Pegasus 1971 / Think Like A Key 2025
First Wind
Long overdue for rediscovery: rivetingly extravagant relic from elite English masters of extemporized grandeur.
Despite his profile’s high visibility, Michael de Albuquerque has never had a proper solo career, as there was the only album to bear the British musician’s full name, "We May Be Cattle..." from 1973. But while that record also bore expectations related to his membership in a popular ensemble, it was preceded by this, a much more adventurous platter, on which the future ELO star had found ultimate freedom in the company of good friend, Frank Ricotti, and a few other kindred spirits. Even though Albuquerque’s pop sensibilities are rather evident on the “First Wind” originals he penned or co-wrote, Ricotti’s jazz leanings informed what their combo did in equal measure, with a stellar line-up the two pals gathered adding bits and entire pieces to the duo’s flights of fantasy to a vertiginous effect.
A summit of soulful delights, the ten numbers on offer perfectly balance Mike’s memorable vocal lines and Frank’s remarkable vibraphone passages with improvs driven by John Taylor’s adventurous electric piano and bolstered by Chris Lawrence’s muscularly supple piano, which turn even such staples as John Sebastian’s gentle “Didn’t Wanna Have To Do It” and James Taylor’s spiritual “Lo And Behold” into mesmeric wigouts. It’s a testament to Ricotti and Albuquerque’s talents as band leaders that their accompanists are given a lot of space to shine, especially when there’s room to go off on a tangent in, as stereo-busting opener “Ratsa (Don’t Know Why)” suggests with a lot of gusto, once the number’s composer John’s ivories engage the group, first of all Frank who’s blowing a vigorous sax on this cut and weaving percussive threads around Trevor Tomkins’s sympathetic drums and Michael’s mellifluous voice, in a sophisticated, if easy-on-the-ear, interplay his namesake Cecil and Roy Ayers could go for. As the riff-propelled “Go Out And Get It” shows a sharper edge to the pleasure the performers derive from collective’s delivery, and “Don’t You Believe Me?” reveals the immense dynamic scope of the quintet’s creative telepathy – where silent spots carefully encrusted with unpredictable, albeit always lovely sonic strokes and cushioned with Lawrence’s soft, yet insistent, rumble – the listener is treated to gusts and whiffs of joie de vivre.
But though the team’s handling of Melanie’s “Bobo’s Party” finds them riding an infectious groove with elegant swagger and fleshing out the song’s rhythmic pattern along the way, towards the jolly “Old Ben Houston” which ropes in Frank’s silvery vibes and Mike’s delicate guitar strum in the most cinematic manner, “New York Windy Day” feels simultaneously serene and frisky, and “The Wind Has No Love” seems as idyllic as bossa nova motifs allow it to be. Here’s why the finale “Give A Damn,” which is elevated by Henry Lowther’s trumpet solo, is so triumphant and unpretentious at the same time – even in a concert version, as part of a miraculously sourced John Peel session that encompassed several of the album’s tunes, and four of those, crackling with energy, ended up on this astounding reissue. Factor in all four exhilarating sides of de Albuquerque’s singles from 1969 and 1970, including his debut “Better Men Than Me” in its orchestral wrapping, innocently pointing to his further endeavors, and the reemergence of “First Wind” must count as something truly outstanding.
*****
