Van Morrison 1: Them

As a youth in Belfast, Van Morrison was obsessed with jazz and rhythm & blues, but by the time bands like his were getting noticed, record companies were looking to jump on the British Invasion bandwagon. So over the two years and two dozen players who passed through their ranks, Them were tasked with making hit singles out of their brand of British R&B—kinda like the Animals. Producer and songwriter Bert Berns came over from New York to cash in, sometimes using one Jimmy Page to bolster the studio sound.

Somehow the Van-penned B-side of “Baby Please Don’t Go” became a huge hit (and garage band staple) on both sides of the pond, and since America was all about hits, “Gloria” was emblazoned on the cover and among three single sides added to the distillation of the excellently titled British album The Angry Young Them. It was placed at the end of side one, which began with Berns’ “Here Comes The Night”, another hit with a distinct Sam Cooke influence in the vocal. Berns also foisted “Go On Home Baby”, which features rare harmonies from another band member, on them. John Lee Hooker’s “Don’t Look Back” is a cool ballad with tasty piano, and the prominent organ of “I’m Gonna Dress In Black” makes it very much an Animals soundalike. “(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66” had already been claimed—and nailed—by the Stones.

Of Van’s own songs, “Mystic Eyes” is the standout, basically a two-chord jam with a seemingly extemporaneous recital that’s a forerunner to his later, longer ruminations. (“Little Girl” isn’t as successful, and “One Two Brown Eyes” is more notable for its slide guitar effects.) “One More Time” and “If You And I Could Be As Two” are attempts at seduction, stuck between belting and speaking, and “I Like It Like That” mostly meanders.

Less than a year later, Them Again shaved the British version down to twelve tracks, still split between Van originals and covers. Of these, their moody take on Dylan’s “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” is the clear winner. Chris Kenner’s “Something You Got” has a sax solo that might be Van, and these days it’s interesting to hear “Turn On Your Love Light” and consider that Them’s version could be what inspired the Dead to do it. “I Can Only Give You Everything” is a trashy variation on the usual garage riff, and “Out Of Sight” is the closest they got to being James Brown. Tommy Scott was now their producer, so four of his songs made the album. “Call My Name” and “How Long Baby” are rather ordinary, but “I Can Only Give You Everything” has a cool snotty riff, and the flute and piano on “Don’t You Know” predict “Moondance”.

Van himself was limited to four songwriting credits. “Could You, Would You” with its powerful drum fills opened the album, and the double acoustic guitar on “My Lonely Sad Eyes” almost makes it folk-rock. “Bad Or Good” is nice and soulful, just as “Bring ‘Em On In” is defiant.

Management issues and general disinterest led to the band splitting into factions on tour, and ultimately Van went off to be a solo artist of merit, which meant that various repackages of Them material popped up throughout the ‘70s. The first, 1972’s Them… Featuring Van Morrison, excerpted ten songs from each of the American albums but in reverse order, with dense liner notes by Lester Bangs in phone book-size type across the inner gatefold. Two years later, Backtrackin’ helpfully offered up ten tracks that weren’t on either of the American albums, including such singles as “Baby Please Don’t Go” and their cover of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Richard Cory”, as well as “Hey Girl” (another flute-laden precursor to “Cyprus Avenue”) and the previously unreleased “Mighty Like A Rose”. Three years after that, The Story Of Them offered nine more of the same, mostly blues covers but also the rare title track, a rambling memoir in changing keys originally split over two sides of a single but here continuous, the early EP track “Philosophy”, and the lovely late single “Friday’s Child”.

Eventually, The Best Of Van Morrison included “Gloria”, “Baby Please Don’t Go”, and “Here Comes The Night”; Volume Two offered “Don’t Look Back” and “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” amidst songs from the ‘80s simply because Polydor still had the rights to them. Another attempt to tell The Story Of Them Featuring Van Morrison on two CDs had to navigate mono mixes and stereo remixes, and still seemed to be somewhat random in its sequencing. It wasn’t until the band’s 50th anniversary (and Van’s partnership with Sony Legacy) that The Complete Them 1964-1967 presented a full chronological overview, with all of the singles and album tracks in context on two discs, and a third devoted to previously unreleased demos and select alternate takes and BBC sessions. Van even wrote the liner notes. Getting to hear the singles in release order doesn’t take away the haphazard construction of the albums, even in the British sequences, but we do hear his voice and songwriting improve.

Them Them (1965)—3
Them Them Again (1966)—3
Them Backtrackin’ (1974)—2½
Them The Story Of Them (1977)—2½
Them The Complete Them 1964-1967 (2015)—3

Lou Reed 33: I’m So Free and Words & Music

Neither the labels nor the estate of Lou Reed immediately plundered their vaults for saleable archival material; rather, both waited several years. When “new” music did arrive, there was a similar theme, although different periods in the man’s development as a songwriter were addressed.

I’m So Free: The 1971 RCA Demos was one of those fifty-year copyright dumps that collectors trawl the file-sharing sites for every December, but then RCA put it out as a Record Store Day exclusive with an eye-catching cover and liner notes, and eventually for streaming with four more songs. These are basic acoustic guitar and vocal run-throughs, recorded professionally, of songs that would be considered for his first solo album. Every song that would appear there is auditioned here, including the leftovers from the last days of the Velvet Underground. We also get previews of later album cuts, including “Perfect Day”, “New York Telephone Conversation”, “Kill Your Sons” (with war-protest lyrics), and “She’s My Best Friend”, as well as a charming “I’m Sticking With You”. Throughout he’s immersed in each performance, laughing at any lyrical flubs, and instructing the engineer where the breaks are and when to fade.

This snapshot of the artist stepping out is particularly interesting when compared to the album that followed soon afterwards. As the first release in the projected Lou Reed Archive Series, Words & Music, May 1965 presented the contents of a demo tape he recorded then mailed himself to preserve its authenticity. Dating from before the recordings heard in the Peel Slowly And See box, he’s still firmly in the thrall of Bob Dylan, from the delivery to the fingerpicking, even on songs we’d get to know via the Velvets. John Cale helps out on several songs, including the immortal “Buttercup Song”, which was teased for decades as “Never Get Emotionally Involved With A Man, Woman, Beast Or Child”, and takes the lead vocal on “Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams”, which features that same maddening single beat on a sarinda as on the box. “Men Of Good Fortune” would be a title he’d use eventually, but not with these words, sung from the point of few of a fair maiden. The other “new” songs are of varying interest, though “Stockpile” has rocking promise. And the early version of “Pale Blue Eyes” is lovely. (As a bonus for some editions of the album, six cuts go even further back, as for as 1958 for his own doo-wop composition “Gee Whiz”, then up to 1963 or 1964 for two Dylan covers—an instrumental “Baby Let Me Follow You Down” and “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” with new words, both with harmonica—plus a run through “Michael, Row The Boat Ashore” and two nondescript blues.)

