John Baldry: It Ain’t Easy

The British blues scene of the early ‘60s was rife with important individuals who may not have become household names, like Alexis Korner, Chris Barber, and Graham Bond. And then there was Long John Baldry, whose early bands were launchpads for Rod Stewart and Elton John. (The latter took half of his stage name from the man, and would immortalize him as “sugar bear” in “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”.) So when both of those guys started to become really famous, they leapt at the chance to produce two albums for him, of which It Ain’t Easy was the better.

Though the session dates overlapped between producers, side one was devoted to the tracks Rod oversaw, beginning with a wonderful little medley. “Intro: Conditional Discharge” is a shaggy dog monologue in Baldry’s mostly proper English voice over Ian Armitt’s piano, leading into the driving “Don’t Try To Lay No Boogie-Woogie On The King Of Rock And Roll”. Micky Waller and Ron Wood, veterans of the Jeff Beck Group as well as Rod’s solo albums, provide the drums and guitar here and the rest of the side. “Black Girl” is country blues via Leadbelly, sung in duet with Maggie Bell, and better known as “In The Pines”, and to Nirvana fans as “Where Did You Sleep Last Night”. (Ron sits this one out, letting Sam Mitchell shine on the dobro.) The title track had already been covered by Three Dog Night, and Bowie would record his own nearly identical version shortly after. “Morning, Morning” is a rockier version of a song from the second Fugs album, coming close to Cat Stevens but with louder drums. It’s a quick segue to Muddy Waters’ “I’m Ready”, for a strong side-closer.

Just as Rod’s half reflected his own current brand and band, so did Elton’s side. Randy Newman’s “Let’s Burn Down The Cornfield” has some of the dark Americana already mined for Tumbleweed Connection. Another connection arrives in “Mr. Rubin”, a sweet piece of social commentary written by Lesley Duncan, whose “Love Song” was covered by Elton on that album, and who would go on to sing on his next album as well. Elton and Bernie Taupin offered up “Rock Me When He’s Gone”, one of the better songs he never released on an album or single of his own, but perfect for Baldry. In a wonderful crossover, “Flying” is the Faces song from their first album with Rod and Ron, here stretched a few more minutes for the vocalists to work the coda.

A year later, they flipped sides for Everything Stops For Tea, which has its moments but simply isn’t as consistent as its elder sibling. Both albums are available for streaming, though It Ain’t Easy includes the bluesy acoustic bonus tracks—as well as an electric “Love In Vain”—that were added to a 2005 reissue in the UK. It deserves to be heard and enjoyed.

John Baldry It Ain’t Easy (1971) 3½

Daniel Lanois 6: Here Is What Is

After a quarter-century of people possibly knowing his name and what he did for a living, Daniel Lanois decided to make himself the subject of a documentary. Here Is What Is is a non-linear, cinema-verité portrait of the artist at work, in performance, and in conversation. It’s interesting if you follow his career, but the overlying message he’s trying to convey is “I’m awesome and here’s why.”

Naturally, there was a soundtrack, which features some of the music seen created in the film, as well as dialogue with Brian Eno. Besides being a long album, there’s not a lot of unity, with the exception of his voice. And that’s the problem: he’s wonderful at creating and transforming atmospheres, but with the exception of Acadie, he’s generally fallen short as a singer-songwriter. The best tracks here have no vocals, like “Blue Bus” (a cousin of “Deep Blue Day” from his and the Enos’ Apollo album), but even the ones that do don’t really stand out except for their blandness, with a few exceptions. “Where Will I Be” was first heard on an Emmylou Harris album, and here benefits from Brian Blade’s drums, as most things do. “This May Be The Last Time” is seemingly made up on the spot by Blade’s preacher father. “Harry” was supposedly inspired by actor Harry Dean Stanton, and “I Like That” goes through some interesting changes.

A chunk of the film is devoted to him playing his pedal steel guitar, and focusing on the heights of inner ecstasy he experiences while doing so. That’s how we get over eight minutes of “Lovechild”, and a shorter improv called “Bladesteel”, whereas a recording of “Bells” lasts just one. “Sacred And Secular” is an alternate arrangement of “Transmitter” from Shine, and it’s nice, but we’ve heard it before. While he’s allowed to explore to his heart’s content, he’s generally better off when he can run rampant with somebody else’s initial ideas.

Daniel Lanois Here Is What Is (2007)—2½

Robyn Hitchcock 36: The Confuser

Another memoir composed on his phone coincided with a fresh batch of Robyn Hitchcock songs. The events of Stranded In The Future cover his path to becoming a songwriter and recording artist, and in many ways, his approach to the craft hasn’t really changed in the decades since. The Confuser is right in line with his brand, but something about the combination of words, melody, and performance make this one of his most satisfying albums of the century.

Right out of the gate “I Am This Thing” has a provocative opening line and the usual surprising rhymes as befit a statement of purpose. We’re not sure if the music he says he loves is supposed to “the birds” or “the Byrds”, but it’s damn catchy. The band infuses “My Dead Astronaut”—another familiar theme—with wacky space effects for another toe-tapper. Disembodied voices appear now and then, and it’s probably not best to search for meaning. The same could be said for “Yesterday’s Rain”, except that it’s the most developed of the opening three rockers, and the best track yet, but we’ve barely gotten started. Things quiet down for “Breathless”, with a sinewy arpeggiated guitar part that’s another one of his trademarks, and the band subtly comes in to fill in the borders, with Kimberley Rew presumably adding those sitar-like parts. But it’s just a setup for the haunting “Ghost In Sunlight”, wherein Robyn channels John Lennon playing electric piano. A Mellotron and what sounds like a cello are wonderful touches, and Gillian Welch provides harmonies and her own disembodied voices in both channels over the end before everything resolves.

A funky wah-wah boogie drives “Building From The Ruins”, which mostly sits on one chord but sports lots of surrealism hiding lines like “I miss democracy like my wisdom teeth.” “The Vanishing Kind” is a sweet and simple love song that features a nice wandering bass line and eventually layered vocals, while “How To Feel Alright” is more skewed, with warped imagery and Oedipal undertones over a brisk Bo Diddley beat and lots of Kimberly Rew guitar. At first we thought “Monday For Me” was resonant of Tom Petty’s “Wake Up Time”, but since that was also based on the structure of “Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands”, all is fair. This one still has a great chorus with good use of the days of the week. Rather than go out on something profound, “Wasted” flirts with honky tonk while exploring the different possibilities of the meaning of the title.

The band is consistent throughout The Confuser, and it sounds like they were all playing in the same room. That gives the album a unity that ranks with the best of the albums he did with the Egyptians way back when, and makes it all worth it.

Robyn Hitchcock The Confuser (2026)—4

Ringo Starr 13: Vertical Man

Just like Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr had more time on his hands in the wake of the Beatles Anthology promotion wave, so why not do any album? While Vertical Man was still something of an all-star project, he took a more active role in the songwriting, co-writing all but two tracks, playing drums throughout and even some other instruments. His right-hand for the proceedings was Mark Hudson, who’d graduated from a Beatlemaniac in a band with his brothers on Saturday morning TV to become something of a hit songwriter and producer. Besides playing and writing for the album, he added lots of backing vocals and harmonies that had listeners checking the credits to see who was singing. The results were probably his most consistent album in, well, decades.

“One” is power pop filtered through country, thanks to Jeff “Skunk” Baxter on pedal steel, which sounds enough like George Harrison among the 12-strings. Paul provides harmonies as well as bass on the enjoyable “What In The… World”, returning the favor from Ringo’s help with Flaming Pie. But then “Mindfield” puts Ringo’s voice through a speaker for a wacky effect and comes this close to being rap. Joe Walsh’s solo is suitably loud, and the explosion at the end is stupid. The wistful “King Of Broken Hearts” also resembles George Harrison to warrant lovely guitar parts weaved through, with subtle strings and even Mellotron to help it along. Two tracks later, the title track has a “When We Was Fab” vibe and Hudson quirks to be yet another Beatlesque knockoff that’s starting to push its luck. (Ozzy Osbourne sings on this one.) But in between there’s “Love Me Do”. While his reasons for remaking it are understandable—he was relegated to tambourine for the Beatles’ original single—it’s extraneous, notable only for Steven Tyler on harmonica, who likely found his way there via Hudson. Nobody needed another version of Dobie Gray’s “Drift Away” either, and Steven Tyler’s vocal was nixed by his label, so his part was replaced by Tom Petty. Alanis Morissette’s contribution stood, and if you listen close you can hear Rose of the Family Stone in there somewhere.

