Kinks 34: Did Ya and Phobia

Having somehow made it through the ‘80s, could the Kinks extend their longevity to a fourth decade? Their new manager hoped so. First, they’d need a new label, and Columbia stepped up. At a time when the CD was king, the band took the new opportunity to release an EP, with the single “Did Ya” as the lead track.

This charming little ditty was very reminiscent of “Sunny Afternoon” and “Dead End Street”, right down to the wheezing harmonium and backing vocals. This time Ray Davies’ concerns about the decline of British society were wrapped in wistful disappointment at the broken promises of the swingin’ sixties. As long as they were looking back, “Gotta Move”—originally the B-side to “All Day And All Of The Night”—is an outtake from The Road, and “Days” got a new acoustic busk with a not-too-raucous backing. But the irritating “New World” would be something of an extension of “Aggravation” from UK Jive, and a rant about Europe fifty years after the start of World War II. Much better is Dave Davies’ “Look Through Any Doorway”, instrumentally, lyrically, and musically, and deserves wider exposure than the end of an EP.

Eighteen months later, none of these were included on the band’s next album in the U.S., though “Did Ya” was added in some territories. Instead, Phobia was an entity all its own, and at 71 minutes their longest album since Preservation Act 2.

A forty-second “Opening” of dueling guitars gives way to the slow but big riffs of “Wall Of Fire”, an angry piece of social commentary. Following a brief pastoral opening, “Drift Away” is more of the same—neither a rewrite of “Loony Balloon” from UK Jive, nor is it remake of the Dobie Gray hit. While the sentiments in “Still Searching” seem genuine, and the performance is wonderful, the song is treacly and trite, two words we don’t normally associate with Ray Davies. (Plus, following a song that insists “sometimes I wish I could just drift away” with one that opens with “I’m just a drifter who has lost his way” is just sloppy sequencing.)

The title track brings back the crunch, and is one of his better litanies of neurosis, though we can’t imagine stadiums singing along. “Only A Dream” is this close to being one of his better tunes of late; all he’d have to do is jettison the spoken-word sections, where he rivals Pete Townshend in the creepy old man race. Titlewise, “Don’t” would be better extended to “Don’t Look Down”, as that’s the main hook, and an excellent metaphor we don’t think he’s touched on before. Along the same lanes, while “Babies” touches on all kinds of psychological ramifications of overpopulation, couldn’t he have found a better title?

The circus metaphors in “Over The Edge” don’t excuse a keyboard hook straight out of “Freeze-Frame” by the J. Geils Band, but he still manages to cram a lot of lyrics in. “Surviving” takes the other tack, being to find one hook and beat it into the ground. The best part of this six-minute opus is the breakdown over the final two, where they repeat a few wordless phrases over trilling acoustics and what sounds like at least one banjo. Dave’s guitar and harmonies have been prominent thus far, and “It’s Alright (Don’t Think About It)” provides something of a defiant determination with a spidery riff any grunge or hair metal band would have killed to have. “The Informer” comes completely out of left field, a gentle monologue by one pub patron to another, hinting at lots of back story and intrigue that’s only alluded to and never explained, unless we’re missing something really obvious.

Not so with “Hatred (A Duet)”, which seems to be the answer to some suit’s idea that it would hilarious if the Davies brothers sang a song about how they really feel about each other. It’s generally embarrassing. There’s no metaphor in “Somebody Stole My Car” unless you really want one; the best part is the “beep beep yeah” quote at the end. Only two tracks after yelling at each other, the boys were able to swap verses and harmonize on “Close To The Wire”, another example of Dave summing up a side’s worth of Ray’s angst in one song. The best is saved for last, as “Scattered” opens with a strum of “Lola” dobro and travels through rather dour subject matter—she’s gone and I’m alone, we all turn to dust someday—over a very jaunty tune, complete with accordion.

For the most part, Phobia isn’t a “bad” Kinks album, especially considering the handful that preceded it. The music is driven mostly by guitars, and the drums only occasionally sound canned, so on the surface, the album rocks. When you try to get into it, however, its flaws emerge, and you wish they had kept the songs tight and compact, rather than try to fill up a CD. It must have been too much for the band, as to date, it is the last Kinks album of new material. God rest the Kinks.

