Robyn Hitchcock 15: Greatest Hits

For some reason, which couldn’t have possibly included trying to capitalize on another label’s success, A&M decided it was time to put out a Greatest Hits album in the wake of the Rhino reissue program and Moss Elixir. Some of the more obvious choices from Globe Of Frogs, Queen Elvis, Perspex Island, and Respect are nicely intermingled with various B-sides from the same period that may have eluded the casual fan.

The so-called “electric” version of “A Globe Of Frogs” is a coin-toss with the album version, while “Legalized Murder” is a pretty piano meditation on the death penalty and vegetarianism. The humorous “Intro To Eyes” is a live monologue also known as “Clint And The Enchantress”, before melding nicely into the standard album version of “One Long Pair Of Eyes”. “More Than This” is a lovely version of the Roxy Music song, and one of a growing pile of exquisite covers he’s amassed over the years, but “Dark Green Energy” was mostly notable for the inclusion of Michael Stipe on vocals. “Alright Yeah” is an earlier B-side version recorded with the Egyptians, while “Bright Fresh Flower” sports a similar melody to “God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen” and ends the collection with something of a thud.

The five or so years he was on A&M were somewhat fruitful for Robyn, so while this album did something of a service when the albums were deleted, Greatest Hits is only available via download, hovering this material just above limbo. Considering that the rest of his ‘80s catalog has been reissued twice with bonus tracks, it would be nice if someone, anyone, could authorize new versions of the four A&M albums, if only so new fans can more easily obtain such lost classics as “Balloon Man”, “Madonna Of The Wasps”, “So You Think You’re In Love” and “The Wreck Of The Arthur Lee”, to name just a few. And if they could also collect some of the other rare tracks from the period… (No dopes when it came to marketing, soon afterwards Rhino put together their own “hits” collection, made up of album tracks from the material they then owned. Some odd choices sat alongside some clever ones, likely compiled from somebody’s personal mix tape, and including no rarities.)

Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians Greatest Hits (1996)—4
Current CD availability: none; download only
Robyn Hitchcock Uncorrected Personality Traits: The Robyn Hitchcock Collection (1997)—4
Current CD availability: none

Tom Waits 8: One From The Heart

A few years after bankrupting himself by trying to recreate the Vietnam War in Apocalypse Now, Francis Ford Coppola decided to recoup his losses by building a scale model of Las Vegas on a soundstage for his next major-league epic, One From The Heart. Having been entranced by the dialogue betwixt Tom Waits and Bette Midler on “I Never Talk To Strangers”, he hired Tom to write the score for his film, with the idea that the songs would actively reflect the script and vice versa. Bette not being available, the most obvious second choice was, of course, country sweetheart Crystal Gayle, she of the four-foot mane and bright blue eyes.

One thing to consider about the album’s context is that its genesis and completion framed the recording of Heartattack And Vine, the gritty sound of which is a direct contrast to this album’s more lush arrangements. The so-called “Opening Montage” goes from a brief piano piece into a couple of duets, one dreamy, the other jazz. “Picking Up After You” gives each of them a chance to complain, and Tom gives himself the best lines (“When did you start combing your hair with a wrench?”) but it’s a tad forced. Much better is “This One’s From The Heart”, which works well as a theme song of sorts.

Listening to this album, one can’t help but wonder what Crystal’s fan base might have taken of it. There’s no denying she has a lovely voice, especially as she wraps it around tearjerkers the likes of “Old Boyfriends” and “Take Me Home”. And how confused were they by her strange partner, grumbling his way through “Broken Bicycles”, “I Beg Your Pardon”. “Little Boy Blue” and “You Can’t Unring A Bell”? (Here’s an even wackier question: can we convince Tony Bennett to stop rerecording the same old standards and do an album of Tom Waits songs? Wouldn’t that be amazing?)

