Tom Verlaine 3: Words From The Front

Always a literary guy, it’s easy to try to read some kind of significance into the songs on Tom Verlaine’s third solo album. Words From The Front is firmly in the template he established once Television was over, and there are enough elements that still recall their work. We’re still not sure if we’re missing anything.

That doesn’t necessarily apply to “Present Arrived”, which holds onto one riff no matter how hard he tries to shake it, under lyrics best described as minimalist. “Postcard From Waterloo” could be about the aftermath of a battle or a romance, and it does have a sweet chorus, with his typically strangulated vocal. That voice is pretty much buried in “True Story” to the point where the lyrics come off more onomatopoetic, and “Clear It Away” is very sparse with staccato parts, but striking imagery.

The title track is clearly a soldier’s plaint, somber but not too dirgey, particularly when it spirals up into one hell of a guitar solo. “Coming Apart” is another relentless riff saved by the solo, but the structure of the song is too similar to “Ain’t That Nothin’”, which he should have noticed. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. The final nine minutes on the album are devoted to “Days On The Mountain”, which has a consistent, almost Euro-trash rhythm, faraway vocals, guitars that start out noodling but eventually coalesce, and Lene Lovich on saxophone.

Words From The Front is more a collection of jammed ideas than developed songs. Being 1982, there’s a lot of reverb in the production, making it sound like it was recorded in a small yet shiny room. It shimmers and doesn’t grate, which is just fine. But it’s not essential.

Tom Verlaine Words From The Front (1982)—3

Izzy Stradlin: Ju Ju Hounds

After fourteen or so year of putting up with Axl Rose, Izzy Stradlin had had it, and left Guns N’ Roses shortly after the Use Your Illusion albums came out. While the band stumbled around the world promoting the albums, Izzy quietly put together a band of his own, tapping Rick Richards of the Georgia Satellites on lead guitar, journeyman bass player Jimmy Ashhurst, and respected drummer Charlie Quintana. MTV News aired the first preview of the band, playing a song highlighting his raspy voice that strangely would not be included on the full-length Izzy Stradlin and the Ju Ju Hounds album.

While there are some nods to punk and reggae, the Stones and the Faces are the clear influence here, and not just because Ian McLagan plays organ on half the album. “Somebody Knockin’” and “Cuttin’ The Rug” aren’t that far removed from the new Keith Richards album, whereas “Train Tracks” is dominated by heavy slide. “Time Gone By” and “How Will It Go” lean on acoustics and mandolins for a more rootsy sound, but the clear highlight of the album is the single “Shuffle It All”, opening with a cool bass line that runs through much of six minutes. Too bad we can’t make out most of the lyrics. “Bucket O’ Trouble” is near speed metal that Axl might have enjoyed if he bothered to listen to it, while “Pressure Drop” is given a revved-up treatment faster than even the Clash, with a half-time coda that’s slower than the Specials. The cover of Ron Wood’s “Take A Look At The Guy”, with the auteur himself yelling along, serves only to make Izzy’s own voice sound that much more melodic, but it does extend the moody ending, which was faded on the original. Nicky Hopkins and the Waters Sisters are brought in for the sleepy ballad “Come On Now Inside” that closes the album. (Stuck at the end is a hidden track called “Morning Tea”, which is mostly two minutes of tribal drums with some melodic feedback low in the mix.)

Despite good reviews and whatever momentum GN’R had, the album got somewhat lost in an industry being dominated by grunge and in between Black Crowes albums. While the band did tour behind it, Izzy cancelled a bunch of dates because, well, he just didn’t like touring anymore. Six years would go by before he released a follow-up and was dropped from the label, and since the turn of the century he’s released further albums, usually via iTunes, and joined up with the evolving Guns N’ Roses on fleeting occasions, always leaving as abruptly as he’d emerged. Wherever he is now, he’s probably enjoying the peace and quiet.

Izzy Stradlin and the Ju Ju Hounds Izzy Stradlin and the Ju Ju Hounds (1992)—3

Rush 28: Rush 50

Once Rush retired from touring, they continued to preserve their legacy on the shelves. Roughly each year, another album got repackaged in a 40th anniversary edition with snazzy artwork and ephemera, and expanded with timely live recordings, beginning with 2112 through to Moving Pictures. (The program seemingly ground to a thud with the Signals upgrade, which had no musical extras.) Neil Peart’s death in 2020 put an end to the band for good, but surely they would do something for their 50th anniversary, having already celebrated their 30th and 40th in grand style?

Rush 50 is a career-spanning 50-track box, available in four CDs or seven LPs, each with a hardcover book. (A limited Super Deluxe Edition added a second hardcover book and exclusive lithographs.) Considering how many times their songs have been anthologized over the years, they had to do something to make it special for anyone buying the music again, and they did. The set begins with both sides of their first single making their digital debut: a tepid cover of “Not Fade Away” and the extremely average “You Can’t Fight It”. These songs had long been disowned by the band, and now you can hear why. An alternate “Working Man” precedes two songs from the first album performed at a high school gig, then there is a big difference once Neil’s on the kit with live versions of “Anthem”, the oft-performed-in-those-days “Garden Road”, and a funky interpretation of Larry Williams’ “Bad Boy” with some ridiculous stereo panning during the guitar solo.

From there it’s a pretty orderly stroll through the catalog, basically a song from each studio album and one or two each from the live ones, both the eleven original releases and the 40th anniversary editions. This fills up the second disc and part of the third pretty well, but the next two discs race through three decades. “The Trees” is an alternate version with a different guitar solo, and “One Little Victory” is the remixed version, but everything else is standard. Neil has two indexed drum solos in the set, as well as the extended break in “YYZ” from Exit… Stage Left, but of all the songs to choose from Presto, why “Superconductor”? The journey ends with the “What You're Doing/Working Man/Garden Road” medley, the last eleven minutes from the last-ever Rush concert.

It may not be the best place to start, but Rush 50 does deliver over four hours of solid, representative music—“Superconductor” aside. Fans have to have it, even if they won’t listen to it as much as they would other compilations.

Rush Rush 50 (2025)—4

Aerosmith 1: Aerosmith

Easily the ugliest band in rock ‘n roll for many years, Aerosmith started out as a ragtag gang of Stones and Yardbirds disciples. They weren’t immediately anything special, as it would be a long time before their actual musical pedigrees would become apparent. Meanwhile, Joe Perry and Brad Whitford’s guitars interwove and complemented each other, Tom Hamilton and Joey Kramer locked in as a solid rhythm section to deliver the “stank” singer Steve Tyler—already an accomplished drummer and pianist—insisted on.

Tyler’s voice isn’t quite in place on their eponymous debut, when you can hear it. “Make It” is something of a thesis for the band, with lots of chordal riffs and stock cymbal hits, and the guitars echoing the vocals. “Somebody” is more of a boogie, but not an obvious one. “Dream On” was the insistent single that eventually gave them a hit years after the album was first released. Not quite a power ballad, the combination of guitars playing in unison with an electric harpsichord over Mellotron strings laid something of a mystical framework, and eventually Tyler stops trying to croon and just screams. “One Way Street” has a lot of jazzy chords that make it much more than a “Midnight Rambler” cop, even if it does run long at seven minutes, over which the poor guys had to clap.

“Mama Kin” is the sleeper here, beginning with a few killer riffs for a full minute before the vocal comes in, rhyming “see it” with “shee-it”, and a chorus that extols “sleeping late and smoking tea”. The saxophone is mixed low, and doesn’t spoil it. “Write Me A Letter” keeps the party choogling, and Tyler allows himself to loosen up and explore his upper range. However, “Movin’ Out” proves that he’s no blues man; the drums are all over the place, but the song does improve as it proceeds. And they certainly bring the dirt to “Walkin’ The Dog”, which they probably got off the first Stones album. At least he doesn’t bark.

The production is muddy throughout Aerosmith, and not just in the buried vocals. But while they weren’t quite there, it does give the band a place to build on what they started. “Dream On” and “Mama Kin” were enough to get kids to buy the album, after which it was firmly lodged in countless cars’ 8-track players.

