Jane’s Addiction 3: Ritual de lo Habitual

Coming off the heels of their major-label debut, and with a nutty outspoken frontman out there, the pump was primed for Jane’s Addiction next album. Ritual de lo Habitual was provocative out of the gate, starting with the cover art. Once again a sculpture designed by Perry Farrell and his partner, it depicted, well, a threesome, complete with pubic hair. (To make the album available in stores that wouldn’t stock that cover, a more stark version with the misattributed First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was prepared.) The music is full of the Jane’s trademarks we’d expect, but in a wider spectrum that inspires positive comparison to Led Zeppelin’s more epic mid-‘70s work.

A spoken piece in Spanish introduces the band, and “Stop!” crashes through the gate with everyone firing on all cylinders. For the second album in a row Perry opens with a hearty “here we go”; the half-time bridge is very effective, as is the a cappella break. They don’t let up on “No One’s Leaving”, a slice of funk that soon turns to an all-out assault, except for when it pauses after each verse. Following a mildly atmospheric interlude underscoring defiance, “Ain’t No Right” drives the tempo back to full more of the same. “Obvious” fades in, with an incessant piano under the groove, deftly riding the wave through the bursts of accents between the dense vocals and wailing guitars. It all coasts to a close after six mesmerizing minutes, then it’s the audio-verité and barking dog opening the goofy “Been Caught Stealing”, helped along by its equally goofy video.

In an excellent demonstration of how to program albums as distinct sides, the second half is practically an entity to itself. The half-hour opens with “Three Days”, which basically fills in the details around the snapshot of the cover. One of the participants was no longer with us when the album came out, having died of an overdose and the album dedicated to her, but the fact she was likely a minor when she knew Perry likely added to his excitement. The recited prose in two speakers doesn’t help, but it’s much more interesting to hear what the band does with the music dynamically. “Then She Did…” is on a similar theme of remembrance, winding its way through trippy riffing and complementary drums for several minutes to establish a groove, with a few Big Moments, punctuated by strings and cymbals. The last such Big Moment concludes with a verse that illuminates Perry’s raison d’être: his mother’s suicide. The childhood reflection continues on “Of Course”, a gypsy stomp dominated by the Klezmer-style violin of Charlie Bisharat, recently of Shadowfax and shortly to accompany both Yanni and John Tesh. It’s a little too long—not unlike slapping yourself in the face—but the shimmering “Classic Girl” is a simple love song that ends the journey in tranquility and acceptance. He even wishes us a good night at the end.

Along with Nothing’s Shocking, Ritual de lo Habitual made the ideal side B on the Maxell tape that was their oeuvre (though you needed a 100-minute cassette to fit it all). And that would be it for a while, as the band, already fractured between the sober members and Perry’s dominance, disbanded at the close of the lengthy tour promoting the album, which included the first Lollapalooza Festival as part of its North American leg.

Jane’s Addiction Ritual de lo Habitual (1990)—4

Tears For Fears 9: Songs For A Nervous Planet

The promotional success of The Tipping Point saw Tears For Fears touring behind it over two consecutive summers, and a show from near the end of the second leg was the basis of the double live album Songs For A Nervous Planet, as well as a matching film. Stuff from the new album is mixed with the expected hits and older favorites, all impeccably performed to replicate the records, with little variation (such as the blatant quote from “Hello Goodbye” at the end of “Sowing The Seeds Of Love”). There’s a wonderful shift when Lauren Adams sings a stripped-back “Suffer The Children”, followed by the duets of “Woman In Chains” and “Badman’s Song”. We do find it interesting to hear “Break It Down Again”, the only song in the set from an album Curt Smith wasn’t on. “Shout” is the closing number, of course; you can just barely hear the crowd singing it before the first verse.

Perhaps to give the consumer a little more, the first disc begins with four new studio tracks. “Say Goodbye To Mum And Dad” mixes somber messaging with a jaunty whistled tune, while “The Girl I Call Home” starts out techno and ends anthemic. “Emily Said” is downright cheery, and blatantly personal, given the titular character speaks Roland Orzabal’s first name, and is also the name of his new bride. The children’s choir overdoes the sugar, however, and the false ending with a different coda suggests there’s another version of it somewhere in a vault. But the opposite emotion is “Astronaut”, another wish to hide from the world. (Target stores got an exclusive track in “Landlocked”.) In some ways the live portion seems like a bonus to an EP.

