Nilsson 14: That’s The Way It Is

Since he still had a record deal after years without hits, RCA decided they were entitled to tell Harry Nilsson what kind of album to make. Looking at his successes, that meant a big-time producer and radio-friendly tunes. And if he couldn’t write any, he should cover some. And that’s pretty much what he did on ...That’s The Way It Is, which followed his last album by six months.

A lovely rendition of “That Is All”, a hidden gem by George Harrison, would seem to set a tone somewhere between romance and the standards tackled on A Little Touch Of Schmilsson In The Night. His voice is better, but not back to his peak. The same lush approach is applied to a medley of the oldies “Just One Look” and “Baby I’m Yours”, sung as a duet with latter-day Supreme Lynda Laurence, who just happened to be married to the producer, and we can just hear a touch of disco seeping in. He wrote “Moonshine Bandit” himself with Danny Kortchmar, and if this was the only song in his catalog that used steel drums, it would be plenty, as it’s pretty decent. Possibly most worrying is a cover of America’s “I Need You”, which was a top ten hit around the time of his last one, and given a delivery that clearly is trying to be another “Without You”, but with mild histrionics bordering on satire. It’s back to doo-wop for “A Thousand Miles Away”, but about a minute in he introduces another vocalist—“the one and only Tony La Peau”—to finish it for him amid canned applause.

Being a Randy Newman, he clearly understood the underlying irony in “Sail Away”, but gives it another sumptuous reading that disguises the racism and horror within. Amazingly he didn’t write “She Sits Down On Me”, as the idea of being the boyfriend of a tattooed lady is right up his alley, but unfortunately the punchline of the title is given away in the first verse, and the rest of the song can’t sustain the joke. “Daylight Has Caught Me” was written with Dr. John, and almost sounds like an Elton John pastiche along the lines of “Honky Cat” and such. The steel drums return for the calypso favorite “Zombie Jamboree (Back To Back)”, and his voice is very raspy by now, but this fades into a lush reprise of “That Is All”, a cappella with layered harmonies that might actually be all him.

It’s hard to tell from listening whether he was at all proud of ...That’s The Way It Is. The cover shows him reading a copy of Penthouse magazine with bottles, food, records, and other magazines strewn about a cluttered room. A copy of Duit On Mon Dei (with God’s Greatest Hits, his original intended title) is on the back cover, not far from a poster of Eldridge and Beaver Cleaver. That was about as funny as the label would let him be, but nobody was laughing about the dwindling returns.

Nilsson ...That’s The Way It Is (1976)—2

Beach Boys 6: All Summer Long

By now the Beach Boys were in direct competition with the Beatles, and Brian Wilson was determined to make albums of their quality, even in the chopped-up versions Capitol concocted from the British sequences. More and more he was utilizing members of the Wrecking Crew in the studio along with the Boys themselves. But he still had a brand to maintain, so All Summer Long kept up the image of fun, fun, fun in the sun, sun, sun.

It was also required by law to start an album with a hit single, and with “I Get Around” they had a well-deserved #1 amid some pretty stiff competition that didn’t sport harpsichords. The title track is a slightly better thematic rewrite of “Keep An Eye On Summer”, but it’s so singalongable that you may not notice the marimbas and piccolo solo. “Hushabye” was a cover of a doo-wop tune, and another nice showcase for their harmonies; now we can hear a touch of “Heroes And Villains” in the opening and closing piano. A twist on the car theme comes in “Little Honda”, a paean to the Japan-manufactured motorcycle with a chorus that must have written itself. (We suspect they were gunning for an endorsement, or at least free bikes.) “We’ll Run Away” is a rather simpering tune about kids who really, really wanna get married, but it likely reflected Brian’s own feelings about his girlfriend Marilyn, who was all of 16, and only six months away from becoming the first Mrs. Wilson. Whereas Dennis got namechecked on the last album, “Carl’s Big Chance” lets the youngest Wilson solo over standard changes from a Marvin Gaye song. Frankly, he plays better elsewhere.

