Brian Eno 31: Eno Soundtrack

Look at streaming services like Amazon Prime, and you’ll see a handful of documentaries about Brian Eno, some more quickie than others. Yet the only one that had his active participation can’t be found online. What’s more, there’s a chance that if you have seen it—and we haven’t—you won’t be seeing the same production that was screened somewhere or some time else. In a direct reflection of its subject’s aim when creating art, Eno uses generative software so that every showing has a unique, almost random sequence.

Luckily its companion soundtrack compilation does have a standard tracklist. It begins with “All I Remember”, a new song with vocals and introspective lyrics. From there it cherry-picks from throughout his career, split between vocal and instrumental, loud and quiet, with an emphasis on collaborations with the likes of Cluster, David Byrne, John Cale, and up to Fred again… These, however, only scratch the surface, both of the people he’s worked with as well as the music he’s release over fifty years.

Rare tracks don’t appear again until the end of the program. The noisy, clattering “Lighthouse #349” is one of hundreds of instrumental tracks uploaded to his Sonos radio station from his vaults, Finally, “By This River” comes from a live performance in 2018 with his brother Roger at the Acropolis in Athens, and it is simply stunning.

Brian Eno Eno (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) (2024)—3

Elton John 28: Reg Strikes Back

The comeback started with the live album continued for Elton John, but he wouldn’t call it that. Rather, the title of Reg Strikes Back suggested a pugnacity along the lines of “I’m Still Standing”, and to prove he was serious, the album cover showed several closets full of old costumes and hats, which were presumably among the items soon to be auctioned for charity. Musically it wasn’t much of a departure; Bernie Taupin was on board and Davey Johnstone was still in the band, but Dee Murray and Nigel Olsson were only asked to provide backing vocals.

The arrangement of “Town Of Plenty” proves what part of what decades we’re in, and the mix—with the aforementioned backing vocals up front—obscures the social commentary in the lyrics. (News flash: Elton doesn’t like “the media”.) Then “A Word In Spanish” saunters in reminiscent of “Nikita”; it’s a nice idea, bringing in Bernie’s fascination with movies and romance, but Elton belts out the lyrics where a softer approach would have been more effective. Speaking of throwbacks, “Mona Lisas And Mad Hatters (Part Two)” is a sequel nobody asked for. While its predecessor eloquently celebrates New York City and the vulnerability one can feel there with a tender backing to match, this one gushes over just how awesome it is, presumably for those who can afford it and aren’t worried about getting mugged, atop a brassy R&B track with Freddie Hubbard taking a trumpet solo. But while “I Don’t Wanna Go On With You Like That” is a lot like what we’ve heard so far, it works, even with the limited range of the melody and mildly robotic beat. “Japanese Hands” finds Bernie in love again, but this time on another continent, and with a softer approach and not too heavy on the clichéd Oriental accents.

As with side one, side two also starts with a kiss-off. “Goodbye Marlon Brando” is mostly a list turned into a lyric, fleshed out in the bridges, but it also mostly expands on an idea already started by Tom Petty and Bob Dylan a year before on “Jammin’ Me”. “The Camera Never Lies” is an improvement, a meaty performance and catchy changes throughout, following an accusatory tale. Davey gets credit for helping out with “Heavy Traffic”, a character-heavy study of vice that burbles along over something of a salsa beat that stops and starts with odd frequency. The judgement continues on “Poor Cow”, which unfortunately uses that term as a hook in the chorus, at odds with the disdainful verses. While it makes for a nice finale, “Since God Invented Girls” just seems odd coming out his mouth, even if he was still technically married to his wife. It’s not the first reference to the Beach Boys on the album, underscored by Carl Wilson and Bruce Johnston actually providing harmonies, but it needs a better hook, which starts with the title.

Reg Strikes Back was something of a hit, as he’d intended, and certainly brought him back to a point where he was consistently on the radio—as well as VH-1 if not MTV. In contemporary interviews he boasted about all the piano playing he’d done compared to his recent output, but it still sounds too much of its time. (The expanded reissue added the B-side “Rope Around A Fool”, which could easily have replaced one of the lesser tracks on the album, plus a remix of “Mona Lisas Part Two” and two of “I Don’t Wanna Go On With You Like That”, one of which was labeled “Just Elton And His Piano”, but like the rest of the album, it’s still a digital piano instead of a grand.)

Elton John Reg Strikes Back (1988)—2½
1998 CD reissue: same as 1988, plus 4 extra tracks

Beatles 35: Anthology 4

Realizing that 30 years had passed since the first installment of the Beatles’ Anthology was unveiled was even more astounding when one considered that only 25 years had elapsed between that event and the band’s breakup. And while the Anthology CDs were said to close the vault on unreleased material, the people in charge of things back then obviously hadn’t dreamed of the potential, either sales or academic, that 50th anniversary super deluxe editions could create.