Tears For Fears Songs For A Nervous Planet (2024)—3

Van Morrison 51: What’s It Gonna Take?

Clearly still miffed about Covid, Van Morrison followed up the two-hour diatribe that was Latest Record Project with another 80 minutes of biased ranting from the Irish equivalent of a MAGA nut. It should be telling that the only positive review of What’s It Gonna Take? by a major news source came from the National Review.

“Dangerous” seesaws over two chords for over seven minutes, livened up only by a fiddle solo. The title track is catchy, but for the angry lyrics, and “Fighting Back Is The New Normal” makes its point over a cheesy organ. “Fodder For The Masses” is well arranged, down to the middle eight and the backing vocals, but doesn’t understand the irony of calling out “fake news”. The more meditative “Can’t Go On This Way” could easily be tweaked to be more about general heartbreak than all the ways he’s been inconvenienced, but “Sometimes It’s Just Blah Blah Blah” is just plain insulting, especially when he tries to drown out the doo-wop vocalist over the end. “Money From America” (as in no more) doesn’t even bother to find a melody.

“Not Seeking Approval” wastes its Motown beat by rhyming the title with “business as usual”, and “Damage And Recovery” rehashes all his beefs from the title track, livened only by his saxophone solos. “Nervous Breakdown” is just plain odd, as he introduces all the instruments one by one in a cartoony voice, then equates his condition with having “some kind of breakthrough”. It makes the piety and plea for unity in “Absolutely Positively The Most” all the more incongruous. We’d like to believe him when he insists “I Ain’t No Celebrity”, and he bemoans his own fame in “Stage Name”, and then “Fear And Self-Loathing In Las Vegas” finds him muttering to himself while killing time between gigs. While it’s a little repetitive, “Pretending” is by far the best song here, and the most universal.

Everyone is allowed their own opinions, of course, but until the end of the album, What’s It Gonna Take? doesn’t vary from the chosen theme enough to strengthen his arguments. We don’t want to listen to Neil Young yell about electric cars or Monsanto for the length of an album either. It’s just tedious.

Van Morrison What’s It Gonna Take? (2022)—2

Van Morrison 1: Them

As a youth in Belfast, Van Morrison was obsessed with jazz and rhythm & blues, but by the time bands like his were getting noticed, record companies were looking to jump on the British Invasion bandwagon. So over the two years and two dozen players who passed through their ranks, Them were tasked with making hit singles out of their brand of British R&B—kinda like the Animals. Producer and songwriter Bert Berns came over from New York to cash in, sometimes using one Jimmy Page to bolster the studio sound.

Somehow the Van-penned B-side of “Baby Please Don’t Go” became a huge hit (and garage band staple) on both sides of the pond, and since America was all about hits, “Gloria” was emblazoned on the cover and among three single sides added to the distillation of the excellently titled British album The Angry Young Them. It was placed at the end of side one, which began with Berns’ “Here Comes The Night”, another hit with a distinct Sam Cooke influence in the vocal. Berns also foisted “Go On Home Baby”, which features rare harmonies from another band member, on them. John Lee Hooker’s “Don’t Look Back” is a cool ballad with tasty piano, and the prominent organ of “I’m Gonna Dress In Black” makes it very much an Animals soundalike. “(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66” had already been claimed—and nailed—by the Stones.

Of Van’s own songs, “Mystic Eyes” is the standout, basically a two-chord jam with a seemingly extemporaneous recital that’s a forerunner to his later, longer ruminations. (“Little Girl” isn’t as successful, and “One Two Brown Eyes” is more notable for its slide guitar effects.) “One More Time” and “If You And I Could Be As Two” are attempts at seduction, stuck between belting and speaking, and “I Like It Like That” mostly meanders.

Less than a year later, Them Again shaved the British version down to twelve tracks, still split between Van originals and covers. Of these, their moody take on Dylan’s “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” is the clear winner. Chris Kenner’s “Something You Got” has a sax solo that might be Van, and these days it’s interesting to hear “Turn On Your Love Light” and consider that Them’s version could be what inspired the Dead to do it. “I Can Only Give You Everything” is a trashy variation on the usual garage riff, and “Out Of Sight” is the closest they got to being James Brown. Tommy Scott was now their producer, so four of his songs made the album. “Call My Name” and “How Long Baby” are rather ordinary, but “I Can Only Give You Everything” has a cool snotty riff, and the flute and piano on “Don’t You Know” predict “Moondance”.