For more of a progression, “Wendy” is very unconventional, from its tentative intro, through the Four Seasons-style vocal arrangement, the organ solo, and the throwback in the coda; an arrangement worthy of George Martin. Given the era when it was written, “Do You Remember?” can be heard as a reminder to American fans about the rock ‘n roll pioneers who inspired their British idols. Typical for Brian, it’s barely 90 seconds long, but seems longer. Much more complicated is “Girls On The Beach”, which still recycles phrases from “Surfer Girl” and other dreamy Brian concoctions. “Drive-In” continues the summer theme, and it is kinda funny, though Mike Love is a little too old to be singing about such mischievous antics. “Our Favorite Recording Sessions” is more unfortunate filler, two minutes of chatter without context and blown takes that only serves to set up “Don’t Back Down”. This would be their last song overtly about surfing for some time, but at least the attaboy sentiment is universal, and Brian’s falsetto counterpoint to the main melody is still impressive.

All Summer Long showed that Brian was growing more innovative, but he was still shoehorned into the same old message, and the pressure of touring while keeping up with a release schedule affected the quality. Clearly, he needed more time and space to create.

The associated bonus tracks on the two-fer CD included striking alternate takes of “Little Honda” and “Don’t Back Down”, plus the eye-opening “All Dressed Up For School”. Beyond the “Louie Louie”-style opening, its lyrics were a little too excited about how much the subject of the song had grown up. As this was to remain an outtake, Brian would use the melody for at least two other songs down the road. (Some fifty years later, the streaming-only Keep An Eye On Summer compilation provided further peeks into the sessions for this album and others.)

The Beach Boys All Summer Long (1964)—2½
1990 CD reissue: same as 1964, plus Little Deuce Coupe album and 4 extra tracks

Style Council 3: Home & Abroad

By now it should have been clear that Paul Weller wasn’t kidding about this whole Style Council thing. Two albums, as well as several singles and extended plays, seemingly erased the Jam and their sound from his memory. He was all about soul now, and proved it on stage. They were the second act at Live Aid in London, and later on tour the core duo was backed by a ten-piece band, adding horns, keyboards, bass, vocals, and more guitars. Clearly, as heard on the live Home & Abroad, the band is tight and well-arranged, but there’s a little too much “hall” ambience, so everything’s slathered in echo.

While the quality of the compositions is a matter of personal taste, a few moments stand out. “Headstart For Happiness” is the more arranged album version, and “The Whole Point Of No Return” gets a fuller backing. “With Everything To Lose” sports nice harmonies with Dee C. Lee, who is off-pitch on other parts of the album. Mick Talbot gets his vocal spot on “Homebreakers”, followed by a more relaxed, shuffling, but still snappy take on “Shout To The Top” Two songs made their album debuts: the B-side “(When You) Call Me” is adult contemporary by rote, and if you bought the cassette or CD, the swaggering EP track “The Big Boss Groove” shows off the band. (Another instrumental showcase on “Our Favourite Shop” was the other extra track.)

This was the only live Style Council album for some time, but in the following decade—after Weller’s solo career had erased both bands from his sound—another collection appeared in the UK. In Concert was sparsely packaged, but sounded a lot better, like it was mixed from soundboard recordings. Most of the tracks were recorded in 1984 or 1985, with three coming from 1987, and all from shows in the UK as well as Australia, Japan, and Germany.

Right away there are some rarities, beginning with Curtis Mayfield’s “Meeting (Over) Up Yonder” and their own “Up For Grabs”, which never got a studio recording. George Clinton’s “One Nation Under A Groove” isn’t very convincing, but the Chairmen Of The Board’s “Hanging On To A Memory” is a little better, possibly because it’s more obscure. A few B-sides get airings for the faithful: the moody “Le Depart” is a showcase for piano and trumpet; “Spring, Summer, Autumn” is just as slow but is just piano and Paul; “It Just Came To Pieces In My Hands” was practically an acoustic demo, but here is accompanied by organ and harmonies. “My Ever Changing Moods” is the more subdued piano version, and “A Stone’s Throw Away” and “Down In The Seine” are just Paul and guitar. “Money Go Round” kicks off a medley that encompasses the B-side “Soul Deep” and the “Strength Of Your Nature”; unfortunately Dee still has pitch issues. The only nod to his earlier life is “Move On Up”, which of course was a Jam B-side and live workout towards the end of that band. All together, it’s a better listen than Home & Abroad.

