John Cale 7: Helen Of Troy

The cover of Helen Of Troy depicts John Cale in a straightjacket, over a pair of leather pants and stylish shoes with clashing socks. It’s a good setup for the music within, mostly right in line with his last two albums, with contributions from Chris Spedding and Brian Eno. String and choral arrangements by Robert Kirby, now best known for his work with Nick Drake, add color.

One adjective that applies to this album is menacing, right from the opening “My Maria”. Between the keyboards, guitar, and choir, the arrangement recalls Lou Reed’s “Lady Day”, but it’s even more impressionistic and impenetrable yet haunting somehow. The title track is punctuated by mincing, campy commentary from one Alan Courtney, synth blasts that sound very much like Roxy Music saxes but aren’t, and Enossification resembling an outer-space bowling alley. The much sunnier “China Sea” is as jaunty as anything on Paris 1919, complete with Beach Boy harmonies and other Wilsonian touches. A compact portrait of insanity, “Engine” begins with just piano and his voice, which gets increasingly unhinged after the band kicks in. Soon he’s pounding keys with his fists and shrieking until everything just stops. “Save Us” seems to be a prayer for salvation, and he manages to keep things in check despite the desperate tone. Following the template set on “Fear Is A Man’s Best Friend”, his voice goes from weary to histrionic within the space of a verse and chorus throughout this album, and certainly on “Cable Hogue”, presumably inspired by the recent Sam Peckinpah film.

But he could also be tender, as demonstrated on the positively torchy “I Keep A Close Watch”, the loveliest thing he’s ever written, and a love song to boot worthy of Sinatra. The sentimental mood doesn’t last for “Pablo Picasso”, the Jonathan Richman classic originally produced by Cale but unreleased at the time of this cover. “Leaving It Up To You” is mostly straightforward, but he gets very worked up in the middle, going to far as to reference Sharon Tate, which caused the song to be pulled from some pressings. (The much more placid “Coral Moon” was the replacement.) Jimmy Reed’s “Baby, What You Want Me To Do” is also played straight rock as opposed to blues, though without the shuffle it tends to drag. So it is that “Sudden Death” fits the same slot as “Ghost Story” and other “nightmare” songs, but in this context it’s no more scary than anything else, just morbid.

Cale maintains that Helen Of Troy was unfinished, and rushed out by the label before he had time to perfect it. Considering how ornate the tracks are, it’s hard to imagine what was missing; could be he didn’t intend there to be so much reverb anywhere. Even so, it wasn’t officially released in the U.S. for decades, which he may or may not have appreciated.

John Cale Helen Of Troy (1975)—3

Jimi Hendrix 30: Electric Lady Studios

Along with trying to complete a fourth studio album, Jimi Hendrix was consumed with designing and opening a recording studio to his specifications, beck, and call. Once Electric Lady Studios opened in the early summer of 1970, he got to recording with Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell in between live gigs. Designed to accompany the documentary of the same name, Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision presents three discs’ worth of alternate takes and mixes from the last four months or so of his life, in somewhat chronological recording order, with some shuffling here and there to prevent redundancy, which happens anyway.

Some of this had been out before in alternate mixes, or overdubbed after his death. On a lot of the earliest tracks here, it’s just Jimi, Billy, and Mitch working through the arrangements, live to tape, so we get to hear the bare bones of the songs before they were layered with vocals and other embellishments. The first albeit instrumental take of “Belly Button Window” is interesting as it includes bass and drums. There’s a brief stab at “Further On Up The Road”, followed by a seamless 26-minute exploration of “Astro Man”, “Beginnings”, “Hey Baby (New Rising Sun)”, “Midnight Lightning”, and “Freedom”; the rhythm section stays with him at every turn. A full band take of “Midnight Lightning” eventually goes into “Beginnings”, a galloping “Bolero” opens the familiar take of “Hey Baby”, and we can trace the development of “In From The Storm” from two early takes titled “Tune X/Just Came In”. One wonders what might have become of “Valleys Of Neptune” had he had the chance to develop it further—one of the takes is just him, Steve Winwood, and a rhythm machine—and he sure seemed fond of “Drifter’s Escape”. “Heaven Has No Sorrow” is just a demo with bass, and somehow there were 17 takes of something called “Messing Around” (only the last is included). A few posthumous mixes end the set; “Drifting” and “Room Full Of Mirrors” are okay, but “Angel” is way too awash in phasing and other obtrusive effects.

