Fairport Convention 5: Full House

While the band had found something of a marketable direction, 1970 found Fairport Convention now working not only without Ashley Hutchings—who left to form Steeleye Span, and was replaced on bass by the soon-to-be-legendary Dave Pegg—but also without Sandy Denny—who left to form Fotheringay, and was replaced by nobody, as that was impossible. Full House was therefore a hopeful title, as they continued to imbue folk songs and influences with electricity and a rhythm section. (In keeping with the old-meets-new theme established by the last album, this time the liner notes featured descriptions of allegedly ancient sporting games and the scores achieved.)

Once again they open with something of a call-to-arms (for lack of a better term) in “Walk Awhile”, with rotating vocalists on the verses, guitars balancing Dave Swarbrick’s violin over the tight rhythm section. “Dirty Linen” is another example of the band adapting and medleying traditional reels, and the new guy’s bass parts are virtuosic in their precision. The balance of side one is filled by the slower “Sloth” (rhymes with “growth”), which manages to stay interesting over nine minutes and a wonderful Richard Thompson solo without increasing tempo.

“Sir Patrick Spens” is an old tune about a shipwreck, and another case where the men’s close harmonies have us missing Sandy big time. The nautical theme continues in the opening melody of “Flatback Caper”, another medley, this one dominated by mandolins. Written by Richard and Swarbrick, “Doctor Of Physick” is something of a gothic cautionary tale warning adolescent girls against impure thoughts. Finally, the ancient “Flowers Of The Forest” is dominated by an electric dulcimer for a hypnotic drone.

While Full House is successful, it’s just not the same band without Sandy. Richard started to think so too, as not long after their American tour—later spotlit on the official release Live At The L.A. Troubadour, which was itself later replaced by House Full—he quit too, off to a quirky yet intriguing solo career.

Some early copies of Full House sported a slightly different track listing, which listed one song that had been pulled at the last minute. When the album was upgraded (overseas) in this century, the original sequence was restored, including “Poor Will And The Jolly Hangman”; even Richard himself has agreed that leaving it off in the first place was a mistake, as it provides even more balance to the album as a whole. Bonus tracks included mono and stereo mixes of the standalone single “Now Be Thankful”, as well as its B-side, another medley of reels, this time given an interminable gimmick title.

Fairport Convention Full House (1970)—3

Nilsson 11: Pussy Cats

An unabashed Beatlemaniac, Harry Nilsson had already managed to get George Harrison and Ringo Starr to play on his albums before he went to L.A. to hang out and get smashed with Ringo and John Lennon during the latter’s so-called “lost weekend” during his separation from Yoko. In John’s own recollection, he and Harry were becoming more notorious for getting thrown out of clubs for drunk and disorderly behavior that he thought they would be better served making an album together. As he had little of his own on standby not already tied up by Phil Spector, he offered to produce Harry, and that’s how Pussy Cats happened. (Harry’s label RCA was persuaded to finance the project with the carrot that John would sign to the label once his Apple contract ended, and so prominently displayed the producer’s name and face on the cover. Spoiler alert: he didn’t.) Harry was so excited by the project that he wrecked his famously versatile voice trying to shout his way through the sessions.

This isn’t immediately apparent on the lush cover of Jimmy Cliff’s “Many Rivers To Cross”, which now sounds more of a template for the album John would eventually complete in a few months, particularly in the melody of the strings inspiring his own “#9 Dream”. We can’t tell if that’s John doubling Harry’s voice on the bridges and later choruses, or just Harry in full rasp. It’s a whiplash jump to Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues”, a little funkier than the original, but like most tracks on the album, sporting both Ringo and Jim Keltner on drums. (And again, it sounds like John’s next album.) Balladeering Harry is back on the sumptuous “Don’t Forget Me”, which he arranged himself, and in the context of this album is a fitting sentiment as well as its highlight. Despite John’s interjections on the intro, “All My Life” admits to a lifetime of bad behavior, but doesn’t give us any hope that he’ll change anytime soon. “Old Forgotten Soldier” finds him still feeling sorry for himself via a variety of metaphors; thankfully the sound effects of birds and the German solider yelling are faded out after the first verse.

The Drifters’ “Save The Last Dance For Me” gets a similar approach to that of “Many Rivers To Cross”, in that it’s drastically slowed down for maximum pathos, with a piano part sure to remind folks of “Without You”. Tantalizing on paper, “Mucho Mungo/Mt. Elga” is a Lennon/Nilsson writing collaboration to which John contributed the unfinished first half, and Harry added the other, for the album’s nod to an island feel. Another oldie, “Loop De Loop”, tries to let us all in on the party—which clearly has been going on too long—this time with Keith Moon joining Ringo and Keltner on drums, and a damned kids’ chorus yelling along. The eerie strings on “Black Sails” belie the forced pirate puns throughout the lyrics, then it’s back to the party. Just in time to cash in on Happy Days, on “Rock Around The Clock” the three drummers manage to stay on tempo, even in the double-time fade.

Pussy Cats has maintained notoriety for the details of the production, and has since become tagged as something of a cracked masterpiece, which it’s not. Nor is it horrible. It is in keeping with his brand, in that once again he approaches greatness, only to thumb his powdered nose at it. While it may be an unfortunate chapter in his own history, it is key to understanding John’s. (The bonus tracks on the expanded CD weren’t very illuminating. “Down By The Sea” and the drunken skit “The Flying Saucer Song” were session outtakes and would be re-recorded for later albums, as would an earlier take of “Turn Out The Light”. “Save The Last Dance” is performed solo with an electric piano, and is a template for the released version. As the album was also released in a quad mix back then, we’re half expecting a more deluxe upgrade someday to cash in on that.)

Nilsson Pussy Cats (1974)—3
1999 CD reissue: same as 1974, plus 4 extra tracks

Andy Summers: XYZ

Once the Police were finished, we were rooting for Andy Summers. Never as loud or as pugnacious as Sting or Stewart Copeland, surely his expertise on guitar and quest for new sounds would ensure something of a career outside of that band. Right?

One obstacle was that he didn’t have much of a singing voice; his monologue on “Be My Girl—Sally” was just that, and “Mother” was the one track most people skipped on the multi-platinum Synchronicity due to his yowling. That was a lot to overcome, especially when XYZ, his first solo album, sported songs he sang. He also handled all the guitars and most of the basses, while coproducer David Hentschel—most famous for earlier production work for Genesis and the synth on Elton John’s “Funeral For A Friend”—was credited with keyboards and drum programming. It should be no surprise that the album is firmly affixed in 1987. That production style often buries the vocals in reverb and other contemporary effects, and sometimes there’s a woman adding an ethereal counterpoint, but that only underscores Summers’ shortcomings.

“Love Is The Strangest Way” was the first single, and it got some airplay, but the title might have been a little too close to one of Sting’s to stand out. Much of what follows doesn’t sound enough like the Police to please those fans. “How Many Days” and “Almost There” do have some hook hiding in the murk, but “Eyes Of A Stranger” might as well be Pat Benatar (instrumentally, not vocally). “The Change” is a moody departure from the norm, with a minimum of percussion, to close what was side one, and therefore welcome.

With “Scary Voices” it’s back to music that wouldn’t seem out of place on a movie soundtrack, and we’re trying to figure out which Sting melody “Nowhere” echoes. The balance starts to improve with the title track, a pleasant, almost new age instrumental that echoes Mark Isham’s work on the Windham Hill label. The desert feel in both lyric and backing help “The Only Road” stand out, and the equally subdued “Hold Me” doesn’t sound too far from a Blue Nile track with its keening vocal a la Paul Buchanan.

The title track was somewhat prescient, as he would release four instrumental albums over the next four years, sometimes using some of the musicians common to Isham. These were all on the Private Music label, which specialized in new age-type music that was too techno for Windham Hill, and had about as much commercial impact as XYZ.

Andy Summers XYZ (1987)—2½

David Bowie 47: I Can’t Give Everything Away

The modern Bowie reissue project took a nearly four-year break, wherein they kept busy with colored vinyl, picture discs, and comprehensive archival digs related to Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust. Finally, what was billed as the final installment of the comprehensive series of box sets—though we’re still waiting on that Tin Machine collection—appeared. I Can’t Give Everything Away takes its apt title from the last song on the last of the four studio albums collected. As per usual, each has been remastered, and each is followed in the box with something to fill in the story. And there’s a nice thick book.

Even though there was a big gap between the first two albums and last two studio albums here, there is unity, given the production by Tony Visconti and the same players on about half of the contents. Heathen was a strong return to form after the commercial ‘80s and experimental (to be kind) ‘90s. He assembled a band for a relatively brief tour, and the performance at the 2002 Montreux Jazz Festival—which included eight songs from Heathen among a bunch of the old hits, and an encore consisting of the entire Low album save “Weeping Wall”—is included on two CDs. The same band stuck around to help him quickly record the Reality album, which was of course also promoted with a tour. The A Reality Tour DVD appeared in 2004, followed only six years later by a CD version; here it has been resequenced so the original non-DVD tracks appear in their proper places in the setlist.

