Audience
Friend's Friend's Friend

There aren't many vinyl records that I have elegantly taken from my family’s collection, taking advantage of the inevitable age progression and resulting memory gaps, to the benefit of my still vivid memories and the special affection I hold for some works that captivated me as a child and which even today seem to traverse my existence over the span of two sides.

This second album by AUDIENCE, released in 1970, has always lived in the shadow of the subsequent and more celebrated THE HOUSE ON THE HILL, an album that boasts impeccable production, and every time I've stumbled upon the name GUS DUDGEON in the credits of a record, often that record has magically ended up under my arm. But in this case, and it's the reason that urged me to write this review, I think it's right to dispel the certainty that has consistently aligned unanimous judgments on the discography of this underrated English band.

The year 1970 is certainly the turning point in their albeit short career: coming off a live experience as the backing band for LED ZEPPELIN, with a sly JIMMY PAGE ready to memorize the chords of MAIDEN'S CRY keeping them handy for those in STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN, they caught the eye of TONY STRATTON SMITH, the boss of CHARISMA, who was seeking talents for his dazzling roster: the previous contract with POLYDOR was ended and the band found themselves in the recording studio without an official producer, an unusual choice for the times.

What could be expected from a young quartet, without studio guidance, without an electric guitarist and without a keyboardist? Certainly talent, and truly special songwriting: with these characteristics, Stratton Smith could count himself lucky visiting the Olympic and Morgan Studios in London, peeking at the young men working in full creative freedom, like a landlord pleased with his free-range chickens raised on the ground.

And so is the sound, absolutely ANTI-GMO, far from trappings and baroque elements that brazenly crept in that scene, almost as if to emphasize a non-alignment, opting for a style of their own already present in the debut album but not yet in focus, with the best cards still to play.

A vigorous rhythm section is what is needed for the lyrics of NOTHING YOU DO, full of palpable impatience rendered by the very distinctive vocal timbre of HOWARD WERTH, whose gritty extension is second only to that of ROGER CHAPMAN, a gift from a listening background filled with RAY CHARLES and JAMES BROWN. His nylon-strung acoustic guitar is equally aggressive, at times almost electrified, always awaiting the wind instrument excursions of KEITH GEMMELL, whether it's an overdubbed double clarinet or a flute outburst, these are extraordinary inventions. BELLADONNA MOONSHINE, with their take on a folk flair, has the potential of the hit singles that label mates LINDISFARNE would soon propose, but here it lacks that pandering quality, and IT BRINGS A TEAR proves it with a killer melody from a lost ballad that's hard to forget. Any producer would have ravaged the free-wheeling improvisation that reigns in RAID, a long episode narrating the Viking attempts to invade the British Isles, almost hard in interpretative tension and an unrivaled Prog-Psych jewel. The delights continue in RIGHT ON THEIR SIDE, supported by an exciting rhythm, TREVOR WILLIAMS and TONY CONNOR develop ideas balancing between jazz and hard rock, a fragrant humus for unstoppable voices and winds. A break is gently offered by EBONY VARIATIONS, a sort of Elizabethan sketch for solo clarinet, initially formal, then free to express itself as it wishes, even in the manner of an accelerated quadrille...a wonderful oddity. PRIESTESS, with its macabre and anti-clerical lyrics, almost a precursor to certain themes by IAN ANDERSON in AQUALUNG, alternates an energetic vocal part with a splendid central interlude of genuine free-jam to return to the initial theme in an extraordinary manner...these guys played astonishingly!

Unfortunately, it was soon realized that free-range chickens are lovely, but if caged and fed on industrial mash, they would yield more....this would become the notable and overly orchestrated THE HOUSE ON THE HILL...needless to say, the free fantasy of this album was already a memory.

I HAD A FRIEND, WHO HAD A FRIEND THAT KNEW A MAN

THAT DIDN'T LOOK UNLIKE TOULOUSE LAUTREC.

Just that line is worth a 5...;-)