Focusing as it does on a distinct period, Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision is still less disjointed than the previous three collections of outtakes. But because of its breadth, this is designed for Hendrix scholars, particularly those still not convinced that either The Cry Of Love or First Rays Of The New Rising Sun present anything approximating his final vision. (A 5.1 mix of the latter album, with previously released takes of “Pali Gap”, “Lover Man”, and “Valleys Of Neptune” as bonus tracks inserted into an alternate sequence, is included along with the documentary on a Blu-ray packaged with the box.) Clearly he was teeming with ideas, and it’s always going to be a shame that he didn’t get to see them through himself.

Jimi Hendrix Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision (2024)—3

Neil Finn 8: Lightsleeper

Liam Finn had been appearing on father Neil’s albums since the start of the 21st century, but Lightsleeper was their first officially billed collaboration. All but two tracks are co-written by the pair, who also layer vocals and instruments all over the place for a lush, sonic smorgasbord.

A techno dreamscape explodes into a lush chorale on “Prelude–Island Of Peace”, which then flows into the dreamy “Meet Me In The Air”. “Where’s My Room” goes a lot of places, from Revolution-era Prince funk to Philly soul strings over seven minutes, with several drums competing throughout with a programmed beat. Liam’s “Anger Plays A Part” is more straightforward but sounding very much like his dad, and Neil’s “Listen” is very much in the introspective mood of his solo albums. Despite its spacey atmosphere, “Any Other Way” exudes hope from a low point.

“Back To Life” is another expression of devotion, even after taking a detour through a Greek café. “Hiding Place” is very lush and dreamy, but little quirks in the background threaten to make any dreams less sweet, particularly after the halfway mark when competing voices add to the confusion. In a smart case of sequencing, “Ghosts” seems to be a reaction to those unsettling dreams. “We Know What It Means” is a celebration of family, remembering the early days of kids on the tour bus, and now extended to another generation, though we could do without the CB radio effects. “Hold Her Close” is very much like a lullaby, to ease nodding heads and send us gently away.

While the sounds may not keep Lightsleeper in the background, it’s very much worth revisiting. It’s very much a Finn family production, as Sharon and Elroy show up, as well as brother Tim’s daughters. But one of the more surprising contributors is Mick Fleetwood, which is timely, as shortly after the album’s release, Neil (along with Mike Campbell, suddenly with free time following the death of Tom Petty) replaced Lindsay Buckingham on a major Fleetwood Mac tour.

Neil & Liam Finn Lightsleeper (2018)—3

Neil Young 72: Archives Vol. III

At least it only took the Neil Young Archives team a little under four years after the release of the second box to put out the third. Perhaps in an attempt to dwarf quality with quantity, Archives Vol. III covered the widest period yet—eleven years—on 17 CDs, with five Blu-ray discs containing eleven films in the deluxe edition. Granted, that means the ten or so albums released in that period are represented here, and usually liberally, with more of an emphasis on the first recorded and/or performed versions of songs among the previously unreleased selections. Also, various “raps” pop up on the discs, these being more or less contemporary snippets of Neil explaining things to put the recordings in context. As the other two boxes didn’t have these, they’re unnecessary. (Also, the customary book of photos and credits doesn’t include a tape log, a maddening exclusion to us curmudgeonly chroniclers, and the page numbers are pretty screwy.)

The first two discs are collectively titled Across The Water (also one of the Blu-ray offerings), and basically expand on the Odeon Budokan disc of the second box, even overlapping chronologically with it and including alternate mixes of two of its tracks. There’s some repetition of songs already available in excellent takes on Songs For Judy, but we are assured that these are different performances. The acoustic tunes aren’t any great improvements over other versions, but when Crazy Horse plugs in, we get unique runs at “Country Home”, “The Losing End”, a sloppy “Homegrown”, and a lengthy “Southern Man”. We also get two versions of “Cortez The Killer”, for no apparent reason other than that they were recorded 20 days and two continents apart.

The other boxes were criticized for including previously released Archives titles, such as Fillmore East and Homegrown, because people don’t like buying things twice. This set sidesteps that thorny issue, sort of, by combining selections from Hitchhiker and Songs For Judy on a disc called—what else?—Hitchhikin’ Judy. His two songs from the Band’s Last Waltz show plus “Will To Love” (the album version, not the unadorned original) and “Lost In Space” on piano—with Ron Wood on acoustic guitar—round out the disc. (While selections do appear throughout the box, the Chrome Dreams album is not duplicated as one of the discs either.)