Aerosmith Aerosmith (1973)—3

Jimmy Page 4: Live At The Greek

Clearly, without Robert Plant, Jimmy Page was at loose ends. Following their most recent short-lived collaboration, he took Puff Daddy’s money so the “rap genius” could write new words to the “Kashmir” backing track for a movie soundtrack. Then he hooked up with the Black Crowes for a brief and eventually truncated tour wherein they played mostly Zeppelin songs with a few blues standards and some Crowes songs as well. The matchup, while promising, was doomed; Chris Robinson’s ego got in the way of his gratitude, but even stupider, Rich Robinson snubbed Jimmy’s offer of riffs and ideas to collaborate on new songs. (Drummer Steve Gorman left the band soon afterwards, and his account of the Page experience is as astonishing as it is maddening.)

Nonetheless, selections from two of the LA shows were released rather quickly as one of the first “on-demand” Internet offerings, then given wider distribution as a double-CD via the TVT label. Subtitled Excess All Areas in its first incarnation, Live At The Greek is notable in that it focuses more on the deep cuts than greatest hits. There’s no “Stairway” or “Kashmir”, but healthy dollops from Physical Graffiti and unexpected choices like “Hey Hey What Can I Do” and “Your Time Is Gonna Come”. Blues covers include tunes by B.B. King, Jimmy Rogers, Elmore James, the Jeff Beck Group arrangement of “Shapes Of Things”, and most surprisingly, Fleetwood Mac’s “Oh Well”. For a guy who says he was never really into Robert Plant’s vocals or lyrics, Chris Robinson certainly did his homework. Jimmy was definitely having fun, and with two extra guitarists and a keyboard player onstage, the sound is certainly filled in. (25 years later, the album was expanded to three discs to encompass a complete show or at least its equivalent, now including the Crowes staples that were left off the original album for licensing reasons, three further LZ songs, and five songs from a soundcheck—one of which is mostly them working out the harmonized guitar parts in “Ten Years Gone”, followed by a ten-minute jam.)

We want Jimmy to be happy, of course, so it’s a shame that his talents hadn’t resulted in more than a handful of albums with new music since Zeppelin disbanded. Being stuck playing in his own cover band may have brought in some cash, but what did it do for his creativity?

Jimmy Page & The Black Crowes Live At The Greek (2000)—3
2025 expanded reissue: same as 2000, plus 16 extra tracks

Jayhawks 8: Ready For The Flood

While it didn’t have the impact or import of a reunion of the Jam, the Clash, or the Smiths, it was still a Big Deal in alt.countryland when Mark Olson and Gary Louris collaborated on a new album. (Jeff Tweedy and Jay Farrar could not be reached for comment.) Olson had done several albums with wife Victoria Williams in the Original Harmony Ridge Creekdippers while Louris kept the Jayhawks afloat until 2003. Now that Olson was divorced and Louris had a good thing going in the studio with Chris Robinson, Ready For The Flood happened.

There’s a nice flow to the album. “Rose Society” is mostly unplugged, then “Bicycle” adds a little twang, and “Turn Your Pretty Name Around” has a striking opening line in “Then came disappointment.” “Saturday Morning On Sunday Street” is a little too wordy and close, but a distant organ adds a Memphis touch to “Kick The Wood”, turned up on “Chamberlain, SD”. They get quiet again on “Black Eyes”, but the message is muddled by their phrasing, which consistently sounds like “black guys”.

“Doves And Stones” has those harmonies that fans adore, with yet another abstract lyric that defies interpretation. “My Gospel Song For You” is just plain forlorn, and while “When The Wind Comes Up” starts out desolate, it tries to find hope in the choruses. Of similar pioneer stock is “Bloody Hands”, the banjo adding to the old-timey Americana feel. “Life’s Warm Sheets” is a fairly unique way to tell people to look on the bright side, particularly when followed by the end-of-life wail in “The Trap’s Been Set”.

Some of these songs had been kicking around for a while—including the bonus tracks “Cotton Dress” and “Precious Time”—but some appear to be new. Folks looking for another Hollywood Town Hall or Tomorrow The Green Grass might be disappointed, as the album is more akin to a low-key strum. But the harmonies are rich, and the steel strings shine and shimmer throughout. And because the songs are, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for anyone to add a louder rhythm section and a little distortion. That’s what happens when songs are so well-constructed to begin with.

Mark Olson & Gary Louris Ready For The Flood (2009)—3

Crowded House 8: Dreamers Are Waiting

After ten years on his own and with others, Neil Finn decided the time was ripe to revive Crowded House. Again. Along with stalwart bass player and cover designer Nick Seymour, the other residents this time were his sons Liam and Elroy, who’d proved their worth with their dad as well as on their own. In another link to the past, Mitchell Froom was brought in as an official member on keyboards; the production on Dreamers Are Waiting is credited to the band as a collective, but his boomy tendencies still prevail.

“Bad Times Good” lopes along with a mild island feel in 5/4 time for a tense yet tentative opener, then “Playing With Fire” has shades of lockdown in the lyrics and more edginess in the instrumentation. There’s a direct segue to the moody, wacky “To The Island”, but “Sweet Tooth”, with its scratchy rhythm guitars, finally sounds closer to the band of old. “Whatever You Want” keeps the electricity on, and it’s clear the younger Finns like odd meters, but “Show Me The Way” is another one that sounds like it takes place under water, or at least floating on it.

It takes a certain amount of quirk to place a title like “Goodnight Everyone” smack dab in the middle, but there we are, still bobbing on the waves. “Too Good For This World” works a lot of avian imagery and metaphors into a message entailing flight and escape, just as the downer lyrics in “Start Of Something” belie the sunny melody. “Real Life Woman” offers comfort in familiarity and not sounding like everything else here, particularly towards the end where the band breaks out of its straightjacket. “Love Isn’t Hard At All” provides even more relief, even it does incorporate the music most of us know as the Tetris theme. We’re surely not the first ones to notice that the chorus of “Deeper Down” sounds like more recent McCartney, and that’s not a bad thing at all.

But the sum is greater than the parts, and even if Crowded House is now more a brand name than a statement of purpose, Dreamers Are Waiting follows logically along Neil Finn’s trajectory. As with the last revamp, any further activity should not be considered guaranteed. Folks hoping for a return to the sound of the original lineup will be disappointed, but those who’ve kept up should be pleased.

Crowded House Dreamers Are Waiting (2021)—3

Kinks 31: The Road

Perhaps to maximize their investment in the band, their newish labels decided that the second album they’d release in the Kinks’ contract would be a live one, recorded on the tour in support of Think Visual. This could certainly be considered an astute commercial move, but somebody decided it should be titled Live: The Road. While it did lead off with a brand new studio song of the same title, this was only eight years after their previous live album, and of a very similar moniker.

We’ve lost count of how many songs Ray Davies had already written and released concerning the drudgery of touring. But “The Road” does have its charms, beginning wistfully, then picking up speed and giving something of an affectionate history of the band, namedropping here and there, and referencing well-known song titles. At six minutes it crams a lot of ideas in, but it’s not as embarrassing as it could be. And considering the band now consisted of only two original members with three dedicated supporting players, it’s nice to hear Pete Quaife and Mick Avory get mentioned.

From there the album presents a smattering of songs from the ‘80s—with the exception of “Apeman”—recorded not at stadiums but “outdoor pavilions”, which was the size of their draw by then. “Destroyer” features a lot of added asides from Ray, playing with and around the lyrics. Dave gets the spotlight on side two with “Living On A Thin Line”, but the other draw—if you can call it that—for collectors is “It (I Want It)”, a truly strange hodgepodge of styles beginning with Reagan and Gorbachev soundbites and devolving into a diatribe against a consumerist housewife.

Overall, the album is enjoyable but hardly legendary. If it got more people to go to see them live, then mission accomplished. But it didn’t sell, and hit used bins before dropping out of print.

The Kinks Live: The Road (1988)—3

Benmont Tench 1: You Should Be So Lucky

In addition to spending several decades supporting Tom Petty, Benmont Tench was a very busy session player, showing up whenever somebody needed steady piano or organ. And while he often provided backing vocals onstage and in the studio for Tom Petty, as far as we know he didn’t bother taking a lead vocal until the Mudcrutch album. An occasional cowrite dots his career, but You Should Be So Lucky was his first album under his own name, and one where he wrote (most of) the songs. The album was recorded relatively quickly, with the legendary Glyn Johns at the helm, and backing from young songwriting phenom and session man Blake Mills, as well as his son Ethan Johns, with Don Was and Jeremy Stacey as the rhythm section.