The Next Day was a bounty after such a long break, and the various bonus tracks and other music on The Next Day Extra EP showed he had a lot cooking, as well as knowing what songs should be relegated. Even so, it was a big surprise when Blackstar appeared less than three years later, and the world had three days to ingest it before he died. From there, the only “new” music was the songs included in the Lazarus cast recording, then released on their own in the No Plan EP, which repeated “Lazarus” from Blackstar, as it does here.

While that was an official standalone release, it could be argued that “the final songs” made more sense as part of Re:Call 6, three CDs of extras from throughout the period. These include the various B-sides and SACD mixes from special editions of Heathen and Reality, two more songs from A Reality Tour that wouldn’t fit on those CDs, the earlier single versions of “Sue” and “‘Tis A Pity She Was A Whore”, guest appearances and soundtrack one-offs, three songs from one of his last live performances (with Arcade Fire), and “Arnold Layne” with David Gilmour and Richard Wright. Criminally, “The Little Fat Man (With The Pug-Nosed Face)” with Ricky Gervais didn’t make the cut.

David Bowie I Can’t Give Everything Away (2002-2016) (2025)—3½

Crowded House 9: Gravity Stairs

The most recent lineup of Crowded House stayed intact for a second album in a row. But while the cover of Gravity Stairs emulates that of Revolver, the Beatlesque pop of nearly forty years earlier has long since mutated into the Finn family brand. The hooks are there, but they’re usually buried in atmosphere.

“Magic Piano” is another tentative beginning, a love song to the joy of playing that breaks open for the chorus. “Life’s Imitation” (retitled “Teenage Summer” for the streaming editions) also has a catchy chorus, but the repetitive lyrics make the song seem unfinished, despite the production. Liam Finn is responsible for “The Howl”—his lyrics are more impressionistic than Dad’s—and we’re getting steadily closer to rock. “All That I Can Ever Own” is another love song, this time to family, with the perspective of age, and somewhat obscured amid a very busy mix. “Oh Hi” is equally herky-jerky, but as it was inspired by and intended to benefit an African education charity, it’s fine. If the harmony on the Neapolitan-inspired “Some Greater Plan (For Claire)” sounds familiar, it should, because it’s Tim Finn. Once again, it’s related to the healing power of music.

“Black Water, White Circle” comes from another dreamy place, perhaps somewhere on open water. If anything sounds like Crowded House of an earlier decade, it’s the electric guitars dominating “Blurry Grass”, written with Elroy, who provides a nice little drum break. The energy stays up for “I Can’t Keep Up With You”, an apt title for a song loaded with electronic flourishes that once again hide the decent song in there. Most of these layers are peeled away by the end of the track, which makes a nice segue into the fingerpicked backing for “Thirsty”. It’s even nicer once “Night Song” starts, beginning as something of a lullaby but chases tangents down effects and time signatures, with the sort of disembodied voices that jar you awake when you’re trying to go to sleep.

Gravity Stairs is certainly of a piece, so it’s successful as an album, but we’ve always depended on Neil Finn to give us tunes we can hum. As we’ve said too many times, the production takes away from the enjoyment of close listening, and we shouldn’t have to work so hard for the songs to stick. A lot of people had their hands on the mixing board, making for a more democratic vision than a unified one. We still like it.

Crowded House Gravity Stairs (2024)—3

Joni Mitchell 30: Joni’s Jazz

It should be clear by now that while she started as a folksinger, Joni Mitchell had an affinity for jazz, from standards to fusion. She dabbled with these throughout her career, as evidenced by her experimental tunings and chords, and the caliber of musicians she used in the studio and on tour.

After the Joni Mitchell Archive compiled four box sets of unreleased material (and three of remastered albums), the Joni’s Jazz box took a pretty bold approach by presenting four CDs’ worth of music that supposedly fit the thesis. Some of these tracks wouldn’t necessarily have been labeled as “jazz” in their original contexts; just having a saxophone doesn’t count as far as we’re concerned. Wayne Shorter does feature quite a bit; he’s shown on the cover, and the set is dedicated to him. Herbie Hancock is also on the cover, and two collaborations from his catalog are included: the Gershwins’ “The Man I Love”, and her own “Tea Leaf Prophecy”.

Beyond those, the set gets some rarities out of the way early on: a big-band version of Marvin Gaye’s “Trouble Man” from the debut album by Clint Eastwood’s son Kyle, and demos of “Moon At The Window” and “Be Cool”. Near the end of the fourth disc is a lovely wordless demo of “Two Grey Rooms” that appeared in a box set of the Geffen albums in 2003. Beyond that, it’s a nearly five-hour trawl through the catalog. With seven tracks each from Turbulent Indigo, Taming The Tiger, and her orchestral covers album Both Sides Now, we wonder if a Reprise Albums box covering the ‘90s is moot and therefore not in the pipeline. Every now and then songs taken from an album are bunched together, but generally it seems all over the map, and random-sounding.

So we’re not sure of the intended audience for this set. While there is some undoubtedly masterful music here, just because it has a jazz influence doesn’t necessarily make it essential. It’s a Spotify playlist in a fancy physical format.

Joni Mitchell Joni’s Jazz (2025)—3

Jimi Hendrix 14: Lifelines

The CD era gave the Hendrix catalog another life, helped by the increased commercial interest in archival material. After Rykodisc got into the game with their two very well received compilations, Reprise let Alan Douglas do some more vault-trawling. Lifelines was essentially a reproduction of Live And Unreleased, a syndicated radio show—inspired by the Lost Lennon Tapes series and produced by former Knack drummer Bruce Gary, whom we’ll hear from again—spread across three CDs, plus a fourth disc with most of a 1969 Experience concert and an anachronistic cover photo.

Hearing the radio show in real time was certainly an event for those who knew where to tune in to hear it, but with interview snippets and smarmy narration often obscuring the music—both the songs we know and the rare stuff—it was a persistently frustrating listen. While the CDs were usually indexed to start at each complete track, and the liner notes gave some information among the hyperbole, this was a missed opportunity to present the material optimally.

That said, the show does move mostly chronologically from his earliest work with the Isley Brothers and Curtis Knight all the way through to the end. Rarities include a club performance of “Like A Rolling Stone” with Al Kooper, live versions of “Red House” and “Machine Gun”, a few more BBC recordings, alternates of “Look Over Yonder”, “One Rainy Wish”, “1983”, and “Angel”, and such legendary outtakes as “Cherokee Mist”, “Rainy Day Shuffle”, “South Saturn Delta”, “Send My Love To Linda”, and “Valleys Of Neptune”. Even with all those, most purchasers likely spent more time with the live disc, recorded at the L.A. Forum. “Foxey Lady” had to be cut to accommodate the shorter disc capacity of the time, but it had already been a bonus track on the previous year’s CD reissue of The Jimi Hendrix Concerts, as if they planned it.

When MCA took over the Hendrix catalog three short years later, Lifelines went out of print. Over the years much of the rare material would emerge on other archival releases, but it took nearly two full decades before Los Angeles Forum: April 26, 1969 finally became available again, and in full for the first time. At this point the Experience were better than ever, allowing Jimi to explore and extend songs well past their three-minute lengths on vinyl. At over 14 minutes, “Tax Free” is even longer than on the box. After tuning and tossing out “Foxey Lady”, he tries to get “Red House” over the rowdy audience. “Spanish Castle Magic” starts more immediately, and runs for 12 minutes into “Star Spangled Banner” (we’re still about five months away from Woodstock) and “Purple Haze”. By now the police are trying to quell the crowd, so Mitch Mitchell takes his customary solo at the start of “I Don’t Live Today”, which continues with fiery-sounding effects. The cops have made their way to the stage, so the band responds with a 17-minute “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” that includes a detour through “Sunshine Of Your Love”. It’s good to have this one back in circulation.

Jimi Hendrix Lifelines: The Jimi Hendrix Story (1990)—3
Jimi Hendrix Experience Los Angeles Forum: April 26, 1969 (2022)—4

Guns N’ Roses 4: The Spaghetti Incident

They had only just finished the massive Use Your Illusion tour, and the “Estranged” video hadn’t even been released yet when Guns N’ Roses released their long-threatened covers album. Much of what made up “The Spaghetti Incident?” originated during the album sessions, and could have ended up on those albums, but they eventually decided that “Live And Let Die” and “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” would be the extent.

While most of the album runs the gamut through punk and glam, it opens with “Since I Don’t Have You”, the venerable doo-wop nugget with a profane Axl aside before the solo and an unnecessary atmospheric coda. That out of the way, Duff does a decent job shouting the Damned’s “New Rose”, and Axl puts on a bad cockney for U.K. Subs’ “Down On The Farm”. He cleverly adds a kazoo in lieu of sax for “Human Being”, which they stretch out even longer than the New York Dolls version. Duff helps Axl with the Stooges’ “Raw Power”, and Michael Monroe makes his second appearance on a GN’R album, duetting on the Dead Boys’ “Ain’t It Fun”, though Axl makes sure he himself gets the line with the c-word.

