Tag Archives: Billy Payne

Lotta Love – Nicolette Larson

So here’s an embarassing confession. I wrote this on an evening train from Manchester to London only to find the next day that I’d already published a piece about this song! Oh well, I like this one better, so I’ve junked the old one. This is what happens when you’ve been running a blog for three and a half years and lack of Wi-Fi means you can’t check your archives…

Imagine an album produced by Ted Templeman, and featuring the instrumental talents of Paul Barrere, Victor Feldman, Michael McDonald, Billy Payne, Klaus Voorman, Herb Pedersen, Fred Tackett, Albert Lee, Chuck Findlay, Jim Horn, Plas Johnson and Eddie Van Halen. Released on Warners, with a cover photo by Joel Bernstein. That record would be basically the most 1970s thing ever. Or maybe the second-most 1970s thing ever, after Rickie Lee Jones’s first album.

That record is Nicolette, the solo debut album by Nicolette Larson, which spawned a huge hit single in her version of Neil Young’s Lotta Love.

Larson had sung backing vocals on Young’s Comes a Time, which featured his own ramshackle reading of Lotta Love, on which he was backed by Crazy Horse rather than the Stray Gators, who were on the rest of the record. Lotta Love, Young has said, was his response to his road crew playing Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours day after day. That isn’t exactly the same as an attempt to write a Fleetwood Mac-style song, and Lotta Love didn’t have the lyrical depth of a Stevie Nicks composition, the deceptively lushness of a Lindsey Buckingham arrangement, or the steady groove of anything graced by John McVie and Mick Fleetwood. Frankly, it’s a little hard to hear Young’s reading of Lotta Love as in any way Mac influenced.

Larson’s Lotta Love (which she claimed Young encouraged her to record after she heard the song on a cassette tape Young left in his car), on the other hand, sounds like Stevie Nicks being taken to the disco. The standard mix of the song, rhythmically, is pure Mac, with Fleetwood’s trademark heartbeat kick-drum pattern (most associated with Dreams) present throughout verses and choruses, with a subtle hint of disco in the middle-eight’s four-on-the-floor kick drum and busier hi-hat figures. On top of this rhythmic chassis is electric piano, a prominent sax riff and soul-influenced rhythm guitar, all of which take it a way away from FM territory. Ted Templeman (Doobie Brothers, Van Halen) was an astute producer who knew what would sell. Fleetwood Mac playing disco? In 1978? That’d sell. It did.

Fortunately the record feels a lot less cynical than that makes it sound. Larson had a quite wonderful voice, and on Lotta Love her enthusiasm for the material was palpable. In harmony with Young on Comes a Time, she sounded a little like Emmylou Harris, but on her own record, her voice stood revealed as its own thing: soulful, sweet but slightly husky, and touch of grit in her higher range. With such strong material to work with, the success of Lotta Love was the most natural thing in the world. Unfortunately, Larson (not a prolific songwriter herself) would seldom have such strong material to work with; a forgettable duet with Steve Wariner is her only other notable chart success, and her albums are stuffed with little-known songs by fine writers of the calibre of Andrew Gold, Jackson Browne and Holland-Dozier-Holland, almost as if she was hunting for another Lotta Love in the overlooked work of these big-name writers. It never quite happened;  not as simple as it seemed, Lotta Love’s brand of deceptively casual perfection proved impossible to recreate.

Larson died in 1997, of liver failure and cerebral edema. She was 45 – far, far too young.

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Boulder to Birmingham – Emmylou Harris

Boulder to Birmingham is Emmylou Harris’s shattered – and shattering – response to the death of Gram Parsons, from her solo debut Pieces of the Sky (she had put out a pre-Parsons folk record, Gliding Bird, that had sunk without trace, and so Sky is usually considered her debut proper). Pieces of the Sky features many of the same musicians who had played on Parsons’ GP and Grievous Angel, which I have written about before here. In that post I made a few grouses about the work of the backing band – Elvis Presley’s TCB Band – on those albums. Some of those same guys are present here too (James Burton, Glen D. Hardin, Ron Tutt), along with such quality players from the world of country rock as Bernie Leadon, Ben Keith, Billy Payne and Byron Berline. But Harris and producer Brian Ahern pulled much greater performances from the supporting cast than had been evident on Gram’s records, though. With Emmylou leading them, the band do far more than just take care of business. This isn’t showbiz. Instead, there’s a real emotional wallop on this record that I don’t find on the majority of Parsons’ solo material (but do find on the first Burritos record, just in case it seems like I’m being a Gram hater. Parsons was a frequently inspired songwriter, but I think his best recorded work was done with Chris Hillman, not James Burton, regardless of who was the better guitar player).

Harris is a reliable singer and can breathe life into even the flimsiest material (God knows she’d have to do some of that in her time), but when paired with a song of substance, she’s devastating, the keening edge of her voice just cutting right through to the song’s emotional core. But in all her long career, she’s probably never topped this vocal, and as a writer, she’s never topped this song.

The aural integrity of the recording and the quality of the musicianship evident on this record don’t come cheap, though, and Pieces of the Sky was apparently the most expensive country record ever made at the time of its release. Fortunately it was a mainstream hit and began Harris’s successful Nashville career, which lasted until 1995, when, in her late forties and facing diminishing returns in the era of Shania Twain and Faith Hill, she released Wrecking Ball and began a second career that straddled the worlds of alternative rock and trad country.

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