Roger McGuinn 2: Peace On You

Whatever charms his first solo album had didn’t translate to sales, so his label dictated that Roger McGuinn submit to someone else producing his follow-up, and probably bring in some ringers too. In addition to Al Kooper, Dan Fogelberg—who contributed a song apiece—and Flo & Eddie (the latter’s last name spelt wrong), the musicians on Peace On You included Paul Harris and Al Perkins (most recently found in Manassas), Donnie Dacus (who’d soon be found around Stephen Stills himself), and the rhythm section of Russ Kunkel and Lee Sklar (next stop: Crosby & Nash), with the whole proceedings helmed by Bill Halverson (who’d already been associated with CSN). Even the back cover included hype-style liner notes reminding the consumer who he was and what he did, basically saying his name wasn’t enough anymore.

The joke in Charlie Rich’s “Peace On You” gets lost in its arrangement, and more so because it’s the title track. The lonesome “Without You” puts a drag on the proceedings, even with Donnie Dacus soloing constantly. Dacus himself contributed “Going To The Country”, which has promise in its picking, but he didn’t bother to write a chorus. Al Kooper’s “(Please Not) One More Time” is slathered in adult contemporary pop touches, but “Same Old Sound” is mostly notable because we finally hear the trademark 12-string play a solo.

“Do What You Want To Do” is a slightly better Allman Brothers homage from Dacus, but “Together” is more lovelorn moping that seesaws between downbeat picking and ill-advised double-time choruses. “Better Change” is the Fogelberg contribution, and a lot tougher than we expected it would be. “Gate Of Horn” is a tribute to the storied Chicago folk club where he fell in love with the genre, sadly shackled to a vaudeville-style arrangement that speeds up and slows down at various points. “The Lady” finally sounds like classic McGuinn, and about time as it’s the last track.

The problem with loading the deck with all-star talent is that they swamp the tracks, so that if not for his trademark nasal twang—which does become tiresome after a while—one might not know Peace On You was a Roger McGuinn album, even on the songs he did write, usually with Jacques Levy. Instead, it resembles Stephen Stills once he started to run out of gas, and maybe the same players had something to do with it. (The eventual Sundazed reissue added a bonus track in an earlier version of “Rock & Roll Time”, which would be redone two albums later.)

Roger McGuinn Peace On You (1974)—2
2004 Sundazed reissue: same as 1974, plus 1 extra track

Kiss 15: Creatures Of The Night

Somehow Kiss still had a recording contract, and since they didn’t know how to do anything else, they recorded another album. But while Ace Frehley was still depicted on the cover of Creatures Of The Night, and would appear in the first video, he didn’t play a note on the album. Among the ringers they brought in—including such odd choices as Robben Ford and Jimmy Haslip—was one Vincent Cusano, who was credited with co-writing three of the songs. He’d make his mark in an even more visible way soon enough.

For the first time in five years the band did what they did best, which was to rock out. And that they do, beginning with the title track, sneered by Paul Stanley. We hear a touch of keyboard, but not in a dated way. It’s a good thing lyrics were included on the inner sleeve, as we can barely understand what Gene Simmons is singing about on “Saint And Sinner”, and Paul has the same problem on “Keep Me Comin’”, but at least that has a catchy chorus despite the suggestion. “Rock And Roll Hell” is another collaboration with Bryan Adams and Jim Vallance—a joke that almost writes itself. “Danger” is a retread of the high-speed shuffle that drove “Love Gun”, and actually sounds like something that could have been on one of their older albums.

If anything would have sold the album, it was “I Love It Loud”, another statement of purpose for a band that already had several. From Eric Carr’s “Kashmir”-style drums to the chant, the simple chorus to Gene’s interjections, they managed to create another classic, complete with false fade and return. Only then can they insert the requisite ballad, this time in the form of “I Still Love You”, which Paul asserts for six minutes. The fast riffing and misogynistic lyrics of “Killer” reinstate their badassery, and “War Machine” is more mercenary posing from Gene.

