Gravy Train is an album by jazz saxophonist Lou Donaldson recorded for the Blue Note label in 1961 and performed by Donaldson with Herman Foster, Ben Tucker, Dave Bailey, and Alec Dorsey. The album was awarded 3½ stars in an Allmusic review by Steve Huey who states "Gravy Train is a fine, if not quite exceptional record from Lou Donaldson's initial soul-jazz phase of the early '60s… Donaldson's playing is pleasant, and the rest of the supporting group maintains a steady groove throughout".
Gravy Train is a fine, if not quite exceptional record from Lou Donaldson's initial soul-jazz phase of the early '60s. Actually, given the title and the period in which it was recorded, the album isn't quite as greasy and funky overall as one might expect; most of the repertoire is devoted to pop ballads and mid-tempo standards, the latter of which tends to bring out more of the bop elements in Donaldson's playing. That's not true for the entire album, though; the title cut is a laid-back, conga-tinged, bluesy groover in the classic Donaldson mold, even if it's a bit workmanlike. Donaldson's longtime pianist, Herman Foster, is allotted quite a bit of solo space here, and he concentrates more on thick, rippling chords than single-note lines…
Although Gravy Train's career was all too brief, they still managed to switch labels midway through, resulting in two albums for Vertigo and two for Dawn Records. Strength of a dream is taken from their time with Dawn, thus consisting of the albums Second birth and Staircase to the day in their entirety, plus a number of non album A and B sides. As a pleasing bonus, we also get six tracks recorded for the band's unreleased 5th album…
Jethro Tull and Comus had a baby, and they named it Gravy Train. That's not strictly accurate, of course, but as the band's eponymous debut opens with the fluid changes of "The New One," it's not too far of a reach, either. Richly harmonic, daringly jam-laden, and peppered with guitar roars that simply defy comparison, Gravy Train is the sound of the British underground at its most joyously liberated peak - a time when a bunch of apparent freaks could simply go into a major recording studio and let rip. Except Gravy Train's concept of "letting rip" has more in common with a symphony orchestra than the Edgar Broughton Band. Without, of course, the orchestra. But there's a moment in the midst of "Think of Life" that cannot help but put one in mind of later Deep Purple, as the flute and guitar battle for supremacy, while the blues workout "Coast Road" is as breathtaking as any of that genre's better-feted exponents…
Jethro Tull and Comus had a baby, and they named it Gravy Train. That's not strictly accurate, of course, but as the band's eponymous debut opens with the fluid changes of "The New One," it's not too far of a reach, either. Richly harmonic, daringly jam-laden, and peppered with guitar roars that simply defy comparison, Gravy Train is the sound of the British underground at its most joyously liberated peak – a time when a bunch of apparent freaks could simply go into a major recording studio and let rip.
The misleading title of Gravy Train's third album refers to their migration to a new record label, and the consequent renewal of inspiration…
Unbeknown to the band at the time, Gravy Train's fourth album, Staircase to the day, would be their last. Recording of a fifth album was started, the fruits of which can be heard on the Strength of a dream anthology, but the it was never completed…
Among the lesser-feted jewels released by the Vertigo label during its swirly-logo purple patch, Gravy Train's restful hybrid of jazz-tinged virtuosity, folky pastorals, and heartfelt vocalizing peaks on this, their second album, and that despite A Ballad of a Peaceful Man doing little more than treading water when compared to the experimental peaks of its predecessor…