Since the film was such a resounding flop, its accompanying soundtrack LP got overlooked. The world at large wasn’t interested in a musical that hadn’t already been tested on Broadway, and it remains a transitional piece in the Waits discography. He had already all but left the saloon style behind, yet there are some clues to the future in the tango-cum-circus instrumental on side two, some of the percussion and the appearance of a bass player named Greg Cohen.

Decades later, after Coppola had finally made some of his money back, the film would be viewed a little differently (read: not a complete disaster, but still overblown) and the soundtrack hailed as exceptional, right down to adding two previously unreleased tracks to the remastered CD.

Tom Waits and Crystal Gayle The Original Soundtrack Of “One From The Heart” (1982)—2½
2004 reissue: same as 1982, plus 2 extra tracks

Rolling Stones 40: Forty Licks

Around the time that their ABKCO catalog got a major overhaul, with handsome digipacks, improved sound and, in some cases, SACD layers for the audiophile, somebody at the Stones office got thinking. Since they weren’t doing much else anyway, why shouldn’t the Stones put out another hits collection on their current label? For a twist, maybe it could encompass their entire career, and how about a couple of new songs to entice the wary? With a really suggestive title, like Forty Licks or something? And maybe even use it to launch an official website?

And that’s just what they did. The forty songs here are collected to commemorate the Stones’ fortieth anniversary. It should surprise nobody that the earliest twenty tracks cover their first ten years, and the remaining twenty (four of which are indeed brand new) cover the other thirty years.

Disc one is the first repackaging in a while of the ABKCO-owned material, and while it doesn’t quite replicate Hot Rocks, most of it is there. (And as long as we’re keeping score, it’s got only half of Big Hits and all but two from Through The Past, Darkly.) Disc two is much more traveled, sporting six songs from Made In The Shade, ten from Rewind and the 374th appearances of “Brown Sugar” and “Wild Horses”.

Of course, it’s the new songs that generate the most interest. “Don’t Stop” was the single, an inoffensive rocker, as was “Stealing My Heart”. “Keys To Your Love” brings back the old falsetto, but for many, Keith’s slow burner “Losing My Touch” was the winner.

Each disc is sequenced non-chronologically, but nothing from either “era” mixes with a stepsibling. Also, as a compromise, “Wild Horses” is on the ABKCO disc, while “Brown Sugar” is on the post-1971 disc. Forty Licks delivers what it promises, giving a nice overview of what made the boys great. But part of us still thinks Forty Lashes would have been just as fitting a title.

Rolling Stones Forty Licks (2002)—4

Joni Mitchell 5: For The Roses

With a sideways move to Asylum Records, Joni’s sound also took a diversion from the image she’d perfected thus far. For The Roses includes several piano songs and solo acoustic pieces, but just as her voice had gotten deeper, so had her immersion into free verse. It also features the unfortunate arrival of Tom Scott, who wouldn’t go away for some time.

“Banquet” is a pretty piano ballad, full of allegories and allusions, easing the listener in. Slightly more direct is the addiction portrait in the otherwise engrossing “Cold Blue Steel And Sweet Fire”. “Barandgrill” is an uncanny prediction of the type of lyrics Tom Waits would soon tackle, mixed with weariness of life on the road. (Notice the bass clarinet, which will dominate her albums to come.) “Lesson In Survival” is sequenced perfectly as a timely return to the sensitive piano, segueing seamlessly into “Let The Wind Carry Me”, which adds layered harmonies and saxes to the yearning. The title track, performed over a jaunty tuning reminiscent of her first album, is another disguised reflection on the music biz. This song, by the way, is a tour de force.

The aching “See You Sometime” sets up the second half, bringing us back to standard Joni territory as expected. But it’s not all that predictable, as “Electricity” makes all too clear. That comes off as merely an interlude to “You Turn Me On (I’m A Radio)”, featuring old paramour Graham Nash on second-grade level harmonica. It’s an odd perspective, seeing her as object, less than in control. The image of the woman onstage amidst a crazy audience is better displayed on “Blonde In The Bleachers”, wherein she capably imagines both the person alongside the headliner and the prospective groupie. By the time the band kicks in, the dynamics are just right. The song ends on just the kind of triplets that will drive another adventure down the road, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. The singer in “Woman Of Heart And Mind” takes control again, lest you think she’s too under the thumb of the men with whom she’s been seen. It ends as it should, with Joni at the piano, singing about Beethoven’s struggles on “Judgement Of The Moon And Stars (Ludwig’s Tune)”. The string and woodwind interruptions don’t stop her either.

