Guided By Voices 4: Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia

Robert Pollard kept Guided By Voices alive as a studio band, releasing albums himself once he finalized a lineup and artwork. What we now call a lo-fi approach makes Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia closest yet to the trademark GBV sound. And at 37 minutes, it was their longest album yet.

“The Future Is In Eggs” follows the usual Pollard method of having a droning root note while a guitar moves around on top of it. The reverberating drums are a nice touch, and his words are nearly unintelligible. “The Great Blake Street Canoe Race” has a familiar jangle and another crazy title, culminating in a guitar solo—a prototype of “Echos Myron”, if you will. Unfortunately things start to go sideways on “Slopes Of Big Ugly”, which sounds like it was cobbled together a note at a time for some sludgy noise. Thirty seconds of garage-style chords and drums switch abruptly to the lovely acoustic “Paper Girl”, with nice self-harmonies. The insistent riff of “Navigating Flood Regions” interrupts that, and soon develops into a cool rocker. “An Earful O’Wax” is in the same key, so he’s starting to repeat himself, but when it finds other chords for the chorus, it comes to life, and even changes tempo, showing his prog roots. It seems longer than its four minutes. “White Whale” seems like more of the same one-chord pounding, but again, there are clever changes in the choruses; if only we could discern the words.

“Trampoline” is another variation on the droning root formula with murky vocals, bested by the arpeggiated picking and catchy choruses on “Short On Posters”. The fade on the end sets up the hard metal approach to “Chief Barrel Berry”, wherein Pollard imagines he’s fronting a bunch of long-haired players on a stage with shooting flames and flashing lights. The only lyric we can get is “they say love is the one thing we needed in this world to be happy”, which is repeated, likely to pumping fists and much headbanging. Then on “Dying To Try This” he’s back to singing by himself over a barely tuned acoustic; “cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other” means it’s autobiographical. But it’s just an interlude as “The Qualifying Remainder” brings back the crunch, over a robotic drum beat that challenges whoever’s being forced to play it. (We’re assuming that’s Kevin Fennell, as he gets co-writing credit.) It’s mostly noise, until Pollard finds that one melody line towards the end that keeps it from getting too monotonous. The see-saw goes back for “Liar’s Tale”, with its tremolo guitar and solo reverbed vocal. This could be a power pop song if it only had a rhythm section; instead we get just a couple of snare hits during the brief guitar solo. Somehow “Radio Show (Trust The Wizard)” brings the best parts of the record together—chords, vocals, harmonies, tempo shifts, even backwards effects. It even has a coda that seems unrelated to anything else.

While they were still using professional-level techniques, the homemade approach on Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia kept costs down, so it sounds like songs from all over, as opposed to a unified whole. And it works, most of the time.

Guided By Voices Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia (1989)—3

Queen 15: The Miracle

By the time Queen released The Miracle, many of their hard-rocking contemporaries had tried to market themselves to the hair metal crowd. Brian May could shred with the best of them, but that didn’t stop him or the other members of the band from experimenting with drum machines. If anyone was looking for a straight rock album, this wasn’t it. (The cover design was apparently supposed to signify unity, as demonstrated by the songwriter credits given to the band as a whole, and not individuals. Once you got past the frightening spectacle of the band sharing five eyes, you’d’ve noticed Freddie’s mustache was gone.)

Clattery percussion introduces the upbeat “Party”, which sounds nothing like them save Freddie Mercury’s voice and some of the guitar parts. It doesn’t sound like the kind of party their fans would attend. There’s a sharp edit into “Khashoggi’s Ship”, which is even more removed from the real world by referencing a billionaire arms dealer over the kind of funk-metal riffs lesser bands were pushing at the time. The title track is much more complex, with faux-classical touches, and humanistic lyrics that would be better served as an actual Christmas song. There’s a tempo change near the end to allow for some finger-tapping, then the original tempo change and melody come back for a reprise that’s better than all that came before. The expressed hope for peace on earth and such is brushed aside by the more demanding “I Want It All”, a more straight-ahead radio-friendly track that unfortunately brings to mind Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka. Despite its overblown aspects, it’s a decent track. But “The Invisible Man” sounds like the work of Roger Taylor, who didn’t realize he was ripping off “Ghostbusters”, which itself ripped off “I Want A New Drug”. The most interesting parts of the track are where each member is introduced by name.

It’s been a while since we’ve had a lush, operatic Queen track, and while “Breakthru” starts that way, the rest of the song is shackled to a burbling synth, redeemed only by the admittedly catchy choruses. This one is just screaming for an overhaul. The same might be said for “Rain Must Fall”, with its carnival-style Latin percussion and already dated synth effects. Still very much of its time but somehow successful—even if it does sound like a musical rewrite of “Radio Gaga”—is “Scandal”, which addresses the journalistic muckraking various band members had experienced in recent years. Yet after that high point comes the half-assed “My Baby Does Me”, which has enough changes and guitar parts to deserve real drums and better lyrics. Hindsight may suggest that “Was It All Worth It”—besides being the very question the listener might be asking by the end of the album—is something of an end-of-life statement, but the faux-mystical intro, pounding arrangement, and the orchestral interlude straight out of a sci-fi soundtrack take any gravitas into parody.

