Blackmore's Night (pagal G.Starostin)

Blackmore's Night (pagal G.Starostin)

Very_crazy_enough

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: SHADOW OF THE MOON (1997) Ritchie Blackmore. Most people will remember him for early Deep Purple, some will for early Dio-era Rainbow, still others — shudder — for the later «hit era» Rainbow, but you know what? Listening to this album, the first in a new career and a new life, makes me absolutely convinced that it was not until this transformation from a blazing rock god into a humble minstrel that he had really found his true heart's content. And in the overall context of his life and his deeds, this finding makes me genuinely feel good for him. Normally, this «neo-medieval» stylistics, the roots of which probably go all the way back to bands like Amazing Blondel in the early 1970s and maybe even further back to God knows where, is about as cringeworthy as a tacky mansion in «medieval» style, erected somewhere on the property by some tasteless nouveau riche. The melodies are stiff and manneristic, the arrangements tepidly polite, the lyrics overloaded with clichés that betray only a superficial acquaintance with the verbal art of Chaucer's, let alone King Alfred's, times. All of these flaws are vividly present on the first album by Blackmore's Night, and more — obviously produced on a modest budget, the record keeps substituting electronic replacements for genuine instruments. Synthesized trumpets? Works wonders in the authenticity department, you know. But then again, who are we kidding? Shadow Of The Moon has nothing to do with authenticity, and if you box Ritchie into a corner, or maybe even if you don't, he will probably admit that himself. Shadow Of The Moon is simply part of his fantasy, which began with his encounter with Candice Night (Candice Lauren Isralow, to be precise), a young fan born in the year of Fireball, in 1989 — and ended with the formation of this duet, in which Blackmore plays the part of a traveling minstrel (always with his trusty boots on!) and Candice plays the part of his romantic fantasy, whichever it happens to be at the moment (empress, princess, lady in waiting, innocent peasant girl, witchy woman, gypsy, fortune teller, fairy queen — anything, as long as it has nothing to do with the real world). Ever since they seriously hooked up, I think, they were living this fantasy in real life to some extent, so it was only natural that, eventually, something like this would come out. Fans were expectedly devastated: a Blackmore album without a single Blackmore electric solo? In fact, an album where his role was essentially reduced to that of songwriter and basic accompanist? Him, Ritchie Blackmore of the Huge Ego, which we all had to accept and cherish? Unbelievable, and sacrilegious. Was this Candice Night gal his Yoko Ono, putting him under her spell and making a humble slave out of the world's fiercest electric guitar hero?.. Not quite. There are two kinds of people who always punish Shadow Of The Moon with one-star ratings. The first kind simply wants Blackmore to go on being a guitar god — that's the silly kind, because if you don't want to be a guitar god no more, it's useless to force yourself. The second kind just cringes and calls the music tacky — which it certainly is. Except they are forgetting that every band in which Ritchie has done time has always been tacky, right from the earliest days of Deep Purple. Remember their cover of the Beatles' ʽHelp!ʼ on the debut album? Now if that ain't tacky, I don't know what is. Yes, like most of this faux-Renaissance muzak, the songs, taken at face value, are stiff, boring, and corny, and not at all redeemed by the technical aspects of their execution — Blackmore's guitar playing (mostly acoustic, although he does not completely shun the electric sound) is intentionally very modest, whereas Night's vocals are pleasantly passable: she is no new Annie Haslam in terms of range or power, and no new Sandy Denny in terms of expression and spirituality, she just sings in a nice tone. Not particularly irritating ormemorable. Not much to hate, not a lot to love. Fine wardrobe, though. Where this album, and most of its follow-ups, really succeeds is in making you understand just how much the both of them dig doing it. Forget the rock god image — this is what Blackmore has really been waiting for all his life: a fair lady companion to allow him to drown his ego in a world of dark shadows, green meadows, magic spells, crystal balls, greensleeves, and mandolins. Despite the technically unimpressive arrangements, it is clear that they spent a shitload of time working out all the little twists on these songs. ʽMagical Worldʼ, in the middle of the record, is their personal statement of purpose: "...In our hearts / We share the same dream / Feelings so strong / We just must carry on / On to our magical world". Trivial, but true: the dedication with which they approach the construction of this «magical world» is worth admiration. Most of the songs are Blackmore originals (with occasional lyrics from Candice), with two exceptions: ʽOcean Gypsyʼ is a cover of an old Renaissance tune (a predictable choice), while the closing ʽWish You Were Hereʼ is a cover of... no, not Pink Floyd and certainly not Badfinger, but a 1995 single by the Swedish band Rednex, whose members were neither rednecks nor neo-medievalists, but somehow this lonesome ballad got stuck with Blackmore's Night anyway. But on the whole, listing individual highlights is a pointless endeavour — the «originals», employing mostly traditional folk phrasing, smoothly roll on without much stylistic change or musical development. You'd have to be a serious fan of baroque music to spot the differences — and then, if you were a serious fan of baroque music, you'd probably have no reason whatsoever to entertain yourself with an album like this, when you could be listening to Lully or Telemann instead. None other than Jethro Tull's Ian Anderson in person makes a welcome guest appearance on ʽPlay Minstrel Playʼ, cheering up the stage with some rousing flute solos; and none other than Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky in person has a cameo on ʽWriting On The Wallʼ, the corniest number on the entire record — for some reason, not only did they have the strange idea to begin it with a synthesizer quotation from Swan Lake, but they also decided to deck the rest of the ballad with a speedy disco arrangement, about as appropriate in the context of the album as a skyscraper in the middle of a Papuan village. Maybe at the last moment somebody had the bright idea that it would be wrong for the artists to stay completely out of touch with modern reality, so they threw on «one for the nightclubs» at the last moment. Not good for the vibe, and the vibe is pretty much the only reason one could care about the record in the first place. Additionally, the album is just too damn long — over an hour, with most of the songs sharing the same magical-mystical mood; as happy as they must have been making it, it is not certain that the average listener would necessarily subscribe to this «let the magic never stop!» ideology. Trimming the record at the expense of some of its «samey» numbers might have made me pay more attention to its individual components — as it is, I'm forced to treat it as yer average fairywood mushroom muzak. I totally get this escapist vibe, and I like how it is presented with reserve and humility, but recommending this album for somebody who is not fascinated with the spirit of Ritchie Blackmore would be an impossibility. I guess Candice Night could be called «kinda hot» in recompense, but when it comes to witchy women and gypsies, I guess I'm more of a sucker for Stevie Nicks in the end. Candice just looks way too healthy for my tastes.

