Ringo Starr 11: Starr Struck

In 1989 Ringo Starr emerged clean and sober, and ready to launch his first of countless All-Starr Band tours. This was a complete nostalgia trip, as there was no new album to promote. However, the Rhino label was still honing their licensing skills, and managed to cobble a compilation from his post-Apple work. Not only had this stuff been out of print for a while, but it included tracks from Old Wave, making their first appearance in the U.S. They even used the original cover design for Can’t Fight Lightning. Although Starr Struck (clever title, that) didn’t have many hit singles to collect, the compilers wisely made sure to include songs that had input from the other Beatles. (The CD version added four more tracks throughout the program, including a fourth selection from Old Wave.)

“Wrack My Brain” is an excellent way to start, and “In My Car” didn’t sound that dated yet, but “Cookin’ (In The Kitchen Of Love)” still might be the dumbest song John Lennon ever gave anyone. That where the album starts to sag quality-wise, though they do try to keep things upbeat through “I Keep Forgettin’” (which should have been at least a minute shorter), “Hard Times”, and “Hey Baby”. While here it comes before “A Dose Of Rock ‘N Roll”, which has it as a tag, and starts side two, it’s still an odd sequence. (The CD at least had McCartney’s “Attention” in between them.) “Private Property” completes the Fab trifecta, and “Can She Do It Like She Dances” is even more obnoxious here. “Heart On My Sleeve”, “Sure To Fall”, and “She’s About A Mover” are fine, but don’t establish Ringo as a master interpreter.

There weren’t any hype-heavy liner notes, except for the detailed recording information for each track that we expect from Rhino. Since some of the participants were also on tour with Ringo that summer, Starr Struck was a nice tie-in. But it didn’t make the music any better. Once his albums started appearing on CD and he (presumably) retained the rights, Starr Struck went out of print, and eventually the three arguably best songs—“Wrack My Brain”, “A Dose Of Rock ‘N Roll”, and “Hey Baby”—were deservedly included on 2007’s more encompassing Photograph compilation.

Ringo Starr Starr Struck: Best Of Ringo Starr, Vol. 2 (1989)—2½
Current CD availability: none

Paul McCartney 39: Wings

Roughly a quarter-century after the last time he undertook a look back to the band he and Linda formed after the Beatles broke up, Paul McCartney presided over a biography of Wings, tied in with a feature-length film. While this would have been the perfect occasion to finally issue the overdue Archive Collection editions and expansions of London Town and Back To The Egg, he decided people would want a double-disc anthology of previously released Wings music instead. Those who bought the Blu-ray version would have likely done so for the Atmos mixes, but beyond that, Wings is another Spotify playlist in a physical format. (A pointless single disc with a dozen songs was also offered.)

For the first time, unlike Wings Greatest and Wingspan, nothing credited to Paul outside of Wings was included. It does repeat songs already collected on those, as well as All The Best! and Pure McCartney, which means all the hits and a few deep cuts from every Wings album—even the bad ones—with the only rarity being the runthrough of “Soily” from One Hand Clapping, chosen over the frankly phenomenal one from Wings Over America. In fact, none of the live work by any incarnation of the band is included. A few songs make their first remastered appearance in this century, like Denny Laine’s showcase “Deliver Your Children”, “I’ve Had Enough” and the title track from London Town, and “Getting Closer” from Back To The Egg. Those sport a copyright date of 2022, suggesting that just maybe those albums are just waiting for someone to give the okay already?

As an overview of the band, and what he hoped to achieve by forming it and sticking with it until it served its purpose, Wings works. There was some excellent music created over those nine or so years, and other people besides McCartney helped make it memorable. If new fans get to hear it and learn from it, that’s great. But for the rest of us, this was yet another missed opportunity to provide some real gems, instead of more of the same.

Wings Wings (2025)—3½

Marshall Crenshaw 14: The EP Collection

Like a lot of artists of his generation, Marshall Crenshaw saw the writing on the wall—or lack of it—in the second decade of the new century, and decided his music would be served best going directly to his fan base. So in 2012, he launched what would become an ongoing series of 10-inch vinyl EPs, crowdsourced and sold via his website. Each consisted of a new song serving as the title track, a cover, and a unique version of something in his catalog, either rerecorded or live.