Slash takes his first-ever lead vocal on “Buick Makane” (from the T. Rex album that inspired his hat), which gets a twist by bringing in the chorus of “Big Dumb Sex” by Soundgarden in a nod to grunge, but more a reason to drop more eff-bombs. Nazareth’s “Hair Of The Dog” is an inspired choice, right up to Slash’s “Day Tripper” quote at the end. Duff returns for the Misfits’ “Attitude” and Johnny Thunders’ “You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory”, the latter brought over from the sessions for his own solo album. The Sex Pistols are said to be the source for “Black Leather”, but in reality it was a Steve Jones and Paul Cook collaboration first covered by the Runaways. The final listed track is a plow through the Fear classic “I Don’t Care About You”, which would have been a fine ending, but Axl decided to sneak on a song written by Charles Manson as a hidden track. (As if that wasn’t enough, the typed gibberish on the album’s front cover uses the code invented by the Zodiac Killer.)

What helps the album succeed is, of course, Slash, who plays his butt off everywhere without seeming showboaty, and Duff should get some credit for some of the more arcane selections. If the intention really was to pay homage as well as generate royalties for some of these people, good for them. But their sell-by date had passed. Outside an unnecessary carbon copy cover of “Sympathy For The Devil” released on the Interview With A Vampire soundtrack a year later, this was the end of the band as we knew them.

Guns N’ Roses “The Spaghetti Incident?” (1993)—3

Duff McKagan: Believe In Me

For a while, Duff McKagan was the dumbest man in rock ‘n roll, stumbling around drunk and/or high, laughing at some inside joke, with hair and clothes that suggested something of a male version of Kelly Bundy. But his marginalized role as the bass player in Guns N’ Roses belied his varied musical background, kinda like we always underestimated what Izzy Stradlin brought to the mix. This wasn’t exactly utilized to the fullest on Believe In Me, his first solo album, as epitomized by the song titles and the cartoony portrait of the artist on the front. No expense was spared for this project, seemingly created during studio and touring breaks; along with most of the current lineup GN’R except Axl, special guests included members of Skid Row and the girl from Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” video. But he does play the majority of the guitars and drums on the album, and quite well too, along with his usual bass.

Unfortunately, he also sings with confidence but not competence, his lyrics trite and cliché. Sometimes he speaks (or yells) asides when melodies just can’t suffice. These traits combine to erase most of the appreciation one could muster for the quality of the arrangements. Much of the album is heavy rock or power ballads, but he does detour into funk for Jeff Beck to shred on for “(F-cked Up) Beyond Belief” (censorship ours) that’s mostly instrumental but gets its title from the near rap in the midsection. (Beck also turns up on “Swamp Song”.) “Punk Rock Song” is a one-man thrash that lasts just over a minute and a half, and would have been shorter if he stayed true to the genre and didn’t break it down halfway through. Lenny Kravitz sings (and screams) “The Majority” with little fanfare, which is surprising considering his ubiquity at the time. Co-writer and contributor Gilby Clarke—a.k.a. Izzy’s replacement—can share half the blame for “10 Years”, and Sebastian Bach takes the Izzy role on “Trouble”. “F-uck You” (censorship again ours) is a loud metal number with a profane rap by one Doc of something called Haus Mob. The closing ballad “Lonely Tonite” is manna for those whose favorite song on the Use Your Illusion albums was “So Fine”.

Since getting mostly sober by the end of the century, Duff managed to clean up his look, resurfacing in various offshoots with old and new friends—most successfully with Velvet Revolver—and even went back to school to emerge as something of a financial adviser to his fellow burnouts. Back then, though, not a lot of people believed in Believe In Me, and it was soon overtaken by a more bankable release.

Duff McKagan Believe In Me (1993)—2

Aerosmith 2: Get Your Wings

This was more like it. For Aerosmith’s second album, they were placed under the care of producer Jack Douglas, who’d already worked with Alice Cooper and John Lennon. And while it still offered breadth of style, Get Your Wings came loaded with hooks.

To wit, “Same Old Song And Dance” begins with one of those, made for air guitar or to be actually learned by budding pimply faced axemen. The Brecker brothers, plus Stan Bronstein of Elephant’s Memory, on horns don’t distract from the rock at all. Beginning with what would become a familiar drum pattern, “Lord Of The Thighs” (pretty clever title, that) takes its sweet time for everything to fall into place, including subtle rhythmic piano and guitars playing single sixteenth-note patterns. Steven Tyler has found his swagger, and his voice is mixed up front, unlike on the first album. While the spooky extended intro for “Spaced” is about as contrived as the mildly existential lyrics, they do combine for a hell of a track. Acoustic guitars blend with electrics for “Woman Of The World”, which is very well constructed but doesn’t stick as well the rest of the album. Joe Perry does get in some cool licks over the fade.

At almost half the length, “S.O.S. (Too Bad)” accomplishes what “Woman Of The World” couldn’t, knowing enough to get out of the way when it’s made its point. And a good thing too, because the one-two punch in the middle of the side dominates. First, “Train Kept A-Rollin’” starts with the intro of the Yardbirds version, then settles into trademark Aerosmith stank for two minutes before going into strict Yardbirds tempo. (Douglas brought in audience noise from the Concert for Bangladesh to cover the transitions, and apparently Dick Wagner and Steve Hunter from Lou Reed’s band play the solos.) From there they could only go with a slow one, and wind soon drowns out the fake audience for the doom-and-gloom acoustic intro to “Seasons Of Wither”. There’s excellent doubling of instruments, subtle keyboards (or layered vocals?) on the choruses, and a superior lyric. Then Tyler’s back to being horny on “Pandora’s Box”, which distills the rockers on the album into a decent closer with an extremely complicated ending. (Before that, however, listen for the clever spoonerism on “city slickers”, and even more closely at the start of the track for a clarinet playing “I’m In The Mood For Love” for some reason.)

Get Your Wings nails down the classic Aerosmith sound, and the template they’d follow for the rest of the decade. And for the most part, that’s what they did, and well.

Aerosmith Get Your Wings (1974)—3½

Mike Campbell 1: Blue Stingrays

Surf music received something of a revival in the ‘90s thanks to Quentin Tarantino movies, and while it didn’t enjoy the massive sales windfall of the swing revival, it also didn’t tank as quickly. Bands like Shadowy Men On A Shadowy Planet, Laika & The Cosmonauts, and Man Or Astro-man? were just a few outfits who rode the trend and created new music, while independent labels searched for little-known practitioners from back in the day to reissue.

One such outfit was Blue Stingrays, whose Surf-N-Burn collection came with a mysterious bio and catalog listings for long-lost albums, but just one listen to the CD made it clear that these were not thirty-year-old tapes. In reality, it was a new album by Mike Campbell of Tom Petty’s Heartbreakers, heavy on the twang and whammy bar, with former Heartbreaker Ron Blair on bass and Mudcrutch drummer Randall Marsh. (Benmont Tench is mentioned as being involved as well, but we don’t hear any keyboards; it’s been suggested he ordered the pizza.)

A dropped needle on vinyl opens the album, and party noises are heard throughout “Monsoon”; thankfully they don’t persist, but both reappear on the closing “Super Hero”, which sounds a little like the Mighty Mouse theme. Speaking of which, the theme from Goldfinger had already featured in Petty live sets, and it was something of a surf song already anyway; “Russian Roulette” has a similar secret agent theme quality as well. Every now and then there’s a riff and chord sequence that’s just screaming for a Petty lyric, especially “Brave New World”, and we could swear we’ve heard “Blue Venus” somewhere else before. “Surfer’s Life” and “Zuma Sunset” have distinct Brian Wilson qualities, and help break up the tempo. Fifteen songs in 47 minutes make it longer than most actual surf albums. (Two outtakes from the sessions, the more rockabilly than surf “Grits And Eggs” and “Dawn Patrol”, were released as a 45rpm single in 2021 alongside the album’s reissue on three varieties of limited edition colored vinyl.)

Overall the album is pleasant, but occasionally emulates the period incidental music concocted for the previous year’s hit movie That Thing You Do!; if Mike was in Tom Hanks’ radar he likely wouldn’t have opted to score a movie soundtrack so close to She’s The One. Throughout his time in the Heartbreakers, and despite the occasional session gig, he never dared pursue a solo project, which is why this one was a badly kept secret for such a long time.

