Thomas Dolby 6: A Map Of The Floating City

When we last left Thomas Dolby, he was writing music for video games. In that period away from the record business he went even further into emerging technology, creating tools and content for interactive applications, including ringtones. So when he finally did return to the commercial marketplace in the new century, it was with an album that tied in with a online multiplayer game that we don’t think is accessible anymore. (We looked.)

A Map Of The Floating City was conceived and recorded on a restored lifeboat deposited in the back garden of his English home. While his musical technology has kept up with the times, it still sounds like a Thomas Dolby album. (Old friends like Matthew Seligman, Kevin Armstrong, and the woman who sang on “Hyperactive!” show up in the credits.) There is a loose concept to be discerned within the sections of the album, which had been released as themed online EPs in the months leading to the full release of the album, although in a different order than the tracks appear here. But anyway.

Urbanoia is the first part, and it’s an apt description. “Nothing New Under The Sun” is the bold opening statement, with clever rhymes and sardonic wit that seems to poke fun at himself, even stating “any fool can write a hit” at one point. As fresh as that track sounds, “Spice Train” is driven by the wacky synth sounds most people would associate with the guy, with lots of exotica touches that are kinda distracting from the lyrics. “Evil Twin Brother” is another travelogue, and features prominent vocals not only in Russian by Regina Spektor, but also the guy who sang the original Pokémon theme. “A Jealous Thing Called Love” has something of a bossa nova feel filtered through Bacharachian horns, redeemed by a killer chorus.

While the horns carry over onto the doomed love story in “Road To Reno”, the journey moves sideways for the Amerikana section. “The Toad Lickers” is near Cajun bluegrass, and a little too silly. But with its piano and fretless bass, “17 Hills” is a lovely turn away from some of the gimmickry we’ve heard so far, and right when the drums come in, so does Mark Knopfler, soloing tastefully over the balance of the track. Something of a Sinatra pastiche, “Love Is A Loaded Pistol” keeps us safe in the low-key if melancholy mood.

“Oceanea”—the “title track” of the last section—is even dreamier, with a simple yet haunting theme played on guitar, and even lovelier when the verses are sung by Eddi Reader. The island feel and return to bossa nova on “Simone” seems a little too much like a retread, and while “To The Lifeboats” stays too much in that mode, the loud bridge helps shake things up.

While it stumbles shortly after it starts, A Map Of The Floating City eventually finds its way through all the styles to deliver a satisfying listen. A nice surprise indeed. (Those who picked up the limited double-disc edition got instrumental mixes of the songs.)

Thomas Dolby A Map Of The Floating City (2011)—3

Suzanne Vega 12: Flying With Angels

The first thing one notices about Suzanne Vega’s ninth studio album is that it rocks. Moreso than any of her albums, the drums and guitars have an edge that others didn’t, even with players that usually deliver in other contexts. But she’s always done what she’s wanted, and with the assistance of longtime collaborator Gerry Leonard, Flying With Angels is where she is now.

“Speakers’ Corner” crashes out of the speakers from the first beat, with riffs and “oo” harmonies making it more what we used to call radio-friendly than most of her album openers. The lyrics, while subtle, are timely. The title track has more familiar ambient elements; in fact it sounds like a cousin of “Small Blue Thing” without being a retread in the slightest. “Witch” begins in a similarly ethereal space, but as soon as the main character appears, it spirals into a groove packed with tension and uncertainty; we’re not sure if the attacker is literal or metaphorical, but the damage inflicted is real. So “Chambermaid” is very much a welcome shift, a simultaneous homage and answer to Dylan’s “I Want You”, so much so that he gets justifiable writing credit. But “Love Thief” is completely unexpected, a sexy soul steamer with prominent vocals by Catherine Russell. With the possible exception of the “Tom’s Diner” remix, it’s unlike anything else in her catalog.

