

MFSB's Summer time is just another forty minutes of anonymous disco. Variations on a deadbeat, no more. Force of Nature's first album, Unemployment Blues, is a little bit better. The) are giving voice to a stronger message and backing it with a cooking band and a couple of pretty mean singers. No great bargain, though.

Jeff Beek surfaces again with Wired Ihis time with help trom Jan Hammer and Narada Michael Walden (of Mahavishnu fame), on an album that is not totally boring. He does a careful version of Mingus' "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat." but it is a brief melodic oasis on an album that is mostly dedicated to amplitude and electronic deo-dadism.

Speaking of  ol' Hammerin Jan Hammer, that most alien of aliens has another "album" out called Oh Yeah. This guy probably synthesizes his eggs in the morning. that's all he seem to know , and personally it bores me to paranoia.

Those lovable albinos, Johnny and Edgar Winter, have just released a new al bum, Together, recorded  live in San Diego. Ninth generation versions of old fifties R&B, the Winters are still hacking away at their faithful old routine. And although it may be granted on a nice day, that they are occasionally exciting, theirs is a generally tired act and nothing worth bleaching your hair over.

Speaking of age-old favorites. the J. Geils Band has a new album, also recorded live, called Blew your Face Out, I've heard tell these chalk brothers put on some wild snow, I guess they must, it everybody makes a fuss over them, cause their music ain't nothin' to write home about. Hey, good luck to these self-proclaimed tough punks. This stuff keeps the Westinghouse full, so not blow it til the goddam cows come home.

Arista has a nice find in Ben Sidran. His album, Free in America, is truely original, Good composition , well perfomed by Ben with his Mose Allison approach, and accompanied by the likes of Woody Shaw, Fathead Newman, Phil Upchurch and the Breckers.

No shit, this cat is somethin' else altogether. Lyrical tunes with a bite and a fresh approach and backed up by Ben's surge and punch at the piano. Don't wait for it to show up on the charts to buy this, it may never make it.

 Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes are a spinoff from the Bruce Spring steen Whirlwind. Bruce tells some phony legend about them on the liner notes in an attempt to mastermind another P.R. fraud. But, alas, the album, I Don't Want to Go Home, makes me want to do just that . I don't care who the cat knows.

Johnny Guitar Watson's Ain't That A Bitch is some pretty gritty 90-proof funk. The  guitar man really arranged up some nice sexy textures here - phased guitars and slender muted horns and his own personal singing style. The cover is reason enough to buy it - Johnny sitting on a leather couch with two women and an afghan drooling at his feet -  need I say more about this twisted genius?

Finally, the masters of adolescent bad taste - Cheech and Chong - have embarrassed their parents again. Sleeping beauty testifies to the poor jerks. bereft of reason, who run the record companies. Don't you dare buy this crap - get yourself a new brim or some shoes.