Van Morrison 49: Latest Record Project

As if the record business didn’t annoy him enough, Van Morrison was forced to curtail his performing career by the rude intrusion of the worldwide Covid pandemic. Naturally, he took it personally. Denied the right to play shows he released three singles in succession—“Born To Be Free”, “As I Walked Out”, and the more pointed “No More Lockdown”—as well as a collaboration with Eric Clapton on “Stand And Deliver”, as if these two guys alone were hit hardest by the crisis.

Van’s attitude extended to the title of Latest Record Project Volume 1, with cover art that resembled a multitrack tape box. Having had two years since his last album, he managed to come up with over two hours’ worth of material, and just shoved it out there. (None of the 2020 singles nor the Clapton collaborations were included.) Our first thought was this was a similar tack he took with Hymns To The Silence, and then we reeled at the concept of that album being thirty years old already.

The title track is along the lines of his other rants about the futility of the business he’s chosen, and made longer by singing it a few words at a time with the band repeating each line. “Where Have All The Rebels Gone?” is a pertinent question, except that his immediate answer is “hiding behind computer screens.” Beyond that it’s a one-chord groove with tasty rockabilly guitar. “Psychoanalysts’ Ball” would be lovely if it were about anything else, and the decent soul groove of “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished” can’t hide the fact that most of the lines don’t bother to rhyme. “Tried To Do The Right Thing” restates the thesis better, musically as well as lyrically, and sticks to romance.

It’s back to complaining on “The Long Con”, a long 12-bar blues about being a “targeted individual”, the victim of whoever’s “pulling the strings”. He finds the joy in music in “Thank God For The Blues”, but it’s hard to think of “Big Lie” as anything else but a modern rant for which he roped in British blues belter Chris Farlowe. If only he’d left out the first verse and called it something else. “A Few Bars Early” is a clever idea, and suitably brooding.

We would bet actual money that Van was familiar with the blues standard “It Hurts Me Too”, but based on his song of the same name, he missed the point (hint: it’s called empathy). “Only A Song” seems to suggest that he can’t be held accountable for whatever he’s spewed, but at least he plays a decent alto sax. “Diabolic Pressure” must have kept him limited to two chords and a variation thereof outside of the bridge, “Deadbeat Saturday Night” is full of obvious rhymes, and we get the point by the time of “Blue Funk”, an otherwise decent song—the slap at “mainstream media” aside—but we’re only halfway through this album.

The message of “Double Agent” is muddled, with its slaps at MI5 and Kool-Aid, and “Double Bind” (which begins with the revelation that “mind control keeps you in line”) is just as paranoid. “Love Should Come With A Warning” is very welcome change of pace, and “Breaking The Spell” finds comfort in nature, even if the chorus is unoriginal. “Up County Down” is just plain confusing; there are lots of Irish references in the lyrics, along with calls back to earlier points in his career, but he couldn’t be bothered to add more than a mandolin and banjo to the R&B combo, and the chorus is about as inspired as “Blowin’ Your Nose” or “Nose In Your Blow”.

“Duper’s Delight” would be a wonderful reverie straight off of Into The Music or No Guru, No Method, No Teacher but for its diatribe against the lies “they” (probably female newscasters) are telling you. He strums a fine guitar on “My Time After A While”, another competent blues otherwise tainted in this context, and while no sax player is credited, that sounds like him too. “He’s Not The Kingpin” is sung in unison with P.J. Proby, another special guest forced to sing about the media’s agenda. “Mistaken Identity” is yet another example where he insists that we don’t really know him, which is laughable considering his slanted material.

The home stretch isn’t promising. The Bo Diddley retread “Stop Bitching, Do Something” might as well have been titled “Put Up Or Shut Up”. “Western Man” has a mild country swing but again is too busy hurling insults to attempt to rhyme. No points for guessing what “They Control The Media” is about, but there’s no beating “Why Are You On Facebook?” for inanity. Finally, “Jealousy” is his answer to anyone who’s still on his lawn, in case “Mistaken Identity” didn’t make it clear.

Anyone who’s followed Van’s career closely to this point will have already realized he is possibly the grumpiest millionaire this side of a Dickens novel, and it’s hard to imagine anyone taking his side. Six songs out of 28 isn’t even a decent batting average, but if he’d taken those and found other lyrics to the likes of “Duper’s Delight”, we might have actually had a concise album worthy of his voice, which is still as strong as ever. But no.