Together these albums are certainly essential for collectors. For the rest of the world, they actually show a kinder, gentler Lou who just wanted to write catchy songs, rather than the grouch determined to shock and upset.

Lou Reed I’m So Free: The 1971 RCA Demos (2022)—3
Lou Reed Words & Music, May 1965 (2022)—3

Zombies 1: The Zombies

The so-called British Invasion following the Beatles brought a deluge of pop combos to American airwaves, and given the precedent of the Fab Four, wacky names abounded. The Zombies, however, were neither a Merseybeat group nor an R&B outfit trying to grab the brass ring while clad in matching suits and sporting moptop haircuts. For one, the band was driven not by guitars but largely by main songwriter Rod Argent’s electric piano. Colin Blunstone had a predominantly breathy voice that could leap into a shriek on command. Harmonies abounded.

True to the American tradition of chopping up British LPs and leaning on the hits, The Zombies cherrypicked from their native debut Begin Here, adding a few leftovers from B-sides and EPs, and gave key attention to the two smash hits written by Argent. “She’s Not There” came first, and takes the opening spot on side one. Despite its sophisticated arrangement, in each chorus there’s a wonderfully audible gasp of an inhale that most producers would have been quick to fix. “Tell Her No” wasn’t as big, but its use of Bacharach-style major-seventh chords have vaulted it as a major classic, and one of the gems of the era. Beyond those, “It’s Alright With Me” begins as a generic dance number with a riff and ascending chords, but throws a curve ball at the end of the second verse by slowing down the tempo, then diving into a top-speed piano solo. Similarly, “Sometimes” begins one way, then chugs along over a Vox organ for aural variety. “Woman” lets guitarist Paul Atkinson play the riff.

Argent wasn’t the only band member holding his head up (yeah, we went there) in the songwriting department. Bassist Chris White offered up the musically intricate “I Don’t Want To Know” and the tongue-tripping “What More Can I Do”. “Work ‘n’ Play” is an instrumental credited to their producer, and throws in a few unexpected changes under the harmonica.

Everybody covered Motown in those days, but their take on “You Really Got A Hold On Me” gets a twist by getting attached to Sam Cooke’s “Bring It On Home To Me” in a medley. “Can’t Nobody Love You” was borrowed from Solomon Burke, and the Gershwins’ “Summertime” is taken as a waltz showing off their chops. That’s not to say they couldn’t hold their own in a club, as demonstrated by their stomp through “I Got My Mojo Working”, led by Hugh Grundy demolishing the drums.

Even two-hit wonders had trouble keeping momentum in the face of shifting PR strategies, so it was years before more of the band’s work was properly heard in context. The comprehensive Zombie Heaven box set collects all the songs here as well as on singles, EPs, plus of course the British album, showing off what the band actually could offer if only anyone had heard them. They did put their all into a grand hurrah of sorts, and we’ll discuss that in due time.

The Zombies The Zombies (1965)—3

Kinks 4: Kinkdom

Once again, the Kinks’ American record company saw fit to cobble another album together from heretofore uncollected tracks, and spent about five minutes deciding on a title. Kinkdom was built upon the British Kwyet Kinks EP (now there’s a great title for you), adding the one leftover from the British Kinda Kinks LP, five more singles and B-sides, and for some reason, repeating “Louie Louie” from Kinks-Size.

Considering that their singles were increasingly improving, the album is comparatively strong. “A Well Respected Man” is notable for being the first Ray Davies song that addressed society and class, changing his voice as required, giving him a template to fill out for years to come. “See My Friends” was especially daring for the time, with a raga influence months ahead of “Norwegian Wood” and a lyric lamenting death disguised as love lost. “Who’ll Be The Next In Line” was one of the times Reprise got it right, making this British B-side the A-side here. A masterpiece of sloppy chord blocking, “I Need You” leaves the Stones as the only major British Invasion band that didn’t release a song of that title.

They’d already recorded and released several songs that sounded like each other, but “Never Met A Girl Like You Before” blatantly begins with a quote from “Tired Of Waiting For You” before turning into a simple dance number complete with a dotty toy piano instrumental section. (While we’re at it, “Such A Shame” sports accents played better on “Set Me Free”.) “Wait Till The Summer Comes Along” is a cool strum for Dave to sing, and he does well, while “Naggin’ Woman” shows him to be one of the least convincing bluesmen ever to play the Crawdaddy Club. “Don't You Fret” shows longing for home and hearth before and after a single-chord jam, showing their skill in the studio—in hindsight, interesting to compare to the simplicity of “It's Alright”, the B-side of “You Really Got Me” included here.

For all of its flaws, Kinkdom put some of the Kinks’ newer, better songs in one place, more or less catching up both sides of the pond. Going forward, all their albums would be identical, a level neither the Beatles, Stones nor Who would achieve for some time.

The Kinks Kinkdom (1965)—3
Current CD equivalent: Kinks and Kinda Kinks

Kinks 3: Kinda Kinks

The third American Kinks album shared the title of the second British album, the same general photo, and nine of its tracks (of the remainder, two had already been on Kinks-Size and one would be held over), plus two recent singles bridging the sides.

Kinda Kinks is all Ray’s writing, with one obvious exception. “Look For Me Baby” is a clunky tune with Ray’s wife on prominent backing vocals, and Dave sings the countrified “Got My Feet On The Ground”, which he helped write. Both are harmless, but a real surprise is “Nothin’ In The World Can Stop Me Worryin’ ‘Bout That Girl”, a muted 16-bar blues following the same simple riff (later used quite effectively in Rushmore). Ray sings this one quite well, and hands “Wonder Where My Baby Is” over to Dave, who could relate to the lyrics, while he tackled the basic piano part. “Set Me Free” begins with that same chordal attack familiar from “You Really Got Me” and “All Day And All Of The Night”, complete with drums that sound like biscuit tins. But dig in some more and you’ll notice the subtle downward slope of the backing and a killer bridge. Near perfection in under two minutes and ten.