Six EPs were released over a four-year period, which didn’t suggest prolific creativity, and there’s something of a darkness pervading the new songs. “I Don’t See You Laughing Now” sounds like the vocal’s been AutoTuned, but it’s got one catchy chorus. A highlight is “Stranger And Stranger”, which sports a prominent vibraphone that eventually blends with the rest of the backing. The moody “Driving And Dreaming” is very evocative of a late-night ride; like the rest of the originals, it was written with alt-folkie Dan Bern, with whom he worked on the Walk Hard soundtrack. “Red Wine” is the most developed track, with a full band arrangement and accordion. While it seems to be based on simple if forced rhymes, the undertones of “Move Now” are extremely dark, particularly in the current political situation. “Grab The Next Train” has similar forebodings, but seems to be more focused on a failed relationship.

The remakes weren’t all that radical, but the guy loved making records, so his covers have plenty of feeling. His voice is an improvement on Jeff Lynne’s on the Move’s “No Time”, while still retaining the psychedelic elements, just as “(They Long To Be) Close To You” is straight and sweet, right down to the horn solo. The Coral sitars he adds to James McMurtry’s “Right Here Now” are an unexpected touch, but then his heart is definitely in the ‘60s, as demonstrated by “Never To Be Forgotten” by the Bobby Fuller Four, John Sebastian’s “Didn’t Wanna Have To Do It” for the Lovin’ Spoonful, and “Made My Bed, Gonna Lie In It”, a great hidden gem by the Easybeats.

Once the series was done, much of the music was made available on a wider scale. #392: The EP Collection collected each of the new songs (sequenced in reverse release order) followed by the covers, with bonus tracks: a live version of the Everly Brothers’ “Man With Money” and a demo of “Front Page News”. (At some point, the individual EPs were downloadable from Amazon and iTunes, usually offering another live track, making things even more confusing for completists.)

Ten years later, thanks to a new deal with Yep Roc, he took the opportunity to remix and rerelease the music. This time, From The Hellhole shuffled the contents of the previous version for a more diverse program. However, it dropped “Right Here Now” and the previous bonus tracks, and instead added a 1991 demo of “Walkin’ Around” and covers of Rare Earth’s “I Just Want To Celebrate” and Todd Rundgren’s “Couldn’t I Just Tell You”, a song that was basically made for him. Still, as a summation of the relatively little music he’s been creating, it’s good to have.

Marshall Crenshaw #392: The EP Collection (2015)—3
Marshall Crenshaw From The Hellhole (2025)—3

Bob Dylan 70: Through The Open Window

After several volumes delving into distinct stages of Bob Dylan’s career, it took the Bootleg Series fifteen years and nine volumes before they went back to the beginning. Through The Open Window aims to tell the definitive story of his origin only touched on by his first three albums (and subsequent archival releases).

The years stated on the cover span 1956 through 1963, but after a 15-year-old Bobby Zimmerman pounding Shirley & Lee’s “Let The Good Times Roll” on a St. Paul music store piano and an acoustic ditty called “I Got A New Girl” three years later, the program really begins in 1960, where a college slacker has discovered Woody Guthrie. Before the end of the first disc he’s already made it to the Gaslight Café and Gerde’s Folk City in Greenwich Village. He enters a recording studio to blow harmonica on a Carolyn Hester session, plays a concert above Carnegie Hall, and two months later records his first album over two days. (Two familiar outtakes are included, along with two alternates, and a previously unreleased cover of Woody’s “Ramblin’ Round”.)

All the while, he’s learning how to pick guitar and play harmonica at the same time, memorizing song lyrics and attempting to write his own, and fabricating his own back story, as alluded to in the baffling “Dusty Old Fairgrounds”. Many of the selections are informal recordings, included more for historical purposes, far away from studio microphones and settings, so there are flubbed strings, off-key instruments, and the sound of a 20-year-old kid trying to sound four times his age (save a salacious ad-lib in a version of “Cocaine”; the compilers chose not to include any of the VD songs Woody wrote). When an audience is present, they are fascinated, and collaborators like Jim Kweskin and Dave Van Ronk clearly like what he has to offer. And we get to hear him improve and develop in a fairly short time.

By the third disc he’s moved on from aping Woody on vintage folk and blues songs, and started writing more topical songs about social injustice. After more harmonica work for Harry Belafonte, Victoria Spivey, and Big Joe Williams, he starts to record his second album. But it takes a while to complete, as he can’t decide whether it should be all protest songs (like the earlier, edgier “Ballad Of Hollis Brown”) or if he wants to rock out, which is why he attempts the familiar “That’s All Right Mama” and his own “Mixed-Up Confusion” with a band, eventually settle for just Bruce Langhorne on second guitar. “Worried Blues” is tried out on a 12-string, and “(I Heard That) Lonesome Whistle” shows off his Hank Williams yodel.