The Style Council Home & Abroad (1986)—2½
The Style Council In Concert (1998)—3

Morrissey 9: My Early Burglary Years

We can’t think of anyone whose first nine albums included three collections of singles and B-sides, but that’s just one thing that makes Morrissey who he is. But My Early Burglary Years didn’t just collect leftovers since the last mop-up set. Tunes going back to the time of his first solo singles are scattered throughout the program, along with two tracks repeated from one album and—for some reason, possibly to irritate completists—two others that were already on another compilation. This was only released on CD, and of course, several B-sides still went uncollected.

“Sunny” was a little-heard standalone single dug out by one of his old labels; its B-sides are slotted in further on. “At Amber” is something of a postcard with an insistent riff that could be toned down a tad. The only real rarity is an acoustic live cover of T. Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer”, wherein our hero and the guitarist are all but drowned out by the rapturous audience. “Nobody Loves Us” is a terrific tune with an anthemic chorus, while “A Swallow On My Neck” has an orchestrated drone that overwhelms the mix. The original studio version of “Sister I’m A Poet” is finally rescued from obscurity, and then things turn a little weird. “Black-Eyed Susan” is a nice little strum, but for a two-minute interlude that sounds like it’s been lost in the back of a shopping mall that specializes in clock stores, and “Michael’s Bones” and “I’d Love To” are both spooky yet poignant-sounding, whatever they’re about.

“Reader Meet Author” from Southpaw Grammar gets things back on a rocking track, carried out by “Pashernate Love” and “Girl Most Likely To”, the latter of which brought some songwriting residuals to Smiths bassist Andy Rourke. “Jack The Ripper” is the live version from Beethoven Was Deaf, but fans already had it there on import or on World Of Morrissey. “I’ve Changed My Plea To Guilty” is a lovely little torch song with piano for a quieter side trip before the final stretch. “The Boy Racer” is also familiar from Southpaw Grammar, and while “Boxers” too was on World Of Morrissey, it’s nice to hear again.

My Early Burglary Years is very well sequenced, so it feels like an album, even with all the disparate collaborators. Most of these songs would easily have been welcome on any album proper, but he must have decided they didn’t fit with whatever thesis he was trying to push. It also capped a busy decade, as well as the century because, outside of 2001’s The Best Of Morrissey, which recycled singles and album tracks, in some cases for the third time, Morrissey wouldn’t put another album out for six years.

Morrissey My Early Burglary Years (1998)—3

Oasis 8: Don’t Believe The Truth

While Oasis managed to keep their guitar players on board, and let them write songs, by the time of Don’t Believe The Truth they were on their third drummer. Luckily for everyone involved, the new guy was Zak Starkey, who knows a thing or two about dynamics, which are key to a successful album.

After an almost twinkling intro that doesn’t sound like them, “Turn Up The Sun” crashes in with Liam Gallagher’s trademark snarl-whine, with Noel helping on the high harmonies. After a subdued guitar solo, it peters out. (This one was written by bassist Andy Bell, and it’s a keeper.) Noel sings lead on “Mucky Fingers”, which isn’t much more than a cop of the sound of the Velvet Underground’s “Waiting For The Man”, but that could have been easily fixed if they’d not bothered adding the piano. Then “Lyla” borrows its vocal line from “Street Fighting Man”, which is too bad since the rest of the song is more interesting, if too long at over five minutes. Liam and guitarist Gem Archer collaborated on “Love Like A Bomb”, a mostly harmless strum, then Noel channels his inner Ray Davies for the music but not the lyrics of “The Importance Of Being Idle”.

Liam shows the importance of brevity in “The Meaning Of Soul”, a furious strum that comes in under two minutes, then steps up his songwriting range on “Guess God Thinks I’m Abel”, though the significance of that spelling remains elusive, just as how it’s supposed to rhyme with “rainbow”. Noel furiously strums “Part Of The Queue” on his 12-string, with Zak ably keeping up around the kit. “Keep The Dream Alive” improves when it varies from the one melody note sung in the verses, and we’d say it’s a gem of a chorus, but Andy wrote it. Gem does, however, contribute the intertwined, dare we say raga-influenced guitars for a little more energy before the finale. Between the piano and Mellotron, “Let There Be Love” is the most unabashedly Beatlesque track, but the trading of vocals between the Gallaghers and the sentiment in the verses overcome the sentiment of the title.

