PAUL BRETT

One disappointment is the lack of documentation on precisely the formation of SAGE for this release, as it is even debatable whether a hardcopy version exists that could be consulted. It seems a bit disrespectful not to acknowledge these more than capable accompanists, as I doubt that BRETT played all instruments.

I suppose much of the healthier stretches of BRETT's last few years were consumed with the compilation of his "Stone Survivor" 4 CD anthology set that was issued by Cherry Red a few years back. I'm not sure I will get to that one but "Eclectic" and its successor "The Devil's Whisper" see him stepping off the curb with a dignified and sly smile.

The best is the title cut, with an immediate hook that is almost enough in itself, but gains urgency from there, even if the bullet appears metaphoric. My only trifle is it's a bit too short. "Blood in the City" follows on the theme of violence symbolic or otherwise and is an ode to 1970s melodic riff rock. The final track "Chaos" first appeared, as far as I am aware, on Brett's 1979 album "Eclipse", where, along with the only other vocal track, was woefully incongruous with the rest of that fine disk. This version appears to be lifted from that recording but fits much better with its kindred spirits.

The return of SAGE, as well as late collaboration with old friend GORDON GILTRAP and a wide ranging and informative interview with "It's Psychedelic Baby" magazine less than a year before his passing, tell the story of a man who came full circle and hit his targets more often than not.

Considering that "Anal Tap" is 30 years the senior of "Phoenix Future", it's a similar record of acoustic bluesy folk, but this one is entirely rendered by Brett alone, and his virtuosity yields to his agenda time and again. Nonetheless, "Earth" and "Cocaine", in particular, blend both to near perfection, and "Cult of Celebrity" is a rare lively moment and appreciated as such. Just cover your little dears' ears!

Of limited interest beyond Brett's own collectors, "Anal Tap" won't sit well with prog purists of any stripe, but some might appreciate his unwillingness to turn the other cheek.

While not quite as fiery and impactful as that first PAUL BRETT SAGE album in 1970, this is still an engaging blend of mostly acoustic mostly folk rock, admittedly without many of the prog aspects of the SAGE work. Beginning with the plucky instrumental "The Ant", its other virtues are best experienced through the tongue in cheek "Mr Custer"; the morose TOM RAPP like "Handful of Rain" with flute by Rob Young; the latin accented "Spanish Main" with Mike Piggot's violin and more flutes; and the more lively "Motherless Child on a Merry Go Round". As before, Brett knows how to choose and extract the best of his accompanists, which has tended to elevate those collaborative albums above those where he reigns alone.

Perhaps not the most exciting of releases, this is still a mostly sunny slice of 1970s folk with rock and pop aspects from a perennially underappreciated artist.

While the prescience of the poem can hardly be argued, the causes of impending Imperial collapse that it advances are more open to debate, and wouldn't pass muster today from a political perspective. Among them are the abandonment of state religion in favor of money and the female eschewance of femininity. From some of Brett's own compositions I suspect that he was a more conservative sort, but no matter. HIs interpretation is at times masterful, particularly when he rocks harder, assuredly never abandoning his folky earnestness in the process. While not in the league of "Thick as a Brick", it's a worthy point of comparison, which is remarkable given that Brett is responsible for every sound you hear.

I won't give you any spoilers should you want to curl up with this text and listen along, but suffice to say that the old coot of a fox's prophecy has still not fully unfolded, but exactly where we are in the story is open to discussion, as it must have been 150 years ago.

I don't remember even seeing this one in Canadian shops at the time, let alone seeing one of those obnoxious 4 minute infomercials from Ktel. Since "Interlife" and "Eclipse" made me a fan a year prior, I doubt I would have missed any such promotion. But Brett was very much then and remained an Englishman to the end. Unfortunately, my 1 star rating for PETE BARDENS' posthumous release still tormenting me, it's with some trepidation that I review a record that could only with inauthentic bluster be considered in an overall positive light.

"Romantic Guitar" is essentially elevator music, with those simpering strings suffocating Brett's finger picking delights at every turn. All that saves it from the junkyard are the instances where Brett does manage to wring out the intrinsic strengths of the original compositions: "Forever Autumn", originally appearing on the previous album "Guitar Trek", "Aint no Sunshine", "The Boxer", and the Latin luminescence of "Concerto de Aranjuez". His electric guitar virtuosity even squeaks in here or there. Guilty pleasure award goes to "The Way We Were", an elevator music version of elevator music?

This won't be the last of my Paul Brett reviews, as several releases from recent years need to be added to his prolific discography here. Perhaps I'm just a romantic at heart, but I am going to round up from 1.5 stars. Best avoided.

One of the strengths of PAUL BRETT's occasional resurrections of the SAGE name in recent years lies in his use of electric guitars under this moniker to complement his unplugged plucking, not to mention his crustily benevolent vocals. This added variety allows the flow of numbers to breeze by in fortuitous succession. From the upbeat opener "From the Cradle to the Grave" to the raucous "Life on Earth" (in which he musically references his sweet "This Side of Heaven" from a bygone 1970s classic) featuring MEL COLLINS on ripping sax, to the bouncy title cut with some of his most appetizing electric licks in recent memory, this collection keeps beckoning me back to its gruff musings. He also skillfully whips in story songs like "the Oval Portrait", which also appears on his "solo" "The Raven" release, and the outlaw sympathizing "Ballad of Charlie Peace". Brett also knows how to dissipate the clouds just often enough to sidestep outright dreariness, as evidenced by the brightly acoustic "Happy Bunnies" and the African shaded "Sun".

It's heartwarming to hear some of the artists who were "there" during the height of musical creativity of the early 1970s still turning out music that both challenges and entertains, and with a devil may care attitude that Paul Brett has come by honestly.

The pure meter of so many of the man's poems lends itself so well to Brett's haunting acoustic reveries. "The Bride" and "The Conquering Worm" are both chilling delicacies in the hands of this man's weather worn voice and cavernous guitar. The album closes with one of only two short stories that are interpreted, "The Pit and the Pendulum", which first appeared on PAUL BRETT's SAGE "Emergence" comeback album from the mid 2010s, and from which one can assume this collection has germinated. This somewhat compensates for a notable sag in quality in the back 40, which sound like they were composed and performed on the fly. Brett's guitar technique is so exhilarating that it can carry almost any piece on its own, and the lyrics, even if not his, prevent the interpretations from sinking into the well of guitar picking instructional videos.

in a sense, this is a companion piece to Brett's "Songs from the Compleat Angler", which was as squinty-eyed sunshine to Poe's dark imaginings. One may be idealistically carefree and the other profoundly morose, but they are birds of a feather in Paul Brett's capable hands.