Come 1963, the surviving minute of his appearance on a British TV show kicks off disc five. After his April show at the Town Hall show—about a third of which is here, out of order, and including repeats of “Tomorrow Is A Long Time” and “Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie”—he comes up with the last handful of songs, a fresh mix of protest and personal, needed to finish the Freewheelin’ album. But by the summer, he was caught up in the civil rights movement, with appearances at voter rallies and the March on Washington, and made a big splash at the Newport Folk Festival. He also made a big splash with Joan Baez, who sang with him every chance she got; three of their duets are included here, including the only known performance of “Troubled And I Don’t Know Why”.

Angrier topical songs would dominate his third album, though he was also writing songs like “Farewell”, “Liverpool Gal”, “Boots Of Spanish Leather”, and “One Too Many Mornings” (the latter two heard in alternate takes) and banging the piano for “Key To The Highway” and “Bob Dylan’s New Orleans Rag”. The final two discs contain his complete Carnegie Hall concert in October 1963, twenty years after it was first teased on a promo CD. It’s a good place to finish, as that third album would come out in the first few weeks of 1964, when everything changed, and for him too. Most of the songs in the set weren’t on albums yet, so they’re fresh for the crowd, but the performance would only reinforce his image as a protest singer and nothing but.

Some of this music had circulated on bootlegs for decades, but never in this quality. Through The Open Window of course only scratches the surface of what has survived from this period, and the individual listener will have their own missing favorites (for us it’s “Black Cross” and the electric “Rocks And Gravel”) in addition to resentment over repetition, both in song choice and things that had already appeared on earlier volumes and copyright releases. As had been the label’s habit, a two-CD “highlights” condensation was also made available, but we always wonder who would actually spring for those outside of completists. With most Bob, you’re either all in, or out.

Bob Dylan Through The Open Window: The Bootleg Series Vol. 18 1956-1963 (2025)—3

John Entwistle 7: Music From Van-Pires

Sporadic reunions with The Who helped keep John Entwistle’s wine cellar stocked, but it wasn’t enough to scratch his performing itch. While he waited, he took part in a supergroup with Keith Emerson, Joe Walsh, Jeff “Skunk” Baxter, and Simon Phillips, but even they didn’t make it past a tour of Japan. He toured with Ringo’s Third All-Starr Band, and filled a similar role in an Alan Parsons-sponsored Beatles tribute. But his most consistent supporters Stateside were the other members of the John Entwistle Band, anchored by Steve Luongo on drums and vocals, and featuring a guitarist who happened to have the surname of Townsend. The combo made the rounds of clubs and small theaters, as well as the “emerging artist” stage at Woodstock 99, with a mix of new numbers and Who favorites. Outside of their Left For Live album (first released in 1998 and expanded following his death in a so-called deluxe edition) the only studio work the band did was for the soundtrack of an animated kids’ TV series.

We’ve never seen Van-Pires—and apparently we’re not alone in that—but it reads like a cross between Transformers and Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. Supposedly John was asked to provide a new song per episode, more as a friendly gesture, yet it’s unclear how they thought, given the dark humor in his catalog, his stuff would fit. Nonetheless, well after the show was cancelled, he finally found a distributor for Music From Van-Pires, and had something else he could sell at shows.

The album did give him a chance to indulge his love of spooky movie music and macabre lyrics. “Horror Rock” is the instrumental theme for the show, and like a lot of the rest of the album has the guitar double the bass line, a habit he never quite shook. Likewise, Luongo’s drumming style encourages his boss’s worst arena rock tendencies, and just about everything is just too loud. “Bogey Man” stands out because it utilizes an unused Keith Moon drum track, but we only know that from the liner notes. Leslie West shouts and shreds on “Don’t Be A Sucker”. The piano-based “Back On The Road” is another plaint of the touring musician, and more along the lines of what we know he could do, though what it’s doing in a kids’ TV show is unknown, just like most of the rest of the album. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the album is also too much the same, lacking dynamics or variety, and when he’s not singing, it’s hard to care, frankly.

The John Entwistle Band Music From Van-Pires (2000)—2½

Chrissie Hynde 5: Duets Special

Between her Dylan tribute album and the Valve Bone Woe experiment, Chrissie Hynde has shown her love of songs from all over the popular music map. On the lowkey Duets Special, she tackles a baker’s dozen tunes with all sort of “pals” (her term) selected from various genres.