While Creatures Of The Night wasn’t the return to commercial form they’d hoped it would be, the album still holds up. Once the band’s catalog started selling again, the Mercury label reissued it with a new cover that still didn’t accurately represent who played on it, while remixing and shifting a few tracks; the original cover was reinstated a decade later when the catalog was remastered.

The album’s 40th anniversary was a cause for celebration in some quarters, and the band delivered again. The Deluxe Edition added a smattering of demos, outtakes, and live tracks to the original mix. But true Kiss Army enlistees would have wanted the Super Deluxe five-CD box, which boasted two full discs of demos and outtakes (including the four new songs released everywhere but the U.S. on Killers) and two full discs of live recordings from the tour, culminating in nine minutes of assorted and indexed sound effects. The requisite Blu-ray had the Atmos and surround mixes of the album, which could be enjoyed while thumbing through the book and ephemera.

Kiss Creatures Of The Night (1982)—3
2022 40th Anniversary Deluxe Edition: same as 1982, plus 16 extra tracks (Super Deluxe Edition adds another 51 tracks plus Blu-ray)

Walter Becker 1: 11 Tracks Of Whack

Even more surprising than Donald Fagen re-emerging as a solo artist after a decade and promoting by touring with a reunited Steely Dan was Walter Becker releasing his first solo album. After all those years content to be the other guy in the band, 11 Tracks Of Whack—which perversely consists of 12 tracks—presents him as the vocalist for the first time. While he doesn’t have the distinct sneer his partner perfected, his voice is passable and not grating.

“Down In The Bottom” has a groove a lot like Big Audio Dynamite’s “Medicine Show”, and we mean that in a good way. “Junkie Girl” is a little slower, with a dark lyric and an expletive-laden chorus that belies its lazy lilt. “Surf And/Or Die” is even more elusive, with dense imagery in a barely sung litany. The keyboards and sax on “Book Of Liars” sound the most like Fagen should be singing, though he doesn’t, while “Lucky Henry” teeters on smooth jazz but for the busy meter and wailing, dueling guitar solos. And while “Hard Up Case” throws in some unexpected turns, it’s not much more than a prop for the hook in the chorus.

A marriage turned sour is approached with wry humor in “Cringemaker”, while “Girlfriend” is a complaint from a sad sack whining alone in front of his television. “My Waterloo” has something of a reggae feel, but the sameness of the content is starting to drag. Luckily “This Moody Bastard” is a better example of finger-pointing. The nuttiest tune by far is “Hat Too Flat”, sung by a visiting alien (presumably) from outer space, but maybe it’s an allegory) trying to fit in among ordinary English-speaking humans. “Little Kawai” is a sweet reprimand to a misbehaving imp that’s musically very close to John Cale’s “The Man Who Couldn’t Afford To Orgy”.

With co-production by Fagen, along with some keyboards and arrangements, and contributions from guitarist Dean Parks, 11 Tracks Of Whack is close enough to Steely Dan to appeal to fans. If they can just get past his voice.

Walter Becker 11 Tracks Of Whack (1994)—3

Joni Mitchell 29: Further Asylum Years

With excellent regularity, the Joni Mitchell Archive series stayed on a mostly consistent schedule, with the fourth box of unreleased material arriving roughly a year after the third (and a few months after a remastered set of the albums that mostly correspond to what’s covered here). Interestingly—or perversely—while the title says it encompasses the years 1976 through 1980, the music begins in November 1975 and ends in September 1979.

A good deal of the contents consists of live recordings, beginning with her tagging along on Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue, then continuing on her own tour to promote The Hissing Of Summer Lawns. She tries out some new material, including “Coyote”, on its own and in a medley with what would become the title track of Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter. (Rather than the now-familiar clip of her playing it at Gordon Lightfoot’s house, or even at The Last Waltz, she pulls out “Woman Of Heart And Mind”.) Most of a Boston show with the L.A. Express takes up the second disc, continued from the first, and it’s most interesting when she plays on her own. Nearly unplugged arrangements of “Shadows And Light” and “Harry’s House” are very nice, as are early performances of “Hejira” and “Talk To Me”. (Apparently the chicken noises were entrenched from the beginning.)