After the alternate take of “Hold Back The Tears”, Snapshot In Time presents portions of a cassette recorded at Linda Ronstadt’s kitchen table, going through some mostly unreleased songs while she and Nicolette Larson extemporaneously harmonize. Some of these would be recorded for American Stars ‘N Bars and Comes A Time; one of the more interesting moments is when “Peace Of Mind” segues into “Sweet Lara Larue”, an update of “Come Along And Say You Will”. The standard “Hey Babe” precedes—finally—the first official release of “Barefoot Floors”, which was a glaring omission in Vol. II. If we are to take the preceding rap at his word, it’s a recording of them listening to the song in a car.

Windward Passage is a 35-minute condensation of the official Ducks bootleg, plus unique versions of “Sail Away” and “Cryin’ Eyes”. We get some of the other guys’ tunes as well as Neil’s, so the selection is very curious. And brief. Did this really need its own dedicated disc? Well, he warned us.

Accepted Neil lore is that he recorded an album of mostly solo acoustic songs to be called Oceanside Countryside, to which the label execs suggested he add more instrumentation. Rather than be offended, he did exactly that, resulting in what would be eventually released as Comes A Time. Because there is no documentation otherwise in the box, it’s therefore implied that the Oceanside Countryside disc presents that unreleased first draft verbatim, which is curious, as it’s sequenced in strict recorded order, unlike Homegrown and Chrome Dreams. (Neil has since confirmed the official planned running order included eight of the songs on this disc, plus the older “Captain Kennedy” and “The Old Homestead”, and not chronologically.) At any rate, there are some nice stripped-back mixes of Comes A Time songs, plus the familiar “Pocahontas” and “Lost In Space”, unreleased takes of “It Might Have Been” and “Dance Dance Dance”, a rightfully rejected “Comes A Time”, and a mix of “Peace Of Mind” with a lost verse.

The sessions to complete Comes A Time—which also included outtakes of “We’re Having Some Fun Now”, an unreleased version of “Love/Art Blues”, and a cover of the oldie “Please Help Me, I’m Falling”—bookend a one-off benefit performance performed by Neil with Nicolette, the session players, and the Gone With The Wind Orchestra. That show is not in the box, but the rehearsal for it makes up the bulk of the Union Hall disc. It’s a mix of old and new songs, including a pointed medley of “Dance Dance Dance” and “Love Is A Rose”, a strings-laden “Alabama” with a “Sweet Home Alabama” tag, and the mega-rare “Lady Wingshot”.

The double-disc Boarding House presents recordings for what would become side one of Rust Never Sleeps. The alternates aren’t better than what he chose to release then, but it’s a striking acoustic journey, with the first versions of “Shots” and “The Ways Of Love”, and “Out Of My Mind” on piano is particularly striking. There is some sloppy editing; his announcement of “Sugar Mountain” appears about seven songs before he plays it, and he talks about going “way back” in time before a splice into “Comes A Time”, which wouldn’t be out for another five months. Meanwhile, in the middle of the shows he spent an afternoon jamming with Devo, recording the odd version of “Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black)”, sung by Booji Boy, used in the Human Highway movie (also included on the Blu-rays), and which opens the second disc. Why not push the Devo track onto the next, still short disc so Boarding House could stay under 80 minutes and fit onto one?

Instead, the 49-minute Sedan Delivery disc begins with a studio take of “Bright Sunny Day” with Crazy Horse, but the rest consists of side two of Rust Never Sleeps assorted with tracks from Live Rust, rather than any alternate performances or song selections. (For one, “Come On Baby Let’s Go Downtown” was played every night, and not included here. That said, both the new Boarding House film and a restored Rust Never Sleeps film are included on the Blu-rays.)

Once we get into the ‘80s, the discs focus on contrasts. Coastline offers side two of Hawks & Doves, plus the “Winter Winds” outtake, then a smattering from Re-ac-tor. There’s no “T-Bone”—at 38 minutes, there’s room on the disc—but we do get an early “Sunny Inside” (why didn’t he play this with when he toured with Booker T and the MG’s?) and the otherwise unheard “Get Up”, an odd-metered tune that predicts the next album.