“Ev’rybody’s Gonna Be Happy” was a British A-side but an American B-side, repetitive but danceable. Everybody in London loved Motown, and the band’s take on “Dancing In The Street” isn’t any worse than any others that don’t have a horn section. “Don’t Ever Change” is another mild rewrite of “Stop Your Sobbing”, crossed with “Under The Boardwalk”, with a Spanish guitar adding Latin accents. That instrument is prominent on “So Long”, another deceptively simple-sounding song. The crunch returns, somewhat, on “You Shouldn’t Be Sad”, which balances a call-and-response vocal arrangement with some unexpected modulations. “Something Better Beginning” is an excellent rewrite of “Save The Last Dance For Me”, both lyrically and musically.

On top of everything else, Kinda Kinks shows how Ray Davies was developing as a writer before our very ears, and the band gamely kept up with him. It’s also the first Kinks album that can be truly recommended. Rhino’s CD followed the British listing, ignoring the American editions, but today’s deluxe version includes includes the songs from both sequences, and then some.

The Kinks Kinda Kinks (1965)—3
Current CD equivalent: Kinda Kinks

Kinks 2: Kinks-Size

This early on, the Kinks were more reliable on singles than albums. That was fine for their American record company, which followed in the practice of releasing more but shorter albums. Kinks-Size got its title from a British EP, included in full here, along with two of the leftover tracks from the first British LP and both sides of their last two singles.

Those singles included “All Day And All Of The Night” (an excellent rewrite of “You Really Got Me”) and the more sophisticated “Tired Of Waiting For You”, which tempers the chunky rhythm with excellent dynamics for the bridges. Together they form the backbone of an LP that dips and rises.

The first dip is “Louie Louie”—yes, that “Louie Louie”—taken at a slightly sluggish pace and not offering anything not on the Kingsmen version. “I’ve Got That Feeling” deserves better lyrics (and vocal) than its piano-driven backing track. “Revenge” is a brief instrumental that’s out of the way before “I Gotta Move”, a B-side with heavy use of 12-string acoustic. “Things Are Getting Better” is a hopeful title for another Bo Diddley pastiche, while “I Gotta Go Now” sports nice echo on the vocal, despite spending too much time making the point of the song clear. Dave’s lead vocal is restricted to “I’m A Lover Not A Fighter” and “Come On Now”, his voice that much better on the latter, which also includes Ray’s wife singing backup over an infectious riff.

The Kinks weren’t quite there yet, but they can’t be blamed for this one. Two decades later, Rhino acknowledged the hodgepodge origin of Kinks-Size by swapping some stray tracks for the LP, and adding some others from another American-only set for the CD, which took care of most of the balance of the tracks not on the first two British albums proper. Today they’re all included on the expanded versions of those.

The Kinks Kinks-Size (1965)—2½
Current CD equivalent: Kinks and Kinda Kinks

Yardbirds 2: Having A Rave-Up

After scoring a hit single on both sides of the pond, the Yardbirds’ manager made sure they kept the hits coming in between gigs. Single after single were released in the UK, while America demanded albums, and that’s how Having A Rave-Up With The Yardbirds! happened.

Side one of the album offers a smattering of those singles, although the first track made its debut here. The mildly socially conscious “You’re A Better Man Than I”, written by Manfred Mann’s drummer, sports good dynamics and a exploratory Jeff Beck solo over one chord. “Evil Hearted You” and “Heart Full Of Soul” were both written by Graham Gouldman, who was responsible for “For Your Love”; the former has a mild James Bond theme feel, while the latter sports a very Indian-flavored riff. Bo Diddley’s “I’m A Man” had already been covered by everybody in London, but it’s the Yardbirds’ version that stands above, with their patented rave-up approach (which would be copped by the Count Five for “Psychotic Reaction”). The rhythm section gets credit for writing “Still I’m Sad”, which betrays the brief flirtation many British groups of the time played with Gregorian chant. “Train Kept A-Rollin’” is a trash classic, from Beck’s locomotive imitation to Keith Relf’s inexplicably double-tracked, mismatched vocals. This recording is responsible for Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith, so take that as you will.

While the packaging said nothing about it, the entirety of side two was excerpted from the previous year’s Five Live Yardbirds, which was the band’s only British LP release so far, and which still featured Eric Clapton on lead guitar. This was the stuff Clapton thrived on: Howlin’ Wolf’s “Smokestack Lightning”, the Isley Brothers’ “Respectable”, Bo Diddley’s “Here ‘Tis”, and another blast through “I’m A Man”. And considering it was recorded at London’s legendary Marquee Club, the sound is very good.

Even though it wasn’t clear how or why the album was put together, Having A Rave-Up remains a solid listen. The singles are all solid, and somebody did us a favor by allowing the comparatively lengthy songs on side two, averaging five minutes each, to show the strength of the band, even if it did give short shrift to Clapton in the process. The album has had a confusing life in the digital era, but at the same time Five Live Yardbirds has remained available—starting with an official U.S. release on Rhino in 1988—which is a blessing.

The Yardbirds Having A Rave-Up With The Yardbirds! (1965)—3½

Yardbirds 1: For Your Love

As with most of the British blues boom bands, balancing integrity with teenybopper appeal, the Yardbirds catalog is a mess. At one time or another one could find all their “classic” songs on one collection or another, but often they’re mixed with multiple takes of various blues covers. Their main consistency through all the changes was singer Keith Relf, he of the bleach-blonde bowl cut and surprisingly nasal voice. He’s the one singing on the hits, no matter which of the legendary guitarists—Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page, and of course, Top Topham—who passed through the organization is playing. Chances are, if it gets airplay today, Beck is playing lead. (The drummer is always Jim McCarty, but good luck picking him out.)

Their first American LP had no British equivalent, and by the time it came out, Clapton had already left, replaced by Jeff Beck. He appears on the cover of For Your Love, despite only playing on three of the songs, and depicted in front of a piano, which he did not play. The album was put together by their manager, Giorgio Gomelsky, to capitalize on the eponymous hit single that was Clapton’s last straw. Having already missed out on the money the Rolling Stones were making, Gomelsky was determined to make the most of the Yardbirds.

