Nilsson 13: Sandman

The cover of Sandman is something of a joke; the front shows Harry Nilsson happily sitting on a beach, fully clothed, while the rear suggests he’s been eaten by a crab. (These photos were taken by his pal Mal Evans, the Beatle road manager who was tragically killed shortly before the album came out.) Inside the gatefold is something of a Victorian-style etching of what appears to be an impending shipwreck, with various of the album’s participants’ faces slipped in. Clearly, Harry loved comedy, but even humor that isn’t an in-joke can only be funny so far.

“I’ll Take A Tango” begins with admitting to an aversion to rock ‘n roll and electric guitars, while the barely danceable rhythm lists towards the edge of the deck depicted in the aforementioned gatefold. But it’s followed by “Something True”, the closest thing to the romantic splendor for which he first became famous, and a stunner. That slide guitar isn’t George Harrison’s, yet we wish it were. It’s only a momentary distraction, as he now informs us that “Pretty Soon There’ll Be Nothing Left For Everybody” over a busy samba beat. There’s a lot of reverb throughout the album, thankfully toned down on the a cappella college parody “The Ivy Colored Walls”—we’re guessing all those vocal parts are him—which crawls to a denouement without a clear punchline. Instead it’s right into the completely lazy “Here’s Why I Did Not Go To Work Today”, which on the label is the subtitle of “Thursday”.

Depending on who you are, the album’s high or low point is “The Flying Saucer Song”, which he’d been trying to record for three years. It’s predominantly a conversation over a lopey sax groove between two drunks at a bar, mediated by the bartender, and naturally he does all the voices. (Joe Cocker can be heard wailing in the background.) While it may not have been inspired by Cheech & Chong, it pales. For even more hilarity, “How To Write A Song” gives him another excuse to put “a—hole” into a song while providing the instructions over a canned cheering audience. He finally finishes “Jesus Christ You’re Tall” from the snippet on the last album, degenerating into a few minutes of scatting. “Will She Miss Me” is another big production with a romantic undercurrent, trilling strings everywhere.

Comedy albums were of course popular by the mid-‘70s, but that’s not the main reason why people liked Harry Nilsson. He clearly didn’t have enough songs in him anymore, which is too bad, since he didn’t have enough for a comedy album either.

Nilsson Sandman (1976)—2

Faces 6: Mahoney’s Last Stand

This enjoyable Faces side project snuck out four years after it was recorded, the soundtrack for a film that didn’t get a wide release either. Mahoney’s Last Stand was the brainchild of an actor best known for a couple guest star appearances on episodes of the cult TV series The Prisoner, and detailed the trials and tribulations of a man trying to get back to nature—a concept very appealing to Ronnie Lane. He and fellow Face Ron Wood recorded these tracks in 1972 while apparently “waiting around for Rod Stewart to show up to the Ooh La La recording sessions.”

Some of the music is very much along the lines of what the Faces might have done if Woody and not Rod had been so dominant. “Tonight’s Number” is a virtual Faces track, with Ian McLagan and Kenney Jones on board, along with Jim Price and Bobby Keys on horns, plus Pete Townshend on one guitar. “Title One” is a similar one-chord jam with horns, but not other Faces or Pete. “‘Mona’ The Blues” is an acoustic remake of an outtake from the first Faces album, whereas the Motown-flavored “Car Radio” could’ve come from their second.

Scattered throughout both sides, the rest points the gypsy folk direction Ronnie would pursue on his own. “From The Late To The Early” only has one verse despite several runs through the chords, mostly letting Woody extemporize on various acoustic guitars. “Chicken Wire” is a banjo-driven workout, while “Chicken Wired” is a slightly slower take with vocals and electric guitar. “Hay Tumble” and “Rooster Funeral” are another one-chord strum and a bluesy melody respectively, both with Ric Grech on violin, and “Woody’s Thing” features Ian Stewart on piano. Each side ends with a take of the wistful “Just For A Moment”, the second with a vocal.

By the time the album finally came out, Woody had already joined the Stones, while the packaging didn’t make it clear that this wasn’t a fresh reunion, that wasn’t enough to make it a hit. In the decades since it has been reissued a few times on CD, as well as streaming, so it can be appreciated again.

Ron Wood & Ronnie Lane Mahoney’s Last Stand: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (1976)—3

Aerosmith 4: Rocks

When you get your sound down, the thing to do is work to perfect it on your next album, especially when you need a follow-up and fast. Rocks did just that for Aerosmith fans, delivering 35 minutes of guitars and stank, with Jack Douglas once again helping them get it all on tape.

With all the subtlety of crashing through saloon doors, “Back In The Saddle” is a perfect opener, right down to the whipcrack, stomping spurs, and neighing horses, you can practically feel the dust. (There’s even yodeling.) “Last Child” slows things down right away, but they fall into a stank of a groove with plenty of layers, mostly from the fingers of Brad Whitford. Some city sound effects link to the next track; “Rats In The Cellar” ups the tempo bigtime in something of a mirror to the title track of the previous album, with a cool extended ending. “Combination” is a sneaky one, since you really have to concentrate to discern the lyrics, but it’s actually a duet between Steven Tyler and Joe Perry, and something of a manifesto for their “toxic twins” image.