“Today I Took Your Picture Down” is an understated beginning, with enough Dylan and Petty influences to make it work. He straps on a guitar himself for “Veronica Said”, a mildly swampy story with Warren Zevon echoes, balanced well by “Ecor Rouge”, a moody, mildly jazzy instrumental, with a string quartet deep in the mix. “Hannah” is just as soft, and nearly as lovely. Tom himself shows up only once, playing bass on “Blonde Girl, Blue Dress” that also features Ringo Starr on tambourine, and able support from Gillian Welch and David Rawlings. The title track is a grungy stomper with a garage vibe and foul language, and barely discernible harmonies from Ryan Adams.

His electric piano carries “Corrina Corrina”, the arrangement pointedly credited to Bob Dylan; Gillian and David show up there, and again on “Dogwood”, driven by his own acoustic guitar. “Like The Sun (Michoacan)” has a bit of a 12-string jangle, followed by “Wobbles”, another instrumental, this time beginning with a lazy south-of-the-border feel that grows dynamically. “Why Don’t You Quit Leavin Me Alone” reminds us of some of Randy Newman’s heartstring-tuggers, and another hidden gem. But he saves a lot of his energy for “Duquesne Whistle”, from what was then Dylan’s most recent album.

Overall, You Should Be So Lucky shows Benmont to be an excellent songwriter, even if he doesn’t have a strong enough voice to carry the tunes. Country singers should be mining these seeds; meanwhile, we’d happily listen to more of the instrumentals.

Benmont Tench You Should Be So Lucky (2014)—3

Kiss 16: Lick It Up

After nearly a decade in the business, Kiss had to do something, since their albums weren’t automatic sellers. So they decided it was time to finally ditch the makeup that had been their most distinctive trademark. In keeping with the times, their barefaced look was unveiled via the video for the title track of the new album. Those of us who hadn’t been keeping up with the lineup were surprised that Ace was as ugly as he looked; it turned out that wasn’t Ace but new lead guitarist Vinnie Vincent (née Cusano), who’d only had to wear the “ankh” design on his face for a mercifully short time.

Lick It Up was even more back-to-basics musically, as the songwriting credits were restricted to the four band members, and Vincent prominently. Vocals were evenly split between Paul and Gene, and nearly every song has a unique riff.

“Exciter” leaps out of the speakers with a more modern rhythm than their sludgier moments of the past, but still tight. Speaking of sludge, Gene’s voice is pretty muddy on the marauding “Not For The Innocent”. In context, the still-misogynistic title track sounds pretty tame, particularly when Gene comes back to yell his way through “Young And Wasted” against the jackhammer rhythm. “Gimme More” is more Stanley-by-numbers, as prescribed.

“All Hell’s Breakin’ Loose” opens with another riff kids would be trying to figure out next to their stereos, but is nearly spoiled by Paul’s not-quite-rapped vocal on the verses. “A Million To One” is the first you-done-me-wrong love-lost song, though Paul doesn’t quite connect the hook with the message. But that’s okay, because Gene is back to flex his manhood on “Fits Like A Glove” and threaten some “bitch” (his word, not ours) on “Dance All Over Your Face”. And after an intro that’s a pretty good imitation of Quadrophenia, they assure us in “And On The 8th Day” that “God created rock ‘n roll.”

With Lick It Up Kiss became just another hard ‘n heavy rock band. Helped along by the rise of hair metal in the ‘80s, they kept selling albums while cycling through one lead guitarist after another. Their brand remains as strong today as ever, just as their fans—who have since spawned generations of diehard converts—have remained loyal.

Kiss Lick It Up (1983)—3

Todd Rundgren 32: Johnson

While Todd Rundgren professes to have a blues background, like most white American kids in the ‘60s, he found out about Robert Johnson via the British blues players who revered him. Supposedly when the label who distributed his last album got a hold of some of the rights to Johnson’s music, they strongly suggested Todd cover them. Never one to shy away from a dare, he did, resulting in the embarrassingly titled Todd Rundgren’s Johnson. (It was previewed by a digital EP called Todd Rundgren’s Short Johnson.)

If you want to hear Todd wail on the guitar, this is the album for you. Keep in mind you’ll also have to hear him sing the tunes, and not very convincingly. Naturally he played all the instruments—save Kasim Sulton on bass—which means there are lots of boomy drums, which worked on Arena, but just sound bloated here. While the opening “Dust My Broom” isn’t bad, even though it doesn’t use the patented riff, the rest simply wear out the novelty. Some of the more familiar songs already exist in definitive remakes by the Stones, Zeppelin, and yes, the Blues Brothers. Eric Clapton himself waited forty years before tackling this material in bulk, and even the Red Hot Chili Peppers knew “They’re Red Hot” was supposed to be fun. The cover art wasn’t much better; when the album was re-released eleven years later it used a more attractive albeit anachronistic image, and wisely changed the title to just Johnson.

The album wasn’t a complete surprise to Todd lifers, as he’d played many of them on tour a year before, but with the reliable Prairie Prince and Jesse Gress joining Sulton in the band. One of the shows was recorded and filmed before a devout audience and eventually released as Todd Rundgren’s Johnson Live in a CD/DVD package. The Johnson renditions aren’t much better than what made the album, but hearing an actual drummer interplay with the other members (sorry) is certainly preferable. The bonus is that the setlist includes guitar-focused originals from his own career, including “Kiddie Boy” from the second Nazz album, “Bleeding” from his second solo album, and even “I Saw The Light”. (The DVD, which we haven’t viewed, added more Rundgren originals.)

Todd Rundgren Todd Rundgren’s Johnson (2011)—2
Todd Rundgren Todd Rundgren’s Johnson Live (2013)—2½

CSN 14: Live At Fillmore East

The big question wasn’t so much why this came out when it did as what took them so long. Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young had been playing gigs for only a few months when they did a stint at New York’s Fillmore East. (Ten days after these shows, Crosby’s live-in girlfriend would be dead in a car accident, just as they began recording what would become Déjà Vu.)

For decades, 4 Way Street was the only comprehensive live document, captured just as they were starting to fray and splinter. Culled from the two shows on the second night of the stand, Live At Fillmore East is structured the same way, but goes back to the beginning, with the original rhythm section of Dallas Taylor and Greg Reeves still on board.

The debut album was still new at these shows, and the joy of singing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” is as fresh as their excitement over what they could do with the Beatles’ “Blackbird”. They can’t help but giggle their way through “Helplessly Hoping”, but calm down a bit for “Guinnevere”. “Lady Of The Island” nicely highlights the Crosby-Nash blend, then Stephen previews “Go Back Home” and “4+20”, with Neil coming out for “On The Way Home” in between. (Only Stephen knows the words, as the other two haven’t figured out what to add yet.) Graham plays “Our House” at the organ—you can just hear the slightest high-hat in the back—and it’s cute, but a little jarring. A few people in the crowd recognize “I’ve Loved Her So Long”, and Graham adds a nice part before they all join in on “You Don’t Have To Cry”.

The wooden portion over, it’s time to rock. “Long Time Gone” and “Wooden Ships” are duly played with Neil and Stephen goading each other. After a drop in volume, “Bluebird Revisited” is a nice surprise from a 55-year perspective. “Sea Of Madness” should be familiar from its strange appearance on the Woodstock 2 compilation, and “Down By The River” runs over 16 minutes, in an initially more intricate version, for lack of a better word than any Crazy Horse rendition. And since you can’t end a CSNY concert without “Find The Cost Of Freedom”, that’s how the disc ends.

The album is dedicated to David Crosby, and brings the listener as well as the artists back to a time when they could still get lost in the wonder of music without too much of the egos getting in the way. In addition to hearing Graham yell “yeah!” after nearly every song, the other three each contribute paragraphs of appreciation to help drive it home. Given the potential, it’s just a shame they didn’t include both shows, complete.

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young Live At Fillmore East, 1969 (2024)—3½

Mick Jagger 7: SuperHeavy

Here at Everybody’s Dummy we like to think we’re at least up to date on the musical activities of artists we’ve reviewed in bulk. That’s no excuse for why we remain oblivious to so, so many other things, but somehow this alleged supergroup featuring Mick Jagger completely passed us by. Hands up if you’d heard of—much less heard—SuperHeavy before reading this paragraph. Okay, good to know.

The project may have descended from Mick’s soundtrack to the Alfie remake, which was a collaboration with the mildly parasitic David A. Stewart and featured contributions from British belter Joss Stone. This odd trio got together a few years later with Damian “Jr. Gong” Marley (Bob’s youngest acknowledged offspring) and composer A.R. Rahman, probably most famous for the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack. The result was an album that mixed trip-hop with Jamaican and Indian influences, which the Los Angeles Times came just short of calling a “cross-cultural trainwreck.” (Rolling Stone loved it, of course.)

