Second
Time Around
Traffic
The Best of Traffic:
The Millennium Collection (Island)
At last a minicompilation that gets it as right as it can.
From a strictly aesthetic point of view, there are two camps when it
comes to examining the history of semilegendary Traffic. One focuses
on their sampling of folkie psychedelia when they entered the ranks
as a more staid and grounded version of the English acid rock brigade
founded by Syd Barrett's Pink Floyd. The other focuses on their semijazzy,
long-jammy, Allmans-esque, post-Dave Mason period, as embodied by their
FM staple "Low Spark of High Heeled Boys." Luckily for those
of us whose allegiances lie with the former crew, most of The Best
of Traffic: The Millennium Collection is from their '60s incarnation,
that of "Dear Mr. Fantasy" and "Paper Sun," shorter,
punchier tunes from Stevie Winwood, and straight-up sing-alongs from
Mason himself. "Low Spark" appears thankfully at the
end, when the original band, augmented by session drummers and famous
bassists, riff over a three-note theme for what seems like forever.
The last train to bongsville, man.
However, as a "greatest hits" package, this isn't exactly
the compilation to seek out, especially if you're inclined to remember
Traffic from their latter, FM-radio days. Neither "Glad" nor
"Freedom Rider" appears here, and "John Barleycorn Must
Die" is also absent. It matters not. By focusing your attention
on their fractured take on blues modality plus vague Tolkeinisms, you
can almost forgive Winwood's decision to leave the greatest band he
ever fronted, the Spencer Davis Group.
After 30 years the verdict of history is in, and it says they were
lousy improvisers. Reed player Chris Wood couldn't have played third
sax in an American high school marching band, and neither Winwood nor
Mason could sustain even a rudimentary keyboard or guitar solo. In fact,
their best musician was generally unheralded drummer Jim Capaldi. But
their atmospherics are terrific – joyous and proudly British, giving
their hippie-dippiness a sense of absurdist whimsy that groups like
the Airplane and even the Dead had to really work hard to come near.
Nuttiness from the '60s that holds up – what a bizarre thought!
(Johnny Angel)