After the Vocoder tracks recorded alone and with Crazy Horse, Trans/Johnny’s Island offers more songs by the band initially dubbed Royal Pineapples but eventually just called The Trans Band, eschewing most of the ones they did for the album for unreleased songs and versions. The influence of Hawaii is more prominent, or maybe that’s just the constant congas and pedal steel. “If You Got Love”, left off Trans at the last minute, is included, and we weren’t missing much, though “Soul Of A Woman” stomps live and “Love Hotel”—played exactly once—finally gets an airing. The early version of “Silver & Gold” is nice, but it wouldn’t be captured correctly for another 15 or so years. In hindsight, these songs would have meshed well with CSN’s of that era. (This era gets a lot of coverage in the Blu-rays: the Berlin and Solo Trans concert films, and a new animated film by Micah Nelson, once of Promise Of The Real and occasionally Crazy Horse, to accompany the Trans Vocoder tracks.)

Evolution tackles the first Old Ways sessions and Everybody’s Rockin’ detour, beginning with live “gitjo” performances of “California Sunset” and “My Boy”. Back on his own, he used the Synclavier and drum machines for early versions of “I Got A Problem”, “Hard Luck Stories”, and “Razor Love”, the latter of which also wouldn’t be recorded right for another 15 years. “Your Love” isn’t bad, mostly because it’s simple and not attempting to sound too modern, and there’s another stab at “If You Got Love” that’s not awful.

Around the time that Geffen sued him for making records that didn’t sound like Neil Young, he hooked up briefly with Crazy Horse to play four sets at their usual haunt, the Catalyst in Santa Cruz. Touch The Night presents most of the last show, which features songs that would emerge without the Horse on Landing On Water (including the 11-minute “title track”), another “Your Love”, the unreleased piledrivers “Rock” and “So Tired”, plus “Barstool Blues” and “Welfare Mothers” to please the crowd. (The sound is muddy as befits a cassette source; the video feed is on one of the Blu-rays as Catalyst.)

But then he was back to playing country music with a vengeance and the International Harvesters, which is the focus of Grey Riders. This era was already well-covered on A Treasure; in addition to seven songs from that set, there are a few alternate versions, like a rockin’, rearranged “Misfits” (now subtitled “Dakota”, and performed with a brief detour called Crazy Harvesters), plus an early “This Old House”, “Time Off For Good Behavior”, and finally “Interstate”, but not the previously bootlegged version. (It should be noted that not a single track is duplicated from the official Old Ways, which says something about Neil’s own estimation of it. Also, the video content on the now-rare Blu-ray version of A Treasure is included on the Blu-rays.)

Road Of Plenty recycles six tracks from Landing On Water, then continues with three rarities from the Rusted Out Garage tour. The “title track” is an early version of what would become “Eldorado”, and the first recorded performances of “We Never Danced” (a studio track on Life) and “When Your Lonely Heart Breaks” are mostly of historic interest. (Oddly, nothing from Life is included anywhere among the CDs, despite there being plenty of room, but the In A Rusted-Out Garage pay-per-view concert film as well as the rarer Muddy Track documentary are among the Blu-ray offerings.)

The final CD in the box is devoted to Summer Songs, an eight-song demo recorded in 1987 and forgotten for decades, then uploaded to the Archives site for streaming on Christmas Day in 2021 in a different order than presented here. Beginning with a superior “American Dream” he runs through songs that would end up on three future albums. “Someday” and “Wrecking Ball” have slightly different lyrics, and “Hangin’ On A Limb” could well be the unadorned track we already know. “For The Love Of Man” wouldn’t make an album for a quarter-century, while “Last Of His Kind” would be played live that year and thereafter saved mostly for Farm Aid appearances. At 38 minutes it’s another short disc, but apparently that was all he had in the tank that day. (We recommend inserting “This Old House” and “Feel Your Love” into the sequence to fill it out.)

Were we in charge of things—and obviously we’re not, despite having repeatedly offering our proofreading and organizing skills—Vol. II would have ended in 1978, but that would have stretched that set to 20 discs (not counting Blu-rays). But then, arguably, what was left wouldn’t have been as strong or exciting. At the very least, the Across The Water discs could have been in there, in place of Odeon Budokan, which would then be saved as the standalone Special Release Series volume it became anyway, and with a better cover. Hitchhiker and Songs For Judy would have sat between the boxes alongside Chrome Dreams, shaving the first three discs out of this one. (There is plenty of room in Vol. II for the last four songs on the Hitchhikin’ Judy disc, which would have brought that box neatly to the end of 1976.) What’s more, plenty is left out, particularly from the International Harvesters era (“Leaving The Top 40 Behind”, “Silver & Gold”, “Beautiful Bluebird”, “Your Love Again”). And still no “Evening Coconut”?