The Kinks Did Ya (1991)—2½
The Kinks Phobia (1993)—3

Todd Rundgren 35: State

The good thing about Todd Rundgren constantly upgrading his technology is that with every one-man band album, he sounds closer to something organic even when he’s relying on electronics. Of course, it also helps if he’s got songs, and State does have a few of those, but not enough.

Over a bed of extraterrestrial synthesizers right off of any of his other albums, “Imagination” crawls towards us from across the desert. Both “verse” and “chorus” seesaw between two chords, but while the former is more pastoral, the latter is pure forboding, with suitably grungy guitars. The eight minutes don’t drag, but then everything changes. “Serious” is mildly jokey, unfortunately locked into a synth-funk backing that does the sentiment no favors. “In My Mouth” (as in “something in my mouth for you”) comes from a standard lyrical trope following a trip to the doctor, but overstays its welcome, while “Ping Me” is a modern take on basic communication. But comparing the plight of women to a popular video game in “Angry Bird” is a major whiff.

What we’d call side two begins as the first did, with a mysterious synthesizer heralding “Smoke”. The dance beat is a bit much, yet the track holds up. Not so “Collide-a-Scope”, already used as a clever song title and better song by nemesis Andy Partridge for the XTC side project the Dukes of Stratosphear, and theirs wasn’t a litany of opposites. Thankfully with “Something For Nothing” we finally have a track worthy of his talents, lyrically and melodically, nicely supported by Rachel Haden on the bridge and chorus. “Party Liquor”, which pointedly sounds like it’s set in a dance club, kills that mood, but it can be skipped in favor of the bleak landscape of “Sir Reality”, which has some screaming lead guitar above the synth beds.

Those still wanting to dive in to State would have been best served by springing for the deluxe edition, which boasted selections from a concert that covered his entire career, pop to prog, accompanied by the Metropole Orkest in big band arrangements on a second disc. He’s started to croon in his advancing years, but things like “Pretending To Care” and even songs from 2nd Wind get a fresh perspective. The otherwise unavailable “Frogs”, about a plague of same, allows him to indulge his Gilbert & Sullivan tendencies. (He encouraged attendees to film it, and the complete show is still available for viewing.) It’s still more entertaining than the zoopa-zoopa techno medley of “Can We Still Be Friends?”, “I Saw The Light”, and “Hello It’s Me” stuck at the end of the digital version of State itself.

Todd Rundgren State (2013)—2

Joe Jackson 22: Hope And Fury

It’s always encouraging when Joe Jackson emerges with a set of songs that aren’t specially part of a grand concept. Hope And Fury finds him keeping it basic yet again—another good sign—with his current trio backing him, anchored yet again by the staunch bass of Graham Maby. The music is described as “bicoastal Latin jazz funk rock”, which pretty much sums up his more commercial albums.

That description isn’t immediately apparent on the opening to “Welcome To Burning-By-Sea”, where the tribal rhythm doesn’t support any kind of melody until the chorus. If there is a theme to the album, it would be the state of the world, particularly in comparison to life in the same place in another time. (And frankly, the cover photo looks just a little too much like bad AI.) His defiance comes through on the more melodic “I’m Not Sorry”, a slap at cancel culture from a guy still miffed he can’t smoke in bars. “Made God Laugh” is the first really constructed and arranged song here, incorporating echoes of previous decades and a killer chorus. Speaking of previous decades, “Do Do Do” (which rhymes with “no no no”) begins with a cop on “Twist And Shout” sports cheesy Farfisa organ and guitar stabs while has a lot of fun with wordplay. The saga of Billy in “Fabulous People” may or may not be autobiographical, but boy, is it catchy. (The percolating bass and doubled piano and xylophone evoke that of “Stepping Out”.)