Don’t be fooled by the acoustics (and maybe a banjo?) at the start of “Sick As A Dog”, because it soon resolves into more chord-driven riffing that’s not too different from what we’ve already heard, but the twin solos in the break make a difference. After another atmospheric link, “Nobody’s Fault” would launch at least a dozen metal bands by the turn of the decade, only these guys keep some personality in the mix. “Get The Lead Out” sports a sassy strut they’d return to time and time again, while “Lick And A Promise” starts with one seriously complicated riff and just keeps going. Not until the end do they vary from the program. “Home Tonight” is a piano-based power ballad that would set another template for the band in the decades to come. At least they left out the orchestra, or at least mixed it low.

Throughout Rocks, the vocals are generally buried under all the guitars. Which is fine, but it makes it kinda hard to sing along. While it lacks the musical breadth of the two albums before, it delivers and keeps knees jogging. It’s clear why so many budding guitarists choose this as their favorite Aerosmith album.

Aerosmith Rocks (1976)—3

Roger McGuinn 4: Cardiff Rose

It’s safe to say that Roger McGuinn was lost at sea for much of the ‘70s. The Byrds had dribbled to a stop, and his solo career wasn’t exactly a brilliant new chapter. But he definitely lucked out when he got to join Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue, given solo spots at every show and hobnobbing with like-minded musicians. Not only did they join him in recording Cardiff Rose, but Mick Ronson produced it, and most of the non-covers were co-writes with Jacques Levy, still riding high on his own Dylan connection but whom McGuinn had found first.

The spirit of the Revue pervades on “Take Me Away”, teeming with the wonder and joy of being part of the traveling troupe. As might be expected, “Jolly Roger” is a sea chantey about pirates, with sound effects to match, well matched to his strummed 12-string. Dripping with contempt for the career he’s chosen, the snotty “Rock And Roll Time” is a surprising collaboration with Bob Neuwirth and Kris Kristofferson, though the repetition of “take me away” makes an odd juxtaposition with the opening track, and we’re not so sure that was intentional. The simple acoustic strum of “Friend”, its sadness underscored by a lonesome violin, provides a striking contrast, and evokes sympathy where the next song fails. “Partners In Crime” is a shout-out to Abbie Hoffman—then on the run from the law—and the rest of the Chicago Seven, starting with something of a calypso doo-wop rhythm that changes for the chorus, then goes back to a ‘50s parody, then back to doo-wop. Apparently Levy didn’t learn his lesson with “Joey”.

Roger never found an obscure Dylan song he didn’t like, and here he gave the world its first exposure to “Up To Me”, the masterpiece left off of Blood On The Tracks due to its similarity to “Shelter From The Storm”. While it always seemed like one of his most personal songs, McGuinn makes it his own. “Round Table” retells the myth of King Arthur without leaning on medieval instrumentation, but the venerable murder ballad “Pretty Polly”, which he’d been trying to record since Sweetheart Of The Rodeo, is played straight folk with prominent banjo. He ends with another preview of a song by another Rolling Thunder alumnus, in this case Joni Mitchell’s “Dreamland”, giving it more fuzz than she ever would.

Not everything on Cardiff Rose has aged well, but at least he seemed more comfortable with his surroundings, though his growing caricature of a voice makes him sound older than he actually was. Perhaps because it was so much better than what had come before, it stayed a favorite among fans for years. (The eventual Sundazed expanded CD offered two bonuses: a defiant-sounding live take of “Dreamland”, and a baffling cover of Bowie’s “Soul Love”.)

Roger McGuinn Cardiff Rose (1976)—3
2004 Sundazed reissue: same as 1976, plus 2 extra tracks

Todd Rundgren 34: Disco Jets

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

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

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

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

Todd Rundgren & Utopia Disco Jets (2012)—3

Warren Zevon 2: Warren Zevon

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

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

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

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

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

Jon Anderson 1: Olias Of Sunhillow

Unlike his colleagues in Yes, Jon Anderson’s first solo album was exactly that. He played and sang everything on Olias Of Sunhillow, a dense collection of songs inspired by a previous Yes album cover—namely, Fragile. The titular hero builds an ark-like hang glider to carry the four tribes of his home planet to another before the first is destroyed. (This isn’t clear from the songs, but explained in the narration within the elaborate packaging.) As he was working completely on his own, with only an engineer for assistance, it took a while, but when complete it turned out to predict the kind of New Age music that would be dominated by synthesizers as well as esoteric instruments, with only his distinct voice (and ecological lyrical concerns) tying it all into Yes proper.

“Ocean Song” rumbles into form with a wash of keyboards and harp-type things, then layers of voices bring in “Meeting (Garden Of Geda)”, a mere prelude to “Sound Out The Galleon”, a proper song. More harps play “Dance Of Ranyart”, supposedly the navigator, and he’s gotten quite proficient at the instrument, but this is another prelude, this time to the bloops and beeps that begin “Olias (To Build The Moorglade)”, another actual song that helps us pronounce the guy’s name right. He follows the Tolkien path of creating his own language in “Qoquaq Ën Transic/Naon/Transic Tö”, a suite of synth beds interrupted by indiscernible chanting over tribal drums. “Flight Of The Moorglade” is suitably trilling and hopeful.

Presumably they got airborne, as “Solid Space” nicely evokes the sensation of flight, or at least watching such a thing. The aural journey continues for the lengthy “Moon Ra/Chords/Song Of Search” suite, wherein the notes tell us fear and discord took hold of the refugees, yet Olias was able to quell everything with his music. (The music itself, however, stays lofty and progressive throughout.) “To The Runner” provides another trilling celebration of something, culminating in music we’re sure we heard on the Narada label at some point or another.

