On the eve before his 71st birthday, famed Cream bassist, vocalist and songwriter Jack Bruce releases Silver Rails, his first solo album in over a decade. With nothing to lose, his credibility assured and an A-list of collaborators and players ready and willing to participate, Bruce indulges himself in a wide range of dalliances and directions, creating a musical adventure for both the listener and the artist.
Silver Rails was recorded at Abbey Road studios in London and produced by Rob Cass. Bruce teamed up with Pete Brown, Kip Hanrahan and Margrit Seyffer for the lyrics, and brought in Phil Manzanera, Robin Trower, Bernie Marsden, Uli Jon Roth, Malcolm Bruce (Jack’s son) on guitars, John Medeski on Hammond organ, Cindy Blackman Santana on drums and a host of other musicians to fill in the gaps. Bruce himself plays bass, piano, Mellotron and, of course, sings. As the record unfolds, we get a glimpse into Bruce’s vast musical vocabulary — one that still pushes the boundaries of convention, pulling in bits and pieces of jazz, fusion, jam band rock and whatever else suits his imagination and chops.
“Candlelight” is the kind of song Bob Dylan wishes he could sing, that whiny Scottish brogue of Bruce’s still flowing with a unique melodic tone and a sweet Manzanera lead. “Fields Of Forever” is the catchiest track on the album, a straightforward rocker with little more to offer than a nice hook, suspended by Bruce’s piano work, Tony Remy’s calculating chords, the horns and digging chorus of “Looking at the fields of forever…” The dissonance of “Hidden Cities” makes for an intriguing segue, a jazzy psychedelic hue intensified by Blackman Santana’s snare rolls, Roth’s wavering guitar lines, and Bruce’s ominous vocal (backed by four others), conjuring a dense landscape of mischief and mystery.
“Rusty Lady” pairs Trower up with Bruce’s son Malcolm to create a very Cream-like groove that Bruce suavely sings over as if it’s 1966 all over again. Then, once again, the CD changes course and Bruce plucks out a few haunting lines on the piano and bemoans the harrowing trauma of child labor on “Industrial Child.” For “Drone,” he strips down even further to a fuzzy bassline, drums and a laser-like effect for a minimalistic…uh…drone that’s simultaneously maddening and mind-numbing. “No Surrender,” which ends the record, is another one of those numbers that could have probably worked well for Cream, right down to the Pete Brown lyric and Marsden’s lead. But really, you have to remember that any resemblance on Silver Rails to Cream, Tony William’s Lifetime or maybe even something like Bruce’s debut solo album, Songs For A Tailor, is part coincidental and part intentional. As a musician with a rich history and a penchant for sampling the veritable feast of opportunities that lie before him, Jack Bruce is simply doing what comes naturally.
~ Shawn Perry
