It's a sleepy Saturday afternoon, and the merciless so-called "divine" one has finally released the Northeast from his plague of rain. Since my birthday missive, I've had nothing to really add to Flaming Pablum (I'm waiting to be struck by inspiration), but in the interim, since it's the perfect album for a lovely Autumnal day like today, I've exhumed and expanded this thread from the ILM boards regarding Traffic's splendid album, The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys. Please enjoy.
A seemingly incongruous choice of albums to praise coming from one such as I? Perhaps, but for one reason or another, this classic rock radio staple has managed to infiltrate the blood-splattered, barbed-wired battlements of my normally firmly-closed mind. I remember hearing the gentle, somnambulistic lope of the sprawling title track back in the days when I didn't bother getting riled up about genre distinctions (i.e. prior to hearing proper Punk Rock for the first time). Sure, Dave Mason and Steve Winwood are both guilty of inummerable crimes in their respective solos careers (I'm sure Jim Capaldi has done his fair share of wankery as well), but for "Hidden Treasure" and the afore-mentioned title track alone, I'd spare their otherwise wretched lives (though not before giving Winwood a proper, painful goose-egg on the noggin with a rifle-butt for everything he's recorded from Back in the High Life onward). But I digress...
For some reason, Low Spark... is a record I can never seem to get sick of. It's certainly not right for every occaision, but its melifluous mellowness, jazzy atmospherics and instant ambience-conjuring have acted as the perfect accompaniment to everything from a sunsplashed afternoon drive through Vermont through a long, smouldering soak in a warm, late night bath. The album also entertains the rare distinction of being an album that both the wife and myself equally adore (a rare feat, that, being that our respective favorite artists are as polar as can be imagined). I hate to confess it, but along with being a great album in its own right, it makes for excellent 'background' music when you're mind is concentrating on other things (which is when the Misfits, Killing Joke and Black Sabbath don't quite get the job done). It's a great Sunday afternoon record, simple as that.
There are some awkward parts. "Rock & Roll Stew" is a relatively ballsy blast after the languid tones of the title track (highlighting the diversity in style between Winwood his hirsute co-horts), but it settles in after the initial riff is established. I have no earthly idea what "The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys" is actually about. I'd love to believe that it was Winwood commenting on the New York Dolls or something, but that's purely a projection. "Many a Mile to Freedom" restores the calm for a nice seven minute stretch (augmented by drifing flute bits and sparkling guitars), only to have the hemp-championing "Light Up or Leave Me Alone" bounce things back to Capaldi's court (always more the rocker, he) with its signature descending, WAH-WUH-WAH guitar riff. The faint whiff of medieval minstrals consorting with bong-toting jazzbos permeates throughout, even in the comparitivley sombre album closer, "Rainmaker", which sounds like something the monks who club themselves in "Monty Python & the Holy Grail" might ominously intone.
I don't own any other Traffic albums, and frankly...I don't care to. This is pretty much all I need from the gentlemen in question. I'm concerned that if I heard more, I suspect I'd be as put off by proceedings as I am by many of their then-peer ensembles (Clapton and company) who never fail to bore me to absolute tears. But this record, however, remains a keeper.
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