That single was dominated by a harpsichord and bongos also not played by any official band member, with guitar only appearing on the bluesy middle section. Since the band hadn’t started writing their own material yet, the rest of the album is dominated by blues and jazz covers, most already released on British singles. Some of these are definitive, like Mose Allison’s “I’m Not Talkin’” (which has a lot of Beck bending), Billy Boy Arnold’s “I Wish You Would” and “I Ain’t Got You”, and the venerable “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl”. Even “A Certain Girl” has charm in its call-and-response vocals.

They aren’t all winners. “Putty (In Your Hands)” was first recorded by the Shirelles, and probably appealed because of its “Money”-style riff. Clapton dominates the Chess-influenced “Got To Hurry” instrumental, which putters to a halt. “I Ain’t Done Wrong” is another studio jam on old tropes mostly notable for Beck’s wah pedal and heavy chording. “Sweet Music” stands out, partially because it’s a botched attempt to croon, and mostly because the overall sound is different, having been produced by contemporary scene fixture Manfred Mann. And “My Girl Sloopy” has been done better by lots of other people.

Still, as albums go, For Your Love delivers a lot of what made the Yardbirds popular over here, with enough of the blues sound to keep purists happy. It’s been out of print in the States for a long time, but overseas labels have reissued it multiple times, with and without bonus tracks. Something else to remember—most of the band’s early stuff was recorded quickly and cheaply, and therefore sounds awful today. The goofy liner notes must also be read to be appreciated.

The Yardbirds For Your Love (1965)—3

Beach Boys 11: Party!

Just as the Beatles were beginning to take more time with their albums, so was Brian Wilson. In need of a stopgap while he labored over the band’s next real album, Beach Boys’ Party! was hurriedly recorded and released in time for Christmas. (It also extended the trend of the exclamation point to three consecutive albums.)

The concept was simple: the Beach Boys hanging out with their friends and girlfriends slash wives, drinking pop and eating potato chips, strumming their guitars for a low-key singalong. Percussion comes from a set of bongos, a tambourine, and whoever wants to clap along (plus, according to the liner notes, Al Jardine on ashtray). A few years earlier, this would be called a hootenanny; a generation later, MTV would make a mint on the idea, save the pop and chips.

Save two tracks, the songs on Party! aren’t busked renditions of their greatest hits, but lean toward songs that they loved as teenagers—or would love if they still were teenagers. That’s how “Hully Gully” is followed by joyfully reverent takes of labelmates the Beatles’ “I Should Have Known Better” and “Tell Me Why”. “Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow” is the first nod to their own catalog, having already been on the previous year’s live album, while “Mountain Of Love” was obviously a favorite, as Brian Wilson would lift the bridge for his own “Little Children” two decades later. Dennis does his best on another Beatles song, “You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away”, while the rest of the party giggles. Some of the chatter between songs is a little cringey in retrospect, with Brian and Mike Love taking different tacks on crowd control, but they come together nicely on “Devoted To You”.

“Alley Oop” picks up the pace, and while it’s slower, the gang harmonies on the Crystals’ “There’s No Other (Like My Baby)” keep it going. That’s the cue for Mike to goof on “I Get Around” and “Little Deuce Coupe”, which is a dangerous setup for Al’s appropriately nasal “The Times They Are A-Changin’”, which prompts all kinds of jeering from the gang. The best is truly saved for last, as “Barbara Ann”, led by (Jan &) Dean Torrence, would become one of their biggest hits. (In fact, it was rushed out as a single in the wake of the failure of “The Little Girl I Once Knew”.) The album version goes on another minute, with false endings and further wackiness.

Beach Boys’ Party! does perpetuate the myth of sun and fun that was present from their first singles and albums, complete with lots of photos of the boys and their girls. Surely more than one record-buyer wished he or she was invited to the party itself, rather than looking in from the outside.

Nothing is what it seems, of course, and history has shown that despite the final presentation, each of the Party tracks was recorded and mixed first, with the chatter and whatnot added in during final mastering. For the album’s fiftieth anniversary, after the band’s curators had begun various archeological restorations of the band’s oeuvre, Beach Boys’ Party!: Uncovered And Unplugged presented the songs on the album without the extra party effects, alongside excerpts of other songs and chatter attempted at the album’s sessions, filling up two CDs.

Despite coming from four of five different recording dates, the “uncovered” mix of the album still sounds as fun as the final product, like they actually were enjoying themselves, with minimal ribbing but still lots of goofing around. The sessions give a glimpse of the other dozen songs attempted in the process, including two further Bob Dylan songs, the Beatles’ “Ticket To Ride”, the Stones’ “Satisfaction”, Sonny Bono’s “Laugh At Me” (with parodic lyrics by Mike), several Lieber-Stoller tunes (including several attempts at “Ruby Baby”), “Twist And Shout”, “Long Tall Sally”, and “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’”. “Riot In Cell Block #9” predicts a song on a future album, and it’s somewhat fitting to see that the project did indeed conclude with “Barbara Ann”.

Footnote: The album was not ignored in the 1990 two-fer rollout of the Beach Boys catalog. Since it was such an anomaly to begin with, the caretakers chose to pair it with 1969’s oddball Stack-O-Tracks, which presented 15 Beach Boys classics in classic duophonic sound (upgraded to true stereo for the CD) but no vocals, giving the budding Beach Boy or Girl the chance to sing along thanks to the included lyrics and chords booklet (which was not included with the CD). Until the 1993 box set, archival reissues of Pet Sounds, and The Smile Sessions, this was the only way to hear those intricate backing tracks. The upgrade even included three bonus instrumental mixes.

The Beach Boys Beach Boys’ Party! (1965)—3
1990 CD reissue: same as 1965, plus Stack-O-Tracks album and 3 extra tracks
2015 Uncovered And Unplugged: “same” as 1965, plus 69 extra tracks

Beach Boys 10: Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!)

Despite the leaps and bounds taken on their last album, the Beach Boys were still obligated to make hit records. Therefore Brian, as the band’s architect, had to gradually introduce his new production ideas while the other Beach Boys spread the gospel of the California dream to arenas full of screaming kids.

Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!) arrived on schedule with optimistic packaging belying some of the content. And again, Brian’s progression as a record-maker isn’t immediately obvious, since they take a step back with a side full of pop.