Blackmore's Night: Fires At Midnight

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: FIRES AT MIDNIGHT (2001) 1) Written In The Stars; 2) The Times They Are A-Changin'; 3) I Still Remember; 4) Home Again; 5) Crowning Of The King; 6) Fayre Thee Well; 7) Fires At Midnight; 8) Hanging Tree; 9) The Storm; 10) Mid-Winter's Night; 11) All Because Of You; 12) Waiting Just For You; 13) Praetorius (Courante); 14) Benzai-Ten; 15) Village On The Sand; 16) Again Someday. This is probably as good as it gets — or, at least, as diagnostic as it gets, so if you want to give Lord R. and Lady C. one lucky chance, Fires At Midnight might be your best bet. Not only is it as stylistically diverse as the duo would ever get, but it also achieves a stable balance between the «folk» and the «rock» visions of Blackmore as applied to his dabblings in past times with good companies. Which, simply speaking, translates to «it's still cheesy, but not as boringly cheesy as it used to be». There's even some bark-and-snap to it now. Most importantly, Blackmore seems to have finally adapted the art of writing faux-medieval ballads to his trademark fiery style: almost as if he were a little tired of the exaggerated courteous gallantry of his previous two efforts, quite a few of these new compositions put their trust (and their thrust) in «power». ʽWritten In The Starsʼ opens the album deceptively, with some nearly accappella singing from Candice — but that is just the intro: at 1:05 into the song, the electric guitar kicks in with some heraldic chords, the martial drums and horns join in the attack, and the whole thing becomes a darkly romantic gallop, highlighted by ecstatic electric leads. No huge surprises on the whole, but this hint at «hidden menace», tragedy, and toughness is definitely something that neither ʽShadow Of The Moonʼ nor ʽUnder A Violet Moonʼ possessed. Where royalty was earlier represented by Britain (Henry VIII), we now turn to Spain: the title track is credited as a reworking of a composition originally by Alfonso X of Castile, although we may safely assume that the guy was not quite as skilled at the electric guitar as Mr. Blackmore, his disciple, who turns most of the song's second part into a polygon for unleashing some long-missed amplified pyrotechnics at the listener. I am also quite unsure if Alfonso el Sabio actually made a provision for shawms in his original composition, but whatever be the case, they fit in well with this rather paganistic pandemonium. As simple and repetitive as the main melody is (which is not very surprising for a 13th century dance melody), they handle the build-up pretty well, and it does inspire Blackmore to go fairly wild on the guitar, though, of course, not full-out wild — even in a moment of ecstasy, the medieval minstrel should never forget that he does not have proper access to the whammy bar, since it has not been invented yet. Other medieval heroes honored on the record include the obscure Dutch legend Tielman Susato, honored with renditions of the lyrical dance ballad ʽI Still Rememberʼ and the ceremonial, horns-driven ʽCrowning Of The Kingʼ (a little too pastoral, atmosphere-wise, but then again, we're talking 16th century here, when «pastoral» and «court» were not always that far removed); Jeremiah Clarke, whose famous ʽPrince Of Denmark's Marchʼ is adapted for a more lyrical purpose as ʽWaiting Just For Youʼ; the already previously honored Michael Praetorius, whose ʽCouranteʼ is played by Ritchie on basic acoustic guitar; and the long-forgotten medieval Jewish klezmer Hrodebert Zimbarman, whose woodwind-heavy gallant dance melody ʽDie Zeiten, Sie Ändern Sichʼ is usually better known to modern audiences through a corrupted neo-folk performance by one of his immigrant descendants; fortunately, we have Lord R. and Lady C. to thank for restoring the courteous authenticity of this fine, fine composition. That said, unless you dig deep into the credits, it is quite impossible to distinguish the «authentic» material from the Blackmore/Night «originals» — the former pieces are always rearranged for the duo's usual style, and the latter are probably only «original» in the sense that they do not directly transpose the chord structures of the old musical pieces they are based upon... then again, considering that Blackmore's collection is said to consist of about 2000 CDs of Renaissance music, I think that the man himself would not be able to tell whether a particular «original» of his has been directly lifted from somebody or influenced. So, for instance, the up-on-your-feet and dance-in-joy ʽHome Againʼ, containing either the catchiest or simply the most repetitive refrain melody on the album, is marked as a «Blackmore/Night» composition, but I couldn't believe for one moment that that melody wasinvented by Ritchie — it just sounds like a melody that must have been in good use in village dance traditions for at least half a millennium or so. Anyway, this is not the point. The point is that, despite some inevitable filler (again, it runs over an hour, when some of the more same-sounding tracks could have been trimmed),Fires At Midnight crackle with more enthusiasm than the previous two records, and some of that enthusiasm even rubs off on Lady C. — she sounds positively glowing on the weird Anglo-Japanese hybrid ʽBenzai-Tenʼ, an ode to a Buddhist goddess sung with Sherwood Forest harmonies (I count this as Blackmore's personal revenge on the world of J-Pop). While it would be too much to talk of stylistic revolutions or uncovered musico-semantic depths, Fires At Midnight finally fulfills the original promise, and honestly, professionally, and creatively delivers «Ersatz Entertainment», an embarrassingly guilty pleasure if there ever was one. Thumbs up and an overall recommendation — but do promise to at least check out Gryphon as a proper antidote for the cheap thrills offered by our little travelin' minstrel show.