For anyone who fell in love with Joni’s first four albums, she wasn’t about to make it easy in the slightest. Her journey was about to go over some pretty bumpy roads, so if you wanted to tag along, you’d better be prepared to hang on tightly. The songs on For The Roses are good, but somehow they’re just not as memorable as before. Without the obvious structures and rhyme schemes, they’re simply tougher to follow. But there’s no denying how pretty they are. (Meanwhile, the male chauvinists in us could leer at the inner photo, featuring Our Heroine photographed au naturel from a distance.)

Joni Mitchell For The Roses (1972)—3

Robyn Hitchcock 14: Moss Elixir

Hot on the heels of Rhino’s reissue campaign, Robyn signed with Warner Bros. and came out with a new album—two actually. Moss Elixir was considered the “real” album, but it was preceded two weeks early by Mossy Liquor. Subtitled “Outtakes and Prototypes”, this vinyl-only release had six different songs and six alternate versions from the CD. And in some ways, it’s better.

For a perverse beginning, “Alright Yeah” is sung in Swedish, as opposed to the earlier B-side recorded with the Egyptians. The Byrds-like backing is still infectious. “Beautiful Queen” has a pleasant groove following it, but “Shuffling Over The Flagstones”, a gorgeous instrumental in keeping with I Often Dream Of Trains and Eye, deserves to be heard more. “Cool Bug Rumble” stumbles for a while, though the guitar on the second bridge makes it. “Wide Open Star” is a weak attempt at English folk, and “Each Of Her Silver Wands” comes closer.

“De Chirico Street” features the insistent violin of Deni Bonet, who’d be featured on the contemporary tours and in an upcoming film. “As Lemons Chop” doesn’t really go anywhere, but the subdued “Sinister But She Was Happy” is slightly better. “Trilobite” is a tribute to a fossil of some kind, and no worse than They Might Be Giants’ songs about junior high science. “The Devil’s Radio” is more coded than George Harrison’s song, but at least he goes so far as to mention Rush Limbaugh by name. Apparently a “Heliotrope” is a plant that faces the sun, and this is a truly beautiful song. The untitled guitar coda near the inner groove conjures mental images of the last few seconds of Astral Weeks.

But being 1996, the casual consumer was more likely to hear the CD. Moss Elixir starts with a more electric version of “Sinister” and a faster “Devil’s Radio”. “Heliotrope” sounds the same, which is fine, followed oddly by “Alright Yeah” in English. “Beautiful Queen” has more of an edge in this version, plus a trumpet, but “De Chirico Street” isn’t much better in this rockin’, traffic-jam horn version.

Most of the “new” songs are worthy. “Filthy Bird” continues the English folk influence, as does “Speed Of Things” (which is similar to “Each Of Her Silver Wands”). Unfortunately, “Man With A Woman’s Shadow” tries too hard to be Hitchcockian. “I Am Not Me” is hollering for a rhythm section, but all we get is percussion near the end. A title track after the fact, “You And Oblivion” appears to be another meditation on dead parents over three chords; the “Cinnamon Girl”-style ending is a nice touch. The slow and snaky “This Is How It Feels” is an odd way to end the album, but at least it stays interesting.

A decade later, Mossy Liquor quietly turned up on iTunes and Rhino as a download-only release. Then, in 2010, tiny reissue label Wounded Bird put out a cheap two-fer set of both albums in one package, making the LP available on CD for the first time. Taken together, it’s now even easier to compile your personal favorites into a stellar mix. At the same time, it sounds like in the making of these albums, Robyn had plenty of ideas but no idea how to bring them together best.

