shadowplays.com

Lester Bangs was an American rock critic who wrote in the Gonzo style of journalism that was popular in the late 60’s and 70’s. He has been called the greatest and most influential rock critic of all time. Part of the infamous “Noise Boys” of rock critics that also included Richard Meltzer, James Walcott and Nick Tosches, Lester wrote for Rolling Stone until fired in 1971 for being too “disrespectful to musicians”, and subsequently wrote for Creem, The Village Voice, and NME. Although not a fan of Taste’s first album he was very much “on board” with their next release, ‘On the Boards’. Below is the May 28, 1970 review of ‘On the Boards’ that he wrote for Rolling Stone magazine. Many thanks to David Miller for providing this great album review. A scan of this article as well as other Rory memorabilia can be found on his blog, David’s Rock Scrapbook, including pictures (taken by Dan Cuny) of Rory’s performance at the Cow Palace in San Francisco on October 9, 1973. More photos of that show can be seen on David’s affiliated site, Brit Rock by the Bay.

Taste is from the new wave of British blues bands, breaking through the slavish rote of their predecessors into a new form that can only be called progressive blues. In other words, they use black American musics as the starting point from which to forge their own songforms and embark on subtle improvisational forays.

From the first notes of “What’s Going on,” the tightness and precision of this band’s instrumentalists is evident” the bass always complements the lead perfectly, never resorting to Jack Bruce fidgetings. And the crackling power of the guitar solo is made doubly heady by Rory Gallagher’s unerring sense of restraint.

But Taste is evolving into much more than just another heavy voltmeter trio, as “It’s Happened Before, It’ll Happen Again” makes clear. After two angular, uptempo vocal choruses — like scat singing with words added — Gallagher take off on a long whirlwind of a solo flight, first on guitar and then alto sax, that is jazz and rock and neither precisely. You can hear distant echoes in his guitar solo of Gabor Szabo, Wes Montgomery, and probably the Tony Williams Lifetime’s John McLaughlin, but Gallagher has digested his mentors, be they blues bards, jazzmen or the Rolling Stones. He is his own man all the way, even on sax, where his statements are doubly refreshing by their piercing clear tone and the coherence of the ideas — we have needed a rock saxist with the inspiration and facility to blow something besides garbled “free” shit.

It may seem unfair to concentrate almost exclusively on Gallagher, but the group is really his own vehicle in every way — besides playing lead guitar and sax and harmonica, he also sings lead and wrote all the songs. His voice is crisp and personal and blessedly free of strained mannerisms. Gallagher is no shouter when he doesn’t need to be — he treats his voice just like his other instruments, with and artist’s sense of ease and care for their delicacy.

The compositions are all excellent. Besides the unusual construction of “It’s Happened Before,” “Eat My Words” also stands out as an exercise in dynamics akin to Fleetwood Mac’s “oh Well,” and “If I Don’t Sing I’ll Cry” is stunning with its driving blues progression which suddenly bridges into a lyrical chorus ending in a trilling falsetto note. But the most moving and advanced piece here is “On the Boards.” The muted, melancholy melody is as pregnant with deep restrained sorrow as B.B. King’s “The Thrill is Gone,” but further advanced from the limited blues bag, and the words are a terse epistle of suffering and remorse: “Someone has taken my day and turned it to night/ Who turned out the light?/… I don’t know what it means/But it’s too much to bear.”

The long instrumental trek which follows is even more impressive than the improvisations so clearly thought-out, that it seems a shame to even suggest that Taste be classed in any way with that great puddle of British blues bands. Everybody else is just woodshedding — Taste have arrived.
 
— Lester Bangs, Rolling Stone