Most of the album is subdued and acoustic, though she and Cat Power bring in the fuzz for Morrissey’s “First Of The Gang To Die”, and there’s subtle electricity for “Every Little Bit Hurts” with Carleen Anderson. She does two songs associated with Elvis Presley (one a virtual duet with the late Mark Lanegan) and the slowcore band Low is also touched on twice, first with Debbie Harry (who sounds like an older Marianne Faithfull here) on their “Try To Sleep”, and then with the band’s Alan Sparhawk on Cass McCombs’ “County Line”. Beyond those, the choices aren’t too obscure, though k.d. lang does lead a gender-bent but faithful (odd word, we know) take on “Me And Mrs. Jones”. Lucinda Williams snarls her way through a mostly unplugged “Sway” via the Rolling Stones, but the most eye-raising collaboration would be with Julian Lennon on his father’s “It’s Only Love”.

Duets Special is nice, and if you like her, you might like this. Or you might not. We found it a pleasant side trip.

Chrissie Hynde & Pals Duets Special (2025)—3

Steve Winwood 1: Steve Winwood

Not long after appearing in Stomu Yamashta’s Go project, Steve Winwood finally put out his first album under his own name. The songs on the album are very much of the time, soundwise; Jim Capaldi is still a songwriting collaborator, and Reebop appears here and there, but the tunes aren’t really any more exciting than the ones on the last Traffic album. He plays all the keyboards and most of the guitars, and Willie Weeks and Andy Newmark are the rhythm section for most of it, which lends to some of the blandness.

The tone is set by “Hold On”, which but for his distinctive voice sounds like something off a contemporary Boz Scaggs album. The groove picks up a bit for “Time Is Running Out”, a wordy slice of social commentary that crams a lot of words, images, and rhymes into a mix that obscures them, even over the chanted coda, so any intended statement is lost in a reason to dance, which one would think defeats the purpose. “Midland Maniac” stands out because it’s performed entirely by the auteur. Unfortunately, it’s also eight-and-a-half minutes long. It does have distinct, not always cohesive sections, and the changes keep the ear’s attention, but there’s no reason to drag it out.

While it sports a different rhythm section and Junior Marvin of the Wailers on guitar, “Vacant Chair” isn’t that different from the rest of the album, but it’s simply a better, more developed song with an arrangement that belies its somber subject matter, that being the death of a friend. (We had to look up the meaning of the repeated African phrase; it translates as “the dead are weeping for the dead”.) “Luck’s In” begins promisingly, but turns its back on Latin jazz for more standard funk, albeit with an odd meter in the verses. The romantic lyrics don’t gel with the backing, and whatever hope lies therein has disappeared on “Let Me Make Something Of Your Life”. With echoes of “No Time To Live” and “(Sometimes I Feel So) Uninspired”, it certainly sounds like the obvious choice for a closer.

Steve Winwood isn’t bad, but it doesn’t really stick. We always forget what a good guitarist he could be, but we’re guessing the songs are all on the long side because that’s all he had, and they needed to fill up the sides somehow. If anything, it’s very much a harbinger for the solo career he would soon nurture and develop—in other words, safe adult-contemporary pop without much bite. Which is fine if you like that sort of thing.

Steve Winwood Steve Winwood (1977)—2½

Guided By Voices 1: Forever Since Breakfast

Robert Pollard was just your ordinary small town all-star athlete who got a job teaching fourth-grade math and science after college, but never lost his dream to be in a band. With a rotating lineup of local Dayton, Ohio friends, he settled on the moniker Guided By Voices, and tried playing the bar scene, but soon restricted their activities to recording the piles of song ideas he’d been accumulating. Unlike much of their future output, Forever Since Breakfast was recorded in an actual studio, and GBV pressed up copies of their debut EP themselves.

The chiming guitars that open “Land Of Danger” can’t help but bring R.E.M. to mind, and with Pollard’s voice often buried in the reverb-heavy mix, the comparison is even more unavoidable. “Let’s Ride” is in the same vein, but the vocals are more pronounced, and some of the hallmarks of his chording style, as well as melodic lead guitar, are in place. It’s even more striking to hear the lo-fi sound quality of “Like I Do”, with its simple acoustic strum and faraway vocal over what sounds like a TV or radio broadcast. “Sometimes I Cry” powers back with a more standard rock sound, continued on “She Wants To Know”, but it’s still hard to figure out the lyrics. The power chords on “Fountain Of Youth” are more Townshend than Page, and there’s something of a prog touch on the passages between verses. “The Other Place” brings all the influences together—except maybe prog—and more buried lyrics for a strong finish.

Once the band became more widely known, Forever Since Breakfast was very hard to find, but got wider distribution after it was included in 2003’s Hardcore UFOs box set, and another twenty years went by before it was made available for streaming. At 23 minutes, it’s no more nor less substantial than their other EPs, but at least it’s more accessible these days. It remains a curio in their sprawling catalog, yet hardly an embarrassment.