The band did not tour behind the album, for reasons yet to be revealed, but it was something of a hit, particularly on CD, where it had three extra tracks. The first expansion of the album contained those, plus an extended version of “Scandal”. That last track was not included on the next expansion 20 years later, but the others were, along with two more B-sides and demo and extended mixes of “The Invisible Man”.

These additions paled to the contents of 2022’s The Miracle—Collector’s Edition, which added four CDs worth of material, much of it previously unreleased. A “sessions” disc offered an hour of demos and early takes—most of which are more appealing than the overproduced final tracks, and include studio chatter—including the rediscovered “Face It Alone”, the all-Freddie “When Love Breaks Up” that spawned “Breakthru”, a couple of nice Brian sketches, and other unfinished tracks. Another disc collected all the extended versions and contemporary B-sides, another had all backing tracks, and radio interviews filled up the fifth. Videos and more interviews were on both DVD and Blu-ray, and the behemoth even included the album on vinyl, with the then-outtake “Too Much Love Will Kill You” in the middle of the first side. (A two-CD version consisted of the album and sessions discs.)

Queen The Miracle (1989)—2
1989 CD: same as 1989, plus 3 extra tracks
1991 Hollywood reissue: same as 1989 CD, plus 1 extra track
2011 remaster: same as 1989 CD, plus 4 extra tracks
2022 Collector’s Edition: same as 2011, plus 34 extra tracks (plus DVD, Blu-ray, and LP)

Neil Young 76: Second Song

Ever since Neil Young got divorced, his albums have increasingly referenced his own life, more directly and blatantly than they did for the first fifty years of his career. We only mention this because it’s all there in the lyrics; he stops just short of naming names when it comes to his family, but doesn’t hold back when he’s yelling about current events. And the first good thing about Second Song is that there is no yelling, at all, anywhere. Rather, it’s a pensive reverie by an 80-year-old man who knows, as they say, his time ain’t long.

“The Foggy Edge Of Time” wanders in on repeated piano notes and presents something of a memoir and explanation for his recent life change (spoiler alert: alcohol appears to have been a problem for somebody) while Micah Nelson’s atmospheric guitar and an uncredited Mellotron add to the dreamy vibe. Three familiar chords drive “Day After Day”, which acknowledges both the hardship and the wonder of life, while soft harmonies and Spooner Oldham’s piano make for a simple but catchy chorus. “Earth Girl” is an unabashed tribute to his wife, using as many references to nature and the sky that he can find. The title track is the album’s centerpiece, and not just because it’s over eleven minutes long. It’s another observation of the world, nicely accompanied by video taken driving around his old ranch, with harmonica breaks, vibraphone strikes, and Micah exploring a dulcimer. There are chord changes beyond the basic them, and at the very end he finds a motif he repeats a couple times, which helps shape the journey.

The new songs weren’t enough to fill an album, so he went back into his archives—not for the first time—to re-record a couple of oldies. “Casting Me Away From You” was a demo recorded in 1965 with friend Comrie Smith, then the melody turned up as “The Emperor Of Wyoming” on his first solo album. The lyrical content is very much the opposite of his current relationship songs, but newcomers will enjoy hearing references to other tunes. A blast of fuzz guitar that’s not really that loud but startling because it’s the first time we’ve heard one opens “Soon I Might Be Going”, yet another rumination on passing time, this one over nine minutes. He mentions the current president and the literal demolition of the White House, but that’s a precursor to noticing how things are changing in towns all over, and that he might not be around to seeing what happens next. Rather than end the album on a downer, he goes back in the past again. “I’ll Love You Forever” was first recorded way back in 1964 with his first band, The Squires; this new version is a little slower, but replicates some of the seashore effects from the original, as well as the tremolo guitars. It also resonates in his current life, so there you go.

There is a lot of sameness throughout Second Song, between the recycled melodies and chord changes. It’s not the masterpiece some have touted, and we suspect we like it simply because many of his albums in this century have sounded made up on the spot. It’s easy to enjoy and while slow, doesn’t take up a lot of time. (The After The Gold Rush lettering on the cover is a nice touch too.)

Neil Young & The Chrome Hearts Second Song (2026)—3

Bill Wyman 4: Willie And The Poor Boys

1985 was the year of benefit music releases, dominated by “We Are The World”, Live Aid, Farm Aid, and “Sun City”. But another project got some notice, seeing as it was organized by Bill Wyman in the wake of the ARMS concerts, which raised awareness and assistance for Ronnie Lane of the Faces, who was suffering from a debilitating case of multiple sclerosis.

