Mike Campbell 2: Wreckless Abandon

Having spent his entire adult life working as Tom Petty’s right hand man on stage and in the studio, Mike Campbell waited a good three years after his boss died before finally starting his solo career. (A stint touring with Fleetwood Mac alongside Neil Finn kept him busy as well.) He’d already formed the Dirty Knobs as a side project, so they were ready to back him up on Wreckless Abandon.

As was clear from the exactly two songs wherein he sang lead with the Heartbreakers and Mudcrutch, he was never exactly a singer. But years of writing for and with Tom certainly helped shape his voice into a vehicle for lyrics, and we’re here for the guitars and hooks anyway. The title track has lots of them, fitting nicely between classic Heartbreakers and the Stones’ “Happy”, framed by atmospheric effects. On “Pistol Packin’ Mama” his drawl gets easily lost against guest Chris Stapleton’s, and if it’s a little derivative, “Sugar” makes up for it in bite and attitude. “Southern Boy” stomps a little too long, but the pounding “I Still Love You” shows what was missing on the last couple Heartbreaker albums. Stapleton comes back to harmonize on “Irish Girl”, which rhymes “mutiny” with “scrutiny” and otherwise sounds like 21st-century Mudcrutch.

He tells it like it is on the Stapleton co-write “F-ck That Guy” (censorship ours), but isn’t the most arresting storyteller on the John Lee Hooker pastiche “Don’t Knock The Boogie”, which improves once the solos start. “Don’t Wait” stays in the swamp even longer, so the pretty and quiet “Anna Lee” is certainly a respite. Benmont Tench shows up to lend a little welcome piano to “Aw Honey”, and “Loaded Gun” brings back the classic Campbell sound from all those records. The last minute of the album is dedicated to an acoustic slide rendition of “Don’t Knock The Boogie”.

The band is clearly comfortable backing him, since they’d been together twenty years already, and Wreckless Abandon has a fresh live sound thanks to George Drakoulias. Most of it clearly came to life on stage, but that doesn’t mean some editing mightn’t have helped. We’re just glad he’s still writing and playing. (He blows a mean harmonica too. And he got Klaus Voormann to design the cover.)

The Dirty Knobs Wreckless Abandon (2020)—3

Todd Rundgren 34: Disco Jets

For a guy who always seemed to be recording, one might think Todd Rundgren would have a vault of unreleased music rivalling that of Prince or Bob Dylan. Yet for the longest time, he only had one “lost album” to speak of. A goofy celebration of disco and sci-fi, Disco Jets was recorded by the first quartet incarnation of Utopia shortly after Faithful, but was seemingly shelved to be replaced soon enough by Ra, which was only unintentionally silly.

The album is predominantly instrumental; while the title track does sport lyrics in the form of a repeated chant, it’s really more of a general fanfare. “Cosmic Convoy” picks up on the CB radio craze (and novelty song) of the time, complete with “breaker, breaker” conversation, only six years ahead of Neil Young’s own futuristic mashup. “Time Warp” rearranges a jazzy Rick Derringer instrumental from a few years earlier and adds sound effects that sound like Space Invaders two years before the game even came out. “V.H.F.” is clearly considered something of a TV theme song, and just for good measure, their arrangement of the familiar Star Trek theme song follows. (This would’ve been a top ten single had it been released then.)

Speaking of fads, the funky “Pet Rock” is a cross between K.C. and the Sunshine Band and “Car Wash”. “Space War” proves that titles could be interchangeable on this album, but this one has more prominent lead guitar than the keyboards that dominate elsewhere. It’s odd that he didn’t seem to find any more lyrics for “Rising Sun”, even with what would soon end up on their next album. “Black Hole” brings back the funk, punctuated by laughter and shouting deep in the mix. Finally, the overlapped melodies of “Yankee Doodle”, “The Star-Spangled Banner”, and other patriotic tunes in “Spirit Of ‘76” remind you what year they recorded all this.

Despite the constant thump and seemingly random bloops and bleeps, Disco Jets is still in line with their earlier prog excursion. It’s also very melodic, with pieces short enough to digest. One must have a sense of humor to enjoy this album, and just accept it as it is. It is not for everyone.

Todd Rundgren & Utopia Disco Jets (2012)—3

Steely Dan 11: Everything Must Go

In the modern era, three years was a relatively short gap between albums, and especially so for a band like Steely Dan. Sure enough, Everything Must Go served up another familiar-sounding assortment of laid-back adult contemporary music that was too smart for anyone’s good. Some have called it a concept album, which is fair; there’s not a story per se, but a theme does run through it.