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: UNDER A VIOLET MOON (1999) 1) Under A Violet Moon; 2) Castles And Dreams; 3) Past Time With Good Company; 4) Morning Star; 5) Avalon; 6) Possum Goes To Prague; 7) Wind In The Willows; 8) Gone With The Wind; 9) Beyond The Sunset; 10) March The Heroes Home; 11) Spanish Nights (I Remember It Well); 12) Catherine Howard's Fate; 13) Fool's Gold; 14) Durch Den Wald Zum Bach Haus; 15) Now And Then; 16) Self Portrait. For some reason, Ritchie likes to make these records rather long — around an hour in duration, sometimes more, taking full advantage of the CD format at a time when other performers were already getting past that stage, and slowly realizing that you don't have to stretch your record out to 70 minutes just because you can fit that much length on your current medium of choice. Because of that, all of these Blackmore's Night recordings necessarily have monotonous streaks to them even if it would be wrong to say that Blackmore always purposefully sounds the same. On the contrary, if you put it all together, an album like Under A Violet Moon (several points off, though, for two LPs in a row with the word «moon» in the title) features plenty of diversity. There's some medieval English music, some medieval German music, some medieval Spanish music, an acoustic reinvention of an old Rainbow song, and even a bit of Russian folk music, which, upon closer inspection, turns out to be pseudo-folk music (ʽGone With The Windʼ incorporates the melody of Polyushko-polye, Lev Knipper's most famous contribution to his country, written in 1934), but who's supposed to know? In some ways, this is a serious improvement: the production, featuring many more «authentic» instruments than before (with twice as many musicians credited in the liner notes), is fairly well cleaned from that feeling of «cheapness» — and there are no downright embarrassments like the disco pandering of ʽWriting On The Wallʼ. That's on the traditional-conservative side, but on the «fusion» side, Blackmore's fans will also like the fact that he is playing more electric guitar, including a trademark flashy solo during the coda of ʽGone With The Windʼ (very clean, though: no distortion or whammy bar hooliganry) — and that Rainbow cover, too, is a nice enough gesture, showing that Ritchie has not completely disavowed his past, but is rather willing to rethink it. After all, some of those songs did have good melodies, and ʽSelf Portraitʼ works fine in an acoustic setting. Unfortunately, nothing will help Candice Night to become a more interesting singer than her inborn gift allows her to, and no matter how they try, all of these songs are, at best, «pretty» rather than «beautiful». When they come up with catchy vocal hooks, as they do on the title track, they are worth relistening — but even then, the magic that they sincerely try to work on that song is rather trite. Pretty girl singing, «mystical» echoey male harmonies flanking, gradual quickening of the tempo to turn the whole thing into a magical dance ritual, we've pretty much sat through all that in high school already: can you show us something we don't know? Okay, even if you can, you just don't want to. It's your fantasy, and you don't care just how original or individualistic it is. Fair enough. "Past time with good company / I love, and shall until I die" — what serious objection could there be against ol' King Henry VIII and his still-actual credo? Seriously, none at all, and there is not a single track on this album that would not be at least tepidly likable. Some have said that the album is more «poppy» where its predecessor was more «folky», but this is a matter of personal impression, I guess, especially if by «poppy» one means «catchier and/or happier tunes», which are more or less equally interspersed here with darker stuff — and it is interesting that the bleak ʽSelf Portraitʼ, with its "going down, down, down, down, down" chorus was chosen as the coda, leading the album from the collective ritualistic happiness of the opening to the personal depressed gloom of the closing. Other than that, I guess ʽGone With The Windʼ with its Russian folk backing harmonies is the most «outstanding» number here, but there is something hokey about crossing fake Russian mouzhiks with passionate Blackmore electric soloing, so there is hardly anything cathartic about the song. I'd give the album a thumbs up and recommend it to Blackmore's fans as a suitable introduction into his world, populated with idealistic projections of King Henry VIIIth, Michael Praetorius, and J. S. Bach, as they all join hands and dance around the fire under a violet moon shining over a Spanish night somewhere in Avalon. But remember that, essentially, this is just a musical form of cosplay, so, instead of expecting Fairport Convention quality, just bring along your Robin Hood garments and a longbow, and on that level, it will be fairly easy to connect with the old grey minstrel and his golden-locked protegée.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: PAST TIMES WITH GOOD COMPANY (2001) 1) Shadow Of The Moon; 2) Play Minstrel Play; 3) Minstrel Hall; 4) Past Times With Good Company; 5) Fires At Midnight; 6) Under A Violet Moon; 7) Soldier Of Fortune; 8) 16th Century Greensleeves; 9) Beyond The Sunset; 10) Morning Star; 11) Home Again; 12) Renaissance Faire; 13) I Still Remember; 14) Durch Den Wald Zum Bachhaus; 15) Writing On The Wall. I do not have much to say about this live album, recorded at a May 2002 show in Groningen, except this: the only real reason for Blackmore's Night to exist is in its live incarnation. It's not as if their live performances were much less stiff than studio ones — it is simply that this particular type of music, all these medieval dances and feel-good ballads, are «party music» by definition. This shouldn't even be played in clubs or concert halls: this should be played in pubs, next to those long wooden tables, creaking and groaning from the weight of roast pigs, stuffed rabbits, fresh fruit, wine bottles, and whatever else there can be found on your average Brueghel painting. And nobody should be listening, of course, leaving it to the minstrel to command attention by singing it ever so loud, proud, and with boundless energy... Somehow this only struck me when listening to these live renditions of songs from the duo's first three albums — performed quite faithfully to the originals, but in an even more «pseudo-authentic» setting, as Blackmore very rarely uses the electric guitar (even the outro solo on ʽFires At Midnightʼ is replaced with acoustic passages), and the listeners' attention is frequently focused on violin improvisations from one of the band's members. There is an implicit (sometimes explicit) call for everyone to join in — the clapping and stomping starts with the very first performance and is then renewed on every second or third song. This is not «Folk Music» as a carrier of the Sacred Heart, or of Sanctified Traditional Wisdom, or even of Pure Beauty, as folk revivalists sometimes envision it. This is simple, robust, healthy entertainment to help that mug of ale go down easier and that leg of lamb digest with extra juice. All the more respect to the band for really putting some work in this, especially Candice: she may not be a great singer, and her stage image may be too forcedly cartoonish, but what she is capable of doing, she is totally