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

Todd Rundgren 36: Global and Runddans

Suddenly and seemingly prolific, Todd Rundgren found himself with another stack of songs recorded all by himself. Sticking with the one-word titles, Global presented another state-of-the-world address, with varying results. But if you’re hoping to hear guitars, you’re out of luck, as it’s entirely electronic, outside the vocals.

While “Evrybody” begins with an exhortation for listeners to clap their hands, it’s more a plea for unity of the human race than a mindless singalong. After a synth intro, “Flesh & Blood” is along the same theme, right down to the techno beat, with the phonetically correct lyrics printed in the booklet. “Rise” might as well have been one of his early ‘80s experiments, as it’s right in line with that sound, but without many lyrics. “Holyland” makes up the verbal deficit, with another grand intro, an unfortunate tribal chant, and an unexpected message in the chorus. “Blind” is a slow burner that skewers those who choose religion over science, with a solo by longtime sax man Bobby Strickland. While “Earth Mother” is intended to celebrate female pioneers, the performance borders on parody.

From its single bleating note throughout, “Global Nation” starts in the nightclub and stays there, Autotune and all. “Soothe” would be the album’s big ballad, and ripe for covering by anyone hoping for a hit. In “Terra Firma” he compares himself to Christopher Columbus and astronauts, but still turns it into something of a love song. “Fate” uses the gambling analogy to demonstrate how we’re screwing up the planet, while “Skyscraper” takes the ivory tower metaphor to castigate those who take their wealth for granted. (That doesn’t include estates on Hawaii, apparently. Also, Kasim Sulton is credited, presumably on vocals.) “This Island Earth” sums up the whole album in one song, albeit with fluctuating tempo, and makes one think he could have written just the one song instead of an album full. (The digital version of the album ends with “Technopolis”, something of a Japanese TV theme song, and the only place where a guitar is heard.)

Whether or not Global delivered, fans had another album to devour, provided they didn’t mind paying import prices. Runddans was a collaboration with a pair of Norwegian musicians who were born around the time of the first Utopia album, and indeed, the first several minutes sound like side two of Initiation. “Solus” is some wordless vocalizing over a ticking beat, then “Put Your Arms Around Me” becomes the first thing approaching a pop song, complete with guitar solo. (Another track is indexed and titled for another guitar solo.) Themes come and go, echoes of things like “The Spark Of Life” emerge, and the overall effect is that of a bunch of guys who really like playing in the studio doing exactly that. We even get to hear a phone conversation discussing the work in progress; that too is remixed and treated. Have at it.

Todd Rundgren Global (2015)—2½
Todd Rundgren/Emil Nikolaisen/Hans-Peter Lindstrøm Runddans (2015)—2

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