So it was that the original series was remastered and re-edited for broadcast on Disney+, the book was reprinted, and the three CD volumes were remastered, sonically cleaned up in a few places, and repackaged into a slipcase dubbed Anthology Collection, with the tantalizing addition of the new Anthology 4. Fans wondered at the fresh bounty that could be unveiled, only to find not Gideon’s bible, but that the new set—initially only available in the big set but eventually offered separately—consisted predominantly of selections from those recent expansions of Sgt. Pepper, the White Album, Abbey Road, Let It Be, and Revolver. Besides the repetition, the choices were somewhat lopsided, with only eleven new tracks coming from the first three years of their career, and almost the entirety of the second disc devoted to the last two. And of course, certain things that people wanted to hear were still missing, even with two discs not filled to capacity.

That said, as a collection of outtakes, it is an enjoyable listen, even when you’ve heard some of it before. The alternate takes of “I Saw Her Standing There” and “Money” were pulled from the (also initially limited) Bootleg Recordings 1963 download album, and two broken takes of “This Boy” were rescued from the out-of-print CD single for “Free As A Bird”. Each of the yet-to-be-deluxe-editioned albums get peeks; as ever, the early takes aren’t always too different from the final products, but it’s fun to hear the boys bantering along the way. There’s a lot of giggling between takes, and the source of the laughter isn’t always obvious, nor necessarily pharmaceutical. Take one of “Matchbox” wouldn’t have been our choice, but the first take of “In My Life” is lovely, and a very Byrdsy “Nowhere Man” only has vocals on the intro. “Baby You’re A Rich Man” is delayed while John asks Mal Evans for Coke and Paul demands cannabis, the instrumental tracks for “Fool On The Hill” and “Hey Bulldog” are revelatory, and the isolated strings and brass for “I Am The Walrus” prove that George Martin was the best friend they ever had. Finally, new Jeff Lynne-approved remixes of “Free As A Bird” and “Real Love” (which clean up John’s voice more via Peter Jackson’s AI tech, but aren’t as good as the ones on 2015’s 1+ DVD), followed by “Now And Then” (which most people would have already bought via either the expensive single or the expansion of the Blue Album two years earlier) bring things full-circle.

With the equivalent of two album sides of new music out of a nearly two-hour program, there is enough here that we hadn’t heard before, as it hadn’t been bootlegged. Having to follow the format of the previous three volumes put the compilers in a tough spot, as reissue projects have certainly evolved over three decades. Here, it’s quite a mad rush from “I Saw Her Standing There” to “I Am The Walrus”, and something of a stumble to the end. But while Anthology 4 is very much an afterthought, it’s still welcome. And we still want to hear everything, and we do mean everything.

The Beatles Anthology 4 (2025)—3½

Ringo Starr 11: Starr Struck

In 1989 Ringo Starr emerged clean and sober, and ready to launch his first of countless All-Starr Band tours. This was a complete nostalgia trip, as there was no new album to promote. However, the Rhino label was still honing their licensing skills, and managed to cobble a compilation from his post-Apple work. Not only had this stuff been out of print for a while, but it included tracks from Old Wave, making their first appearance in the U.S. They even used the original cover design for Can’t Fight Lightning. Although Starr Struck (clever title, that) didn’t have many hit singles to collect, the compilers wisely made sure to include songs that had input from the other Beatles. (The CD version added four more tracks throughout the program, including a fourth selection from Old Wave.)

“Wrack My Brain” is an excellent way to start, and “In My Car” didn’t sound that dated yet, but “Cookin’ (In The Kitchen Of Love)” still might be the dumbest song John Lennon ever gave anyone. That where the album starts to sag quality-wise, though they do try to keep things upbeat through “I Keep Forgettin’” (which should have been at least a minute shorter), “Hard Times”, and “Hey Baby”. While here it comes before “A Dose Of Rock ‘N Roll”, which has it as a tag, and starts side two, it’s still an odd sequence. (The CD at least had McCartney’s “Attention” in between them.) “Private Property” completes the Fab trifecta, and “Can She Do It Like She Dances” is even more obnoxious here. “Heart On My Sleeve”, “Sure To Fall”, and “She’s About A Mover” are fine, but don’t establish Ringo as a master interpreter.