giving out 100% — no bum notes, no trying to sing outside of her range, and a very hearteningly welcome, unpretentious attitude that should disarm any criticism. As a side bonus, Ritchie re-arranges two golden oldies for her, the Deep Purple ballad ʽSoldier Of Fortuneʼ (where she is very welcome in the place of David Coverdale) and the Rainbow rocker ʽ16th Century Greensleevesʼ (where nobody can replace Ronnie James Dio, but she does not even try to compete with him on the song's ferocious "we will dance around the FIRE!" coda — although it is fun to see her add a little bit of snarl every now and then, so contrary to her regular image). Additionally, on ʽGreensleevesʼ Ritchie even agrees to brandish the old axe: the main melody has been funkified, and its original riff deleted (quoted just once for the song's coda, to be precise), but at least he can still deliver these maniacal leads like few others can. No wonder, then, that it all culminates in ʽHome Againʼ, performed here with a far greater sense of purpose than in the studio version — even if you do not like this stylistics in general, it is hard not to get caught up in the overall merriment, so contagious is the laughter in Candice's voice. Yes, there is also a small share of «intimate» performances (ʽI Still Rememberʼ), but usually they function as «breathers» (along with several instrumentals showcasing The Master), allowing the audience to get some rest before getting them back up on their feet again. And then the show is over with a rip-roaring version of ʽWriting On The Wallʼ, stripped of its rather unsettlingly modernistic production, although the disco bassline is still naggingly hanging out there. Bottomline: if you have no interest in a detailed assessment of the ups and downs of the first stage of Blackmore's Night, Past Times With Good Company is your best bet. The setlist contains almost all the relevant highlights, performed at least as well as in the studio and sometimes better. The band and the audience connect totally in their little medieval fantasy game. The sound quality is perfect. And if you enjoy it with a roast leg of wild boar and a keg of mead on a pleasant European evening, the experience is so complete, you'll never want to get back to the 21st century again. Thumbs up.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: GHOST OF A ROSE (2003) These are the wond'rous and enchanting surprises that await ye on the fourth studio album by Ritchard, Lord of Blackmore, and his Lady Candice of Hauppauge. Number one: two of the tracks are credited solely to Lady Candice, which is a first in Blackmore's Night history, and either reveals a drastic increase in self-confidence on the part of the lady, or a drastic increase in self-sacrifice on the part of the lord. Not that it makes any big difference, because she used to write the lyrics anyway, and the melodies of both ʽThree Black Crowesʼ and ʽIvory Towerʼ are completely in the traditional ballpark — no serious compositional input here to speak of. Number two: the album is being «modernized» by featuring cover versions that are, this time, credited not to old-time kings and baroque composers, but to Joan Baez (ʽDiamonds And Rustʼ) and Ian Anderson (ʽRainbow Bluesʼ). The former is a misstep, because it would take a bit more than Candice Night to outsing Joan Baez — and the original was so personal anyways that if we have to hear a cover version, it should rather be one of those wild wild stylistic reinventions, like the Judas Priest rendition. The latter is okay: ʽRainbow Bluesʼ was a minor folk-pop ditty for Jethro Tull in the Warchild era, and this straightforward interpretation with wailing electric leads might even trump the original in terms of energy. Number three: ʽAll For Oneʼ is a tightened-up, watered-down English-language rendition of the traditional Breton drinking song ʽSon Ar Chistrʼ, which you can easily hear in a more authentic form, for instance, on the debut album of Alan Stivell (Reflêts). The shawms and electric solos help clear up some of the repetitiveness, and the tightened, «normalized» rhythmics helps make the song more catchy, although, of course, purists will want to drown the performers in their own vomit — but then again, what true purist would last long enough to still want to listen to Blackmore's Night as late as 2003? Number four: ʽWhere Are We Going From Hereʼ is a lonely, stately, plaintive ballad on which Lady Night asks the title question as if she wanted you to provide her with the answer. Funny thing: here we thought that the two protagonists had found their coveted happiness, by being financially and spiritually free to dress up as Robin Hood and Lady Marian and revel in their idealized reality, yet here they are complaining that "some things don't go as they're planned" and that "silence answers our cries". Unless this merely reflects a case of Blackmore's personal cobbler having messed up with the lord's favorite pair of boots, you could almost swear they were trying to make a serious social statement here. Number five: the longest, grandest, and most pompous song here is ʽWay To Mandalayʼ, which was maybe inspired by Candice reading herself some Rudyard Kipling (I seriously doubt the option of Blackmore's Night ever touring in Burma), although these lyrics sure ain't no Kipling, and this melody sure don't seem particularly influenced by traditional Burmese music. Like everything else here, it is a very straightforward piece, and goes down best as inoffensive, quickly forgettable background music. This just about concludes the list of possible things to say about Ghost Of A Rose. As for a general assessment, all I can say is that it is a very smooth and formulaic product — taking very few chances even compared with the previous albums. Each song is pinned to exactly one, sometimes two musical ideas; guitar solos are used sparingly, and repetition is no more simply the word of the day, but it is now quite aggressively the word of the day. If Ritchie had himself a time machine and could transport back to the 16th century with all of his band and all of his amplifiers, he'd be a smash success in the little villages and the working suburbs with this stuff. As it is, «demanding» listeners will skip this «cheapness» in favor of sterner and more challenging folk exercises, and «simple» listeners won't give it a chance because it has no technobeats. (For some strange reason, the only place where the record charted higher than Fires At Midnight was Switzerland — even though, as far as I remember, there was no yodeling anywhere in sight. Perhaps it was just an accidental matter of a really hot night in Zurich or something.)

