Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Jun 21, 2011 18:48:50 GMT
Howard Werth And The Moonbeams: King Brilliant
AUDIENCE WERE ALWAYS a band which threatened massive stardom. That they never made the final breakthrough wasn't for want of trying. They made four excellent albums, had a fanatical cult following, and a very fine lead singer called Howard Werth who turned down a gig with The Doors.
King Brilliant is the next stage in his repeated effort to enter the national subconscious and if he doesn't hit the grade this time it's probably too late.
The Moonbeams' debut public outing at The Marquee showed they had the instant pedigree of a winning band and, if the album doesn't measure up to those earlier high standards, it's still good and improves on acquaintance.
Werth and Gus Dudgeon are re-united here – which is marginally better for the credits than the often over-produced, over-orchestrated sound. At best the partnership doesn't detract from the seedy music hall voice and peculiar acoustic picking technique which are amongst Werth's trademarks.
Dudgeon, on the other hand, definitely leaves his card throughout. 'Cocktail Shake', for instance, is very close to an Elton John Parody.
Luckily Werth has a distinctive enough talent of his own to invalidate the need for drawing obvious comparisons. Commercial immediacy in this context and with this standard of material is a definite advantage.
'The Embezzler' reveals that the old sense of humour remains intact – a Walter Mitty fantasy about a man approaching premature senility in a boring office who transports his mind elsewhere to relieve the tedium: Life here in Rio is fun/though I must admit/I miss my begonias and cat.
Sort of Godfrey Winn or Bryan Ferry – though with a more outfront grasp on middleclass ennui.
Werth usually exhibits all the battered chic necessary to traipse around the North London pub-circuit basking and keep self-respect intact. He's had enough practise, and his brand of seedy elegance, along with a battered disregard for fashion – plus his own anachronistic appearance – are quite appealing; as much in common with the 'New Look' or Ealing Comedies as The Beatles.
Occasionally the lightness is trite ('Fading Star'), but there's more to the man than mere shambling idiocy. A song like 'A Human Note' is simple and touching.
The stand-out cuts close both sides and depict a serious personality.
'Ugly Water' is a particularly unnerving description of a listless alcoholic on the verge of a breakdown. Richard Hewson provides the suitably fractured string arrangement.
'The Aleph' has an even stronger melody – too lavish maybe, with Werth pushing his distinctive vocals to the limit – a voice to match most others in English rock.
Musically the album is slick, occasionally flash and about as faultless as one would expect with most of Hookfoot doing the honours. Often they're more polished than the songs actual requirements – which is to say I don't know what the hell half these strings, brass, and synthesisers contribute to the overall effect. Then again, some of them played with Werth at the Marquee and went down a treat.
If King Brilliant isn't as good as its tongue-in-cheek name suggests, at least The Moonbeams are guaranteed to knock out any normally receptive and inebriated audience.
Max Bell, NME, 13 September 1975
AUDIENCE WERE ALWAYS a band which threatened massive stardom. That they never made the final breakthrough wasn't for want of trying. They made four excellent albums, had a fanatical cult following, and a very fine lead singer called Howard Werth who turned down a gig with The Doors.
King Brilliant is the next stage in his repeated effort to enter the national subconscious and if he doesn't hit the grade this time it's probably too late.
The Moonbeams' debut public outing at The Marquee showed they had the instant pedigree of a winning band and, if the album doesn't measure up to those earlier high standards, it's still good and improves on acquaintance.
Werth and Gus Dudgeon are re-united here – which is marginally better for the credits than the often over-produced, over-orchestrated sound. At best the partnership doesn't detract from the seedy music hall voice and peculiar acoustic picking technique which are amongst Werth's trademarks.
Dudgeon, on the other hand, definitely leaves his card throughout. 'Cocktail Shake', for instance, is very close to an Elton John Parody.
Luckily Werth has a distinctive enough talent of his own to invalidate the need for drawing obvious comparisons. Commercial immediacy in this context and with this standard of material is a definite advantage.
'The Embezzler' reveals that the old sense of humour remains intact – a Walter Mitty fantasy about a man approaching premature senility in a boring office who transports his mind elsewhere to relieve the tedium: Life here in Rio is fun/though I must admit/I miss my begonias and cat.
Sort of Godfrey Winn or Bryan Ferry – though with a more outfront grasp on middleclass ennui.
Werth usually exhibits all the battered chic necessary to traipse around the North London pub-circuit basking and keep self-respect intact. He's had enough practise, and his brand of seedy elegance, along with a battered disregard for fashion – plus his own anachronistic appearance – are quite appealing; as much in common with the 'New Look' or Ealing Comedies as The Beatles.
Occasionally the lightness is trite ('Fading Star'), but there's more to the man than mere shambling idiocy. A song like 'A Human Note' is simple and touching.
The stand-out cuts close both sides and depict a serious personality.
'Ugly Water' is a particularly unnerving description of a listless alcoholic on the verge of a breakdown. Richard Hewson provides the suitably fractured string arrangement.
'The Aleph' has an even stronger melody – too lavish maybe, with Werth pushing his distinctive vocals to the limit – a voice to match most others in English rock.
Musically the album is slick, occasionally flash and about as faultless as one would expect with most of Hookfoot doing the honours. Often they're more polished than the songs actual requirements – which is to say I don't know what the hell half these strings, brass, and synthesisers contribute to the overall effect. Then again, some of them played with Werth at the Marquee and went down a treat.
If King Brilliant isn't as good as its tongue-in-cheek name suggests, at least The Moonbeams are guaranteed to knock out any normally receptive and inebriated audience.
Max Bell, NME, 13 September 1975