Her Sprechstimme approach hasn’t always impressed us, and using that in her tribute to “Lucinda” (as in Williams) might have been specifically to avoid singing like the woman, even when the musical backing could pass for the real thing. “Last Train From Mariupol” is mournful on its own, and moreso when you realize she’s singing about the city in Ukraine that was decimated by the Russians. The instruments used are very effective. “Alley” returns sonically and thematically to the title track, and evocative in its reference to a certain Marc Chagall painting. There’s another sharp turn with “Rats”, but her mostly spoken, breathless delivery of the lyrics let down any promise in the melody of the chorus. It’s an ugly song, which was probably the point, but that even makes the reverie of thwarted courtship at the heart of “Galway” a welcome escape.

Even with all the diversions, Flying With Angels still sounds like a Suzanne Vega album. It certainly doesn’t suffer from sameness, and hopefully her next one won’t take as long to emerge.

Suzanne Vega Flying With Angels (2025)—3½

Roger McGuinn 3: Roger McGuinn & Band

In the ‘70s, you made an album a year, as long as the label was willing to keep you signed. So Roger McGuinn put a band together from some country rock players and recorded Roger McGuinn & Band. It’s a strange package to begin with, as he’s the only person shown on the front cover; they are shown looking down at him from the monitors on the back. But he meant it with the title, because most of the songs were indeed written by his otherwise not-very-notable supporters.

The familiar jangle we expect from him is buried on the opening “Somebody Loves You”, a generic rocker, but is lightly picked on his cover of Dylan’s “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door”; Roger himself had played on the original two years before. “Bull Dog” isn’t the first sung he’s sung with a canine lead character, but this one is certainly used in a more menacing way than Old Blue was. “Painted Lady” is a pleasant example of ‘70s soft rock, but it’s not clear why he needed to record another version of “Lover Of The Bayou”, though it certainly kicks.

Calypso isn’t the strong suit of most rock ‘n rollers, so “Lisa” comes off like one of Stephen Stills’ worst ideas, or Jimmy Buffett’s entire catalog, but Roger wrote this all by himself. The keyboard player’s “Circle Song” is basically “Peaceful Easy Feeling” with more dobro and banjo, while “So Long” is another by-numbers highway anthem. Speaking of which, “Easy Does It” may well have been inspired by a bumper sticker he saw, but he manages to make the sentiment work. Another retread closes this side, in this case “Born To Rock And Roll”, last heard on the Byrds reunion album and not much better here.

Any other band might have been proud of Roger McGuinn & Band, but we expect more of Roger McGuinn, with or without a band. He was clearly still finding his way, though it did give work to an up-and-coming producer who would helm future hits by Boston, Charlie Daniels, and Quarterflash, among others. (In a late effort to showcase the band, the expanded CD includes live versions of “Wasn’t Born To Follow” and “Chestnut Mare”.)

Roger McGuinn Roger McGuinn & Band (1975)—2½
2004 Sundazed reissue: same as 1975, plus 2 extra tracks

Pink Floyd 21: At Pompeii

One of the challenges of rock concert films has always been how much to show of the audience. Pink Floyd got around this by being filmed performing a concert in 1971 with no audience. First released the following year, Pink Floyd At Pompeii placed the band within the amphitheater in Pompeii in southern Italy, nearly 1900 years after it had been decimated by Mount Vesuvius, where the handsome and occasionally shirtless musicians played for the cameras, which also followed them as they wandered around desolate hills and smoking craters. It was a big hit on the midnight movie circuits, and required viewing for young stoners off grainy VHS tapes and eventually DVDs.

Of course, as is clear from the film, not every performance depicted was filmed in Pompeii, as signified by Richard Wright’s missing beard and shots of them playing standing on a wooden floor. But to be able to see the band up close and actually playing, as opposed to shadowed figures on a distant stage amidst a light show, along with the added footage of recording The Dark Side Of The Moon and snide commentary in the Abbey Road studio canteen, makes the film worthwhile. They were, after all, a pretty tight band, and masters of dynamics.