Despite its charms, “Girl From New York City” is a blatant ripoff of “Boy From New York City”. “Amusement Parks U.S.A.” is a rewrite of “County Fair” from the first album and exactly the type of song they should have left behind by now, particularly the spoken sections. “Then I Kissed Her” is a straight cover of the Ronettes song, albeit with a gender switch, yet stays pretty close to the original. “Salt Lake City” is musically interesting, but is basically pandering to the fans in that town. Teenage Carl takes the lead on “Girl Don’t Tell Me”, a song that sounds a little unfinished, but that’s probably because it didn’t use any session guys. The single rerecording of “Help Me Rhonda” uses a different spelling and a tighter arrangement with no fades.

As with Today!, the best is saved for side two. The stately opening of “California Girls” is practically symphonic, and no amount of David Lee Roth can destroy the perfection of this production. It’s an even bigger leap with “Let Him Run Wild”, which pits a fairly ordinary plotline against a truly masterful backing of minor-sevenths and diminished chords, predicting the craftsmanship of Brian’s next real project. “You’re So Good To Me” lifts the mood and the beat with another song that could have been made for Ronnie Spector. “Summer Means New Love” offers a romantic instrumental, a surf guitar playing the melody, but then “I’m Bugged At My Ol’ Man” provides a joke in the form of a novelty song that should have been left for a B-side. The last word goes to the lovely a cappella “And Your Dream Comes True” for a happy ending.

The pairing of Summer Days with Today! made an excellent two-fer, even if it underscored some of the less successful tendencies. (After all, they were just kids.) Still, the best aspects of both albums emerge to prove why they’ve remained so fresh. One key bonus track is “The Little Girl I Once Knew”, a majestic flop that showed that not only was radio not ready for such elaborate production, but neither was Brian.

The Beach Boys Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!) (1965)—3½
1990 CD reissue: same as 1965, plus The Beach Boys Today! album and 5 extra tracks

Beach Boys 9: Today!

For the first three years of their career, the Beach Boys were on a punishing schedule (typical of the time) requiring lots of time in the studio in between live performances. This period saw the release of a whopping eight albums—the first three explicitly referenced surfing, followed by two about cars—including a live album and even a Christmas album, half of which consisted of original Brian Wilson compositions.

Despite suffering a nervous breakdown, whereupon he would retire from the road, the time spent in the studio crafting all that music only gave Brian a desire to concentrate on only that, working with the best session rats in the best studios, with minimal label interference. (They were happy to oblige, seeing as the Beach Boys were about as lucrative as the Beatles in those days.)

It was their ninth(!) LP that can truly be said to be the first real Beach Boys album, as opposed to a collection of singles. While there’s enough of a “fun ‘n sun” influence, overall the songs on The Beach Boys Today! begin to explore the more mature subjects that would set Brian apart from his contemporaries.

That doesn’t happen right away, beginning as it does with Dennis singing “Do You Wanna Dance”. The production is slightly Spectorized, and it’s infectious. Equally excellent is “Good To My Baby”, with nicely traded lines and a doo-wop tag. “Don’t Hurt My Little Sister” sports a repeated 12-string riff, with a slightly anemic threat coming from a family of brothers. “When I Grow Up (To Be A Man)” takes a big leap, based as it is around a prominent harpsichord. The lyrical content only points out how young these guys were (Mike Love’s hairline notwithstanding). Al Jardine shows how well his voice fits in, despite not sharing any genetics, with “Help Me, Ronda”, which you’ll note is spelled differently than the single. This earlier version is a little longer, with some odd fade effects, and would be the one included on Endless Summer. “Dance, Dance, Dance” ends a very energetic side with some intricate changes amid otherwise ordinary subject matter.

Things get more intimate on side two; the songs are a little slower, and just a little sadder. “Please Let Me Wonder” is something of a musical sequel to “Don’t Worry Baby”, but infused with regret. “I’m So Young” is another cover of a fifties harmony hit, improved upon with their own “Kiss Me, Baby”. “She Knows Me Too Well” sports Brian’s soaring falsetto over the Boys’ excellent support. Perhaps Brian wasn’t ready to lay his soul so bare, so Dennis the heartthrob emotes his way through “In The Back Of My Mind”; there’s a little too much syrup in the arrangement. The pathos is ruined by “Bull Session With The ‘Big Daddy’”, wherein a local DJ attempts to interview the guys while they’re eating burgers, for the sole purpose of filling space at the end of the side.

The album was a highlight of Capitol’s excellent 1990 “two-fer” reissue program, which paired up consecutive Beach Boys albums (all running less than 30 minutes) with appropriate bonus tracks and exhaustive liner notes. A change of regime at the label a few years later resulted in the deletion of those two-fers in favor of the albums reissued individually without any extras at all. A subsequent corporate reshuffling copped to the idiotic decision, and the two-fers were put into circulation again. Of course, we should be grateful that this album is still available at all, and its splendor can be easily obtained for optimal context.

The Beach Boys The Beach Boys Today! (1965)—3½
1990 CD reissue: same as 1965, plus Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!) album and 5 extra tracks

Paul Simon 1: The Paul Simon Songbook

This album was always a curio, recorded completely solo in London between the first two Simon & Garfunkel albums, released only in England, and unavailable for the better part of thirty years on the directive of the artiste. He eventually got over it, and now we can wonder what the problem was. After all, hasn’t Paul Simon spent most of his career downplaying his partner’s superior voice and its importance to his songs?

Besides providing alternate versions of what would become several established Simon & Garfunkel favorites, The Paul Simon Songbook presents what was likely his repertoire whilst pounding the cobblestoned streets of London. Two songs had already appeared on the duo’s debut, five would be re-recorded for their second album, and four others would appear in some form on their third. For the pop music student, these are fascinating unplugged demos, and even works in progress.

The actual performances aside, it’s the truly rare material that makes this album so enticing. “A Church Is Burning” is an original protest song, and a good one, not to be confused with “The Sun Is Burning” on the S&G debut. They would perform it in occasional concerts, but for many years this was the only recording ever. “The Side Of A Hill” is mostly unknown, except that several lines would be reworked and used as a counterpoint to the main melody of “Scarborough Fair”. Similarly, “A Simple Desultory Philippic” here substitutes Lyndon Johnson for Robert McNamara in the spoken intro, and sports a markedly different accompaniment, mostly based on “Wake Up Little Susie” with a little “It’s Alright Ma” thrown in. The bridge still apes Dylan, but most of the people throughout the song would be replaced by other, dare we say better, and certainly more recognizable references.