Despite its inevitable confusion with a certain Creedence Clearwater Revival album, the eponymous album by Willie and the Poor Boys was a fun little collection of ‘50s covers, played by a core band of Andy Fairweather-Low, Mickey Gee and Geraint Watkins from Dave Edmunds’ band, and drums shared between Charlie Watts, Kenney Jones, Henry Spinetti, and Terry Williams. Everyone except the drummers took turns on lead vocals; Bill himself stuck mostly to bass, but does a decent job on “You Never Can Tell” and the only mildly cajun “All Night Long”. Paul Rodgers and Jimmy Page, then busy in The Firm, get the spotlight on two tracks: overtly on Otis Redding’s “These Arms Of Mine” and less so on “Slippin’ And Slidin’”. But the lead single and best track was “Baby Please Don’t Go”, featuring Chris Rea.

The album came and went, and about seven years later Bill put together a new version of the band anchored by Gary Brooker for a few shows, in something of a preview of what he’d pursue with the Rhythm Kings after he left the Stones. A live album appeared to little fanfare, but it was included in the double-disc Poor Boy Boogie along with its older brother in 2006, and about ten years later in The Complete Willie And The Poor Boys, which also included a DVD containing a documentary, the video for “These Arms Of Mine”, and the original promotional film. This charming little piece had the band miming to the songs in a retro setting with poodle-skirted dancers and slick spivs, though Ronnie Wood’s drunken miming on sax under his badly hidden rooster haircut kept it anachronous. Ringo even had a cameo, without beard or mustache, as a janitor.

Willie And The Poor Boys Willie And The Poor Boys (1985)—3

David Bowie 48: The Shel Talmy Recordings

Back in 1965 somehow an 18-year-old kid got the attention of Shel Talmy, the expatriate American producer who’d already started making hits with The Kinks and The Who. First as the long-haired frontman of the Manish Boys, then with a mod coif in Davie Jones & The Lower Third, he gamely tried to become the next big thing, and those attempts can be heard throughout The Shel Talmy Recordings. While his voice is certainly recognizable, he hadn’t become David Bowie yet, literally or figuratively.

The Manish Boys only managed one single; on “I Pity The Fool”, the band is augmented by horns and a certain Jimmy Page on noticeable guitar, while “Take My Tip” features his own saxophone. The later sessions as the Lower Third yielded eight tracks in addition to another single, “You’ve Got A Habit Of Leaving” and “Baby Loves That Way”. Besides being two of the best songs here, they would be revisited 35 years on during the Toy sessions. Both of these also sported some of the distortion and feedback familiar from tunes like “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” and “You Really Got Me”. That’s even more blatant on the unreleased “I Want Your Love” and “Keeping Up With The Jones” instrumental. The other tracks, all written by him, aren’t exactly buried treasure, from the one-chord slog of “Cupid” to tough-guy love laments like “Leave Her To Me”, “You Gotta Tell Her”, and “Glad I’ve Got Nobody”. When any piano is heard, it’s Nicky Hopkins; the other musicians are competent but average.

The set presents the dozen Talmy productions out of chronological order; alternate vocals for the four songs released on singles are included at the end of the CD version. The handful of acoustic demos with an unknown accompanist show he wasn’t tied to R&B, as predict his infatuation with crooners like Anthony Newley and Scott Walker. “Today” is rather striking, from its sophisticated chords and harmonies, “I Live In Dreams” is an idea he’d keep pursuing, and “Bars Of The County Jail” is ahead of its time, to be polite.

Some of this material, along with his first single with the King Bees and songs from a later period with producer Tony Hatch, made up Rhino’s Early On (1964-1966) compilation in 1991. It’s probably just a matter of time before the estate repackages those somehow. As for The Shel Talmy Recordings, the sound is as good as it will likely get, and the liner notes tell the most complete story of this era yet.

David Bowie The Shel Talmy Recordings (2026)—2½

Grateful Dead 24: Dick’s Picks Volume One

Only two installments into the Dead’s “From The Vault” series came another release program that actually became an ongoing series that lasted into the next century. Dick’s Picks were named for Dick Latvala, who not only maintained the band’s archive of recordings but constant communication with fans in chat rooms on the emerging internet. The recordings he chose were all good if not pristine, being basic two-track stereo as opposed to multitrack; hence the “caveat emptor” note inside all the releases. The packaging was simple yet clever: the first six used a tape box format for the cover design, which was followed by a flying carpet motif for the next six, then six with tie-dye, six with a lightning bolt, an outlier for #25, five with a postage stamp, and six with a crazy lightshow pattern. The series was supposed to be available only by mail order, though outside the US some volumes could be found at retail. Starting in 2011, the Real Gone label began reissuing them on CD, and some on vinyl for the first time.

So how would a project like this kick off? They chose a December 1973 show—a period that would be revisited on ten subsequent vault digs and counting, as shown below—and it’s, well, okay. Bill was the only drummer, and Donna was off having a baby; in fact, she’s credited alongside the other musicians as “giving birth”. The songs include selections from the new Wake Of The Flood album, with detours to “Big Railroad Blues” and Johnny Cash’s “River”. While there’s certainly a continuity to the album, it’s not the complete show, and songs from the second set are interspersed among songs from the first set, which ends along with disc one with a 20-minute “Playing In The Band” that still omits an alleged bass solo. Disc two picks up the second set from “He’s Gone” into “Truckin’”, which meanders into “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” and meandering jam that finds its way to a couple of minutes of “The Other One” before descending into a feedback-laden drums ‘n space segment. This slows way down for “Stella Blue”, speeding up just a hair to close with Chuck Berry’s “Around And Around”.