After opening with a flourish right off of Aja, the PA announcer in “The Last Mall” tells shoppers to pay up before Armageddon hits, but the message is lost under the standard shuffle. “Things I Miss The Most” is more standard fare, a lonely guy summing his life up after a breakup, but once he starts cataloging everything, it’s clear she’s better off without him. “Blues Beach” is obscure again, though there’s a suggestion this narrator is heading to rehab. Much more clever is “Godwhacker”, wherein a team of hired guns prepare to take out the Almighty. “Slang Of Ages” is the fourth song in a row with the same meter, but Walter Becker sings it, and that helps it stand out, but it’s yet another song sung by a guy trying to score with a young lady half or even a third his age. (Maybe that’s why Donald Fagen didn’t provide the vocal, as he’s already established a reputation.)

The rhythm finally changes for “Green Book”, but the subject is only too rote, this time exploring newer, high-tech ways to exploit women. “Pixeleen” is somewhat related, only this time Fagen is drooling over the teenage superhero vixen swashbuckling across the video screen. The cumulative effect thus far makes his bellyaching about the high-maintenance character in “Lunch With Gina” less than sympathetic. The title track echoes the opener, except that it’s more literal about a company going out of business. True to form, the narrator hopes for a tryst with an office mate, and further hopes a coworker will film it.

Musically, the album is well played and impeccably produced. As with its elder brother, Everything Must Go will please anyone willing to overlook its shortcomings. However, we can’t, and it doesn’t.

Steely Dan Everything Must Go (2003)—2

Prince 25: The Rainbow Children

Once in the new century, Prince did a few things. First, he started using his name again. Then he decided to license his new albums rather than signing a longterm label deal he’d one day regret. He also got divorced, and had embarked on a relationship with the woman who’d become his next wife. But perhaps most significantly, he became a full-fledged Jehovah’s Witness.

This last detail wasn’t quite as earth-shattering as, say, Bob Dylan’s religious conversion. After all, Prince had grappled with religion and sex and whatever twain shall meet throughout his previous albums, but this shift would send him on a decidedly more puritan (for lack of a better term until we find one) path. And because he had to be him, his journey would manifest in his new music.

The Rainbow Children is a parable of sorts about good conquering evil, full of imagery, metaphors, questionable viewpoints, and most unfortunately, narration by a processed voice pitched even lower than that of the guy in “Bob George”. But beyond all that, the most striking aspect of the album is the music, which as a whole is unlike anything he’d previously put out under his own name or even symbol. He played everything as usual, with the exception of the drums, horns, and some backing vocals, but the music borders on jazz fusion.

The title track sets up the story with some narration—helpfully transcribed in the included lyrics—but mostly exists for a lengthy guitar exploration, which is fine with us, and modulations of the main vocal theme, which exhorts said Rainbow Children to rise, before switching to a much more subdued theme very reminiscent of late-‘60s Miles Davis. That makes a smooth transition to the just-as-smooth “Muse 2 The Pharaoh”, which begins as something of a love song, but slides over to expound on religious theories. (From here the tracks are shorter, for a while anyway.) “Digital Garden” is almost ambient jazz until he starts singing, and the narration moves the story further. That entails people going door to door a la Jehovah’s Witnesses, so “The Work Pt. 1” extols this via a James Brown workout. “Everywhere” is begun very sweetly by one of his female backup singers before escalating into a joyful number with lots of drums, then the instrumental “The Sensual Hereafter” would appear to be something of a seduction scene, which continues into the apt “Mellow”.

More narration insists that we understand “1+1+1=3” over another funky groove, with a Camille-style voice modulation in the mix. “Deconstruction” is an orchestrated segue leading into “Wedding Feast”, an incredibly silly fanfare right out of The Wizard Of Oz. (See, he still has a sense of humor.) With “She Loves Me 4 Me” we finally get a track that can easily insist outside of the narrative, even if some of the words might rankle the former Mrs. Nelson. From here the tracks get longer again, beginning with “Family Name”, which sports a different kind of computerized narration and other vocals dealing with the history of African Americans and other marginalized minorities, with a Martin Luther King sample for good measure. “The Everlasting Now” is more preaching, but it’s over yet another infectious groove, and not at all tossed-off. And since he likes to have grand finales regardless of the subject matter, “Last December” fills that purpose with a slowish groove and a gospel-tinged chorus, and a very Hendrixian break. Just for good measure, the album fades to silence before returning with an a capella reprise of the final notes.

It’s redundant to say The Rainbow Children is a very personal album for Prince, since they all are. Unfortunately, unless you’ve fully subscribed to his bag, the message can be a bit much. But musically, it’s terrific, especially if you like hearing him play guitar. If only there was a strictly instrumental mix of the album somewhere.