Van himself was limited to four songwriting credits. “Could You, Would You” with its powerful drum fills opened the album, and the double acoustic guitar on “My Lonely Sad Eyes” almost makes it folk-rock. “Bad Or Good” is nice and soulful, just as “Bring ‘Em On In” is defiant.

Management issues and general disinterest led to the band splitting into factions on tour, and ultimately Van went off to be a solo artist of merit, which meant that various repackages of Them material popped up throughout the ‘70s. The first, 1972’s Them… Featuring Van Morrison, excerpted ten songs from each of the American albums but in reverse order, with dense liner notes by Lester Bangs in phone book-size type across the inner gatefold. Two years later, Backtrackin’ helpfully offered up ten tracks that weren’t on either of the American albums, including such singles as “Baby Please Don’t Go” and their cover of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Richard Cory”, as well as “Hey Girl” (another flute-laden precursor to “Cyprus Avenue”) and the previously unreleased “Mighty Like A Rose”. Three years after that, The Story Of Them offered nine more of the same, mostly blues covers but also the rare title track, a rambling memoir in changing keys originally split over two sides of a single but here continuous, the early EP track “Philosophy”, and the lovely late single “Friday’s Child”.

Eventually, The Best Of Van Morrison included “Gloria”, “Baby Please Don’t Go”, and “Here Comes The Night”; Volume Two offered “Don’t Look Back” and “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” amidst songs from the ‘80s simply because Polydor still had the rights to them. Another attempt to tell The Story Of Them Featuring Van Morrison on two CDs had to navigate mono mixes and stereo remixes, and still seemed to be somewhat random in its sequencing. It wasn’t until the band’s 50th anniversary (and Van’s partnership with Sony Legacy) that The Complete Them 1964-1967 presented a full chronological overview, with all of the singles and album tracks in context on two discs, and a third devoted to previously unreleased demos and select alternate takes and BBC sessions. Van even wrote the liner notes. Getting to hear the singles in release order doesn’t take away the haphazard construction of the albums, even in the British sequences, but we do hear his voice and songwriting improve.

Them Them (1965)—3
Them Them Again (1966)—3
Them Backtrackin’ (1974)—2½
Them The Story Of Them (1977)—2½
Them The Complete Them 1964-1967 (2015)—3

Neil Young 74: Talkin To The Trees

The latest State of the Neil arrived a year after a Crazy Horse tour that had to be cut short due to “health issues”. Once he had a new batch of songs, he went back to Shangri-La Studio with three young guys from Promise Of The Real, plus Spooner Oldham, who’s older than Neil. He dubbed his new band the Chrome Hearts—must be a C.H. thing—and three documented days of recording resulted in Talkin To The Trees. The co-producer was the legendary Lou Adler, who also happened to be his brother-in-law, and that may be one reason for a smoother sound overall, on the loud as well as quieter songs.

“Family Life” starts out nice, though his cranky old man voice doesn’t bother to find the tempo of the backing. It’s also the first of two songs that overtly discusses an apparent estrangement from his daughter and grandchildren; the heavier “Dark Mirage” doesn’t name names but is even more pointed while repeating the same woes, and frankly, it’s uncomfortable to sit through. “First Fire Of Winter” provides some relief from the hurt, even though it sounds like “Helpless” without a chorus, and about as loping as “Roger And Out”. Micah Nelson does add some nice atmospherics in the absence of Ben Keith. Seemingly a tribute to his tour bus, the acoustic “Silver Eagle” uses the melody from “This Land Is Your Land”, and so does “Lets Roll Again”, an electric stomp exhorting the American auto industry and indirectly calling out Elon Musk.

“Big Change” is a lot of yelling over loud chords; he’s done this a lot lately, but somehow it works this time. The title track is another melodic rewrite of “Western Hero” (or “Train Of Love”)—it even references “Prime Of Life”—and we don’t know if the Bob mentioned is Dylan or his own brother. “Movin Ahead” (clearly we’re dealing with an aversion to apostrophes) is a ramshackle thrash that sounds like a first take, or left over from Peace Trail; our favorite part is when the mix drops everything out but the tack piano. But with “Bottle Of Love” we finally get a bonafide classic with all the hallmarks he used to provide: switching meters and unorthodox changes played on piano and vibes with a haunting vocal melody. It leads well into “Thankful”, a cousin but not a copy of “Harvest Moon”, ending a compact album with an autumnal feel.

