Kinks 35: To The Bone

Even if the Kinks had become something of an oldies act, their following was still fervent. So when they finished their most recent tour, they invited fans to their own Konk Studio for a special performance. A selection of songs were augmented by some recordings from larger venues for To The Bone, released in the UK on their own Konk label and an enjoyable live album.

Two years later, the album was expanded to the point where two CDs were required to hold it all. Even with that, “Waterloo Sunset” and “Autumn Almanac” from the original UK release were not included. The American release was on a label already devoted to legacy artists, and came partially thanks to the success of VH-1’s Storytellers show, which was inaugurated by Ray Davies and based on the format of his recent solo tour. (Indeed, an album of readings from his memoir and performances of pertinent songs would be released under his own name as The Storyteller.)

After the opening blast of “All Day And All Of The Night”, the program goes to the more stripped down approach, with acoustic guitars, occasional accordion, and only Dave Davies’ electric for bite. They’re clearly enjoying themselves, and so is the crowd, who can occasionally be heard singing along. Most of the songs come from the mid-‘60s through earliest ‘70s, though we do hear more recent hits like “Better Things”, “Don’t Forget To Dance”, and “Come Dancing”. “Do It Again” is started by Ray solo, and we’re given the impression that the band was late to the stage, which is why there’s a strange interlude before they come in. “Do You Remember Walter” is given a “Bavarian” treatment thanks to the accordion and slower tempo, but they wisely go back to album tempo for the last verse. The bulk of the second disc is from the larger shows, and are therefore a lot louder. “Give The People What They Want” and “Gallon Of Gas” are unnecessary, particularly in the absence of the aforementioned missing tracks.

They also took the opportunity of the expansion to include two pretty good new songs, both reflections of past relationships. “Animal” wistfully compares highs and lows over a familiar crunchy three-chord riff (with key changes well placed), and the title track is a unique take on the idea of records evoking memories of romance and vice versa. If they’re truly the band’s last songs, they’re a strong finish.

The Kinks To The Bone (1996)—3½

Roger McGuinn 5: Thunderbyrd

Given his higher profile from the Rolling Thunder Revue and the success of his Cardiff Rose album, one might think Roger McGuinn would build on that momentum. Well, he didn’t. He put together a touring band dubbed Thunderbyrd, named after the two most direct connotations of his brand. It was also the title of his next album, another mix of covers and cowrites with Jacques Levy.

While “All Night Long” has a gentle, dreamy opening, the chorus crashes in for a reach at arena rock—and sure enough, it’s a Peter Frampton cover, only a year after he Came Alive. “It’s Gone” has a little of that trademark Rickenbacker, but is drowned out by the mix, just as “Dixie Highway” is a fairly pedestrian driving song with the barest hook. As much as Tom Petty’s “American Girl” sounded like the Byrds to many people, Roger unfortunately takes the energy out of it, even at the same tempo, changing some of the words and blowing the phrasing. Tom Scott’s sax solo doesn’t do any favors either. “We Can Do It All Over Again” is a collaboration between white blues legend Barry Goldberg and the guy who wrote “Drift Away”, and a somewhat cloying plea to stand by this constantly working musician.

Continuing the journey through the history of American music, “Why Baby Why” is a cover of George Jones’ first hit single, with prominent steel guitar over a honky-tonk backing. “I’m Not Lonely Anymore” isn’t completely convincing, especially when he says he can “sing like a bird”, and the electric piano reminds you it was the late ‘70s. “Golden Loom” is the album’s token Dylan cover, this one a Desire outtake, dominated by Rick Vito’s bluesy harmonica and not very Dylanesque at all. But the song that nearly all that has gone before is the closing “Russian Hill”, a reverie on lost love, lost youth, lost everything, with its poetic lyrics given a sympathetic backing—or to put it another way, restraint. And unlike the bulk of the album, you can actually understand the words.

Thunderbyrd would benefit from more musical variety like that. Instead, it’s a grab bag of styles assaulted by a band trying to get attention in a loud bar. If you listen closely enough, you can almost hear the potential.

Roger McGuinn Thunderbyrd (1977)—2½

John Baldry: It Ain’t Easy

The British blues scene of the early ‘60s was rife with important individuals who may not have become household names, like Alexis Korner, Chris Barber, and Graham Bond. And then there was Long John Baldry, whose early bands were launchpads for Rod Stewart and Elton John. (The latter took half of his stage name from the man, and would immortalize him as “sugar bear” in “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”.) So when both of those guys started to become really famous, they leapt at the chance to produce two albums for him, of which It Ain’t Easy was the better.

