Star People’s 20-year-old long-lost third album Black Tie & Tales has finally arrived from their self-proclaimed 11th Dimension home base. And there’s a second disc of new material added for the pleasure of curious prog, psych and everything-else music lovers, hence the subtitle of 2001/2021.
Sometimes, despite all the rational explanations in the modern world, wonderfully weird stuff still tugs at the fishing bobber, and thankfully, reminds the latent listener that there are creative currents pulsing beneath the stagnant surface. It’s just an idea, but Frank Zappa wasn’t a one off. And, even after all these years, the “gravy” is still “lumpy.”
The first disc, the lost third album, begins with “I, Starman,” which not only isn’t a David Bowie cover, but is a nine-minute excursion into Hawkwind space, with a vocal that recalls Julian Cope, and a sensuous violin that soars into the heavens. The song is in the key of tension, with dramatic guitars and swirling lovely nebula-induced keyboards. And that violin cuts through with frenzied passion.
The engine room of bass and percussion propel a surging rock ‘n’ roll beat. Indeed, when glancing through a telescope at the very musical 11th Dimension, my aging prog-loving eyes find (to quote Led Zeppelin) a “whole lotta love.”
The second song, the bass-propelled “Twister,” is even more convoluted – with a pulsing organ, wicked piano, choral vocal (that recalls Magma!), and a Robert Fripp-like guitar that slices with a razor’s unpredictable precision. It cuts a worm hole wide enough to allow a weird Rat Pack-like (yeah, that Rat Pack of Frank, Dean, Sammy, Joey and that other guy) harmonious finale that echoes some hip casino show last heard from the Sands Hotel in the mid ’60s.
In total contrast, “Space & Time’ is a brief acoustic-laced song with beautiful harmonious vocals. It’s not quite Jethro Tull’s “Wond’ring Aloud” interlude, but it’s still pretty cool.
Now, before things get really quite strange, it should be noted that the band all assume non-de-plumes to heighten the mystique. Bill Olland is “The Teacher,” Paul Gifford is “Golden Boy,” Phil Weiss is “The Helmsman,” Randy Pratt (and sort of the leader of the whole thing) is the bass-playing “Ambassador,” Robert Dean is “The Captain,” and of course, violin playing and sometime vocalist, Lorenza Ponce, is (the much-loved) “Star Girl.”
And, yes indeed, things do get quite strange. “Marriage in Space” throbs with narration that attempts to explain the origin of the universe. Thankfully, the music (with a Star Girl vocal!) floats like a Star Trek voyage without any early-series episode Klingon trouble – or for that matter, any problem with that often questionable “Prime Directive!” Truly, this crosses the inter-galactic finish line several light years before the very modern underground and wonderful band, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard’s (rather profound) Murder of the Universe.
Then, “Queen of Space” gets funky with a really nice piano solo and searing guitar bit. Vocal-friendly “The White & Black” follows, with more vocal harmony and jazzy trumpet. It’s all very odd, as “Where Did My Life Go?” is a brief Holiday Inn Stardust Lounge introspective confession. In all fairness, perhaps, the plot gets lost here. But that’s all right because the music is still pretty cool, just like those weird Kinks’ theatrical RCA albums of the ’70s.
The final two songs wrap up the original album with the Beatles-esque “Move Nearer to the Sun,” which has hazy tempo, some more narration (which delivers a punched-ticket invitation to their 11th Dimension!), and a dreamy John Lennon-like open-throttled vocal. It’s really nice. And in the end, the Star People deliver a spot-on cover of “A Day in the Life,” that manages to stretch into just a hint of “I Am the Walrus.”
My friend Kilda Defnut, while listening to this album said, “This is kind of like Rocky Horror, except there’s no Brad and Janet, Columbia, Magenta, Dr. Frank-N-Furter, or Eddie, but at least Riff Raff finally comes clean about being a progressive rock devotee.” So, as the saying goes, “How about that.”
And, as Gary Brooker (RIP) and his Procol Harum once sang, “But still there’ll be more,” because the band recorded an album of new tunes in 2021. It begins with the sonically tough “Hot Blue Star,” which could well be a tribute to (the great!) Peter Hammill.
The lead vocals bang on the dead-ringer bell, and the sound has the intensity of Van der Graaf Generator’s Vital: Live album. However, in true Star People fashion, the song gets guitar heavy and then morphs into a harmonica-fueled blues romp. Yeah, it’s all very wonderfully strange. Perhaps, “H to He” still matters, even in the 11th Dimension. And, of course, the violin scorched prog music certainly glances at Van Der Graff’s The Quiet Zone/The Pleasure Dome, an album that lost a Generator and a Jackson, but gained Graham Smith.
Then, “Twisted” re-visits King Crimson’s Red-era mighty blitz zone, with the Lizard Keith Tippett fractured jazzy piano sound. It’s quite incredible for fans of Fripp & Company. Next, “Regal” returns with Lorenza Bonce (aka Star Girl!) and her otherworldly violin playing.
It’s almost a prelude to the next series of songs that mix a combination of narration and sung vocals, and discuss the end of our universe and the birth into a better existence. The album then chugs with more piano, heavy guitar, and frenzied violin into “Quantum,” which suddenly gets funky while the vocals chant a ritualistic mantra. Let’s just say that the gravy gets pretty lumpy here. That said, the dense sound continues to warp space and time.
“Wild Granny” growls and prowls with yet another Fripp-like solo. And the dark gravity continues with more talk-sung narration in “No More Stars,” which creates an apocalyptic vision that, thankfully, suggests via “a universe that was born to die” that there may well be a “new beginning of black holes.” It leaves the listener with the thought of “momma, I’m cold” – which perhaps is sort of like what the Rolling Stones meant with the words, “It’s only rock ‘n’ roll, but I like it.”
Oh, my: This crash course in astrophysics certainly scuppers my thought that Peter Gabriel in his “Colony of Slipperman” costume was the ultima thule of prog-rock perception. Then, the music cuts an even deeper furrow in “The Pact,” a sinister dissertation with Uriah Heep’s Magician’s Birthday guitar gusto to burn. This music is worn-and-torn vinyl groove stuff, and it burns with continuous eldritch fire.
Star Girl belts the bluesy song “The Morning Star,” which I assume is still part of this “end of times” thematic concept. Then there’s yet another ritual chant, while the music percolates like the five rivers of Hades. As with all good rock ‘n’ roll music, this song does “twist and shout” a lot.
Of course, (as expected!) the final song “Exit, Stage Left” contains the secret of the universe: The patented Star People lounge singer returns to drink “one more for the road.” Then the band fires on all psych-prog cortex-tingling cylinders — with bulging gravity-bumped light waves and a narration that sort of explains the entire cosmic concept and wondrously weird music that whirls like a dervish. Then suddenly, with airbag-abrupt certainty, he sings with the Las Vegas Rat Pack vibe that ties the universe into a tidy bowtie white-tux knot (with a brandy old-fashion in hand) and returns to the initial and very catchy “wanna be a starman” refrain.
As said, Frank Zappa wasn’t a one off. And thank the universe that still circulates with the stuff that tugs the fishing bobber because as said (again!) there are so many creative currents pulsing beneath the stagnant surface. And these two albums await that deep perceptive dive.
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