Guided By Voices Forever Since Breakfast (1986)—3

Flying Burrito Bros 5: Close Up The Honky Tonks and Sleepless Nights

Like any smart label, A&M cashed in on both Gram Parsons’ death as well as the first breakup of the Flying Burrito Brothers with a double-LP compilation. Close Up The Honky Tonks devoted the first half to a side each of selections from Gilded Palace Of Sin and Burrito Deluxe, plus the single “The Train Song”. The second half was all previously unreleased material. Side three was all covers—mostly country, but also the Bee Gees’ “To Love Somebody”—from a session recorded with Gram shortly before Altamont, and side four came from the sessions for the third album: more covers, as well as the lost classic “Did You See”, Sneaky Pete’s workout “Beat The Heat”, and Gene Clark’s “Here Tonight”, the one song recorded the week he was in the band. (This album would be superseded by later Burritos compilations, and many of the rarities made it to 2000’s Hot Burritos! double-CD anthology, along with the first three albums in their entirety.)

Two years later, with Gram’s legend growing, they decided to spotlight their onetime artist with another set compiled from the same source as side three of the last album, giving him top billing and a moody cover shot on Sleepless Nights. These were more country weepers, with the exception of “Honky Tonk Women”, taken even cornier than the Stones’ own “Country Honk” variation. But nine tracks weren’t enough to fill up another album, so they wisely licensed three outtakes from Grievous Angel, all duets with Emmylou Harris. Besides sounding better from being actually produced instead of just recorded, they shine compared to the others, particularly on the title track.

Overall Sleepless Nights is more country than rock, and doesn’t really spotlight the band, who could certainly cook when given the opportunity. If its legacy means anything, the album meant a lot to Elvis Costello, who would mine this and other Gram Parsons performances for the selections on his own Almost Blue five years later.

The Flying Burrito Brothers Close Up The Honky Tonks (1974)—3
Gram Parsons/The Flying Burrito Bros. Sleepless Nights (1976)—3
The Flying Burrito Brothers Hot Burritos! The Flying Burrito Brothers Anthology 1969-1972 (2000)—3½

Queen 13: The Works

The lukewarm reaction to Hot Space was enough to suggest that Queen would do well to take a bit of a break after a mostly busy ten years. So Roger Taylor worked on his second solo album, and Brian May released a mini-album called Star Fleet Project, a jam session with the drummer from REO Speedwagon, bassist Phil Chen, and Eddie Van Halen, who proved that he simply could not play the blues. Freddie Mercury started his own solo album, but put it aside for the band to complete The Works.

While they seemed to embrace their established style and turn up the guitars, in a reversal from the last album, synthesizers still figured prominently, right from the opening track and lead single. Yet “Radio Ga Ga” is full of trademark Queen majesty, with soaring vocals and a memorable, catchy chorus. For a song about radio, the video was clever, interspersing scenes from the silent classic Metropolis and showing off John Deacon’s unfortunate mop. (It would also inspire a kid from Manhattan to take a stage name.) Regardless, Brian May’s riffing drives “Tear It Up” over a pounding beat right out of “We Will Rock You”, as if the previous song hadn’t happened. Even earlier triumphs are echoed on “It’s A Hard Life”, which earns the operatic tag even without the Pagliacci melody at the top (think “no more Rice Krispies”). It continues as something of a musical sequel to “Play The Game”, and that’s fine. Speaking of familiar sounds, “Man On The Prowl” is a crazy little thing called rockabilly, only with more Elvis swagger and prominent piano.

Unfortunately, “Machines (Or ‘Back To Humans’)” doesn’t have the balance of vintage and modern that made “Radio Ga Ga” work. It does improve anytime the vocodered vocals are out of the mix, but it’s just too robotic-sounding, even for irony. While it’s in the same tempo, “I Want To Break Free” is best known today for its video, which traumatized homophobic American radio programmers, maybe not so much for Freddie’s getup (with mustache intact) but for Roger’s rather fetching portrayal of a teenage girl. Still, the song, while simple, has rightfully become an anthem. More empowerment, this time against suicide, comes in “Keep Passing The Open Windows”, left over from the band’s brief, unrealized contract to score the film version of The Hotel New Hampshire. It’s that much closer to straight rock, and a good lead-in to the hook-heavy “Hammer To Fall”, one of which reminds us of “Now I’m Here” in a good way. “Muscular” is a good word for this one, and the call-and-response vocals are perfect. From there, “Is This The World We Created…?” is a particularly quiet finale, with just Freddie and Brian.

The Works was a big deal for the band, particularly in America, where they had left Elektra for Capitol, in line with their worldwide EMI contract. The album did okay, but not as well as it should have, especially Stateside.

