This mostly fabulous sounding 10 LP set cut almost exclusively from original analog master tapes puts into focus a so-called “in between” period for Miles: between the end of the Kind of Blue era and the beginning of the Miles/Shorter/Hancock/Carter/Williams quintet era chronicled on Mosaic's The Complete Studio Recordings of The Miles Davis Quintet 1965-1968 (Mosaic MQ 10-177).
The nearly extinct art of the direct to disc recording got a small boost recently with two produced by Acoustic Sounds' (www.acousticsounds.com) Chad Kassem at his Salina, Kansas Blue Heaven Studios.
Despite being an agnostic with an outright hostility towards religion, this double Grammy winning gospel/rock set by Ben Harper and The Blind Boys of Alabama masterfully recorded at Capitol's historic Studio B Hollywood Studio has spent more time on my turntable and iPod than most of what's been released lately.
If any Byrds music deserves to be heard stripped of its vocals, it's the exploratory jazz and raga influenced instrumental tracks produced for the Fifth Dimension sessions. Having fallen under the influence of Ravi Shankar and John Coltrane, the band spent long nights in the studio jamming, finally producing its epic “Eight Miles High” along with the rest of the album, some of which was not quite as accomplished.
The veteran Irish singer Mary Black is probably better known among American audiophiles than among the general music-loving populace because her recordings are exquisite sounding, audiophiles tend to dig chick singers, and for some reason Black has never received major radio airplay.
The $3000 moving-coil (MC) PhD, available from Chad Kassem's Acoustic Sounds operation, is a monumental achievement that, for me, sets new standards for the cleanness and transparency possible in a phono preamp—and I've had a lot of experience with phono preamps.
Shortly after Motel's Adrian Milan rediscovered Wilson and was busy reissuing the landmark recording, Milan played the record for documentary film director Michael Volk, who shared Motel's penchant for oddball 70's film soundtracks.
Back in 1977 while shopping for Sun Ra records in my favorite Philly store, I discovered this bizarre-looking album. The cover featured the artist, Gary Wilson, posing in an early-'60s mod suit and funny sunglasses, in what turned out to be his parents' basement. The back jacket was another basement shot of Wilson, this time in his underwear, lying amidst a tangle of recording tape, wires and covered with baking flour. There were also song titles and the artist's address in upstate New York, but nothing else.
Q: Is this, in fact, the very first time the albums have been digitally re-mastered from the original multi-track masters?
A: No, but I’ll tell you what they are. There were some mixes that I used the multi-tracks for and I’ll get to that, but these are re-mastered from the original two-track masters. In all honesty, I’d love to put that feather in my cap, but those masters have been used before; although I can’t speak for the very first editions of CD’s that came out in the ‘80’s…