Eighteen months went by before a second volume appeared, after which the series continued with a release schedule of three and eventually four a year. It wasn’t until the fifth volume that complete concerts began being released—in sequence, unless a song was missing for whatever reason—once the archivists realized Deadheads would gladly shell out for a three-disc package. Sometimes, to fill in extra disc space, “bonus” tracks would be included from a show in the same period. The occasional two-disc set still happened but #20 was the first of eight sets to contain two shows on four discs; #29 had two shows on six. (By that time the producers had been “flying in” elements of other shows as “patches” to cover missing content and preserve flow.)

Dick curated the first 16 installments, and the series continued for six years after his death with another 20 under the supervision of archivist David Lemieux, who was born a week after American Beauty came out. By that time the Download Series had started, resulting in 13 shows released over the space of a year, then the Road Trips series of tour highlights provided 19 installments over the next four years. In 2012, the Dave’s Picks series began issuing four shows a year, and it’s still going. (The first of these consisted of a show that took place within days of Dick’s Picks Volume Three; the road goes ever on indeed.)

Grateful Dead Dick’s Picks Volume One (1993)—3
     Archival releases of same vintage:
     • Dick’s Picks Volume Fourteen (1999)
     • Dick’s Picks Volume Nineteen (2000)
     • Download Series Volume 8 (2005)
     • Winterland 1973: The Complete Recordings (2008)
     • Road Trips: Vol. 4, No. 3 (2011)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 5 (2013)
     • 30 Trips Around The Sun: The Definitive Live Story 1965-1995 (2015)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 38 (2021)
     • Listen To The River: St. Louis ‘71 ‘72 ‘73 (2021)
     • Wake Of The Flood: 50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition (2023)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 58 (2026)

Nilsson 14: That’s The Way It Is

Since he still had a record deal after years without hits, RCA decided they were entitled to tell Harry Nilsson what kind of album to make. Looking at his successes, that meant a big-time producer and radio-friendly tunes. And if he couldn’t write any, he should cover some. And that’s pretty much what he did on ...That’s The Way It Is, which followed his last album by six months.

A lovely rendition of “That Is All”, a hidden gem by George Harrison, would seem to set a tone somewhere between romance and the standards tackled on A Little Touch Of Schmilsson In The Night. His voice is better, but not back to his peak. The same lush approach is applied to a medley of the oldies “Just One Look” and “Baby I’m Yours”, sung as a duet with latter-day Supreme Lynda Laurence, who just happened to be married to the producer, and we can just hear a touch of disco seeping in. He wrote “Moonshine Bandit” himself with Danny Kortchmar, and if this was the only song in his catalog that used steel drums, it would be plenty, as it’s pretty decent. Possibly most worrying is a cover of America’s “I Need You”, which was a top ten hit around the time of his last one, and given a delivery that clearly is trying to be another “Without You”, but with mild histrionics bordering on satire. It’s back to doo-wop for “A Thousand Miles Away”, but about a minute in he introduces another vocalist—“the one and only Tony La Peau”—to finish it for him amid canned applause.

Being a Randy Newman, he clearly understood the underlying irony in “Sail Away”, but gives it another sumptuous reading that disguises the racism and horror within. Amazingly he didn’t write “She Sits Down On Me”, as the idea of being the boyfriend of a tattooed lady is right up his alley, but unfortunately the punchline of the title is given away in the first verse, and the rest of the song can’t sustain the joke. “Daylight Has Caught Me” was written with Dr. John, and almost sounds like an Elton John pastiche along the lines of “Honky Cat” and such. The steel drums return for the calypso favorite “Zombie Jamboree (Back To Back)”, and his voice is very raspy by now, but this fades into a lush reprise of “That Is All”, a cappella with layered harmonies that might actually be all him.

It’s hard to tell from listening whether he was at all proud of ...That’s The Way It Is. The cover shows him reading a copy of Penthouse magazine with bottles, food, records, and other magazines strewn about a cluttered room. A copy of Duit On Mon Dei (with God’s Greatest Hits, his original intended title) is on the back cover, not far from a poster of Eldridge and Beaver Cleaver. That was about as funny as the label would let him be, but nobody was laughing about the dwindling returns.

Nilsson ...That’s The Way It Is (1976)—2

Beach Boys 6: All Summer Long

By now the Beach Boys were in direct competition with the Beatles, and Brian Wilson was determined to make albums of their quality, even in the chopped-up versions Capitol concocted from the British sequences. More and more he was utilizing members of the Wrecking Crew in the studio along with the Boys themselves. But he still had a brand to maintain, so All Summer Long kept up the image of fun, fun, fun in the sun, sun, sun.

