RCA Victor 1973 / Think Like A Key 2024
We May Be Cattle But We’ve All Got Names
Out of electric shimmer and into the spotlight, English artist issues an obscure chef-d’œuvre that shines ever brighter on its 50th anniversary.
Remembered primarily for his rather short shift with the early ELO, whose leader had a way of overshadowing his colleagues, this musician has always been more than just a bassist, only his impressive talents as singer and multi-instrumentalist – barely obvious on classics like “Showdown” and “Can’t Get It Out Of My Head” – came into proper prominence on several albums which bore Michael de Albuquerque’s own name. To be precise, there was but one such platter, his second, released between a joint effort with Frank Ricotti and a record simply credited to “Albuquerque” – yet it was that one where the player’s riotous cynicism and nuanced romanticism feel perfectly balanced.
What’s also on display here is the soulful immediacy of de Albuquerque’s performances – his piano prowess and vocal approach undoubtedly facilitated by the presence of friends, including the ever-reliable Ricotti on percussion, Chris Lawrence to whom Michael delegated all the four-string parts, drummers Gerry Conway and Brian Bennett, and, first and foremost, Ollie Halsall whose incendiary guitar solos elevate every piece on offer, letting the acoustically driven and delicately jiving, if rough-hewn, serenade “Oh Woman” take off in a live-in-studio environment – and top-class songwriting. Not for nothing Tim Hardin, a no mean melodicist himself, would cover the sublimely scintillating “My Darling Girl” right after this platter was out – yet the funky opener “Dribble Dribble” floats just as infectiously on fusion waves, before its pop-styled refrain and bridge, with the axeman’s voice high in the mix, bring a smile to the listener’s face, and the falsetto-flaunting, dynamics-defying title track, augmented with Ollie’s cosmic Moog, doesn’t fall far behind. And while rhythmical shifts of “Occasion” – given a country flavor courtesy of B.J. Cole’s pedal steel – may seem confusing, there’s immense, old-timey warmth in the ensemble’s handling of the effervescent tune that elegantly rocks and rolls towards the end.
More so, the brass-spiced “Do Right” bares de Albuquerque’s love for simply simmering numbers and helps understand why his skills were a tight fit for Jeff Lynne’s extravaganzas, and the silky wonder of “Sweet Mirth” reveals the power of Michael’s pipes. But the epic “Catharsis” wraps things up in a blissed-out discotheque way, whereas the single bonus “Lonely” which features Bob Weston, on loan from FLEETWOOD MAC, adding his licks to this heady brew, provides a fresh finale to the brilliant record. The record that’s been long ripe for rediscovery.
*****