Olias Of Sunhillow is one of those albums that provides an immersive, multi-sensory experience should one choose to delve so deep, but it also works as a nice album to listen to for the sake of enjoyment. This too was mostly ignored in the digital era in this country, but has since been given the deluxe treatment with remastered sound and 5.1 surround content. He’s been threatening a sequel, so who knows if that will ever happen.

Jon Anderson Olias Of Sunhillow (1976)—3

Queen 5: A Day At The Races

Named after another Marx Brothers film and sporting a similar cover design, it’s easy to view A Day At The Races as a companion to Queen’s previous album. That would be incorrect, since it’s as different from A Night At The Opera as that was to Sheer Heart Attack, which this one more closely resembles.

Something of a pompous synthetic fanfare opens takes up the first minute, and it’s a distraction before “Tie Your Mother Down” crashes in with its terrific riff. After that solid opener, Freddie is left alone with his multitracked harmonies and his lonesome piano for “You Take My Breath Away”. At five minutes it takes a while to make its point, and the closing loop makes an unsettling transition to the more typical ‘70s rock of “Long Away”. Brian sings this one, and we’re reminded of how much his voice does match Freddie’s. “The Millionaire Waltz” begins like Freddie solo again, this time in operetta mode. When the drums finally come in, they’re welcome, but it’s become a little too much of a retread of “Bohemian Rhapsody”. “You And I” returns us to straight rock, proving once again how much of a secret weapon John Deacon was as a songwriter.

While “Somebody To Love” is as over-the-top as anything on this album, it’s still one of Freddie’s (and the band’s) greatest creations. Here it all comes together—the piano, the bass, the drums, the guitar, and especially the choir on top of that voice. We even feel let down after it dribbles to a close, since it’s followed by the angry rock outrage of “White Man” (though it should be said that English bands singing about the plight of Native Americans was a smart shift away from those who were obsessed with cowboys). It’s another U-turn to the mild vaudeville of “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy”, more along the line of the Queen that had been emerging. Roger Taylor’s songs always stick out like a sore thumb on Queen albums, and “Drowse” fills the same requirement as “I’m In Love With My Car”, though it’s nowhere near as silly. Brian apparently provides the keyboards for “Teo Torriatte (Let Us Cling Together)”, which is a nice lighter-waver sung partially in Japanese. The already anthemic song ends with that backwards-sounding fanfare that opens the album.

A Day At The Races is good, but it had a hard act to follow. Still, it shows they were trying, highlights their versatility, and continues the brand they were building. They were getting there, certainly. (Neither of the modern mixes on the 1991 expansion were included on the 2011 remaster. Instead, consumers got the backing track for “Tie Your Mother Down”—which still has the backing vocals on the choruses—a lengthy live “Somebody To Love” from 1982 and a preview of “You Take My Breath Away” from 1976, a slightly different “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” from a Top Of The Pops appearance, and an “HD mix” of “Teo Torriatte” that omits the crazy ending.)

Queen A Day At The Races (1976)—3
1991 Hollywood reissue: same as 1976, plus 2 extra tracks
2011 remaster: same as 1976, plus 5 extra tracks

Kiss 6: Rock And Roll Over

The fans (and the label) were accustomed to a couple of Kiss albums a year, and the band managed to deliver a follow-up to Destroyer on time. After the experimentation of that album, they went back to Eddie Kramer for more of a straightforward approach on Rock And Roll Over—still one of the dopiest titles of its era.

Right away they’re up to their old tricks. “I Want You” begins with Paul Stanley’s tender plaint over an acoustic 12-string, but the band kicks in to illustrate his insistence that the object of his desire will not, cannot escape him. On “Take Me” he instructs her to put her hand in his pocket to “grab onto [his] rocket”, but it’s still a great riff. Gene Simmons summons the cowbell to take over the mic for “Calling Dr. Love”, which delivers similar sentiments, but it’s a nice change in dynamic. His rhyming dictionary isn’t as successful on “Ladies Room”, nor is it clear why he wants to meet her there for an intimate encounter, but we’re either missing the obvious or thinking way too much. Peter Criss gets to sing “Baby Driver”—sadly, not a Simon & Garfunkel song, but some kind of celebration of automative transportation.

Lest any young lovely think she truly can reach these rough boys, “Love ‘Em And Leave ‘Em” makes their manifesto clear. The drums on the verses stand out because it sounds like they doubled the snare by smacking a chiffarobe. Built around another rock-solid riff that almost excuses rhyming “chances” with “romances”, “Mr. Speed” assumes that women would actually appreciate the lovin’ styles of a man with that nickname. Such presumption continues on “See You In Your Dreams”, wherein Gene details the obsession that will afflict her after he’s left town. Peter gets to shine again in the “Beth” slot, this time with “Hard Luck Woman”, which distills the third and fourth Rod Stewart albums into another catchy hit. And as before, Paul won’t let his drummer enjoy any accolades too long, as “Makin’ Love” slaps aside the country for a proto-speed metal inversion of “Train Kept A-Rollin’”.

We said in our assessment of their debut that rock ‘n roll is supposed to be fun, and a little stupid, and Rock And Roll Over delivers nicely. Some parents might not have been pleased with some of the lyrical content, if their kids were dumb enough to let them hear the album, but that’s their problem.