We don’t want to begrudge Mick trying to stretch, but reggae was always Keith’s territory. Wisely, he lets Damian rattle off the high-speed toasting, and Joss does most of the overemoting. But he himself is mostly reduced to yelling melodically instead of singing, as displayed on “One Day One Night”. “Energy” certainly displays some Stonesy grit once you get past the synths, but “I Can’t Take It No More” is another socio-political rant from one of the world’s richest men, and a knight to boot, mostly notable for Joss’s opening f-bomb. (She’s more suited to the humanist plea of “World Keeps Turning”, if you like that sort of thing.) “Never Gonna Change” is a country-gospel near-weeper sung all by himself, and he sure gets into enunciating the Sanskrit of “Satyameva Jayathe”.

Those who have to have more would spring for the deluxe edition, which boasts four extra tracks. But overall, SuperHeavy is neither super nor heavy, and that’s probably why they haven’t been heard from since.

SuperHeavy SuperHeavy (2011)—2

Graham Nash 10: Now

While he hadn’t suddenly scaled a prolific streak comparable to that of erstwhile partner David Crosby, it was something of a surprise to get a new Graham Nash within ten years of the last one. Now finds him in his eighties, supported by his stalwart touring band, with a state-of-the-Graham address that’s immediately engaging.

His subject matter has barely mutated since 1970—you know, love and politics, not that we’d expect anything different—so there are no bonus points for guessing what “Stars And Stripes”, “Love Of Mine”, or “Follow Your Heart” address. Still, “Right Now” and “Golden Idols” have a spark and tension that have been missing since the Crosby-Nash albums with The Section backing them up, while “A Better Life” and “It Feels Like Home” are more country-tinged sentiments. “Stand Up” loads on some tasty guitars for a fairly pedestrian message, and then there’s “Buddy’s Back”, a reverie in the style of Buddy Holly sung with Hollies mate Allan Clarke. A string quartet provides “Theme From Pastoral”, one of Alan Price’s pieces for the cult film O Lucky Man!, and they continue on the sentimental “In A Dream”, but its use on “I Watched It All Come Down” seems odd, given that it addresses his feelings about the collapse of CSN. It’s followed by the closing piano ballad of “When It Comes To You”.

Now isn’t earth-shaking, but he still sounds good. With the exception of Allan Clarke on that one song, all the vocals are his, and he harmonizes well with himself.

Graham Nash Now (2023)—3

Stephen Stills 16: Live At Berkeley

Following the release of his second solo album, Stephen Stills embarked on an ambitious tour that he hoped would not only encompass his musical palate, but further establish him as a singular force with which to be reckoned. Along with four guys who would continue with him in Manassas, another guitarist plus a sax player and the five Memphis Horns filled out the sound even more. Reports say he booked 52 dates, and even he says he handled the pressure of his setlists by getting good and drunk before every show.

Luckily for us, the performances picked from the final two shows on Live At Berkeley 1971 aren’t embarrassing in the least. It also helps that these were theater shows, more intimate and forgiving than the hockey arenas played earlier on the tour. He begins acoustically, where he’s accompanied by Steve Fromholz on guitar and vocals. Proof that CSN wasn’t dead in the water, David Crosby is brought out for “You Don’t Have To Cry” (Fromholz filling in well) and his own “The Lee Shore”. He moves to the piano for a very nice “Sugar Babe” and the now-familiar “49 Bye-Byes/America’s Children” medley, and straps on a banjo for “Know You Got To Run”. The full band comes on for “Bluebird Revisited”, which burns pretty slow compared to Wayne Jackson’s “Lean On Me”. “Cherokee” runs almost ten minutes, plenty of time for the band to cook.

The sound throughout is clear and warm. Considering that it captures a moment in his career before things changed and would change again, this set goes a long way to remind us how good Stills could be when he got out of his own way and just played. One does wonder what they left out.

Stephen Stills Live At Berkeley 1971 (2023)—3½

Peter Gabriel 15: i/o

And you thought ten years was a long wait between Peter Gabriel albums! Not long after Up finally appeared, he said he was already working on a follow-up. There began years of speculation and waiting that turned into decades. It wasn’t until early 2023 that, he finally started releasing music that he said would constitute the long-promised i/o, with a tour to match. At the turn of every full moon, a new song would be released via streaming in a variety of “Bright-Side” and “Dark-Side” mixes, while further variations on each were made available to members of his official Full Moon Club. This was a uniquely modern way to release new music that led us old folks to wonder if an album would ever exist in format like we used to know.

As it turned out, and in a demonstration of his pathological indecisiveness, the album did finally appear at the year’s end, in a CD package that included a disc of the songs in each mix. (Each mix was also released in separate vinyl packages, while a Blu-ray offered both mixes plus the “In-Side” Dolby Atmos mix. Or you could get a box set with everything.) All of this was a lot for anyone not the artist to get his or her head around, especially when it came down to the real meat of the issue: the songs themselves.

“Panopticom” has the rare distinction of beginning a Peter Gabriel at volume, rather than mysteriously emerging from silence. It’s set apart by its repeating motif, with a prominent acoustic guitar, even its ideal of a global data resource that becomes more ominous with every passing week. “The Court” addresses the idea of justice, and he makes some interesting rhymes, even if they recall those of “Steam”; the coda is the highlight of the song. “Playing For Time” takes the volume down to just piano and orchestra for the most part, not far removed from “That’ll Do”—an intentional move, so he says, and it’s quite nice. The title track follows on quietly at first, ruminating on connection, getting more energy in the choruses. A collaboration with producer Richard Russell, “Four Kinds Of Horses” is very dark, particularly in its Dark-Side incarnation, a strong contrast to “Road To Joy”, which bubbles along its groove until the abrupt end complete with sound effects (no spoilers here).

“So Much” is a quiet reflection on aging, with a few wince-inducing metaphors, but still heartfelt. We’re still on the fence about “Olive Tree”; no matter the mix, the cheesy horns over the choruses distract from the mood of the verses. Despite its somber tone, underscored by the cello, “Love Can Heal” is a plea of hope, inspired by an assassination, whereas “This Is Home” finds comfort on a more personal level. “And Still” is the longest song on an album already full of contenders. It’s rather unsettling as it progresses, but another cello solo helps raise it out of the murk. (People forget that he’s played the piano for much of his solo career—well, we do, anyway—and it’s rather adept here.) Another grand plea for peace rounds off the album. Building steadily from a seed to a big sound, “Live And Let Live” is a nice idea, of course, but the ears that need to hear it won’t. Maybe if it didn’t take so long to make its point. (The Dark-Side mix adds a whole 25 seconds to the album.)

Even with all that tinkering, there are no timeless classics to be found within any version of i/o. There’s a lot of sameness throughout, both within the album and in echoes of his earlier albums. We find ourselves going back to the quieter, beat-less songs, in either mix, as they seem less derivative of things we’ve heard before. Among the two dozen musicians, core contributors David Rhodes, Tony Levin, and Manu Katché make their mark, so it’s nice to concentrate on them, while Brian Eno contributes to six tracks. It is a simply pleasant album when you’ve got an hour or so to kill. At this rate, we don’t expect he will follow it up with anything remotely major.

Peter Gabriel i/o (2023)—3

Ringo Starr 9: Stop And Smell The Roses

After limping through the end of one decade, Ringo was determined to start the ‘80s on a high. First, he took a starring role in the unfortunate prehistoric comedy Caveman, which did have the indisputable bonus of introducing him to actress Barbara Bach, to whom he is still married to this day. Then he set to reviving his recording career just like he did in 1973: by asking his former bandmates and a few other famous friends for help. (John’s murder meant only two other ex-Beatles would be involved in the finished product.) He even played the drums on every track.

By the time the album was ready, the label that put out Ringo’s last album lost interest, so he ended up on another new imprint that happened to be founded by the guy behind Casablanca Records. Even they forced him to change a few songs (just as what had happened to George) as well as the original title of Can’t Fight Lightning before Stop And Smell The Roses finally appeared to much fanfare.

