Witches’ brew
The only thing scary about the long-playing album “Witches Brew” is that you may not be able to find a copy of this best-selling record in any of your favorite online vinyl stores or from various analogue flea markets which have suddenly mushroomed ever since vinyl reclaimed its enviable position in mainstream music.
“Witches Brew” was originally issued in 1958 by RCA Records (LSC-2225) featuring its famous ‘shaded dog’ label. It has been long out of print until its re-issue by Classic Records in the mid-1990s, first as 180-gram 33-1/3 LPs and later as limited edition pressings cut at 45 RPM on multiple, single-sided discs.
Around the year 2005, more titles were pressed numerous times at diverse weights and kinds of vinyl that come in album jackets: the Quiex SV, Quiex SV-P, Clarity Vinyl and 200 Gram vinyl. All have been out of print; and the only way to get one is to wait for someone to unload his copy in eBay or in various online stores. In the latest bidding I witnessed in eBay, the album was snatched at $200 with the starting price of $99.
What’s in this much-sought-after vinyl?
Played on a system which can reproduce audio signals on both ends of the frequency spectrum, one can expect so much more than dazzling orchestral colors. Performed by Alexander Gibson and the New Symphony Orchestra of London, the album offers great dynamics and wide, impressive soundstages.
I own both the original RCA pressing and the Clarity 45 RPM white vinyl box set. I know Tom Port of Better Records will frown on the latter, and will insist that his ‘Hot Stamper’ copy is far superior in reproducing quality sound. This time, I will have to disagree with him.
I enjoy both the original and the Clarity pressings even if they differ in sound presentation. In the RCA original, you’d be treated to a natural-sounding orchestral image; less “in your face” music, and more of a truthful recording of an orchestra in bursting gradient action. The Clarity copy, on the other hand, has more slam. The dynamic is such that the orchestral attack can give you that riveting cinematic experience. Both, however, can make you “see” startling images through your ears.
If there’s witchery a-brewing in this album, it is in the wizardry of tenor. It is infectious magic which does not leave a troubling aftermath. If it didn’t cast a spell on its listeners, why would they still be craving for it?
Tam, the often drunk farmer and thoughtless husband, in Robert Burn’s narrative poem “Tam O’Shanter” saw an “unco sight” concerning witches and other treacherous spirits. “Witches’ Brew” has a dozen “unco visions” interpreted in music, and the basic title deftly summarizes the pervading graphic pattern. Witches, demons, a gnome, skeletons and associated subjects are set forth in organized sounds, beginning with the experience of Tam O’Shanter and ending with an episode of Mephistopheles and Faust.
His wife Kate, so the poem goes, describes Tam as “a skellum, a blethering, blustering, drunken bellum” and that he took the road on “sic a night … as ne’er poor sinner was abroad in.” Tam stumbled upon a road leading to a sort of convention of witches, where “auld Nick, in shape o’ beast” played the pipes for a riotous dance that culminated in the pursuit of Tam by the witches, “wi’ mony an eldritch screetch and hollow.”
The Tam O’Shanter overture is composed by Malcolm Arnold, an English musician who has won acclaim for many kinds of music. He was born in 1921, was first trumpeter of the London Philharmonic Orchestra at the age of 21, and became known generally as a composer a year later. “Tam O’Shanter” is among his most famous works, along with the score for the film “The Bridge on the River Kwai,” for which he won an Academy award.
Mussorgsky’s piano piece “Pictures at an Exhibition,” scored for orchestra by Ravel, presents a view of a gnome, as it does in the Viktor Hartmann painting which was the filmic inspiration for the music. This gnome has contorted legs, and the music vividly draws his problematic and somehow frightening progress.
The orchestral fantasy “A Night on Bare Mountain” has undergone several stages in Mussorgsky’s career, and has been fashioned into its familiar version by Rimsky-Korsakoff. The plot is simple. Weird voices from below the ground, the coming of the spirits, the Black Mass of the god Tchernobog, and the exuberant festivity, concluded by the sound of a church bell. It’s all over by dawn, and it’s clear to the ear that witches must have been present at the night’s gaiety.
Humperdinck’s witch in “Hansel and Gretel” is a straight-and-crooked witch, even when riding a broomstick in full view of everyone. If the stage trappings can’t billet the ride convincingly, the orchestra delivers everything for the imagination. Believe you me, music can weave that magic dazzlingly and merrily.
* * *
For comments or questions, please e-mail me at audioglow@yahoo.com. You can also visit www.wiredstate.com for quick answers to your audio concerns.