Alanis and Paul sing along with “I Was Walkin’”, and Steve Cropper adds a guitar solo, so the mid-‘70s vibe is mostly charming until the unnecessary “sleep” sequence. and “La De Da” is also mostly harmless, even after five minutes, with roughly three dozen friends singing along the chorus, and they wisely kept Paul up in the mix. “Without Understanding” is one of his more convincing rock songs, though the operatic opening is odd, and we suppose the reference to “good vibrations” was reason enough to get Brian Wilson to add a bunch of layered vocals. The modern rockabilly of “I’ll Be Fine Anywhere” gets a boost from another Harrison solo, and it’s a good lead-in to the slap-back percussion of “Puppet”. To keep it in the family, George Martin provided the string arrangement for “I Am Yours”, a very sweet tribute to Mrs. Starkey.

Those who bought the album at Best Buy got a bonus disc with three extra songs, all somewhat country. For some reason “Mr. Doubleitup” ends with a lounge instrumental of “With A Little Help From My Friends”), while “Sometimes” and “Good News” were a little more straightforward, with an accent on humor. At a time when Garth Brooks, Shania Twain, and their ilk were selling millions, it’s anyone’s guess whether these should have gotten wider distribution.

Ringo went into overdrive promoting the album, with the biggest appearance arguably on VH1 Storytellers, that channel’s variation on the “unplugged” special. Along with the ubiquitous Hudson, the band included Joe Walsh, Simon Kirke, Jack Blades of Night Ranger. He actually had a hand in writing most of the songs in the set, so his anecdotes about them are pertinent as well as enjoyable—even the ones you’ve heard before. He even played piano to start “Don’t Pass Me By”. A CD of the performance was released four months after Vertical Man, and did worse on the charts.

Ringo Starr Vertical Man (1998)—3
Ringo Starr VH1 Storytellers (1998)—3

Yes 14: 90125

The ‘80s saw a lot of surprising comebacks, and one of the biggest was that of Yes. Having imploded and scattered following the poor reception of their one album without Jon Anderson, Chris Squire and Alan White were determined to keep going somehow, and found a reason in young innovative guitarist Trevor Rabin. His more mainstream tendencies prompted Squire to call Tony Kaye, who’d been bounced off keyboards for not being as adventurous as Rick Wakeman. After recording for a while as Cinema, with Trevor doubling on keyboards and singing along with Squire, the label suggested they get Jon to sing and improve the lyrics. Once that was accomplished, the label suggested they call themselves Yes.

The resultant 90125—named for the catalog number, of course—stood out for its cold computer graphics and strikingly modern production by Trevor Horn. But for the occasional proggy element here and there, the songs were shorter and radio-friendly. And this being the era of MTV, a lot of money went into their videos, which got a new generation of kids into the band, especially since Asia was pretty much done.

“Owner Of A Lonely Heart” was that inescapable first single, video, and album opener. The metal riff and sampled orchestra hits didn’t sound like Yes, but as soon as Jon starts singing, it could only be Yes. “Hold On” is another winner despite its plodding drums; the opening fill and shifted meter in the second verse and during the solo are the most adventurous White gets on this album. As with most of the best parts of this album, the combination of vocalists is stellar. A sitar wasn’t often heard on a rock album in those days, but it helps “It Can Happen” stand for another catchy one. “Changes” has a repeated vibraphone theme that we only just recently realized recalls side three of Topographic Oceans, as well as some guitar parts that sound enough like Steve Howe to match the brand. Once they get the tricky part out of the way on the intro, it’s a standard Rabin riff, and he sings a lot of it.

“Cinema” opens the second side, a Grammy®-winning instrumental apparently siphoned off a much longer piece, and sounding most like a link to the Yes of old. “Leave It” was the second single, pushed by a series of video variations that played havoc with computer manipulation, and also made available in a mix that isolated the layered vocals. “Our Song” is kinda dippy, with only the odd meter changes and vocals keeping it from sounding like Night Ranger, but somehow it works. Not so “City Of Love”, which is too boomy for even this album, but this edition of the band wasn’t going to be known for its dynamics. “Hearts” threatens to be swallowed up by itself, particularly as it’s the longest song on the album. But even after the synth flute theme and Asian touches start to grate, there’s a wonderful chorus that again shows off the vocal ability of this combo.

The music was designed for arenas, so they toured, of course. Exactly two years after 90125 came out, a concert video was released on VHS as 9012Live. But instead of a companion double live album, fans had to settle for 9012Live: The Solos, a strangely titled mini-LP. After a half-decent “Hold On”, Tony kills a couple minutes with “Si”, not much more of a keyboard drone with a Bach fugue detour, and “Solly’s Beard” is a semi-classical high-speed acoustic piece from Trevor. Jon delivers the “Soon” portion of “The Gates Of Delirium” to much cheering. On the other side, “Changes” is fine, but Squire plays “Amazing Grace” for some reason, then adds the drummer to jam on an extended interpolation of “The Fish” and some other riffs (called “Whitefish”, get it?) for nearly nine minutes.

Most fans were relieved it was low-priced, and for the longest time was only available on CD from Japan—that is until the Friday Music label licensed it, and added the contemporary live B-sides “City Of Love” and “It Can Happen” for completeness. By that time, 90125 had finally gotten its own remastering along with the rest of the Yes catalog. Requisite bonus tracks included remixes of “Owner Of A Lonely Heart” and “Leave It”, as well as the “a cappella” mix of the latter, plus three songs left over from the initial Cinema sessions, two of which had already appeared on a box set. (The Twelve Inches On Tape cassette of dance remixes remains unavailable digitally.)

Yes 90125 (1983)—3
2004 remastered CD: same as 1983, plus 6 extra tracks
Yes 9012Live: The Solos (1985)—2
2011 Expanded CD: same as 1985, plus 2 extra tracks

Michael Penn 1: March

It’s tough enough when one of your siblings is famous, and worse when you’re trying to make a name for yourself. Michael Penn has never (to our knowledge) tried to ride his brother’s coattails, even when that brother was married to Madonna. Rather, he has consistently—if intermittently—specialized in highly literate singer-songwriting, usually about matters of romance or lack thereof. Both music and lyrics are influenced by Bob Dylan and the Beatles at their hippest. His first album set a template as well: mostly acoustic guitar accompanied by inventive and not robotic drum machines, and a few not-flashy electric solos, in collaboration with Patrick Warren, who assisted on programming and keyboards, most notably the Chamberlin, a Mellotron precursor.

“No Myth” is the opening track on March, and was also the lead single and video that exposed him to MTV and VH-1 viewers, and a good introduction. “Half Harvest” is more of the same, but “This & That” picks up the tempo and offers more interesting melodies in the verses and choruses. “Brave New World” is probably the most Dylanesque song, with its rapid-fire verses that probably went too fast for people to sing along, except for the crack chorus not too close to “Friday On My Mind”, nicely toned back after the third verse before shifting back into high gear. (That’s Jim Keltner on the actual drums, and it shows.) “Innocent One” returns to quiet folk, but for shaken percussion and either an accordion or harmonium.

“Disney’s A Snow Cone” is a Tom Waits-ian Chamberlin showcase that prefaces “Bedlam Boys”, a rich pop song that features contributions from not only Wendy & Lisa, but Prince backup singer Boni Boyer. Wendy’s brother David provides the oud on “Invisible”, which is mostly centered around a repeated but not repetitive guitar riff, supported by Keltner (again) and Larry Klein on bass; clearly the kid had taste as well as connections. A title like “Cupid’s Got A Brand New Gun” sets a high bar, particularly with such a slow beginning, but it manages to ride the dynamics. Speaking of which, Kenny Aronoff is behind the kit for the edgy “Big House”, handling the time changes well. “Battle Room” covers by-now-familiar ground, with lots of chord changes over a fairly simple backing. If things have seemed to get a little routine, he pulls out all the stops for “Evenfall”, which has Keltner and Aronoff each in their own speaker, as well as a honking horn section under the rhythm piano.

We referred to him as “literate”, mostly because we haven’t thought of a better word; he probably could. His lyrical approach throughout March—and indeed, his career—leaves plenty of question as to what the songs are actually about. But when the presentation is as pleasing as this, it’s almost moot. Almost. (For some reason, the album was repackaged in the new century with the addition of all but two tracks from his next album. It’s better than nothing, but streaming makes it moot.)

Michael Penn March (1989)—3
2001 reissue: same as 1989, plus 9 extra tracks

Rolling Stones 53: Foreign Tongues

The experience making Hackney Diamonds was apparently so positive that the old geezers just kept going. Some of Foreign Tongues had been started during (and before) the sessions for that album, so good on them for not stepping back, and riding the momentum. Granted, they did issue two archival live albums of theater shows bookending the turn of the century in the interim, but this was still the fastest turnaround between studio albums in decades.