Blue Stingrays Surf-N-Burn (1997)—3

Jayhawks 9: Music From The North Country

Somebody decided the Jayhawks needed a greatest hits compilation, or the equivalent thereof, at a time when the band had basically been over for a few years. The single-disc version of Music From The North Country was pretty solid, starting with two songs from Blue Earth and continuing with three or four songs from each of the albums that came followed. Seeing as there were so many contenders to choose from, it’s tough to quibble with what made it, though the production of “What Let Me To This Town” does jar with everything else.

The real meat came on the second disc of the deluxe edition, which went chronologically through twenty outtakes, demos, and/or rarities, beginning with “Falling Star”, the first digital appearance of anything from the Bunkhouse Album. Some of these are early versions; “Old Woman From Red Clay” is basically “Two Angels” with a different chorus, “Stone Cold Mess” is a more country take on what would become “Break In The Clouds” on Smile, while the alternate version of “Poor Little Fish” is even weirder and the early “Tailspin” is heavy on fuzz. “Someone Will” and “Rotterdam” are both just a chorus away from “I’m Gonna Make You Love Me” and “All The Right Reasons” respectively. The music ranges from the twang of “Darling Today” to the Kiss-riffing of “Get The Load Out”. It’s essential for those who want more Mark Olson, and while half of the disc comes from the period before and after Smile, it includes such gorgeous Gary Louris gems as “Cure For This” and “I Can Make It On My Own”. Tim O’Reagan even gets a nod with “Follow Me”. Copious liner notes provide instrumentation info and context for each.

For more fun, an hour-long DVD included several music videos and a couple of EPKs, and fans had a choice of bonus discs with different content from either Best Buy or Amazon, some of which had appeared on a fan club-only release. Live From The Women’s Club documented a trio appearance by Louris, O’Reagan, and Marc Perlman a year before Rainy Day Music came out, and present a laidback revue of songs old and new. The first volume appeared shortly after the show itself, and a disc containing what didn’t fit arrived three years later.

The Jayhawks Music From The North Country–The Jayhawks Anthology (2009)—3½

Yes 11: Tormato

We will admit to having approached Tormato with some trepidation, as its reputation preceded it. For one, that cover—rendered so realistically we always want to grab a sponge and paper towels. The title didn’t help either; puns that lame seemed beneath Yes. (The inner sleeve depicts a topographical map centered on Yes Tor, an actual outcrop in the southwest of England, but that wouldn’t have been a much better title either.) The band seemed to have wanted to forget it too, as it wasn’t made available on CD in the U.S. or Europe until the ‘90s.

Back then, they had managed to keep the lineup the same, but they were still producing themselves, without Eddie Offord. Musically they’re also keeping up the energy generated on the last album, beginning with the utopian vision of “Future Times”, which is coupled with the separate but similar-sounding “Rejoice”. The suite, and the album as a whole, succeeds when the instrumentalists play with instead of against each other. “Don’t Kill The Whale” is a nice sentiment, of course, but Jon Anderson doesn’t quite have the earnest quality of, say, Graham Nash to pull it off. Plus, the backing borders on disco, especially Chris Squire’s bass effect, which doesn’t suit them. Much better is “Madrigal”, based around a classical-sounding harpsichord with acoustic guitar touches, and much more like their classic sound. “Release, Release” is a call for revolution of sorts, in terms free of metaphor; indeed, the lyrics throughout this album are their most literal yet. A roaring crowd is heard during the drum solo, which seems more than a tad gratuitous, and it only increases once Steve Howe joins in.

Speaking of literal, “Arriving UFO” describes exactly that, and if you’ve seen the movie, it’s basically a recap of Close Encounters Of The Third Kind; thankfully they don’t use the five-note motif from the film, but they come dangerously close once the ship lands. “Circus Of Heaven” might be close to metaphorical, except that he’s talking about a circus he’d really like to see, with unicorns, centaurs, fairies, and the like. But did he really need to have his young son do commentary at the end? Just as on the first side, “Onward” provides a dreamier interlude in a song of devotion, to a woman, to a higher being, who knows, and it’s quite moving. This and the last track sound most like the Yes people came to hear. “On The Silent Wings Of Freedom” begins with two minutes of that jamming we mentioned, everyone adding flourishes and what sounds like yet another quote of the “Close To The Edge” riff from Steve. But once the vocals kick in everyone starts playing over each other, and there’s just too much going on, until it whips itself into a frenzy and stops.

So Tormato isn’t terrible, just a little full of itself. In addition to the sound supposedly improving, once the album was recognized again as part of the pantheon, it too received expansion the second time the catalog was remastered. Following the B-side “Abilene” and the previously released silly outtake “Money” (rendered unlistenable by Rick Wakeman’s narration) were eight unfinished tracks, some of which would turn up on future Anderson or Howe solo projects. (“Everybody’s Song” would reappear as “Does It Really Happen?” on the next album, but we’re not there yet.) The unlisted “orchestral version” of “Onward” is lovely, but oddly not included was “Richard”, which had been a hidden track on certain cassette and 8-track releases back in the day.

Yes Tormato (1978)—3
2004 remastered CD: same as 1978, plus 10 extra tracks

Kinks 32: UK Jive

The ‘80s didn’t end as well as they began for Ray Davies, and by extension the Kinks. Their albums had stopped selling, and the band—still down to two original members—weren’t exactly a unit. But Ray still felt compelled to write about his vision for the future, first for a short-lived musical based on Around The World In Eighty Days, and then for UK Jive, which was the next Kinks album. However, Americans weren’t concerned at all with the future of the British Empire, and those Brits who were vested weren’t looking to Ray for answers.

A writer of his caliber shouldn’t have to go out of his way to make the backing track of a song called “Aggravation” be so literal, so it’s a shame that he did. It’s especially disappointing because the first thirty seconds or so are very inviting, but we actually don’t mind the little funky breaks. But “How Do I Get Close” works on a romantic level as well as an existential one, even if it’s a little boomy. The title track buries political commentary in a throwback to an earlier era, and the nod to “My Generation” is odd. “Now And Then” may be a tongue-in-cheek distillation of humanity’s progress, but it works as a slow ballad, even when it recalls “Summer Nights” from Grease. “What Are We Doing” opens with a solid arpeggiated riff, but becomes rock-by-numbers when the band kicks in, serving the lyrics poorly.

“Entertainment” is a contender for the best song on the album; unfortunately the track was eight years old, having been left off Give The People What They Want. “War Is Over” is upbeat, tuneful, and charming, despite the canned trumpets, and it’s a shame Ray insisted on harmonizing with himself. Speaking of canned sounds, “Down All The Days (Till 1992)” opens with those familiar tolling bells from “Big Black Smoke” and is somewhat hopeful, being a look ahead to Britain joining what we now know as the European Union. Somehow he works in a lost-love angle in between the linguistic references, and it’s too bad he couldn’t have chosen a better synth patch. The title of “Loony Balloon” suggests it might have been left over from his musical, but the metaphors suggest otherwise. The folky nautical backing and intricate time signatures make the track stand out. He lets brother Dave get the last word with the bluntly pointed “Dear Margaret”, which fits thematically. (The CD version of the album not only had extended versions of three songs, but had two extra tracks, both by Dave, who was miffed that they weren’t on the album proper. “Bright Lights” is a pretty straight rocker, and “Perfect Strangers” is a little more sludgy, so maybe Ray was right.)

Their contemporaries did a little better in 1989—not by much, but just enough to sell records. For a band about to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, they were sounding more like has-beens than still-coulds.

The Kinks UK Jive (1989)—2½

Billy Joel 1: The Hassles and Attila

Billy Joel causes arguments like few other musicians of his or any generation. For some he’s a pompous hack, while others hail him as a terrific songwriter and live performer. For those of us who grew up near New York City, he seemed almost as ubiquitous on the radio as Springsteen, even though it took him a while to become a household name. And even though his last album of songs came out decades ago, an all-star benefit at Madison Square Garden isn’t complete unless he comes out to play songs loaded with local references.

As he’d say, he was a classically trained pianist who loved rock ‘n roll, and many of his melodies started out as instrumental pieces grounded solidly in classical piano. That’s one reason why his attempts to rock aren’t as convincing as when he emulates pieces by 18th-century longhairs. With the benefit of hindsight, we consider him a guilty pleasure, with all the meaning both of those words suggest.

But everyone’s gotta start somewhere, and in his case it was the Hassles, a Long Island combo equally influenced by tristate heroes the Rascals and Vanilla Fudge, to the point where they tried to meld soul with psychedelia. Their first album is dominated by radical, not always successful covers, and more Hammond organ than would be heard throughout his solo career. There are some originals, like the decent “Every Step I Take (Every Move I Make)” and the Sam & Dave-style “I Can Tell”, both of which showcase his voice better than the soul shouting he tries elsewhere.

