Christopher Rainbow

 

 

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Home of the Brave (1975)

It must have felt like something of a coup for the little-known Scottish singer/songwriter Chris Rainbow to get teamed up with one of America's hottest production teams of the early '70s. Malcolm Cecil and Robert Margouleff had been crucial in transforming the work of Stevie Wonder on albums like Music of My Mind and Talking Book, and were also known for their pioneering Moog albums under the name of Tonto's Expanding Head Band. The pair had evolved a genuinely distinctive production sound based on a subtle and atmospheric blend of synthesizers and live instruments. Though most synth-dominated albums from the mid-'70s long since started to show their age to the point where they've become lionized by the whole retro analog-synth movement, Home of the Brave wears its years lightly. No little credit for this must go to Cecil and Margouleff's subtly layered arrangements, yet far more is due to Rainbow's command of timeless melody and vocal harmonies. By the time Home of the Brave was released, he was already starting to carve a moderately successful niche as a purveyor of undemanding soft rock, yet here he suggested he was capable of so much more. Like many songwriters, Rainbow was clearly in thrall to Pet Sounds-era Brian Wilson, and his album's default setting is a kind of languid and wistful evocation of happy days on sun-kissed beaches drawing to a close. Songs like "Is the Summer Really Over?" and "On My Way" in themselves would have guaranteed Home of the Brave a place in the affections of any listener disappointed by the results of the latest Brian-is-back campaign. But on two tracks, Rainbow proved himself to be more than just another Wilson acolyte. The epic title track boasts not one, but two serenely winding melodies worthy of the man himself and beautifully arranged by Cecil and Margouleff. Yet the standout track is one that whisks the listener far away from the sound of gently crashing surf back to the mean streets of Glasgow. With Rainbow's aching voice accompanied only by piano and the ambient sounds of lashing rain and running feet, "Glasgow Boy" is a heartbreaking lament for the senseless waste of Saturday night street warfare framed by a stunning melody. Though Rainbow went on to hold down a variety of jobs that probably earned him more than all his solo records put together — including vocalist with the Alan Parsons Project and Camel — "Home of the Brave" and "Glasgow Boy" remain as tantalizing reminders of what might have been.

 

Looking Over My Shoulder (1978)

After the commercial failure of the excellent Home of the Brave, Chris Rainbow was brought back down to earth with something of a bump by Polydor. Out went the exotic recording locations and top American sessionmen but, more critically, out too went the innovative production team of Malcolm Cecil and Bob Margouleff, who had been responsible for giving HOTB much of its spectral beauty. Perhaps the setback affected Rainbow's confidence, too, for much of Looking Over My Shoulder finds him settling back into the cosy easy listening rut of his earliest singles. No one could deny that many of the songs here are well crafted and expertly decked out with Rainbow's trademark harmonies. But for the most part, the album leaves behind little more than a vapor trail. The only trace of the ambition that characterized parts of HOTB is the epic Brian Wilson tribute, "Dear Brian," whose six minutes manage to reference many of Wilson's favorite chord changes while surfing through moods of wistful regret and carefree abandon. In technical terms alone, it's quite an achievement — and it certainly eclipsed anything the man himself had come up with in the last five years. But — a little like the music of Jeffrey Foskett 20 years later — the track is so in thrall to Wilson as to preclude any chance of Rainbow imposing his own identity on the material. And you can't help thinking that the input of Cecil and Margouleff might have elevated a track like "Dear Brian" to another plane entirely.