The fact of the matter is that the 14 hours of music in Archives Vol. III runs the gamut from the sublime to the ridiculous, as his journey was affected by changes in the industry as well as with technology and his personal life. As it is, it’s a daunting collection of music that at least follows his original stated intention of releasing everything, good and bad. And hearing things in context does fill out the picture in ways that the albums as originally released couldn’t. But we didn’t expect to be blown away to the extent we were with the first two boxes, and we weren’t.

Neil Young Archives Vol. III: 1976-1987 (2024)—3

Ringo Starr 8: Bad Boy

In America, Ringo Starr was on a new record label, but they offered him a tie-in TV special, so maybe that was why barely seven months had passed before another album followed. Vini Poncia was in charge, and each band member was credited under pseudonyms, despite including Dr. John, Jimmy Webb, and Dee Murray from Elton John’s band. Beyond that, Bad Boy did not sport superstar input, nor did it sell. Nor was it very good.

Most of the album was recycled songs other people had already recorded, though “Who Needs A Heart” was one of two tunes written by Ringo and Vini. It’s fairly generic, but if Ringo had an established sound, this is it. The title track is not a cover of the Beatles cover, but another sad-sack lament of even earlier vintage, sunk further by Ringo’s insistence on singing “boy-yoy-yoy-yoy-yoy-yoy” every time. “Lipstick Traces (On A Cigarette)” is best known for being the A-side of “Fortune Teller”, both written by Allen Toussaint for Benny Spellman. “Heart On My Sleeve” was contributed by popular songwriting team of Gallagher and Lyle, but it’s doesn’t exactly stand out. While the contemporary remake of “Where Did Our Love Go” isn’t exactly disco, it’s still awful.

“Hard Times” continues the Ringo-by-numbers template, while “Tonight” came from a recent Small Faces reunion album (which also did not sell) and beats the tagline into the ground. “Monkey See—Monkey Do” was courtesy of schlock jazz man Michael Franks, but we should be relieved Ringo didn’t try tackle “Popsicle Toes”. “Old Time Relovin’” was the other Starkey-Poncia opus, and it has some pleasant changes and touches throughout, but it there’s a clever turn of phrase in the title, we can’t figure it out. Finally, “A Man Like Me” was a mild rewrite of a song from a children’s album written by Donald Pleasance, of all people, wherein Ringo had voiced and sung the main character of Scouse The Mouse. It’s actually kinda sweet, if syrupy.

It could be assumed that the glass of brandy on the cover tells us all we need to know. Bad Boy was about as exciting as its predecessor, and equally ignored. The TV special didn’t help a whit, being a mildly star-studded retelling of The Prince And The Pauper, mostly notable for a cameo by George Harrison. His new perm was about as ill-advised as what he was tasked with narrating.

Ringo Starr Bad Boy (1978)—2

Robyn Hitchcock 35: Vacations In The Past

Some of his album sleeves over the years had boasted the occasional surreal short story, but not until he passed the age of 70 did Robyn Hitchcock endeavor to write a memoir. Composed entirely on his iPhone in the wee hours, 1967: How I Got There And Why I Never Left is an engrossing look back a formative year in his life, shaped by his entry into boarding school and the music that dominated the year.

It was only natural that a companion album would materialize, and one did. Recorded much like his other post-Covid work, 1967: Vacations In The Past was pieced together over the wires with the aid of frequent collaborator Charlie Francis, and featuring contributions from fellow Soft Boy Kimberley Rew and prominent but not overused sitar by Kelley Stoltz. It’s predominantly acoustic with only the occasional bongo for percussion and, with one exception, all covers.

He begins “A Whiter Shade Of Pale” in a lower register, then adding an octave harmony on the second verse, but “Itchycoo Park” is just as jaunty as the original. “Burning Of The Midnight Lamp” is particularly striking without any electricity, but it’s still got wah-wah. The Move’s “I Can Hear The Grass Grow” is nice and trippy, but then there’s Scott McKenzie’s “San Francisco (Be Sure To Wear Flowers In Your Hair)”, a moldy oldie if there ever was one. Trite as it may be to Americans, it must have meant something to that impressionable British boy an ocean and a contintent way, but we can’t condemn anyone for their guilty pleasures. Anyway, it’s wholly redeemed by “Waterloo Sunset”, a song that’s nearly impossible to ruin, and he doesn’t.