It’s tempting to give The Paul Simon Songbook a higher rating, but only for the novelty of it. Each of the songs are arguably better in their more familiar, arranged incarnations; now that it’s universally available, even in the US of A, complete with two alternate takes, listeners can judge for themselves.

Paul Simon The Paul Simon Songbook (1965)—3½
2004 CD reissue: same as 1965, plus 2 extra tracks

Byrds 2: Turn! Turn! Turn!

Back when bands used to put out two albums a year—the luxury! Can you imagine?—it wasn’t common for said bands to screw with the formula too much. That’s how the Byrds’ second album gave the kids what they wanted: 12-string guitars, pristine harmonies and a couple of Dylan covers.

But they were smart guys, so Turn! Turn! Turn! wasn’t a complete retread of their debut. It helped that the title track was a huge hit, borrowed from a Pete Seeger arrangement of some Bible verses. “It Won’t Be Wrong” was left over from their earliest days trying to get a record deal, but “Set You Free This Time” stands out with Gene Clark’s rugged yet right lament on lost love. Listen for his mournful harmonica on the fade. It’s to the band’s credit that they managed to cover a previously unheard Bob Dylan song, the majestic ode to music of “Lay Down Your Weary Tune”. The boys do a nice job finding harmonies for it, and somebody thought it was a good idea to bring Chris Hillman’s bass all the way up in the mix. Another stretch comes with the updated adaptation of the old folk song “He Was A Friend Of Mine”, which directly references the Kennedy assassination.

Another Gene Clark classic starts off side two in “The World Turns All Around Her”, framed by all those interlocking 12-strings. There’s a detour into a cover of another folk chestnut, “Satisfied Mind”, before we go back way left field for “If You’re Gone”. This song is, yes, another masterpiece by Gene Clark, a sad goodbye over unresolved harmonies that add an other-worldly air to the Eastern-sounding guitar. Unfortunately the effect is killed by a rather tepid run through “The Times They Are A-Changin’”, and “Wait And See”, the first David Crosby song credit on a Byrds album, is just okay. In keeping with tradition, they end with a gag: this time it’s a folk-rock rendition of “Oh! Susannah”.

Turn! Turn! Turn! is still a good album, and shows off their progress as a tight band, but it still amounts to some water-treading. What was missing is apparent on the upgraded CD. First, there’s “The Day Walk”, occasionally subtitled “Never Before”, an incredible song surpassed in its untimely sophistication by the wondrous “She Don’t Care About Time”, which had been relegated to a B-side. It should come as no surprise by now that both of these songs were written by Gene Clark, whose quality of work was obviously starting to intimidate the more headstrong full-time guitar players in the band. It’s a matter of taste whether McGuinn’s Bach-flavored solo on the latter song was a good idea or just him trying to steal some limelight. A different arrangement of “The Times They Are A-Changin’”, an unreleased take of Dylan’s “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue”, a couple of alternate takes and a song that never got vocals, “Stranger In A Strange Land”, round out the bonuses, bringing up the disc’s value greatly.

The Byrds Turn! Turn! Turn! (1965)—3
1996 CD reissue: same as 1965, plus 7 extra tracks

Byrds 1: Mr. Tambourine Man

In hindsight, it was highly improbable that the Byrds would have left such an indelible stamp on rock history. They were basically a bunch of folkies who, after seeing A Hard Day’s Night, realized they could make more money by emulating the sounds of the British Invasion. Jim McGuinn (as he was then known) took a shine to the 12-string Rickenbacker he saw George Harrison playing in the movie, so that was different. David Crosby got himself a 12-string too, but chose to concentrate on rhythm and high harmonies. Gene Clark wrote a bunch of songs but was relegated to tambourine onstage. Chris Hillman, previously a mandolinist, learned the bass quickly enough, and Michael Clarke’s haircut got him in the band as long as he learned his way around a drumkit.

Another marketing angle that would have backfired on anyone else was their access and interpretation of Bob Dylan’s songs. While the Byrds weren’t explicitly responsible for his going electric, their amplified renditions certainly proved that his appeal went far beyond the coffeehouse. As a result, folk-rock was invented.

In addition to the title track—which artfully chopped the song down from its four verses into a simple, catchy chorus-verse-chorus format—Mr. Tambourine Man offers three other Dylan classics previously known in their acoustic renditions on Another Side Of Bob Dylan. “Chimes Of Freedom”, “All I Really Want To Do” and “Spanish Harlem Incident” each gain a little something from the blend of electricity and harmonies.

To prove they were more than a jukebox, half of the album was devoted to the boy-meets-girl-loses-girl songs written by Gene Clark. The most famous is still probably “I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better”, noticeable from its opening suspended-A strum and its carbon-copy cover by Tom Petty. That said, “Here Without You”, “It’s No Use” and the others prove that he (and the band) were capable of creating commercial pop. Another nod to their folk routes came in their stellar arrangement of Pete Seeger’s “The Bells Of Rhymney”, which itself foreshadowed a later hit. And for another strike for the counterculture, the set closes with a cover of Vera Lynn’s “We’ll Meet Again”, riding the irony of its status as a wartime lament.

If there’s a clunker on the album, it’s “Don’t Doubt Yourself, Babe”, which they didn’t write but cheerfully recorded as a favor. But thanks to those great singles, the chiming Rickenbacker and those stellar harmonies, Mr. Tambourine Man remains a solid album. When their catalog was revamped in the mid-‘90s, there wasn’t much to add outside a few alternate takes. But Gene Clark’s “She Has A Way” deserved better than to be left in the vault, and to prove that these guys could play (despite the studio musicians used on the single) the updated CD now ends with an instrumental backing track to a song never finished.

The Byrds Mr. Tambourine Man (1965)—3½
1996 CD reissue: same as 1965, plus 6 extra tracks

Rolling Stones 5: December’s Children

For all their progress musically, their label still considered the Rolling Stones as product and nothing more. London Records had to get another LP on the shelves for the Xmas season, and that’s how December’s Children (an enigmatic title made even more obscure with the subtitle “And Everybody’s”) happened.