Robyn Hitchcock Mossy Liquor (1996)—3
Robyn Hitchcock Moss Elixir (1996)—3

U2 15: How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb

U2 got themselves a big hit by going back to the basics, so their next album was built from the same approach. And once again, while How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb played it safe, perhaps they played it a little too safe.

“Vertigo” was the best choice for both album opener and single, with a driving beat and a count-in that translates as “some, two, three, fourteen.” (The closing vocal does remind us of Paul Shaffer, however.) The sweeter “Miracle Drug” builds to a big chorus featuring the same drum patterns that drove “Beautiful Day”. Another tug at the heartstrings comes with “Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own”, written for Bono’s dad’s funeral. This one also starts deceptively quietly, but really builds to its chorus. “Love And Peace Or Else” is a bombastic yet hollow threat, but “City Of Blinding Lights” nicely brings back some of their mid-‘80s vibe via Edge’s matching piano and guitar parts.

“All Because Of You” is another attempt at a big anthem with big Who chords, but you have to get past that percussive effect at the beginning that sounds like Fred Flintstone running across his living room. The mostly acoustic “A Man And A Woman” brings to mind the lesser half of the last album, and the lyrics are just plain wimpy. “Crumbs From Your Table” is a little better, a good arrangement masking a dark subject. The mildly atmospheric “One Step Closer” discusses death again, but it’s not clear what “Original Of The Species” is about, except three or so musical ideas shackled together. “Yahweh” is an imperfect prayer that would be more effective if Bono hadn’t come up with a better chorus than the title; besides, he’s written enough psalms already. Yet with that, the album simply stops.

How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb has its moments, and it’s not “bad” in the slightest, but again, the ingredients weren’t adding up to something great. After decades of writing anthems it seems they feel every song has to be one. Somehow no fewer than six—six!—producers were credited on the album, from the stalwart Steve Lillywhite, Brian Eno, Daniel Lanois, and Flood to newer entrants (for them) Chris Thomas and Jacknife Lee. Maybe they didn’t want to leave any era untapped?

The album, of course, was a huge hit, no doubt helped by the subsequent tour. Coinciding with its release, the boys partnered with Apple Computers to market their own branded iPod, preloaded with a “digital box set” called The Complete U2. As the title would suggest, it included each of their albums, as well as every single, B-side, bonus track and EP. Of course, that meant that some songs got repeated across several singles, album tracks and hits collections, and any other rare tracks yet to be unveiled would be missing. But what made it especially enticing were the true rarities: a disc each of Early Demos and Unreleased & Rare tracks, a CD’s worth of selections from a 1997 concert in Mexico City dubbed Hasta La Vista Baby!, and two complete concerts. Live From The Point Depot was the band’s last appearance before they regrouped to record Achtung Baby, while Live From Boston 1981 was a fantastic club show that fueled some early B-sides and deserves to be available on its own.

Oddly, when it came time for the album’s 20th anniversary, not all of the Atomic Bomb outtakes included in The Complete U2 were included in the deluxe edition. Instead, along with one disc of remixes and two discs dedicated to the audio from the Vertigo 2005 – Live From Chicago DVD, the non-U.S. extra track “Fast Cars” was stuck at the end of the album, and a disc titled How To Re-Assemble An Atomic Bomb presented what they called a “shadow album” of outtakes. It’s actually a mostly decent set of tunes, and too bad that it’s only available in the pricey box. “Picture Of You” was previously known as “Xanax And Wine” (hence the “X+W” subtitle) and is a more rocking version of what would become “Fast Cars”. “Evidence Of Life” has a wonderfully trashy riff and echoes of their earliest albums, but the real gem is “Luckiest Man In The World”, once known as “Mercy” when it was performed live and released on an EP. “Treason” is a collaboration with Dave Stewart of Eurythmics, with some hip-hop elements and a choir from Ghana. “I Don’t Want To See You Smile” was previously known by the last word in its title, and an improvement. “Country Mile” has a classic Edge guitar sound and an anthemic arrangement that was probably too close to “Beautiful Day” to be included on the original album. “Happiness” can’t decide if it wants to be punk or dance, though it does include more mentions of the omnipresent atomic bomb. “Are You Gonna Wait Forever” was a “Vertigo” B-side, while “Theme From The Batman” was Edge’s contribution for that animated television show. “All Because Of You 2” is merely an alternate version of the album track. Hindsight being everything, some of these would have been more welcome on the original album than what did make it.