A Syd Barrett song should be no surprise, and he tackles “See Emily Play” nearly solo but for Kimberley’s slide effects. Tomorrow’s original recording of “My White Bicycle”—besides being the first appearance by Steve Howe—was loaded with backwards instruments, and there are just enough of those effects here to keep the production faithful. “No Face, No Name, No Number” has long been a personal favorite, but while the most obscure track might be the Incredible String Band’s “Way Back In The 1960s”, it’s also the one that sounds the most like him. The title track is the lone original, and sounds like it could have been recorded at any time over the previous 40 years. It’s a wonderful bit of music, complete with references to tentacles and whatnot, that the cover of “A Day In The Life” is anticlimactic. He’d played this live many times over the years, and while this recording doesn’t attempt to replicate the original, it still gets a busy mix, with a backwards loop we can’t discern over the final sustained piano chord that doesn’t dissipate but stops.

As he said on Robyn Sings, 2002’s compilation of Dylan covers, he didn’t write these songs, but they wrote him. His deft playing style and wide-eyed approach resonates throughout, and illuminates the rest of his catalog in the process.

Robyn Hitchcock 1967: Vacations In The Past (2024)—3½

Genesis 24: BBC Broadcasts

Thirteen years after the last Genesis reunion tour, Phil Collins rejoined his old band for another go around the world. Dubbed The Last Domino?, the shows mixed familiar hits with older (and newer) epics. Phil sang seated in a comfy chair while his son played drums—and pretty well, by all accounts. Daryl Stuermer was still around, and two male backup singers were on hand as well. The tour was promoted by a double-disc compilation, also titled The Last Domino?, that more or less replicated the setlist—including full versions of songs that were excerpted onstage—and could have, once again, been a Spotify playlist. But it included some nice photos from the rehearsals and sent more royalties in the direction of the absent Peter Gabriel and Steve Hackett.

Once again the band had been put to bed, but Tony Banks still found a way to extend their reputation as a live attraction with the surprise release of the five-CD BBC Broadcasts box, covering the band’s career from 1970 to 1998. The package is mostly chronological, but by doing so some sessions are split between discs, which works for streaming, but can be jarring on CD. Also, while it’s five discs long, it doesn’t contain every radio performance by the band through the years—most likely to cut down on repetition, but also because they knew a whole disc from the Ray Wilson era was a non-starter, even at this low price point.

The first disc is the Gabriel era, beginning with three songs from the band’s first BBC studio appearance in 1970, and the same three that were already on the first Archives box. We jump to 1972 with the established Hackett-Collins lineup, with one flashback to the 1971 “Stagnation” that was also on the first Archives box. There’s a good performance of the rare “Twilight Alehouse” B-side, and an encore of “Watcher Of The Skies” from the Lamb tour.

From disc two on everything is in front of an audience, with improved sound, and the long-term live lineup including Daryl Stuermer and Chester Thompson. Five tracks from the 1978 Knebworth Festival—including the transition from “Dance On A Volcano” via “Drum Duet” to “Los Endos”—are followed by most of a 1980 London theater show, which fills the rest of disc two and most of disc three. Despite the occasional voiceover, highlights include the complete “Duke Suite” and the surprise encore of “The Knife”. (The songs omitted from this show were already part of the Knebworth selections. Also, “Follow You, Follow Me” is the same version that’s on Three Sides Live, while “Ripples”, “The Lady Lies”, “Duke’s Travels”, and “Duke’s End” were on Archives #2.)

Most of the well-traveled (since it was already on VHS and DVD) Wembley Stadium show from 1987 straddles discs three (the last two tracks) and four; the balance of the latter is given over to two songs from 1998 with Ray Wilson (who sounds very much like Paul Carrack on “Not About Us”). The fifth disc is devoted entirely to selections from their appearance at the 1992 Knebworth Festival: five songs from We Can’t Dance, with their “Old Medley” in the middle. We’d’ve ended with anything but an eight-minute “I Can’t Dance”, but the crowd seemed to love it.

Again, the sequencing is odd, and the discs aren’t all to capacity; surely some more music from 1978 or 1987 could have nudged the 1998 music to the end of disc five if it was so necessary to include? Quibbles aside, BBC Broadcasts has a lot of deep cuts for the musos and not just the pop fans, and thus provides an exhaustive look at what made the band, in any incarnation, such a draw through the decades.

Genesis The Last Domino? (2021)—3
Genesis BBC Broadcasts (2023)—3½