The Hassles was expanded on CD in time for its 25th anniversary (with bonus tracks in the form of earlier studio recordings), but that was not the case for their second album, since lost to time and YouTube. Billy took over the songwriting for Hour Of The Wolf, still very much of its time. “Country Boy” turns into a Dead-type jam that fades very quickly, and several tracks try to be twee and poetic, but the 12-minute title track is just plain laughable. The lyrics are bad enough, but the drum solo is preceded by the band making the wolf sound effects themselves. At least his piano solo hints at future efforts, despite its pomposity and the maniacal laughter that follows and drowns out the guitar solo. The band is certainly competent, and somebody took the time to orchestrate arrangements, but the material just isn’t there.

That was it for the Hassles, but not for their singer and drummer. Attila saw Billy going all-out on the Hammond organ, sending it through amps and wah-wah pedals to make it sound like Led Zeppelin, accompanied only by drummer Jon Small in an imitation of what Lee Michaels was doing with Frosty in those days. The band name was bad enough, but they went all out by wearing furs like actual Huns, and were photographed inside a meat locker for their only album cover.

Billy is and was never Robert Plant, so his mewling throughout the albums is just plain embarrassing. “Wonder Woman”, “Rollin’ Home”, and “Holy Moses” may well have inspired Wolfmother, while “Tear This Castle Down” sounds like bad Deep Purple. “California Flash” is an attempt at ironic humor in its portrait of a gimmicky singer, and “Revenge Is Sweet” predicts his petulant attitude once he actually did make it. He gives his throat a break with the mostly jazzy instrumentals closing each side: the “Godzilla” segment of “Amplifier Fire” gets points for the name seven years before Blue Öyster Cult got around to writing their song about the same subject, which are lost with “March Of The Huns”, and “Brain Invasion” is more of the same.

Attila is far from the worst album ever made, but we’ll guess that this album is what got the Hammond organ out of his system for good. His ongoing discomfort about this being out there is well founded, yet there’s no denying he had chops.

The Hassles The Hassles (1967)—2½
1992 expanded reissue: same as 1967, plus 8 extra tracks
The Hassles Hour Of The Wolf (1969)—2
Current availability: none
Attila Attila (1970)—2
Current availability: none

Todd Rundgren 33: [re]Production

This curious album apparently arose from Todd Rundgren’s residency in the music department at Indiana University, and came to fruition during a record-making fantasy camp. The concept of [re]Production is intriguing, in that it finds Todd covering songs from his various production gigs over the decades. However, his quest to do something contemporary meant that the results were hi-NRG ‘90s style dance versions.

His voice is unmistakable—even when AutoTuned—and the digital instruments he uses are familiar from most of the one-man band albums he’d been putting out all century. Somebody might have had hits with these arrangements of Patti Smith’s “Dancing Barefoot”, Meat Loaf’s “Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad”, or Psychedelic Furs’ “Love My Way”, but coming from Todd they sound like parody. It’s more successful on songs we don’t know, like “Chasing Your Ghost” by a band that would eventually evolve into Red Hot Chili Peppers, and on the gastronomic reconstruction of “Personality Crisis”. It is daring to put a banjo on “Tell Me Your Dreams” from Jill Sobule’s little-heard first album, and at least he doesn’t mess with Badfinger’s “Take It All” too much. Cheap Trick’s “I Can’t Take It” is just a little synthed-up, but we can’t hear XTC’s “Dear God” without the taint of his and Andy Partridge’s mutual rancor.

Todd himself acknowledges the callback to his earlier cover project Faithful in the liner notes, which was frankly more ambitious and successful. [re]Production is a novelty, and nothing more.

Todd Rundgren [re]Production (2011)—2

Steely Dan 10: Two Against Nature

Maybe it wasn’t inevitable, but after Steely Dan started touring regularly in the ‘90s, fans wondered whether a new album would happen. Indeed, Two Against Nature arrived nearly 20 years after Gaucho, and went on to win four Grammy® awards, including Album of the Year. But since the Grammys had been racking up several instances of questionable decisions, one must approach this album with skepticism. Given the Dan’s brand, it’s the natural response. They don’t exactly pick up where they left off, but with the loping rhythms, electric piano, different guitarist, horns, and drummers on every track, and Donald Fagen’s trademark sneer in the lyrics, there’s no mistaking said brand.

“Gaslighting Abbie” is generic CD101 jazz, a little too snappy for the crime elliptically described in the lyric. The story in “What A Shame About Me” is a little better—maybe because it’s a musical rewrite of “Josie”—wherein the narrator both shows his age and his wisdom in life choices. The title track is already a welcome departure, with the free jazz horn at the top and the non-standard meter covering up the gobbledygook of the lyrics. If the come-on in “Janie Runaway” is any indication, the dirty old man of “Hey Nineteen” hasn’t grown up any, and the leering seems to continue in “Almost Gothic”, which is more musically interesting, mostly because it’s based on “Deacon Blues”.

We hear echoes of “The Royal Scam” and “The Caves Of Altamira” in “Jack Of Speed”, another cautionary tale about drugs with a memorable hook in the title. But the catchiest song on the album is also the most cringey; “Cousin Dupree” is an aging slacker living on his aunt’s couch skeeving on a younger relative. At least the object of his desire has the sense to rebuff him. We’re not sure that can be said about “Negative Girl”, and by this time on the album we’re wondering whether the boys should be subject to court-ordered therapy for their proclivities. At least the vibes solo fits in with the more dreamy vibe. A sharp snare drives “West Of Hollywood”, which helps keep up interest even through the lengthy solos over the coda.

Most of the songs on Two Against Nature are in the same tempo, with little variation in dynamics, and very few hooks really leap out. Even after several listens it’s not easy to tell one track from another—or as they put it themselves in “Negative Girl”, “the original classic thing, more of the same”. If anything, this will send listeners back to the old albums.

Steely Dan Two Against Nature (2000)—2

Rickie Lee Jones 7: Traffic From Paradise

Having gone through pop jazz and adult contemporary, Rickie Lee Jones chose a unique path for Traffic From Paradise. Though recorded in several places with several people—anchored by Leo Kottke, Jim Keltner, old buddy Sal Bernardi, and John Leftwich on bass and cello—there’s a spontaneous, live-in-the-room feeling, dominated by acoustic instruments. Throughout, her lyrics provoke wonder, just as her voice continually veers between happy toddler and stoned chanteuse.

“Pink Flamingos” is typical, in that it rumbles into place, finally settling on a basic riff with references to Las Vegas and other kitsch. A disturbing image of a monk opens “Altar Boy”, which soon turns into a Leonard Cohen homage. The simple folk picking of “Stewart’s Coat” is a wonderful contrast, even in its wistful longing for a past love, or so it seems. But for David Hidalgo’s south-of-the-border touch, Bernardi’s “Beat Angels” could have come from any of her earlier albums. Two of the guys from the Blue Nile are thanked for inspiration on the surreal “Tigers”, which improves with that knowledge.

The stripped-back cover of “Rebel Rebel” is unnecessary, though it did likely bring Brian Setzer some cash in the days before he rode the swing revival. “Jolie Jolie” is a sweet little number with Cajun influence, leading into the love song within the Kottke-cowritten “Running From Mercy”, featuring harmonies from Lyle Lovett. There seems to be another scary tale driving “A Stranger’s Car”, though the touch of strings (which we assume comes from a keyboard) adds to the landscape. David Baerwald—whom some might remember from David + David and “Welcome To The Boomtown”—duets on “The Albatross”, a seafaring benediction.

Traffic From Paradise wasn’t much heralded then, and hasn’t seemed to have surfaced in any retrospective appreciation. Geffen didn’t do much except release the album, since most of their money was going to Aerosmith, Nirvana, and Guns N’ Roses that year anyway. But it’s another good choice for quiet evenings or early mornings.

Rickie Lee Jones Traffic From Paradise (1993)—3

Bill Wyman 1: Monkey Grip

As frustrated as Brian Jones was when Mick and Keith took over the songwriting and subsequent benefits in the Rolling Stones, Bill Wyman remained more so. Only one of his songs made it to an actual album, and while it was also released as a single, that was as far as he got. So with the strength of the Rolling Stones Records label behind him, Bill took advantage of the opportunity to make solo albums—the only Stone to do so for another ten years.

Monkey Grip was recorded with the help of some famous friends—mostly Danny Kortchmar—plus members of Manassas, Lowell George, and Dr. John. The latter two certainly helped give a New Orleans vibe to the proceedings, despite being recorded mostly in California with assistance by engineers usually based in Florida. The other Stones were conspicuous in their absence.

The nicest thing we can say about Bill’s voice is that at least it was better than Ron Wood’s, but on “I Wanna Get Me A Gun” he sounds a little like John Cale, while the lyrical content could be connected to John Entwistle. “Crazy Woman” isn’t as developed, but basically covers the same theme from another angle. A Nitty Gritty Dirt Band banjo drives “Pussy”, a bluegrass rewrite of a nursery rhyme with horns, and while he seems to have his lady troubles figured out on “Mighty Fine”, “Monkey Grip Glue” is a too-long extened advertising jingle for a product that will stick to mean mistreaters.