“Rough And Twisted” was the not-so-secret sneak peek track, a fairly pedestrian stomp over mostly one chord, so it’s nice when they add a bridge. It sets the stage. “In The Stars” has a terrific intro, which is also the chorus, but the verses and solo section recycle the same riff-chords from “You Got Me Rocking” from 32 years before. It’s still a winner. Mick turns on his falsetto for “Jealous Lover”, a decent soul tune. Steve Winwood plays the Nicky Hopkins slash Billy Preston keyboards role here and throughout the album, but they’re generally buried in the mix under all the guitars. “Mr. Charm” is pretty odd, Mick spitting out a monologue that borders on rap, but the secret weapon is the supporting vocals by a woman credited only as Naärai. “Divine Intervention” would be another strong Stones rocker with their trademark interlocking guitars, except that one of those is played by Robert Smith of the Cure. And yes, it’s another great chorus, and you can just hear the horns over the coda. They pointedly use a pokey country arrangement for “Ringing Hollow”, which has just the three surviving Stones with the rhythm section of Steve Jordan and Darryl Jones, and only Winwood adding his touches, which you can actually hear, along with Keith’s harmony. Mick’s political lyrics don’t always land, but it’s still a good track.

You can hear Winwood again on “Never Wanna Lose You”, which has a funky Jones bass line, but also Robert Smith again and Bruno Mars credited on cowbell. “Hit Me On The Head” stands out because it’s another rescued Charlie Watts drum track—and his touch is obvious—and for its frankly hilarious chorus. They hadn’t done a soul cover on an album of Jagger/Richards originals in a long time, so it’s surprising that they tackle Amy Winehouse’s “You Know I’m No Good”; Mick wails on harmonica, but mostly it underscores her loss. “Some Of Us” is Keith’s token solo spot, and another one of his slow burners. Mick supports him well without overpowering the track, and that’s Benmont Tench on the organ, alongside Winwood’s piano. Paul McCartney returns to play bass on “Covered In You”, which can’t decide if it wants to be yearning or yelling, a romantic plaint or political rant. But Mick sure plays a lot of harmonica on this album. After an intricate riff, probably played by Ronnie, “Side Effects” recycles the chords from “Covered In You” a step down, but it’s got an okay bridge. The best parts of both songs could have been combined, but they didn’t, so it’s a step back. But they redeem themselves on “Back In Your Life”, which is loaded with passion, one of Ronnie’s best-ever solos, and a horn section that evoke the spirit and splendor of the Jimmy Miller era. As with last time, they end with an acoustic bluesy cover, this time of Chuck Berry’s “Beautiful Delilah”, which they’d done on the BBC but never on an album. Chad Smith of the Red Hot Chili Peppers is credited with bass drum.

The removal of a few extraneous tracks, plus some tightening, would make Foreign Tongues a solid, two-sided single LP instead of surpassing an hour. Yet what it comes down to is that it’s nice to get excited about a new Rolling Stones album, especially when they seem into it. Their enthusiasm here is truly infectious. (In a nice touch, the label is the same color yellow as the ‘70s Stones albums. But the cover art is hideous, even by their standards.)

Rolling Stones Foreign Tongues (2026)—3½

Byrne & Eno 2: Everything That Happens Will Happen Today

In 2006, David Byrne and Brian Eno’s My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts, which had long been hailed as “seminal”, was reissued with the requisite extra tracks. Then the two collaborated on an album for the first time in decades. The bigger surprise, given their previous work together, was that Everything That Happens Will Happen Today was a collection of songs as opposed to groundbreaking experimentalism. Considering the recent work both men had done on their own, this shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise, but still. The overall theme was the relief of domesticity, yet with subtle undercurrents, as depicted in the artwork.

Right away “Home” begins with trilling acoustic guitars, and a chorus that’s descended from recent Eno collaborator Paul Simon’s “Homeward Bound”, but with more pointed lyrics. “My Big Nurse” has a similarly loping rhythm and odd imagery, while “I Feel My Stuff” is more unique, lined with discordant piano and a more quirky vocal from Byrne, who sings all the leads throughout. “Everything That Happens” returns to the dreamy sound hinted at in the first songs, and we finally hear the gospel influence the fellas had been talking about while making the album. “Life Is Long” adds a brass section to support the affirming message, which seems to pervade through “The River” despite the imagery linked to the devastation of Hurricane Katrina.

More familiar beats we’d expect from this dynamic duo emerge on the danceable “Strange Overtones”, not just the first single but offered as a free download. “Wanted For Life” is mildly robotic but builds to a more, well, human sound, with hooks everywhere. The liner notes mention the inspiration for “One Fine Day”, that being the story of a refugee who manages to hold onto hope through all kinds of adversity, and that runs through the album. He turns on his soulful voice for the polyrhythmic “Poor Boy” with those fake horns Eno liked to use, and “The Lighthouse” is a mildly languid closer, still on the idea of finding a home, with some odd counterpoints to underscore the difficulty of achieving same.

While occasionally cold, just like the cover art, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today does eventually fulfill its aim, to unite these partners again, and make the world feel a little better about itself. Naturally they were drawn to the promotional possibilities of doing it all themselves, and Byrne even went on tour to promote it. Eno did not join him.

A deluxe edition of the album was released a few months later, in a circular tin topped with a model of the house and yard from the front cover and containing a book, an antacid pill, a six-sided die of short phrases, and a bonus enhanced CD with an film, screensaver, and four extra songs. “Never Thought” is a lush pop song that should have been on the main album, and we’d even say the same for “Walking On The River”, “The Eyes”, and “The Painting”. The lyrics seem to be thematically linked, but maybe they didn’t want a three-sided album.

David Byrne & Brian Eno Everything That Happens Will Happen Today (2008)—3

Prince 27: Xpectation and N.E.W.S.

Without a major label trying to tell him what to do, Prince continued to follow his muse—or whatever it was—to the neighborhood of jazz for a pair of releases. More to the point, both featured the phrase “new directions in music by Prince”, which everyone will tell you was similar to what Miles Davis had on the cover of Bitches Brew. Both were also entirely instrumental.

Xpectation came first, as a digital download, and would remain that way, with no physical release, ever. Ranging from quiet and dreamy (“Xhalation”, “Xcogitate”, “Xotic”) to upbeat and funky (the title track, “Xpand”, “Xpedition”), with a prominent electric piano on all tracks, this is dinner music jazz. He does play some guitar, the rhythm section of Rhonda Smith and John Blackwell is consistent, and some tracks feature Candy Dulfer and/or Vanessa Mae on violin. And yes, all the track titles follow that theme. We don’t know why the last jam ends with a baby crying, but maybe that’s none of our business.

N.E.W.S. followed a few months later, and was considered important enough that it was available on CD. Four improvised jams at exactly 14 minutes each—with the same rhythm section, plus one Renato Neto on keys and the stalwart Eric Leeds on misspelled “saxaphone”—were captured live on tape in one day, each named after a point on the compass; hence the album title. “North” does have some spacey elements resonant of certain Jan Garbarek albums, “East” sports Saharan instruments and effects until it doesn’t, “West” takes a while to find something of a groove then switches to a more typically Prince slow groove melody about halfway through, and “South” is pretty much straight funk.

These are even more meandering than tracks on Xpectation, which each are at least shorter, and more focused. The fact is, his music shouldn’t be background music.

Prince Xpectation (2003)—3
Prince N.E.W.S. (2003)—2

Van Morrison 54: Accentuate The Positive

For his third release of 2023, Van fans were able to exhale in relief yet again. Not only was Accentuate The Positive another collection of covers, with zero political stands or even general complaining, but it was only an hour long.

The focus is once again mostly on pre-’60 rock ‘n roll and blues, in a distinctly R&B approach. Therefore the old chestnut “You Are My Sunshine” is more of a dare than homage, and the Everlys’ “When Will I Be Loved” and “Problems” are more jump blues. “Hang Up My Rock ‘N Roll Shoes” might be familiar to Band fans from Rock Of Ages, but this “The Shape I’m In” is not theirs. “Flip, Flop And Fly”, “A Shot Of Rhythm And Blues”, “Shakin’ All Over”, and “Bye Bye Johnny” are all faithful to the originals, while “Red Sails In The Sunset” could have come from one of his late-‘80s albums. “Sea Of Heartbreak” has a harmony part with one of the backup singers, who’s limited to two notes. Jeff Beck adds some rockabilly guitar to “Lonesome Train”, sung in unison with Chris Farlowe, and Taj Mahal helps close the proceedings on “Lucille” and “Shake, Rattle And Roll”, though he seems to need prompting on the latter. In between the selections range from obscure to well-trod.

