| Track: | Rating: | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. Out In The Sun | | | | ||
| 2. Rana Batucada | | | | | |
| 3. Nervous Breakdown | | | | ||
| 4. Silver Screen | | | | ||
| 5. Tentacles | | | |||
| 6. Kabala | | | | | |
| 7. Love-Hate-Sun-Rain-You | | | |||
| 8. Time For A Change | | | | | |
I really feel as though I owe Patrick Moraz an apology. I actually like most of his solo albums, but the ones that have turned up so far on the Tentative Reviews series can't help but portray him in a bad light.
Some readers may remember that Timecode (1983) was the subject of the third ever Tentative Review. That album is almost certainly the worst of Moraz's solo career. And although Out In The Sun is better, it still isn't terribly impressive.
Perhaps Patrick has a valid excuse for being off his game plan in 1977. He had, after all, just been fired from Yes under circumstances which remain unclear to this day. It is now known that he remained with the band through the beginning of the Going For The One sessions, only to have his performances unceremoniously cut after his departure. In a contemporary interview, Moraz blamed the entire situation on the politics of the band's management. Jon Anderson was once heard referring to Patrick as a "space cadet", and Chris Squire has suggested that he never really interacted well with the other group members. Regardless of what exactly happened, it's clear that the circumstances of Moraz's departure have left some resentment on both sides, which seems to have remained to the present day.
Moraz's financial situation may not have been entirely secure either, which might go some way to explaining the amateurish production on some of Out In The Sun. Unfortunately, though, this excuse can't entirely explain the shoddy nature of much of the material itself.
Patrick has never been the best lyricist in the world, and his ability at finding lead vocalists of questionable ability is about on par with Yes's other former keyboardists. As such, the fact that six of the album's eight tracks contain vocals doesn't bode terribly well for the overall quality of the work. Listening to the album easily verifies such fears, sadly.
The album actually begins on a reasonably proficient note with "Out In The Sun", a Caribbean/jazz-fusion based track devoted to the theme of dancing freely in the equatorial sun (that the keyboards sound a bit like kettle drums at the beginning is probably no accident). The bass on this track fits with the rest of the music fairly well, and there's enough of interest happening to make this fairly lightweight track listenable for its short duration. On the down side, there seems to be a trace of disco stylings along the edges, and John McBurnie's singing is as uninspiring as ever. Moraz provides a fairly brief pitch-wheel solo in mid-song -- it's okay, but nothing terribly special.
"Rana Batucada" is an instrumental, and one of the better tracks on the album. After beginning with a keyboard sample of running water, the track transforms into a "jungle rhythms" number of the sort that Moraz has tried on a number of his solo works (in fact, I'm fairly certain that a sample which appears in this song was used on other albums as well). The song as a whole is a fairly good fusion number, with numerous pitch-wheel experimentations. This isn't terribly different from some material on other PM solo albums, but it's fairly good on its own terms (alternately, one could argue that Moraz deliberately re-explored the themes of this track on the rather superior Patrick Moraz album, released the following year).
The next few songs are rather less successful. "Nervous Breakdown" (another McBurnie track) seems deliberately styled as a conventional pop number -- the "hook", which isn't terribly interesting, is stated in the first few seconds of the song. Gomez's guitar part isn't bad, if not quite world class; Moraz himself, though, doesn't seem to be doing terribly much. And while "I'm simple and anemic" may be a clever refrain, it's not enough to justify the song. This one is disposable.
The opening section to "Silver Screen" brings the album to a new low, taking fusion-balladery through a predictable path of boredom. McBurnie's vocals are nothing short of terrible, and the schmaltzy music doesn't tend to help matters (irrespective of whether it was a deliberate reference to the title of the song or not). A freer, semi-improvised instrumental section follows at the end -- this saves the song from being a total disaster, but it ultimately can't redeem the wretchedness of the opening section.
"Tentacles" is the last of the McBurnie tracks, and the worst. The lyrics here are absolutely wretched ("You're fooling with my tentacles" is the opening line), and the song as a whole just seems to be another bad idea in the series. The keys aren't as bad as the rest of the song, but can't even come close to salvaging this one.
The instrumental "Kabala" is a mixed success at best. The track begins with a fairly interesting drum rhythm, over which Moraz provides a few Emerson-esque keyboard lines. After this, he shifts to a more laid-back approach over the same active percussive base; it's not bad, though Moraz's role brings to mind some of the worst tendencies of New Age at times. More Emerson-esque sections follow at the end of the track. Not really an essential track in the history of Moraz's solo career, this still compares favourably enough with the works surrounding it.
"Love-Hate-Sun-Rain-You" is a nadir of sorts for the album, and a suggestion that the genre of "fusion-metal" was doomed for the very beginning. The track begins in a fairly stealthful manner, with slightly dissonant sonic waves and average band fusion suggesting little of the disaster to come. Suddenly, Francois Zmirou's horrendous vocals emerge through the mix, instantly turning the entire endeavour into self-parody. The lyrics, loosely based on some vague perception of liberty, are bad enough to fit the voice appropriately enough, verifying that internal symbiosis of this sort doesn't necessarily make the result any more interesting to the external listener. Some pointless guitar wankery makes an unwelcome appearance as well.
It seems oddly appropriate that the following track would be entitled "Time For A Change". Setting aside the embarrassments which taint the rest of the album, Moraz actually sets aside the space to create a decent musical suite here. This track is divided into four sections -- the first, "Time To Fly", is primarily a "mood" piece, setting the tone for that which follows with a few understanding dissonant keyboard effects and percussive sounds. This is followed by "Big Bands Of Ancient Temples", which features some of the best keyboard work on the album -- the piece is long enough to include some decent variations, the multi-layered keyboard effects work well, and the "grandeur" section is fairly well executed. "Serenade", the third section, consists entirely of a solo piano performance, rather akin to some of his more recent material; his classical training comes to the foreground in this musical emulation of the Romantic Era. Finally, the album concludes with "Back To Nature", featuring Vivienne McAuliffe on vocals of a considerably better variety than those in the previous tracks. The lyrics seem to revolve around a combination of decadence and innocence, the latter of which is punctuated by the birdsong sample on occasion. The fretless bass works well too. This isn't quite as good as the previous two sections, but it still has a solid position on the "bell curve" for this release.
Although diehard Moraz fans will undoubtedly find some worthwhile material here, the overall quality of the album is not high enough to recommend it to a more casual progressive fan. Patrick Moraz would be a much better choice for those interested in this period in PM's career.