It was also required by law to start an album with a hit single, and with “I Get Around” they had a well-deserved #1 amid some pretty stiff competition that didn’t sport harpsichords. The title track is a slightly better thematic rewrite of “Keep An Eye On Summer”, but it’s so singalongable that you may not notice the marimbas and piccolo solo. “Hushabye” was a cover of a doo-wop tune, and another nice showcase for their harmonies; now we can hear a touch of “Heroes And Villains” in the opening and closing piano. A twist on the car theme comes in “Little Honda”, a paean to the Japan-manufactured motorcycle with a chorus that must have written itself. (We suspect they were gunning for an endorsement, or at least free bikes.) “We’ll Run Away” is a rather simpering tune about kids who really, really wanna get married, but it likely reflected Brian’s own feelings about his girlfriend Marilyn, who was all of 16, and only six months away from becoming the first Mrs. Wilson. Whereas Dennis got namechecked on the last album, “Carl’s Big Chance” lets the youngest Wilson solo over standard changes from a Marvin Gaye song. Frankly, he plays better elsewhere.

For more of a progression, “Wendy” is very unconventional, from its tentative intro, through the Four Seasons-style vocal arrangement, the organ solo, and the throwback in the coda; an arrangement worthy of George Martin. Given the era when it was written, “Do You Remember?” can be heard as a reminder to American fans about the rock ‘n roll pioneers who inspired their British idols. Typical for Brian, it’s barely 90 seconds long, but seems longer. Much more complicated is “Girls On The Beach”, which still recycles phrases from “Surfer Girl” and other dreamy Brian concoctions. “Drive-In” continues the summer theme, and it is kinda funny, though Mike Love is a little too old to be singing about such mischievous antics. “Our Favorite Recording Sessions” is more unfortunate filler, two minutes of chatter without context and blown takes that only serves to set up “Don’t Back Down”. This would be their last song overtly about surfing for some time, but at least the attaboy sentiment is universal, and Brian’s falsetto counterpoint to the main melody is still impressive.

All Summer Long showed that Brian was growing more innovative, but he was still shoehorned into the same old message, and the pressure of touring while keeping up with a release schedule affected the quality. Clearly, he needed more time and space to create.

The associated bonus tracks on the two-fer CD included striking alternate takes of “Little Honda” and “Don’t Back Down”, plus the eye-opening “All Dressed Up For School”. Beyond the “Louie Louie”-style opening, its lyrics were a little too excited about how much the subject of the song had grown up. As this was to remain an outtake, Brian would use the melody for at least two other songs down the road. (Some fifty years later, the streaming-only Keep An Eye On Summer compilation provided further peeks into the sessions for this album and others.)

The Beach Boys All Summer Long (1964)—2½
1990 CD reissue: same as 1964, plus Little Deuce Coupe album and 4 extra tracks

Style Council 3: Home & Abroad

By now it should have been clear that Paul Weller wasn’t kidding about this whole Style Council thing. Two albums, as well as several singles and extended plays, seemingly erased the Jam and their sound from his memory. He was all about soul now, and proved it on stage. They were the second act at Live Aid in London, and later on tour the core duo was backed by a ten-piece band, adding horns, keyboards, bass, vocals, and more guitars. Clearly, as heard on the live Home & Abroad, the band is tight and well-arranged, but there’s a little too much “hall” ambience, so everything’s slathered in echo.

While the quality of the compositions is a matter of personal taste, a few moments stand out. “Headstart For Happiness” is the more arranged album version, and “The Whole Point Of No Return” gets a fuller backing. “With Everything To Lose” sports nice harmonies with Dee C. Lee, who is off-pitch on other parts of the album. Mick Talbot gets his vocal spot on “Homebreakers”, followed by a more relaxed, shuffling, but still snappy take on “Shout To The Top” Two songs made their album debuts: the B-side “(When You) Call Me” is adult contemporary by rote, and if you bought the cassette or CD, the swaggering EP track “The Big Boss Groove” shows off the band. (Another instrumental showcase on “Our Favourite Shop” was the other extra track.)

This was the only live Style Council album for some time, but in the following decade—after Weller’s solo career had erased both bands from his sound—another collection appeared in the UK. In Concert was sparsely packaged, but sounded a lot better, like it was mixed from soundboard recordings. Most of the tracks were recorded in 1984 or 1985, with three coming from 1987, and all from shows in the UK as well as Australia, Japan, and Germany.

Right away there are some rarities, beginning with Curtis Mayfield’s “Meeting (Over) Up Yonder” and their own “Up For Grabs”, which never got a studio recording. George Clinton’s “One Nation Under A Groove” isn’t very convincing, but the Chairmen Of The Board’s “Hanging On To A Memory” is a little better, possibly because it’s more obscure. A few B-sides get airings for the faithful: the moody “Le Depart” is a showcase for piano and trumpet; “Spring, Summer, Autumn” is just as slow but is just piano and Paul; “It Just Came To Pieces In My Hands” was practically an acoustic demo, but here is accompanied by organ and harmonies. “My Ever Changing Moods” is the more subdued piano version, and “A Stone’s Throw Away” and “Down In The Seine” are just Paul and guitar. “Money Go Round” kicks off a medley that encompasses the B-side “Soul Deep” and the “Strength Of Your Nature”; unfortunately Dee still has pitch issues. The only nod to his earlier life is “Move On Up”, which of course was a Jam B-side and live workout towards the end of that band. All together, it’s a better listen than Home & Abroad.