Kiss Rock And Roll Over (1976)—3½

Kinks 21: Celluloid Heroes

After six challenging albums, critically and commercially, RCA did not renew the Kinks’ contract, and let them scamper off to greener pastures. Naturally, the label made sure to cash in immediately with a hits album.

Of course, the band didn’t really have any hits to speak of save one, so the title The Kinks’ Greatest — Celluloid Heroes was subjective, save the track that inspired it. True to form, the label put minimal effort into the packaging, giving no information as to the albums that spawned the tracks, and failing to identify any live or single versions, of which there were a few. (On the back cover, some song titles are asterisked, for reasons we have yet to determine.)

That said, the album does take several songs out of their specific contexts, giving them the chance to be heard simply as songs and not as plot points in a concept album. “Everybody’s A Star (Starmaker)” rocks, and it’s the single edit, so it makes its point quick, in time for “Sitting In My Hotel” to provide the downside to the proposition. A live version of “Here Comes Yet Another Day” is a surprise, complete with horn section and backup singers; this segues neatly to the live “Holiday” from Everybody’s In Show-Biz. “Muswell Hillbilly” picks up the pace before “Celluloid Heroes” gets the lighters going.

“20th Century Man” drops us back on Muswell Hill, and “Sitting In The Midday Sun” and “One Of The Survivors” offer two of the better tunes from the first Preservation act, the latter in a unique mix with a different verse. “Alcohol” and “Skin & Bone” are previously released live versions, and as nice as “(A) Face In The Crowd” is, it ends the set on a downer.

When the band’s catalog was upgraded at the turn of the century, Celluloid Heroes was overhauled with a different track listing, substituting studio versions for live versions and album tracks for single edits, adding even songs to fill the CD’s capacity but cutting others. Only “Alcohol” appeared in its live incarnation. If anything, it seemed designed to give equal time to each of the RCA albums, unlike the LP. In the streaming era, however, the title has reverted to that original sequence, preserving the live “Here Comes Another Day” that has appeared nowhere else, as well as the alternate “One Of The Survivors”. Either version of the album only underscores how spotty this period was for those who aren’t already converted.

The Kinks The Kinks’ Greatest — Celluloid Heroes (1976)—3
The Kinks Celluloid Heroes (2001)—3

Grateful Dead 14: Steal Your Face

Back before quitting the road for a spell, the Dead undertook a few projects to buy time and stay in front of fans. One guaranteed crowd-pleaser was The Grateful Dead Movie, which combined performances from a farewell five-night stand at San Francisco’s Winterland Ballroom with conversations with actual Deadheads plus psychedelic animation. Of course, by the time the film was finished, the band had resumed touring anyway, so to maximize the documentation of the stint, as well as bolster profits for their failing record label, the double live Steal Your Face album was released as a placeholder.

This was the period where the band was using their “Wall of Sound” PA system, a couple hundred speakers that may have sounded fine in person, but wasn’t recorded very well. Also, where previous live albums had ebb, flow, and momentum, this one seemed mostly a grab bag. It was not well-received, nor did it seem the band had much input past playing the songs in the first place. The energy seems subdued, even for them; “Ship Of Fools”, for one, is taken at a funereal pace, making “Beat It On Down The Line” a welcome pick-me-up, even with Donna Godchaux doing her thing. A few R&B and country covers make their first appearances on a Dead LP after having been in their repertoire for a few years; Chuck Berry’s “Promised Land” and “Around And Around” don’t have much life, but “Big River” by Johnny Cash and “El Paso” by Marty Robbins are snappier. Similarly, “solo” tracks like “Sugaree” and “Black Throated Wind” get the full band treatment, and Robert Hunter’s “It Must Have Been The Roses” enjoys another workout.

Despite its relation to the film, Steal Your Face was not the official soundtrack album for their movie, nor was it given much love in their ongoing archival program, getting only a couple of straight CD transfers with no extras. Rather, fans are directed to The Grateful Dead Movie Soundtrack, which offers five discs full of mostly complete performances from the shows, though not all of them, and in a mostly ramshackle order. (It still offers more than the double-DVD reissue of the movie itself.) As for the Wall of Sound era, official band archivists have made several shows available for comparison, as listed below.

Grateful Dead Steal Your Face (1976)—3
     Archival releases of same vintage:
     • Dick’s Picks Volume Seven (1997)
     • Dick’s Picks Volume Twelve (1998)
     • Dick’s Picks Volume Twenty-Four (2002)
     • Dick’s Picks Volume 31 (2004)
     • The Grateful Dead Movie Soundtrack (2005)
     • Road Trips: Vol. 2, No. 3 (2009)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 2 (2012)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 9 (2014)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 13 (2015)
     • 30 Trips Around The Sun: The Definitive Live Story 1965-1995 (2015)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 17 (2016)
     • Pacific Northwest ‘73-‘74: The Complete Recordings (2018)
     • Pacific Northwest ‘73-‘74: Believe It If You Need It (2018)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 34 (2020)
     • Dave’s Picks Volume 42 (2022)
     • From The Mars Hotel: 50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition (2024)

Kiss 5: Destroyer

A whopping six months had passed since Kiss released Alive!, partially since they were touring to support it. When it came time for their next studio album, the band boldly hooked up with Bob Ezrin, who had most recently produced several Alice Cooper albums. As a result, Destroyer was cleaner, and occasionally tougher, than the first three Kiss albums, and incorporated writing credits from people outside the band.