Unfortunately the main guitar riff of “After All This Time” immediately resonates of “Smooth” by Santana, and it’s a shame he couldn’t have found a better hook, since the pre-choruses and choruses are worth getting to, to the point where one doesn’t notice the deliberately pointed clichés stacked in the verses. “The Face” is another anthem for the timid, with a terrific call-and-response bridge and extended solos highlighting almost Klezmer violins, progressive guitar, and his own piano. On an album with already sophisticated ideas, “The End Of The Pier” stands out with its precise juxtaposition of families a century apart, even if the earlier one doesn’t seem that far back. (In fact, “Sunday Papers” would fit lyrically at the halfway point.) “See You In September” is thankfully not the near-bubblegum hit from the ‘60s, but something more resonant of the Great American Songbook, with its Ellington chords and shades of “As Time Goes By”. It would have been better served with just the piano and strings, and without percussion, but he really likes that percussion.

While Hope And Fury is short and sweet at under 35 minutes, there’s enough here for sinking one’s teeth. Although it doesn’t grab with the immediacy of Rain or Fool, it’s another fine installment in what seems to be a career without end.

Joe Jackson Hope And Fury (2026)—3

Daniel Lanois 3: Sling Blade

Production work and his own musical forays were still trickling in, but Daniel Lanois arguably got his widest exposure in the mid-‘90s in the context of Billy Bob Thornton’s breakthrough film Sling Blade. Lanois’ swampy atmospherics were well suited to heavy, hot, and humid scenery in the movie, and are weaved through out the soundtrack album. “Bettina”, “Omni”, and “Secret Place” are trademark instrumentals in his brand, and “Asylum”, “Orange Kay”, and “Blue Waltz” are suitably dark. Fellow Hamiltonian Russell Wilson collaborated with engineer Mark Howard on “Phone Call”. “Jimmy Was” isn’t that far musically from “Still Water” from his debut solo release, and “The Maker” resurfaces over the closing credits, ending the album.

Mostly, if there are vocals, they’re by other people. A relatively brief “Shenandoah” comes from his recent sessions producing Emmylou Harris, while Tim Gibbons, another Ontario native, croons his own brooding “Lonely One”. We were mystified for years by Bambi Lee Savage, whose “Darlin’” provides a wonderfully sweet break here and in the movie, until we found out she was previously known as Shannon Strong, who’d had engineering credits on U2’s Achtung Baby and their Passengers album with Brian Eno. The old 45 of “Soul Dressing” by Booker T. & The M.G.’s fits just fine, while the inclusion of Local H’s cover of Guided By Voices’ “Smothered In Hugs” seems like record label finagling, since it’s not in the film, wonderful as it is. Sadly, the backporch performance by Dwight Yoakam’s character’s band in the movie, featuring Ian Moore, Vic Chestnutt, Col. Bruce Hampton, and Mickey Jones, is not included. (For those who haven’t seen it, Dwight is genuinely terrifying in this film.)

Decades later, after the album had gone out of print and he’d started selling music via his own website, My Music For Billy Bob recycled his own contributions to the soundtrack, and added a few that didn’t make it, some for obvious reasons. “The One I Love” has a drum machine and doesn’t sound like much more than a demo, but “Nicky” is based around a pretty piano and other keyboards, and “London” has that eerie quality that may well have been used somewhere. “Willie Brown” would appear edited as “Flametop Green” on Belladonna, and the melody of “Moondog” would end up on another Emmylou Harris album. The album is nice to have if you can’t find the soundtrack, but you will end up with yet another copy of “The Maker”.

Music From The Miramax Motion Picture Sling Blade (1996)—3½
Daniel Lanois My Music For Billy Bob (2014)—3

Yes 13: Yesshows and Classic Yes

While Yes was in a state of limbo, somewhat, they still owed the label some product. This conundrum was addressed in the usual way, first with their second live album. Yesshows was taken from recordings at five locations over the last three tours with Jon Anderson, yet still works as an entity to itself.

The finale from Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite is the opening fanfare as the band takes the stage for “Parallels”. Steve Howe does an awful lot of noodling through “Time And A Word”, the only earlier song here, having been revived in the wake of Yesterdays as part of a medley of earlier songs, not included here. Instead there’s a sharp but effective edit into “Going For The One”. Side two was devoted to “The Gates Of Delirium”, when Patrick Moraz was still in the band and Rick Wakeman wasn’t, and it translates well to the stage, particularly the transition from the solos into “Soon”.

