Somewhere Between The Sleeves

“Horses” is not the best record Patti Smith has ever made. It’s one of rock and roll’s best opening acts, but it’s dwarfed her career with it’s gigantism. That album cover, those opening lines. Great moments, sure, but not everything.

“Radio Ethiopia”, her 1976 follow-up, is almost never mentioned. Where its predecessor bridges the logical gap from artist-as-poet plus rock and roll star, the follow up ditches the first half of that equation and shoots straight for affectation. The result – something way more raucous and virile.

It’s pretty clear from the get-go. The woman that opened her first record with the line “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine” opens the second with the exuberant “Ask the Angels”. Chunky chords, a firm low end and wild guitars are a ways away from the slow-burn intensity of tracks like “Gloria”. But that’s not the only difference.

“Pissing In a River” is frighteningly E-Street, predating future collaborator Bruce Springsteen’s “Darkness on the Edge of Town” sound two years ahead of time. The hallmarks are there – dramatic piano, penetrating organ and downright cinematic soloing. Smith’s performance, her voice cresting with each wave, only adds to the intensity.

There’s a lot to like here: “Poppies” is a narcotic ballad with some of Smith’s most curious lyrics: “Everything is soakin’ and spread with butter.” The title track is a full ten minute auditory assault where Smith attacks primal drums and a scribbly guitars with imitable swagger. She glides across the mess with conviction, leaving no doubt, it’s a noise rock track, but with the added lyrical curiosities (sample: “When I See Brancusi/His Eyes Searching Out The Infinite Abstract Spaces”), it ends up being a satisfying experiment.

Side two unveils the album’s best moment – the riotous “Pumping (My Heart)”. It’s a masterful three minutes of seventies New York City punk. The keys are carnal, guitars oscillate furiously and Smith is in full howl mode. As the song hurls towards its climax, Smith keeps shouting “Total abandon!” It’s a perfect phrase to encapsulate the entire record. It’s an artist acting on instinct instead of playing to popular sensibilities. It’s wild, ugly and not an easy listen. Perhaps that’s why it’s been forgotten over time. Most people prefer to spare themselves the difficulty.

Patti Smith never cared to begin with.