He puts on his creepy Cale voice again for “What A Blow”, which meanders to a fake fade and back again. “White Lightnin’” is an ode to moonshine, which suitably Appalachian touches. “I’ll Pull You Thro’” has enough stank in the music and suggestions in the lyrics to almost be a Stones contender; it’s the only track here we can hear Mick possibly singing. “It’s A Wonder” lopes around for five minutes, and now we hear a vocal resemblance to Joey Molland.

There’s nothing really wrong with Monkey Grip, except that it’s not very exciting. For his sake it would have been nice if this meant he got the solo thing out of his system, but it didn’t. Meanwhile, the strength of his name didn’t give it much of a push, and it would only be revived in the digital era by budget and/or independent labels. (The bonus tracks on the eventual gushing reissue included three outtakes—two of which were little more than jams, though “It’s Just A Matter Of Time” is better than most of the album—plus four single mixes, and a song that would be rerecorded for his next outing.)

Bill Wyman Monkey Grip (1974)—2½
2006 Bill Wyman Solo Collection Edition: same as 1974, plus 8 extra tracks

Clash 9: From Here To Eternity and Shea Stadium

While the Clash’s recorded legacy had been preserved on their albums and a growing number of compilations, their prowess as a live band couldn’t be as easily experienced before YouTube. That finally changed with From Here To Eternity, an hour-long sampler cherrypicked from five years’ worth of professional recordings. (It also worked as a setup for the first grand remastering of the catalog the following year.)

The music moves chronologically through their history, but while the performances themselves are often from different years, the album has an excellent flow, even between drummers. Three of the tracks are alternate mixes (and allegedly overdubbed) of music already heard in the Rude Boy film, and three others come from their legendary 1981 residency at Bonds in New York City. The energy stays up, up, up from the beginning, letting up at the fade after “I Fought The Law”, setting up “London Calling” and “Armagideon Time”, the latter helped out by Mickey Gallagher and Mikey Dread. Paul and Joe swap instruments on “The Guns Of Brixton”, to enable the former to sing while the latter covers his bass part. By that time their music was more hit-oriented, and the audience reaction reflects that. The packaging also included quotes from appreciative fans, along with dubious recording data. If anything, the program should have been twice as long. The streaming version added two songs at the end, which wasn’t enough.

Just one song was included from Shea Stadium, during their stint on the Who’s first farewell tour, and it only took about a decade for their set to be further commemorated. (Even the Who themselves sat on their recordings until 2015.) Beginning with associate Kosmo Vinyl baiting the crowd, they plow into their set, and while there were reports of booing throughout the tour, and asides by Joe about people talking in the audience, the crowd sounds engaged throughout. The band holds themselves well in such a large venue, with no dead air, and only a few acts of defiance, like cutting into “The Magnificent Seven” for a detour through “Armagideon Time” (which sounds like it’s in a major key) then back into “The Magnificent Seven”. Songs are played from every album, but only two came from the one they were ostensibly promoting; “Rock The Casbah” manages to work without the piano, and “Should I Stay Or Should I Go” was used as the official video back then. The echo effects prevalent throughout the set are on full for “I Fought The Law”, and they leave the stage, never to play New York again. To date, this is the only CD containing a full set by the band, which is a crime, frankly.

The Clash From Here To Eternity Live (1999)—4
The Clash Live At Shea Stadium (2008)—3½

Prince 24: Rave Un2 The Joy Fantastic

A new label deal brought TAFKAP under the purview of Arista, then currently raking in the bucks with Santana’s all-star collaboration album Supernatural. Not very surprisingly, special guests appeared on Rave Un2 The Joy Fantastic too, which arrived mere months after The Vault. The album had a production credit for Prince, but all the vocals and instruments he played—mostly by himself, with only some help from other musicians—were credited to the symbol, so do your own math.

The title track had been around since the late ‘80s, when it would have been the anchor for an album that would have followed Lovesexy had the Batman soundtrack not happened. Musically it’s not much, but for lots of riffing and his screamy falsetto. “Undisputed” is an oddly timed statement of superiority, with “N! P! G!” chants and even a rap by Chuck D. “The Greatest Romance Ever Sold” was the single that preceded the album, and an odd choice, since it’s a mostly meandering slow groove with Eastern touches, and a little long. Following a four-second silent segue credited to Miles Davis, “Hot Wit U” is fairly generic but for a few lines, but at least Eve’s rap challenges his prowess. “Tangerine” is a quiet little trifle with some jazzy touches, then the more rockin’ “So Far, So Pleased” is a duet with Gwen Stefani. “The Sun, The Moon And Stars” is rather nondescript until the Jamaican-style rap toward the end.

His cover of Sheryl Crow’s “Everyday Is A Winding Road” takes an R&B slant on the tune, with a rap chant near the end; the woman herself sings inaudibly and blows harmonica somewhere on “Baby Knows”. In between, there’s a lovely orchestral segue before “Man‘O’War”, a falsetto slow jam full of sorrow. “Eye Love U, But Eye Don't Trust U Anymore” (Eye=I, of course) is a piano-based heartbreaker along the lines of “Nothing Compares To U” that sports acoustic guitar by indie folk queen Ani DiFranco. “Silly Game” continues the sad mood with more prominent orchestration, while “Strange But True” is rhythmically spoken over programmed beats, which almost turns into an actual song by the end. Something of a resigned farewell, “Wherever U Go, Whatever U Do” is the last listed song, but an advertisement for his websites precedes “Prettyman”, a dance number in the style of James Brown, complete with Maceo Parker on sax.

His promotion for the album consisted solely of a New Year’s Eve pay-per-view concert, wherein he partied like it was 1999, released a few months later on VHS and DVD as Rave Un2 The Year 2000. A year after that, a remix album of sorts called Rave In2 The Joy Fantastic appeared via his own website, with slightly different artwork to help identify it. In most cases the tracks were extended mixes; “The Greatest Romance Ever Sold” included a rap by Eve, “Hot Wit U” interpolated elements of “Nasty Girl”; “Tangerine” gained a whole 43 seconds, and “Baby Knows” has more Sheryl Crow in the mix. “Everyday Is A Winding Road” and “Strange But True” were not included, though an extended “Prettyman” without the website promo was still there yet unlisted. The one exclusive track was “Beautiful Strange”, which resembles some of Sly Stone’s druggier works.

Whether Un2 or In2, the music reminds us that he hadn’t been that innovative for a while. If you must, both albums were issued in 2019’s Ultimate Rave box set, which also included the Rave Un2 The Year 2000 DVD. Certainly it will all be reassessed as time goes on without him.

o|+> Rave Un2 The Joy Fantastic (1999)—2½
o|+> Rave In2 The Joy Fantastic (2001)—2½

Frank Zappa 55: Civilization Phaze III

Everything Frank Zappa did, in his mind, was of great cultural significance, and the final project he completed before his death in 1993 was no different. Civilization Phaze III collected various compositions either realized on the Synclavier (because his road bands couldn’t tackle them) or performed by Ensemble Modern (because they really, really tried), interspersed with further dialogue recorded inside a piano in 1967 for the Lumpy Gravy album as well new dialogue recorded inside a different piano in 1991. He viewed the completed work as an opera or ballet, but based on the stage directions, it’s hard to imagine such a thing being staged, much less rehearsed or performed to satisfaction.

There will be those who will think the idea of connecting conversations that took place a quarter century apart is some kind of conceptual feat; we maintain that the snippets match up only because that’s how Frank edited them that day. There’s more discussion of pigs and ponies, from both eras, though most of the later dialogue only appears on the second disc. There, members of Ensemble Modern speak in languages other than English to add tension on the part of actor Michael Rapaport (who was dating Moon Zappa at the time of recording).

The music itself is very much in line with Frank’s orchestral tendencies, sometimes merely suggested by the dialogue that precedes or overlaps with it. Those can be entertaining, but things like “Reagan At Bitburg”, which commemorates that president’s visit to cemetery of Nazi criminals, suggest more significance. This one was realized on the Synclavier, and is able emulate an orchestra as well as what used to have to be played back sped up. (Clearly, he loved hearing his music without having to have actual people play it.) The spooky “Buffalo Voice” and “Get A Life” are very evocative of parts of Lumpy Gravy, or at least “The Chrome-Plated Megaphone Of Destiny”. “N-Lite”, divided into six unmarked parts, takes up the last eighteen minutes of the first disc. It sounds a lot like everything else, except for the occasional sample of gurgling or gargling, and a few areas where a piano is prominent. “A Pig With Wings” manages to cross the sound of a harp with piano strings being plucked for a feel somewhere between Japanese and flamenco. “Dio Fa” (itself the title of another unrealized Zappa masterwork) is dominated by samples of Tuvan throat singers (a feature of another interest Frank didn’t live to explore further). Fifteen of the last twenty minutes on disc two are taken up by “Beat The Reaper”—which has consistent rain in the background while Frank noodles on the Synclavier—followed by “Waffenspiel”, a collage of sound effects.

