"And the road runs through the glass."
STRAY " Live At The Marquee "1983
I'm alone with my computer in a small hotel room without a soul. I happen to be traveling for my job, and tirelessly I find myself in these hotels or cozy, or gays, fair practices in the peripheries of large cities. My small window, I see during construction companies, warehouses, factory chimneys smoking, and large buildings sad. Sometimes a channel or a river runs through this human nothingness, bringing its wet and cold breath a semblance of nature, both comforting and frightening.
I sometimes, taking the highway to go to my temporary workplace, navigate to new landscapes known. These are the ones of my childhood holidays, or at least those that led to my vacation. A highway has always marked, it is the A7. This way, past Lyon, mixes country, mountain, River, industrial landscapes, and small houses nestled in the hills. It emerges from all this a great sadness to me. Because basically, although it is in what we can already call the South and we can distinguish the remains of a glorious past, rich, mixed with industrial ruins symbol of inexorable decline of a region whose activity is now focused on large cities that are nearby Lyon, Grenoble and Marseille.
I always that same feeling when I cross this corner of France. At nightfall, the sun glowing in the distance. The dashboard of my car lit a burning orange, the tachometer and speedometer revved. A train on the tracks parallel to me twice. The light illuminates the horizon its cars as yellow rectangles. These are the faces of executives lost in the daily and fatigue. As a young blond woman, so pretty. It's time for a soundtrack ideal, that of the road.
a child in the car with my parents, I sang what I thought was the Rock. Following prolonged listening to tapes of my sister, Bruce Springsteen, Dire Straits, Phone, or police, I invent a perfect soundtrack to these images that passed before my eyes. I had
dynamic music, galloping. Guitar chords had to be both peevish and melancholy. The voice should be heroic and desperate, as the lonely man who did more than the road as a lifeline. He looked a little warmth, the smile of a woman who finds herself alone with him in this world of concrete.
If sometimes, an agreement, a solo, a bridge of the famous song tapes seemed to be the time that a few tens of seconds the outline of what I had in mind, no album is as much as told me that above.
And it is the result of a long quest. Fan and transition absolute group Stray, I tried this live long, reissued on cd many years ago, and totally unavailable for sale since. Its price at some sites selling online is totally prohibitive, and destroys any passion for music. Moreover, it is interesting to note how the money often destroys all pleasure, as simple as it is. My research led me to still an offer to sell at a surprisingly low price which the seller assured me that seemed entirely unaware of his article. Whatever.
Stray is an English quartet formed in 1967 by guitarist Del Bromham, bass player Gary Giles, Steve Gadd and singer in London. A drummer named Ritchie Cole joined the merry band. Then aged 16, the four school friends is made by hand on John Mayall, Cream and Jimi Hendrix. The first album appeared in 1970 and is entering a masterpiece, like all disks Stray elsewhere.
Their music is quite indescribable an alloy of Hard-Rock, Blues, and Progressive Rock. Played with a subtlety and instrumental talent bluffing, it releases energy and rage incredible. It is the sound of sweat and anger. It is this burning coal that powers the fastest locomotives.
The group throws in the towel yet in 1977 (in the meantime, Steve Gadd was replaced by Peter Dyers in 1975) after what is arguably their best album, including "Hearts Of Fire". Having secured the first parts of the most prestigious Kiss Rush, have scoured the UK in length and breadth, the group decided to take a management type energetic Peter Grant. 
They end up with an old killer, Charles Cray, albeit a very rigorous discipline level, but totally out of the race side music. The same story will be feasted upon in some English newspapers, in spite of Stray. Adding to this the wave punk who declared war on the Hard-Rock and groups of the early 70s, and you get the scheduled end of training, however, exceptional. Unable to get any gigs, no real commercial success, the four boys separate. Yet barely 26 years old, they are already old farts. 
Del Bromham, guitarist and principal composer, formed his own trio. But despite all his talent, he remains anonymous. It is a time tipped to replace Brian Robertson of Thin Lizzy in 1978, but Phil Lynott J. composer too good to fit into such a group which is obviously the leader.
