| Track | Album |
|---|---|
| Cult Of Personality | Vivid |
| Glamour Boys | Vivid |
| Elvis Is Dead | Time’s Up |
| Solace Of You | Time’s Up |
| Type | Time’s Up |
| Leave It Alone | Stain |
| Nothingness | Stain |
| Flying | Collideøscope |
| Behind The Sun | The Chair In The Doorway |
| Who Shot Ya | Shade |
l-r: Vernon Reid, Doug Wimbish, Corey Glover, Will Calhoun – photo Gie Knaeps (1993)
I’ve always been drawn to artists who push boundaries, and Living Colour did just that – fusing hard rock, funk, jazz, and punk with a social conscience that hit like a thunderbolt. Formed in the mid-1980s in New York City by the visionary Vernon Reid on guitar, with Corey Glover’s soaring vocals, Muzz Skillings on bass, and Will Calhoun behind the drums, they emerged from the Black Rock Coalition scene, challenging stereotypes in a genre dominated by white acts. Black people weren’t supposed to listen to rock music let alone play it, despite the presence of legends like Hendrix and Phil Lynott. Their breakthrough came with Vivid in 1988, a double-platinum smash that put them on the map, followed by the experimental Time’s Up in 1990, which won a Grammy for Best Hard Rock Performance. Skillings was replaced by Doug Wimbish for 1993’s Stain, but internal tensions led to a breakup in 1995. They reunited in 2000, releasing Collideøscope in 2003 amid post-9/11 reflections, then The Chair In The Doorway in 2009 and Shade in 2017, blending covers and originals with their signature intensity. As of now, they’re reportedly working on new material, proving their relevance endures. Living Colour isn’t just about killer riffs and rhythms; they’re about message and musicianship, and these ten tracks capture their evolution from arena rockers to introspective innovators.
Cult Of Personality kicks things off with that iconic riff – you can hear Vernon Reid’s Hendrix-inspired fury right from the start. From their debut Vivid, this song is a blistering critique of charismatic leaders, weaving in samples from JFK and Malcolm X. Corey’s vocals soar over the heavy groove, and it’s no wonder it snagged a Grammy; it’s a masterclass in blending metal edge with funk bounce, setting the tone for their career as socially charged rockers.
Glamour Boys keeps the Vivid momentum with its satirical jab at superficial celebrity culture. Reid’s guitar work here is razor-sharp, mixing reggae rhythms with hard rock punch, while Glover’s delivery drips with irony. It’s catchy as hell, with those harmonies and a bass line from Skillings that locks in perfectly – a reminder of how Living Colour could make serious points while getting you to move.
Moving to Time’s Up, Elvis Is Dead flips the script on idol worship, name-dropping everyone from Jesus to JFK in a funky, horn-infused rant. Little Richard raps in a passionate plea to ‘be my guest/let him rest’. Another legend, Maceo Parker, drops one of the hottest sad solos you’ll ever hear. And in case you’re struggling to place the name, James Brown would growl ‘Maceo’ when he wanted a sax solo. It’s a whirlwind of styles – jazz fusion meets hip-hop beats – showcasing Calhoun’s dynamic drumming. It references NWA’s ‘Elvis was a hero to most’ but veers away from Chuck D’s controversial and somewhat incorrect view of Elvis and the black audience. Another legend, Mick Jagger, is one of the voices who recites Elvis is Dead in the breakdown.
Solace Of You, also from Time’s Up, uses a West African style; Malian to my ears, but I’m happy to be corrected. Glover’s emotive voice taking center stage over melodic guitars and subtle percussion. It’s a tender plea for comfort amid chaos, highlighting the band’s versatility beyond their heavy hitters. Reid’s chordal work and riff adds just the right touch of melancholy: proof they could deliver emotional depth as powerfully as they rocked. The Swahili sounding backing vocals remind us that African American culture, and through it rock music, started in Africa.
Type ramps up the aggression on Time’s Up, with its driving rhythm and Reid’s scorching leads critiquing media manipulation. The interplay between Skillings’ bass and Calhoun’s polyrhythms creates a tense, urgent feel. Glover’s rap-like verses build to a explosive chorus – it’s experimental rock at its finest, earning them that Grammy nod.
Jumping to Stain, Leave It Alone opens with a gritty riff that evolves into a full-throttle assault on conformity. Wimbish’s bass debut here adds a deep funk groove, complementing Reid’s intricate picking. Glover’s lyrics about breaking free are delivered with raw passion – it’s a standout for its balance of melody and menace, charting well and showing the band undiminished post-lineup shift.
Nothingness, another Stain gem, dives into atmospheric territory with echoing guitars and a haunting vibe. It’s more introspective, dealing with existential voids, but the musicianship shines – Calhoun’s tribal drums and Reid’s effects-laden solos create a sonic landscape. Glover’s vulnerable performance makes it poignant, a quieter counterpoint to their bombast.
From the reunion album Collideøscope, Flying soars as an emotional centerpiece, reflecting on loss in a post-9/11 world. Reid’s guitar weaves through ambient layers into powerful crescendos, with Glover’s heartfelt lyrics hitting hard. The band’s maturity shows in the nuanced production – it’s heavy yet hopeful, blending their roots with new influences like electronica touches.
Behind The Sun from The Chair In The Doorway brings a bluesy introspection, with Reid’s slide guitar evoking classic rock vibes amid modern heft. Themes of hidden truths resonate through Glover’s soulful croon and Doug Wimbish’s rumbling bass. It’s a mature evolution, proving their ability to age gracefully while keeping the fire – a hidden gem for fans of their deeper cuts.
Finally, Who Shot Ya from Shade reimagines the Notorious B.I.G. classic as a blistering rock-hip-hop hybrid, addressing gun violence with urgency. Vernon Reid’s riffing fuses with rap flows, Will Calhoun’s beats drive it home, and Corey Glover’s intensity ties it to their social commentary roots. It’s a bold cover that caps their career so far, blending eras and genres – and with new music on the horizon, Living Colour shows no signs of fading.
David Lewis is Australia’s best jazz mandolinist, unless you can name someone else: then he’s Australia’s second-best. In any case, he’s almost certainly top 100. He is a regular contributor to Toppermost, and also plays guitar, banjo and bass professionally. David is also the co-host of the New Politics Australia podcast, with Eddy Jokovich, and they have produced half a dozen books on Australian Politics based on the podcast.
TopperPost #1,197
These New Puritans
A fab post. Still consider ‘Vivid’ to be one of the great debut albums. Vernon Reid’s unique guitar sound/playing is incredible. Regarding the choices, pleased to see the two beauties that are Solace Of You and Nothingness in amongst the blistering Type.