NEW YORK BAZAAR (OLD CURIOSITY SHOP)

Some have said that Mario Barbaja's first two albums were the only two that mattered out of his four 1970s releases, and that the next two were "lesser" somehow. I'm going to push back on that notion because New York Bazaar is an album that deserves much love. I'll grant this much. Megh is probably his most tastefully presented and refined album in some ways, and it's probably the one that RPI aficionados new to Barbaja should begin with. Megh strikes me as his most earnest work, like he spent time on those songs adorning them with the attention that abounds in a young artist. The result is a lovely classic-era album for sure. But with New York Bazaar, it sounds like Barbaja was in a different headspace entirely. This album is saucy and loose. Here it sounds like he's trying to have more fun musically, throw everything at the wall, and be adventurous while remaining generally in an art rock format, ie, not really "prog" as we tend to define stuff here.

Barbaja recalls that the album was rehearsed and recorded at night and that the atmosphere was a good time. Musically, I would start by saying he has left Megh in the rear view mirror with this album. While there is still a bit of that "Italian songs" flavor in the cracks and crevices, this album takes those forks in the road toward that mid-to-late '70s art rock direction. One might hear influences as diverse as Roxy Music, solo Lennon, Neil, Zappa, Elton, glam, campy '50s send-ups, and probably some Italian pop bands as well. Very strangely, this album reminded me a lot of Jerry Garcia's Cats Under the Stars, one of my favorite albums, but it hadn't been released yet. So perhaps it is Mario who influenced Jerry cosmically? While this album is a bit all-over-the-map---it's a shop of curios, after all---it ends up being cohesive in its own definition. Don't look for much in the way of symphonic progressive rock here, but there's great songs, honest singing, furious saxophone performances, cultural homage, and tons of playfulness beyond the humorous album intro/outros.

"Da Momo Kitsch" leads off with a trippy number that Syd Barrett would've approved of. "Super Supermarket" has the coolest detached-sounding female vocal opposite Mario while quirky, off-putting music twinks away, one of many earworms. "Lady Drive-in" attempts to meld '50s background to hard rock vocals to country fiddle. As crazy as that written description sounds, the song works! "Norma, No, No, No..." is a "Candle in the Wind" styled tribute, albeit jazzier, with the heartwarming recollection of what many young boys coming of age felt about Marilyn at the time. "Superflash" is such a strange little acoustic number with a repeating woodwind motif, violin, and odd keyboard sounds. There is "O.K." which uses dreamlike female vocals in a beautiful choral arrangement over piano, like a strange lullaby. "Scampoli" is the longest track (over six minutes) and very eclectic. Barbaja says this is the track that most fondly reminds him of the "happening" scene that was the making of this album. "Good Morning Hiroshima" is another standout piece with its haunting, distorted piano eulogy and wordless female vocals.

"Momo (the one on the cover of New York Bazaar) is a cynical and mischievous god, the son of Night and Sleep, the brother of Madness. The others kicked him out of Olympus, and he took refuge in Latin America where he became King Momo, the god of the carnival. For me he is the shopping god." -M.B.

This album is indeed a shop of curiosities as the subtitle suggests. For me, at the moment, this is my favorite Barbaja release. It exudes enthusiasm and creativity and a wonderful weirdness. It truly makes me smile with the magic that was so prevalent in so many Italian releases of this era, even the ones that were not well known. If you're an RPI fan who also likes eclectic art rock and doesn't mind shorter songs without long "proggy" soloing, you should meet King Momo.