We’re glad he took his own advice on Accentuate The Positive. He seems to have picked these songs just because he liked them, hadn’t recorded any of them for an album before, and uses the same band for most of it. So it’s another decent Van Morrison album that won’t stand out much otherwise.

Van Morrison Accentuate The Positive (2023)—3

Warren Zevon 4: Bad Luck Streak In Dancing School

Most of the best songs he’d written were spread across his first two albums for the Asylum label, so when it came time for his next, Warran Zevon had to start fresh. As a result, Bad Luck Streak In Dancing School exhibits some water-treading, and some unfortunately dated production. Four Eagles appear throughout the album, and Jackson Browne is still around, but the drummer is Rick Marotta instead of the expected Russ Kunkel.

A brief snatch of a string quartet is a harbinger of sorts, then two shots from a gun start the title track proper. Somehow we don’t believe when he swears he’ll “change”, and that’s the point. A cover of Allen Toussaint’s “A Certain Girl”—probably most notable by the Yardbirds’ version—has fairly enthusiastic vocals with help from Jackson Browne, but it’s still a cover. “Jungle Work” might appeal to fans of a certain headless Thompson gunner, but it’s mostly one riff beaten into the ground. We’re due for a heartbreaker, and “Empty-Handed Heart” delivers. Regret seeps through every line, and when Linda Ronstadt appears in the bridge to offer the departed one’s response, it’s a killer. The first of two instrumental interludes provides a bridge to the Southern rock skewering of “Play It All Night Long”; not only does it begin with the incomparable “Grandpa pissed his pants again”, it’s also the only song we know of that mentions brucellosis. (If he’d lived long enough to hear what Kid Rock did to “Werewolves Of London”, there may have been a murder charge.)

One track that could have been a lot bigger is “Jeannie Needs A Shooter”, a title he picked up from Bruce Springsteen, and finished with his help. Where the Boss’s song seems to be a modern tale of obsession, protection, and revenge, this one takes a more traditional approach, with a mild Old West setting, right down to the strings, and a surprise ending. Considering Bruce’s growing stature, it’s odd that this one seems to have been mostly forgotten. The second interlude lasts almost as long as “Bill Lee”, an ode not to William S. Burroughs’ pen name but to the Boston Red Sox pitcher known as Spaceman for his outlandish behavior, and with whom Zevon shared mutual admiration. It’s a sparse piece with only piano and harmonica plus harmony, but still seems incomplete. One of his favorite words returns in “Gorilla, You’re A Desperado”, a surreal tale of switched identity that’s not entirely clear unless you really concentrate on it. The island-like lilt of the synth seems to link it to the Kinks’ “Apeman”, which it doesn’t need. “Bed Of Coals” was written with T-Bone Burnett before he became more ubiquitous. It’s more than a little bit morose, and he decided Ben Keith was more appropriate to deliver the pedal steel guitar. David Lindley returns to his familiar lap steel seat for “Wild Age”. Here the harmonies are all southern California, though he throws in some off-key yells over the fade.

Most of the successful Zevon ingredients are in place on Bad Luck Streak In Dancing School, when he hasn’t run out of ideas. It’s not as immediately impactful, and only got cursory attention, but the moments exist.

Warren Zevon Bad Luck Streak In Dancing School (1980)—3

Beach Boys 5: Shut Down Volume 2

If you’ve been paying attention to the narrative, you might remember that the Beach Boys’ label—the ever resourceful Capitol Records—had put out a compilation against their wishes called Shut Down. So when it was time for their next album, somebody had the bright idea to name it Shut Down Volume 2. It did continue their tropes of surfin’ and drivin’, and the boys looked all clean and collegiate on the cover (except for Mike Love, who was already balding, and Brian Wilson, who can’t quite pull off a Beatle fringe in compensation). While they were under a lot of pressure to keep new product on the shelves and on the radio, Brian delivered some of his greatest works yet, and some of the band’s worst.

The hit single “Fun, Fun, Fun” starts us off with a bang. From Carl Wilson’s guitar intro through the story running through the verses, this is a wonderful Chuck Berry pastiche, and Brian can’t help throwing in some key changes. As good as it is, it’s immediately bettered by the Phil Spector pastiche that follows. “Don’t Worry Baby” is ostensibly about a guy nervous over an upcoming drag race, but is really a masterwork of a love song. Amazingly, it was released as a B-side.

And from there, the album sinks. “In The Parkin’ Lot” begins and ends with a lush display of harmonies, but in between is merely a lame rewrite of “Fun, Fun, Fun”, complete with the same “blue now/dew now” rhymes. Even worse, “‘Cassius’ Love Vs. ‘Sonny’ Wilson” purports to be a peek into their wacky recording sessions, with scripted insults between the band’s Clay and Liston stand-ins over their vocal idiosyncrasies, taking up three-and-a-half precious minutes where obviously there wasn’t a song available. Perhaps it was here because Brian was self-conscious about “The Warmth Of The Sun”, an astoundingly beautiful reverie with some of his most unique chord changes. “This Car Of Mine” exists solely to give Dennis Wilson a spotlight vocal.

While the remake of “Why Do Fools Fall In Love” has a Spector-style production and some interesting vocal inversion, it’s further proof that Brian was low on material. (A half-century later, an interesting, complex, and unused instrumental track emerged on Keep An Eye On Summer, a copyright dump release.) It made sense for Carl Wilson, who was still in high school, to take the lead on the horny “Pom, Pom Play Girl”, as Mike was already getting creepy, and “Keep An Eye On Summer” is another slow one like “Surfer Girl” and the like, but again, in both cases the harmonies and changes are let down by the lyrics. “Shut Down, Part II” brings back surf-style instrumentals; outside of some sax honking at the top, it’s notable for Carl and Al Jardine trading licks in different tones over more complicated modulations. But “Louie Louie” is a dull cover of the previous summer’s frat house hit by the Kingsmen, except that they try to get the words right, and Brian can’t help throwing in some key changes. Once again Dennis closes a side, this time with the competent stick work in “Denny’s Drums”.

The good songs on Shut Down Volume 2 stand so tall, but the clunkers overshadow them in the original context. But again, nobody was crafting albums as works of art in those days. That would change, and soon. (This album was paired out of order with Surfer Girl in the 1990 two-fer campaign to avoid that album’s song repetition with Little Deuce Coupe; the slightly longer single version of “Fun, Fun, Fun” and the big production outtake “I Do” were the bonus tracks related to this one.)

The Beach Boys Shut Down Volume 2 (1964)—2½
1990 CD reissue: same as 1964, plus Surfer Girl album and 3 extra tracks

Frank Zappa 58: Läther

As we’ve learned from the various reissues and forensic work done by scholars, Frank Zappa loved to edit and re-edit. One prime legendary example was the saga of Läther. Pronounced “leather”, this was a four-record (eight vinyl sides) box set that Frank said he delivered as a complete unit to the label, only for them to reject it, whereupon he re-sequenced them into the albums released as Zappa In New York, Studio Tan, Sleep Dirt, and Orchestral Favorites. In actuality, he delivered those four albums in one batch, but the label didn’t want to shell out for all of them, whereupon he then converted them into the box format for another label, which was also quashed. In the end, the four albums were released individually over the space of a year or so, and well after the tracks were originally recorded.

The legend of Läther persisted for a couple of decades for a number of reasons. For one, at the height of the dispute, Frank appeared on an LA radio station and played the whole thing, resulting in various bootlegged copies that circulated. But fanatics soon discovered that while most of the songs did appear on those official albums, many of the mixes and edits were different, there was music that was exclusive to the box, and a Lumpy Gravy-style conversation, mostly between bass player Patrick O’Hearn and drummer Terry Bozzio, along with other percussive blasts from the past, appeared between tracks as “grout”, which was also heard throughout Sheik Yerbouti and other later albums.

So it was a nice surprise when the estate officially released the album as a three-CD through their arrangement with Rykodisc two decades after it was first mooted. And while it’s a lot for anyone to ingest, it’s still a better way to hear the music than as they appeared on those four albums, even though those had material that was not on Läther. Confused yet?

