Trevor Rabin - Rio

 There's a fire burning

When you are fifty years in to your exploration of music, the same rules apply as they do to all the elements of your life, almost. It's not quite expand or die, more expand, circle or die. 

From my first single (Martha Reeves & The Vandellas, Dancing in The Street) to yesterday’s Radio 3 jewels, gems and mysteries and everywhere in between I have been trying to hear music better. I hear harmonics, progressions and melodic connections that I could not have begun to appreciate in 1968. The nuances are more apparent, the structure clearer and yet ultimately, like all art, more than anything in 2023, I want to be moved and touched.

What of the other side of the equation, the musician whose age I share? Trevor’s stated intent for his first solo vocal project since 1989, was to grow his musical vocabulary and try literally anything and see what happens.

At an intellectual level, my one burning question was, would he be able to deploy all the experience he had garnered from his work on film scores into something more wide ranging, nuanced, grand and emotional.

When I first became aware of Trevor, my bands had spent a decade creating, from a standing start. For ten years, they had no idea where they were going until it was no longer an adventure. It had become a vested interest that had to be nourished, and along comes Trevor, who was consciously trying to "break" in Europe and the United States. Here was a 'next generation' musician who had all the knowledge and skills, he just had to decide how to deploy them in a way that would, to be brutal, get him a recording contract and lead to success. He already had the girls, that box had been ticked!

I have always considered Trevor a knowing musician, who could always deploy superb session musician skills. Crucially though, however talented, what I wanted, and which has some times felt lacking, was an emotional context to his music.

At 68 he wants to communicate again and he wisely chose to do so on matters that are important to him. So what we have here is his most open and heartfelt project.

 

Rio achieves in a number of ways. It restates, circles, some of his musical tics. The entertaining Big Mistakes; the clever, mood swinging Push, with its trail of quotes from The Affirmatives, even finishing with the oh so quiet string surge chord of the ending of Arriving UFO; and the cinematic angst ridden calling to prayer for our walled freedom (the perfectly perceived dichotomy) of Oklahoma. But here is more than restatement and updates. It also takes South African Jive, Country, Smooth Jazz and 'Rabinizes’ them.  

With such an interesting musician you cannot take all the songs and drop them into two categories (ie., Expand and circles). Thandi is an inverted musical statement about his trademark disruptive musical strategies. In this case, the loud abrasive narrative is the core song, the disruption, that is nested, is, in this instance, the comfort music. The disruption begins with a four to the floor rock anthem and then the disruption is disrupted by a wonderful swaying reggae riff - a celebration of the magnificent animal under the microscope of Trevor's attentions.  This happens several times before the core song, the mad cap hell-for-leather work, is re-established and takes the listener to the end of the piece, powered by a rather good impersonation of Animal on the drums. This is also true of the spirited energetic Goodbye, which could have been a straight-ahead country song on speed but instead is interrupted by big rock choruses. Music like this is impressive, entertaining and, despite the hard-hitting lyrics of Thandi, is more to be admired and enjoyed rather than to be emotionally transportive. They are intellectually stimulating, rather than pull at the heart.

Oklahoma, Tumbleweed and These Tears (and Fragile) are easier on the ear, allow you in, and do pull at the heart. They are not, though, in Diana Krall territory; they are full of ideas (quotes from Chris Squire and John McLaughlin) both instrumentally and presentationally.

Note:

I mentioned Fragile, the most notable quality, other than missing Anderson’s bridge and Wakeman’s soloing of the roughly mixed ARW version, is it is slightly slower, demonstrating the original recording speed, with more lyrical guitar work. It comes over as more meditative than the version released to the radio. The performance is different and between the two other instrumentals fits well.  

Two pieces, however, which appeal to both the head and the heart are Paradise and Egoli, at their core is a message of the impact of greed, corruption and short term narrow self-advancement, which ultimately leads to decay, breakdown and a failure to address the real issues of Disunited Kingdom and South Africa. However, the musical landscape is highly evolved, taking musical styles and presenting them in a new and dynamic way. Dare I say offering a musical progression from Trevor? It is not simply taking an established "Prog Rock" way of doing things and repeating them; the musical catchment area for his inspiration is much broader. This music is not turning back on its origins and repeating itself, risking diminishing returns, it is looking outwards, gathering things in offering something fresh. That jive feel may have been hinted at on Big Generator's I’m Running, but here it is given full bloom. Let’s look more closely at just these two pieces.

 

Paradise

It starts in typical rock bravado manner but quickly moves away, with some processed vocals from which emerges the central lyrical message. Using that evolving vocal approach adds an extra dynamic, giving the exposed vocal with its impassioned narrative, more weight. The rhythms are highly syncopated, a kind of world jive feel which is, of course, entirely on point as a counter to the vocal narrative. This is cross pollination music: stateless, broad in scope, where motives and musical ideas transcend their origins. 

After the verses, a tremendous dobro sounding guitar solo, so musical, quite different from the clinical playing of Talk, before a wordless jive chorus propels the middle section and is joined by a guitar sounding very musical, almost Hammond Organ like (could be a synth - who cares? It's great). The wordless chorus plays out and then evolves into a curious jazz interlude leading the play down but it’s a false ending, as the Hammond sound comes back in a delightful and on point conclusion.

   

The message is simple, the music represents a glorious cultural coming together, whereas the words show the politics of our lives shutting each other out.

Egoli    

Is much more bare-faced S.A. Jive, the wonderful pumping playful dancing bass, the tight rhythmic guitar playing, the rotation propelling the music. But like Paradise, it has a broader footprint than mere SA jive. The choruses are joyous and uplifting. There is the same juxtaposition of music good/lyrical narrative bad. There is a lovely, exposed section where Trevor sings lead and the choir chants with great warmth, whilst the guitar is reminiscent of so much African Music: repetitive and intense but never losing sight of the core rhythmic pulse.

These pieces are joyous, full of a natural, organic, warmth and as far away from the pyrotechnic clever Trevor Rabin of Talk. Indeed, the one quality that characterises all of Rio is that, sonically it is the warmest and most musical of all his offerings.  There is plenty at the bottom of the music and lots of air. 

The sonic conversation. 

I can listen to my Digital download, CD and Blu ray on the same system and I prefer them in that order. The CD does not seem to add anything other than a slight sense of separation. Personally, I prefer the instruments to be close together, out of which emerges choices rather than vaguely disembodied, a bit like Jazz. The music from the Surround Sound echoey and lost. 

The Blu Ray, however, is to these ears, unlistenable. The cymbals sound thin and ugly, there are some bizarre volume drops and the voice seems to be lost, as if it's in another room. But anytime the drums are important its sounds mirky, a kind of unpalatable wash of sound. How strange that the digital down load is the best. 

But let’s not leave the work with that heartfelt and sincere criticism. I really do not expect anything from a musical family that has needed 'A Lis'-ter new blood for maybe forty years. But it’s great to see one of the two late entrant A List-er’s (Trevor Horne being the other) up together with all his musical genius intact and remembering that, if he is going to make a “rock” project it needs to have flair, pace, energy and a ton of excitement. 

And for that, I thank you, Mr Rabin.