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: THE VILLAGE LANTERNE (2006) It is reasonable to accelerate a bit with these reviews, since Ritchie and Candice are so admirably steady in their approach that stylistic divergences between Ghost Of A Rose andThe Village Lanterne (yes, with a final orthographic -e all right, although it may be worth noting that, in contrast, the presence/absence of the article the is oddly fluctuating between various releases) are kept to a barely distinguishable minimum. Perhaps the most curious addition to the lineup here is Anton Fig on percussion, the drummer from David Letterman's house band. This really gives the drums a more fluent, African style (lots of bongos, among other things), which only goes to show how much Ritchie really cares about «authenticity», but it is useful to be reminded every once in a while that this whole project is a multi-colored «fantasy», not some scientific recreation of stark medieval realities. Betcha didn't know Ritchie's boots are really made in China, did you? Cover material this time around includes Ralph McTell's ʽStreets Of Londonʼ (a little oversaturated with woodwinds, but we will assume they are just trying to make it more baroque: Candice does a good job conveying the friendly melancholy of the original), and Joan Osborne's ʽSt. Teresaʼ, here transformed into an electric rocker with a much faster tempo, and adorned with one of the album's most blazing (though fairly unexceptional for Blackmore) solos. The most controversial cover, of course, will be Deep Purple's own ʽChild In Timeʼ — not only does Ritchie dare to integrate it into one whole with his own merry instrumental dance number (ʽMond Tanzʼ), but he desecrates the holy of holies by actually letting Candice assume the duties of Ian Gillan, which she is unable to do due to the natural weakness of her voice, so, wisely, she does not even try to «scream» the scream-chorus, but instead, just lets all the aah-aahs and ooh-oohs flow calmly and naturally. Even so, there is nothing particularly interesting or newly inspiring about this rearrangement — and legions of outraged fans, even now as you are reading this, are pouring out their vitriol at its live performances on Youtube, joining the ranks of the freshly formed «Protect The Ian Gillan Legacy From Green-Clothed Ladies With Ample Bosoms» society. Oh yes, there is also a cover of Rainbow's ʽStreet Of Dreamsʼ here — actually, two covers: one of the bonus tracks is an alternate version with Joe Lynn Turner himself contributing guest (host?) vocals — and this one might even be an improvement on the original, stripping it from the excesses of Eighties' production. Besides, while I'd never take Candice over classic-era Gillan, taking Candice over the cheap bathos of Joe Lynn Turner is a far more seductive proposition. In fact, re-recording the entire post-Dio Rainbow catalog with Blackmore's Night would, on the whole, be much more useful than doing the same with the old Deep Purple catalog. As for the originals, there are a few catchy folk-rock creations here like the galloping ʽI Guess It Doesn't Matter Anymoreʼ and ʽJust Call My Nameʼ; a couple nicely harmonized ballads like the opening ʽ25 Yearsʼ and ʽFaerie Queenʼ, the latter with a special dance coda; a stupid-sounding drinking song (ʽOlde Mill Innʼ — where ʽAll For Oneʼ was about drinking, fighting, and dying, this one is just about drinking, drinking, and drinking some more); and some more of those pretty and thoroughly interchangeable acoustic Blackmore instrumentals. For those who have been waiting, the goods have been honestly delivered as expected. For those who have not, no reason to begin now, unless you have a fever, and the only prescription is more shawm.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: WINTER CAROLS (2006) A Christmas album from Blackmore's Night, come to think of it, was inevitably happening, so the only relevant question in expecting its imminent forthcoming would be: «Will they or will they not be featuring a new version of ʽHighway Starʼ, with Candice Night singing, ʽNobody's gonna take my sleigh, I'm gonna race it to the North Poleʼ?» Apparently not, and this here is a rather loyal, no-shock-value-whatsoever, and courteously brief collection of hymns, carols, covers, and just a couple original numbers, in keeping with the 21st century understanding of the «Christmas album» (adding one's own individual twists rather than just keep recording new versions of ʽRudolphʼ and ʽWe Three Kingsʼ 'til eternity). So it pretty much sounds like you'd expect it to sound — Ritchie's medievalistic guitar, Candice's friendly, unexceptional vocals, and lots of baroque overdubs. You do get to hear the lady sing in Hebrew, with the band paying tolerant tribute to Hanukkah (ʽMa-O-Tzurʼ — sic, instead of the required ʽMaʽoz-Tzurʼ, but Lord Blackmore ain't the one to be stopped by trifling orthography problems), but other than the lady's struggle with pronunciation, arrangement-wise, this is not one iota different from the rest (well, actually, the old hymn itself was written in the German rather than Near Eastern tradition, so that is hardly surprising). You also get to hear Sydney Carter's ʽLord Of The Danceʼ, which I, shamefully enough, only originally knew from the cuddly Donovan cover — even though Donovan actually transformed the song from its hymnal incarnation into an endearing kiddie tune, whereas Blackmore and Night stick to the solemn choral interpretation. To fill up empty space, they also include ʽWish You Were Hereʼ from Shadow Of The Moon (not a «re-recording», as some sources incorrectly state, but the exact same version), and repeat each chorus on each song a couple dozen extra times — ʽLord Of The Danceʼ, ʽChristmas Eveʼ and others are all plagued by repetitiveness, and the short closing number ʽWe Wish You A Merry Christmasʼ is nothing but exactly that, really. And if you ever tried to insinuate that the old standard ʽDing Dong Merrily On Highʼ is really a song about sex (ding