A flash of hope torn Soon the horizon when the dying man mutates into Punk New Wave, and the Heavy-Metal took control of the English charts in 1980 as the New Wave Of British Heavy-Metal (NWOBHM). Reformed in 1981 as Stray-Bromham-Dyer-Giles Cole hits the road. But again his Rock too elaborate, too subtle, do not move. It is even more matter of age as Thin Lizzy, Judas Priest and Budgie found new impetus in the middle of Iron Maiden, Saxon, Def Leppard, Diamond Head, Praying Mantis, or Angelwitch.
This leaves it live. Recorded at the Marquee in London in 1983, it could have been disappointing. Really. Because numbers of bands of the 70s have persevered in the 80s and have sunk into the stew. Battery rotten with reverb, the guitar metal, the bass slapper, funky vocals can. Even the Rolling Stones and Deep Purple have fallen into such crap.
In 1983, Stray is undoubtedly the last great British rock group with Motorhead. The sound has not changed. Crude, rough. Blues. The real difference is even this minimal production, that of a certain Gordon Rowley. He caught the very substance of what this exceptional group Stray. Each instrument, brilliant, is highlighted, without effect. The audience is there, dull grotesque. How many live discs have fallen into ridicule by the public stadium roaring typed while saying U.S. training does not meet any U.S. theater.
realist, "Live At The Marquee" transcribed reality: a band playing his music to the delight of his audience. So no matter how small. More than anything, this disc is an almost perfect summary of the best tracks on Stray. The opening in the rough "Houdini" is a daydream. This piece, mixing heavy riffs and choruses from California with a detour through the West End almost perfect, opens the musical horizons of the public wonder. The result is another that the best way of Stray, namely 'One Night In Texas ". This epic track, constantly maintaining the emotional strain, with its text sip of roads and girls, all described with a rare subtlety, is a peak of electric music.
"After The Storm" is another summit. Symbol of Blues-Rock both Heavy and Progressive, it is an endless pool of brilliant riffs, solos and majestic. Cathedral guitar unique, she masterfully transcribed the incredible energy that can be felt after a storm, whatever its nature. These arpeggios, these accelerations, these delays making heavy opaque horizon. This triumvirate of rock'n'roll pantheon is already dark. That of the road. It needs to add "All In Your Mind" wild, unbridled, flawless. Paced, mixing psychedelia and speed, it is undoubtedly the ultimate version of the flagship title of Heavy Rock Underground 70s. Whatever replays pell-mell Iron Maiden or Queens Of The Stone Age.
Del Bromham is on top of his art, inventive percussion. Backed by a rhythm section, Gary Giles and Ritchie Cole, who has probably never played as well, he sent his music in the stars, making it completely out of fashion, timeless.
Everything is set in a setting of exceptional humor and poetry: the wallet, with his mustachioed cowboy on horseback, proud, on a cow.
And the road runs through the glass. Another train passes traffic, indifferent, sure of his power. Scots pines, the tiles. Old wrecks Berliet in vacant lots, barges dying on the Rhone, symbols of another time. And as a stray. Stray Dog. And the road running.
all rights reserved
STRAY " Live At The Marquee "1983
I'm alone with my computer in a small hotel room without a soul. I happen to be traveling for my job, and tirelessly I find myself in these hotels or cozy, or gays, fair practices in the peripheries of large cities. My small window, I see during construction companies, warehouses, factory chimneys smoking, and large buildings sad. Sometimes a channel or a river runs through this human nothingness, bringing its wet and cold breath a semblance of nature, both comforting and frightening.
I sometimes, taking the highway to go to my temporary workplace, navigate to new landscapes known. These are the ones of my childhood holidays, or at least those that led to my vacation. A highway has always marked, it is the A7. This way, past Lyon, mixes country, mountain, River, industrial landscapes, and small houses nestled in the hills. It emerges from all this a great sadness to me. Because basically, although it is in what we can already call the South and we can distinguish the remains of a glorious past, rich, mixed with industrial ruins symbol of inexorable decline of a region whose activity is now focused on large cities that are nearby Lyon, Grenoble and Marseille.
I always that same feeling when I cross this corner of France. At nightfall, the sun glowing in the distance. The dashboard of my car lit a burning orange, the tachometer and speedometer revved. A train on the tracks parallel to me twice. The light illuminates the horizon its cars as yellow rectangles. These are the faces of executives lost in the daily and fatigue. As a young blond woman, so pretty. It's time for a soundtrack ideal, that of the road. a child in the car with my parents, I sang what I thought was the Rock. Following prolonged listening to tapes of my sister, Bruce Springsteen, Dire Straits, Phone, or police, I invent a perfect soundtrack to these images that passed before my eyes. I had dynamic music, galloping. Guitar chords had to be both peevish and melancholy. The voice should be heroic and desperate, as the lonely man who did more than the road as a lifeline. He looked a little warmth, the smile of a woman who finds herself alone with him in this world of concrete.
