Word: woods
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...team is like dead wood that looks good on the outside, but has no caloric value when you put it in the fire," Marion said yesterday. It has been that kind of season...
...rest of the album, more so than on any previous Traffic albums, yet Winwood still seems unsure of his guitar playing--I've always thought it the weakest of the instruments he plays--because his wah-wah lead is way back in the song's mix. Chris Wood appears only once, with a skirling flute phrase and then fades into the background during the song's overlong one-riff finale...
...Evening Blue" is the only artistic failure. It's a nice melody, badly realized. The failures are mostly Roger Hawkins's. His snare drum work is flat, and detracts from the overall lightness. So do Rebop's congas. Wood's sax solo is short, disjointed and cliched. The song's saving grace is Steve's guitar. "Evening Blue" is a mood piece, with a pastoral opening out of "John Barleycorn." It would have been successful given the same spare treatment...
...song is brilliantly structured; each transition is smooth and subtle. The rhythm section is once again supremely simple, Winwood's piano phrases take the song through each change in tempo, with a short sax solo improvised off the second statement of the chorus. Wood's a little gimmicky here, as he is all over the album, but the mix makes him unobtrusive as well. He relies on the intensity of the chorus to carry him through. After a restatement of the second theme, the chorus carries the song...
UNDER MILK WOOD. Dylan Thomas wrote this verse play, as he put it, "for voices." The images that Director Andrew Sinclair has added to his film adaptation do not complement Thomas' language; they detract from it. The language that comes cascading off the sound track is bottled into florid captions for an illustrated travel guide to Wales. Whenever Sinclair is not being resolutely literal-minded, he diverts himself by being fantastical. It will not do for Richard Burton merely to read the first voice. He must appear, all rumpled and dour and selfabsorbed, like some wandering Welshman cursed...