dong), drugs (on high), and rock'n'roll (merrily), well, there's nothing to confirm this in the actual execution. By all means, the record is eminently skippable, but it does fill its own niche, because whoever actually bought the whole thing and, in his or her mind, had already been dwelling in Sherwood Forest and/or Nottingham Castle with Kevin Costner and/or Alan Rickman for almost a decade, now finally gets to spend Christmas in the perfect way possible — playingWinter Carols from dawn till dusk until the herald angels stop singing. For everybody else, the record will be pointless, but Blackmore's Night is not an ensemble that panders to thehoi polloi: in terms of primal enjoyment and accessibility, its intended audience is only the entire Christian (and, this time around, Jewish) world, former Christians who celebrate Christmas without believing in Christ included — just a few billion people or so, most of whom ended up not buying this record by sheer accident of providence, or so we will have to assume.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: SECRET VOYAGE (2008) The only principal difference here stands out in the credits: where in the past we had at least half or more of the songs starkly credited to «Blackmore, Night», here the same convention is observed only on a small handful of tracks. The rest are either listed as straightahead covers, or preceded with a «traditional» disclaimer, as if, after all these years, conscience had finally caught up with Ritchie and he decided to openly admit that he didnot, in fact, write all these melodies. Most people knew that already, of course — that he is much more of an arranger and «adapter» than an independent composer in his own rights — but it is nice to see him coming out with this newfound humility as the years go by. Now how about going all the way and including Vince Wallace in the author list for ʽChild In Timeʼ?.. Alas, humility and entertainment do not always go hand in hand, and at this juncture, Blackmore's Night seems to be running out of the last puffs of steam. The best song on the album, and the only one fit for repeated listening, as far as I am concerned, is ʽLocked Within The Crystal Ballʼ, a modernized take on the old medieval song ʽStella Splendensʼ from the 14th century «Libre Vermelle de Montserrat», one of the earliest surviving manuscripts of folk-styled hymns. Yes, people could really write awesome songs back then, and Ritchie and Candice are quite inspired by the experience of re-inventing this golden oldie for modern times — giving it a stern galloping tempo and extra vocal hooks: Candice's "...locked within the crystal ball" is a fine case of matching the «doom» of the lyrics with the «doom» of the vocal melody (although the «doom» is anything but tragic — serious, inescapable, but not catastrophic), and Ritchie's extended guitar duet with Candice has an honestly hypnotic quality to it. I only wish they'd left the song keyboard-free, because all this synthesizer crap only enhances the cheese effect — why not a good old Hammond organ instead, at the very least? Nothing else on the record even comes close in terms of power. The straightforward covers are rotten — the old Rainbow ballad ʽRainbow Eyesʼ is grossly overproduced, and hardly works at all, devoid of the intimate setting of the original; and they do yet another gallop-tempo rendition, this time of ʽCan't Help Falling In Loveʼ — inventive, for sure, but there is a goddamn reason why this song used to be slow: the rushed tempo and bombastic onslaught of the melody make it look like a case of «love on saddleback». What's up with all the hurry? Courting is supposed to be a delicate process, and here all that's missing is the crack of the whip. Except for another fast-paced Russian folk dance (ʽToast To Tomorrowʼ) that really does not fit in with Candice's vocal style, the rest of the songs just sort of diffuse in one another — ballad upon ballad, atmosphere over hooks without any unpredictable twists. This is a background against which even a corny mutilation of ʽCan't Help Falling In Loveʼ will begin to look attractive, and a clear sign that the dynamic duo finally ran out of dynamics. Only the staunchest fans, seduced to the death by Candice's faux-medieval sexiness and/or willing to waste a lifetime dissecting every Blackmore lick ever played, will embrace Secret Voyage as thoroughly as the duo's first three or four albums — the rest really need not bother beyond a brief acquaintance with ʽCrystal Ballʼ. There is almost nothing here but self-repetition and atmospherics, and I do not understand why in the world I would need to listen to Ritchie repeating himself, or to praise a record for the kind of atmosphere that I «tolerate» rather than «enjoy». Sure, they may have produced enough tracks to supply the complete alternative soundtrack to Game Of Thrones, but in the end, quantity decisively won over quality, so a thumbs down it is.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: AUTUMN SKY (2010) 1) Highland; 2) Vagabond; 3) Journeyman; 4) Believe In Me; 5) Sake Of The Song; 6) Song And Dance; 7) Celluloid Heroes; 8) Keeper Of The Flame; 9) Night At Eggersberg; 10) Strawberry Girl; 11) All The Fun Of The Fayre; 12) Darkness; 13) Dance Of The Darkness; 14) Health To The Company; 15) Barbara Allen. It looks as if Blackmore's Night are running out of inspiration for their album titles even faster than they are running out of songwriting ideas. Autumn Sky? What next, Winter Snow?Summer Rain? Springtime For Hitler? Hmm, come to think of it, it might only be a matter of years before we hear a tenderheart Candice Night cover of ʽTomorrow Belongs To Meʼ — isn't that just the sort material that'd seem tailor-made for the lyrical duo? Okay, that first paragraph was a bit nonsensical and maybe even in bad taste, but it is only because I keep on running out of meaningful things to say about these records. AndAutumn Sky is the very first LP by Blackmore's Night that does not feature even onedistinguishable