James Gang: Rides Again

Many years ago, when I was in a garage band with three of my high school friends, guitarist and vocalist (and sometime songwriter) Tim came to the rehearsals to teach us a song he thought he found in a book of sheet music. It was called ‘Funk #49′, and as we were hopelessly masquerading as a funk/blues/rock band, this seemed like a logical type of song for us to learn. So we did, and because we were under the impression that it was a simple exercise instead of an actual song, Tim and I sat down and wrote a set of lyrics while guitarist Matt and bassist Matt worked out some more of the arrangement. The resulting set of lyrics was titled ‘Bus Stop Girl’, and while time has been particularly kind to me and wiped the words from my memory, I can only remember them being embarrassing and puerile. Nevertheless, at our one and only gig at Thunderbird Lanes, we debuted this song, to much confusion and forced smiles from our assembled audience (consisting mostly of friends and a few bemused bowlers). Imagine my surprise when I offhandedly mentioned the new song to my dad, and he looked at me and said, “‘Funk #49′? That’s a James Gang song.” And so, because I was looking to expand my music collection at the time, I went off in search of the album, back in the day when you could actually walk into a record store and peruse the aisles, instead of going to Amazon.com and buying it in a matter of seconds.

James Gang consisted of Joe Walsh, Dale Peters, and Jim Fox, and were a power trio – much like Cream or the Jimi Hendrix Experience – who had a small cult following. Walsh, of course, is best known (for better or worse) for joining the Eagles in the mid 1970s, though I count his ‘Life’s Been Good To Me So Far’ as a respectable enough song, as long as you don’t take it very seriously. My feelings for the Eagles range from ambivalence to indifference, depending on the day, so I was nonplussed to discover that Walsh was in this band; however, once I listened to the one and only album of theirs I ever got (Rides Again), I was impressed, and even had it in my portable CD book that I’d carry around in my car. (Back before iPod connections were common in cars.)

The album kicks off with its best-known track, the aforementioned ‘Funk #49′, and is built on a tenacious and infectious groove that isn’t necessarily funk, but does get your feet tapping. (I’m just now remembering that I was inspired by the multitude of Latin percussion, and came up with my own arrangement – well, mostly just a cowbell part – for my one and only song, ‘Dance’.) The song fades out, with some neat soloing from Peters and Walsh, before fading back in and bleeding effortlessly into ‘Asshtonpark’, a brief instrumental that continues the funk with some interesting tape delay effects on the guitar. The funk continues with ‘Woman’, perhaps the second best-known tune from the album, with Walsh almost delirious with lust for the object of his affection. (We’ve all been there, amirite fellas?!) This being Walsh, though, he injects some humor into the lyrics: “Wanna take you home, give you some money / Every time I try, you think that it’s funny”. Sounding like a cross between Free and James Brown, ‘Woman’ shoehorns a multitude of guitar solos into its bridge, while maintaining its roughshod live feel.

The epic tour de force is the following track, a seven minute track titled ‘The Bomber’, which fuses together three songs: ‘Closet Queen’, an original composition by the band; Ravel’s ‘Boléro’; and Vince Guaraldi’s ‘Cast Your Fate To The Wind’. This is proto heavy rock at its finest, with the Peters/Fox rhythm section laying down a vaguely funky backing, allowing Walsh to tack on layers of fine fretwork, complete with spacey, atmospheric tape effects, and, for a few minutes, Walsh sounds astonishingly like a cross between David Gilmour and Jimi Hendrix. (Incidentally, the ‘Boléro’ segment landed the group in some trouble: Ravel’s estate objected to its inclusion, and the 90-second segment was edited out. It has since been reinstated.) Unlike other prog rock bands, who often took classical compositions and stretched them out in excess of 20 minutes, allowing each band member to doodle on relentlessly and aimlessly (Yes, King Crimson, and the Moody Blues, I’m looking in your directions), ‘The Bomber’ is lean, tight, and compact, and doesn’t feel like it’s been seven minutes once it ends. A rare treat, that’s for sure.

‘Tend My Garden’ heralds a gentler second half of the album, though there’s still a tinge of edgy rock here. Dominated primarily by a quivering Hammond organ and some nice guitar work, the song slows down midway, allowing for a lovely piano break and a soaring guitar solo before winding its way back to the main motif. (The domination of Hammond organ reminds me of a song, but I can’t, for the life of me, figure out which one. However, the 5/4 section was unmistakably used by Boston in their ‘More Than A Feeling’, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.) As with the first two songs, ‘Tend My Garden’ blends into the folksy ‘Garden Gate’, written and sung by Walsh on acoustic guitar. It’s a lovely little tune, lasting 90 seconds, but that downplays its versatility and eclecticism at a time (1970) when country rock was still in its infancy. I’m not saying James Gang are pioneers in that respect, but the diversity of this album is often sadly forgotten in light of its harder rocking songs.

‘There I Go Again’ is another mild acoustic rocker, with Walsh mourning the end of a relationship (“You know I hate to lose her / The good thing that I had / I would rather lose her / Than watch it all go bad”) and balancing that line between heartbreak and acceptance. Some subtle pedal steel guitar is heard in the second verse, adding a lovely country tinge to an already gentle song. ‘Thanks’ is a charmingly serious song about religion and spirituality (“Yes to the man above you / Hope you pass the test / No to the man below you / Leave him with the rest”) without being overly preachy or proselytizing too much. ‘Ashes, The Rain And I’ is a sweeping, grandiose album closer, starting off as a gentle acoustic ballad with a lovely orchestral accompaniment. (On first listen, it’s possible that Steven Tyler had this song on repeat when he wrote ‘Dream On’.) It’s with this song that James Gang shows its full colors: from the unrestrained, gleeful fun of ‘Funk #49′ to this mournful epic, they cover a range of emotions and genres, without being too far out there to make the diversity too alarming. Get it if you heard ‘Funk #49′ and thought it was a pretty nifty song; just make sure to keep the CD continuing, and you’ll be in for a real treat.

Essential listening: Funk #49, Woman, The Bomber, Ashes The Rain And I… but you might as well just get the whole thing.