U2 How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb (2004)—3
2024 20th Anniversary Edition: same as 2004, plus 45 extra tracks

David Gilmour 3: On An Island

After his longest musical silence yet, broken only by the surprise reunion of Pink Floyd with Roger Waters for the Live 8 charity concert, David Gilmour was content to be taken on the strength of his own name again. Such things happen when a guy turns sixty.

On An Island was co-produced with the legendary Chris Thomas, who’d mixed both The Dark Side Of The Moon and The Division Bell (among other things), and Phil Manzanera, a unique guitarist best known for his work with Roxy Music. Richard Wright appears on a few tracks (and indeed, the subsequent tour) but Nick Mason is absent.

Much of the album suggests the feeling of floating downstream, particular on the floating title track, wrapped comfortably within the harmonies of David Crosby and Graham Nash. “Smile” is a pretty little love song, recorded nearly by himself with his wife on some vocals. The most schizophrenic song is “A Pocketful Of Stones”, which begins slowly for about a minute before switching to a poignant piano accompaniment under lyrics that have been suggested to be about either Syd Barrett or George W. Bush. The album even ends in a cycle, with the aptly titled “Where We Start” reprising the mood and feel of the early tracks.

Several instrumentals change the moods as well. “Castellorizon” adds orchestration to another guitar solo, the dreamy “Then I Close My Eyes” is prefaced by the sound of Turkish instruments, and “Red Sky At Night” is not a cover of the hit by The Fixx, but is instead a showcase for Gilmour on saxophone, of all things.

On An Island is pretty, slow and generally quiet, and the attempts to rock don’t; those who purchased the CD at Best Buy would very much have enjoyed the six-minute “Island Jam” included on a bonus CD. But overall it’s a nice if underwhelming album, and at least he didn’t try to disguise it as the return of Pink Floyd, because it wasn’t.

The tour for the album spawned two DVDs, the second of which was also released on CD in a dizzying variety of editions. Like the tour, Live In Gdańsk begins with a suite from Dark Side (of course) before a performance of On An Island in its entirety. A smattering of oldies make up the rest of the program, with a few tributes to Syd, who died that summer, a full-length “Echoes”, and even “Fat Old Sun”. The more elaborate packages included various DVDs with bonus content, some including a bonus performance of “Wots… Uh The Deal”, sure to drain the wallets of the most devout Floyd enthusiasts. As live albums go, it’s enjoyable, unique for the live orchestra on some songs, Dick Parry on occasional saxophone, and Richard Wright on everything, as he himself died the week before the album came out. (Slightly more appealing was the Arnold Layne EP, a live tribute to Syd that featured two versions of the title track, one sung by Rick Wright and the other by David Bowie, plus Gilmour’s acoustic tribute of “Dark Globe”.)

David Gilmour On An Island (2006)—3
David Gilmour Live In Gdańsk (2008)—3

Bob Dylan 52: Brandeis University

The Dylan diehards who’d ordered either The Witmark Demos or the pricey Original Mono Recordings box set through Amazon got a special bonus CD. With the straightforward title of In Concert – Brandeis University 1963, it was a recently discovered recording of excellent quality, so rare it hadn’t even been bootlegged before.

It consists of two short sets from a folk festival, captured just after Freewheelin’ had been finished but not yet released. At this point, Dylan had yet to be a household word; as the notes point out, neither were the Beatles, and Kennedy was still alive, for that matter. The audience is attentive, clearly mesmerized by the words of “Masters Of War” and “Ballad Of Hollis Brown” (a year away from its album appearance) as they are appreciative of the sentiment in “Bob Dylan’s Dream”.

