Bruce and Hanrahan hit it off on the basis of their working class backgrounds, left-wing politics, and experience with jazz. Hanrahan had formed a band based on Cuban percussion and the Afro-Caribbean rhythm known as "clave'" (clah-VAY), and Bruce jumped in enthusiastically.
The core band is Jack Bruce on vocals, bass, and piano, Steve Swallow on bass, Arto Lindsay on guitar, David Murray on tenor sax, Peter Scherer on synclavier and organ, and percussionists Milton Cardona (congas, bongos), Ignacio Berroa (trap drums), Puntilla Orlando Rios (quinto, congas), and Kip Hanrahan. Several other musicians including a horn section appear on certain tracks.
The lyrics are all included in the eight-page insert, but there is no attribution for the songs. I know Bruce and his lyricist Pete Brown wrote "Smiles and Grins," which was originally recorded on Bruce's "Harmony Row" album. Whether he wrote any of the others, I can't say.
"What Do You Think? That This Mountain Was Once Fire?"
God: "Hey, what do you think? ...that the life of a fly is as important as the success of the revolution?"
"Vertical's Currency" (what the heck does it mean) is a superb album and another impressive chapter in Jack Bruce's musical life.
Following the recording Bruce toured with the band for a time. After falling out over a misunderstanding, Bruce reunited with Hanrahan in 2001. At that point Bruce hired Hanrahan's band, which he renamed the Cuicoland Express, went on tour, and recorded two albums (Shadows In the Air/2001 and More Jack Than God/2003). They are both good, but I find "More Jack Than God" to be even better than the first.
Wonderful stuff -- one of Kip Hanrahan's unique albums recorded for American Clave during the mid 80s, a daring blend of jazz, vocals, and influences from various Latin sources. The players on the set are as diverse as the sounds -- and incluce Jack Bruce, Milton Cardona, Steve Swallow, Arto Lindsay, David Murray, and Hanrahan on percussion -- and although the album should just sound like a mess, it ends up coming across wonderfully, with some of the most daringly intimate vocal tracks recorded in the jazz field during the 80s.
The percussion is here on prominent role, which is good; it's frantic, on-going. Sometimes it's a bit like more jungle-groovy version of Joni Mitchell's The Jungle Line. Most of the jazz here doesn't feel stereotypical or immediately recognizable, only the slower and smoother pieces like India and Heart on My Sleeve are bad that way, quite weak pieces, but perhaps OK if you're fine with any relaxing jazz... I'm not. And not surprisingly, they are the only songs without Kip Hanrahan on percussion. So those are more like outlier interludes. Kip is the driving force on this album, and it's very coherent, comfortable, with a special feel. I think it's important that there are vocals though, and it works really well, it's delicate and intriguing. But the background rhythms keep going and going, their own way, and that's awesome.
A stylistically strange beast that begins to make more sense when you examine that incredible lineup of musicians and realize that on this album Hanrahan is primarily acting as a conductor/producer, assembling different groups at different times to do different things. I would argue that despite Fred Frith and Lisa Herman appearing on only a few tracks, it's the RIO influence that marks that spine of the album, with No Wave and Jazz Fusion sounds built upon that spine.
While a fascinating album to dissect, it's hard not to compare it to the work and genres of the musicians it's brought together. Arto Lindsay's guitar bites, but it's no DNA. Lisa Herman's vocals are well done, but nothing as interesting as Kew.Rhone, etc, etc.
After all that experimentation and fusion, I think the best thing here is Carla Bley, Billy Bang and Chico Freeman doing a straightforward cover of India.
Coup de tête blunts too many of the edges of its influences and contributors to be fully successful but is an interesting document of 1980 era New York and is compelling despite its issues.
Fittingly enough, the first sound heard on Kip Hanrahan's premier release is that of the conga and the first word sung is "sex," two leitmotifs that would appear consistently in his ensuing work. Coup de Tete burst on the scene in the early '80s as an entirely fresh, invigorating amalgam of Cuban percussion (much of it Santeria-based), free jazz, funk, and intimate, confrontational lyrics. Hanrahan had worked at New Music Distribution Service, a project run by Carla Bley and Michael Mantler (both of whom appear on this album), and had established contacts with numerous musicians from varied fields who he threw together in a glorious New York City melting pot. With the percussion and electric bass laying down thick and delicious grooves, the cream of the younger avant saxophonists in New York at the time wail over the top, accompanying some of the most brutally uncomfortable lyrics ever put to wax. The relationships Hanrahan details are turbulent to say the least, often intertwined with economic concerns as well as a general sense of the impossibility of understanding one's mate. After asking him for abuse and being refused, his lover (sung wonderfully by Lisa Herman) taunts, "When you could only sulk/I had more contempt for you than I ever thought I could have." Interspersed among the bitter love harangues and ecstatic percussion-driven numbers are two stunningly lovely pieces, Marguerite Duras' "India Song" and Teo Macero's "Heart on My Sleeve," both aching with romanticism. Coup de Tete is a superb record, an impressive debut, and, arguably, one of the finest moments in Hanrahan's career along with the following release, Desire Develops an Edge. Highly recommended.