While not a concept album, there is something resembling audio theater tying the tracks together, beginning with the montage of someone listening to the news on the radio, then getting into his (we assume) car and rocking out to older Kiss songs before “Detroit Rock City” starts for real. This is still a great riff and catchy chorus, with a pristine solo; the album version goes as far as to underscore the impending carnage in the final verse by using the sound of a car crash. This goes right into “King Of The Night Time World”, which also could have kicked off the album nicely, not to mention giving frustrated teenage boys an anthem. Any doom and gloom intended by “God Of Thunder” is negated by Bob Ezrin’s sons, whose surreptitiously recorded voices had already graced a Lou Reed album. More unintentional comedy arrives via “Great Expectations”, which cribs a Beethoven melody and uses a boys’ choir to hold up Gene Simmons’ laughable boasts.

“Flaming Youth” is very well-constructed, and with good reason: Ezrin cobbled it together from three different songs by Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley, and Simmons that he felt weren’t up to snuff. In another sign of things to come, the guitar solos on this and “Sweet Pain” are played by Dick Wagner, also from the Alice Cooper band and well known from another Lou Reed album. “Shout It Out Loud” delivers another party anthem in the middle of side two, but this would not be the album’s main sales draw. That honor went to “Beth”, brought in by Peter Criss from his previous band and given an over-the-top reading with Ezrin on piano and members of the New York Philharmonic underneath his shaky vocal. To Paul and Gene’s horror, audiences ate it up. Paul gets the last word in “Do You Love Me”, balancing double entendres with alleged sensitivity. (While not listed on the original label or sleeve, “Rock And Roll Party” provides a closing collage to match the one that opened the album.)

The variety of styles and pop touches may have compromised the image somewhat, but Destroyer only increased the band’s popularity. Besides, they’d have another album out by the end of the year anyway.

The album’s status made it one of the few to get anything resembling an anniversary overhaul. While released a year later than the more round number of 35, Destroyer (Resurrected) was wholly remixed from the original master tapes by Bob Ezrin, who brought out buried instruments and vocals. “Sweet Pain” now features Ace’s original, wiped solo, while the standard track is added at the very end. And of course, it uses the original cover design. Some fans felt this put a mustache on the Mona Lisa, but how would they have felt if the remix was stuck in a double-CD set, with or without any other extras?

Not quite ten years later, the album’s 45th anniversary was celebrated with a Super Deluxe Edition that added a disc of demos, another of outtakes and alternate mixes, and a fourth with a 1976 concert in Paris in bootleg quality, plus a Blu-ray and the usual collectable ephemera. A simpler two-disc Deluxe Edition added a grab bag of the demos and alternates, plus the first four songs from the Paris concert, but it’s likely any real fans would spring for the big one, unless they bought the cheap to keep sealed.

Kiss Destroyer (1976)—3½
2012 Destroyer (Resurrected): “same” as 1976, plus 1 extra track
2021 45th Anniversary Deluxe Edition: same as 1976, plus 16 extra tracks (Super Deluxe Edition adds another 33 tracks plus Blu-ray)

Elton John 15: Blue Moves

Seemingly pathologically addicted to recording albums, Elton emerged with his second double album in the space of three years. Heavy on pop and disco, Blue Moves is an over-ambitious, labored set that unfortunately pales in comparison with the more rock-oriented and concise Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Musicians vary from track to track, and instead of the standard Elton John/Bernie Taupin credit for all the songs, authorship runs all over the place.

Right away, “Your Starter For…” is an antiseptic instrumental written by occasional band member Caleb Quaye, and unfortunately provides an incongruous setup for the lengthy introduction to “Tonight”, performed by the London Symphony Orchestra (and recorded at Abbey Road Studios, of course). All that’s missing is a candelabra. When Elton’s vocal finally comes in, you wish he hadn’t taken so long. As a movie soundtrack it might work, but there’s nothing like the payoff of “Love Lies Bleeding” after “Funeral For A Friend”. (We’ll try to keep those comparisons to a minimum.) “One Horse Town” manages to combine rock and disco in a well-worn theme for this lyricist, except that Ray Cooper’s vibraphone plonks are mixed as loud as the synthesized burps. Ray similarly dominates the next track, but as “Chameleon” recalls earlier, simpler triumphs, it’s a keeper. Finally.

Side two continues the flirting with American music, and not successfully. “Boogie Pilgrim” has something of a New Orleans funk strut, with lots of interjections by the Rev. James Cleveland for some reason. “Cage The Songbird” tries to do for Edith Piaf what “Candle In The Wind” did for Marilyn Monroe, but the “Daniel” flutes and country backing don’t fit. David Crosby and Graham Nash nicely blend their voices, though, as they did consistently when asked. “Crazy Water” is a too-long retread of “Philadelphia Freedom”, but lose the Brecker Brothers horn section and David Sanborn sax solo, and “Shoulder Holster” might fit on Tumbleweed Connection, though it wouldn’t be a highlight.

A true classic, and a heartbreaking one, emerges in “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word”; our only quibble is the accordion. The mood is dispelled by “Out Of The Blue”, a six-minute instrumental sporting impeccably synchronized guitar and yes, vibes. The mild island feel of “Between Twenty And Seventeen” does not match a lyric about how the music business wrecked Bernie’s marriage to a certain tiny dancer. “The Wide Eyed And Laughing” gets points for being different, as it features several sitars as well as Crosby and Nash again. It also took five people to write. Reflecting the down start to the side, “Someone’s Final Song” is a sad elegy featuring just Elton, his piano, sympathetic keyboard touches from James Newton Howard, and mild backing voices.

