Sunday, 7 August 2011
Medicine Head - Rising Sun (1973/ No. 11/ 9 weeks/ Polydor)
"Ooh when you speak its just like a symphony
Ooh your fingers touch me with poetry
Don't underestimate what you mean to me
You're like a constant glimpse of the rising sun"
Few genres of music seem less appealing to me than 'blues-rock', which suggests worthiness without the sense of necessity that the old bluesmen had. But this is dandy!
It can only be described as a groove, a bassline that details flake off of and embellish; an echoing riff or knocking of drums, a spacey bit of keyboard, a twanging spring. It's locked-on - a happy sentiment - rather addictive.