Paul’s first contribution, the inoffensive if tossed-off “Private Property”, opens the album, with lots of sax from Howie Casey and Linda on harmonies. (Of course, by the time the album came out Wings had been disbanded. Adding insult to injury, Laurence Juber’s name was misspelled three times.) It’s immediately bettered by George’s “Wrack My Brain”, goofy enough for Ringo but grumpy enough for its auteur; it was also the first single, promoted by a video that continued his fascination with monster movies. Harry Nilsson could have used a boost himself at this time, but “Drumming Is My Madness” doesn’t do either of them any favors, and why is there a flute solo? “Attention” is another piano-based Paul knock-off that’s good enough for Ringo, but Nilsson’s “Stop And Take The Time To Smell The Roses” somehow manages to succeed, even as a co-write. (This too got a goofy video to match the nutty sound effects on the track itself.)

“Dead Giveaway” is a collaboration with Ron Wood that could use more balls, even with the presence of two of the Crusaders; still, this is one occasion where Ringo sings better than his co-writer. But who knew Woody could play sax? It wouldn’t be a Ringo album without at least one oldie, and “You Belong To Me” (aka “see the pyramids along [sic] the Nile”) is George’s other production here, taken at a “You’re Sixteen” pace. Carl Perkins’ “Sure To Fall (In Love With You)” was a favorite of Paul’s, who produced this pure country version with copious harmonies and prominent pedal steel. Stephen Stills showed up to contribute “You’ve Got A Nice Way”, which might have made helped improve one of his own albums, but it doesn’t work for this singer. And not only was there no need to remake “Back Off Boogaloo” disco-style, but Nilsson felt compelled to overdub a bunch of lines from other songs a la his version of “You Can’t Do That”. Even more confusing is that it begins with the riff from “It Don’t Come Easy”.

In addition to the promo clips, which got the occasional airing on the new MTV cable channel, Ringo got Paul to collaborate with him on a baffling short film called The Cooler, which not very many people saw or understood, even though it utilized Paul’s productions from the album. Despite all the push and Beatle involvement, the public at large did not take the time to Stop And Smell The Roses. While it was definitely an improvement over the last few, only diehard fans were sticking around, even for the half-hour it took to hear it.

But by the end of the decade, bootlegs had started appearing with outtakes from the sessions, somewhat stoking the legend of a lost Ringo album. The compilers of its first official CD release were kind enough to include detailed liner notes about the creation of the album, as well as the rejected songs among the bonus tracks. Honestly, they’re not that bad; “Wake Up” and the admittedly plodding “You Can’t Fight Lightning” are Ringo originals produced by Stills and McCartney respectively, while “Brandy” is a nice version of the O’Jays song produced with Ron Wood. Stills brought “Red And Black Blues” to the sessions, but it was never considered for any version of the album. A rough mix of “Stop And Take The Time To Smell The Roses” and two minutes of Ringo reading gun control PSAs don’t add much. But at least they spelled Laurence Juber’s name right.

Ringo Starr Stop And Smell The Roses (1981)—2½
1994 Right Stuff reissue: same as 1981, plus 6 extra tracks

Steely Dan 9: Alive In America

For most of their career, Steely Dan were strictly a studio band, having eschewed touring as soon as they could. Now it was 20 years later, both Donald Fagen and Walter Becker had solo albums to promote, and technology had caught up with their perfectionism to the point where they could hire sidemen (and women) to replicate their pristine album tracks onstage for those with the disposable income required to watch and hear them do it.

Alive In America was compiled from two of these ‘90s tours—Peter Erskine drummed on the first, Dennis Chambers played on the second—and presents over an hour of music in a seamless blend by long-suffering engineer Roger Nichols. As would be expected, everything is presented well, with the only real surprise being the inclusion of “Book Of Liars” from Becker’s album. “Sign In Stranger” has different lyrics on the bridge and something of an extended interlude, “Reelin’ In The Years” sports a vamped intro that disguises the song before the crowd recognizes it, and “Third World Man” is taken even slower. Hot as these players are, we’d still rather listen to the version of “Bodhisattva” that was the belated B-side to “Hey Nineteen”. Still, to finally get to hear these songs performed live for what was then the first time would be a thrill for fans. (Outside of the head-scratching cover, the packaging is suitably sardonic, from the song comments—helpful for identifying which guitarist or horn player gets to solo—to the “Howl” parody.)

While Steely Dan would continue to tour, even becoming something of a fixture on the road, they wouldn’t release another live album for another 25 years, after Walter had passed on and Donald was still pounding the boards against the wishes and financial claims of his former partner’s estate. He was nice enough to dedicate Northeast Corridor: Steely Dan Live!, exclamation point and all, to Walter. While the band was completely different this time out, and he’s even more nasal than ever, the album repeats half of Alive In America, with little varying from the token arrangements, save maybe the new coda to “Kid Charlemagne”. The rest of the program features more ‘70s classics, plus “Things I Miss The Most” from their last album and closing with “A Man Ain’t Supposed To Cry”, likely copped from the Joe Williams version. Probably to reflect streaming habits, each selection is faded to silence before the next track starts.

Since it’s worth mentioning somewhere, back in 2002 Becker and Fagen made an appearance on Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz radio show, which was among the many installments to get a subsequent official release. As was the format, the show consists of conversation interspersed with performances, wherein the guys are backed by a simple rhythm section and joined occasionally by their host. Of their own songs they play “Josie”, “Chain Lightning”, and “Black Friday”, but more interesting are the standards they tackle, three of which were associated with Duke Ellington. It’s also nice to hear Walter play guitar rather than ceding it to somebody else.

Steely Dan Alive In America (1995)—3
Steely Dan Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz (2005)—3
Steely Dan Northeast Corridor: Steely Dan Live! (2021)—3

Rickie Lee Jones 6: Pop Pop

Female vocalists doing standards albums had become a thing by the ‘90s, but anyone who’d paid attention to Rickie Lee Jones since her initial emergence shouldn’t have been surprised by Pop Pop. What does make it stand out from, say, Linda Ronstadt’s work with Nelson Riddle or Natalie Cole’s tribute to her own father was her approach. On most of the tracks she’s accompanied by Robben Ford on a nylon string guitar, with subtle standup bass from either Charlie Haden or John Leftwich. A bandoneon appears, as does an occasional sax, but for the most part it’s all very quiet.

Her renditions of warhorses like “My One And Only Love” and “Bye Bye Blackbird” are nice and not at all blasphemous. “The Second Time Around” has the softest violin solo we’ve ever heard. However, “Dat Dere” is already based on baby talk, so we don’t need the sound of cooing infants in the mix. (“I Won’t Grow Up” is more effective in the overall context.) So when she springs Hendrix’s “Up From The Skies” on us, it fits right in. Producer David Was—the other guy in Was (Not Was) that’s not Don Was—gets extra royalties by contributing “Love Junkyard”, which is the loudest the album gets, with the most players, and the closest to her own classic sound. Jefferson Airplane’s “Comin’ Back To Me”, taken even more delicately than the original, provides a truly haunting finale.

Rickie Lee Jones Pop Pop (1991)—3

Frank Zappa 54: The Yellow Shark

Throughout his entire career, all Frank Zappa wanted was to work with a collective that was not only capable of playing his more sophisticated musical pieces, but enthusiastic about doing so, and willing to help finance them to fruition. In 1991, he found one in Ensemble Modern, a Frankfurt-based outfit that dove into the challenge. Compositions old and new were arranged and tweaked, culminating in a series of concerts entitled The Yellow Shark. An album culled from these shows was released one month before Zappa succumbed to prostate cancer.

As his classical-type albums go, it’s enjoyable unless you don’t like classical-type albums. Following a brief introduction by the composer (who was too sick to do much of the actual conducting) they go into “Dog Breath Variations” and “Uncle Meat”, both also familiar from previous orchestral excursions. “Outrage At Valdez” was written for a Jacques Cousteau documentary about the Exxon oil spill in 1989, and is suitably grave; along the same lines, two different pieces called “Times Beach” refer to a different chemical emergency that affected ordinary folks. One of the more daring pieces is “The Girl In The Magnesium Dress”, originally composed and played on the Synclavier but here executed by actual people who could replicate the sound of cats running up and down piano keyboards and vibraphones simultaneously. “Ruth Is Sleeping” had a similar birth, but is slightly more musical. “Be-Bop Tango” gets a chance to breathe without the choreographed distractions of the Roxy era.