Though the session dates overlapped between producers, side one was devoted to the tracks Rod oversaw, beginning with a wonderful little medley. “Intro: Conditional Discharge” is a shaggy dog monologue in Baldry’s mostly proper English voice over Ian Armitt’s piano, leading into the driving “Don’t Try To Lay No Boogie-Woogie On The King Of Rock And Roll”. Micky Waller and Ron Wood, veterans of the Jeff Beck Group as well as Rod’s solo albums, provide the drums and guitar here and the rest of the side. “Black Girl” is country blues via Leadbelly, sung in duet with Maggie Bell, and better known as “In The Pines”, and to Nirvana fans as “Where Did You Sleep Last Night”. (Ron sits this one out, letting Sam Mitchell shine on the dobro.) The title track had already been covered by Three Dog Night, and Bowie would record his own nearly identical version shortly after. “Morning, Morning” is a rockier version of a song from the second Fugs album, coming close to Cat Stevens but with louder drums. It’s a quick segue to Muddy Waters’ “I’m Ready”, for a strong side-closer.

Just as Rod’s half reflected his own current brand and band, so did Elton’s side. Randy Newman’s “Let’s Burn Down The Cornfield” has some of the dark Americana already mined for Tumbleweed Connection. Another connection arrives in “Mr. Rubin”, a sweet piece of social commentary written by Lesley Duncan, whose “Love Song” was covered by Elton on that album, and who would go on to sing on his next album as well. Elton and Bernie Taupin offered up “Rock Me When He’s Gone”, one of the better songs he never released on an album or single of his own, but perfect for Baldry. In a wonderful crossover, “Flying” is the Faces song from their first album with Rod and Ron, here stretched a few more minutes for the vocalists to work the coda.

A year later, they flipped sides for Everything Stops For Tea, which has its moments but simply isn’t as consistent as its elder sibling. Both albums are available for streaming, though It Ain’t Easy includes the bluesy acoustic bonus tracks—as well as an electric “Love In Vain”—that were added to a 2005 reissue in the UK. It deserves to be heard and enjoyed.

John Baldry It Ain’t Easy (1971) 3½

Daniel Lanois 6: Here Is What Is

After a quarter-century of people possibly knowing his name and what he did for a living, Daniel Lanois decided to make himself the subject of a documentary. Here Is What Is is a non-linear, cinema-verité portrait of the artist at work, in performance, and in conversation. It’s interesting if you follow his career, but the overlying message he’s trying to convey is “I’m awesome and here’s why.”

Naturally, there was a soundtrack, which features some of the music seen created in the film, as well as dialogue with Brian Eno. Besides being a long album, there’s not a lot of unity, with the exception of his voice. And that’s the problem: he’s wonderful at creating and transforming atmospheres, but with the exception of Acadie, he’s generally fallen short as a singer-songwriter. The best tracks here have no vocals, like “Blue Bus” (a cousin of “Deep Blue Day” from his and the Enos’ Apollo album), but even the ones that do don’t really stand out except for their blandness, with a few exceptions. “Where Will I Be” was first heard on an Emmylou Harris album, and here benefits from Brian Blade’s drums, as most things do. “This May Be The Last Time” is seemingly made up on the spot by Blade’s preacher father. “Harry” was supposedly inspired by actor Harry Dean Stanton, and “I Like That” goes through some interesting changes.

A chunk of the film is devoted to him playing his pedal steel guitar, and focusing on the heights of inner ecstasy he experiences while doing so. That’s how we get over eight minutes of “Lovechild”, and a shorter improv called “Bladesteel”, whereas a recording of “Bells” lasts just one. “Sacred And Secular” is an alternate arrangement of “Transmitter” from Shine, and it’s nice, but we’ve heard it before. While he’s allowed to explore to his heart’s content, he’s generally better off when he can run rampant with somebody else’s initial ideas.

Daniel Lanois Here Is What Is (2007)—2½

Robyn Hitchcock 36: The Confuser

Another memoir composed on his phone coincided with a fresh batch of Robyn Hitchcock songs. The events of Stranded In The Future cover his path to becoming a songwriter and recording artist, and in many ways, his approach to the craft hasn’t really changed in the decades since. The Confuser is right in line with his brand, but something about the combination of words, melody, and performance make this one of his most satisfying albums of the century.