For much of Don’t Believe The Truth—only their sixth studio album—it almost sounds like Oasis have matured. Certainly they’re not loud for the sake of being loud, and there’s an attempt to stretch. The overall mood is dark but not down. These are much more “studio” songs than onstage anthems.

Oasis Don’t Believe The Truth (2005)—3

Tom Verlaine 4: Cover

Somehow Tom Verlaine still had a record deal, so right on schedule he went back in the studio with his usual sidemen and recorded another album. Cover is right in line with his other solo albums, but can be easily told apart by the thick level of reverb all over it, and the use of a drum machine on about half. Amazingly, six different recording studios on two continents were required to put it together.

It’s always good to start with the single, even though the catchy “Five Miles Of You” only made it to 45 (and 12-inch) in the UK. We hear a little Echo & The Bunnymen in the vocals for the mildly funky “Travelling”, but Tom did it first. (We could’ve sworn we heard a David Byrne-style vocal elsewhere on the album, but damned if we can hear it now.) “O Foolish Heart” sports a tinny synth that overpowers the mix, burying the guitar solo. “Lindy-Lu” has lots of intertwining guitars for a pop song the Cars might have enjoyed, and the same goes for “Let Go The Mansion”, another one-man band track.

“Dissolve/Reveal” is a little more intricate in its programming, and oddly seems to foreshadow Brian Eno’s ‘90s pop work as well as the guitar sound Paul Simon used throughout Graceland. Bill Laswell is credited on bass for “Miss Emily”, another decent rocker, but good luck picking him out of the mix. “Rotation” is fairly robotic for a track with real bass and drums, but while it takes a while to get going—past the barking dog and recitation at the top—“Swim” is practically a modern doo-wop song without the harmonies, and kinda sweet.

With those very ‘80s resonances, one might think Cover would have attracted more buyers. It didn’t. But while he’s not very much of a guitar hero here, at least it can still be discovered. (A later rerelease on CD included the B-side “Your Finest Hour” and an extended mix of “Five Miles Of You” as bonus tracks.)

Tom Verlaine Cover (1984)—3

Aerosmith 5: Draw The Line

Aerosmith was on a roll as well as a winning streak, so they holed up in a converted convent and, by their own admission, spent as much time writing and recording music as they did doing heavier and heavier drugs. Any detriment was not immediately apparent on Draw The Line; even non-fans were impressed that they got the legendary Al Hirschfeld to do the cover art.

The title track sends us immediately on our way with layered guitars and the most basic of riffs for a terrific track. And from there, well. “I Wanna Know Why” sports some clever turns of phrase and chordal shifts, as well as tasty piano played by someone who wasn’t in the band. The same guy plays on “Critical Mass”, which seems to be descended somewhat from “Spaced” musically, and doesn’t make much sense even when you can figure out the lyrics. By now some sameness of sound has set in among the tracks, but “Get It Up” stands out because the title has “can’t” sung before it in the chorus—a rather bold statement for these randy rockers. “Bright Light Fright” is also mentioned in those lyrics, and is notable here for Joe Perry’s lead vocal.

We finally get something of a departure in “Kings And Queens”, with its medieval lyrics, mandolin, and banjo bringing them as close to prog-rock than they would ever dare venture again. Sure it’s kinda silly, but part of the charm is that they seem to take it seriously. (The keyboard-and-bass break towards the end always reminds us of Rush, and in a good way.) But “The Hand That Feeds” is back to mindless rock, and the repeated “doctor” screeches don’t help. “Sight For Sore Eyes” is a little better, with some of the old strut in place, but there’s a surprising writing credit for David Johansen, who would soon see his wife run off with Steven Tyler. It all ends with a rocking cover of “Milk Cow Blues”, which they probably learned from the Kinks.

While Draw The Line delivered another record (or tape) for fans to enjoy, it doesn’t scale any new heights. Ending the album with another blues cover, along with several songs co-written with producer Jack Douglas, suggests that they were running out of ideas.

Aerosmith Draw The Line (1977)—3