If sometimes, an agreement, a solo, a bridge of the famous song tapes seemed to be the time that a few tens of seconds the outline of what I had in mind, no album is as much as told me that above.
And it is the result of a long quest. Fan and transition absolute group Stray, I tried this live long, reissued on cd many years ago, and totally unavailable for sale since. Its price at some sites selling online is totally prohibitive, and destroys any passion for music. Moreover, it is interesting to note how the money often destroys all pleasure, as simple as it is. My research led me to still an offer to sell at a surprisingly low price which the seller assured me that seemed entirely unaware of his article. Whatever. Stray is an English quartet formed in 1967 by guitarist Del Bromham, bass player Gary Giles, Steve Gadd and singer in London. A drummer named Ritchie Cole joined the merry band. Then aged 16, the four school friends is made by hand on John Mayall, Cream and Jimi Hendrix. The first album appeared in 1970 and is entering a masterpiece, like all disks Stray elsewhere. Their music is quite indescribable an alloy of Hard-Rock, Blues, and Progressive Rock. Played with a subtlety and instrumental talent bluffing, it releases energy and rage incredible. It is the sound of sweat and anger. It is this burning coal that powers the fastest locomotives. The group throws in the towel yet in 1977 (in the meantime, Steve Gadd was replaced by Peter Dyers in 1975) after what is arguably their best album, including "Hearts Of Fire". Having secured the first parts of the most prestigious Kiss Rush, have scoured the UK in length and breadth, the group decided to take a management type energetic Peter Grant. They end up with an old killer, Charles Cray, albeit a very rigorous discipline level, but totally out of the race side music. The same story will be feasted upon in some English newspapers, in spite of Stray. Adding to this the wave punk who declared war on the Hard-Rock and groups of the early 70s, and you get the scheduled end of training, however, exceptional. Unable to get any gigs, no real commercial success, the four boys separate. Yet barely 26 years old, they are already old farts. Del Bromham, guitarist and principal composer, formed his own trio. But despite all his talent, he remains anonymous. It is a time tipped to replace Brian Robertson of Thin Lizzy in 1978, but Phil Lynott J. composer too good to fit into such a group which is obviously the leader.
A flash of hope torn Soon the horizon when the dying man mutates into Punk New Wave, and the Heavy-Metal took control of the English charts in 1980 as the New Wave Of British Heavy-Metal (NWOBHM). Reformed in 1981 as Stray-Bromham-Dyer-Giles Cole hits the road. But again his Rock too elaborate, too subtle, do not move. It is even more matter of age as Thin Lizzy, Judas Priest and Budgie found new impetus in the middle of Iron Maiden, Saxon, Def Leppard, Diamond Head, Praying Mantis, or Angelwitch. This leaves it live. Recorded at the Marquee in London in 1983, it could have been disappointing. Really. Because numbers of bands of the 70s have persevered in the 80s and have sunk into the stew. Battery rotten with reverb, the guitar metal, the bass slapper, funky vocals can. Even the Rolling Stones and Deep Purple have fallen into such crap.
