Living Colour and Vernon Reid

(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)

The Black guitarist Vernon Reid (born in England in 1958 but raised in Brooklyn), after a few school bands (in 1976 with Melvin Gibbs on bass in Point Of View, and two years later in Stepping Stone, which received praise but never released anything), honed his skills in jazz guitarist Ronald Shannon Jackson’s Decoding Society in New York over five years and seven albums. After joining Joe Bowie’s Defunkt and recording Smash And Scatteration (Epic, 1985) with Bill Frisell, completing his jazz/funk training, in 1984 he decided to move toward rock music and, recruiting singer Corey Glover, bassist Muzz Skillings, and drummer William Calhoun, all Black musicians, launched his own band, Living Colour. While Reid’s Hendrix-inspired guitar work elevates their sound, the blend of blues-rock and funk produces a substantial hard rock that fits perfectly into the genre’s revival. Essentially, Reid was offering a rock version of James Blood Ulmer’s jazz. The rhythm section was one of the most spectacular and creative of the era.

Their album Vivid (Epic, 1988) became one of the revelations of 1988. While part of the press celebrated it largely for the socially conscious themes (admittedly with little imagination) of the composer—as if it were a revival of the Black Panthers—or simply because four Black musicians were playing traditionally “white” rock, Living Colour in reality represented a musically limited novelty, but one that was formally impeccable. Drawing on the experiences of Bad Brains and Public Enemy, they injected the most spectacular elements of Black culture, exploiting even the simplest chords and always overturning stereotypical harmonic structures, effectively reviving hard rock, a genre that seemed to have nothing new to say.

Their approach is conservative to the point of plagiarism, but they benefit from Reid’s genius, perhaps the only guitarist in the world able to fuse jazz and thrash patterns, capable of creating an intelligent amalgam of theatrical heavy metal progressions and sophisticated bebop phrasing; from Calhoun’s Elvin Jones–style polyrhythms, a Berklee College of Music graduate of 1986, specialized in complicating even the simplest beats; and from Glover’s powerful, clear vocals, who had unsuccessfully attempted an acting career and does not at all resemble the roaring Black “shouters” of the past.

The triggering factor is, of course, the guitar, the traditional star of hard rock. A masterful hurricane of solos and counterpoints launches the melodic theme of Cult Of Personality, the album’s masterpiece; a visceral riff underpins the syncopated groove of Desperate People, another classic; a devastating distortion propels the war cry of Which Way America. Meanwhile, the pop melody of Open Letter, the country feel of Broken Hearts, the rap-funk novelty of Funny Vibe, and especially the catchy, rhythmic chorus of Glamour Boys are clear nods to the charts.

Time's Up (Epic, 1990) repeats their big success, even though the music is somewhat faded, caught between experiment and accessibility, between future and past. Even Living Colour attempt to renew the rock song form, but in the commercial sense of the project, aiming to produce a new AOR. The result is elaborate compositions reminiscent of Yes-style progressive rock (Type), rhythm and blues ballads (Love Rears Its Ugly Head), and Prince-inspired funk erotica (Under Cover Of Darkness, written by Glover); tracks that, far from revolutionizing rock music, instead create a somewhat scattered picture.
The noblest aspect of the effort—the bold experimentation with arrangements—succeeds only occasionally, as in New Jack Theme, an off-tempo heavy metal track packed with electronic effects, and in Solace Of You, built on tropical tremors and a strong melodic theme. But neither the “retro” approach nor the creative pretensions can curb their stubborn pursuit of crossover pop, whether expressed in the manner of a massive hard rock colossus (Information Overload) or as a political statement (Pride, by Calhoun, perhaps the best song on the album).

After the mini-album Biscuits (Epic, 1991), Doug Wimbish took over bass duties. He was a veteran of New York clubs and a session musician on numerous rap records (notably in Tackhead), a savage and delirious player capable of extracting almost science-fictional sounds from his instrument.

Stain (Epic, 1993), however, confirms the fundamental lack of ideas in the compositional phase, flirting with speed metal (Go Away), soul (Leave It Alone), funk (Nothingness), and hip-hop (WTFF), without ever reaching a definitive synthesis or the masterpiece that would justify the effort. Only Auslander and Postman maintain the standard of their hard rock. Despite Reid’s long-winded and narcissistic contributions, the rhythm section remains the protagonist of the harmony, one of the most creative in rock history, transforming every song into a pyrotechnic display of timing and vibrations. But they cannot compensate for the absence of strong songs.

The anthology Pride (Epic, 1995) also contains the last tracks recorded by the group, including two of their hard-rock gems (Release The Pressure, Sacred Ground) and what is perhaps their best funk track (These Are Happy Times).

Vernon Reid also released his solo album Mistaken Identity (Epic, 1996), featuring a supergroup with Don Byron on clarinet, DJ Logic on turntables, Curtis Watts on percussion, Leon Guenbaum on keyboards, and Hank Schroy on bass. Heavily influenced by hip hop, Reid experiments with sampling, jazz, and syncopated rhythms. His guitar only occasionally hints at verbs from his blues (Lightnin) and hard rock language.

Reid revitalized hard rock and heavy metal, but at the expense of funk and jazz, which, in the trajectory of Living Colour toward a sound that is less adventurous but increasingly aggressive, occupy an increasingly subordinate position. As their technical prowess grows, it seems to correspond to a progressive impoverishment of inspiration in this supergroup.