Jon helpfully explains the impetus for “Don’t Kill The Whale”, after which he thanks various crew members over an against-type band jam and actually says “Don’t put that funk in mah face.” “Ritual” (again with Moraz) had to be split between sides on vinyl, and is now all one track. Chris Squire gets a decent bass solo, but the Tuvan-style throat singing during the percussion freakout is almost laughable, making the final “Nous Sommes Du Soleil” section a big relief. There’s a sloppy edit before “Wonderous Stories”, but Chris adds nice harmonies.

Outside of the devoted, Yesshows was always something of a stepsibling to Yessongs, and didn’t make it to CD outside of Japan until the ‘90s. Also, it was only a double album, as a triple album wasn’t going to fly in 1980, but it least it didn’t repeat selections.

Two such candidates for the album did appear a little over a year later, kind of. Some editions of the Classic Yes compilation included a bonus 45 consisting of live 1978 recordings of “Roundabout” and “All Good People”. (The cassette added a song to the end of each side, while the eventual CD had both at the end of the disc.) The album itself was sufficient as an overview of a now-defunct band, concentrating on some of their longer yet popular pieces, most of which were established radio staples. “Heart Of The Sunrise” is a surprising opener, jumping ahead to “Wondrous Stories” then back to “Yours Is No Disgrace”. “Starship Trooper” feeds into “Long Distance Runaround” and “The Fish”, and “And You And I” sums up the final Bruford trilogy. Plus it had another Roger Dean cover to underscore its place in the canon. And with that, the band’s label contract was fulfilled.

Yes Yesshows (1980)—3
Yes Classic Yes (1981)—3½

Oasis 7: Heathen Chemistry

With rhythm guitarist Gem Archer and bassist Andy Bell still on board since the live album, the Gallagher brothers felt confident enough to get back to the rock with Heathen Chemistry. Noel seemed to have cut back on the nose candy, and even let the other members contribute to the songwriting. Even Liam wrote three songs of his own.

You’d be forgiven for fearing some kind of insensitive musical decoration on a song called “The Hindu Times”, but to their credit none of the other lyrics would have been better titles, and we’re off and running. “Force Of Nature” starts out like Iggy Pop’s “Nightclubbing”, but gets more of its own character when Noel starts singing. “Hung In A Bad Place” is very reminiscent of their first and third albums, but since one of the new guys wrote it that’s just fine. The piano on “Stop Crying Your Heart Out” brings to mind early Bee Gees in a good way, though we wish Noel had let off the “Wonderwall”-style echoed voices during the verses. The song still works as an anthem, especially as it sets up Liam’s utterly charming “Songbird” strum, sadly over before we know it. Noel seems to slow things down again on “Little By Little”, and we’re not used to hearing him sound so humanistic, but as ever, he knows how to nail a chorus.

“A Quick Peep” is indeed that, a rockin’ sketch by the bass player, then “(Probably) All In The Mind” recycles those Revolver tropes that put them and others on the map. The feedback doesn’t dominate, and a kinder, gentler Noel rises out of the fade with the attempt at sincerity of “She Is Love”, but even the Mellotron flutes can’t hide that this song has been written several times already, to the point where we can’t place the original source for the theft. (We suspect somewhere in Laurel Canyon, and tips or leads are welcome.) “Born On A Different Cloud” proves that Liam hasn’t learned how to vary a melody yet, but the “Karma Police” piano and dirge rhythm are more White Album than 1967, even if it does drag at six minutes, and enough with the Mellotron flutes already. He does better with “Better Man”—not the Pearl Jam song, nor an update of “It’s Gettin’ Better (Man!!)”—which favors guitars over its trip-hop backing. The half-hour of silence at the of the song serves only to fill up the disc to capacity, but since “The Cage” apparently never got lyrics, it provides a mildly moody finale. And they just couldn’t lay off the Mellotron.