They started with a pile of tunes up for grabs from the British version of Out Of Our Heads, as well as using that album’s cover shot. “She Said Yeah” is a glorious minute and a half of fuzz, first made famous by the same guy who wrote “Slow Down” and “Dizzy Miss Lizzie”. “Talkin’ About You” is one of their less obvious Chuck Berry covers, given a more soul-oriented groove. And the slightly psychedelic “I’m Free” would go on to be one of their more unlikely stage favorites, though we wonder why they didn’t bother to redo that out-of-sync tambourine.

Because it was the law, two recent singles, the terrific “Get Off Of My Cloud” and the acquired taste “As Tears Go By”, had to be included on the album. The same went for their respective B-sides: “The Singer Not The Song”, which proves how difficult it is to keep two 12-strings in tune with each other, and “Gotta Get Away”, the inspiration for “Laugh” by the Monkees, as well as their own live arrangement for “Under My Thumb”. But the pickings then grew slim, which is how a demo of “Blue Turns To Grey” ended up there, along with two more songs from that live British EP, Muddy Waters’ “Look What You’ve Done” from Chess the year before, and “You Better Move On”, an Arthur Alexander slow burner that was already two years old at this point.

But even for such a mixed bag, December’s Children does have some decent music, and even more confident songwriting from Mick and Keith, making it a gamble that works. They were a good band that was only getting better.

The Rolling Stones December’s Children (And Everybody’s) (1965)—3½

Rolling Stones 4: Out Of Our Heads

The terrific title of Out Of Our Heads appeared on an album in America ahead of the UK, which always seemed to be slow in catching up. (The cover photo was already a year old, and one of the last times Mick would allow himself to be shoved out of the spotlight.) Meanwhile, the Stones were still relying on cover songs to fill up their shows, but they were also finally themeselves writing songs that would be the envy of their competitors.

Considering that this album includes both “The Last Time” and a little ditty called “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” is usually enough to put it in the pantheon of masterpieces, but those who do have overlooked the filler. “I’m Alright” is a hash of “Shout” recorded live for a British EP and stuck here for no reason. “The Under Assistant West Coat Promotion Man” is an in-joke that should have stayed a B-side. Another flip, “The Spider And The Fly”, is a little better, both as a blues pastiche and a song. And “One More Try” also wouldn’t come out in the UK for another six years.

One tune much too good to stay buried is “Play With Fire”, a stripped-down performance with spooky harpsichord by Jack Nitzsche, that lay the groundwork for every chauvinistic Stones track to follow. As good as they are, “Mercy Mercy”, “Hitch Hike”, “That’s How Strong My Love Is”, “Good Times” and “Cry To Me” were all recent hits by the likes of Sam Cooke and Marvin Gaye. It’s clear, however, that Mick’s voice was improving as he tried to emulate those soul legends.

While still a hodgepodge, Out Of Our Heads shows improvement, but since “Satisfaction” is available on about twelve other Stones compilations, it’s not as essential as it once was. (To confuse the CD buyer even further, it’s available today in both its US and UK incarnations—the latter sporting the cover used later on the US-only December’s Children, bending the space-time continuum even further. The two albums also have only six out of twelve songs in common, so they are markedly different listening experiences, and not just because the UK didn’t include any of the hit singles.)

The Rolling Stones Out Of Our Heads (1965)—3½

Rolling Stones 3: Now!

The Stones were already being set up as the dirtier alternative to the comparatively clean-cut Fab Four, and their third American LP only helped that assumption. The band’s albums sported increasingly cryptic liner notes by their manager, who saw his charges as A Clockwork Orange come to life. The Rolling Stones, Now! uses the same doggerel on the back of their second British LP, recommending that purchasers mug blind beggars for the cash needed to buy the album. The horror, indeed.

So besides giving collectors variations to hoard, is the album any good? That depends on your taste. It begins as a mirror of their second British album, released the month before (and which used the photo from 12 x 5), using seven songs that were on that, but soon goes other places to make up for songs already used. Mick and Keith were still learning to write songs, so the band’s act remained something of a rhythm and blues revue, exemplified by “Everybody Needs Somebody To Love”. “Down Home Girl”, despite its Stonesy title, is a cover featuring Jack Nitzsche on piano, while “You Can’t Catch Me” is the album’s requisite Chuck Berry tune. “Heart Of Stone” is a decent Jagger/Richards composition (particularly in comparison to “What A Shame” and “Off The Hook”), and Bo Diddley’s “Mona” is the last American holdout from the first British LP.

“Down The Road Apiece” is a good slice from the Chess sessions the previous year, a song older than every Stone save Bill. “Pain In My Heart” and “Oh Baby (We Got A Good Thing Goin’)” are decent versions of recent R&B hits, but nothing special, while “Little Red Rooster”, with its expressive Brian Jones fills, was an unlikely #1 in the UK. Finally, “Surprise Surprise”, already farmed out to a compilation in the UK, wouldn’t appear on a proper British Stones release for another five years. It’s a fairly ordinary twelve-bar until the hook at the end of each verse.

The band clearly hadn’t mastered the album process yet, and they weren’t helped by a record label still focused on marketing to screaming girls and teen mags. But to survive in the wave of the British Invasion, bands had to endure and adapt, and that applied to the Stones, too.

The Rolling Stones The Rolling Stones, Now! (1965)—3

Bob Dylan 6: Highway 61 Revisited

Once upon a time, recording artists were expected to put out two albums within a calendar year, along with a couple of unrelated singles. So it’s astonishing to consider that something as solid as Highway 61 Revisited arrived within months of his first “electric” album, helped along by a hit single at the unprecedented length of six minutes.

Our favorite story about “Like A Rolling Stone” is from John Hiatt, who said he heard the song for the first time on the car radio while his mother was in the store. It was such an experience, he says, that he was afraid she wouldn’t recognize him when she got back to the car. The intro remains unparalleled, starting from that dangerous snare crack. But if you’re tired of that, “Tombstone Blues” is a fantastic driving song with an insistent F# chord and stinging lead line all the way through. The lyrics make no sense, but his snotty vocal is infectious. “It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry” is a deceptive title for a sleepy song. While it started life as a driving rocker, here it’s got a loping beat that makes good use of those long-held notes. “From A Buick 6” fits the same useless task as “Outlaw Blues” on the previous album, and the side ends with “Ballad Of A Thin Man” (better known as “you know something’s happening, but you don’t know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?”), a nasty putdown built on a tack piano. Obviously this was a man you did not want to annoy.