This performance is early enough that while he was bigger than the coffeehouses, he was not yet the notorious protest provocateur. Opening with a truncated “Honey, Just Allow Me One More Chance”, three of the songs performed are from his repertoire of talking blues, which pack enough wry humor in to goose the audience. Clearly, “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues” and “Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues” work better in a live format, as they were never included on a studio album. Even the gags in “Talkin’ World War III Blues” land better when punctuated by laughter.

The disc’s status as a rarity was changed the following spring when it came out as an official standalone release. Which, when you come to think of it, is a nice gesture for the average brick-and-mortar music emporium tired of getting screwed over by Amazon. Its widespread availability would suggest that it’s some kind of seminal performance for the ages, although at less than forty minutes, it rushes by comparatively quickly. But at a ten-dollar price point, with the added bonus of photos and liner notes, it gives collectors hope that it’s the start of a trend. Considering how many of Bob’s concerts over the years were professionally recorded, possibilities abound for what else could follow (like the promo-only Carnegie Hall sampler available around the time of the No Direction Home set).

Bob Dylan In Concert – Brandeis University 1963 (2011)—3

Mick Jagger 4: Goddess In The Doorway

After a fairly successful renaissance of the Stones for the close of the century, Mick decided it was time for a solo album. For his fourth time out he seemed to have grasped an idea of what would justify a detour from his regular band, but that doesn’t mean he should have bothered. Goddess In The Doorway finds him as obsessed as ever with sounding contemporary, tapping younger talents (we’ll get to those) but still relying on guitar work here and there from the likes of Joe Perry and Pete Townshend.

“Visions Of Paradise” is guilty-pleasure pop, a collaboration with the guy from Matchbox 20, so we’ll blame him for the less convincing parts. Bono is brought in for “Joy”, which relies mostly on two chords with a few diversions, and slathered with a gospel choir for that faux-spiritual feel. Something about “Dancing In The Starlight” sounds like we’ve heard it twice already, but it does have a killer chorus. “God Gave Me Everything” is basically a one-man Lenny Kravitz production with Mick singing, but then it’s followed with the mild modern R&B of “Hide Away”, which Keith might have made more reggae were he allowed to; instead we get Wyclef Jean. “Don’t Call Me Up” is the sensitive ballad with a title that sounds too familiar, and subject matter to match.

Besides being inscrutable, the title track suffers from a edgy pace and Mideastern touches already overused by Sting. “Lucky Day” isn’t too far removed from “Anybody Seen My Baby”; that this dance beat reminds one of a Stones track might define irony if we still knew what that was. “Everybody Getting High” is just plain stupid, as is the hurt posturing in “Gun”. “Too Far Gone” isn’t too bad, except that he opens by stating he doesn’t like nostalgia, then goes on to lament how the modern world has paved over his youth and technology has all but obliterated nature. A decent editor might have helped him get his message straight. “Brand New Set Of Rules” seems to suggest that he’s matured somewhat, on a track that’s better than the lyrics. (Two of his daughters are credited on backup vocals; presumably they’re the ones adding the “ooh-ooh” parts in the middle?) For some reason a “cocktail version” of the title track is hidden at the end, which actually sounds more interesting than the real thing.

This album notoriously got five stars in Rolling Stone magazine, an accolade seriously undermined when you consider it came from the highly suspect “journalistic integrity” of Jann Wenner. Clearly a favor was being paid, because this was hardly the apex of the man’s life’s work. Mick is very good at one thing, and that’s not to say that he’s a one-trick pony, but he’d be better served by trying a real departure from the average if he wants respect outside the Stones. Goddess In The Doorway isn’t embarrassing, but it just doesn’t make it.