Fans will already know that the Early Years box included five of the songs from the film by “mistake”, with “Echoes” presented as a single track instead of being split in half as it was for the film. plus an extra alternate take of “Careful With That Axe, Eugene”. That was nice, but when the original film reels turned up for a full restoration, Steven Wilson was brought in to mix an official CD version. At Pompeii – MCMLXXII offers the live performances as seen in the film, beginning with “Pompeii Intro”, consisting of a simulated heartbeat and droning synthesizer, followed by the first half of “Echoes”, which stops right before the seagulls come in. “Eugene”, “A Saucerful Of Secrets”, and “Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun” are improvements on the Ummagumma versions. “One Of These Days” has power, and an instrumental variation on “Seamus” (here titled “Mademoiselle Nobs”, after the dog utilized to howl along) becomes a showcase for David Gilmour on harmonica and Roger Waters playing blues riffs. The second half of “Echoes” provides a good basis for the camera to float away into the sky.

All that totals just over an hour’s worth of music, so the package had a bonus disc including the alternate “Eugene” and the unedited “Saucerful Of Secrets”, which is about two and a half minutes longer. It would have been nice to include “Echoes” as one continuous track, but that might have angered the folks who’d shelled out for that box set.

Pink Floyd At Pompeii – MCMLXXII (2025)—3½

Badfinger 8: Head First

Way back in 1974, they had just completed their excellent Wish You Were Here album, but Badfinger was so burnt out that Pete Ham tried to quit. Threatened with further financial ruin, he was persuaded to stay on for the promotional tour, for which they’d already recruited one Bob Jackson to fill in on keyboards and guitar. Their contract required them to put out yet another album post-haste, so they went back to Apple Studios with Kiss producers Kenny Kerner and Richie Wise, but without Joey Molland, who wasn’t considered as important as Pete to the powers that be to keep him from quitting. They were given exactly two weeks to record the basic tracks.

What was soon dubbed Head First by Tom Evans (as that’s how he saw the band going into the proverbial lion’s mouth) was given a few perfunctory mixes to please the label. But as litigation had already started against the band due to their manager’s criminal activity, the album was effectively dead in the water. To make matters worse, Wish You Were Here was pulled from shelves until everything could be sorted. Mere months later, Pete was dead.

The first mixed sequence of the album shows potential, if well short of genius. “Lay Me Down” is an obvious attempt to write a catchy hit single with a hook, which Pete could easily do, and which he’d done better. Jackson’s “Turn Around” is even heavier rock than Joey used to play, but his lead vocal just doesn’t sound right in this band. Pete comes back strong with “Keep Believing”, one of those pep talks that could also apply to himself, even as it resembles “Apple Of My Eye”. Mike Gibbins stays in a backwoods mode with “Rockin’ Machine”, a very brief statement at just under 90 seconds, then Tom Evans comes in brooding with “Passed Fast”, a bleak slab of rock written and sung with Jackson.

“Saville Row” is an unfinished instrumental, heavy on the type of electronic keyboards that Pete was not known for using, and fades after about a minute. It does work as a prelude to “Moonshine”, a pleasant collaboration between Tom, Mike, and Jackson, with nice layered harmonies and sweet lead guitar. Tom’s real feelings are made clear in the bitter “Rock ‘N’ Roll Contract” and “Hey Mr. Manager”; in between, Mike’s “Back Again” nicely balances acoustic strumming with synth string touches.

Besides being short, Head First is not a happy album; the pressure of having to create material at such a rate had clearly taken its toll, and there’s no way to know whether it would have made any impact on any charts. So there it sat, until four of the songs (Pete’s two gems, plus “Moonshine” and “Passed Fast”) were included on Rhino’s The Best Of Badfinger Volume II some 15 years after the fact.

Once things got more straightened out at the end of the century, Badfinger biographer and champion Dan Matovina was able to arrange the first full release of the album. As the master tapes were missing, one of the rough mixes was used, but despite opening with “Lay Me Down”, the rest of the songs were shuffled for “listenability” purposes. “Saville Row” still led into “Moonshine”, but was cut down to 36 seconds for no stated reason, and ending the album with “Rockin’ Machine” makes it seem like an afterthought. To draw people in, a bonus, even shorter disc contained acoustic demos of unreleased songs, mostly with somber lyrical content: six from Pete (including “Lay Me Down”), three from Mike, and one each from Jackson and Tom.