Van Morrison Latest Record Project Volume 1 (2021)—2

Jane’s Addiction 2: Nothing’s Shocking

Thanks to a major label deal and a lot of press, Jane’s Addiction broke into mainstream success with Nothing’s Shocking. And right out of the gate, they were controversial, with cover art and lyrics requiring the now ubiquitous parental advisory sticker. That didn’t distract too much from the music, which sported plenty of guitars, electric and acoustic dynamics, and a vocal delivery that garnered more complimentary comparisons than other children of Led Zeppelin at the time.

The album begins, as many of their songs do, with a simple Eric Avery bass riff that barely hints at what’s to follow. A few power chords are hit and held, then drums join to match the rhythm and a melody appears. After some riffs and lyrics consisting of “here we go” and “home”, and that’s “Up The Beach”. An Arthur Lee-style acoustic intro belies the power of “Ocean Size”, and while it does reappear to help the verses breathe, it’s mostly a chance for Perry Farrell to yell in between Dave Navarro’s fretwork. “Had A Dad” is the first real song with non-abstract lyrics, in this case, the grunge generation ongoing absent parent issues. Stephen Perkins gets to explore his kit at the start of “Ted, Just Admit It…”; besides showing their predilection for ellipses, an actual soundbite from Ted Bundy is added to enforce the thesis that sex is violent and provide the album title. The double-time coda takes the tune to the next level. “Standing In The Shower… Thinking” sports a scratchy funk rhythm that would become their trademark.

It’s been something of an aural onslaught, so the dreamier, romantic “Summertime Rolls” provides a welcome change of pace, though it too amplifies for a spell. “Mountain Song” brings back the aggression big time, then to double down on the funk, “Idiots Rule” sports a horn section courtesy of two guys from Fishbone and the Chili Peppers’ Flea playing a very accomplished trumpet. “Jane Says” is upgraded from the first album, given a boost with very melodic steel drums for percussion, and still remains catchy despite, again, two chords. “Thank You Boys” is a snappy goof that serves to close the album, but only on the vinyl. Both cassette and CD got a bonus in a remake of “Pigs In Zen” for another profane rant.

While this summation may not be as descriptive as we like, the music really does speak for itself. Nothing’s Shocking deftly straddled heavy metal and college alternative, making them a band to watch. And for a while, they were. All these years later it still sounds fresh, and free of the trappings of ‘80s production standards. Not bad for a bunch of kids and their older frontman.

Jane’s Addiction Nothing’s Shocking (1988)—4

Elton John 26: Live In Australia

Elton’s 1986 tour of Australia followed almost immediately on the world tour he’d started the year before, which was initially in support of Ice On Fire but went on to attempt to put some life into Leather Jackets. What was different about the leg down under was the approach: 26 performances were spread throughout five venues, and each featured his band in the first half, then Elton performed accompanied by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra while bedecked in powdered wig, beauty mark, and colonial costume a la Mozart.

Such an event was just screaming to be documented, and the following year a live album highlighting the orchestral portion appeared, alongside a home video with selections from both halves. In the US, the album was pointedly released on MCA, signaling that he too had had it with being on Geffen. (A few songs weren’t included, partially due to the then-limited capacity of a CD.)

From the start he sounds raspy; indeed he would have throat surgery immediately after the tour. But it’s an adventurous program, beginning with three deep cuts from his second, eponymous album. The grand spectacle of “Tonight” is followed by the more recognizable “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word” from the same album. “The King Must Die” goes back to the second album, and does the more rocking “Take Me To The Pilot”, and by now he’s really enjoying himself. The band nicely balances the orchestra on “Tiny Dancer”.

“Have Mercy On The Criminal” was one of Elton’s personal favorites, he says, specifically because of the original Paul Buckmaster arrangement, fleshed out here but still with plenty of space for Davey Johnstone to solo. “Madman Across The Water” has power but not enough menace for our taste, but the surprise hit single was “Candle In The Wind”, performed by Elton solo with some keyboard help (plus vintage Marilyn Monroe footage in the video). This would become the song’s go-to version for the next ten years. “Burn Down The Mission” gets a little derailed at the end with backing vocalists chanting “burn it down,” but “Your Song” is treated a little more respectfully. While “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting” was the standard closer, here it’s omitted and replaced by “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me”.

After the embarrassment that was Leather Jackets, Elton was back, so to speak. He’d insist he was never away, but Live In Australia was still a nice reminder of what he could do as well as what he had done, and managed to please long-suffering fans along with new converts.