The Style Council Home & Abroad (1986)—2½
The Style Council In Concert (1998)—3

Morrissey 9: My Early Burglary Years

We can’t think of anyone whose first nine albums included three collections of singles and B-sides, but that’s just one thing that makes Morrissey who he is. But My Early Burglary Years didn’t just collect leftovers since the last mop-up set. Tunes going back to the time of his first solo singles are scattered throughout the program, along with two tracks repeated from one album and—for some reason, possibly to irritate completists—two others that were already on another compilation. This was only released on CD, and of course, several B-sides still went uncollected.

“Sunny” was a little-heard standalone single dug out by one of his old labels; its B-sides are slotted in further on. “At Amber” is something of a postcard with an insistent riff that could be toned down a tad. The only real rarity is an acoustic live cover of T. Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer”, wherein our hero and the guitarist are all but drowned out by the rapturous audience. “Nobody Loves Us” is a terrific tune with an anthemic chorus, while “A Swallow On My Neck” has an orchestrated drone that overwhelms the mix. The original studio version of “Sister I’m A Poet” is finally rescued from obscurity, and then things turn a little weird. “Black-Eyed Susan” is a nice little strum, but for a two-minute interlude that sounds like it’s been lost in the back of a shopping mall that specializes in clock stores, and “Michael’s Bones” and “I’d Love To” are both spooky yet poignant-sounding, whatever they’re about.

“Reader Meet Author” from Southpaw Grammar gets things back on a rocking track, carried out by “Pashernate Love” and “Girl Most Likely To”, the latter of which brought some songwriting residuals to Smiths bassist Andy Rourke. “Jack The Ripper” is the live version from Beethoven Was Deaf, but fans already had it there on import or on World Of Morrissey. “I’ve Changed My Plea To Guilty” is a lovely little torch song with piano for a quieter side trip before the final stretch. “The Boy Racer” is also familiar from Southpaw Grammar, and while “Boxers” too was on World Of Morrissey, it’s nice to hear again.

My Early Burglary Years is very well sequenced, so it feels like an album, even with all the disparate collaborators. Most of these songs would easily have been welcome on any album proper, but he must have decided they didn’t fit with whatever thesis he was trying to push. It also capped a busy decade, as well as the century because, outside of 2001’s The Best Of Morrissey, which recycled singles and album tracks, in some cases for the third time, Morrissey wouldn’t put another album out for six years.

Morrissey My Early Burglary Years (1998)—3

Oasis 8: Don’t Believe The Truth

While Oasis managed to keep their guitar players on board, and let them write songs, by the time of Don’t Believe The Truth they were on their third drummer. Luckily for everyone involved, the new guy was Zak Starkey, who knows a thing or two about dynamics, which are key to a successful album.

After an almost twinkling intro that doesn’t sound like them, “Turn Up The Sun” crashes in with Liam Gallagher’s trademark snarl-whine, with Noel helping on the high harmonies. After a subdued guitar solo, it peters out. (This one was written by bassist Andy Bell, and it’s a keeper.) Noel sings lead on “Mucky Fingers”, which isn’t much more than a cop of the sound of the Velvet Underground’s “Waiting For The Man”, but that could have been easily fixed if they’d not bothered adding the piano. Then “Lyla” borrows its vocal line from “Street Fighting Man”, which is too bad since the rest of the song is more interesting, if too long at over five minutes. Liam and guitarist Gem Archer collaborated on “Love Like A Bomb”, a mostly harmless strum, then Noel channels his inner Ray Davies for the music but not the lyrics of “The Importance Of Being Idle”.

Liam shows the importance of brevity in “The Meaning Of Soul”, a furious strum that comes in under two minutes, then steps up his songwriting range on “Guess God Thinks I’m Abel”, though the significance of that spelling remains elusive, just as how it’s supposed to rhyme with “rainbow”. Noel furiously strums “Part Of The Queue” on his 12-string, with Zak ably keeping up around the kit. “Keep The Dream Alive” improves when it varies from the one melody note sung in the verses, and we’d say it’s a gem of a chorus, but Andy wrote it. Gem does, however, contribute the intertwined, dare we say raga-influenced guitars for a little more energy before the finale. Between the piano and Mellotron, “Let There Be Love” is the most unabashedly Beatlesque track, but the trading of vocals between the Gallaghers and the sentiment in the verses overcome the sentiment of the title.

For much of Don’t Believe The Truth—only their sixth studio album—it almost sounds like Oasis have matured. Certainly they’re not loud for the sake of being loud, and there’s an attempt to stretch. The overall mood is dark but not down. These are much more “studio” songs than onstage anthems.

Oasis Don’t Believe The Truth (2005)—3

Tom Verlaine 4: Cover

Somehow Tom Verlaine still had a record deal, so right on schedule he went back in the studio with his usual sidemen and recorded another album. Cover is right in line with his other solo albums, but can be easily told apart by the thick level of reverb all over it, and the use of a drum machine on about half. Amazingly, six different recording studios on two continents were required to put it together.