The vibe continues on “Where’s The Shoorah?”, with a similar stark performance except for the choir led by Rev. Cleveland. (We looked it up, and while a shoorah has connotations both Hebrew and hoodoo, chances are Bernie just liked how it sounded.) The title basically sums up “If There’s A God In Heaven (What’s He Waiting For?)”, more fist-shaking about social ills. Despite the musical quality of this last run of tracks, “Idol” inadvertently identifies the main problem with the album (“he's not the same no more/And I have to say that I like the way his music sounded before”) over a lounge backing that must have meant a lot to George Michael. “Theme From A Non-Existent TV Series” is as badly placed as the other instrumentals, and “Bite Your Lip (Get Up And Dance!)” tries to provide a grand finale along the lines of “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting”, not realizing they’d nailed it the first time.

As well produced as it is, and there are high points, Blue Moves is still a mess, if not quite the Self Portrait to his Blonde On Blonde. Even if it were shaved down to two sides, it would still be subpar. Unfortunately, this is approximately where Elton, and his golden touch, went off the rails. (Because of the varying accepted capacity of compact discs in their early days, the album’s debut in the format was incomplete, cutting four tracks almost at random in order to fit on a single CD. It only took 20 years for a fully restored two-CD program, split between the original two LPs.)

Elton John Blue Moves (1976)—2

Bob Weir 2: Kingfish

While Jerry Garcia played with a whole pile of people in and out of the Dead during their live hiatus, Bob Weir stuck mostly with a local bar band called Kingfish, fronted by occasional Dead collaborator Matthew Kelly and New Riders of the Purple Sage refugee Dave Torbert. Their eponymous debut came out on the Dead’s Round Records imprint, which was reserved for side projects such as these.

The big shot got to kick off the album, and both “Lazy Lightning” and “Supplication” would find their ways into Dead sets in the future, sometimes in tandem, sometimes not. Bobby also sings lead on “Home To Dixie” and the Marty Robbins outlaw ballad “Big Iron”, later covered by Johnny Cash in the Rick Rubin era. He also anchors the reggae gospel reading of “Bye And Bye”, a Joseph Spence arrangement of the beloved hymn “We’ll Understand It Better By And By”.

In between, the success of the album depends on your tolerance of mid-‘70s country rock. We hear echoes of the Starland Vocal Band with a better guitar player. A few tracks stand out, such as “Asia Minor”, one of a few songs brought forward from an earlier Kelly-Torbert project, and sporting some of the skip-time elements of earlier Dead.

Bob would be back with the Dead soon enough, leaving Kingfish to endure on their own. Matt Kelly would reappear throughout the Dead story from time to time, but outside of this album and a couple live releases, the band’s connection is merely tangential.

Kingfish Kingfish (1976)—3

Jerry Garcia 5: Reflections

As mentioned, the Dead as a unit were off the road, but all the members kept busy, in the studio and onstage, sometimes with each other. So it was that Jerry Garcia’s next solo album was an amalgam of sorts. Half was recorded with the current Jerry Garcia Band (which included Nicky Hopkins on keyboards, as well as Larry Knechtel in the studio), and the rest featured the Dead. Since each of the latter would make it to their setlists, Reflections shouldn’t be dismissed as a side project. Be warned, however: Donna Godchaux is prominent in the mix, in both bands.

The music alternates from one band to the other, but since the Dead tracks bookend the set, we’ll start there. “Might As Well” kicks off the proceedings, but don’t be fooled by the rollicking arrangement; this is predominantly a low-key set. The other tunes made their first album appearances after several years in progress: written solely by Robert Hunter, “It Must Have Been The Roses” was rescued from his first solo album; “They Love Each Other” was a perennial in 1973, but not as jaunty here; “Comes A Time” had been around as far back as 1971, and gains an expressive solo.

The “other” tracks aren’t as strong, with the clear exception of “Mission In The Rain”. The only Garcia/Hunter original here recorded by the solo band, it’s a keeper, from the mystery of the first verse to the delivery in the chorus. Unfortunately, “I’ll Take A Melody” is an Allan Toussaint song taken at a dirgey pace. “Tore Up Over You” is a Hank Ballard & The Midnighters song done well here, with lots of rolling piano from Nicky, whereas the country cover “Catfish John” was already in Jerry’s peripheral vision, having been part of the Old & In The Way repertoire.

Given the two distinct sources of the recordings, Reflections is sequenced very well, mostly alternating between bands. The bonuses include four further middling covers jammed in the studio by the JGB, along with a 16-minute Dead instrumental called “Orpheus”. This certainly supports the theory that the album was pieced together using earlier Dead sessions, coming off the high of the Blues For Allah experiments, to bolster what little the JGB was able to accomplish in the studio.

(Note: while we don’t normally append studio albums with this kind of info, it bears mentioning that two live collections from the vaults spotlight this lineup of the JGB, and especially because Nicky Hopkins is involved. They are listed below.)

Jerry Garcia Reflections (1976)—3
2004 expanded CD: same as 1976, plus 5 extra tracks
     Archival releases of same vintage:
     • Let It Rock: The Jerry Garcia Collection, Vol. 2 (2009)
     • Garcia Live Volume Five (2014)

Faces 7: Snakes And Ladders

It’s commonly known that once the Faces were done, Rod Stewart concentrated on his solo career and Ron Wood was asked to join the Rolling Stones (though he wouldn’t be a fully vested member of the corporation until 1990). Ian McLagan and Kenney Jones managed to shanghai Steve Marriott for a reformed Small Faces, to little excitement, and then that was really it.