Derivative as it is—and despite how many times we used the word “but” throughout this summation—Heathen Chemistry succeeds from not being overly indulgent or self-important. They still had their swagger, of course, though they weren’t trying to push people away. Too much, anyway. The parts are mostly better than the whole.

Oasis Heathen Chemistry (2002)—3

Prince 26: One Nite Alone

Having not learned his lesson with the Crystal Ball debacle, Prince tried again to make his music available directly to his fans, this time via online subscription. It was a nice idea, but those who parted with a hundred bucks complained first about the frequency of releases, as well as repetition of stuff they’d already received.

At any rate, the first such issue was One Night Alone…, billed as “solo piano and voice”, which is pretty much what we get for just over half an hour. The title track is a slow seduction, starting off nice and pretty over two chords, alternating between falsetto and spoken, escalating into a Keith Jarrett exploration, then out. Apparently she didn’t buy it, given the heartbreak in “U’re Gonna C Me”. “Here On Earth” is even slower, a rumination on a dream with some overdubs, including drums by John Blackwell. He pulls out some guitar and bass for “A Case Of U”, a cover of his favorite Joni Mitchell song, though he only uses the second verse.

“Have A ” is loaded with nonstandard chord changes and unexpected harmonies, and its mildly vague content makes an odd direct segue into the salacious metaphors of “Objects In The Mirror”. It’s right into “Avalanche”, another lovely performance, but the lyrics air eyebrow-raising claims about the history of slavery in America. After that, “Pearls B4 The Swine” is a quirky little post-breakup number, the closest thing to a catchy single. “Young And Beautiful” could be one too, with a message of empowerment for the object of the song, leaving us with “Arboretum”, a lovely instrumental closing theme of sorts, after which he gets up and walks away. (His pet doves are credited with “ambient singing”.)

The album was something of a taster for the One Night Alone… tour, where he was accompanied his smallest combo in years—albeit with Maceo Parker, Candy Dulfer, and Najee on horns—and would spawn his first official live album. He was ostensibly promoting The Rainbow Children, and the music certainly thrives onstage; the deep narration is still there, but mostly he just plays, mostly on guitar. The only real rarity is “Xenophobia”, which serves to introduce the band and to admonish those in the audience who came for the oldies. He does touch on his entire catalog, but more on deep cuts than obvious choices. “Extraordinary” and “The Other Side Of The Pillow” are surprises, while the adjusted title “When U Were Mine” and “Take Me With U” retain the vibe of the records. After 90 minutes he says good night, but comes back for a set alone at the piano cocktail lounge-style, touching on romantic favorites and encouraging the crowd. They go nuts when “Nothing Compares 2 U” kicks in, and the band comes back and stays for the duration. “Free” goes into “Starfish & Coffee”, then “Sometimes It Snows In April” and “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore”, and “Anna Stesia” stretches for ten minutes so he can harangue about God before a moody coda and farewell.

But that wasn’t all either. A third disc, The Aftershow: It Aint Over!, provides a glimpse into his tradition of hitting a club a few hours after finishing a concert to keep the party going. Larry Graham sits in on a torrid “Joy In Repetition”, George Clinton croaks “We Do This”, and Questlove and Musiq Soulchild are on the medley of the latter’s “Just Friends” and Sly Stone’s “If You Want Me To Stay”. “2 Nigs United For West Compton” fits well with “Alphabet St.” He threatens to keep “Peach” going for twenty minutes, but we only hear eleven. “Dorothy Parker” is more subdued but jazzy, “Girls & Boys” is mostly suggested by one chorus, and the closing vamp on “Everlasting Now” brings it full circle to the main show. All in all, a satisfying experience. (In 2020, the Up All Nite With Prince: The One Nite Alone Collection box included all of the above, plus the Live At The Aladdin Las Vegas DVD. Not included was 2004’s C-Note, a download-only EP consisting of four soundcheck jams—two funky and two moody—plus the first-ever release of “Empty Room”, a song about heartbreak dating from 1985.)

Prince One Night Alone… (2002)—3
Prince & The New Power Generation One Night Alone… Live! (2002)—3½