A snippet of the “leather conversation” heralds “Regyptian Strut” in its original mix, not with the replaced drums from the Sleep Dirt CD, for a great start. “Naval Aviation In Art?” provides a nice interlude before an earlier version of “A Little Green Rosetta”, which is just Frank singing the familiar melody over a tack piano, switching sharply to the guitar solo one day known as “Ship Ahoy”. That eventually becomes “Duck Duck Goose”, 45 seconds of another solo over “Whole Lotta Love” that’s engulfed by more conversation and other grout from the archives. “Down In De Dew” is a reconstituted snippet of a jam with Jim Gordon from the Apostrophe sessions, and “For The Young Sophisticate”, the first real “song” on the side, is an earlier version of similar vintage, and pretty good until Ricky Lancelotti’s vocals.

That would have been a pretty strong first side, but then it gets a little more, shall we say, challenging. “Trying To Grow A Chin” and “Broken Hearts Are For Assholes” are even more obnoxious versions than the ones on Sheik Yerbouti, followed by “The Illinois Enema Bandit”, complete with Don Pardo’s narration. What would become side two of Studio Tan is next, and aren’t any more exciting in this context; after “Lemme Take You To The Beach” the focus is more instrumental, through “Revised Music For Guitar & Low Budget Orchestra” and “RDNZL”.

What would have been side four is made up of Zappa In New York tracks, kinda. “Honey, Don’t You Want A Man Like Me?” is a different edit, including some jousting with a heckler; “The Black Page” is the musical portion after the drum solo; “Big Leg Emma” is pretty much the same; “Punky’s Whips” is the edit from the original LP before the label axed it. Continuing the balance of ridiculous to less so, “Flambé” is a shorter edit and different spelling without the later vocals, then some entertaining grout is the bridge to “The Purple Lagoon”, the same as side four of New York. “Pedro’s Dowry” and “Duke Of Orchestral Prunes” are from Orchestral Favorites, surrounding the title track (a gratefully better title for “I Promise Not To Come In Your Mouth”) and “Spider Of Destiny”, again without the later overdubs.

In the home stretch there’s a slightly edited “Filthy Habits”, its fusion grandiosity followed by a minute of grout that somehow leads to a slightly edited “Titties & Beer” that still retains its puerility. A few minutes of noodling are chopped off the beginning of “The Ocean Is The Ultimate Solution”, so than most of the track features the full band. The final side was given over to “The Adventures Of Greggery Peccary” with mild cosmetic differences; while it actually works better ending a journey than starting one, it’s still an acquired taste.

So all in all there are some strong sides’ worth of music here, predominantly when there are no vocals. While each of the original four releases made sense in their own buckets, Frank did a remarkable job of sequencing this material into a different perspective. And yes, we like the grout.

The original Rykodisc release included four bonus tracks at the end of disc three, containing 16 more minutes of music, bracketed by more grout and some of Frank’s announcements from that radio show. “Regyptian Strut (1993)” is an alternate mix with different drums, while “Time Is Money” is merely the original track from Sleep Dirt without the added vocals. More interesting was “Leather Goods”, a longer excerpt of the solo that spawned “Duck Duck Goose”, and “Revenge Of The Knick Knack People”, an excerpt from a collage featuring snorks and percussion by the original Mothers, edited and sped up. (Some of this would end up as grout elsewhere.) None of these were included on the 2012 reissue, which still spread what was left across three discs, and also used different artwork.

Frank Zappa Läther (1996)—3

Steve Winwood 3: Talking Back To The Night

It worked the last time, so here was Steve Winwood back after a short (for him) break with another one-man band album driven by synthesizers and drum machines with lyrics by Will Jennings, whose other big success that year was co-writing “Up Where We Belong”. Talking Back To The Night covered the same adult contemporary pop ground, even if it didn’t make the same splash.

He knew to start with the single, and “Valerie” is a good one. “Come and see me/I’m the same boy I used to be” is a fairly universal sentiment, though “Big Girls Walk Away” is a little too preachy, with a modern melodic twist on the chorus that just jars. “And I Go” is a nice slice of blue-eyed soul, complete with organ swells and less electronic keyboards. “While There’s A Candle Burning” would also seem to be about a romantic relationship, a closer gaze at the lyrics have us thinking it’s more a challenge to a once-fervent audience, a sentiment better delivered on “Still In The Game”. This wonderful tune was the other single, and for whatever reason, it seems to have been forgotten, having been left off every one of his compilations. Maybe because it features prominent harmonies from his then-wife?

Side two unfortunately doesn’t have the same breadth or even daring. “It Was Happiness” has good dynamics in recalling something of a romance that spanned continents. “Help Me Angel” would be pure pop if not for the canned clavinet, and drives the same hook into the ground for five minutes. The uptempo title track exudes a certain, welcome drama to match the impressionistic nightlife of the cover art, where we think we see rain-drenched streets somehow. “There’s A River” provides something of a spiritual conclusion, albeit with synthesizers instead of piano or organ.

There are nice ideas throughout Talking Back To The Night. The synths are very stuck in their time, but he did have something of a signature sound then. Outside a few moments, there’s nothing overtly awesome or terrible about the album, making it difficult to do a more in-depth analysis. It just is.

Steve Winwood Talking Back To The Night (1982)—3

Paul McCartney 40: The Boys Of Dungeon Lane

History has shown that the time Paul McCartney spends making an album is no indication of the subsequent quality. His pace has slowed since the busy ‘70s and first half of the ‘80s, so now a five-year gap isn’t that big a deal between releases. Besides, he’s gotta slot all those colored vinyl variations of albums that have already been reissued into the schedule.

For most of this century he’s eschewed the band that still tours with him since they recorded Driving Rain together, preferring to work with young hip producers who can help him do it all himself. For The Boys Of Dungeon Lane, instead of relying on a pool, he chose Andrew Watt, whom he supposedly recommended to the Rolling Stones, who managed to get two albums out of that collaboration. Much has been made about the theme of looking back, from the title to the packaging and many of the lyrics, but that’s not the only thing going on. (Consider also that “Now And Then” was finally completed while this album was being formulated.)

“As You Lie There” begins with a guitar part that’s coincidentally close to an Andy Summers and Robert Fripp collaboration. The spoken sections put the song in a creepy light that the more rockin’ parts dispel. Mostly it’s odd to think of one of the most famous men in the world still wondering if someone he had a crush on as a teen ever thinks about him. Apparently “Lost Horizon” was started, abandoned, and forgotten decades ago, and it’s fine, but would work better onstage if he sped it up a bit. The lead track, “Days We Left Behind”, got a lot of notice for its gentle acoustic sound and heart-tugging content. While it’s not new territory for him—three straight songs on New addressed the same ideas—it is a lovely tune, and tugs the right strings. The poppiest song is “Ripples In A Pond”, an unabashed love song like he hasn’t done in years, but then there’s “Mountain Top”, wherein he’s chatting up a fellow sun-kissed festival-goer. The music revs up apparently when their gummies kick in, giving an image of grandpa skeeving on girls one quarter his age. “Down South” is a rewrite of “Confidante”, musically but not quite lyrically; the earlier song was a guitar, and this one looks back at hitchhiking with George or John. It’s short and simple, whereas “We Two” returns to romantic ruminating. Then, right at the halfway point of the album, we’re treated to the sound of tape rewinding.

“Come Inside” isn’t the most convincing heavy-sounding track, especially as it conjures memories of Egypt Station, but amid the fuzzy guitars are terrifically pounded and tickled acoustic and electric pianos. “Never Know” would seem to be cut from similar cloth as “We Two”, but the little touches in the chorus and especially the recorder solo that heralds the drums for the coda are ultimately rewarding. Ringo Starr appears on a Paul album for the first time in almost thirty years for “Home To Us”, a charming rocker—again, about the old days—built around his drums and an actual duet. Sure, it’s cheesy, but they sound terrific together and we just can’t help grinning, even with the addition of Chrissie Hynde and Sharleen Spiteri on extra vocals. “Life Can Be Hard” has him teetering at the top of his register, which somehow works in tandem with the old-fashioned clarinet arrangement. A truly hidden gem is “First Star Of The Night”, another gentle acoustic pick-and-strum inspired by rain on a vacation, with the slightest embellishments. The retro sound, along with a Spanish-sounding trumpet and swing horns, returns to dominate “Salesman Saint”, another look back at his childhood with clever time juxtapositions adding to the dreamlike memory feel. It’s a pointed juxtaposition with the big finale. “Momma Gets By” is a melancholy portrait of another struggling family, but as observed by a child. Unless that’s supposed to be young Mary’s observations from mid-1970, it’s striking imagery, heartrendingly orchestrated, and wholly unexpected.