Meanwhile, with both Rod and the band’s catalog on their roster, Warner Bros. compiled Snakes And Ladders, subjectively subtitled Best Of Faces to make the most of it. It’s an odd set; the cover art is a collage of photos featuring several shots of interim bassist Tetsu Yamauchi (who plays on exactly one track) but none of Ronnie Lane. More to the point, none of Ronnie’s lead vocals are included. Obviously, they knew where the money was.

The album opens with “Pool Hall Richard”, a standalone single and a decent rocker, then meanders oddly through the catalog, stopping at obvious hits like “Stay With Me” and “Ooh La La”. The instrumental “Pineapple And The Monkey” and “Around The Plynth” are particularly odd choices. Side two sports the mildly disco “You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything (Even Take The Dog For A Walk, Mend A Fuse, Fold Away The Ironing Board, Or Any Other Domestic Shortcomings)”, another standalone single, but only the original LP has the alternate single take of “Had Me A Real Good Time”.

Only eight of the tracks were repeated on the superior Good Boys… When They're Asleep compilation, released 23 years later. This set moves chronologically, covering much more of the band’s breadth. It’s also a better tribute to Ronnie Lane, given the inclusion of “Debris”, “You’re So Rude”, and “Glad And Sorry”, though it pointedly hypes the connection to Rod’s solo career in the packaging. Along with “Pool Hall Richard” and “You Can Make Me Dance”, the set includes “Open To Ideas”, a soulful unreleased track from the band’s final sessions.

The set was spearheaded by Ian McLagan, whose enthusiasm also drove the next major archival release. Besides sporting the greatest box set title of all time, Five Guys Walk Into A Bar… provides an exhaustive look at the band on four discs. Less than half of the tracks were from the original albums (including the two singles and outtakes from Good Boys), filling up the balance with B-sides, alternate takes, rehearsals, live performances, BBC appearances, and unreleased stuff. Ten years later, 1970-1975: You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything… boxed up the original four albums, each bolstered with extras on the CD edition, and added a fifth disc of Stray Singles & B-Sides. And ten years after that, Faces At The BBC delivered eight hours of exactly that over eight CDs and one Blu-ray. There’s a lot of repetition, but you also get their reverent renditions of Christmas carols.

Between those sets, Faces are covered. Certainly no other band has gotten more mileage out of ellipses.

Faces Snakes And Ladders/Best Of Faces (1976)—3
Faces The Best Of Faces: Good Boys… When They're Asleep (1999)—4
Faces Five Guys Walk Into A Bar… (2004)—3½
Faces 1970-1975: You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything… (2015)—3½
Faces Faces At The BBC: Complete BBC Concert & Session Recordings 1970-1973 (2024)—3

Elton John 14: Here And There

Five years and eight albums since his last live album, Here And There presented a side each from two different concerts from 1974 with the classic Elton John Band with Dee Murray, Davey Johnstone, and Nigel Olsson. It was initially intended as something of a contractual obligation in the UK, with “here” being London and “there” being New York City, but the quality of the music elevates it above stopgap status.

The London show is said to be a retrospective through the years, beginning with “Skyline Pigeon”. The band kicks in for the end of “Border Song” and gives percussionist Ray Cooper three minutes to play a duck call solo in the middle of “Honky Cat”. “Love Song” is a surprise, particularly as it is performed, as on the album, as a duet with writer Lesley Duncan. “Crocodile Rock” is just plain playful, as usual.

He sounds a little hoarse on the Madison Square Garden side—understandable, as he’d been on the road for two months already—but he has the first half of “Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding” to rest up. “Rocket Man” and “Bennie And The Jets” inspire lots of cheering, and while “Take Me To The Pilot” doesn’t have the power of its initial live version, it’s still loaded with energy.

Given the repetition from the hits album and its presenting only a handful of tunes, Here And There was easy to overlook. That changed with the remaster rollout of the mid-‘90s, which more than doubled the program, devoting a full CD to each of the shows. The London show includes even more gems from the past, including further selections from Tumbleweed Connection and even “Bad Side Of The Moon”. Along with more hits and the Muscle Shoals Horns for “You’re So Static”, it turns out the New York show was the same one where John Lennon made his surprise (and final) stage appearance, and those three songs are now included in the proper context. Yes, “Take Me To The Pilot” and “Your Song” now appear twice each, but is that such a bad thing?

Elton John Here And There (1976)—3
1995 CD reissue: same as 1976, plus 16 extra tracks

Bryan Ferry 3: Let’s Stick Together

While Roxy Music was on hold, Bryan Ferry didn’t waste the opportunity to do a summing-up of his own. Let’s Stick Together fit with his existing solo brand of Roxy-fied covers, but this time collected various strays that had been already issued as B-sides or EPs. The other difference was that half of the album consisted of re-recorded Roxy tracks, mostly from the first album. “Casanova” is transformed into a slinky strut, while “Sea Breezes” tempers the creep factor somewhat. “2HB” and “Chance Meeting” might as well be the same recordings, but unfortunately, “Re-Make/Re-Model” is drained of its charm, losing the solo sections but retaining the slowdown.