Side two gets off to a shaky start with “Queen Jane Approximately”, which would have a lot more to recommend if he’d bothered to tune the guitars first. It’s too bad, as the performance doesn’t go justice to the words and chords. The title track is a scream, and gets points for replacing the harmonica with a police whistle right out of Looney Tunes. Truly hysterical. “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” is not as entrenched in the theater of the absurd as the rest of the album, but fills the slower verses with some pretty impenetrable imagery. Then it’s time for the grand finale, the litany of “Desolation Row”. Its Mexican guitar part gives no hint how long it will go on, and there’s only a harmonica break before the very last verse. (Another favorite story: Dylan gave an “interview” to Playboy in 1966 where he conspired with the writer to come up with incredibly obscure and outlandish answers to the questions. One of the gems involved his desire to change the national anthem from “The Star-Spangled Banner” to “Desolation Row”. We have a wonderful mental image of people rising for eleven minutes to sing it at the start of every baseball game: “They’re selling postcards of the hanging…”)

We will be lambasted for not giving this album five stars; it was decided to downgrade it because of “Buick” and “Queen Jane”. But they do fit in the bigger picture, and all together Highway 61 Revisited gives you an idea how this 24-year-old kid changed the face of pop music. He was clearly on a roll.

Bob Dylan Highway 61 Revisited (1965)—4½

Bob Dylan 5: Bringing It All Back Home

For those of you keeping score, this is the album where Dylan went electric, as the pundits like to say. But if you’re not ready for that, take comfort in this: Lyrically Bringing It All Back Home continues his progression from folksinger to poet, underscored by the use of a full rock combo on the first side, with slight accents on the second.

The acoustic guitar strums alone for a split second, then the band comes crashing in. “Subterranean Homesick Blues” is still remarkable after forty-plus years, a proud son of “Too Much Monkey Business” and father of “Pump It Up” (and, unfortunately, “Wild Wild West” by Escape Club). The volume goes down for “She Belongs To Me”, a deceptive portrait of a lady in the blues structure but with a twist. “Maggie’s Farm” is a protest song for those who want one, via the theater of the absurd. “Love Minus Zero/No Limit” is an underrated gem. The vocal is lovely, matching the words, and a good example to use for people who think all Dylan did was whine. “Outlaw Blues” pushes its luck, noisy for the sake of it, but “On The Road Again” is an improvement, with a great punch line on each verse. “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream” takes the melody from “Motorpsycho Nitemare” on the previous album, and tells another story of a man lost in a new world. The laughter at the start makes the track succeed.

It’s been said that side two continues the “electric” idea in the songs, which leap forward to parts uncharted. “Mr. Tambourine Man” would be done better by the Byrds, as would become common, but they only used one verse. (And of course, William Shatner recorded the definitive version himself, based on the Byrds arrangement.) “Gates Of Eden” is never sure what key it should be in, but it’s just a setup for the epic “It’s All Right, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)”. There’s always something new to discover in these verses, constituting an angry torrent of disappointment against all kinds of ugliness. After all that, “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” is almost pleasant. While still a classic Dylan kiss-off, it’s a great end to an amazing journey.

Bringing It All Back Home may have upset the folkies, but it brought him to the level of pop idol, and encouraged the direction of the next eighteen months. Even the cover was pretty cool.

Bob Dylan Bringing It All Back Home (1965)—4½

Beatles 20: Hollywood Bowl

It had been common knowledge for years that the boys’ concerts at the Hollywood Bowl were professionally recorded, yet had sat in the can due to the equivalent sound levels of Beatle vocals (when the mikes worked), instruments and several thousand fans. By 1977, great strides had been made in sound separation, so George Martin sat down with tapes from one 1964 show and two 1965 shows, and managed to combine them into a fairly cohesive unit just over half an hour. Although the result of the combination was something of a compromise, thanks of the quality of the recording compared to audience tapes of other shows, The Beatles At The Hollywood Bowl has endured as a definitive document of a time long past.

Of course, there were plenty of other live performances captured for posterity, at the very least visually. The 1965 Shea Stadium concert and a few 1966 Tokyo concerts were expertly filmed and broadcast, and most of their final show from Candlestick Park in 1966 has been circulating for years. But for reasons known only to Apple, none of these have been cleared for official release, either on audio or video. (There is another entity of live recordings that have managed to sneak into the racks of legitimate record dealers. The 1962 Hamburg tapes began their interminable saturation around the same time as the Hollywood Bowl set. The first release on the Lingasong label usually gets mentioned in the official discographies; the music itself is nothing special, while it has its moments, again, as a historical artifact.)

It took nearly four full decades for the Hollywood Bowl album to be re-released, and then as a tie-in with a major motion picture helmed by Opie Cunningham. Decent-sounding bootlegs had demonstrated the occasional sloppy performance, repetition and equipment malfunction throughout each of the performances, though only the most naïve of Beatlemaniacs would expect Apple to issue a complete show from either year, at any price. Instead, the 1977 album was reissued in its original hodgepodge sequence, remixed from better quality tapes to bring out more of the music, with four extra songs tacked on at the end (one of which had already appeared on a CD single in the Anthology era). Even the original cover, with its understated charm, was changed to hype the movie, which itself was something of a misfire. (What’s more, it was released in theaters in a double feature with an audio-visual upgrade of the Shea Stadium concert film, which still remains unavailable commercially in any format.)

Nitpicking aside, the music is great, right from the abbreviated blast through “Twist And Shout”. Six of the songs are covers, songs they’d been playing for years. We can already hear waning enthusiasm on the parts of John and George, but their attitude didn’t dilute their strumming capabilities. George’s 12-string Rickenbacker dominates the 1964 tracks, and boy, does it shimmer. John always seemed to screw up the lyrics to “Help!”, but listen to Paul’s bass while he’s singing “All My Loving”, and marvel at the power of “Things We Said Today”. To this day we don’t know why, of all the songs they could’ve chosen, “Baby’s In Black” was a staple of their set, but there it is and there the new album ends—much too quickly, just like their concerts.

The Beatles The Beatles At The Hollywood Bowl (1977)—3½
2016 Live At The Hollywood Bowl: same as 1977, plus 4 extra tracks