The original multitracks were finally discovered in time for the album’s 50th anniversary, or at least the anniversary of its recording, so Bob Jackson was able to get it back in circulation again. This freshly mixed version had no extras, but rejigged the order (past “Lay Me Down”) yet again, moving an artificially extended and retitled “Savile Row (2024)” to the end of the program.

As an epilogue to the whole sad saga, Head First is a letdown. But we always like hearing Pete Ham’s music, so it’s good to have. Meanwhile, several CDs worth of his demos are streaming officially, so that will also help keep his memory alive.

Badfinger Head First (2000)—3
2025 50th Anniversary Special Edition: “same” as 2000, minus 11 extra tracks

Grateful Dead 22: One From The Vault

Back in 1975, the Grateful Dead had just finished recording their Blues For Allah album, and invited a bunch of radio people from a nearby convention to hear it as part of their promotion. Fifteen or so years later, the existence of a superior recording (as broadcast on the radio soon after) coupled with the novelty of being captured in the midst of their lengthy break from touring made it a good choice to kick off their latest archival series, on their own label. (In solidarity with the environmental movement to eliminate longbox packaging for CDs, the album came in the new digipack style, which made it easy to display on store racks, and prone to scuffs and tearing at home.)

One From The Vault presents the complete show, the band kicking in while Bill Graham is doing his introduction, with the first set (and disc) concentrating mostly on side one of the album, melding in “It Must Have Been The Roses” and “Eyes Of The World”, which incorporates a “Drums” detour. The second set starts with a slowed-down “Around And Around”, closing the first disc as the rest of the show filled the second disc to capacity. Following “Sugaree” and “Big River”, it’s on to side two of Blues For Allah, with another “Drums” detour, “The Other One”, “Goin’ Down The Road Feelin’ Bad”, and “U.S. Blues” before ending with a 20-minute exploration of the title suite, complete with miked crickets, for the only time ever. It’s a good gig musically as well as historically. (Only one other show from this era has officially surfaced, albeit in a limited 80-CD box set: a free concert in conjunction with Jefferson Starship; see below.)

The album was followed into stores a week later by an all-star tribute album distributed by Arista, who were probably wondering when they’d get another Dead album themselves. Deadicated was designed to benefit rainforest and indigenous peoples causes, and featured mostly faithful covers by the likes of Elvis Costello, Cowboy Junkies, Warren Zevon, Indigo Girls, Los Lobos, Dr. John, and new sideman Bruce Hornsby. A few Georgia Satellites and Heartbreakers gang up as the Harshed Mellows to stomp through “U.S. Blues”, and Suzanne Vega manages to create a medley of “China Doll” and “Cassidy”. Dwight Yoakam and Lyle Lovett mildly countrify “Truckin’” and “Friend Of The Devil” respectively; Burning Spear takes “Estimated Prophet” even further into reggae; Midnight Oil matches the mystery of “Wharf Rat”; and Jane’s Addiction makes “Ripple” fairly goofy. All in all, the matchups work and the album flows.

Grateful Dead One From The Vault (1991)—3
     Archival release of same vintage:
     • 30 Trips Around The Sun: The Definitive Live Story 1965-1995 (2015)
Deadicated: A Tribute To The Grateful Dead (1991)—3½

Mickey Hart: Rolling Thunder

While Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir were busy with their own solo albums, exiled drummer Mickey Hart recorded one of his own in his Marin County barn. Rolling Thunder went some distance from the traditional Dead sound, but sported appearances by most of the band, as well as contributions from members of Quicksilver Messenger Service, Jefferson Airplane, and other notable Frisco musicians, plus the Tower of Power horns, Stephen Stills on one track, and two well-known tabla players augmenting his own percussion to present something of a world music fusion.

The album was named after the self-styled medicine man who provides the opening “Shoshone Invocation”. This segues into the rainstorm that heralds “The Main Ten”, better known as “Playing In The Band”, sung as usual by Bobby. “Fletcher Carnaby” is a Robert Hunter lyric set to a jarring psychedelic arrangement and growled by David Freiberg, but the mood returns to spacey on “The Chase (Progress)”, which pits Mickey against Zakir Hussain’s tabla while Jerry’s guitar adds color. A highlight is “Blind John”, a fireside strum with a martial rhythm and trademark high harmonies by Grace Slick.

