Robin Trower: Bridge Of Sighs: 50th Anniversary Edition

Upon Robin Trower's departure from Procol Harum in 1971, he initiated his solo career with Twice Removed From Yesterday (Chrysalis, 1973). It was an understated debut to be sure, the entire first side virtually a suite of dream-like tracks such as the fervent "I Can't Wait Much Longer." The guitarist's debt to Jimi Hendrix was only slightly more obvious there than on his direct homage to the iconic guitar hero, "Song For A Dreamer," recorded with his prior band.

The sophomore effort, Bridge of Sighs (Chrysalis, 1974), was a decidedly more aggressive piece of work. Immediately on display during the purposefully positioned first cut, "Day of The Eagle," the blues motifs underneath the tremolo and echo permeating his instrument's tone became more prominent; (notwithstanding the presence of the genre standard "Rock Me Baby" on the first record).

The borderline hallucinatory atmosphere earmarking the previous album appeared only occasionally on its successor, but it was fitting, for the sake of stylistic continuity, that the record's title song was just such a piece. Nevertheless, with the overall shift in approach, it was no coincidence that this second Trower project became his commercial breakthrough. It is only appropriate that the half-century milestone of its release compels a lavish expanded collection.

More expansive than the five-decade double-CD package commemorating Twice Removed From Yesterday, this Bridge of Sighs is comprised of four-discs (three CDs plus a Blu-ray) featuring a 2024 remaster of album plus a similarly-upgraded alternate version of the longplayer: its eight-tracks here arrive sans the editing and production effects on the original release. In addition, various outtakes are included from the recording sessions, as well as radio promos of the time plus a full (albeit somewhat abbreviated) concert taking place around the album's spring '74 release.

Like the album before it produced by Procol's Matthew Fisher, Bridge of Sighs was notably engineered by Geoff Emerick of Beatles studio fame. Accordingly, it should come as no surprise that the audio quality—remastering courtesy of the same Richard Whitaker credited with the stereo mixes?—is of such depth and presence. What is a revelation, however, is the way the sonics do full justice to the musicianship of the three-piece band.

Drummer Reg Isidore in particular benefits most as his playing is confident and authoritative. Yet the wiry bass work of lead singer James Dewar—he of the rich tone of voice and fervent vocal delivery and phrasing—stands out almost as much in this improved clarity and separation; on tracks such as "Lady Love" and "Little Bit of Sympathy," this rhythm section wields an edge as lethal as that of Robin Trower's guitar. As a result, the trio sounds much larger than just its compact membership suggests on paper.

And the bandleader himself effectively transcends comparisons to his fretboard inspiration Hendrix before the slightly less-than-an-hour performance from the Record Plant Sausalito concludes. For example, the shuffle of "Too Rolling Stoned" does not suffer for the lack of overdub on its studio counterpart.

Of course, that is in part due to the judicious placement of the embellishments. But then almost two extra minutes of "Sympathy," as it was originally captured in the studio, renders moot any excessive ornamentation. Meanwhile, on "The Fool And Me," the sound of Fisher's organ floating around the perimeter of the core threesome's playing preserves the unified sense of a band.

While the group is in motion, in fact, the visceral impact of the musicianship is palpable on headphones. Yet that very sensation compels the temptation to hike up the volume from speakers in the room, all the better to fully experience the bang of the drums, the boom of the bass and the shred of the guitar.

The Blu-ray disc in this Bridge of Sighs 50th Anniversary Edition contains all the aforementioned content plus some additional rarities (which are ephemeral at best). Yet its impact on the Robin Trower fanbase must have been limited because the next year's companion piece devoted to For Earth Below (Chrysalis, 1975) consisted of four CDs enclosed in another handsome hardcover-bound design (alongside twenty-four pages of photos and text). Its reaffirmation of Robin Trower's stature as a contemporary guitar hero was every bit as resonant however. The man's prolific output of new material in recent years thus further justifies such practical validation of the work on which his reputation is rightfully based.

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