In 1983, Stray is undoubtedly the last great British rock group with Motorhead. The sound has not changed. Crude, rough. Blues. The real difference is even this minimal production, that of a certain Gordon Rowley. He caught the very substance of what this exceptional group Stray. Each instrument, brilliant, is highlighted, without effect. The audience is there, dull grotesque. How many live discs have fallen into ridicule by the public stadium roaring typed while saying U.S. training does not meet any U.S. theater. realist, "Live At The Marquee" transcribed reality: a band playing his music to the delight of his audience. So no matter how small. More than anything, this disc is an almost perfect summary of the best tracks on Stray. The opening in the rough "Houdini" is a daydream. This piece, mixing heavy riffs and choruses from California with a detour through the West End almost perfect, opens the musical horizons of the public wonder. The result is another that the best way of Stray, namely 'One Night In Texas ". This epic track, constantly maintaining the emotional strain, with its text sip of roads and girls, all described with a rare subtlety, is a peak of electric music. "After The Storm" is another summit. Symbol of Blues-Rock both Heavy and Progressive, it is an endless pool of brilliant riffs, solos and majestic. Cathedral guitar unique, she masterfully transcribed the incredible energy that can be felt after a storm, whatever its nature. These arpeggios, these accelerations, these delays making heavy opaque horizon. This triumvirate of rock'n'roll pantheon is already dark. That of the road. It needs to add "All In Your Mind" wild, unbridled, flawless. Paced, mixing psychedelia and speed, it is undoubtedly the ultimate version of the flagship title of Heavy Rock Underground 70s. Whatever replays pell-mell Iron Maiden or Queens Of The Stone Age. Del Bromham is on top of his art, inventive percussion. Backed by a rhythm section, Gary Giles and Ritchie Cole, who has probably never played as well, he sent his music in the stars, making it completely out of fashion, timeless. Everything is set in a setting of exceptional humor and poetry: the wallet, with his mustachioed cowboy on horseback, proud, on a cow.
And the road runs through the glass. Another train passes traffic, indifferent, sure of his power. Scots pines, the tiles. Old wrecks Berliet in vacant lots, barges dying on the Rhone, symbols of another time. And as a stray. Stray Dog. And the road running.
all rights reserved 
Steamhammer is a British band whose core is formed by Martin Pugh on guitar and Kieran White on vocals and guitar. Drummer and bassist change with every album or so. Steamhammer music is first, and quite logically, mostly rooted in the British Blues Boom, but very late, since we are already in 1969, and Led Zeppelin just uncheck its first salvos, putting it on the ground rest of the movement shortly after the tornado Cream. Nevertheless, a song from the first disk will not go unnoticed, since the set-list includes an English quartet who just get down to boogie: Status Quo. The song in question is none other than Junior's Wailing ". 
The group's music will move quickly to a heavy blues-progressive particularly brilliant, as confirmed in the second disc, "MK II" in 1969. The warm voice of White, combined with thick chorus burning Pugh finds its perfect synthesis. The prodigious drummer Mick Bradley just happened is not for nothing, and breathed a rhythm both heavy and jazz. He finds his alter-ego in the four-string in the person of Steve Davy, and the pinnacle of the quartet is "Mountains" in 1970. Wonderful monument to the glory of a heavy-blues both dreamy and strange, esoteric sort of alloy of blues-folk of Pentangle and English heavy metal and gothic black first Black Sabbath, it is a masterpiece absolute. A strange mystery 
flat run if this latest record called "Speech" in 1972. The group broke up. Tensions have arisen, the fault in different musical directions, and also because of the commercial failure of this great music yet. That leaves 
What exactly happened during those 18 months between "Mountains" and "Speech"? Hard to say, but it is something terrifying. Because this album is even darker, darker, more impenetrable, more terrifying than the first Black Sabbath or "End Of The Game" by Peter Green, however, a yardstick for emotional nightmare. We knew that the lads from Black Sabbath had a hard life in their infancy, from the dark Birmingham, Iommi lost his fingers in a hydraulic press (Steam Hammer one, named the ram who cut the thick pieces of metal smelters?) , the first concerts in amphetamines in order to survive in the van in the snow. And then Green, his bad LSD trip in Munich in 1969, and his mental wreck until he left Fleetwood Mac in May 1970. 
dexterity of the three musicians is startling. Fine, elegant, confident of their strength, they twist your brain gradually, before the roaring bass Cennamo off of your stops. Watt-Roy sings black esoteric texts, music is incantatory, haunting, cold. Then the song in a hand off between jazz-rock and psychedelia that Martin Pugh's guitar works wonders. It is a crossing on the moor, a full moon. Small bushes rustle in the wind shaved, and your not just crack the stones of the little road that seems to lead you nowhere. The sea wind blows harder and harder, and between two clouds, you see the moon in the foam covering the steep rocks of the coast. You do not know exactly why you're here. You are torn between anxiety this walk alone at night, and that indescribable feeling of freedom, as if nothing else than the elements does weigh on you. These moments when 
Time to flip the disc vinyl, you hit "Telegram." Frightening call for help, it is a synthesis of sick yet undeniable talent and disgusting Steamhammer. 
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