While a consistent release regimen keeps his message fresh, he doesn’t craft albums anymore; gone are the days when he would be able to pick and choose from several sessions over sometimes a few years. But the good definitely outweighs the bad on Talkin To The Trees, and we do hope he’s got more left in the tank. We also hope he can patch things up with his family, but that’s really none of our business.

Neil Young and the Chrome Hearts Talkin To The Trees (2025)—3

Brian Eno 30: Secret Life

By the time he was 75 years old, Brian Eno had more than a couple generations of musicians who’d been influenced by his work. One such person was Fred Gibson, also known as Fred again.. (with two periods), a DJ and producer who worked with Eno on his collaborations with Karl Hyde. While keeping eyes and ears on each other since, the Covid pandemic gave them a chance to collaborate fully and at their own pace.

Secret Life is mostly an ambient album, in that it has little to no tempo and relies mostly on muted electric pianos and other keyboards. But Fred does provide vocals, equally inspired by those of his older partner. His other trick is to interpolate other people’s songs—as he does on “Secret”, from a Leonard Cohen song, and John Prine on two others—and sample vocals from a variety of sources. Those contributors are acknowledged in the same list as the other engineers and producers.

For the most part the album floats along, but “Enough” and “Trying” have more prominent vocals and energetic backing melodies that refuse to stay in the background, particularly when the static is mixed up. What little percussion the album has comes from the sampled voices. There’s so much Fred here it’s not clear what Eno brought to the table, but that was probably the point.

Fred again.. Brian Eno Secret Life (2023)—3

Warren Zevon 1: Wanted Dead Or Alive

The man who would one day be called one of the best American songwriters of his generation had a slow start to notoriety. Warren Zevon’s first recordings were as part of a Sonny & Cher-styled psychedelic duo called lyme & cybelle, then he wrote some songs for the Turtles. In 1970 his first album came out, credited under his surname and produced by entrepreneur and sexual predator Kim Fowley. While Wanted Dead Or Alive does have some of the style and idiosyncrasies that would become his hallmark, it’s very much stuck in its time. With backing mostly by future Byrd Skip Battin and onetime Love drummer Drachen Theaker, it’s got a clunky sound that occasionally veers into studio trickery. The man himself plays all the guitars, mostly in a blues style, and piano.

Fowley supplied the title track, which is still suited to Zevon’s vocal, even where double-tracked. “Hitch-Hiking Woman” also drives a simple riff into the ground, but the first real showcase for his talent is “She Quit Me”, which had already been covered for the Midnight Cowboy soundtrack, and here is just his acoustic guitar, voice, and wailing harmonica. (Thankfully, he’d back off from the vibrato in the future.) “Calcutta” is another dirty blues, supposedly written by one Xavier Fletcher and something of a prediction of the first Crazy Horse album. And then there’s his cover of “Iko Iko”, wherein his signature piano flair is drowned out by kids singing along playground-style.

On side two we get music that most resembles his later work, from the lyrics to the arrangements, though some of the embellishments on “Traveling In The Lightning” are a bit much. “Tule’s Blues” is a mostly country strum with all the instruments mixed high, which is also the case with the darkly humorous spoof “A Bullet For Ramona”, though somebody else supplied the lyrics. “Gorilla” is more sludge over mostly one chord that kills three minutes on an already short album, whereas “Fiery Emblems” is an intricate instrumental with changing time signatures, a swirling coda, and what sounds like backwards drums throughout.

While he did have his champions at this early stage, Wanted Dead Or Alive did have enough of an original sound, nor the industry clout, to make much of an impression. Much like Harry Nilsson’s debut album, it remains a curio.

Zevon Wanted Dead Or Alive (1970)—2½

Jimi Hendrix 12: Live At Winterland

Just in time for the music industry’s celebration of the 20th anniversary of the Summer of Love came the first “new” Jimi Hendrix album specifically designed for the CD market. The first product of Rykodisc’s brief affiliation with the Estate, Live At Winterland was compiled from a three-day residency at a converted San Francisco ice skating rink the week Electric Ladyland was released. The compilers had six shows to choose from, and only repeated one performance from The Jimi Hendrix Concerts.