And there it ends—no joke or afterthought like “Her Majesty”, “Crossroads Theme”, “Cosmically Conscious”, “Nod Your Head”, “I’ve Only Got Two Hands”, etc. Fourteen songs in 47 minutes may seem like a lot, but the album never feels overlong or padded. What makes The Boys Of Dungeon Lane succeed is that, as we’ve tried to point out, every track has a hook that elevates it, making even the more ordinary ones worth hearing. The production is excellent; Watt plays a few instruments, and another guy does the trumpet, but the album does not have the one-man band vibe, even when we know Paul’s doing just about everything else. Basically, the old man’s still got it.

Paul McCartney The Boys Of Dungeon Lane (2026)—3½

Jimi Hendrix 17: Woodstock

He didn’t play until the final morning, after most of the crowd had already left, but thanks to the film, Jimi Hendrix’s appearance at the Woodstock Festival has become legendary. He closed both the movie and the soundtrack album (both released before his death) and had all of side one to himself on Woodstock Two, released the following March.

Jimi was in transition; Billy Cox had replaced Noel Redding on bass, and for this performance he brought along two percussionists plus one Larry Lee—another old Army buddy who’d just returned from Vietnam—on second guitar. Due to comments he made throughout the set, this configuration has been called Gypsy Sun & Rainbows. While the extra musicians may have helped him fill out his sound to his liking in the studio, they couldn’t onstage, and future performances would go back to his tried and true trio format.

Because 1994 was the 25th anniversary of Woodstock, complete with another two festivals taking place that summer, the revitalized estate authorized an official release of Jimi’s performance that day. However, Alan Douglas was still in charge, so he rejigged the setlist and cut the program down to just over an hour so it could fit on a single CD. Everything that was on the original Woodstock albums was included, and in longer versions, but still not complete. It did subtitle “Jam Back At The House” with “Beginnings”, as it was known on other releases, and one of the solos after “Purple Haze” was now correctly titled “Villanova Junction”.

It was more than people had outside of bootlegs, and it was good enough for five years, when the new regime instigated another look, this time under the supervision of Eddie Kramer, who’d recorded the festival in the first place. Live At Woodstock contained most of the performance, now spread across two CDs and in the original sequence, but still without a few drum solos, Larry Lee’s solo spots, as well as some of his guitar solos. Even so, it seems more complete, particularly with all the stage patter left in.

After being erroneously announced as the Jimi Hendrix Experience, he starts by greeting the audience and introducing the musicians, almost apologizing for their lack of preparation. The first music we hear them play is “Message To Love”, making its public debut. “Hear My Train A Comin’” is identified by its alternate title and explored for ten minutes. “Spanish Castle Magic” had already become a jam, but at least the crowd would have heard it before; likewise, “Red House”. Despite having a precise riff, “Lover Man” is pretty straight but threatens to go off the rails, and “Foxy Lady” goes through the verses before letting him blaze out a solo. “Jam Back At The House” was another new funky one that required everyone to pay attention, and they seem to, though Mitch has trouble after his drum solo. “Izabella” was another new one, something of an antiwar love song, followed by tight “Fire”.

This is the point where the set became legendary, and not just because it appeared in the film. “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” is on fire all the way, though he takes it down to introduce the band again. There’s a brief quote of what would soon be known as “Stepping Stone”, and while he repeatedly thanks the crowd, he doesn’t leave the stage, but keeps playing. What should be the last chord of the song turns into “The Star-Spangled Banner”, with only Mitch trying to keep up with him. Then he kicks into “Purple Haze”, wherein he clearly sings “kiss this guy.” Once that ends he solos alone for about four minutes, with only the occasional sound of a tambourine from somebody onstage, eventually coming to “Villanova Junction”. After that they try to leave, but the crowd wants more. Jimi toys with playing another new song, but can’t remember the words, so it’s back to “Hey Joe”.

Live At Woodstock is more historic than it is excellent, and the producers likely did us a favor by smoothing out or omitting the rougher edges. It’s interesting to have some things in proper context, but sometimes it’s easier to print the legend.

Jimi Hendrix Woodstock (1994)—3
Jimi Hendrix Live At Woodstock (1999)—3

Elton John 31: Two Rooms

A multi-disc overview was one way for Elton John to assess his career, but he wasn’t done doing that. Along with the box set trend, thematic tribute albums began to be a thing in the ‘90s. Just as with the Grateful Dead the same year, Two Rooms was an all-star compilation “celebrating the songs of Elton John and Bernie Taupin”. Most of the songs were fairly faithful to the original, while still allowing the artists to put their own stamp.

Eric Clapton injects more gospel and a great solo into “Border Song”, then Kate Bush makes “Rocket Man” reggae, albeit with Uillian pipes. Sting’s “Come Down In Time” is a great choice, handled very gently, while the Who plow through “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting” with a quote from “Take Me To The Pilot”, just as Elton put “I Can’t Explain” in his version of “Pinball Wizard”. While the photo of the Beach Boys shows Brian Wilson, it’s only Carl, Al Jardine, and Bruce Johnston singing “Crocodile Rock” over a prerecorded track, while Mike Love chimes in with “re-mem-mem, remember-member”. Fittingly, Wilson Phillips (then still popular) follow with “Daniel”. Joe Cocker does a wonderful job belting out “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word”, unfortunately given a boomy arrangement with in-your-face saxophone. Jon Bon Jovi does a band karaoke version of “Levon”; hearing the American pronunciation of “garage”, jars here.

Tina Turner tackles “The Bitch Is Back” for the second time in her career, and nails it, but while “Philadelphia Freedom” is fitting for Hall & Oates, their reading is pretty limp. Twenty years after recording “Country Comfort”, Rod Stewart goes the safe route with a tepid “Your Song”. Oleta Adams, then riding on a hit single, makes “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me” that much more soulful, then Bruce Hornsby takes “Madman Across The Water” to a more gothic place. Sinead O’Connor’s gentle, heartfelt interpretation of “Sacrifice” is possibly the highlight of the album, while Phil Collins’ straight take on “Burn Down The Mission” is mostly notable for Steve Winwood on organ (according to the credits, anyway). George Michael offers a lengthy live “Tonight” with winds and strings, since “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me” had already been claimed; his own duet with Elton on the latter from the same show would be released shortly as a single.

Two Rooms was promoted by a feature-length documentary on VHS, followed by an abridged TV special hosted by Sylvester Stallone of all people. The album wasn’t likely to make new fans for these artists, and like most tribute packages, the novelty wears off quickly. Seventeen years later, the concept would be repeated with a pair of albums with the intent of “reimagining the songs of Elton John & Bernie Taupin”: Revamp sported covers by modern artists ranging from Miley Cyrus and Lady Gaga to the Killers and Queens of the Stone Age, while Restoration was devoted to country artists.

Two Rooms: Celebrating The Songs Of Elton John & Bernie Taupin (1991)—3

Elton John 30: To Be Continued

Having finally achieved sobriety, Elton John was determined to start the ‘90s strong. And since it was becoming the trend for artists of his stature, he got the box set treatment. To Be Continued… not only summed up his career to date on four CDs or cassettes, but precluded him from having to record another album to keep his annual chart appearances going. (The somewhat garish booklet was loaded with photos, an essay, and a joint interview with Elton and Bernie Taupin. Track info was very detailed as to who played what, even providing exact recording dates when available.)

At the time, the box was essential for offering up several songs—mostly B-sides—that would eventually be farmed out as bonus tracks when the individual albums were reissued, and are discussed there. That said, it still tells a full story, starting with “Come Back Baby”, a mildly melodramatic number sung by an 18-year-old Reg Dwight with the Bluesology combo. From there it’s a pretty comprehensive survey of the next 25 years, at roughly eight years per disc, except for the second, which covers 1972 to 1974. Oddly, Tumbleweed Connection is given short shrift; we would have picked “Amoreena” or “Where To Now St. Peter” over “All The Girls Love Alice”. Among the standouts in the rare stuff is a demo of “Your Song” that shows the song practically fully formed. “Step Into Christmas” gains a spot in context, and the run of “One Day At A Time” through “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” to the live “I Saw Her Standing There” gives John Lennon a spotlight. (“Empty Garden” also appears later in the set, as does an hideous “cover” of “Give Peace A Chance” with silly voices sung over part of the track for “I Don’t Wanna Go On With You Like That”.) An excellent “I Feel Like A Bullet (In The Gun Of Robert Ford)” comes from a series of concerts with only Ray Cooper accompanying him on percussion. The brief “Cartier” is basically an advertising jingle, while “Donner Pour Donner” is a bilingual collaboration with French singer France Gall. “Carla Etude” is an outtake from Live In Australia, and some of the later songs appear in single or dance mixes.

