Never heard this Richard & Linda Thompson album.

Great stuff.

No seriously, some music sounds better now than then.

One of the most amazing albums ever from Frank Foster – a totally righteous set that's light years ahead of his earlier work with the Basie Band! The format here is right up there with the best on Strata East at the time – a large-group session that's filled with some of the hippest players of the early 70s – all coming together with a joyous, spiritual sense of power! Foster's in the lead on tenor and soprano sax, but other players include Cecil Bridgewater and Hannibal Marvin Peterson on trumpets, Harold Mabern on keyboards, Elvin Jones on drums, Dick Griffin on trombone, Stanley Clarke on bass, Airto on percussion, and even Dee Dee Bridgewater on vocals! Tracks are all quite long and flowing – spiritual expressions of jazz that rival the greatness of anything recorded for Impulse – and titles include "The Loud Minority", "Requiem For Dusty", "JP's Thing", and "EW – Beautiful People".

The early '70s were rife with political and racial conflicts, indicative of the pressures surrounding the scandal of Watergate and Richard Nixon, the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., and the painful continuation of the Vietnam War. As explosive as the times were, Frank Foster's The Loud Minority reflected all of those mounting tensions while remaining hopeful in a self-determining way that gave rise to the "I'm Black and I'm Proud" sentiment. Foster assembled a giant of a big band featuring dual instrumentation all around, including keyboards, basses, and drummers to power a horn section chock-full of the best mainstream jazz and progressive players of the day. Because funk-fusion was flowering, electrified elements of guitar and Fender Rhodes piano identify the music with the times, while vocalist Dee Dee Bridgewater, never known as a protest singer, reads powerful poetry and screams freedom at the top of her lungs, inspired by a band that knows no bounds or limits, at its core a mighty modern jazz orchestra removed from Foster's work with the Count Basie band. "J.P's Thing" provides the ultimate in memorable melodic invention, vibrant layers of call and response, and the kind of shout-out energy every jazz fan craves. It's a driving, funky number, very much representative of the time period, full of hope and spirit, with low-end bass clarinets firing off the rest of the horns -- a great track! "Requiem for Dusty" is for a late, favored German Shepherd, a sad ballad with Foster on his rarely played alto sax and Stanley Clarke's arco acoustic bass solo with drama confined to smaller spaces, almost Greek epic, elegiac for sure. New York DJ Ed Williams is paid tribute to in "E.W. -- Beautiful People," a free and light Latin piece with Foster's soprano sax wailing in a darkly dramatic hue, with fine solos from acoustic pianist Harold Mabern and trumpeter Charles McGee. The title track is a composition with Bridgewater identifying icons of change and liberation from oppression, with statements that the Loud Minority is not a nonprofit, and the profit is in the victory "as opposed to you know whooooooooo." A united front of furious funk and churning rhythms via Airto, Elvin Jones, Richard Pratt, and Omar Clay with the Rhodes of Jan Hammer and electric guitar of Earl Dunbar under Foster's spirited horn chart makes this one leap out of the speakers.

It's wonderful.

Thread needs more jazz.

David Werner's name doesn't roll off the tongue: he hasn't released an album since 1979, and only the most avid rock snob will have heard them -- because they're not in print anymore. Whizz Kid is a typically earnest debut that seemingly draws on its artist's record collection: Bowie and Beatles influences are present, and a little glam, too. (The original back cover shot of a heavily lipsticked Werner is priceless; he also calls his publishing company Sassy Brat Music!) Werner takes a more measured tack than his flashier brethren, though Mark Doyle's and Max Kendrick's guitars can pounce and snarl with the best of them. Songs alternate between mid-tempo rockers and plaintive ballads like "The Lady in Waiting" and "It's Too Sad," which offers encouragement to a lonely person ("but you're no one's clown/'cause they're the ones that have to grow"). "One More Wild Guitar" opens the album decisively, casting its rocker-versus-fogeyish-parents lyric as a coming-of-age story -- a theme he further develops on "The Death of Me Yet" and the title track ("everything I try to say somehow comes out crazy"). The musicianship isn't flashy, but it's first-rate throughout (especially Doyle and Kendrick, who carry most of the load). Werner addresses his inner life on the winsome "Love Is Tragic" and "A Sleepless Night," in which a rebuffed lover plays for more time. As if to ensure he's not playing things too straight, Werner trots out another Bowie-esque touch -- "Plan 9," a one-minute, free-associative spoken-word piece. The public may not have known how to read him, but David Werner was a distinctive artist, which may have worked against him. His style's definitely an acquired taste, but you'll never forget it once you hear it.

This album also holds a couple of my personal faves, "Pearl 'n' Roy (England)",

Born in Port Arthur, Texas, Gloria Scott moved to the west coast in her early-teens. Her aunt sang in a group with Sly Stone (then Sylvester Stewart), along with his sister Rose and cousin LaTanya. She first met Stone, three years her senior, during one of the group's rehearsals and then again a couple of years later at a high school dance. After hearing Gloria Scott sing "Gee Whiz" by Carla Thomas, Stone formed a group with Scott as the lead, "Gloria Scott and the Tonettes." The group disbanded after recording a few sides but the young singer continued performing around the San Francisco Bay area as a solo act. Charles Sullivan, the owner of the Fillmore Auditorium, helped Gloria Scott land her next gig -- as a backup singer for the Ike & Tina Turner Revue.


Less than a year later, Gloria Scott decided to continue pursuing a solo career while occasionally doing background spots. Before long, Barry White took an interest in Scott through the recommendation of her songwriting partner, Sonny Chaney. White signed the young singer to his Soul Unlimited Company and landed a deal with Neil Bogart's Casablanca Records. Released in the winter of 1974, What Am I Gonna Do marked the second release of Bogart's burgeoning record company.

A confluence of events, however, hindered the album's impact. First, Casablanca had yet to establish its identity in the marketplace. Because Scott's deal was with White's company directly -- not Casablanca -- she missed opportunities to build a rapport with executives at the label who might have lent more support. Second, Barry White had suddenly found phenomenal success with his own releases and did not accord Scott's career the same kind of attention. Casablanca released a non-album single, "Just As Long As We're Together," in early-1975. Though it made the R&B Top 20, a second album never materialized.

Scott's contract with Barry White stipulated a seven-year commitment, yet White only delivered one album for her. Frustrated by the lack of direction, Scott requested a release from her contract during the sixth year. While Barry White scored hit after hit with his own singles and the Love Unlimited Orchestra, Gloria Scott found herself abandoned.

Soul music lovers, however, did not abandon Gloria Scott. Vinyl copies of What Am I Gonna Do have traded hands upwards of $300 over the years and earned the singer a cult following in Europe.

Why try to micro-manage it to such a degree? It's not like Obner has thousands of contributors, plus give it a couple more entries and enthusiasm will drop to the usual less-than-zero. If I were you I'd let this ride while it lasts.

I first heard about this record in 1995 after hearing Son Volt cover Mystify Me. It’s easy to see why Keith poached Ronnie from the Faces.

I know how to search various sites for 1974 albums. I'd rather read about that one record from said year and why it is dear to you.

Yeah, but most people aren't going to do this anyway. Plus, you might be able to search for '74 albums, but look at the evidence on hand: there are frequenters of a longstanding music board in 2010 who hadn't even heard I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight and Too Much Too Soon.