Deep and wide are the realms of self-produced obscurities; just when it seems every attic, garage and barn has received inspection for test pressings, acetates, and undistributed editions, another doozy turns up. In this context, the self-titled ’77 effort of Michael Angelo isn’t amongst the rarest, as 500 were pressed. But originals can go for four figures, indicating it’s not an ordinary rediscovery. Those lacking four figures worth of spending money should, if not rejoice, than at least smile with satisfaction over Michael Angelo’s legit reissue by Anthology Recordings. A bonus 3-song 7-inch is icing on the cake.
The neighborhood of the unearthed obscurity is populated by more than a few fringe characters, especially on the private press side of the tracks. However, Michael Angelo Nigro comes off as a pretty well-adjusted dude, and if his lyrics can get a tad spacey, that’s indicative of ambition and not an inability to curb excessive errors of taste.
Michael Angelo is a retrieval possessing not only restraint but palpable perceptiveness into how to craft an album, though none of that would really matter much if the guy lacked songwriting talent. It helps greatly that Angelo’s Influences, noticeably derived from the second half of the ‘60s, were as attentive to melodicism as self-indulgence.
Another huge factor is Angelo’s instrumental skill; except for the drumming of Frank Gautieri all the sounds came from his hands and throat. Indeed, Angelo was sharp enough to work as a full-time session musician, and in Kansas City, MO no less (how times have changed), his LP crafted in the off-hours at employer Liberty Recording in 1976.
Related in Anthology’s ample background writings is the youthful impact on Angelo from the Tornadoes’ ’62 hit “Telstar.” This isn’t detectable in the grooves but rather points to strength of production through modest means, a lesson possibly absorbed by osmosis from the golden touch of the maestro of the shoestring Joe Meek.
A phrase utilized in Michael Angelo’s promotion is “out-of-time,” which shouldn’t be misconstrued as “off-his-rocker.” No, it mainly explains that nobody, certainly not on professional level, was making ‘60s-sourced music quite like this in ’76. And yet through facets sometimes subtle and elsewhere bold, the disc isn’t a throwback, and neither does it strongly forecast ‘60s-influenced sounds to come.
It begins with strumming acoustic, able singing and splashes of cymbal offering a tense late-’60 psych-pop atmosphere, though “Flight of Pegasus” promptly glides into a ‘70s soft rock state of mind via soaring canned strings. Just as quickly the mood gives way to a sharply-picked cluster of repeated notes on electric before reverting back to the opening motif.
All of this occurs in a tidy four minutes and without a sense of straining, Angelo’s aims in no way exceeding his ability to realize them. In fact, much of the record presents deft writing and playing in a fairly straightforward fashion, including “Oceans of Fantasy,” chiming guitar bookending Angelo’s appealing, slightly Arthur Lee-like vocals.
Along with a whiff of Forever Changes, there’s some terrific fuzz-psych soloing, but it’s in the bodacious guitar-pop of “The World to Be” that the record scores its first standout. A stone cinch to affectionately goose lovers of the Nazz and Big Star, the basic (but perfectly solid) audio fidelity should also give the squeeze to fans of early Bob Pollard.
I can’t deny that Gautieri teeters on the borderline of overly busy; on the other hand I do enjoy how he isn’t blunted by studio sheen. And it’s not like he’s attempting to hog the spotlight, keeping prudent time across the down-tempo “Lost in the Pain.” Featuring acoustic strum and electric accents, piano, more imitation strings, and Angelo’s up-to-the-task vocalizing, it takes a turn for the sensitive without stumbling.
Anthology additionally mentions the importance of The Beatles on the young Angelo, though in retaining the piano the side-closing “Checkout” actually seems in line with ‘70s McCartney as the swagger in the delivery briefly reminds me of Jobriath, of all people. Plus, the out of nowhere mid-tune musique concrète of artillery matched with backward-tracked guitar (to say nothing of the sound of detonation toward the finale) brought “Sky Pilot” to mind, and that’s always welcome.
Starting side two is the wordy post-post-post-Dylan of “Bon Jour Mr. VIP,” and as it progresses Angelo again navigates in a not-unpleasant soft-rock zone. “Journey (to Find Who We Are)” picks up the pace as it recalls mid-‘60s Los Angeles pop-rock and a hint of country twang. Fittingly, the mid-tempo groove of “Inner Reflections” cozies up beside Love once more; if the thin keyboard ambiance dates this as a mid-‘70s non-pro project, the redirect found in the song’s middle is superb, Angelo’s writing besting that of many pros.
“Field of Lonely Eyes” tunnels deeper into psych territory both musically and lyrically, but it’s slower pace is injected with a bit too much synthetics and ends somewhat abruptly. It leads into Michael Angelo’s lengthiest number, the tougher-toned and crisp psych-rock closer of “Future.” Next to “The World to Be,” it’s the strongest of the ten selections, underscoring Angelo’s good sense in sequencing.
Mixed at Big-K Records, a second Kansas City studio that happened to use Angelo as a sessioner, the LP was released, obviously without any immediate fanfare, on the Big-K subsidiary Guinn Records. Thus, the prior bootleg titling of The Guinn Album, though Anthology’s endeavor is totally above board, mastered from a sealed mint copy in lieu of vanishing master tapes.
Michael Angelo comes with a bonus 7-inch in an edition of 300 and available exclusively through Anthology’s webstore. The a-side “Sorcerer’s Delight” brings the soft-rock nearer to Toytown than did anything on the album and flaunts engaging bass and leftfield synth elements; I can even dig the pop-prog flourish as it finishes.
The slowly unfurling “Nubian Queen” is an attractive proposition for hanging in a hammock and sipping something cold on a humid night, though the exotic visions in the words are more than a little out-of-date. The true bonus here is the never before issued “Her Majesty’s Royal Account,” a slice of piano boogie blending LSD-era Beatles with aspects of glam.
Altogether, the 7-inch isn’t jaw-dropping but it’s far more than a footnote. Those dropping bills for the LP will probably want it, for the 3 tunes nicely reinforce the artist’s talent; it’s tempting to say he was worthy of getting released on a “real” label back then, but upon consideration it’s almost definite those signing him would’ve demanded a whole new recording, one likely straying from Angelo’s strengths.
And that would’ve been a drag. Michael Angelo needs no special pleading; the recently deceased historian and editor of Acid Archives Patrick Lundborg rated it in his private-press Top 10, and while I’m not that high on its charms I can surely comprehend his level of esteem. Records like this one easily vindicate the continued search for musical treasure.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