Prince The Rainbow Children (2001)—3

Bill Wyman 2: Stone Alone

With enough time on his hands, Bill Wyman once again gathered some of his talented pals—this time including Van Morrison, Joe Walsh, and two of the Pointer Sisters—and recorded his second solo album. The title Stone Alone may have been intended to add a little marketing push, but the heavy glam makeup on his front portrait didn’t pique the prospective listener’s excitement.

A faithful take on Gary U.S. Bonds’ “Quarter To Three” would be better if Bruce Springsteen wasn’t already playing a phenomenal version onstage every night. He presents a convincing thesis on “Gimme Just One Chance”, and the other singers drown him out on the discofied “Soul Satisfying”, but he really shouldn’t sing. And while the bass work is pretty tasty on “Apache Woman”, the sentiment would not pass muster in the woke era. His John Cale voice comes back for “Every Sixty Seconds”, which has some clever lyrics while Van blows harp, and “Get It On” continues his one-track mind.

Danny Kortchmar is responsible for the she-done-me-wrong “Feet”, which might have been a hit if Ringo Starr had recorded it, but the excessive cooing on “Peanut Butter Time” is not sexy, to the point where “Wine And Wimmen” is just indulgent. By now his attitude is crystal clear, but just in case, a heavy cover of “If You Wanna Be Happy” has the organ, flute, and guitar fighting for a place in the mix. At this point, the very country “What’s The Point”, with fiddle and steel courtesy of John McFee, is a welcome change of dynamic, but he puts on a Louis Armstrong voice for “No More Foolin’”, with a backing like early ‘70s Kinks albums.

The overall effect of Stone Alone was he was competing with John Entwistle, another underappreciated bass player who indulged a ‘50s fixation with a goofy sense of humor. As other people have pointed out, the album wasn’t any better or worse than what Ringo was recording around the same time, but it doesn’t have Ringo’s charm, or even vocal ability. Luckily for the average Stones fan, he took the hint and didn’t make a third right away. (Those who must, however, would want the expanded CD for the bonus tracks, two of which are single mixes, “High Flying Bird” and “Back To School Again” are instrumental, and “Can’t Put Your Picture Down” and “Love Is Such A Wonderful Thing” are inoffensive.)

Bill Wyman Stone Alone (1976)—2
2006 Bill Wyman Solo Collection Edition: same as 1976, plus 6 extra tracks

Frank Zappa 56: Strictly Commercial

How could anyone anthologize Frank Zappa’s career with a single disc? Well, since Rykodisc had the rights and the estate’s permission, they tried in 1995. Strictly Commercial purported to be “The Best Of Frank Zappa”, and as it opens with “Peaches In Regalia”, the single version of “Don’t Eat The Yellow Snow” (which incorporated part of “Nanook Rubs It”, and “Dancin’ Fool”, it’s a good start. But then from there it becomes something of a grab bag, democratically hitting as many albums as possible, staying mostly upbeat, but with some head-scratching choices, like “Sexual Harassment In The Workplace”, finally hitting “Montana”, “Valley Girl”, and “Muffin Man” towards the end.

But Ryko also knew that wouldn’t suffice, and followed this up less than two years later not once but twice. Have I Offended Someone? was a collection of his more sexually and racially controversial lyrics, curated by Frank himself, and in many cases remixed. The other draws for people who already had this (in addition to two songs already on Strictly Commercial) were a live version of “Dumb All Over” and a longer “Dinah-Moe-Humm”. Ralph Steadman cover art and liner notes by Ed Sanders of the Fugs doubled down on the attitude of defiance.

Then, to further prove his artistic worth to naysayers, Strictly Genteel offered “a ‘classical’ introduction” to his more, shall we say, serious work. Along with the expected selections from albums like Orchestral Favorites, The Yellow Shark, and even Francesco Zappa, tracks from Uncle Meat, Hot Rats, and other rock albums were able to provide something of a picture of the man’s compositional style.

But even then Ryko wasn’t done. Hoping to provide value to someone, Cheap Thrills was a budget-priced collection of tracks people already had, mostly live versions, bookended by dialogue from 200 Motels with “The Mudshark Interview” from Playground Psychotics as a centerpiece. A year later Son Of Cheep Thrills was even more random, though the choices were arguably better. (The personal mixtape concept kept going in 2002, with two volumes of Zappa Picks, one chosen by Jon Fishman of Phish, and the other by Larry LaLonde of Primus.)

By this time the estate had already began to undertake their own archival reissues, the waters of which had already been tested in 1996 with Frank Zappa Plays The Music Of Frank Zappa. Packaged in a leatherette case with a replica mustache and soul patch on the front, this “memorial tribute” compiled by Dweezil celebrated Frank’s three favorites of his guitar compositions by presenting the earliest (at the time) known live recordings of each, paired with their standard album versions. Thus “Black Napkins” has a snotty introduction, and “Zoot Allures” is the 16-minute performance that begat “Ship Ahoy”, but “Watermelon In Easter Hay” doesn’t have the grandeur of its best-known version, which unfortunately still has the Central Scrutinizer whispering over the top. (Yet Dweezil found a way to add a “good night” from some concert at the end.) “Merely A Blues In A” breaks up the program in the middle with a lengthy jam from a Paris concert.