To further entice collectors, To Be Continued… ends with four newly recorded songs, produced by Don Was. “I Swear I Heard the Night Talking” and “Easier To Walk Away” are fairly generic, but “Made For Me” is just plain embarrassing, musically and lyrically (“If I couldn’t see you naked/Oh, I might as well be blind”?) “You Gotta Love Someone” is a better use of Bernie’s list-writing technique, but only slightly. If these songs were supposed to be the springboard for a full album, it’s best that he pulled the plug. To be fair, it’s not the only box set in history that runs out of steam on the last disc.

Elton John To Be Continued… (1990)—3½

Pink Floyd 22: 8-Tracks

The 8-track tape music format dominated the industry for a few decades. These bulky plastic cartridges split an album’s program into four stereo segments, but they didn’t always match the vinyl sequence, or even the sides. In order to cut down on excess silence and conserve actual tape, songs were often shuffled, many times in baffling combinations. From time to time a rare mix would sneak through, but for the most part, the 8-track’s appeal was more from convenience and mobility than pristine fidelity: cars had players, and portable players were available in a variety of designs. By comparison, the cassette’s smaller size was that much more fragile, and the thin tape could threaten to unwind and stretch if you weren’t careful. Even those took liberties with album sequencing, but that’s not important right now. Eventually people decided it was a lot easier to dub albums and songs from the radio onto a cassette, which was just one of the factors that helped hasten 8-track’s demise.

Like most kings of the high school parking lot, Pink Floyd sold a lot of albums on 8-track, and a new compilation of favorites that likely got a lot of play in that format appeared for no real reason, on the heels of the 50th anniversary of Wish You Were Here and its various expansions. Despite the hyphen, 8-Tracks offered exactly that: eight tracks from the ‘70s sequenced and mixed by Steven Wilson, and something of a mutant cousin of A Collection Of Great Dance Songs.

Like that album, it begins with “One Of These Days”, only this time the wind fades into “Wots… Uh The Deal”—a wonderful song, to be sure, but not the most expected choice for a “hits” album. That’s soon taken over by the coins and cash register of “Money”, this time the original track and not the rerecorded version. “Another Brick In The Wall, Part 2” is also the extended single mix, with the extra bars at the top and with the schoolmaster’s ranting over the end. “Wish You Were Here” begins from the tuned radio, and its wind at the end turns into the ticking clocks of “Time”. The “Breathe” reprise conveniently ends on the same chord that opens “Comfortably Numb”, and that fades into the sheep sounds to preface “Pigs On The Wing”.

And that right there would seem to be the big deal of this album, from the title to the concept. This is the version of the song that appeared on the 8-track version of Animals—both verses, separated by solo played by auxiliary touring guitarist Snowy White. Why this did not appear in 2018 on that album’s sonic and visual overhaul made no sense, but here it is now. Beyond that, everybody who cares already knows these songs, and might even be tired of them.

Pink Floyd 8-Tracks (2026)—3

Paul Westerberg 5: Come Feel Me Tremble and Dead Man Shake

A year after his double-whammy bipolar Stereo and Mono albums, Paul Westerberg stuck with the formula with two more albums that equally indulged his desires to rock and wallow. Once again he played everything himself, and he’d gotten rather adept at recording in his basement.

Come Feel Me Tremble may have gotten more attention, seeing as that was also the title of a documentary—mostly gathered from camcorder footage—about his tour promoting the last album, usually with a cigar in his mouth. While some of the songs appear here, this is not a soundtrack album. It’s still full of catchy hooks, but the vocals are usually buried, so it’s not easy to hear if anything should be considered profound.

To wit, “Dirty Diesel” rumbles along with a riff one chords except when it switches to a second, and eventually fades away. Titles like “Soldier Of Misfortune” and “What A Day (For A Night)” portend Westerbergian wordplay, but we can’t understand most of the verses. The vaudevilley verses of “Knockin’ Em Back” sit strangely next to the punkier verses, “Wild & Lethal” has some unexpected chord changes and wailing harmonica for five minutes, and “Never Felt Like This Before” is a tender piano sketch that stops after a minute. Two versions of “Crackle & Drag” back to back not only finally provide marked contrast between loud and soft, but it’s only the more acoustic version that cause us to dig into the lyrics, which address Sylvia Plath’s suicide. By the same token, the subject of “Pine Box” would appear to be his father, but that’s only a guess. “Meet Me Down The Alley” tries for the yearning of “Here Comes A Regular”, and he takes a stab at Jackson Browne’s perennial “These Days”; Gregg Allman needn’t have worried.

That’s a mild tie-in to the content of the album credited to Grandpaboy that came out the same day on the Fat Possum label, the subsidiary of Epitaph devoted to aging bluesmen. Dead Man Shake isn’t really blues per se, but is actually rather convincing. Covers are scattered throughout; “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” is older than he is, while Jimmy Reed’s “Take Out Some Insurance” first came out the year he was born. “Souvenirs” is from John Prine’s second album, but nobody expected Anthony Newley’s “What Kind Of Fool Am I?” Of his own tunes, “Vampires & Failures”, “Get A Move On”, and even the title track might has well have been on the “other” album, “Mpls” and “Cleaning House” sound more like the stuff Slim Dunlap would do, while “No Matter What You Say” is more smokey and descends into parody.

While he’s certainly capable as a one-man band, and such economy may have helped his bottom line, it didn’t do much for enriching his catalog. If you’re gonna put out two albums at once, make them different if they’re not stellar top to bottom. Better yet, form a band.

Paul Westerberg Come Feel Me Tremble (2003)—2½
Grandpaboy Dead Man Shake (2003)—2½

Guided By Voices 3: Sandbox

Clearly determined to keep making records even if nobody bought them, Guided By Voices released their second album in the space of a calendar year. Another dozen songs totaling less than a half-hour, Sandbox was recorded with the established rhythm section of Mitch Mitchell (not that one) and Kevin Fennell, with Robert Pollard’s brother Jim and their coproducer adding some guitar.

“Lips Of Steel” and “A Visit To The Creep Doctor” might as well be two halves of the same song, with solid power chords and partially buried vocals. “Everyday” still has some R.E.M. jangle, but with mildly out-of-tune guitars; while the message is muddled, he knew it needed a hook for a chorus. While all one performance with no editing, “Barricade” is alternated between fast and slow sections, one of which culminates in a repeated quote from the Beatles’ “Little Child”. “Get To Know The Ropes” is a martial dirge with self-harmonies and a repeat of the “ladies and gentlemen” introduction already heard on “Lips Of Steel”. There’s even a fake fade.

He learned to kick off sides with a rocker, and “Can’t Stop” is that, with dynamic shifts; it’s almost a love song. He gets mildly political on “The Drinking Jim Crow”, but you have to listen really closely to hear him call America “a nasty little nation”. “Trap Soul Door” is very interesting, as it’s so brief, but has his hallmark of a simple soloing guitar over droning bass lines. “Common Rebels” begins with alternating guitars in each speaker, but improves when it turns into a Who pastiche. “Long Distance Man” is a solo acoustic one with layered harmonies; straightforward but over quick, whereas “I Certainly Hope Not” straddles a jerky verse with a more power-pop chorus. While “Adverse Wind” has some melodic moments, it’s still a little jumbled and clattery.

Being recorded in an eight-track garage studio, Sandbox doesn’t have the lo-fi experimentation that would one day define the band, but Pollard is still experimenting with the form. He also hasn’t quite developed his voice—yet. It’s harmless, with no real clunkers, if not very memorable.

Guided By Voices Sandbox (1987)—3

Neil Young 75: As Time Explodes

Clearly excited by his latest band of older and newer friends, Neil Young took the Chrome Hearts on a “world tour” in the months before he turned 80, playing dates in Europe and the U.S. A live album followed, appearing first as a Record Store Day vinyl release, then given more widespread distribution on CD and via streaming about six weeks later.

What sets As Time Explodes apart from his other timely tour souvenir live albums is of course the song selection. “Daddy Went Walkin’” and “Looking Forward” from the late ‘90s and “Harvest Moon” have gentle accompaniment, while the louder “Ohio” is appropriately ragged. The more obscure “Name Of Love” is driven by his pump organ, and given a better treatment than its original, just as “Be The Rain” is about half the length of other versions. Current events inspired many of the song choices on the tour, as well as the new rant “Big Crime”. “Long Walk Home” is resurrected after almost forty years, with revised lyrics and widely missed notes, though “Vampire Blues” has been a regular since he first took up with Promise Of The Real. From there it’s some familiar warhorses: “Cortez The Killer” runs almost fifteen minutes, colored nicely by Spooner Oldham’s organ, but is most notable for the appearance of its long-missing final verses. “After The Gold Rush” now has Mother Nature on the run on in the 21st century. “Like A Hurricane” goes for almost eleven minutes, with the band doing their best Crazy Horse while also giving Neil room to stretch the dynamics. Finally, he tells the story of writing “Silver Eagle”, which gets a little more twang from guitarist Micah Nelson.

