Helen Reddy - Free and Easy

Apparently Helen Reddy is massive in the US. Apparently she’s often referred to as the “Queen of 70’s pop.” Apparently she’s had three number one hits including her signature hit ” I Am Woman” (which although grammatically appalling, I suspect is far more technically accurate than the utterly cringe-worthy second track on Free and Easy, Raised on Rock -  a bold assertion that she soon completely contradicts by torturing the listener for the remainder of the album with what sounds like the sort of thing Andrew Lloyd Webber would leave in the pan after a heavy session on the Guinness). All this is news to me, but this is hardly surprising given that Australian-American singer songwriters from the 70’s are hardly my forte.

I’m not sure what it is that troubles me about Free and Easy so much. It starts well enough with a kind of low slung pop ballad Angie Baby (another number 1 hit), but deteriorates rapidly after the aforementioned Raised on Rock. If I was my parents, which I am evidently not, I would have had that kind of sinking feeling upon buying this album that you get when you buy a record after hearing just one song you like and soon discover that after opening with that track, the rest is actually complete toss… but you sort of have to go around pretending it’s ok for a bit or otherwise you’d look a bit daft for wasting a tenner of your hard earned cash in front of your mates, until one day a couple of years down the line, you finally break down sobbing, beating your fists against the ground declaring that your merciless friends were right all along and that the album you’ve been torturing yourself with for years is in fact complete shit. Yes, that exact feeling.

Or, maybe what troubles me is that the whole “Free and Easy” thing is tinged with a kind of watered down sexiness that I can’t quite reconcile with the girl guide troupe leader staring out at me from the record sleeve. Or the totally benign ballads that sound like Elaine Page committing suicide. Probably the most exciting thing on this album is the key change pan pipes solo on the album title track. Exactly.

Either way, this was another thumbs down this week I’m afraid. What it has inspired though, is a proper daft retro rave beat session from DJ PJ during the outro to this week’s remix, which can only be a good thing.

Check out PJ’s beats:

Marshall Hain - Free Ride

Ever heard of Marshall Hain? Nope, me neither. According to Wikipedia they’re a British pop-rock duo consisting of Kit Hain on vocals and bass, and Julian Marshall on keys. Their biggest hit, Dancing in the City, reached number three in the charts in 1978 and a year later they released their one and only LP Free Ride. Apparently my parents used to know Kit Hain from back in the day. What they haven’t revealed however, is whether she was as reckless a cyclist as the record cover to Free Ride suggests. This is a brilliantly fun and idiotic record sleeve. I strongly suspect that shortly after this picture was taken, Kit Hain was violently decapitated as she careered headlong into an oncoming bus, possibly explaining the absence of a follow up album.

Free Ride doesn’t really know what it wants to be. Marshall Hain clearly like their funk. They also clearly like a bit of jazz. What is slightly more alarming is that as the record progresses it becomes increasingly apparent that Julian Marshall also likes a bit of boogie woogie. The Jools-Holland-a-thon that opens side two can only be described as highly stressful, leaving the listener hoping for a return to one of the more asinine ballads that also plague Free Ride.

That said, there are a couple of reasonably passable funk pop numbers and there’s no denying Hain and Marshall’s musical competence. Opening track Different Point with its Santana-lite solo, and album title track Free Ride both stand out for me. Both are infinitely better than the cringe inducing gran-at-a-wedding sing-along Dancing in the City that’s for sure. I’ve no idea how that reached number three in the charts. People in the 70’s must’ve been on crack.

There’s also an early contender for the worst pun in my parents’ record collection here: “They call me Mrs The Train!” warbles Kit Hain. Do they? What does that even mean?! Ok, “Mrs Train” is just about conceivable in a sort of Fat Controller’s wife kind of a context, but chucking that definite article in there is just downright baffling. Still, it ain’t got nothing on the Killers’ “I got soul, but I’m not a soldier.” Or was it “sole?” Who knows. Fishy.

Despite the above I took a perverse enjoyment in listening to Marhsall Hain’s attempts to sound like Fleetwood Mac’s irritatingly over enthusiastic younger sibling. Hell, they’ve even copied the Mac’s “I-don’t-know-what-to-call-my-band-so-I’m-going-to-name-it-after- the-next-two-band-members-I-see” naming convention.

This is hardly revelatory but I love the sound of a well-kept piece of vinyl, especially at a time when I’m becoming increasingly reliant on scrunched up digitised spotify playlists. Free Ride also ends with a lovely soothing low humming sound – a sort of apology for the Julian Marshall keyboard excesses that have preceded it. Nice.

Check out PJ’s Marshall Hain inspired beats

below…https://soundcloud.com/parentcore/nights