The balance of the album shows he’s getting the hang of putting his own stamp on covers. The “title track” is dominated by a saxophone honking one note throughout—just like the harmonica on Wilbert Harrison’s original, but not as charmingly. “Shame, Shame, Shame” is nice and trashy, the Beatles’ “It’s Only Love” is completely transformed into something else entirely, and the old chestnut “You Go To My Head” becomes pure Philly soul. “The Price Of Love” was a latter-day Everly Brothers hit; just chop off the mariachi trumpet at the start for best effect. Finally, “Heart On My Sleeve” was actually a current song, courtesy of the Gallagher and Lyle songwriting team.

Having been cobbled from various sources, Let’s Stick Together actually works as an album, with enough variety to keep him from having to sustain a theme. The alternate takes on Roxy tunes remain curiosities, in all senses of the word.

Bryan Ferry Let’s Stick Together (1976)—3

Roxy Music 6: Viva! and Greatest Hits

Some said Roxy Music broke up, others said they were taking a break. While various members would collaborate over the next couple years, the first thing they did was release a live album, which is what you’re supposed to do, unless you do a hits collection, and we’ll get to that.

Viva! Roxy Music was compiled predominantly from a couple shows from 1974, with two songs from a year before and another from a year after. The energy throughout is good, and consistent throughout. The transitions between songs from different tours are particularly seamless. Even the quieter tracks, like “Chance Meeting”, get to shine in the live setting, as even Glaswegian audiences hadn’t yet learned to be as disruptive as their American cousins. Fans of John Wetton will want to pay close attention, as he played bass on the 1974 tour, and his contributions stand out, particularly on “The Bogus Man” and the loud portion of “In Every Dream Home A Heartache”. Meanwhile, Sal Maida, later of the legendary Long Island power pop outfit Milk ‘N’ Cookies, features on bass for the 1973 tracks. And when the album ends, it just ends—no audience cheering, just silence.

The only real rarity on Viva! is “Pyjamarama”, a standalone single taken at a sluggish pace. Luckily, it was included at full speed, albeit remixed, on the following year’s Greatest Hits, alongside such usual suspects as “Virginia Plain”, “Love Is The Drug”, and “Do The Strand”. Granted, most of these were hits in the UK only, but that shouldn’t bother American fans. The tempo stays up all the way through “A Song For Europe”, and regains the pace for the last two tracks. Easily a good place to start, at least until the number of Roxy compilations would dwarf that of their studio albums.

Roxy Music Viva! Roxy Music (1976)—3½
Roxy Music Greatest Hits (1977)—3½

Rod Stewart 8: A Night On The Town

Even though he wasn’t doing double time with a band, Rod Stewart gamely threw himself into the demands dictated by his new record label. Much like Atlantic Crossing, A Night On The Town was divided between slow and fast sides, and we still see a call-back to Never A Dull Moment in the cover art.

At this point Rod had certainly become a mainstream success, a hit on AM radio as well as FM, and for those of us of a certain age, this is why we couldn’t take him seriously for so long. Granted, “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy” was a few years away, but the guy in the leopard print top and the spandex slacks is in full effect. This is the album that opens with “Tonight’s The Night (Gonna Be Alright)”. Whereas Neil Young’s song of similar title was an elegy for dead junkies, here Rod is doing his best to talk a virgin into bed, complete with then-girlfriend Britt Ekland cooing in French over the fade. The bravado fades immediately, however, with the faithful cover of Cat Stevens’ “The First Cut Is The Deepest”, probably the version Sheryl Crow knew best. “Fool For You” is similarly a hurt kiss-off to a jet-setting paramour, somewhat ironic given his growing reputation.

The fast side gets his own back right away with “The Balltrap”, a noisy and nasty putdown that really has us missing the Faces. The covers pile up from here; Manfred Mann’s “Pretty Flamingo” from over a decade before is yelled through, followed by the country rock nugget “Big Bayou”, which Ron Wood had just put on his most recent solo album, and “The Wild Side Of Life”, another country song covered by everyone back then; those tunes sound like Chuck Berry hijacked the sessions. The social commentary of “Trade Winds” goes completely against the concept of fast and slow sides, but echoes the effect of “Sailing” from the last album somewhat.

The fans Rod would have in this period of history would certainly count A Night On The Town among his best, and would likely welcome the expanded edition, which tacks a B-side onto the main program, and includes an alternate working version of the album on a second disc with some other extras. But as we’ve said too many times, this isn’t the guy we came to appreciate.

Eagle-eyed readers will have noticed that we have yet to discuss a particular track, the one that closes side one. We’ve been saving it for its own paragraph, because even after all these years, there are few songs as unexpected and wholly moving as “The Killing Of Georgie (Part I and II)”. This is an incredibly simple song musically, while the lyrics consist of the barest biography of a friend who happened to be gay, and was murdered on a New York City street, possibly because of this fact. With the economy of Bob Dylan and absolutely no histrionics, the story is told straightforward with no false emotion. Even the seemingly tossed-off “doo-doot doo” that passes as a chorus can’t deflate this. (“Part II” of the song is a slower lament sung like a chant, to the tune of the Beatles’ “Don’t Let Me Down”. That’s probably why the complete track, over six minutes, was released as a single.)

Rod would have plenty more chances to be silly over the following decades, and take his brand all the way to the bank. He wouldn’t always be worth the effort, but an out-of-the-blue instance like “The Killing Of Georgie” is enough to remind us that, good lord, was he really good when he really wanted to be.

Rod Stewart A Night On The Town (1976)—3
2009 Deluxe Edition: same as 1976, plus 15 extra tracks