There weren’t any hype-heavy liner notes, except for the detailed recording information for each track that we expect from Rhino. Since some of the participants were also on tour with Ringo that summer, Starr Struck was a nice tie-in. But it didn’t make the music any better. Once his albums started appearing on CD and he (presumably) retained the rights, Starr Struck went out of print, and eventually the three arguably best songs—“Wrack My Brain”, “A Dose Of Rock ‘N Roll”, and “Hey Baby”—were deservedly included on 2007’s more encompassing Photograph compilation.

Ringo Starr Starr Struck: Best Of Ringo Starr, Vol. 2 (1989)—2½
Current CD availability: none

Paul McCartney 39: Wings

Roughly a quarter-century after the last time he undertook a look back to the band he and Linda formed after the Beatles broke up, Paul McCartney presided over a biography of Wings, tied in with a feature-length film. While this would have been the perfect occasion to finally issue the overdue Archive Collection editions and expansions of London Town and Back To The Egg, he decided people would want a double-disc anthology of previously released Wings music instead. Those who bought the Blu-ray version would have likely done so for the Atmos mixes, but beyond that, Wings is another Spotify playlist in a physical format. (A pointless single disc with a dozen songs was also offered.)

For the first time, unlike Wings Greatest and Wingspan, nothing credited to Paul outside of Wings was included. It does repeat songs already collected on those, as well as All The Best! and Pure McCartney, which means all the hits and a few deep cuts from every Wings album—even the bad ones—with the only rarity being the runthrough of “Soily” from One Hand Clapping, chosen over the frankly phenomenal one from Wings Over America. In fact, none of the live work by any incarnation of the band is included. A few songs make their first remastered appearance in this century, like Denny Laine’s showcase “Deliver Your Children”, “I’ve Had Enough” and the title track from London Town, and “Getting Closer” from Back To The Egg. Those sport a copyright date of 2022, suggesting that just maybe those albums are just waiting for someone to give the okay already?

As an overview of the band, and what he hoped to achieve by forming it and sticking with it until it served its purpose, Wings works. There was some excellent music created over those nine or so years, and other people besides McCartney helped make it memorable. If new fans get to hear it and learn from it, that’s great. But for the rest of us, this was yet another missed opportunity to provide some real gems, instead of more of the same.

Wings Wings (2025)—3½

Marshall Crenshaw 14: The EP Collection

Like a lot of artists of his generation, Marshall Crenshaw saw the writing on the wall—or lack of it—in the second decade of the new century, and decided his music would be served best going directly to his fan base. So in 2012, he launched what would become an ongoing series of 10-inch vinyl EPs, crowdsourced and sold via his website. Each consisted of a new song serving as the title track, a cover, and a unique version of something in his catalog, either rerecorded or live.

Six EPs were released over a four-year period, which didn’t suggest prolific creativity, and there’s something of a darkness pervading the new songs. “I Don’t See You Laughing Now” sounds like the vocal’s been AutoTuned, but it’s got one catchy chorus. A highlight is “Stranger And Stranger”, which sports a prominent vibraphone that eventually blends with the rest of the backing. The moody “Driving And Dreaming” is very evocative of a late-night ride; like the rest of the originals, it was written with alt-folkie Dan Bern, with whom he worked on the Walk Hard soundtrack. “Red Wine” is the most developed track, with a full band arrangement and accordion. While it seems to be based on simple if forced rhymes, the undertones of “Move Now” are extremely dark, particularly in the current political situation. “Grab The Next Train” has similar forebodings, but seems to be more focused on a failed relationship.

The remakes weren’t all that radical, but the guy loved making records, so his covers have plenty of feeling. His voice is an improvement on Jeff Lynne’s on the Move’s “No Time”, while still retaining the psychedelic elements, just as “(They Long To Be) Close To You” is straight and sweet, right down to the horn solo. The Coral sitars he adds to James McMurtry’s “Right Here Now” are an unexpected touch, but then his heart is definitely in the ‘60s, as demonstrated by “Never To Be Forgotten” by the Bobby Fuller Four, John Sebastian’s “Didn’t Wanna Have To Do It” for the Lovin’ Spoonful, and “Made My Bed, Gonna Lie In It”, a great hidden gem by the Easybeats.

Once the series was done, much of the music was made available on a wider scale. #392: The EP Collection collected each of the new songs (sequenced in reverse release order) followed by the covers, with bonus tracks: a live version of the Everly Brothers’ “Man With Money” and a demo of “Front Page News”. (At some point, the individual EPs were downloadable from Amazon and iTunes, usually offering another live track, making things even more confusing for completists.)