Considering the thirty-odd other songs from the thirty-odd shows on the tour, why he picked these particular selections and performances is known only to him. As Time Explodes is a perfectly serviceable live album in a catalog full of many others that are better just because they are.

Neil Young & The Chrome Hearts As Time Explodes (2026)—3

Queen 14: A Kind Of Magic

The Live Aid concerts in July 1985 were a big deal, and of all the artists given twenty minutes to strut their stuff onstage, Queen pretty much stole both shows. The history leading up to this occasion has been muddled by the major dramatic license taken by the Bohemian Rhapsody biopic, but the fact remains that—overseas anyway—the band was still quite popular. They chose to capitalize on this momentum with a new album that partially tied into another major motion picture.

So given that they’d re-established themselves as rock royalty, and Freddie Mercury had gotten his pop preferences out of the way with his solo album (which, despite what the movie said, did not threaten to break up the band), you’d think that A Kind Of Magic would kick butt, right?

Well, it didn’t. The cartoon artwork throughout looked like they were hoping to ride the coattails of the Stones’ “Harlem Shuffle” video, and there was just the barest tie-in to the Highlander film with a single line on the back cover. The whole thing was just plain garish, even for them, and considering the year in which it appeared.

“One Vision” would have been better served had they started with those classic Brian May chords then the mysterious-sounding intro that kills a full minute. It’s not a bad tune, even with the “fried chicken” joke at the end. The title track continues the “one” theme in the lyrics, and is pretty harmless, especially compared to the rest of the album, starting with “One Year Of Love”. This is execrable adult contemporary, right in line with other hits of the time, complete with the same saxophone player from “Careless Whisper” and strings played first on synthesizer and then on real instruments. “Pain Is So Close To Pleasure” is dominated by Freddie’s unflattering falsetto throughout; he might have been going for Motown, but it sounds more like the worst parts of Hot Space. Brian remembered he played guitar in time for “Friends Will Be Friends”, another attempt at a grand singalong, forgetting that they’d only ended up combining and diluting “You’re My Best Friend” and “Somebody To Love”. (John Deacon had a hand in the last three, so maybe he was having a tough year.)

Side two is most closely connected with the movie, which would only be obvious to those who’d seen it. “Who Wants To Live Forever” has another orchestra for extra pomp, and the song only works once the drums come in. After several seconds of Brian trying to out-hammer Eddie Van Halen, “Gimme The Prize” is helpfully titled “Kurgan’s Theme” after the villain, and his voice can be heard quoting Def Leppard’s “Rock Of Ages” in the many samples heard among the heavy metal tropes. Roger Taylor is responsible for “Don’t Lose Your Head”; apparently he was content to program a drum machine, and somebody roped in Joan Armatrading to intone the title a few times. “Princes Of The Universe” ends a mostly loud album with a lot of bombast, but nothing really original.

As a soundtrack, A Kind Of Magic is no better than Flash Gordon, and as a Queen album, it’s a disappointment. Yet somehow the album has since made it to rank on several classic albums lists. The original CD had extras in the form of extended mixes of “A Kind Of Magic” and “Friends Will Be Friends”, as well as a solo piano instrumental of “Who Wants To Live Forever”. The 1991 CD added only that last track, plus an extended mix of “One Vision”. Two decades later, the third version added “Forever” and the extended “Friends”, the movie mix of “A Kind Of Magic”, single mixes of “Pain Is Close To Pleasure” and “One Vision”, plus a demo of the latter and a live version from their 1986 concerts at Wembley.

Coming a year after Live Aid, those shows were a big deal in the UK, where they were celebrated at year’s end with Live Magic, most of which came from the tour finale at Knebworth. Unfortunately, several songs were edited—badly, in the case of “Bohemian Rhapsody”, since the Galileo section came from the record anyway—so all could fit on a single LP. It didn’t come out on the US for another ten years, by which time Live At Wembley ’86 had already become the standard celebration of their triumphant return to the scene of Live Aid. It’s a full two hours, complete with their “ay-yo” jam, Brian’s nine-minute solo off “Brighton Rock”, an oldies medley, and starting the encore with “Big Spender”. Ten years later it was repackaged and retitled, with bonus tracks from other shows, including the Hungarian folk song Freddie performed in Budapest. (Some of that show was already excerpted on Live Magic, and the whole thing was commemorated on VHS and laserdisc in the UK and Japan in 1987. The full performance was released on CD 25 years later as Hungarian Rhapsody.)

Queen A Kind Of Magic (1986)—2
1986 CD: same as 1986, plus 3 extra tracks
1991 Hollywood reissue: same as 1986, plus 2 extra tracks
2011 remaster: same as 1986, plus 7 extra tracks
Queen Live Magic (1986)—3
Queen Live At Wembley ’86 (1992)—3½
2003 Live At Wembley Stadium: same as 1992, plus 4 extra tracks

Bill Wyman 3: Bill Wyman

Twenty years with the Stones meant a lot of sitting around for Bill Wyman, and although they were never going to use any of his songs for their semiannual albums, he kept recording anyway. Mostly this meant playing around with synthesizers, with a rotating group of friends who tended to work at Jimmy Page’s studio in Berkshire. Some of this experimentation was used on the soundtrack of the little-seen film Green Ice. Then somehow, the summer before Tattoo You was released and the subsequent tour happened, he had a mild hit with “(Si Si) Je Suis Un Rock Star”, a novelty song in fractured French with a truly cheesy synth part to match his weedy voice.

While it got somewhat regular MTV play when it was current, it wasn’t enough of a hit for the accompanying album to be released in America. It’s tough to say whether it would have made a dent. His voice does seem better matched to the robotic arrangements of “A New Fashion” and “Nuclear Reactions”. “Jump Up” attempts to create a new dance craze and fails, and we’re not sure how we’re supposed to relate to the weary jetsetter in “Rio De Janiero”. “Come Back Suzanne” was his other mild hit single of the period, with an even goofier video to match; it sounds like a real rhythm section too. “Ride On Baby” isn’t the Stones leftover from the Aftermath sessions, but his son helped write it. It has a lot of guitar from Brian Setzer, while Chris Rea provides the lead on the dreamy “Visions”. Knowing what we know now about his, shall we say, proclivities, “Seventeen” and “Girls” are a little cringey, though he might be trying to ape Mick on the latter.

While Bill Wyman isn’t as dull as his other two solo albums, it’s only of interest to Stones completists. They would naturally go for any of the reissues, which include four single edits as well as demos of the two hits.

Bill Wyman Bill Wyman (1982)—2½
2006 Bill Wyman Solo Collection Edition: same as 1982, plus 4 extra tracks

Grateful Dead 23: Two From The Vault

The curators of the Grateful Dead’s archives were always mindful, knowing that their audience was somewhat particular. Rather than just throw any show out on the market, even if it had already been shared and dubbed on countless tapes, whatever they released needed to be important or unique. So it was in the case of the second installment of the From The Vault series.

At the time, this 1968 show was the earliest one they’d yet officially released, on top of being one of the few professional recordings from that year. Amazingly, some of the band wasn’t thrilled with the tapes back in the day, and even used them as a reason to justify firing Pigpen and Bob Weir for not keeping up with the others musically. Luckily for this supposedly less-than-dynamic duo, they would be reinstated soon enough, and ‘90s technology enabled us all to hear what the dissenters couldn’t then.

Pigpen was still a focal point onstage, so they open with a 16-minute “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl”. But then the suites start to flow: “Dark Star” into “St. Stephen” and “The Eleven”, slowing down for “Death Don’t Have No Mercy”. None of these were on either of their two albums, and could have filled up an album on their own. After a new seconds to regroup (and change CDs for the listener) they head right into “That’s It For The Other One” and “New Potato Caboose”, both twice their album length, followed by 17 minutes of “Turn On Your Love Light”. The crowd’s begging for more, so they get “Morning Dew”, which builds until the power is cut.

Two From The Vault certainly makes a nice companion to Live/Dead, unless you didn’t like that album to begin with. It portended well for the future of the series, except that further excavations would emerge under another banner, leaving this one all but abandoned. (Three songs—totaling 34 minutes—from the night before appeared on the first expansion of Anthem Of The Sun, and eventually comprised the bonus disc in Rhino’s expansion of this album fifteen years after its original release.)

Grateful Dead Two From The Vault (1992)—3½
2007 reissue: same as 1992, plus 3 extra tracks