By this time his manager was professionally recording his concerts, so the source used was superior to anyone’s bootlegs. This CD was produced by Alan Douglas and future Beach Boys catalog maven Mark Linett, and they did a decent job of presenting the trio as they were, seamlessly blended to simulate a single show. After Bill Graham’s introduction (a Douglas trope), they plow through “Fire” and “Manic Depression”, then Jimi provides an explanatory intro for a jam on Cream’s “Sunshine Of Your Love”. “Spanish Castle Magic” is marred by buzzing amplifiers, and he acknowledges the absence of “Red House” from the American version of his first album. Jack Casady of Jefferson Airplane sits in on bass for “Killing Floor”; “Tax Free”, an instrumental familiar from War Heroes, gets an eight-minute excerpt. From there it’s a good run through “Foxey Lady”, “Hey Joe”, and “Purple Haze” right into “Wild Thing”. All in all, a solid listen. (Five years later, the album celebrated an anniversary of its own with the release of Live At Winterland+3, containing—you guessed it—three more songs on a 30-minute bonus disc, including a lengthy exploration on “Are You Experienced”.)

In this century, once the Estate realized that fans would be interested in multi-disc archival digs, the shows were mined for a four-CD package simply titled Winterland. However, as would be their wont, they still took liberties with history, by curating a disc each from each day’s two shows, and adding a fourth of “extras” from three of the shows, bolstered by an interview conducted two months earlier on the opposite coast. (Amazon customers got another disc with a little over a half an hour of music from eight months earlier at a different Bill Graham venue, most of which was previously released as an official bootleg, and notable for the first collaboration with Buddy Miles, on a cover of “Dear Mr. Fantasy” in two pieces because the tape ran out. Meanwhile, a single disc of Winterland “highlights” muddied up the discography further.)

Being a new mix spearheaded by Eddie Kramer, the sound is different from the Rykodisc releases; they even restored Herbie Rich’s organ and Virgil Gonsalves’ flute on songs where they’d been omitted earlier. But there was still some editing and combining of performances to enhance general listenability, and some chatter heard on the old CDs didn’t make it. There is naturally repetition of several songs, but he never played anything the same way twice, and for the most part the set focuses on songs that enabled his soloing as opposed to just playing the hits and familiar album tracks, which he does too. (“The Star-Spangled Banner” makes two appearances, once of which is compiled from two performances; the October 11 “Voodoo Child” remains exclusive to Live At Winterland+3, but at least the set included full versions of songs included on The Jimi Hendrix Concerts, which had since been deleted.) Nearly five hours of music is a lot to take in, but it’s educational to hear him in an environment where he could settle in for a stint and stretch, rather than just rush from town to town and show to show.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience Live At Winterland (1987)—3½
1992 Live At Winterland+3: same as 1987, plus 3 extra tracks
The Jimi Hendrix Experience Winterland (2011)—3½

Elton John 27: Greatest Hits Volume III

The live album notwithstanding, 1987 was Elton John’s first year without new material since his first album. But thanks to the label switch, he still had product in the racks. Somehow Geffen was able to license two tracks that were on MCA, which is how a third volume of so-called greatest hits happened, ten years after the last one, and mere months after Live In Australia came out.

Side one is indisputably strong, proof that even his lesser albums had great songs. It’s hard to argue with this lineup: “I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues”; “Mama Can’t Buy You Love”; “Little Jeannie”; “Sad Songs”; “I’m Still Standing”; “Empty Garden”. We’d like to say the same for side two, but these particular hits just aren’t as strong. Much as we like “Kiss The Bride” and “Blue Eyes”, “Heartache All Over The World” is just too fluffy, and “Too Low For Zero” hadn’t even charted as a single. “Nikita” belongs here, of course, but “Wrap Her Up” was likely included due to the presence of George Michael, then riding high with Faith.

Only five years later his catalog was standardized worldwide, with everything in the US reverting to MCA (even though Geffen was part of MCA by this time anyway). Because of licensing and whatnot, songs on the second hits album had been switched, but that meant that “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word” and “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” were now selling points on the revamped Greatest Hits 1976-1986. Best of all, those songs replaced “Heartache” and “Too Low For Zero” figuratively and literally, and the set even added “Who Wears These Shoes?”

The sequence was different from the Geffen album, shuffling the “new” songs on side one of the cassette—there was no LP version, being 1992—and going chronologically for side two. Geeks like us also appreciated the copious track information, including players and even recording dates. While the cover photo reflected the year of release and not the material, it’s still a strong collection, and preferred to its first incarnation.