Fans of Hejira will drool over disc three, which begins with acoustic demos of seven of the album’s songs (Chaka Khan helps out on “Black Crow”) and three that would end up on the next. It goes on to include an intro and two songs from a stop on the second leg of the Rolling Thunder Revue, and ends with two rough mixes from the album sessions: “Refuge Of The Roads” with more horns (and without Jaco Pastorius) and “Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter”.

There are only two outtakes from the Don Juan sessions: a rough mix of “Otis And Marlena” and a 12-minute piano improvisation titled “Save Magic” that would form the basis of “Paprika Plains”. Then she was off to work with Charles Mingus, and we finally get to hear some lost sessions with such jazz legends as Tony Williams, Gerry Mulligan, Stanley Clarke, and John McLaughlin. One version of “Sweet Sucker Dance” is just drums and her layered vocals, while “A Good Suit And A Good Haircut” incorporates more of the man’s “raps”, and “Sue And The Holy River” is a lovely piano exploration. We also get to hear excerpts from a festival show where she played some of her new Mingus-infused compositions and collaborations in the occasional company of Herbie Hancock on grand as opposed to electric piano. “The Dry Cleaner From Des Moines” is a cappella and wonderful, and she encourages the audience to provide wolf noises to “The Wolf That Lives In Lindsay” while she tunes her guitar mid-performance, and they howl along with the tape too. (A session outtake provides a mix without the wolves.)

Most of the last two discs are devoted to a Forest Hills show in 1979, augmented by other appearances from the same tour, presenting something of an alternate Shadows And Light, but with a few songs that weren’t on that album. (“Jaco’s Solo” was one of those, probably because took a cacophonous, effects laden trip to Hendrix’s “Third Stone From The Sun”.)

This was Joni’s most challenging era yet for fans, certainly compared to the previous eight years of her public career, and the music within this set reflects that, as well as her descending range. Still, for those willing to dive further in, there are indeed gems to be found, as well as takes on more familiar material (two versions each of “Free Man In Paris” and “Help Me”, but three of “Big Yellow Taxi”). It’s fascinating to hear her create.

Joni Mitchell Archives—Volume 4: The Asylum Years (1976-1980) (2024)—3

John Cale 7: Helen Of Troy

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

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

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

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

John Cale Helen Of Troy (1975)—3

Jimi Hendrix 30: Electric Lady Studios

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

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

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

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

Neil Finn 8: Lightsleeper

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

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

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

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

Neil & Liam Finn Lightsleeper (2018)—3

Neil Young 72: Archives Vol. III

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, the 49-minute Sedan Delivery disc begins with a studio take of “Bright Sunny Day” with Crazy Horse, but the rest consists of side two of Rust Never Sleeps assorted with tracks from Live Rust, rather than any alternate performances or song selections. (For one, “Come On Baby Let’s Go Downtown” was played every night, and not included here. That said, both the new Boarding House film and a restored Rust Never Sleeps film are included on the Blu-rays.) Yes, the tracks chosen are presented in chronological order, recorded from four different concerts, but there’s no flow to the disc, save for ending with “Hey Hey, My My”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnote: the box was preceded by a promo disc called Archives Vol. III Takes, which offered a song each from 16 of the 17 discs in the set. As a sampler it’s alternately entertaining and frustrating; while it was a treat to hear “Lady Wingshot”, “Winter Winds”, and “If You Got Love” in decent quality, “Bright Sunny Day” and “Razor Love” were frankly underwhelming and the live versions not that unique. Plus, “Hitchhiker” came from the Hitchhikin’ Judy disc, which consisted of previously released material. Therefore, it accurately previewed the set as a whole.

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

Ringo Starr 8: Bad Boy

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

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

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

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

Ringo Starr Bad Boy (1978)—2