The four movements from “None Of The Above”, a string quartet originally written for and performed by the Kronos Quartet, appear in a different order than supposedly written, and aren’t immediately melodic. Because he never wrote a skit he didn’t want to perform, this album has two. “Food Gathering In Post-Industrial America, 1992” is recited by a female viola player, punctuated by the sounds of mechanical sewage; then the federal customs form is the basis for “Welcome To The United States”, read in a thick German accent with comical vocal and instrumental responses from the band. (“Louie Louie” makes an appearance.) It’s followed by “Pound For A Brown” and “Exercise #4”, another Uncle Meat refugee. Despite its title—derived from an early version that used only the white keys on the piano—“Get Whitey” is very melodic and almost pretty. Finally, “G-Spot Tornado” is another Synclavier piece newly arranged, and it’s excellent. Still, it would be nice to have something after the nearly two-minute standing ovation at the end.

The Yellow Shark would not be the last major work he completed before his death, but it certainly got a lot of attention. For several years his estates teased a sequel of sorts; when Everything Is Healing Nicely finally appeared, it turned out to be something of an “audio documentary” of the ensemble’s earliest rehearsals and experiments with him. Moreso than The Yellow Shark, it’s generally for completists, beginning as it does with “Library Card”, mostly recited in German with Lumpy Gravy-style accompaniment. (“Master Ringo” and “Wonderful Tattoo” use a genital piercing enthusiast magazine for their lyric sources.) Luckily, the rest is a lot less silly.

“This Is A Test” is a brief experiment that deserved to be further developed, while “Jolly Good Fellow” is a conducted improvisation that plays on that familiar melody. “Roland’s Big Event/Strat Vindaloo” is a clarinet solo followed by Frank duetting on guitar with L. Shankar. “T’Murshi Duween” is a Roxy-era piece that usually followed “Penguin In Bondage” and would have been very well received at the shows. The appropriately titled “Nap Time” is based around the Alpine horn while two Japanese poems are recited quietly in the background. “9/8 Objects” features more L. Shankar, and “Naked City” is something of a guitar concerto (not played by Frank). “Whitey (Prototype)” is a brief rehearsal, while “None Of The Above (Revised & Previsited)” juxtaposes a rehearsal with live performance. “Amnerika Goes Home” also comes from the concerts, being an arrangement of a Synclavier piece used as bedding on Thing-Fish.

Between the two albums there is some very enjoyable music showing another side of Frank, but one must endure some of his more idiosyncratic tendencies to get to them. It’s a shame the collaboration didn’t get to go further.

Zappa/Ensemble Modern The Yellow Shark (1993)—3
Zappa Everything Is Healing Nicely (1999)—3

Jimi Hendrix 10: The Jimi Hendrix Concerts

Alan Douglas was still in charge of the Hendrix vaults, and following his controversial reimagining of leftovers, he did something of a service with a pair of compilations. The Essential Jimi Hendrix was a two-record set that sampled the first three albums chronologically, ending with tracks from the first three posthumous studio albums. A year later, Volume Two offered one side of songs from the first album plus “Crosstown Traffic”, while the other served up “Wild Thing” from Monterey, “Machine Gun” from Band Of Gypsys, and “Star Spangled Banner” from Woodstock. A bonus one-sided 45 featured a previously unreleased cover of “Gloria”. Basically the Hendrix equivalent of the Red and Blue albums, they provided a good introduction. (Both volumes would make it to a combined double CD in 1989, the studio tracks re-arranged chronologically and ending with the live tracks and “Gloria”.)

For his next trick, Douglas went back to the vaults for something of a sequel to Hendrix In The West. Labeled on the back over as “a collection of his most exciting performances”, The Jimi Hendrix Concerts was another double album, mixing tracks from eight different concerts over three years. In addition to the soon-to-be familiar sources of Berkeley, the Albert Hall, and San Diego, four shows from his 1968 residency at San Francisco’s Winterland Arena were utilized for the first time.

Following an introduction from Bill Graham, that’s where “Fire” comes from, then it’s over to San Diego the next year for Mitch Mitchell’s extended intro to “I Don’t Live Today”. Jimi stretches out on this one too, with a detour into “Star Spangled Banner” and then quoting from “Tomorrow Never Knows”. A year after that, it’s “Red House” from the New York Pop Festival. “Stone Free” had already been extended onstage past its radio-friendly length, and here goes for ten (edited) minutes. It leads well into the freakout intro for “Are You Experienced”.

There’s been a lot of fancy fretwork so far, which makes the comparative restraint in “Little Wing” very welcome. We hear just a few notes of “You Got Me Floatin’”, a song never otherwise known to be played live, then it’s into a furious “Voodoo Chile [sic] (Slight Return)”. “Bleeding Heart”, here subtitled “Blues In C Sharp”, is slow and sinewy. “Hey Joe” comes from Berkeley, one of his last concerts, and they apparently couldn’t do anything about the radio interference in the first verse. “Wild Thing” descends into chaos fairly quickly, and “Hear My Train A Comin’” (here subtitled “Gettin’ My Heart Back Together Again”) ends it all with another long blues.

To make The Jimi Hendrix Concerts a listenable experience (sorry) for newbies and collectors alike, Douglas edited out some jamming and drum solos, and used echo as well as stage patter from San Diego throughout to add to the mirage. But even despite the range of sources—and Billy Cox instead of Noel Redding on two tracks—it worked. (This too was released in CD in 1989, sporting a bonus track in “Foxey Lady” from the LA Forum, an addition that would add even more value to the box set that came out a year later. All are out of print now, so it’s moot.)

Jimi Hendrix The Essential Jimi Hendrix (1978)—4
Jimi Hendrix The Essential Jimi Hendrix Volume Two (1979)—4½
Jimi Hendrix The Jimi Hendrix Concerts (1982)—4
1989 CD reissue: same as 1982, plus 1 extra track
Current CD equivalent(s): none

Tears For Fears 9: The Tipping Point

Considering how long they’d generally taken to make their albums even when they were more relevant, nobody was really expecting much from Tears For Fears, especially considering how tiny a splash their first reunion made. But they were able to keep in the public’s mind through touring, and deluxe expanded repackages of their ‘80s albums; meanwhile Curt Smith released two more solo albums. Even when they spoke of writing new material, people weren’t cancelling dinner plans. And frankly, “I Love You But I’m Lost”, one of two new songs added to the 2017 Rule The World compilation, was mostly of appeal to diehard nostalgists and Pet Shop Boys fans. (The other was “Stay”, and will be discussed shortly.)

Yet when The Tipping Point finally appeared after even more delays, the media received it like a gift, with the boys making the rounds of the talk shows, speaking openly about their own professional difficulties and personal travails. Curt looked as chiseled as ever, while Roland Orzabal embraced his own silver mane and beard. Aging and mortality were the main topics among the songs, many of which were collaborations with Charlton Pettus, who produced the last album, and hit songwriter Sacha Skarbek.

The simple acoustic strum of “No Small Thing” is proof right away that they’d evolved. A mention of New Mexico suggests a south-of-the-border influence, but another rhythm comes in to take it somewhere else entirely, escalating toward a frantic and sudden end. The title track eases its way in until hitting tempo with a drum track that sounds exactly like it was lifted from “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, whereupon it gets very busy and doesn’t let up. It’s easy to read into the lyrics of “Long, Long, Long Time”, but the changing meters keep you guessing in the meantime. “Break The Man” was written by Curt and Pettus—without Roland—and is straightforward pop without too much decoration, in contrast to “My Demons”, an excellent lyric tethered to a robotic mix.

“Rivers Of Mercy” is much more gentle than anything we’ve heard yet, with gospel touches addressing the worldwide turmoil of 2020. “Please Be Happy” is unique in their catalog as it addresses someone else’s pain and suffering, as opposed to their own or that of the world at large. With horns and subtle orchestral touches, it’s quite lovely. By the time “Master Plan” arrives with its overt Beatle references, it’s welcome, and nicely sets up the catchy, raspy soul of “End Of Night”. Finally, “Stay” sounds wonderful in the context of the album, moreso than it did as a carrot on a hits collection. The other song written by just Curt with Pettus, it was directly inspired by his own doubts about continuing with the band, and nicely caps a strong second side.

While we’re still partial to earlier albums, The Tipping Point does succeed with its breadth of style. Keeping mostly away from the Beatles and Brian Wilson playbooks certainly helped, as did keeping it down to a manageable LP length.