Ten years later, thanks to a new deal with Yep Roc, he took the opportunity to remix and rerelease the music. This time, From The Hellhole shuffled the contents of the previous version for a more diverse program. However, it dropped “Right Here Now” and the previous bonus tracks, and instead added a 1991 demo of “Walkin’ Around” and covers of Rare Earth’s “I Just Want To Celebrate” and Todd Rundgren’s “Couldn’t I Just Tell You”, a song that was basically made for him. Still, as a summation of the relatively little music he’s been creating, it’s good to have.

Marshall Crenshaw #392: The EP Collection (2015)—3
Marshall Crenshaw From The Hellhole (2025)—3

Bob Dylan 70: Through The Open Window

After several volumes delving into distinct stages of Bob Dylan’s career, it took the Bootleg Series fifteen years and nine volumes before they went back to the beginning. Through The Open Window aims to tell the definitive story of his origin only touched on by his first three albums (and subsequent archival releases).

The years stated on the cover span 1956 through 1963, but after a 15-year-old Bobby Zimmerman pounding Shirley & Lee’s “Let The Good Times Roll” on a St. Paul music store piano and an acoustic ditty called “I Got A New Girl” three years later, the program really begins in 1960, where a college slacker has discovered Woody Guthrie. Before the end of the first disc he’s already made it to the Gaslight Café and Gerde’s Folk City in Greenwich Village. He enters a recording studio to blow harmonica on a Carolyn Hester session, plays a concert above Carnegie Hall, and two months later records his first album over two days. (Two familiar outtakes are included, along with two alternates, and a previously unreleased cover of Woody’s “Ramblin’ Round”.)

All the while, he’s learning how to pick guitar and play harmonica at the same time, memorizing song lyrics and attempting to write his own, and fabricating his own back story, as alluded to in the baffling “Dusty Old Fairgrounds”. Many of the selections are informal recordings, included more for historical purposes, far away from studio microphones and settings, so there are flubbed strings, off-key instruments, and the sound of a 20-year-old kid trying to sound four times his age (save a salacious ad-lib in a version of “Cocaine”; the compilers chose not to include any of the VD songs Woody wrote). When an audience is present, they are fascinated, and collaborators like Jim Kweskin and Dave Van Ronk clearly like what he has to offer. And we get to hear him improve and develop in a fairly short time.

By the third disc he’s moved on from aping Woody on vintage folk and blues songs, and started writing more topical songs about social injustice. After more harmonica work for Harry Belafonte, Victoria Spivey, and Big Joe Williams, he starts to record his second album. But it takes a while to complete, as he can’t decide whether it should be all protest songs (like the earlier, edgier “Ballad Of Hollis Brown”) or if he wants to rock out, which is why he attempts the familiar “That’s All Right Mama” and his own “Mixed-Up Confusion” with a band, eventually settle for just Bruce Langhorne on second guitar. “Worried Blues” is tried out on a 12-string, and “(I Heard That) Lonesome Whistle” shows off his Hank Williams yodel.

Come 1963, the surviving minute of his appearance on a British TV show kicks off disc five. After his April show at the Town Hall show—about a third of which is here, out of order, and including repeats of “Tomorrow Is A Long Time” and “Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie”—he comes up with the last handful of songs, a fresh mix of protest and personal, needed to finish the Freewheelin’ album. But by the summer, he was caught up in the civil rights movement, with appearances at voter rallies and the March on Washington, and made a big splash at the Newport Folk Festival. He also made a big splash with Joan Baez, who sang with him every chance she got; three of their duets are included here, including the only known performance of “Troubled And I Don’t Know Why”.

Angrier topical songs would dominate his third album, though he was also writing songs like “Farewell”, “Liverpool Gal”, “Boots Of Spanish Leather”, and “One Too Many Mornings” (the latter two heard in alternate takes) and banging the piano for “Key To The Highway” and “Bob Dylan’s New Orleans Rag”. The final two discs contain his complete Carnegie Hall concert in October 1963, twenty years after it was first teased on a promo CD. It’s a good place to finish, as that third album would come out in the first few weeks of 1964, when everything changed, and for him too. Most of the songs in the set weren’t on albums yet, so they’re fresh for the crowd, but the performance would only reinforce his image as a protest singer and nothing but.

Some of this music had circulated on bootlegs for decades, but never in this quality. Through The Open Window of course only scratches the surface of what has survived from this period, and the individual listener will have their own missing favorites (for us it’s “Black Cross” and the electric “Rocks And Gravel”) in addition to resentment over repetition, both in song choice and things that had already appeared on earlier volumes and copyright releases. As had been the label’s habit, a two-CD “highlights” condensation was also made available, but we always wonder who would actually spring for those outside of completists. With most Bob, you’re either all in, or out.

Bob Dylan Through The Open Window: The Bootleg Series Vol. 18 1956-1963 (2025)—3