It’s always good to start with the single, even though the catchy “Five Miles Of You” only made it to 45 (and 12-inch) in the UK. We hear a little Echo & The Bunnymen in the vocals for the mildly funky “Travelling”, but Tom did it first. (We could’ve sworn we heard a David Byrne-style vocal elsewhere on the album, but damned if we can hear it now.) “O Foolish Heart” sports a tinny synth that overpowers the mix, burying the guitar solo. “Lindy-Lu” has lots of intertwining guitars for a pop song the Cars might have enjoyed, and the same goes for “Let Go The Mansion”, another one-man band track.

“Dissolve/Reveal” is a little more intricate in its programming, and oddly seems to foreshadow Brian Eno’s ‘90s pop work as well as the guitar sound Paul Simon used throughout Graceland. Bill Laswell is credited on bass for “Miss Emily”, another decent rocker, but good luck picking him out of the mix. “Rotation” is fairly robotic for a track with real bass and drums, but while it takes a while to get going—past the barking dog and recitation at the top—“Swim” is practically a modern doo-wop song without the harmonies, and kinda sweet.

With those very ‘80s resonances, one might think Cover would have attracted more buyers. It didn’t. But while he’s not very much of a guitar hero here, at least it can still be discovered. (A later rerelease on CD included the B-side “Your Finest Hour” and an extended mix of “Five Miles Of You” as bonus tracks.)

Tom Verlaine Cover (1984)—3

Aerosmith 5: Draw The Line

Aerosmith was on a roll as well as a winning streak, so they holed up in a converted convent and, by their own admission, spent as much time writing and recording music as they did doing heavier and heavier drugs. Any detriment was not immediately apparent on Draw The Line; even non-fans were impressed that they got the legendary Al Hirschfeld to do the cover art.

The title track sends us immediately on our way with layered guitars and the most basic of riffs for a terrific track. And from there, well. “I Wanna Know Why” sports some clever turns of phrase and chordal shifts, as well as tasty piano played by someone who wasn’t in the band. The same guy plays on “Critical Mass”, which seems to be descended somewhat from “Spaced” musically, and doesn’t make much sense even when you can figure out the lyrics. By now some sameness of sound has set in among the tracks, but “Get It Up” stands out because the title has “can’t” sung before it in the chorus—a rather bold statement for these randy rockers. “Bright Light Fright” is also mentioned in those lyrics, and is notable here for Joe Perry’s lead vocal.

We finally get something of a departure in “Kings And Queens”, with its medieval lyrics, mandolin, and banjo bringing them as close to prog-rock than they would ever dare venture again. Sure it’s kinda silly, but part of the charm is that they seem to take it seriously. (The keyboard-and-bass break towards the end always reminds us of Rush, and in a good way.) But “The Hand That Feeds” is back to mindless rock, and the repeated “doctor” screeches don’t help. “Sight For Sore Eyes” is a little better, with some of the old strut in place, but there’s a surprising writing credit for David Johansen, who would soon see his wife run off with Steven Tyler. It all ends with a rocking cover of “Milk Cow Blues”, which they probably learned from the Kinks.

While Draw The Line delivered another record (or tape) for fans to enjoy, it doesn’t scale any new heights. Ending the album with another blues cover, along with several songs co-written with producer Jack Douglas, suggests that they were running out of ideas.

Aerosmith Draw The Line (1977)—3

Todd Rundgren 36: Global and Runddans

Suddenly and seemingly prolific, Todd Rundgren found himself with another stack of songs recorded all by himself. Sticking with the one-word titles, Global presented another state-of-the-world address, with varying results. But if you’re hoping to hear guitars, you’re out of luck, as it’s entirely electronic, outside the vocals.

While “Evrybody” begins with an exhortation for listeners to clap their hands, it’s more a plea for unity of the human race than a mindless singalong. After a synth intro, “Flesh & Blood” is along the same theme, right down to the techno beat, with the phonetically correct lyrics printed in the booklet. “Rise” might as well have been one of his early ‘80s experiments, as it’s right in line with that sound, but without many lyrics. “Holyland” makes up the verbal deficit, with another grand intro, an unfortunate tribal chant, and an unexpected message in the chorus. “Blind” is a slow burner that skewers those who choose religion over science, with a solo by longtime sax man Bobby Strickland. While “Earth Mother” is intended to celebrate female pioneers, the performance borders on parody.

From its single bleating note throughout, “Global Nation” starts in the nightclub and stays there, Autotune and all. “Soothe” would be the album’s big ballad, and ripe for covering by anyone hoping for a hit. In “Terra Firma” he compares himself to Christopher Columbus and astronauts, but still turns it into something of a love song. “Fate” uses the gambling analogy to demonstrate how we’re screwing up the planet, while “Skyscraper” takes the ivory tower metaphor to castigate those who take their wealth for granted. (That doesn’t include estates on Hawaii, apparently. Also, Kasim Sulton is credited, presumably on vocals.) “This Island Earth” sums up the whole album in one song, albeit with fluctuating tempo, and makes one think he could have written just the one song instead of an album full. (The digital version of the album ends with “Technopolis”, something of a Japanese TV theme song, and the only place where a guitar is heard.)

