Who could’ve thought that a group of musicians — once grounded in the earthy roots of American folk and the freewheeling spirit of the rock era — would come together like a storm, crafting a piece of art that would paint the psychedelic era’s eccentric canvas? That’s exactly what Seatrain (1970) accomplished. This album, an eclectic blend of rock, jazz, and blues, was released by the band Seatrain in late 1970. It was recorded in Marin County, California, and produced by none other than George Martin, the legendary producer who worked with The Beatles. While the band members were largely from the U.S., Seatrain had its heart beating at the intersection of different musical genres, defying the boundaries established by the conventional music industry. Now, let's dissect this tour de force and see why it should still be shaking up your playlist decades later.
The album cover himself is a piece of art that could provoke endless debates around any dinner table. What's on it? A solitary windmill against a solid dark backdrop. Liberals might see it as a metaphor for mankind's solitary struggle against… who knows what, while others might simply appreciate it as an artistic statement meant to catch the eye and evoke curiosity. It kicks things off with "I'm Willin,’" a track framing their blend of these varied musical influences. Imagine a collision of fiddles, flutes, and guitars harmonizing in a way that almost tells you to throw aside the pop tracks suffocating today's airwaves.
The band lineup reads like a who's who of great musicianship. With members like Peter Rowan on the vocals and guitar, known for his impeccable knack for connecting with audiences, and Richard Greene on the violin, bringing a unique texture to every track he touches, Seatrain was destined to brew magic. Joshua Rifkin’s piano complements the mix, as does Andy Kulberg’s bass and flute work and Lloyd Baskin's organ-playing. It's like a high-voltage meeting of minds, each contributing their own venerated stroke to this musical tapestry.
"Song of Job," a standout track on the album, digs deep. The song, inspired by the biblical story of Job, flows with intense rhythms and orchestral arrangements. It’s a philosophical probe into existential themes, built with the kind of lyrical genius that's distressingly rare today. Its intelligent, mature resonance teases those in search of something deeper, and, trust us, profundity never sounded so liberating.
Track after track, Seatrain kickstarts not merely a listening experience, but a cerebral one — much like the political movements of the time, although thankfully without the nonsensical idealism. "Out Where the Hills" rewards the cerebrally inclined listener with its haunting storytelling, reminding us that sometimes the most impactful messages are those delivered in the most mysterious ways.
Now, here's the curveball from the album: "Waiting for Elijah" marries haunting vocals with ethereal instrumentals. One could almost feel the chilling breeze of Appalachian ghosts threading through the notes. This is a track with layers that refuse to be unraveled in just one listen. It challenges you, taunts you even, but rewards in ways that are hard to quantify.
Let’s talk about "Flute Thing," one of those tracks that etches itself into the long list of instrumental masterpieces. Do you prefer heart-thumping rock or the soulful, meandering pathways of jazz? Why not both? This piece makes sure you don’t compromise. It keeps the blood of jazz stained all over its rock foundations — subversive and rebellious in its refusal to conform.
What does this peculiar mixture of instrumentation, orchestration, and vocals remind us of? It’s like breaking out from the molds the modern music industry tries so hard to fit every artist into. Seatrain, simply put, is not music for the lukewarm palate. It’s a callout to those who love freedom of expression, each track punctuated by an unwavering defiance of norms.
This album stands as a testament to the complexity of the 1970s musical landscape — a period when artists weren't driven by charts and numbers but by genuine artistry. Its production quality and musical diversity remain unmatched by many in this century. Today, you hear more about algorithms deciding what's on the charts; Seatrain whispers of a time when talent did.
While critics and fans could debate this album's absolute place in the annals of musical history, what remains crystal clear is its influence and its challenge to the monotony that often defines popular music. So, go ahead, pop this forgotten gem into your stereo, and let it overwhelm you. Because amidst the chaos and clatter of the everyday, Seatrain reminds us all of a critical truth: good music never goes out of style.