The album was released directly through Zappa’s own mail-order company, in a deluxe cardboard package with libretto. At two discs and running nearly two hours, rapt attention is required, and the mind does wander, even without said libretto. Yet Civilization Phaze III is held up by those who know such things as Frank’s crowning achievement, and a fine example of 20th century classical; indeed, orchestras have since tried to take some of this music on. We’ll have to take their word for it.

Frank Zappa Civilization Phaze III (1994)—2

Ringo Starr 10: Old Wave

Movie roles may not have been coming his way, but Ringo Starr knew he could still make music, so he did. Rather than do the grab-bag all-star route that didn’t help Stop And Smell The Roses, he decided to keep it simple and let Joe Walsh, doing fine without the Eagles, handle the production. They even wrote most of the songs together, and Ringo played most of the drums. But such was his diminished importance to the music world that Old Wave was released in no markets larger than Canada and Germany. It’s too bad, because the album was well-made (in the house he bought from John Lennon with the studio built to record Imagine) and didn’t try to sound contemporary, but just rock like we knew he could. Yet the quest to maintain an album’s worth of tunes remained an uphill one.

“In My Car” is charming despite itself, and “Hopeless” has some appreciated aw-shucks humor, driven by Gary Brooker’s piano; Chris Stainton is also in residence. His personality continues on “Alibi”, featuring Mo Foster’s fretless bass, though “Be My Baby” has a little too much of Joe’s trademark talkbox all over it, and goes a little long. Of course it wouldn’t be a Ringo album without an oldie or two, and the first one is the Sir Douglas Quintet’s “She’s About A Mover”, wherein he’s backed by the 11-piece Hollywood Rock and Roll Revue, featuring Freebo on tuba.

The Lieber-Stoller rarity “I Keep Forgettin’” starts the next side; Ringo hams it up and adds unique percussion alongside Ray Cooper. We do wonder if this version inspired David Bowie to do his own version a year later. “Picture Show Life” is a curious one, contributed by Elton John’s and Queen’s manager, but the “Hollywood is tough” lyrics suits Ringo’s solo brand. Even though it’s slathered with synthesizers simulating an orchestra, “As Far As We Can Go” is a lovely piano ballad left over from an earlier recording project. The obligatory jam session is “Everybody’s In A Hurry But Me”, an instrumental featuring Eric Clapton and John Entwistle (not long after Joe Walsh had produced his own album). “Going Down” is more musically interesting, but just as sparing on the lyrics.

Save for imports and bootlegs, Old Wave wouldn’t get anything close to worldwide attention for another ten years, when it got a reissue, complete with detailed liner notes and a bonus track in the original recording of “As Far As We Can Go”. But that didn’t help at all back in 1983. Fortunately for Ringo, he was spending a lot of time with Paul McCartney on his projects in the meantime; unfortunately, those projects were Pipes Of Peace and Give My Regards To Broad Street. His own stock wouldn’t rise again for a few years yet either.

Ringo Starr Old Wave (1983)—2½
1994 Right Stuff reissue: same as 1983, plus 1 extra track

Ben Folds 17: Live With The NSO

Throughout his career, Ben Folds has worked with orchestras whenever he could, in the studio as well as in public. His performance with the West Australian Symphony Orchestra was released on DVD in 2005, followed twelve years later by a Record Store Day release on vinyl only. When he assumed the post of artistic director at the Kennedy Center in 2017, he helped pioneer a series of collaborations with the National Symphony Orchestra and pop artists as a public service.

Perhaps seeing the political writing on the wall, Folds performed a concert of his own with the outfit in 2024, which was then released on the NSO’s own label the following 4th of July, about five months after he resigned in the wake of the second Trump presidency. Only his third live album not tied to a video release, Live With The National Symphony Orchestra is designed to spotlight the players, the extra vocalists, and the arrangements of the music, so we don’t hear much interaction with the audience at all.

He was still ostensibly promoting What Matters Most, and the first three songs come from that album, and actually surpass the studio versions. Despite staying mostly on one chord, “Effington” is even more intricate with percussion everywhere, so the changes are more noticeable. “The Luckiest” is as sweet as ever, and “Capable Of Anything” gets more fleshed out than its original smaller group arrangement. The Tall Heights duo adds a wonderful harmonic counterpoint to “Still Fighting It”, then Regina Spektor comes out to sing her part on “You Don’t Know Me”. (Maybe it was the venue, but Ben lets the audience sing the profane line in the bridge, and they do, heartily.) “Landed” has a more lugubrious arrangement than the Paul Buckmaster version that snuck out a while back, while “Still”, the ballad from the Over The Hedge soundtrack, gets a sumptuous reading.

It makes for a nice closer, but the streaming version contains four more songs that could easily have fit onto the CD, or a third side of an LP. “Cologne” gets a chuckle for the line about the astronaut killing her boyfriend, “Moments” gets a nice version with Tall Heights again, he gives an aside in “Gracie” to remind the audience how old that little girl is now, and the audience seems to know how to accompany “Not The Same”.

Ben Folds Live With The National Symphony Orchestra (2025)—3½

Jack Grace 5: All The Above, It’s So Nice, Seven Cuts

As it turned out, we did have to wait four years for more new music to play on demand from Jack Grace, but that wasn’t due to any writer’s drought. Three related yet distinct releases give a glimpse of what he’s been up to in that time, and display his diversity.

All The Above finds him still in a mildly country mindset, but mostly in the instrumentation. James Buhre’s upright bass fits nicely with both drummers, while the legendary Earl Poole Ball’s piano livens up “Don’t Go To Memphis (Without Me)” and elsewhere. These are pleasant little strums, starting with the opening plea to “Ban Jo” through the simple pleasures in “Sunshine”. The lyrics are as sharp as ever, with a distinct “c’mon cheer up already” attitude that’s directed within as well as without. “Sweetening The Decisions” and “Wildflowers Thrive After Rain” provide wonderful perspective in the face of plaints like “Oh Woe Is Me”, “Wrong To Feel Right”, “I Will Complain”, and “What’s Your Problem”. To sum it all up, “I Love You More Every Day” layers guitars, vocals, and harmonica with the sweet voice of a toddler.

That last track makes a nice setup for It’s So Nice, “a family album for kids and their grownups” credited to Wandering Jack and featuring most of the players from All The Above. This collection of sweet, mostly original songs is just plain charming, almost daring the listener not to smile. Here his voice is still his own, but gentle, suitable for long car rides and not likely to disrupt nap time. Songs like “You Are Traveling On A Boat” and “Hot Buttered Roll” are whimsical and fun, and “More Than The Sun” and “Mommy Was A Baby Once” are nice family singalongs. Animals figure prominently, and not just when he makes the familiar noises. You already know the melody of “The Ants Go Marching”, and his update of “Humpty Dumpty” is very original.

Musically, “John Robin” and “Bam Boom” (something of a cousin to McCartney’s “Bip Bop” but with more substance) could be relics of Grace’s beginnings in Steak, the not-quite jam band from Boulder and Frisco who made their biggest mark with “Big Bear” as featured in the movie Super Troopers. Their first new music of the 21st century, Seven Cuts picks up where they left off, with jazzy chords and weird lyrics, both tinged with Spanish, about crises real (such as those in “Veronica” and “Another Threat”) and existential, and such activities as “Fishing With Chico” and “Shooting Turkeys From The Car”. Throughout, Grace’s voice and guitar blends with those of Erik Lieblein, Mike Jay and Stu Damm drive the back line, and band friend Quentin Jennings contributes lots of electric piano. Too bad there’s only seven cuts.

Jack Grace Band All The Above (2025)—4
Wandering Jack It’s So Nice (2025)—3
Steak Seven Cuts (2025)—3½

Bruce Springsteen 30: Tracks II

The ‘90s were a pretty dry decade as far as new Bruce Springsteen music was concerned. His first attempt at a Bootleg Series-style release, Tracks, arrived near the end of it, and while it was comprehensive, but still left fans disappointed, as it only scratched the surface. Come the new century, further archival digs expanded on albums like Darkness On The Edge Of Town and The River, and he would also open the vaults to share various classic concerts via his own website.

An interval even longer than the major-label-debut-to-box-set-retrospective period capped by Tracks went by before a sequel of sorts appeared. Tracks II: The Lost Albums 1983-2018 differed from its predecessor in that this sprawling seven-CD collection (equivalent to nine LPs) consisted of completed album projects that he decided against releasing upon completion for various reasons. As it turns out, three of those albums date from the ‘90s, so now fans can argue with themselves over whether they might have enjoyed them in real time or not.