Elton John Elton John’s Greatest Hits Volume III 1979-1987 (1987)—3
Elton John Greatest Hits 1976-1986 (1992)—3½

Marshall Crenshaw 13: Jaggedland

It should be clear that Marshall Crenshaw wasn’t made for whatever times he’s in, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of place. Jaggedland was his first album after a six-year stretch, and an apt title for the guitar sound of this music, which always sounds like it’s being played in a big room.

“Right On Time” mentions Bobby Vinton in the first line, but we should assume his fanbase will get the reference. The edginess turns pensive on the softer, slower “Passing Through”, but things pick up a tad on “Someone Told Me”, with lots of sliding guitars. He overdoes the title of “Stormy River”, but for stupid rock ‘n roll peppered with sound effects, it’s tough to beat “Gasoline Baby”. “Never Coming Down” is full of unexpected chord changes, fittingly matching the portrait he’s painting, and “Long Hard Road” offers a little more hope. Violin and cello color the instrumental and complex title track and the jazzy “Sunday Blues”. The mood finally becomes hopeful on “Just Snap Your Fingers”, and “Eventually” sports some of his classic hooks and harmonies. The pedal steel suggests a lowkey closer, but “Live And Learn” hitches a gallop for its looking back.

The backing as usual is stellar, including Crenshaw regulars Diego Voglino and Greg Leisz, along with Jim Keltner, the MC5’s Wayne Kramer, and percussionist extraordinaire Emil Richards. As had been his wont of late, Jaggedland isn’t a sunny pop album, but it is consistent with his catalog.

Marshall Crenshaw Jaggedland (2009)—3

Queen 12: Hot Space

While the band had proved they could evolve with the times, with Hot Space Queen seemed to go completely off the rails. There’s no mistaking that voice for Freddie Mercury, but especially with the dearth of guitars, much of the album sounds little like the Queen everybody (thought they) knew.

The band that boldly eschewed synthesizers now embraced keyboards and drum machines, and with Arif Mardin-arranged horns, “Staying Power” was an ironic title in a country that rejected disco. “Dancer” is a slower strut that improves whenever the guitars come in to crunch, especially that nutty solo, but most of it is burbling funk. “Back Chat” sounds even more like Chic than “Another One Bites The Dust” did, and the canned drums, which now sound so generic from countless records, do not help at all. We will admit that the tune isn’t that far off from the type of dance songs the Rolling Stones had put out recently. “Body Language” was the first single (and video) released for the album, almost all Freddie and synths; the reaction of many suburban kids was that it sounded “kinda gay,” which was Freddie’s point, of course. Then there’s Roger Taylor’s “Action This Day”, which has an incessantly pounding beat, subtle guitars, but rhythm piano for a trashy sound. An unexpected neo-classical flourish heralds a surprising saxophone solo.

Side two is a major improvement. “Put Out The Fire” finally, mercifully, has some Brian May riffing for a potential stadium anthem. What’s not immediately obvious is the song’s anti-gun content, culminating in cries of “shoot!”, which set up “Life Is Real”, subtitled “Song For Lennon”, and written in memory of the fallen Beatle. The somber mood is fleeting, as Roger’s pro-love “Calling All Girls” uses prominent 12-string acoustic guitars but still sounds robotic; the video doubled down on that feeling. The sentiment continues on “Las Palabras De Amor”, helpfully subtitled “The Words Of Love” for those who don’t speak Spanish, driven by swirling arpeggiated keyboards, real drums, and gang harmonies. The lazily jazzy “Cool Cat” now sounds like a template for George Michael, particularly in the falsetto vocal approach. A very trying album closes with “Under Pressure”, the untouchable duet with David Bowie that had already appeared on the American Greatest Hits, but not elsewhere.

Hot Space was not a hit in America, and was seen as something of a stumble around the world. Some of the songs would improve onstage, but it would take some time for the band to recover commercially. The U.S. took even longer to come around, by which time it was too late. (The first CD reissue included a new remix of “Body Language” with guitar and piano added, which was not included in the expanded CD two decades later in favor of three live tracks from 1982, the remixed single version of “Back Chat”, and the vintage B-side “Soul Brother”.)

