1988 Edsel/Demon
Originally released 1970
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While UK reissue specialists Edsel Records re-released Bad Rice on vinyl nearly thirty years ago, those with a penchant for digital audio playback had to wait until now for such an option. Considering that CDs currently occupy the same position in popular culture that LPs did in the late 1980s, one can’t help but wonder if this deluxe edition will help the album attract any new fans whatsoever. A cursory investigation of iTunes and Amazon reveals that it is still not available for purchase in MP3 format, which suggests that most buyers will be old geezers who actually still collect compact discs and are already familiar with the arcane pleasures of Ron Nagle’s musical masterpiece. Even if this is a lost opportunity to attract younger historically minded listeners in an official capacity, there are always music blogs and torrents to help spread the gospel of Bad Rice.
Nagle’s relative fame results primarily from his work as one of America’s leading ceramicists, with musical pursuits having generally taken a back seat to his abstract sculpting endeavours. The material he recorded as keyboardist and leader of first-wave 1960s San Francisco group the Mystery Trend has always been more historically significant to my brain than aesthetically pleasing to my ears, so I was a bit taken aback by the extent to which I came to love Bad Rice after belatedly scoring a used promotional copy of the LP several years ago. During an initial listening session, the realisation dawned on me that my ambivalent feelings toward the aforementioned Bay Area outfit resulted overwhelmingly from the limitations of Nagle’s bandmates, as opposed to any musical shortcomings on his part.
Originally released by Warner Brothers in 1970 (and quickly relegated to the cutout bins), the album displays a tremendous amount of musical variety with ass-kicking rockers such as “61 Clay,” “Marijuana Hell”, and “Sister Cora” alongside ballads “Frank’s Store,” “That’s What Friends Are For”, and “Delores”. And then there are numbers including the steel guitar-infused “Somethin’s Gotta Give Now”, the solo piano showcase “That’s What Friends Are For” and the incomparable “House of Mandia” thrown in for good measure. While the arrangements (courtesy of producer Jack Nitzsche) differ greatly from song to song, they are united by Nagle’s singular vision and memorable vignette-like lyrics. Throughout the proceedings, his underrated keyboard work and zesty vocals provide the glue that holds these remarkable performances together.