Right out of the gate “I Am This Thing” has a provocative opening line and the usual surprising rhymes as befit a statement of purpose. We’re not sure if the music he says he loves is supposed to “the birds” or “the Byrds”, but it’s damn catchy. The band infuses “My Dead Astronaut”—another familiar theme—with wacky space effects for another toe-tapper. Disembodied voices appear now and then, and it’s probably not best to search for meaning. The same could be said for “Yesterday’s Rain”, except that it’s the most developed of the opening three rockers, and the best track yet, but we’ve barely gotten started. Things quiet down for “Breathless”, with a sinewy arpeggiated guitar part that’s another one of his trademarks, and the band subtly comes in to fill in the borders, with Kimberley Rew presumably adding those sitar-like parts. But it’s just a setup for the haunting “Ghost In Sunlight”, wherein Robyn channels John Lennon playing electric piano. A Mellotron and what sounds like a cello are wonderful touches, and Gillian Welch provides harmonies and her own disembodied voices in both channels over the end before everything resolves.

A funky wah-wah boogie drives “Building From The Ruins”, which mostly sits on one chord but sports lots of surrealism hiding lines like “I miss democracy like my wisdom teeth.” “The Vanishing Kind” is a sweet and simple love song that features a nice wandering bass line and eventually layered vocals, while “How To Feel Alright” is more skewed, with warped imagery and Oedipal undertones over a brisk Bo Diddley beat and lots of Kimberly Rew guitar. At first we thought “Monday For Me” was resonant of Tom Petty’s “Wake Up Time”, but since that was also based on the structure of “Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands”, all is fair. This one still has a great chorus with good use of the days of the week. Rather than go out on something profound, “Wasted” flirts with honky tonk while exploring the different possibilities of the meaning of the title.

The band is consistent throughout The Confuser, and it sounds like they were all playing in the same room. That gives the album a unity that ranks with the best of the albums he did with the Egyptians way back when, and makes it all worth it.

Robyn Hitchcock The Confuser (2026)—4

Ringo Starr 13: Vertical Man

Just like Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr had more time on his hands in the wake of the Beatles Anthology promotion wave, so why not do any album? While Vertical Man was still something of an all-star project, he took a more active role in the songwriting, co-writing all but two tracks, playing drums throughout and even some other instruments. His right-hand for the proceedings was Mark Hudson, who’d graduated from a Beatlemaniac in a band with his brothers on Saturday morning TV to become something of a hit songwriter and producer. Besides playing and writing for the album, he added lots of backing vocals and harmonies that had listeners checking the credits to see who was singing. The results were probably his most consistent album in, well, decades.

“One” is power pop filtered through country, thanks to Jeff “Skunk” Baxter on pedal steel, which sounds enough like George Harrison among the 12-strings. Paul provides harmonies as well as bass on the enjoyable “What In The… World”, returning the favor from Ringo’s help with Flaming Pie. But then “Mindfield” puts Ringo’s voice through a speaker for a wacky effect and comes this close to being rap. Joe Walsh’s solo is suitably loud, and the explosion at the end is stupid. The wistful “King Of Broken Hearts” also resembles George Harrison to warrant lovely guitar parts weaved through, with subtle strings and even Mellotron to help it along. Two tracks later, the title track has a “When We Was Fab” vibe and Hudson quirks to be yet another Beatlesque knockoff that’s starting to push its luck. (Ozzy Osbourne sings on this one.) But in between there’s “Love Me Do”. While his reasons for remaking it are understandable—he was relegated to tambourine for the Beatles’ original single—it’s extraneous, notable only for Steven Tyler on harmonica, who likely found his way there via Hudson. Nobody needed another version of Dobie Gray’s “Drift Away” either, and Steven Tyler’s vocal was nixed by his label, so his part was replaced by Tom Petty. Alanis Morissette’s contribution stood, and if you listen close you can hear Rose of the Family Stone in there somewhere.

Alanis and Paul sing along with “I Was Walkin’”, and Steve Cropper adds a guitar solo, so the mid-‘70s vibe is mostly charming until the unnecessary “sleep” sequence. and “La De Da” is also mostly harmless, even after five minutes, with roughly three dozen friends singing along the chorus, and they wisely kept Paul up in the mix. “Without Understanding” is one of his more convincing rock songs, though the operatic opening is odd, and we suppose the reference to “good vibrations” was reason enough to get Brian Wilson to add a bunch of layered vocals. The modern rockabilly of “I’ll Be Fine Anywhere” gets a boost from another Harrison solo, and it’s a good lead-in to the slap-back percussion of “Puppet”. To keep it in the family, George Martin provided the string arrangement for “I Am Yours”, a very sweet tribute to Mrs. Starkey.

Those who bought the album at Best Buy got a bonus disc with three extra songs, all somewhat country. For some reason “Mr. Doubleitup” ends with a lounge instrumental of “With A Little Help From My Friends”), while “Sometimes” and “Good News” were a little more straightforward, with an accent on humor. At a time when Garth Brooks, Shania Twain, and their ilk were selling millions, it’s anyone’s guess whether these should have gotten wider distribution.