Mick Jagger Goddess In The Doorway (2001)—2½

Rolling Stones 39: No Security

Right on schedule, barely a year after Bridges To Babylon, the Stones put out a live album culled from their most recent tour. In order to squelch the griping of those who damned their lack of originality (who, us?) they at least filled up No Security with songs that hadn’t been included on any previous live album, or at least not since 1969 or so. How nice of them.

After a 48-second intro that was probably more interesting to watch, “You Got Me Rocking” gives way to “Gimme Shelter” via a sloppy edit, before coming back to the future with “Flip The Switch”, which at least gives Keith room to stretch. In an increasingly worrying trend, a few high-profile guests show up on a couple of duets. Dave Matthews may not have been the ideal choice to include on “Memory Motel”, but the kids love him. The hipper kids also love Taj Mahal, who makes his second appearance on a live Stones album with his arrangement of “Corrina”. “Saint Of Me” tries to keep things current again, and somehow the Brazilian crowd sings along. A pleasant take on “Waiting On A Friend” proves that Mick can’t hit the high notes anymore, letting the backing vocalists carry it.

“Sister Morphine” is one of the odder choices for an arena show, even for Amsterdam, but “Live With Me” and “Respectable” bring back the rock. Keith’s moment comes with “Thief In The Night”, before being pushed aside for “The Last Time” and an unnecessarily lengthy “Out Of Control”.
Thanks to all the technology available on stage, as well as whatever could have been cleaned up in the studio afterwards, No Security doesn’t deliver that “you are there” feel of a live album. Except for a few moments, it doesn’t sound very spontaneous. But was anyone really expecting this album to be remotely substantial? As for the hideous cover, the less said the better.

Troupers that they were, the band immediately embarked on another tour to support the album, yet resisted the urge to put out a live album from that… for two whole decades, until a show from the end of the American leg was released in their increasingly underwhelming “From The Vaults” series. No Security: San Jose ‘99 presents a complete show in, par for the tour, a smaller arena but with a full horn section and backup singers, leaning mostly on the usual candidates, with mild surprises in the way of “I Got The Blues”, “Route 66”, and a mini-Keith set of “You Got The Silver” and “Before They Make Me Run”. (A warm-up show at London’s Shepherd Bush Empire with a slightly different setlist was released six years later, heavy on selections from Some Girls and Voodoo Lounge, with such oddities as rare performances of “Moon Is Up” and “Melody”, plus “Honky Tonk Women” with howling from tour opener Sheryl Crow. Even with that, it’s probably the best of all of the archival releases from this era, including the following.)

If that wasn’t enough, barely a year later Bridges To Bremen presented a complete show from close to the end of the tour, two months before the original release of No Security. To these ears they were a little tired; Mick exhorts the crowd occasional in German but mostly in English, and meanders into a “She Works Hard For The Money” detour during “Miss You”, but does put a little oomph into “Paint It Black”. Unfortunately, “Anybody Seen My Baby?” doesn’t translate well to the stage, and while it’s nice to hear “Memory Motel” without Dave Matthews, it’s kinda weak. Keith’s mini-set pairs “Thief In The Night” with the rare “Wanna Hold You”, which seems to fire Mick’s energy up. And only six months after that, an earlier show from Buenos Aires was released as—you guessed it—Bridges To Buenos Aires—in in a similar double CD-plus-DVD-slash-Blu-ray package. The promoted highlight here was an appearance by Bob Dylan on “Like A Rolling Stone” that’s just short of a motorcycle wreck thanks to Mick’s insistence on making it a duet. Pointedly, Bob takes off his guitar before the song’s over, and hugs only Ron and Keith before hightailing it offstage.

Rolling Stones No Security (1998)—2
Rolling Stones No Security: San Jose ‘99 (2018)—2½
The Rolling Stones Bridges To Bremen (2019)—2½
The Rolling Stones Bridges To Buenos Aires (2019)—2½
The Rolling Stones Welcome To Shepherd’s Bush (2024)—3

Brian Eno 18: Another Day On Earth

While Eno had released the occasional album since the turn of the century, most were ambient in the purest sense of the word, in that they were designed to accompany art installations, and not be overly concerned with things like melody or chord changes. The arrival of Another Day On Earth, however, was exciting, since he actually had songs with words to them. While it’s closer to the general sound of Wrong Way Up than anything in the “first four”, it was easy to ignore the previous fifteen years of silence.

