Peter Frampton Band
One of the problems with people’s understanding and appreciation – or lack thereof – when it comes to The BluesTM is albums like this.
Peter Frampton was my hero when I was a kid (and even into my teens) I drank up Frampton Comes Alive like it was the neightbourhood KoolAid and so did the fucking neighbours because they had no choice on account of the enormous speakers we had.
What a time that was. There was something thrilling about that album – even as I discovered it about 15 years after it was released. But that was then.
And though I’ve always admired Frampton and his earnestness – from the Bowie tour to his generous interviews and his nearly self-aware geekiness I cannot abide this at all.
The sad news is that I think he means it. I think he thinks this is him paying tribute and that it could mean anything and that it’s even close to the sound of anything resembling the blues. (It makes Gary Moore sound like Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown or Guitar Shorty ffs).
The good news? Peter Frampton is retiring.