Elton John Live In Australia With The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra (1987)—3

John Cale 8: Guts and The Island Years

By 1977 John Cale was the definition of a cult figure, but he was gaining notice as a daring live performer, whether beheading chickens or inspiring Jason Voorhees by wearing a hockey mask onstage. This was likely the reason why his label decided to release the Guts compilation. Put together by soon-to-be-legendary A&R man Howard Thompson, it focused on Cale’s more aggressive recordings. (The back cover also kindly listed every musician who had played on them.)

For collectors, it offered quite a bit. After opening with the “title track”, “Mary Lou” was a rockin’ outtake from Helen Of Troy, then three more songs are included from that non-U.S. album, including the suddenly rare “Leaving It All Up To You”. Side two is split between tracks from Fear (the title track being the most comparatively quiet part of the album, until its end, of course) and Slow Dazzle. All together it was listenable, and certainly very representative, if a little constricted.

Fast forward to 1996, when Cale was more respected as an elder statesman and an inductee into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame with the Velvet Underground. The Island label had already done a nice job anthologizing many of their artists, and while they could have reissued his albums individually with bonus tracks, they made the smart economic move to maximize disc length with The Island Years, which fit all three albums onto two CDs—although “The Jeweller” was shorter for some reason—fleshed out with outtakes and rarities in context. The lovely “Sylvia Said” is a remix of a B-side, and very much along the lines of the poppier songs on Vintage Violence and Paris 1919. So too are “All I Want Is You” and “Bamboo Floor”, which would have stuck out on Slow Dazzle. Ensuring “Leaving It All Up To You” stays in context, the edgy “You & Me” and “Mary Lou” bookend “Coral Moon”. All together, a very busy two years. (Rhino’s 1994 Seducing Down The Door compilation sampled the same period but within the context of the rest of his solo career, up to his 1990 collaborations with Lou Reed and Brian Eno, so this was certainly preferred.)

John Cale Guts (1977)—3
John Cale The Island Years (1996)—3

Queen 11: Greatest Hits

At the start of the ‘80s, Queen was still huge, the Flash Gordon soundtrack notwithstanding. As they had more than enough for a greatest hits album, their label went ahead and released not just one, but different sequences in different countries, depeding on what qualified. And here’s where it gets confusing.

In the US, side one began with “Another One Bites The Dust”, having been so huge here, before going back to “Bohemian Rhapsody”, which opened the set practically everywhere else. “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” brought it current again, then it was back to “Killer Queen”. “Fat Bottom Girls” and “Bicycle Race” are still in the wrong order to these ears, but the real draw was “Under Pressure”, the brand new (and stellar) collaboration with David Bowie. After the one-two punch of “We Will Rock You” and “We Are The Champions” starting side two, the single version of “Flash” doesn’t sell that album very well, but “Somebody To Love” and “You’re My Best Friend” are always welcome. The single version of “Keep Yourself Alive” is still a kicker, though “Play The Game” is still kinda underwhelming. The packaging was not elaborate but still nice, with custom labels and an inner sleeve that helpfully said what songs came from what albums.

Eleven years later, after Freddie had died, their American distribution changed, and Wayne’s World revived interest in the band, the label wanted a companion to the previous year’s Classic Queen, which mostly focused on the later years of the band but still included “Bohemian Rhapsody”, “Under Pressure”, and “Keep Yourself Alive”. So the updated Greatest Hits repeated and reshuffled the rest of the first one (save “Flash”) and included songs that were on the British version of the first hits album, such as “Don’t Stop Me Now”, “Save Me”, and “Now I’m Here”, but also threw in “Body Language” and “I Want To Break Free”. The older additions were welcome, but three songs stuck on the other album were missed. (New cover art underscored that this was not the original 1981 sequence.)

It wasn’t until 2004 that the original UK sequence was released in America, with three odd extras: “I’m In Love With My Car”, and two songs from that year’s release of their 1982 Hollywood Bowl concert of the album. But for those of us who loved that first US hits album, there’s always Spotify.

Queen Greatest Hits (1981)—4
Queen Greatest Hits (1992)—4
Current CD availability: none

Marshall Crenshaw 12: What’s In The Bag?

Even with the support of such an artist-centric label as Razor & Tie, Marshall Crenshaw wasn’t exactly prolific in the 21st century. The wonderfully titled acoustic live album I’ve Suffered For My Art… Now It’s Your Turn appeared in 2001, and another two years went by before he emerged with What’s In The Bag?

It’s off to a slow start with the lonesome waltz of “Will We Ever?”, followed by the subtle post-9/11 pondering in “Where Home Used To Be”. A straight cover of Prince’s “Take Me With U” features help from Mary Lee’s Corvette and picks up the pace, continued on the mildly galloping “From Now Until Then”. “Despite The Sun” is an elaborate one-man-band instrumental with a mildly cinematic swagger and some surprisingly screaming guitar. And despite its relatively low-key approach, “The Spell Is Broken” is classic Crenshaw.

