Tony Hill - Inexactness
(Rubric)
Loud, dark, dangerous, indulgent, and just barely under control, High Tide's first two albums, Sea Shanties (1969) and High Tide (1970), are among the finest, fieriest slabs of high-octane psychedelic rock you're ever likely to hear. Likewise the first six magnificent 45" sides cut earlier by the Misunderstood. If you've delved further into either band's extended catalog, you may have noticed that this double shot of brilliance was never again matched by either. Not until now, that is. The return to preeminence of Tony Hill, High Tide front-man and
Misunderstood guitarist, more than 30 years after the fact is an event indeed, brought to you by Nick Saloman's peerless Woronzow Records.
How excellent is Inexactness? Well, even without the bravado bow-busting backup of Hawkwind violinist Simon House, or the quickening, sunburst slide-guitar stun runs of the Misunderstood's Glenn Campbell, Hill's solo set exhilarates from start to finish. Everything comes back in a thrilling rush—those unmistakable doomsday chords, the lacerating leads, the roar of Hill's mighty, Jim Morrison-esque voice—and the time-spanning glories of Sea Shanties and "Children of the Sun" are invoked again before your disbelieving ears. Maybe it all sounds so right because High Tide bassist Pete Pavli is back by Hill's side on "I Don't Want to Talk," and hangs around for "Lineage" and "But There Again." Or it could be to violinist Matt Kelly's credit, as it is he who steps ably into House's shoes, keening harmoniously alongside Hill's electrifying, occasionally death-defying runs in the instrumental opener "Right Now Forever." The potent combo of Pavli, Kelly and Hill is certainly in fantastic form during the extended intro to "Lineage," abetted by Bevis Frond drum demon Andy Ward and, if some of those gloriously overarching counterpoint solos are any indication, by Frond Numero Uno, Saloman himself. Muscular yet tenderly melodic, "Lineage" is everything you could want from High Tide alumni at the peak of their power. And to think that, with nowhere to go but far down, Inexactness just gets better! Hill's hypnotic vocals and a startling fusillade of fretboard firepower rocket the garage punk of
"But There Again" to heights of Television transcendence. Pavli sits out the rest of the album, replaced by Bevis bassist Adrian Shaw. Hill shifts gears with the title track, where strings, Saloman's tasteful synths and loping, oddly metered guitar lines converge in what can only be described as second-album Tindersticks gone pleasantly prog. The grinding "Positively Negative" lives up to its contradictory tag, playing the delightful Cream-iness of Hill's croon and smoldering fretwork against Saloman's more salacious, Hendrix-style strutting and squalling, both guitarists slipping in and out of phase with a distinctly Beefhearted boogie-beat. If "By Degrees" is High Tide's eponymous album in miniature, encompassing both the band's unbridled rock & roll drive and its more baroque flourishes, "Of Foundries, Ships & Steeples" revels in the latter. Hill, Kelly and Saloman sprawl and spool with zesty abandon, the florid fruit of their combined excesses entwining while Shaw and Ward indulge in a bit of freely flowing funk. Sounds ghastly on paper, sure, but it's absolutely mesmerizing, fulfilling wildest dreams of a communion between Santana, Dave Swarbrick-era Fairport Convention, and perhaps Pärson Sound offshoot International Harvester.
Trust me on this one—it's heavenly. And, unlike some of the shapeless Acid Jams for which Saloman and Co. are notorious, this one feels all too short even at 14 minutes. After such a phenomenal display, the plodding protest politics of "Six Million Years" seem an odd way to end the album. But it's hard to argue with the track's beautiful coda, where the three extraordinary instrumentalists join forces in a final paean whose luscious strains linger long after the album ends.
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