The first expanded CD added the rockin’ contemporary B-side “I Go Crazy” and 12-inch mixes of “Radio Ga Ga” and “I Want To Break Free”. Only the B-side was included on the second expansion, alongside different mixes of “I Want To Break Free” and “Hammer To Fall”, two songs from Rock In Rio (the closest stop on the tour to the U.S. in this hemisphere), and the holiday single “Thank God It’s Christmas”, which barely dented the charts in the UK in the wake of Band Aid and Frankie Goes To Hollywood, and didn’t chart at all here.

Queen The Works (1984)—3
1991 Hollywood reissue: same as 1984, plus 3 extra tracks
2011 remaster: same as 1984, plus 6 extra tracks

Dwight Twilley 7: The Great Lost Twilley Album

Power pop started getting something of a resurgence in the ‘90s, and thanks to Shelter Records’ distribution deal with the DCC Compact Classics label, the first two Dwight Twilley Band were reissued on CD. Hopefully this was a financial boon for Dwight Twilley, who’d retired from the major label biz a few years earlier, as well as Phil Seymour, who was losing his battle with lymphoma, to which he would succumb in August 1993.

But a few months before that sad occasion, The Great Lost Twilley Album presented an overdue peek into the vaults. This packed CD compiled tracks from their earliest sessions through the drawn-out recording of their two albums together, as well as solo Twilley songs intended for the album that became Scuba Divers after taking so long. These are hardly leftovers; beginning with the original single version of “Somebody To Love”, it’s a non-chronological journey through 25 could’ve-been-hits, including the discarded single “Shark (In The Dark)” and its intended B-side “Please Say Please”, the original mix of “I’m On Fire” and its long-lost B-side “Did You See What Happened”, songs that would be rerecorded for Phil’s first solo album, and other alternate takes and mixes, with most tracks clocking under the 2:50 standard.

The presentation is designed more for listening than strict history, though session details for each track are included. So it’s not really a lost album per se, but a good chance to hear what else had been in the hopper. Most of all, it demonstrates once again how much these guys loved to make records, whether throwback tracks like “I Don’t Know My Name”, slow burners like “No Resistance”, or big productions like “Burnin’ Sand” and “Dancer”.

Thanks to another label switch, The Great Lost Twilley Album soon went out of print and was lost again. Luckily, it’s accessible on all the streaming services, and should be sought.

Dwight Twilley The Great Lost Twilley Album (1993)—3
Current CD availability: none; streaming only

Jerry Garcia 9: Garcia/Grisman

David Grisman was the originator of “Dawg” music, a mix of bluegrass and jazz that highly appealed to his buddy Jerry Garcia. Deadheads would have heard his mandolin on “Friend Of The Devil” and “Ripple”, and he was a key component of Jerry’s Old & In The Way project. The two of them loved sitting and picking together, with Jerry on guitar and sometimes banjo, and once Grisman installed a studio in his house, it was only natural that they’d record some of their sessions.

Released on Grisman’s own label, Jerry Garcia/David Grisman was the first of the albums that have commemorated their collaboration. With occasional fiddle from Joe Craven, who also adds percussion, the overall feel is very much in the tradition of Django Reinhardt and Stéphane Grappelli, which was the point. They loved playing pre-war tunes, like “Russian Lullaby” and “Rockin’ Chair”, and “Two Soldiers” was likely the source for Bob Dylan’s own cover. Their take on the blues classic “The Thrill Is Gone” is way cool, but the retread of “Friend Of The Devil” is unnecessary. Just as impressive are the instrumentals “Grateful Dawg” (which lent its title to a 2001 documentary about the pair, which spawned a soundtrack album including live performances among previously released material) and “Dawg’s Waltz”. “Arabia”, which incorporates a Cuban melody, is a bit much at 16 minutes, but it does include an upright bass solo.

Two years later, Not For Kids Only took a similar approach, leaning heavily on traditional songs and the occasional nursery rhyme. It really does live up to its title, with charming lyrics, helpful liner notes, and familiar tunes, like “There Ain’t No Bugs On Me”, and “A Horse Named Bill” sung over “Dixie”. The tune of “Teddy Bear’s Picnic” might be familiar to tapers as one of Nicky Hopkins’ go-to timekillers onstage; here it’s got a more ragtime feel. Jerry’s voice isn’t as strong as before, but his cover art is very sweet, as are the pair’s goofy exchanges on “Arkansas Traveller”. Nice as the album is, Grisman took it upon himself to add other musicians, including the Wrecking Crew’s Hal Blaine, on a variety of instruments “while Jerry was out touring”. That’s fine sometimes, except when the Jew’s harp and animal sounds get in the way. (In 2024, the Bare Bones: The Duo Recordings download presented three discs’ worth of alternate and pre-embellishment tracks from this and other Garcia/Grisman albums, making it easier to focus on just them.)