Of course, as had become an annoying trend among “legacy” artists, the album was released by retailers in different territories with exclusive bonus tracks, with all included on a very limited deluxe edition. “Secret Location” is a sop for those who want to dance: “Let It All Evolve” is more tense, based around acoustic chords and a drone, but with a decent chorus; “Shame (Cry Heaven)” has a lovely stark piano beginning, but soon detours into plastic soul and an ill-advised tempo change. They are merely extras.

Tears For Fears The Tipping Point (2022)—3

Yes 10: Going For The One

Whether or not their self-imposed break did them any good, Yes was back after a nearly three-year gap in a musical climate that had little patience for prog. They did some kickstarting, first booting Patrick Moraz in order to get Rick Wakeman back in, and ran off to Switzerland like good tax exiles to record there without Eddy Offord. Once Going For The One appeared in stores, fans would likely have been shocked to find that Roger Dean didn’t do the elaborate triptych cover, his sci-fi landscapes replaced by skyscrapers courtesy of Hipgnosis. (Their Gill Sans typeface contrasts with his logo.)

The music was a little different, too. After an audible count-in, the title track just plain rocks, with lots of slide guitar but enough Jon Anderson and keyboards to keep it sounding like Yes. His words go by too fast to discern at times, but listen closely and you’ll hear a sense of humor about himself in the third verse. All the while, Steve Howe goes nuts on the slide. “Turn Of The Century” is more like what people would expect, Jon singing wistful mystical lyrics over layered acoustic guitars. A piano solo threatens to drive the whole band into gear, but that doesn’t happen, and it just fades away. Then “Parallels” rocks almost as hard as the title track, even with the prominent church organ, and we can hear Chris Squire letting loose on his while singing (this being a leftover from his own solo album). Most of it drives in four-four, but by the end everybody’s accents—especially Steve’s constant soloing—are competing with Alan White’s busy meter.

We hear Beatlesque touches in the verse of “Wonderous Stories”, a happy hymn along the lines of “And You And I” and “Your Move”. It’s even short enough to be a hit single. But just in case you thought they’d forgotten their roots, “Awaken” runs for 15 minutes, almost as if to prove they could still do complex epics. It begins with a grandiose Wakeman piano part, then Jon wafts in before the rest of the band appears at another brisk (for them) tempo. If anything, the band sounds a little bit like recent Zeppelin. That church organ returns in the mid-section, not as grandiose as on “Parallels” but augmented by Jon’s new harp and even two real choirs (as opposed to voices from a Mellotron) as the band fills in the space. And just when you think it’s all ending on a grand major chord, Jon comes back for a coda that we think resembles post-Gabriel Genesis.

So while it had every reason to be awful, Going For The One isn’t, seeing as it contributes two standbys of Classic Rock radio and uses everyone’s strengths without being a retread. In fact, the only thing really wrong with the album is Alan White’s mustache. (The eventual expanded CD was packed to the gills, with three interesting albeit previously released outtakes, plus extended rehearsals of four of the album’s tracks, including an electric take of “Turn Of The Century”.)

Yes Going For The One (1977)—3
2003 remastered CD: same as 1977, plus 7 extra tracks

Brian Eno 29: Forever And Ever No More

Since the start of the century’s second decade, Brian Eno had kept up a fairly consistent release schedule, showing no signs of slowing down as he approached and hit his 70s. Maybe time spent locked down during the Covid pandemic inspired him to start singing again. But while ForeverAndEverNoMore indeed has vocals and lyrics throughout, it’s in no way a throwback to his first solo albums, nor even Another Day On Earth. For one, it’s very slow.

“Who Gives A Thought” rumbles into place over an ambient bed, and his sad melody wonders about the fate of the planet. The melody finds a major key for the more hopeful “We Let It In”, his daughter Darla providing the key (in this case, the sun). “Icarus Or Blériot” goes dark again, ruminating on whether we should really be exploring the skies, while “Garden Of Stars” envisions a horrible end to it all as the music increases in static and tension. The all-instrumental “Inclusion”, with violin and viola played by a musician who’d also worked for Bryan Ferry, provides respite from the gloom.

With the sounds of birds subtly in the mix, “There Were Bells” is almost poetic as it surveys the scenery, whereas “Sherry” resembles a haiku, the piano following his vocal closely. Darla returns to color “I’m Hardly Me”, her soprano helping disguise his bleak and slow words. “These Small Noises” is sung partially as a duet with Irish musician Clodagh Simonds taking the lead over Jon Hopkins’ stately, almost hymnal piano. While mostly ambient, “Making Gardens Out Of Silence In The Uncanny Valley” sports the processed voice of occasional collaborator Kyoko Inatome, whom he first met when she was a waitress at a sushi restaurant he frequented. (No, really.) It’s even more soothing than “Intrusion”, and a wonderful way to end the album. (Also, the eight-minute streaming version is five minutes shorter than the CD version.)

Just because he could, the album was remixed, tracks retitled, and released six months later in the Forever Voiceless edition, giving listeners the opportunity to get lost in the music without worrying about the planet or vocal distraction. (His, anyway; some of the other vocalists remained in the mix.) Here the album becomes a sequel more obviously in the tradition of the longer interludes on The Ship or the busier moments on Reflection—occasionally pleasant, sometimes dark.

Brian Eno ForeverAndEverNoMore (2022)—3

Slim Dunlap: The Old New Me and Times Like This

By all accounts, Bob Dunlap was a highly likeable guy about the Minneapolis music scene whose life changed when he was asked to join the Replacements as their lead guitarist. And that’s not all: because he was replacing the irreplaceable Bob Stinson, the ‘Mats insisted he go by Slim Dunlap, as if anyone would be confused otherwise.

His time in the band only lasted a couple years and a few albums, but he was welcomed by the fan base, and folks were naturally concerned for his welfare once the ‘Mats split up. He spent a bit of time touring with the also-newly solo Dan Baird from the Georgia Satellites, and while he had no desire to be a frontman, he had enough support in the Twin Cities to finance a solo album, albeit via an offshoot of Twin/Tone. The Old New Me even beat Paul Westerberg’s solo debut into stores by a few months; Westerberg is vaguely credited among the performers, one of which is future Jayhawk Tim O’Reagan.

The album is a pleasing blend of Stonesy chords and riffing (best exemplified by “Rockin’ Here Tonight”) and sh-t-kicking honky tonk. In other words, fun. “Isn’t It” is a wonderful groove with a roller-rink organ for accent. “Partners In Crime” sounds like Westerberg is in the mix, and his influence is felt on “Taken On The Chin”. The best song is “The Ballad Of The Opening Band”, a tender tribute to all those also-rans from a man who knew them well. It’s followed by a rendition of the obscure James Burton instrumental “Love Lost” for a wonderful coda.

Three years later Times Like This slipped out, with a little more money spent on the packaging, and more experimental, almost lo-fi tracking, as on the clattery “Jungle Out There” and “Chrome Lipstick”. There’s also more self-referencing of life as a working musician this time, from the first half of the band-setting-up medley of “Not Yet/Ain’t No Fair (In A Rock ‘N’ Roll Love Affair)” through “Nowheres Near” (Westerberg shows up here too) to “Radio Word Hook Hit”, which doesn’t have one. The album’s not as fun, and a little more jaded, though people like it. Bruce Springsteen even recorded a yet-to-be-released cover of “Girlfriend”.

From there he gave up on superstardom and mostly gigged around Minneapolis in between day jobs until a stroke felled him in 2012. Musicians and friends rallied to help with his medical bills, which led to the “Songs For Slim” project. The first release was a covers EP credited to the Replacements, which was mostly Westerberg and Tommy Stinson, except for Chris Mars’ one-man band rendition of “Radio Word Hook Hit” (he also did the artwork); similar benefit singles by other friends and admirers would follow, eventually collected on a double LP. His two albums were also repackaged for the first time on vinyl for a Record Store Day as My Old New Records; following his death in 2024, the going rate of his catalog, new or used, skyrocketed.

Slim Dunlap The Old New Me (1993)—3
Slim Dunlap Times Like This (1996)—2½
The Replacements Songs For Slim (2013)—2½

Van Morrison 49: Latest Record Project

As if the record business didn’t annoy him enough, Van Morrison was forced to curtail his performing career by the rude intrusion of the worldwide Covid pandemic. Naturally, he took it personally. Denied the right to play shows he released three singles in succession—“Born To Be Free”, “As I Walked Out”, and the more pointed “No More Lockdown”—as well as a collaboration with Eric Clapton on “Stand And Deliver”, as if these two guys alone were hit hardest by the crisis.

