Kenny Neal's dad Raful is a longtime Baton Rouge swamp blues stalwart whose own discography is way sparser than it should be. This album, first out on Bob Greenlee's King Snake logo, is an atmospheric indication of what the elder Neal can do with a harmonica, mixing covers ("Steal Away," "Honest I Do," "No Cuttin' Loose") with spicy originals.
It was probably David Bowie's record-company affiliation difficulties that kept the 1993 Buddha of Suburbia soundtrack to a British TV miniseries from being released in the U.S. until 1995, when it was slipped out in the wake of his new album, Outside. That's too bad, because The Buddha of Suburbia is an often engaging collection of songs and instrumental passages that recalls many previous Bowie albums, including such disparate efforts as The Man Who Sold the World, Aladdin Sane, and Low. It's not a major effort by any means, but in another context songs like "Strangers When We Meet" easily could become Bowie favorites.
After the success of Song for My Father and its hit title cut, Horace Silver was moved to pay further tribute to his dad, not to mention connect with some of his roots. Silver's father was born in the island nation of Cape Verde (near West Africa) before emigrating to the United States, and that's the inspiration behind The Cape Verdean Blues. Not all of the tracks are directly influenced by the music of Cape Verde (though some do incorporate Silver's taste for light exoticism); however, there's a spirit of adventure that pervades the entire album, a sense of exploration that wouldn't have been quite the same with Silver's quintet of old…
The Left Banke had been together for less than a year when their debut single, "Walk Away Renee," became a hit, and once the band began touring steadily, they started to fracture as Michael Brown, the group's 17-year-old wunderkind, songwriter, and pianist, decided he didn't care for life on the road. By the time the Left Banke cut their second album, Brown was out of the picture, as was producer and arranger Henry Lookofsky (he was also Brown's dad), and the lineup was down to a trio: vocalist Steve Martin-Caro, guitarist/bassist Tom Finn, and drummer George Cameron. Not promising circumstances for the creation of The Left Banke Too, but surprisingly it's a fine album that shows the group's second string had plenty of talent and a sound creative vision…
The Top 100 '60s Rock Albums represent the moment when popular music came of age. In the earliest part of the decade, bands were still regularly referencing earlier sounds and themes. By the middle, something powerful and distinct was happening, which is why the latter part of the '60s weighs so heavily on our list. A number of bands evolved alongside fast-emerging trends of blues rock, folk rock, psychedelia and hard rock, adding new complexities to the music even as the songs themselves became more topical. If there's a thread running through the Top 100 '60s Rock Albums and this period of intense change, it has to do with the forward-thinking artists who managed to echo and, in some cases, advance the zeitgeist. Along the way, legends were made.
One of the earliest Bernard Allison albums, recorded in 1992 and reissued in late 2001 (unfortunately complete with its original tacky cover art), is a middling effort from a talented bluesman who hadn't found his niche. Recorded live in the studio with his dad Luther's band in Paris, where they were living at the time, Bernard compensates for his lack of direction by playing very loud and very fast. While the band of pros keeps the music simmering, Allison's gruff voice and aggressive approach make the songs often seem like bluesy Southern rock instead of the electrified Chicago blues that his dad epitomized. Certainly the younger Allison was grieving the then-recent death of Stevie Ray Vaughan, as tunes like "Missing Stevie," the title track (which edges dangerously close to Deep Purple territory), and the closing ten-minute "Voodoo Chile Medley" (which includes excerpts from Lonnie Mack's "Wham" and Vaughan's "Testify") attest.