highlight. Of the endlessly interchangeable series of medievalesque ballads and baroque instrumentals, only ʽJourneymanʼ stands out, but in a bad way: it is a cover of a song by a Swedish folk-pop band, Nordman, borrowing their campy trick of merging a village dance melody with an electronic beat to a thoroughly embarrassing effect, almost as cringeworthy as ʽWriting On The Wallʼ on the first album. Next time we gather round the campfire, ladies and gentlemen, don't forget to bring along your trusty sampler — we don't want to give out the impression that we're still living in the Dark Ages, do we? Just imagine if Robin Hood's merry band had access to electronic drums... There is yet another cover of another Swedish folk-pop band here — ʽHighlandʼ by One More Time, not as distinctively slap-in-your-face and somehow managing to evoke a bit of ABBA and a bit of stern Viking metal at the same time (the former mainly through Candice's vocal stylizations, and the latter through its anthemic, solemn pacing), but still fairly flat and dull, never quite fulfilling the promise of taking you up into those highlands. I suppose we should be grateful to Ritchie for digging out these obscure bands for us to deepen our knowledge, but the songs do not truly make me want to rush out and immerse myself in the contemporary Swedish folk-pop scene, or in any contemporary folk-pop scene, for that matter. Even more disturbing, though, is the presence of a bunch of ballads like ʽBelieve In Meʼ, apparently self-written and rather modestly arranged — but their melodic foundation is that of a generic power ballad, meaning that the songs could have just as well been written by Diane Warren, and I could just see them delivered wild-and-loud on stage by a leotard-clad Cher, with smoke, fireworks, and ecstatic audience members setting each other on fire with their lighters and putting the fires out with rivers of tears. A power ballad like that is usually nauseating; but take the power out of the power ballad and what you're left with is just Dullsville. Likewise, there is no doubt in my mind that Ritchie and Candice love Ray Davies' ʽCelluloid Heroesʼ — but goshdarnit, the song was never anything special as a piece of musical composition: what made it unforgettable was Ray's delivery, that hard-to-catch naïve tenderness in his voice as he managed to profoundly convey «a kid's affection» for each of the listed Hollywood heroes. Candice is friendly, too, but she just sings the words like a standard pro, and there is no special charisma here, none of that «little-man-comments-on-shadows-of-heroes» idea that made the song into one of the last Kinks classics. Returning to the opening paragraph, I will let you in on a thoroughly unkept secret: they actually named the album after their daughter, Autumn Esmerelda Blackmore, born that same year and receiving her first musical gift from her happy parents three months later. That might actually explain things a bit — it is perfectly understandable that making good music was not the Blackmore's first priority in 2010 — but it does not explain why they did not slap on an honest disclaimer sticker, saying «for our adorable little offspring» and saving the common folks from yet another inevitable disappointment. Thumbs down.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: A KNIGHT IN YORK (2012) Another live album, and about as exciting as the pun they chose for the title (not very funny even if we forget that Ritchie is, stereotypically, a «traveling minstrel» rather than a «knight»). The difference this time is that, for some reason, Ritchie and Candice seem to believe that their new stuff is of just as high a quality and in just as much demand as the old stuff. The second belief may be indirectly supported by the warm welcome that they receive from their York audience (the show was recorded in 2011 at the Opera House there), but the first belief had always been questionable, and these live renditions of selections fromSecret Voyage and Autumn Sky do not really make a serious effort to confirm it. On the whole, there are just four things I'd like to say about the album, and then we'll make no effort to forget it. First, there is such a thing as «too much friendliness», and the sheer amount of honey and sugar dripping off the lady's tongue and diffusing out of all the rest of her pores as she cuddles and pampers the audience quickly becomes unbearable. Perhaps they intentionally set it up in sharp contrast with Ritchie's classic image of a brutal, antisocial beast, but in that case, it would have been more fun if he periodically whacked some poor slob in the front row over the head with his mandolin, or at least put that pair of boots to good use. As it is, all we get is one end of the story, and occasionally it begins to sound as if this were your loving, caring, understanding mother talking to you from the stage rather than a performing maiden. (To be fair, Candice was a mother, and talking about her little daughter makes up for a large portion of the banter, but I'd rather prefer to congratulate her on the occasion in a separate story). Second, ʽLocked Within The Crystal Ballʼ remains a great song, and so does ʽFires At Midnightʼ, the only nod to their more-than-recent past on the album that glaringly dwarves all of its surroundings. I understand that they did not want to duplicate and triplicate their live catalog, but still, two or three more classic oldies like ʽHome Againʼ couldn't hurt. Third, ʽToast To Tomorrowʼ, the Russian dance tune from Secret Voyage, is unpredictably merged with a section off Lady GaGa's ʽBad Romanceʼ, as Candice announces that they have a «special guest from another universe» with them tonight. No, Lady GaGa does notmake an actual appearance (not her caliber, apparently), and the joke seems like a silly attempt to either cash in on a modern trend or to send up a modern trend (not funny, considering how much Blackmore's Night themselves are in need of being sent up), but it does remind you that at the heart of