After Jerry died, Grisman added more volumes to their catalog, drawing from the same fertile period. Shady Grove focused again on traditional and folk songs; with the exception of “Stealin’” and “Jackaroo”, many of these hadn’t made it to any stage Garcia was on since before the Dead formed. A thick booklet provided recording details as well as the history of the songs, with lyrics, in an attempt to suggest that the album was a through line to the work of Harry Smith and Alan Lomax. Even when there are other players, the approach throughout is laidback and relaxed, with between-take chatter too, but Jerry’s voice is shot for most of it.

That’s not an issue for So What, which presents three takes of the title track and two of “Milestones” (both by Miles Davis) plus two of Milt Jackson’s “Bags’ Groove” (also recorded by Miles) and one of Grisman’s own, “16/16”. These were all tried at different sessions, so any similarities end beyond the basic framework of each. The rhythm section and occasional flute are present but not obtrusive. The two friends are the focus and play off each other so well, it’s clear they know these tunes inside out. And with no singing, one can concentrate on their phenomenal fretwork. It’s too bad there isn’t more of this mode.

A unique tangent to these albums is The Pizza Tapes, which got its moniker from the highly plausible tale of a dub being given to or stolen by a pizza delivery driver at Garcia’s house, after which it became a widely traded bootleg until Grisman made it official. This was a trio session, recorded over two days with legendary bluegrass guitarist Tony Rice sitting in with the pair. Given the pedigree of their guest, most of the material leans towards the songs already heard on the albums already described, but with some other familiar tunes, like “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door”, “Long Black Veil”, “Summertime”, “House Of The Rising Sun”, and supposedly Garcia’s only known performance of “Amazing Grace”. Throughout, Rice adds a wonderful dimension, and they’re clearly having a ball, and not just when goofing on the Addams Family theme and the Good Humor truck jingle in the sections indexed as “Appetizers”. (Ten years later Grisman released a three-CD expanded “Extra Large Edition”, which added more rehearsals and takes of the songs on the album, and further chatter.)

A few years went by what was stated as the final volume was released, and to date, it still is. Been All Around This World is the most wide-ranging of them all, running the gamut from standards like the title track (which the Dead had played for years, and was also a staple of the Jerry Garcia Acoustic Band) and tunes by Merle Travis, Jimmie Rodgers, and Mel Tillis to surprises like Dylan’s “Ballad Of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest”, Jimmy Cliff’s “Sittin’ Here In Limbo”, “Take Me” by George Jones, and wackiest of all, James Brown’s “I’ll Go Crazy”. “Handsome Cabin Boy Waltz” had already appeared on Shady Grove, but this instrumental version with flute is lovely.

While Grisman did manage to get several albums out of a finite well, the good news is that it’s all high quality. If you like one, you’ll probably like all the others.

Jerry Garcia/David Grisman Jerry Garcia/David Grisman (1991)—3½
Jerry Garcia/David Grisman Not For Kids Only (1993)—3
Jerry Garcia/David Grisman Shady Grove (1996)—3
Jerry Garcia & David Grisman So What (1998)—3½
Jerry Garcia/David Grisman/Tony Rice The Pizza Tapes (2000)—3½
2010 Extra Large Edition: same as 2000, plus 19 extra tracks
Jerry Garcia & David Grisman Grateful Dawg: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2001)—3
Jerry Garcia & David Grisman Been All Around This World (2004)—3

Robert Hunter 2: Tiger Rose

Only a year after his first solo album, Robert Hunter had amassed enough lyrics and music for another. Maybe guessing he needed the help, Jerry Garcia took a more active role on Tiger Rose, not just contributing guitar, vocals, and synth, but producing the album. Expatriate Mickey Hart provided the studio and added percussion (as well as drums under a pseudonym); other familiar names included David Grisman, Dave Torbert, Donna Godchaux, Pete Sears, and David Freiberg, the latter two most recently associated with Jefferson Starship. Yet the auteur still did all the singing, for better but mostly worse.