Ringo went into overdrive promoting the album, with the biggest appearance arguably on VH1 Storytellers, that channel’s variation on the “unplugged” special. Along with the ubiquitous Hudson, the band included Joe Walsh, Simon Kirke, Jack Blades of Night Ranger. He actually had a hand in writing most of the songs in the set, so his anecdotes about them are pertinent as well as enjoyable—even the ones you’ve heard before. He even played piano to start “Don’t Pass Me By”. A CD of the performance was released four months after Vertical Man, and did worse on the charts.

Ringo Starr Vertical Man (1998)—3
Ringo Starr VH1 Storytellers (1998)—3

Yes 14: 90125

The ‘80s saw a lot of surprising comebacks, and one of the biggest was that of Yes. Having imploded and scattered following the poor reception of their one album without Jon Anderson, Chris Squire and Alan White were determined to keep going somehow, and found a reason in young innovative guitarist Trevor Rabin. His more mainstream tendencies prompted Squire to call Tony Kaye, who’d been bounced off keyboards for not being as adventurous as Rick Wakeman. After recording for a while as Cinema, with Trevor doubling on keyboards and singing along with Squire, the label suggested they get Jon to sing and improve the lyrics. Once that was accomplished, the label suggested they call themselves Yes.

The resultant 90125—named for the catalog number, of course—stood out for its cold computer graphics and strikingly modern production by Trevor Horn. But for the occasional proggy element here and there, the songs were shorter and radio-friendly. And this being the era of MTV, a lot of money went into their videos, which got a new generation of kids into the band, especially since Asia was pretty much done.

“Owner Of A Lonely Heart” was that inescapable first single, video, and album opener. The metal riff and sampled orchestra hits didn’t sound like Yes, but as soon as Jon starts singing, it could only be Yes. “Hold On” is another winner despite its plodding drums; the opening fill and shifted meter in the second verse and during the solo are the most adventurous White gets on this album. As with most of the best parts of this album, the combination of vocalists is stellar. A sitar wasn’t often heard on a rock album in those days, but it helps “It Can Happen” stand for another catchy one. “Changes” has a repeated vibraphone theme that we only just recently realized recalls side three of Topographic Oceans, as well as some guitar parts that sound enough like Steve Howe to match the brand. Once they get the tricky part out of the way on the intro, it’s a standard Rabin riff, and he sings a lot of it.

“Cinema” opens the second side, a Grammy®-winning instrumental apparently siphoned off a much longer piece, and sounding most like a link to the Yes of old. “Leave It” was the second single, pushed by a series of video variations that played havoc with computer manipulation, and also made available in a mix that isolated the layered vocals. “Our Song” is kinda dippy, with only the odd meter changes and vocals keeping it from sounding like Night Ranger, but somehow it works. Not so “City Of Love”, which is too boomy for even this album, but this edition of the band wasn’t going to be known for its dynamics. “Hearts” threatens to be swallowed up by itself, particularly as it’s the longest song on the album. But even after the synth flute theme and Asian touches start to grate, there’s a wonderful chorus that again shows off the vocal ability of this combo.

The music was designed for arenas, so they toured, of course. Exactly two years after 90125 came out, a concert video was released on VHS as 9012Live. But instead of a companion double live album, fans had to settle for 9012Live: The Solos, a strangely titled mini-LP. After a half-decent “Hold On”, Tony kills a couple minutes with “Si”, not much more of a keyboard drone with a Bach fugue detour, and “Solly’s Beard” is a semi-classical high-speed acoustic piece from Trevor. Jon delivers the “Soon” portion of “The Gates Of Delirium” to much cheering. On the other side, “Changes” is fine, but Squire plays “Amazing Grace” for some reason, then adds the drummer to jam on an extended interpolation of “The Fish” and some other riffs (called “Whitefish”, get it?) for nearly nine minutes.

Most fans were relieved it was low-priced, and for the longest time was only available on CD from Japan—that is until the Friday Music label licensed it, and added the contemporary live B-sides “City Of Love” and “It Can Happen” for completeness. By that time, 90125 had finally gotten its own remastering along with the rest of the Yes catalog. Requisite bonus tracks included remixes of “Owner Of A Lonely Heart” and “Leave It”, as well as the “a cappella” mix of the latter, plus three songs left over from the initial Cinema sessions, two of which had already appeared on a box set. (The Twelve Inches On Tape cassette of dance remixes remains unavailable digitally.)

Yes 90125 (1983)—3
2004 remastered CD: same as 1983, plus 6 extra tracks
Yes 9012Live: The Solos (1985)—2
2011 Expanded CD: same as 1985, plus 2 extra tracks