Queen Hot Space (1982)—2½
1991 Hollywood reissue: same as 1982, plus 1 extra track
2011 remaster: same as 1982, plus 5 extra tracks

John Entwistle 6: The Rock

Back in 1985, both Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey were enjoying solo success, particularly in the wake of The Who’s reunion at Live Aid. But John Entwistle didn’t have the same luck. He put a band together, first with Barriemore Barlow of Jethro Tull on drums, soon replaced by young Zak Starkey. Other musicians came and went, eventually settling on a lineup fronted by singer Henry Small and dubbed The Rock. In between wine deliveries and excursions to various pubs, an album was completed, but Entwistle didn’t have any pull at the labels, and there it sat.

Ten years later, the Canadian label Griffin Music had made some inroads releasing CDs of licensed BBC sessions and reviving careers of various classic rockers and hair metal refugees needing a home. That made it a perfect place for The Rock, which went from a limited self-produced release sold at club shows to wider distribution. But what people finally got to hear likely didn’t impress them. Instead of John Entwistle’s unique style and sense of humor, he was reduced to the level of sideman. He doesn’t sing at all anywhere, and only plays horns on one track, though his distinctive bass is discernible in the busy mix, and most prominently on the four songs he actually wrote. “Last Song” even shares something of a keyboard hook with “Had Enough”. Of the rest, “Stranger In A Strange Land” has a decent hook, probably because it was co-written by Eddie “I Think I’m In Love” Money and the guy responsible for “Take My Breath Away” from the Top Gun soundtrack. “Suzie” would appear to be another horny love song, but the “spank the monkey” chant gives away the plot. The overall effect is an album that could have been recorded by the late ‘80s version of Bad Company. That didn’t prevent it from being reissued ten years later, with bonus tracks (including a demo with his own vocal on “Love Doesn’t Last”) and repackaged with its older brothers in a box set in 2024.

It also didn’t stop Rhino from getting in the act the same year with a solo compilation. Thunderfingers purported to offer “the best of John Entwistle”, which in their minds meant two-thirds of the album devoted to selections from his first two solo albums. The next three albums were represented by two songs each, but at least they had the brains to end with “Too Late The Hero”. The liner notes also included commentary from the artiste for each of the songs therein, which was nice, particularly since these albums had yet to make it to CD in America. (A decade later, as they had with Roger Daltrey, the Sanctuary label followed the expanded reissues of John’s albums with a double-disc anthology that went a little deeper, but also relied on later live performances for filler.)

John Entwistle The Rock (1996)—2
2006 Sanctuary reissue: same as 1996, plus 5 extra tracks
John Entwistle Thunderfingers: The Best Of John Entwistle (1996)—3

Dwight Twilley 6: Wild Dogs

Just when Dwight Twilley thought he finally found a label that would give his music the promotion it deserved, Wild Dogs was weeks away from being released when the head of the label was busted in a payola scandal that would end up rocking the industry. He was able to get distribution through a subsidiary, but only begrudgingly, and was essentially buried. It’s not likely the album would have sold anyway, given the overreliance on programmed Linn drum machines, sterile synthesizers, and too much reverb (as opposed to slap-back echo) everywhere. Only some of the blame belongs with producer Val Garay, who’d foisted “Bette Davis Eyes” on an unexpecting world a mere five years before.

The sunny piano and swirly strings wouldn’t seem to fit a song with the title of “Sexual”, but there you go. The title track might have passed for an old Dwight Twilley Band outtake if not for the production, which also crippled “You Don’t Care”, another song that deserved a lot better. Kim Carnes joins the chorus of the admittedly catchy “Hold On”, while Phil Seymour is credited with backing vocals on the mildly Beatlesque keyboard-wise “Shooting Stars”—fittingly, as the song is about him—but we can’t hear him.

He puts on his rockabilly voice for “Baby Girl”, and the verses of “Ticket To My Dream” has some of the Halloweeny aspects of similar songs, balanced by the choruses. “Secret Place” begins like an animated sci-fi movie soundtrack, but turns into an ordinary soundtrack; at least Susan Cowsill is high in the mix. “Radio” is pretty much tossed-off, an attempt to hold up that format when video had taken over. It’s back to piano triplets for the mildly doo-wop “Spider & The Fly”.

Despite glimmers here and there, Wild Dogs is a case of decent songs produced all wrong; indeed, the demos included on the expanded CD contain his original demos for eight of the tunes. Had anyone paid attention out there, any of these could have been radio hits, but the album made zero impact, and Dwight went back to Tulsa to concentrate on his family.

Dwight Twilley Wild Dogs (1986)—2
2022 CD reissue: same as 1986, plus 9 extra tracks

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