ʽBad Romanceʼ lies a rather generic gypsy dance melody, and that, in a way, everything is connected, and nothing is really new under the sun, and from that point of view, it even makes sense to listen to a Blackmore's Night album every once in a while. Fourth, the show is concluded with a cover of the Bee Gees' ʽFirst Of Mayʼ that, if this is at all possible, is made to sound even slower, sweeter, sappier, and more sacramental than the original (and the original was one of the sappiest Bee Gees songs from their early classic period). I have no witty comment on this point — think of one yourself — but it does make me wonder if this is not some sort of veiled pass at Barry Gibb. Everything right in the family, Candice? No marital problems? Please to remember that Barry is not available at the moment, since Linda Gibb seems to be doing all right... ...anyway, A Knight In York is a good proposition for anybody who sees no distinction whatsoever between any random studio record by Blackmore's Night (and I can see where that could be possible), but it is so far removed from my ideal vision of a live album that I have to express it formally: thumbs down, that is.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT: DANCER AND THE MOON (2013) The truth is slowly oozing out: Blackmore's Night are going to keep on releasing albums until they have rearranged and re-recorded every single Rainbow song. And since they only do one old Rainbow song per album, on the average, their program seems to be fully set up until 2050, by which time Ritchie will be one hundred and five years old and little children will be calling him Gandalf. Candice Night, of course, will stay young and pretty forever, and be revered as yer average local elf-maiden: beautiful, stately, and boring. In the meantime, Dancer And The Moon is fifty-three more minutes of treated medievalistic schmaltz, completely obedient to the formula. Just check the song titles — all the keywords are in place: "dance", "moon", "sea", "minstrel", "lady", and even "troika", continuing Ritchie's and Candice's love with a pedestrian-legendary vision of Russia, as thoroughly fake and corny if you even begin to mistake it for «the real thing» as everything else about this duo. "Where the snow lies so deep you can't even see the sun, run, my troika, run". Yeah right. When they incorporated elements of "Polyushko-pole" in their compositions, it was at least imaginative — this approach, however, warrants a giggle at best. Victims of plunder now include Randy Newman (ʽI Think It's Going To Rain Todayʼ, replete with plastic synth riffage) and Uriah Heep (ʽLady In Blackʼ) — my attitude towards those guys is well known, so I don't mind them using material that was quite corny in the first place, but still, «tell me your choice in covers and I'll tell who you are». There is also a final moody «Euro-blues» instrumental called ʽCarry On... Jonʼ, whose title looks suspiciously similar to Bob Dylan's ʽRoll On Johnʼ from the previous year's Tempest — although this particular instrumental, melody-wise, sounds not so much as a potential tribute to John Lennon as, rather, like a potential tribute to the much more recently departed Gary Moore. And it probably goes to show just how stale Ritchie has become in his choice of chords that I find myself far more interested in the brief grumbly organ solo than in Blackmore's guitar work. Ultimately, the focus here is on the title track — another anthemic gypsy-dance number in the vein of ʽHome Againʼ, modestly catchy, but very clichéd with its hey-hey-heys and perusal of the same light-up-your-senses cuddle that has long since lost all taste — and on ʽSomewhere Over The Seaʼ, taken first as a slow, gallantly waltzing ballad and then immediately redone as an electronic dance number (ʽThe Moon Is Shiningʼ), so as to please grandfathers and grandchildren alike: another cheap, tasteless move on the part of a duo that seems to be losing the last shreds of decency and credibility. Perhaps these paragraphs have given you the impression that Dancer And The Moon is a total embarrassing disaster next to the relative success of Shadow Of The Moon and other early records — well, not really, because that impression is much exacerbated if you listen to them all in chronological order. Taken on their own, all these albums follow more or less the same musical / artistic philosophy: ultimately, they pander to the «novice attitude» of the pseudo-seeker who pretends, perhaps subconsciously, to be interested in «roots» and «history» and «world culture», but whose ideal understanding of such things is the movie 300. It used to be that, as long as we understood this, Blackmore's Night could occasionally be fun. But now it comes to the point that they have worn out their image, thinned out their ideas, and give us far more of this cheap ersatz than actual hooks, emotions, or viable syntheses of different traditions. The approach was questionable from the start, but it could work — and now it no longer can. Perhaps it is time to pack it in, and as an appropriate remedy, I suggest that Ritchie Blackmore become the resident guitar player for Lady Gaga, whereas Candice Night can earn an honest living singing backup vocals for the likes of Lana del Rey. In the meantime, this album gets a thumbs down — and, most likely, the same will apply to everything that comes next.

	0			Blackmore's Night - Celluloid Heroes
	12			Blackmore's Night - Diamonds and Rust
	3			Blackmore's Night - Fires at Midnight
	0			Blackmore's Night - Christmas Eve (English and German radio edit)
	1			Blackmore's Night - Christmas Eve
	6			The Kinks - Celluloid Heroes
	0			Blackmore's Night - 25 Years
	0			Blackmore's Night - Christmas Eve (German radio edit)
	8			Blackmore's Night - Ghost of a Rose
	4			Blackmore's Night - Believe in Me
	0			Blackmore's Night - Christmas Eve (English radio edit)
	1			Blackmore's Night - Christmas Eve (2013 Version)
	1			Blackmore's Night - Fires at Midnight

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