Whether or not Global delivered, fans had another album to devour, provided they didn’t mind paying import prices. Runddans was a collaboration with a pair of Norwegian musicians who were born around the time of the first Utopia album, and indeed, the first several minutes sound like side two of Initiation. “Solus” is some wordless vocalizing over a ticking beat, then “Put Your Arms Around Me” becomes the first thing approaching a pop song, complete with guitar solo. (Another track is indexed and titled for another guitar solo.) Themes come and go, echoes of things like “The Spark Of Life” emerge, and the overall effect is that of a bunch of guys who really like playing in the studio doing exactly that. We even get to hear a phone conversation discussing the work in progress; that too is remixed and treated. Have at it.

Todd Rundgren Global (2015)—2½
Todd Rundgren/Emil Nikolaisen/Hans-Peter Lindstrøm Runddans (2015)—2

Kinks 35: To The Bone

Even if the Kinks had become something of an oldies act, their following was still fervent. So when they finished their most recent tour, they invited fans to their own Konk Studio for a special performance. A selection of songs were augmented by some recordings from larger venues for To The Bone, released in the UK on their own Konk label and an enjoyable live album.

Two years later, the album was expanded to the point where two CDs were required to hold it all. Even with that, “Waterloo Sunset” and “Autumn Almanac” from the original UK release were not included. The American release was on a label already devoted to legacy artists, and came partially thanks to the success of VH-1’s Storytellers show, which was inaugurated by Ray Davies and based on the format of his recent solo tour. (Indeed, an album of readings from his memoir and performances of pertinent songs would be released under his own name as The Storyteller.)

After the opening blast of “All Day And All Of The Night”, the program goes to the more stripped down approach, with acoustic guitars, occasional accordion, and only Dave Davies’ electric for bite. They’re clearly enjoying themselves, and so is the crowd, who can occasionally be heard singing along. Most of the songs come from the mid-‘60s through earliest ‘70s, though we do hear more recent hits like “Better Things”, “Don’t Forget To Dance”, and “Come Dancing”. “Do It Again” is started by Ray solo, and we’re given the impression that the band was late to the stage, which is why there’s a strange interlude before they come in. “Do You Remember Walter” is given a “Bavarian” treatment thanks to the accordion and slower tempo, but they wisely go back to album tempo for the last verse. The bulk of the second disc is from the larger shows, and are therefore a lot louder. “Give The People What They Want” and “Gallon Of Gas” are unnecessary, particularly in the absence of the aforementioned missing tracks.

They also took the opportunity of the expansion to include two pretty good new songs, both reflections of past relationships. “Animal” wistfully compares highs and lows over a familiar crunchy three-chord riff (with key changes well placed), and the title track is a unique take on the idea of records evoking memories of romance and vice versa. If they’re truly the band’s last songs, they’re a strong finish.

The Kinks To The Bone (1996)—3½

Roger McGuinn 5: Thunderbyrd

Given his higher profile from the Rolling Thunder Revue and the success of his Cardiff Rose album, one might think Roger McGuinn would build on that momentum. Well, he didn’t. He put together a touring band dubbed Thunderbyrd, named after the two most direct connotations of his brand. It was also the title of his next album, another mix of covers and cowrites with Jacques Levy.

While “All Night Long” has a gentle, dreamy opening, the chorus crashes in for a reach at arena rock—and sure enough, it’s a Peter Frampton cover, only a year after he Came Alive. “It’s Gone” has a little of that trademark Rickenbacker, but is drowned out by the mix, just as “Dixie Highway” is a fairly pedestrian driving song with the barest hook. As much as Tom Petty’s “American Girl” sounded like the Byrds to many people, Roger unfortunately takes the energy out of it, even at the same tempo, changing some of the words and blowing the phrasing. Tom Scott’s sax solo doesn’t do any favors either. “We Can Do It All Over Again” is a collaboration between white blues legend Barry Goldberg and the guy who wrote “Drift Away”, and a somewhat cloying plea to stand by this constantly working musician.

Continuing the journey through the history of American music, “Why Baby Why” is a cover of George Jones’ first hit single, with prominent steel guitar over a honky-tonk backing. “I’m Not Lonely Anymore” isn’t completely convincing, especially when he says he can “sing like a bird”, and the electric piano reminds you it was the late ‘70s. “Golden Loom” is the album’s token Dylan cover, this one a Desire outtake, dominated by Rick Vito’s bluesy harmonica and not very Dylanesque at all. But the song that nearly all that has gone before is the closing “Russian Hill”, a reverie on lost love, lost youth, lost everything, with its poetic lyrics given a sympathetic backing—or to put it another way, restraint. And unlike the bulk of the album, you can actually understand the words.

Thunderbyrd would benefit from more musical variety like that. Instead, it’s a grab bag of styles assaulted by a band trying to get attention in a loud bar. If you listen closely enough, you can almost hear the potential.

Roger McGuinn Thunderbyrd (1977)—2½

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