The first such collection, L.A. Garage Sessions ‘83, dates from the post-Nebraska pre-Born In The U.S.A. period, when he’d started writing more character-driven stories, haunted with the legacy of Vietnam, but some fun love songs too. The music is not as lo-fi as the tunes on Nebraska, using more keyboards and drum machines with a more full sound overall, possibly with the idea that it could be another releaseable album as is. The most full CD in the set, it gets its title from the venue where it was recorded, so if you’re looking for trashy rock (or Electric Nebraska), too bad. Of these songs, only “My Hometown” made the next album, and “Johnny Bye Bye” and “Shut Out The Light” would be B-sides. His rewrite of Elvis Presley’s “Follow That Dream” had been played live already, and “Sugarland” would be tried on the next tour. “Richfield Whistle” is more subdued, but the potentially harrowing tale in “The Klansman” is paired with an incongruous rockin’ backing. “Seven Tears” sounds like some of the rockabilly Tom Petty was trying (and didn’t release) around the same time, though “Unsatisfied Heart” has all the makings of a hit, moreso than the two versions of “Fugitive’s Dream”, with which it shares lyrics.

The drum machines heard on the first disc evolved over the ten-year jump to the next album. Streets Of Philadelphia Sessions doesn’t include the title track, for which he won an Oscar, but the songs are just as down, exploring more of the struggles of maintaining relationships. Some of these songs were built from drum loops, and again, the fans who wanted him to rock out would have been disappointed—again—and particularly after his last three, more low-key albums. It was their (and our) loss, because the songs are generally strong, and presented better than on the one-two disappointment of Human Touch and Lucky Town. Well, okay, the repeated “yeah” sample detracts from “Blind Spot”, an otherwise strong tune. “Maybe I Don’t Know You” and “The Little Things” are a little too literal, bested by “Something In The Well”, which shares lyrical ties with Tunnel Of Love; “Waiting On The End Of The World” is more cut from that cloth sonically too. Some of these aren’t too far removed from Peter Gabriel’s recent explorations on the same themes, like “Between Heaven And Earth”. “We Fall Down” and “One Beautiful Morning” are more energetic, and “Secret Garden” sounds very much like the eventual E Street-embellished version, but the artificial drums stick out here. Still, it doesn’t kill the song any. “Farewell Party” repeats some lines from “Blind Spot”, but is even more visual. To be blunt, it was a mistake to shelve this particular album.

The box makes another ten-year jump, this time to a collection of songs allegedly written and recorded for a movie that never got made. Partly instrumental, Faithless has a western prairie vibe, and wouldn’t have been any more surprising a departure for the time than The Seeger Sessions, and coming right after Devils & Dust. Besides, you can get away with more on a soundtrack. This is dusty music, exemplified by the title track and the nearly atmospheric instrumentals. His kids sing on “Where You Going, Where You From”, unfortunately, but “All God’s Children” could easily be mistaken for a latter-day Tom Waits album. But for the lyrics and the eventual gospel chorus, “God Sent You” could have been left over from the Darkness sessions. Without knowing what the film was supposed to be about, we can only guess what these mildly religious tunes are intended to illustrate, but it’s another diversion thankfully available to hear.

Back in the ‘90s, the album now known as the Streets Of Philadelphia Sessions was abandoned, and he got back together with the E Street Band for the sessions that led to the new tracks on the Greatest Hits album. This presumably bought him the time and clout necessary to proceed with The Ghost Of Tom Joad, which it turns out was just part of the music he’d been churning out unbeknownst to us mortals. The way he tells it, Tom Joad was recorded at night, while the days were busy with Somewhere North Of Nashville, a straightahead country album that turns the volume up with extra twang. It’s not a new sound for him; the remake of “Stand On It” is close enough to that old B-side, just as “Janey Don’t You Lose Heart” replaces the ‘80s keyboard with pedal steel and fiddle. Two of the songs were released by other people as covers, and three different songs describe a particular type of “man”; “Repo Man” has a rockin’ piano but is throwaway, “Detail Man” isn’t much different, but “Delivery Man” is a pretty funny tune first tried back in 1983. (Garry Tallent, Danny Federici, and even Max Weinberg are on this disc, if that helps.) “Tiger Rose” is more rockabilly than modern, and the cover of Johnny Rivers’ “Poor Side Of Town” predicts his covers album two decades away. The understated near-Eagles quality of “Under A Big Sky”, “You’re Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone”, and “Blue Highway” come as a relief to the louder tunes. The title track was previously known as a subdued interlude of sorts on Western Stars; here’s it more fleshed out. He still sounds like himself throughout the disc, but we wonder if the fans would have appreciated this at a time when Garth Brooks was inescapable.

He must have thought so too, as he also sat on it. Meanwhile, the critical acceptance of Tom Joad gave him the courage to keep exploring the history of migrant workers—in the American southwest as well as in New Jersey—which is where the songs on Inyo came from. This is quiet music again, where he’s accompanied only by Soozie Tyrell on fiddle and vocals and embellishments from Ron Aniello, except for when the mariachi bands show up on “Adelita” and “The Lost Charro”. Except for those two, the music is gentle enough to lull, so it’s not easy to follow the story he’s telling, which obviously meant a lot to him. (Far as we can tell, there are a lot of dead children, and plenty of injustice, hardship, and heartbreak.) “One False Move” and “When I Build My Beautiful House” are the least “genre-like” tracks here, and it’s too bad he couldn’t find another place for them. But likely not interested in testing his audience with another Tex-Mex detour—even one that was more upbeat than Tom Joad, low as the bar was—he shelved Inyo, concentrating instead on compiling the Tracks box and reuniting with the E Street Band again.

The new century saw him back to putting out albums on a more consistent basis, but more often, they were increasingly compiled from disparate sessions with rotating players, as with Wrecking Ball and Western Stars. Twilight Hours is another “companion” album, presenting the more orchestral pop side to the California pop of Western Stars, complete with major-seventh chords for the first time in his career. (Mighty Max Weinberg drums on most of the tunes.) He’s almost crooning here, taking on the guise of an older romantic in the depths of a midlife crisis. “Sunday Love” is the most blatant Bacharach pastiche, lyrically and arrangement-wise, among several, but he pushes his luck with the bossa-nova beat of “Follow The Sun”. “Late In The Evening” and “Two Of Us” might as well be the Spinners without the funk, considering both borrow from the same song. “Lonely Town” is downright forlorn, a cross between Tom Waits (again) and Elvis Costello’s Bacharach collaborations, while “September Kisses” channels Roy Orbison. The more paternal “I’ll Stand By You” had actually been written with the Harry Potter movies in mind; this version is from a different movie soundtrack. “Another You” and “Dinner At Eight” are just plain romantic. “High Sierra” (with lyrical echoes of Inyo as well as “Fugitive’s Dream” and “Unsatisfied Heart” from the first disc), “Sunliner”, and the almost hopeful title track are very much along the lines of the album that did come out; it’s pretty impressive that he had this much in the tank.

Capping the set is Perfect World—not an album per se, but a collection of various one-off tracks that kept falling off the stove. Any of these could conceivably have been included on Wrecking Ball or High Hopes, though they likely wouldn’t have improved them. It kicks off with the rockers everyone waited four hours to hear—once again hedging his bets that the fans wouldn’t like the other stuff in the box. The first three songs are collaborations with fellow heartland rocker Joe Grushecky, and already released by his Houserockers: “I’m Not Sleeping” sounds like Jon Bon Jovi fronting the Asbury Jukes, “Idiot’s Delight” has a Dylanesque whine, and “Another Thin Line” cops elements of several Animals songs. “The Great Depression” rolls along with banjo again and, like “If I Could Only Be Your Lover”, has some Western Stars sweep to it. It’s not his fault that “Blind Man” sounds like the Wallflowers, and “Cutting Knife” echoes Tom Petty style-wise, but even though “Rain In The River” is a little sludgy, his voice mixed to the point of near incomprehension, it kicks. Featuring the only appearance of Little Steven, the anthemic “You Lifted Me Up” is a happy love song—a rarity in this set, particularly when followed by the regret of the title track, first released in a version by John Mellencamp.

Seven new albums in five hours is a lot to take in. But each installment is treated as its own entity, complete with unique artwork, so it’s best to ingest them one at a time. Frankly, the overall quality of the music here suggests that he did himself a disservice by holding these albums back. It’s one thing to not release them for fear of alienating his audience, but doing so also made it seem like he was afraid to risk a commercial flop. Some would call that pandering. Had he taken chances, he might not have had to wait a quarter-century to be appreciated for widening his artistry, and even gotten respect for stretching himself.

Many longtime fans balked at the inflated price, even considering the heavily annotated clothbound book. Because why not, Lost And Found offered twenty “selections from the lost albums”, evenly representing each of the albums in the order they’re presented in the box. Therefore it’s pretty much all over the place, but it does include some of the more surprising left turns to be found. And just like in the big set, there’s not a single saxophone to be heard anywhere.

Bruce Springsteen Tracks II: The Lost Albums 1983-2018 (2025)—3½
Bruce Springsteen Lost And Found: Selections From The Lost Albums (2025)—3