On Nightfly we find Donald Fagen delightfully disjointed and alone with his glossy magazines and his late night FM memories as he attempts to reinvent his past as his sidekick attempts to get well in Hawaii, delivering a sonic ally full bodied, sleek and crisp, perhaps a bit more jazzy album, with nearly any track being able to be inserted into nearly any Steely Dan album without missing a beat.
On first listen it may seem that Fagen’s restless in the studio, unable to find his footing, yet on a second listen you’ll feel the walls collapse outward, as a cool breeze filters in, reconstructing hipster visions of long lost literary images from the late 50’s and early 60’s. And the truth regarding this release is almost stranger than fiction, with both Fagen and Becker having become larger than life characters on the music scene, folks who put out records, yet never toured, with mere hints at who they actually were, and what they were actually doing … both the stuff of legend and rumor.
It’s impossible to talk about this album without the backstory, one that’s filled with creepy people, drugs, overdoses, death, betrayal, lawyers, big money, deception, and paranoia, where Fagen is essentially now the studio personification of perfection, feeling that even opening the studio door must be done with an essential attitude that would lead him to making one of the cleanest and nearly faux-conceptual albums of all time. And it’s all done on 32 track analogue tap, meaning that even heard on CD, this bit of wanderlust fully occupies one’s listening space, and if you’re not listening on speakers with a dynamic range, then you’re missing half of the treat; at least that’s what Mr. Fagen would have you believe.
Nightfly is like unraveling The Beatles mystery … first of all it sounds more like Gaucho than Gaucho,it’s filled with blind optimism set in a time [the late 1950’s], that was never actually what it was remembered to be. The album strangely appears to have been created through the eyes of a man who dreamed these songs when he was ten or eleven years of age, where every mother took valium, every father looked like every other white father on the block, and perfectly manicured lawns where as important as the space race.
Fagen attends to each track with impeccable perfection and sophistication, so much so that each song takes on a romantic cinematic quality that flows seamlessly, both musically and vocally. But it’s the fidelity that captured me, with the album sounding like something recently discovered, because no one today or then was producing records that bounced within the peak ranges … meaning you can turn the volume up, but you can not distort this engineering marvel, you can only damage your speakers. Everything you hear is multi-layered and dense, like a finely woven raw silk shirt that slips to the floor with grace and style. Finally it’s important to understand the timeless nature of this outing … the record sounds as harmonically fresh today as it did when it was released, there are no effects, especially the drumming, which usually dates an album to a specific decade, but not here, Nightfly is completely in step and in sync with today.
One can certainly argue that Fagen was attempting to create his own identity here, but is so doing, he makes us ever more aware that the disembodied manifestation of Becker is standing front and center, and no matter how much Fagen tries to ignore his presences, this only makes it all the more obvious.
All of that being said, this is a black & white album in a world of colour, an album that most people are not going to reconcile with for years to come … so if you’re a Steely Dan fan, it’s much better to give yourself over to this solo project than it is to ignore it. Because as with other bands who go their separate ways, even apart, Becker and Fagen are still together.
*** In case you were wondering: The album's cover artwork features a photo of Donald Fagen as a disc jockey, he's wearing a collared shirt and tie, speaking into a RCA 77DX microphone. In front of him is a 1950's model 16 inch turntable with a Para-Flux A-16 tonearm, an ashtray, and a pack of Chesterfield King cigarettes. Visible on the table with the record player, is the cover of the 1958 jazz album Sonny Rollins and the Contemporary Leaders. On the wall behind is a large clock, indicating that the time is 4:09, though whether it is A.M. or P.M. is unclear ... though for all intent and purposes, we should consider this to be the graveyard shift.
*** 4:09 time on the clock: It's interesting if one considers that the 4:09 could represent April 9th or Book 4 Chapter 9. In the Genesis 4:9 of the Bible, the Lord said to Cain [Donald Fagen], "Where is your brother Abel [Walter Becker]?" "I don't know," he replied. "Am I my brother's keeper?" This is the best conclusion that I can come up with, as Becker was away in Hawaii getting clean, and in the middle of mounting legal litigations for a variety of reasons.
*** Never more so can I implore you to discover this release on vinyl, and aspect of fidelity that can not be ignored. Failing that, find an early AAD compact disc, even this will deliver superior sound quality.
Review by Jenell Kesler