Freiberg growls the garbled lyrics to the rockin’ “Young Man”, while “Deep, Wide And Frequent” features the horns and four guitar players competing over a very complicated meter. Built on the rhythm of an actual water pump, “Pump Song” was the basis for what Deadheads already knew as “Greatest Story Ever Told”. Jerry’s credited here for “insect fear”, which dominates the end of the track, leading into “Granma’s Cookies”, another piece with Mickey and Zakir. Driven by Freiberg’s dominant piano, “Hangin’ On” closes the program with another rocker.

One’s enjoyment of Rolling Thunder will certainly depend on how much one likes drum circles and the Tower of Power horns. Either way, it’s an interesting little side trip.

Mickey Hart Rolling Thunder (1972)—3

Neil Young 73: Oceanside Countryside

Accepted Neil lore is that he once prepared an album of mostly solo acoustic songs to be called Oceanside Countryside, to which the label execs suggested he add more instrumentation. Rather than be offended, he did exactly that, resulting in what would be eventually released as Comes A Time.

Decades later, one of the discs in the massive Archives Vol. III box was titled Oceanside Countryside. Because there was no documentation saying otherwise, it could be inferred that the disc of that title presents the original sequence, which is not the case. Such is the confusing nature of Neil’s Archives, and the thankless task of organizing things that evolved regularly and often without reason. Enough people asked about it, and he eventually confirmed that the original Oceanside Countryside sequence would indeed be its own entity, kicking off the Analog Originals Series, but also designated as Special Release Series #7. (Adding further to the confusion is the cover photo, which had already been seen on the inner sleeve of American Stars ‘N Bars, which had been released before most of the songs on this album had been recorded.)

Keen listeners will notice that this rejected album includes three songs that would end up on side one of Hawks & Doves, one of which was also one of two songs rescued from the Chrome Dreams miscarriage. Then again, Comes A Time itself ended up using two older songs from a Crazy Horse session, so it’s all fluid.

Side one, or “Oceanside”, presents five songs with only the slightest overdubs by the man himself. That means those harmonies on “Sail Away” are his, and using Nicolette Larson for the final version (eventually released on Rust Never Sleeps) was a good idea. “Lost In Space” doesn’t seem quite as weird in this context, and look! There’s “Captain Kennedy” again, making its third appearance on a shelved album. Even without the rhythm section, harmonies, and strings that would be added, “Goin’ Back” is still lovely, and “Human Highway” is also just fine without the extras.

As with Comes A Time, side two (or “Countryside”, natch) is more overtly country. It also features additional musicians on most of the tracks, though he harmonizes with himself again on “Field Of Opportunity”, and not always well, so this was definitely improved when Nicolette was overdubbed. Rufus Thibodeaux continues to saw his fiddle on “Dance Dance Dance”, which would have been a bold choice now that “Love Is A Rose” was out on Decade. “The Old Homestead” is brought forward from the Homegrown era, and is here shorter by 31 seconds than the released version, thanks to two couplets being excised for no reason we can determine. His old favorite “It Might Have Been” gets another treatment; frankly, “Four Strong Winds” was a better substitution. The familiar version of “Pocahontas” closes us out, and it’s all Neil with no other players, bringing us full circle for another spin.

So while it’s not as “lost” an album to the extent that Homegrown and Chrome Dreams were, Oceanside Countryside would have been just fine, if considered a little slight, had it come out as originally envisioned. Today it’s a nice little side view, and still predicts his more overtly country moves in just a few years’ time, and not just because these were the first recordings he made with Rufus. People may well be miffed at the idea of so many repeats in their collections, but that’s why Neil streams it on his website.

Neil Young Oceanside Countryside (2025)—3½

Fairport Convention 4: Liege & Lief

For their third album in the space of a calendar year, Fairport Convention had to regroup. First, they needed a drummer to replace the deceased Martin Lamble, and did so with Dave Mattacks, who would go on to have an incredible career behind the kit. Dave Swarbrick, who’d fiddled on the last album, was brought in as a full member, and would be a key part of the sound of Liege & Lief.