Beginning with exactly the type of rhythm box he’d used for composition, “This” is repetitive yet melodic, while “And Then So Clear” and “A Long Way Down” continue the gentle approach, the former with a processed vocal in an artificially high register, and the latter more spoken. (Speaking of which, he gives over “Going Unconscious” and the closing “Bone Bomb”—something of an anti-war statement?—to the dulcet coos of a woman, while his synth burble underneath.)

“Caught Between” is fairly adventurous vocally, showing the grasp of harmony he’d picked over the years. It even has some guitar straight out of Another Green World. “Passing Over” comes close to being spooky, and luckily the mood is lightened by “How Many Worlds”, its chamber-like backing decorated by several violins. “Bottomliners” is full of impressionistic lyrics designed to excite the imaginations of Enophiles everywhere.

By the time “Just Another Day” comes along, many of the songs have started to resemble one another, but it’s still a nice summation of the best elements of the album. “Under” continues the mood, oddly enough as it’s a re-recording of a track from My Squelchy Life, previously released on one of his box sets.

Another Day On Earth wasn’t about to set the world on fire, but again, for Eno fans, it was great to have something to add the pile that wasn’t strictly digital wallpaper. Song-based albums would be the exception to his norm, as he’d continue to go further back into the future, determined as ever to find his own way.

Brian Eno Another Day On Earth (2005)—3½

Robert Plant 9: Mighty Rearranger

Not content to look back, Robert continued working with a permutation of his most recent backing band, now dubbed the Strange Sensation. Together, they conceived Mighty Rearranger, a set of new original songs following the same themes of the sate of the world while exploring exotic and traditional sounds.

The album is pleasant, certainly, but like much of his solo work, doesn’t always resonate past the initial listen. “Another Tribe” sets something of a mood, but the first single, “Shine It All Around” tries too hard with its boomy drums and isolated guitar solo. (A remix, included as a hidden track, downplays both, but at the expense of the actual song.) Despite the pointed title, “Freedom Fries” struggles under an impossible meter—and cribs an entire couplet from Don McLean—while “Tin Pan Valley” understates his determination to move forward via an imperceptible melody until the middle raveup section. One standout track, finally, is his own song called “All The King’s Horses”, a gentle acoustic number more satisfying than the one by The Firm. We originally said “The Enchanter” fails to truly deliver on its title, but several years of hindsight have shown it to be a fine harbinger of later, better albums.

By the time “Takamba” comes around, the Mideastern touches become more welcome, but are interrupted by loud interludes, making one wish he could have worked without the electrics. But with its juxtaposition of those foreign instruments and blues references, “Somebody Knocking” delivers the desired feel much better. In between, “Dancing In Heaven” is more straightforward, with open-tuned acoustic and nicely layered harmonies, even if the lead guitar sounds a lot like Page. “Let The Four Winds Blow” is a step in the right direction, but the title track is just more of the same. Whatever finale it was supposed to provide is augmented by “Brother Ray”, a short, seemingly impromptu duet with barrelhouse piano. (The hidden remix of “Shine It All Around” was included on the later remastered CD with two other unnecessary remixes of album tracks, plus the blues pastiche “Red, White And Blue” and the more straightforward “All The Money In The World”.)

Despite its best intentions, Mighty Rearranger is unfortunately another Robert Plant album that sounds fine when it’s on, but not guaranteed to stay in the player for more than one go-through. At least he could hardly be accused of embarrassing himself or his legacy.

Robert Plant and the Strange Sensation Mighty Rearranger (2005)—2½
2007 remastered CD: same as 2005, plus 4 extra tracks