Van’s attitude extended to the title of Latest Record Project Volume 1, with cover art that resembled a multitrack tape box. Having had two years since his last album, he managed to come up with over two hours’ worth of material, and just shoved it out there. (None of the 2020 singles nor the Clapton collaborations were included.) Our first thought was this was a similar tack he took with Hymns To The Silence, and then we reeled at the concept of that album being thirty years old already.

The title track is along the lines of his other rants about the futility of the business he’s chosen, and made longer by singing it a few words at a time with the band repeating each line. “Where Have All The Rebels Gone?” is a pertinent question, except that his immediate answer is “hiding behind computer screens.” Beyond that it’s a one-chord groove with tasty rockabilly guitar. “Psychoanalysts’ Ball” would be lovely if it were about anything else, and the decent soul groove of “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished” can’t hide the fact that most of the lines don’t bother to rhyme. “Tried To Do The Right Thing” restates the thesis better, musically as well as lyrically, and sticks to romance.

It’s back to complaining on “The Long Con”, a long 12-bar blues about being a “targeted individual”, the victim of whoever’s “pulling the strings”. He finds the joy in music in “Thank God For The Blues”, but it’s hard to think of “Big Lie” as anything else but a modern rant for which he roped in British blues belter Chris Farlowe. If only he’d left out the first verse and called it something else. “A Few Bars Early” is a clever idea, and suitably brooding.

We would bet actual money that Van was familiar with the blues standard “It Hurts Me Too”, but based on his song of the same name, he missed the point (hint: it’s called empathy). “Only A Song” seems to suggest that he can’t be held accountable for whatever he’s spewed, but at least he plays a decent alto sax. “Diabolic Pressure” must have kept him limited to two chords and a variation thereof outside of the bridge, “Deadbeat Saturday Night” is full of obvious rhymes, and we get the point by the time of “Blue Funk”, an otherwise decent song—the slap at “mainstream media” aside—but we’re only halfway through this album.

The message of “Double Agent” is muddled, with its slaps at MI5 and Kool-Aid, and “Double Bind” (which begins with the revelation that “mind control keeps you in line”) is just as paranoid. “Love Should Come With A Warning” is very welcome change of pace, and “Breaking The Spell” finds comfort in nature, even if the chorus is unoriginal. “Up County Down” is just plain confusing; there are lots of Irish references in the lyrics, along with calls back to earlier points in his career, but he couldn’t be bothered to add more than a mandolin and banjo to the R&B combo, and the chorus is about as inspired as “Blowin’ Your Nose” or “Nose In Your Blow”.

“Duper’s Delight” would be a wonderful reverie straight off of Into The Music or No Guru, No Method, No Teacher but for its diatribe against the lies “they” (probably female newscasters) are telling you. He strums a fine guitar on “My Time After A While”, another competent blues otherwise tainted in this context, and while no sax player is credited, that sounds like him too. “He’s Not The Kingpin” is sung in unison with P.J. Proby, another special guest forced to sing about the media’s agenda. “Mistaken Identity” is yet another example where he insists that we don’t really know him, which is laughable considering his slanted material.

The home stretch isn’t promising. The Bo Diddley retread “Stop Bitching, Do Something” might as well have been titled “Put Up Or Shut Up”. “Western Man” has a mild country swing but again is too busy hurling insults to attempt to rhyme. No points for guessing what “They Control The Media” is about, but there’s no beating “Why Are You On Facebook?” for inanity. Finally, “Jealousy” is his answer to anyone who’s still on his lawn, in case “Mistaken Identity” didn’t make it clear.

Anyone who’s followed Van’s career closely to this point will have already realized he is possibly the grumpiest millionaire this side of a Dickens novel, and it’s hard to imagine anyone taking his side. Six songs out of 28 isn’t even a decent batting average, but if he’d taken those and found other lyrics to the likes of “Duper’s Delight”, we might have actually had a concise album worthy of his voice, which is still as strong as ever. But no.

Van Morrison Latest Record Project Volume 1 (2021)—2

Jane’s Addiction 2: Nothing’s Shocking

Thanks to a major label deal and a lot of press, Jane’s Addiction broke into mainstream success with Nothing’s Shocking. And right out of the gate, they were controversial, with cover art and lyrics requiring the now ubiquitous parental advisory sticker. That didn’t distract too much from the music, which sported plenty of guitars, electric and acoustic dynamics, and a vocal delivery that garnered more complimentary comparisons than other children of Led Zeppelin at the time.

The album begins, as many of their songs do, with a simple Eric Avery bass riff that barely hints at what’s to follow. A few power chords are hit and held, then drums join to match the rhythm and a melody appears. After some riffs and lyrics consisting of “here we go” and “home”, and that’s “Up The Beach”. An Arthur Lee-style acoustic intro belies the power of “Ocean Size”, and while it does reappear to help the verses breathe, it’s mostly a chance for Perry Farrell to yell in between Dave Navarro’s fretwork. “Had A Dad” is the first real song with non-abstract lyrics, in this case, the grunge generation ongoing absent parent issues. Stephen Perkins gets to explore his kit at the start of “Ted, Just Admit It…”; besides showing their predilection for ellipses, an actual soundbite from Ted Bundy is added to enforce the thesis that sex is violent and provide the album title. The double-time coda takes the tune to the next level. “Standing In The Shower… Thinking” sports a scratchy funk rhythm that would become their trademark.

It’s been something of an aural onslaught, so the dreamier, romantic “Summertime Rolls” provides a welcome change of pace, though it too amplifies for a spell. “Mountain Song” brings back the aggression big time, then to double down on the funk, “Idiots Rule” sports a horn section courtesy of two guys from Fishbone and the Chili Peppers’ Flea playing a very accomplished trumpet. “Jane Says” is upgraded from the first album, given a boost with very melodic steel drums for percussion, and still remains catchy despite, again, two chords. “Thank You Boys” is a snappy goof that serves to close the album, but only on the vinyl. Both cassette and CD got a bonus in a remake of “Pigs In Zen” for another profane rant.

While this summation may not be as descriptive as we like, the music really does speak for itself. Nothing’s Shocking deftly straddled heavy metal and college alternative, making them a band to watch. And for a while, they were. All these years later it still sounds fresh, and free of the trappings of ‘80s production standards. Not bad for a bunch of kids and their older frontman.

Jane’s Addiction Nothing’s Shocking (1988)—4

Elton John 26: Live In Australia

Elton’s 1986 tour of Australia followed almost immediately on the world tour he’d started the year before, which was initially in support of Ice On Fire but went on to attempt to put some life into Leather Jackets. What was different about the leg down under was the approach: 26 performances were spread throughout five venues, and each featured his band in the first half, then Elton performed accompanied by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra while bedecked in powdered wig, beauty mark, and colonial costume a la Mozart.

Such an event was just screaming to be documented, and the following year a live album highlighting the orchestral portion appeared, alongside a home video with selections from both halves. In the US, the album was pointedly released on MCA, signaling that he too had had it with being on Geffen. (A few songs weren’t included, partially due to the then-limited capacity of a CD.)

From the start he sounds raspy; indeed he would have throat surgery immediately after the tour. But it’s an adventurous program, beginning with three deep cuts from his second, eponymous album. The grand spectacle of “Tonight” is followed by the more recognizable “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word” from the same album. “The King Must Die” goes back to the second album, and does the more rocking “Take Me To The Pilot”, and by now he’s really enjoying himself. The band nicely balances the orchestra on “Tiny Dancer”.

“Have Mercy On The Criminal” was one of Elton’s personal favorites, he says, specifically because of the original Paul Buckmaster arrangement, fleshed out here but still with plenty of space for Davey Johnstone to solo. “Madman Across The Water” has power but not enough menace for our taste, but the surprise hit single was “Candle In The Wind”, performed by Elton solo with some keyboard help (plus vintage Marilyn Monroe footage in the video). This would become the song’s go-to version for the next ten years. “Burn Down The Mission” gets a little derailed at the end with backing vocalists chanting “burn it down,” but “Your Song” is treated a little more respectfully. While “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting” was the standard closer, here it’s omitted and replaced by “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me”.

After the embarrassment that was Leather Jackets, Elton was back, so to speak. He’d insist he was never away, but Live In Australia was still a nice reminder of what he could do as well as what he had done, and managed to please long-suffering fans along with new converts.

Elton John Live In Australia With The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra (1987)—3