It’s been called the first true British folk-rock album, and for good reason. It was woodshed and developed in a communal house, just like Traffic and The Band, with a focus on traditional folk melodies transferred to modern electric instruments. Even the new songs developed by the songwriters in the band sounded like they were centuries old already.

Case in point: “Come All Ye” sets the scene wonderfully, a call to join in the happy stomp, complete with lines about each of the players. “Reynardine” was one of those old songs, here delivered very slowly to prolong the tale of seduction, the instruments droning as best they can. “Matty Groves” is even older, a tale of cuckoldry, revenge, and murder set cheekily to the American melody of “Shady Grove”, building tension until the clever twist ending is revealed, and the pace picks up to a stomp and another showcase for Richard Thompson. The much more soothing “Farewell, Farewell” is a Thompson lyric set to a traditional tune, sung sweetly (like everything else here) by Sandy Denny.

“The Deserter” is a subtle antiwar statement, its ultimate futility answered by an instrumental medley of four reels, electrified and precisely delivered, and seamlessly blended. Sandy comes back to sing the spooky story of “Tam Lin”, its accented execution working well with the Halloween setting. Finally, “Crazy Man Michael” was written by Thompson and Swarbrick, and by most accounts seems to address the survivor’s guilt in the aftermath of the accident that killed Martin Lamble; it’s rather haunting.

Liege & Lief follows on so well from Unhalfbricking, making them a nearly perfect pair. Such was the album’s import overseas that it’s been expanded twice: first with two outtakes added, and five years later in a Deluxe Edition that bolstered those outtakes with a few more, including “The Lady Is A Tramp” and “Fly Me To The Moon”, and several BBC sessions. But the original two-sider is still just fine.

Fairport Convention Liege & Lief (1969)—4

Nilsson 10: A Little Touch Of Schmilsson In The Night

As a further thumbed nose to mega-stardom, Harry Nilsson decided his next album would consist solely of pop standards from what we now know as the Great American Songbook. The legendary Gordon Jenkins would provide the arrangements, and buddy Derek Taylor would produce, after Richard Perry refused to be involved.

A Little Touch Of Schmilsson In The Night was a labor of love from start to finish. The sessions went very quickly by anyone’s standards (sorry), with Harry singing live in the studio with the orchestra. The gatefold LP packaging included photos of just about everyone in the orchestra, with notes for each song accompanied by old-timey sheet music art. (The album was also dedicated to Frank Wills, the security guard who called the cops during the Watergate break-in.) He even promoted it with a TV special.

Clearly, Harry did his homework, as these are very straight renditions, some complete with usually cast-off introductory sections, and none of his customary multi-tracked vocals. One exception is “It Had To Be You”, which includes a parody verse misleadingly attributed to lyricist Gus Kahn. (False; it was all Harry.) The newest composition was “This Is All I Ask”, written only fifteen years earlier by Jenkins himself. The album opens with a quote from “As Time Goes By”; other quotes crop up here and there as interludes throughout the seamless listen, and a full version of the song closes the program.

Richard Perry was correct in thinking the album would be out of step with the times, as it didn’t burn up the charts. But it’s still a lovely album, and would go on to influence Linda Ronstadt during her Nelson Riddle partnership, as well as Rod Stewart and any other rockers looking to mine the same vault. It’s also the last time his voice would sound so smooth.

Fifteen years later, A Touch More Schmilsson In The Night was released in Germany, consisting of four alternate takes, a couple songs pulled in from a later album, and six outtakes, with blatantly Sinatra-inspired cover art already co-opted by Tom Waits. Those six outtakes were included on the eventual expansion of the original album, rightfully restoring “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows”, “Make Believe”, “Trust In Me”, “It’s Only A Paper Moon”, “Thanks For The Memory”, and the full take of “Over The Rainbow” (after which he requests scotch, water, matches, and heroin) to the canon.

Nilsson A Little Touch Of Schmilsson In The Night (1973)—3½
2006 CD reissue: same as 1973, plus 6 extra tracks

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 years 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 across [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