He also plays most of “A Few Thousand Days Ago”, and he’s gotten either hold of a decent drum machine or just better at playing the real thing. “Long And Complicated” is only half-accurate, alternating between darker verses and sunnier choruses. The album’s other cover is Bootsy Collins’ oft-sampled “I’d Rather Be With You”, and he manages to pull it off, particularly when followed by the seduction of “Alone In A Room”. And “AKA A Big Heavy Hot Dog” is another snappy one-man instrumental with a melody we wish we could place that just ends.

There’s not a lot of jangle on What’s In The Bag?, and while it would be obvious to say he’d gotten older, that shouldn’t suggest he’d slowed down at all. He’s got excellent support from a rotating pool of musicians throughout—especially Greg Leisz on pedal steel—and it’s just as pleasant as anything else he’s done.

Marshall Crenshaw What’s In The Bag? (2003)—3

Grateful Dead 21: Without A Net

Modern technology caught up with the scope of the Grateful Dead at the height of their popularity, and their most recent tours provided plenty of content for Without A Net. Besides being the first of their live albums to go gold—being a double-CD, double-cassette, or triple-LP helped—it also served as a tribute to Brent Mydland, who had become the third of the band’s keyboard players to die, not two months before the album came out.

Because it was sequenced with the extended playing time of CDs in mind, most tracks stretch as easily as they would have on stage. With songs being allowed to last seven and, in some cases, over eleven minutes, the overall effect is of a laid-back, natural show, albeit edited seamlessly between almost as many shows as there were tracks. (Indeed, many of the original shows would be released in their entirety in the decades to come, as demonstrated below.)

In addition to the Dead in their element playing, if not necessarily hits, crowd favorites, there were a few tunes that hadn’t been on albums before, even if they were likely throughout collectors’ tapes. Robert Johnson’s “Walkin’ Blues” had been a relatively recent addition to their repertoire, after Bob Weir had done it on a solo acoustic tour with Rob Wasserman. “Looks Like Rain” had been a Dead staple since first appearing on Ace; “I Know You Rider” had been in their sets from the beginning, and often followed “China Cat Sunflower”, as it does here. A lengthy “Eyes Of The World” features Branford Marsalis on saxophone, a welcome difference from the some of the now-dated synthesizer sounds and MIDI effects elsewhere. “Victim Or The Crime” is more effective here than on Built To Last, and the “Franklin’s Tower” suite runs nineteen minutes before a crowd-pleasing “One More Saturday Night”. “Dear Mr. Fantasy” isn’t much to get excited about, except to showcase Brent; curiously, it fades before whatever it segued into originally. Throughout the over two hours of music, everything is mixed evenly and clearly.

Since the idea was to present an up-to-date representation of where the Dead had arrived at the end of the decade, Without A Net was successful, musically as well as commercially. And while it was good to incorporate longer songs, missing from the experience were the improvisational moments common to many shows, usually denoted as “Drums” and “Space” on most tapers’ cassette inserts. The band addressed this directly a year later with Infrared Roses, an hour-long collage consisting of four suites of three tracks each, selected and mixed by their sound guy and titled by Robert Hunter.

The program opens with “Crowd Sculpture”, putting the listener in the middle of the parking lot before a show. From there we’re plunged amid the drums, and jamming commences. Branford Marsalis appears again on “Apollo At The Ritz”, while “Silver Apples Of The Moon” is a duet between new official keyboardist Vince Welnick and common fixture Bruce Hornsby. It’s certainly for the initiated, even though the novice should recognize “Uncle John’s Band” at the start of the second suite, but as aural sculptures go, you could do worse. (Of course, this had nothing on 1994’s Grayfolded, a commissioned project that saw fragments of 25 years’ worth of live performances of “Dark Star” melded and overlaid over the course of 109 minutes on two CDs.)

Grateful Dead Without A Net (1990)—3
Grateful Dead Infrared Roses (1991)—3
     Archival releases of same vintage:
     • Dozin’ At The Knick (1996)
     • Terrapin Station (Limited Edition) (1997)
     • Nightfall Of Diamonds (2001)
     • Formerly The Warlocks (2010)
     • Spring 1990 (2012)
     • Spring 1990: So Glad You Made It (2012)
     • Spring 1990: The Other One (2014)
     • Wake Up To Find Out (2014)