In 2012 the estate licensed themselves a new deal to reissue the Zappa catalog worldwide, and since it was an election year, that was a reason to unveil Understanding America, another Frank-curated compilation from back in the day that never got past initial production. Loosely based on the concept of skewering American culture, this two-disc set begins heavy on the first three Mothers Of Invention albums, touches on the ‘70s, then goes whole hog into the ‘80s, the centerpiece of the second disc being a 25-minute expansion of “Porn Wars”.

Four years later, ZAPPAtite served up what were said to be his “tastiest tracks” on a single disc. Although separated into “appetizers”, “entrées” and “dessert”, it merely reshuffled half of Strictly Commercial and 52-pickupped the rest. Even decades later, it only underscores the fact that summing up Frank with anything but his individually albums is not only futile, but just silly.

Frank Zappa Strictly Commercial: The Best Of Frank Zappa (1995)—3
Frank Zappa Frank Zappa Plays The Music Of Frank Zappa: A Memorial Tribute (1996)—3½
Frank Zappa Have I Offended Someone? (1997)—2½
Frank Zappa Strictly Genteel: A “Classical” Introduction To Frank Zappa (1997)—3½
Frank Zappa Cheap Thrills (1998)—2½
Frank Zappa Son Of Cheep Thrills (1999)—3
Frank Zappa Understanding America (2012)—2½
Frank Zappa ZAPPAtite (Frank Zappa’s Tastiest Tracks) (2016)—3

Warren Zevon 2: Warren Zevon

After several years working with the Everly Brothers, together and apart, as their musical director, Warren Zevon found his way to L.A. where he hooked up with the usual cast of characters who played on albums on the Asylum label. Jackson Browne produced his eponymous debut for the label, and this is really where Warren Zevon as we came to know him began.

It’s all there from the first track—his piano and distinctive croon, Waddy Wachtel peeling off leads, David Lindley on whatever string instrument he pleased, and lyrics worthy of a hard-boiled crime novel. Following a stately piano intro, “Frank And Jesse James” seems too clichéd a choice of subject matter in 1976, but it sets a bar low enough for him to vault over, and soon. “Mama Couldn’t Be Persuaded” very much has the signature Asylum sound, and a catchy chorus. “Backs Turned Looking Down The Path” sticks out, mostly because it’s so obviously based around an acoustic guitar rather than a piano, and the wistful lyrics have us thinking this was an older song that was sitting around. It seems very much a detour leading into “Hasten Down The Wind”, a heartbreaking portrayal of the end of a relationship without being cloying. (It’s also just one of four songs here that would be covered by Linda Ronstadt, and this one even gave her an album title.) Any sentimentality is smacked away by the raucous “Poor Poor Pitiful Me”, which is loaded with terrific couplets, not all of which Linda would use. Glenn Frey and Don Henley provide trademark harmonies on “The French Inhaler”, which they probably wish they wrote. With the swelling strings, it could pass for an Eagles track, though they would never write a lyric like “Your face looked like something death brought with him in his suitcase.”

Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks harmonize on “Mohammed’s Radio”, a truly bizarre lyric with wonderful imagery that encapsulates the city of Los Angeles, or so we’re told. With frequent collaborator Jorge Calderon interjecting just below the level of discernability, “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead” is the first of many statements of purpose, though we probably shouldn’t take it seriously. By the same token, if the junk den scene so vividly described in “Carmelita” is from personal experience, it’s a wonder he made it this far. The dirty delivery in “Join Me In L.A.” is hardly enticing, and the gang female backing vocals are just plain too much. While it does accurately portray what’s wrong with the city, it’s one we like to skip. Much better is the closer, on all fronts. A vivid portrait of alcoholic waste, “Desperadoes Under The Eaves” is the first use of a word that will recur in several song titles, and boasts a wonderful segment where the main musical arrives out of a description of a humming air conditioner. Clearly, this guy was smart.

Again, there’s nothing on Warren Zevon that compels us to visit Southern California, but we sure like listening to him describe the world around him. And he really was just getting started. (The album was expanded in the 21st century with a bonus disc including demos, alternate takes, and one song from a live radio broadcast, providing a little more insight into the album’s creation and discarded arrangements.)

Warren Zevon Warren Zevon (1976)—3
2008 Collector’s Edition: same as 1976, plus 15 extra tracks