The title track has something of a traditional bayou feel, while “One Thing To Try” packs on the platitudes for a more contemporary sound. “Rose Of Sharon” is very sweet, and we’re surprised that this one hasn’t been covered more; indeed, none of the songs here made it into any Dead set. He yells his way through the shaggy Western saga in “Wild Bill”, and manages to keep up with all the disparate parts of “Dance A Hole”. One of those parts recalls the sea chanteys of his first album, as does “Cruel White Water” with its imagery and metaphors. “Over The Hills” is pleasant adult contemporary pop about the power of music, but “Last Flash Of Rock And Roll” fails at the same effort. “Yellow Moon” is just him strumming and singing with Jerry playing along, so it’s a nice break. Mickey provided the music for “Ariel”, bringing the set to a stately close. (This is another one that could have soared onstage.)

While some of the arrangements are a little dated, the production thin, and the vocalist subpar, Tiger Rose is still a worthy chapter in the Grateful Dead saga. The songs deserved better. Even Hunter himself knew his vocals weren’t his strong suit, so when the album was reissued by Rykodisc in 1989, he took the opportunity to redo them, as well as shuffle the tracklist. Decades later, the album was expanded for its 50th anniversary, using the original sequence and vocals, and adding a bonus disc of alternates.

Robert Hunter Tiger Rose (1975)—2½
2025 Deluxe Edition: same as 1975, plus 9 extra tracks

Robert Plant 16: Saving Grace

The 21st century has seen Robert Plant boldly walking his own path. Generally he’s found a collective of eager players, usually unknowns, and together they’ve worked up arrangements of arcane songs old and new. It’s more about interpretation and feeling than creation, and it’s kept him very happy.

Saving Grace is also the name of the outfit that recorded it; vocalist Suzi Dian gets prominent billing alongside the title, and rightfully so, given her pristine pipes. The sound is somewhere between Band Of Joy and his collaborations with Alison Krauss, and the key participants on those albums are acknowledged here. Some of the song choices are right in line with what he strove for on Dreamland. Where applicable, a song’s history in the Roud, Laws, or Child indexes are detailed.

To wit, “Chevrolet” was first recorded under another title by Memphis Minnie a century earlier, but we’re guessing Robert was most familiar with Donovan’s version as “Hey Gyp (Dig The Slowness)”. There’s more of a sinister undertone here, as there is on the ancient “As I Roved Out”. We have to smile at the line about “The green, green grass/Trampled under foot”, especially considering the album’s release was preceded by an EP of vintage live Zeppelin tracks from Physical Graffiti. Things lighten for the hippie vibe of “It’s A Beautiful Day Today” by Robert’s beloved Moby Grape, and proof that the band is a democracy comes when Matt Worley sings the lead on Blind Willie Johnson’s “Soul Of A Man”. The lovely “Ticket Taker” comes from Americana band The Low Anthem, with only its occasionally modern references giving away its modern composition.

Robert takes the lead on “I Never Will Marry”, despite the female point of view, with rich harmonies behind him. Suzy takes center stage on the next two: “Higher Rock”, a modern gospel stomper by Martha Scanlan (who’d appeared on T Bone Burnett’s soundtrack to Cold Mountain); and Sarah Siskind’s “Too Far From You”, a soulful country weeper that got its previous widest exposure on the Nashville TV show. The volume goes way up again for “Everybody’s Song”, Robert’s third career cover from Low’s The Great Destroyer. The traditional “Gospel Plough” provides a somber conclusion to the journey; in the distance after the fade we hear echoes of “Chevrolet”, bringing us full circle.

Saving Grace is another enjoyable chapter in the journey Robert Plant had been pursuing for sixty years. Hopefully he’ll get to keep traveling, and we’ll hear more from his worthy companions too.

Robert Plant Saving Grace With Suzy Dian (2025)—3½

Fairport Convention 5: Full House

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

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

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

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

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

Fairport Convention Full House (1970)—3

Nilsson 11: Pussy Cats

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

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

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

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

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

Andy Summers: XYZ

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

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

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

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

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

Andy Summers XYZ (1987)—2½

David Bowie 47: I Can’t Give Everything Away

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

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

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

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

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

Crowded House 9: Gravity Stairs

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

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

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

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

Crowded House Gravity Stairs (2024)—3

Joni Mitchell 30: Joni’s Jazz

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

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

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

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

Joni Mitchell Joni’s Jazz (2025)—3

Jimi Hendrix 14: Lifelines

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

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

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

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

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

Guns N’ Roses 4: The Spaghetti Incident

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

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

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

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

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

Duff McKagan: Believe In Me

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

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

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

Duff McKagan Believe In Me (1993)—2

Aerosmith 2: Get Your Wings

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

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

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

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

Aerosmith Get Your Wings (1974)—3½

Mike Campbell 1: Blue Stingrays

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

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

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

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

Blue Stingrays Surf-N-Burn (1997)—3

Jayhawks 9: Music From The North Country

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

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

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

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