Robyn Hitchcock 10: Eye

Perhaps because it didn’t involve the Egyptians, Eye was released not on A&M but on Twin-Tone, the Minneapolis label best known for introducing the world to the likes of the Replacements, the Jayhawks and Soul Asylum. As we’d come to expect from an album with predominantly dark green artwork, it’s largely solo and acoustic—just like I Often Dream Of Trains—and practically flawless.

“Cynthia Mask” starts out prettily enough with just a guitar, then the voice, then the piano, setting the tone for what is to follow over the next hour or so. The first couple of verses could be described as political, but the chorus sends it all somewhere else. “Certainly Clickot” isn’t the best follow-up, though the instrumental interludes are quite nice. “Queen Elvis”, the title track that never was, appears twice (on the CD, anyway); the first is more straightforward, giving plenty of room for the vocal. “Flesh Cartoons” is a wonder in three chords, right up to the “looney-oh” ending. “Chinese Water Python” was his first instrumental in a long time and very pleasant at that. “Executioner” shows his amazing skill at holding those long high notes. It’s an angry one, and he wasn’t even at Live Aid. “Linctus House” is a comforting change, following a windy narrative through chisels and flesh hotels. (The CD added three tracks here: “Sweet Ghost Of Light” is a spooky little number sung in a higher register, while “College Of Ice” is a baroque duet for piano and electric guitar, and goes nicely into “Transparent Lover”.)

Things start to pick up with “Beautiful Girl”, much better than it deserves to be, simple as it is start to finish. The harmonies are killer. “Raining Twilight Coast” is another Lennonesque rant with the great line “just one thing, baby, you forgot my heart”; the rest of the lines probably keep it from becoming a standard. “Clean Steve” is a mineral man, obviously, another wacky, winding, namedropping song with the piano playing bass. “Agony Of Pleasure” is about a picnic or sex or both, and somehow he manages to get his vocal around those chords. “Glass Hotel” provides another respite from the shouting in the previous three. “Satellite” is more Lennon and Barrett with just the right amount of piano and the back of a guitar for percussion. “Aquarium” starts out mysteriously enough, then goes somewhere entirely different for the middle, and ends up somewhere else. The spidery guitar lines make the song. The spookier electric take of “Queen Elvis” closes the CD, different enough from the first version, and makes for a nice bookend.

The above may seem a pretty brief rundown, but here, the music speaks for itself. Each of the tracks deserves a paragraph on its own, and we just haven’t enough space at the moment. Eye sits together nicely and is a great way to kill an hour—or more, if you leave it in the player. It is perhaps Robyn’s most underrated album, and one of the most underrated albums of 1990. (In addition to those extra tracks not on the vinyl or cassette, Rhino’s reissue also added some demo versions of the songs, none of which were included on the Yep Roc reissue, which instead included some more acoustic songs of dubious origin. At least they fit sonically with the album proper.)

Robyn Hitchcock Eye (1990)—5
1990 CD: same as 1990, plus 4 extra tracks
1995 Rhino reissue: same as 1990 CD, plus 3 extra tracks
2007 Yep Roc: same as 1990, plus 7 extra tracks

Rolling Stones 29: Still Life

Another tour, another live album. With Still Life—culled from the wildly successful tour in support of Tattoo You—the rejuvenated Stones established themselves as businessmen for the ‘80s, putting style over substance. Running a mere forty minutes, the album captures neither the excitement of Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out! nor the breadth of even Love You Live.

For the most part the album sticks to upbeat rockers, starting with “Under My Thumb”, and only slowing down for a half-decent revival of “Time Is On My Side”. Four of the songs are covers, including two not otherwise released by the Stones: “Going To A Go-Go”, originally made famous by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles and which was a single, and Eddie Cochran’s “Twenty Flight Rock”, taken at top speed.

The overall sound is good, and it should be, considering that Bob Clearmountain mixed it and Mick spent two months with him in the studio performing edits and overdubs. The bass leaps out of the mix, as do the occasional keyboards (sometimes Ian Stewart, but usually Ian McLagan). The opening snatch of “Take The ‘A’ Train” and closing fade on Hendrix’s “Star Spangled Banner” are an attempt to emulate the actual concert experience, along with having the sequence mirror the songs’ places in the setlist. But in the end, Still Life is simply product in an increasingly predictable pattern.

The tour’s stature was preserved eventually, when Hampton Coliseum (Live 1981) became the band’s second official bootleg. This initially download-only release serves up a complete show from the end of the American leg, a performance original broadcast as a pay-per-view TV event, with a couple of the songs included on Still Life. It’s a more authentic representation of the tour, and a pretty good show to boot (sorry), with no edits or overdubs. The wheels don’t start to come off until “Satisfaction”, and that’s only the last song. After two hours non-stop, it can be forgiven. (It was soon followed by a show recorded seven months later, at their last gig of the European leg, their last concert for seven years, and the final appearance of Ian Stewart. Despite having a nearly identical setlist to Hampton Coliseum, this one approaches blasphemy by daring to call itself Live At Leeds. Both were eventually released in stores, coupled with the video content on DVD; the latter's title was wisely adjusted to Live In Leeds.)

The Rolling Stones Still Life (American Concert 1981) (1982)—2½
Rolling Stones Hampton Coliseum (Live 1981) (2012)—3½
Rolling Stones Live At Leeds—Roundhay Park 1982 (2012)—3

Pink Floyd 5: Atom Heart Mother

Pink Floyd certainly couldn’t be faulted for trying. Much of their earlier work had stretched on stage, and now they were ready for something even more daring. How about an extended work with orchestra and choir to fill up an album side? Sounds great, right? That was indeed the piece that gave Atom Heart Mother its title, if not the cover photo.

The suite is divided into six parts, mostly based around a basic theme for brass. The piece builds and calms, with solos on organ and cello, melding seamlessly into a wordless choral section. Ten minutes in, a typical Floyd “funk jam” takes over for five minutes, augmented by choir, and tumbling into another four minutes of electronic effects and much stumbling about in the studio. The piece culminates with a restatement of the main theme, bringing everything full circle.

For those with less patience, the second side is mostly simpler songs, something of an extension of the “solo” work on Ummagumma. “If” is another Roger Waters folk song, gentle on the surface but disturbed underneath. “Summer ‘68” is a pop song from Rick Wright, beginning pleasantly but also fraught with tension and punctuated by brass. David Gilmour is still trying to find his quiet voice on “Fat Old Sun”, his nerves redeemed by a great slow fade under his guitar solo. Most critics (and some fans) howled with derision at “Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast”, wherein one of the band’s roadies can be heard preparing and eating bacon and cereal, gulping some kind of beverage, chewing with his mouth open and adding occasional commentary. Underneath, the band plays a few variations on some pleasant Floydian melodies.

Atom Heart Mother doesn’t get a lot of respect, for many of the reasons listed above. With the exception of the three songs on side two, it’s not an easy listen, and takes a lot of patience. But if you can dig through the experiments, which few other bands would consider attempting (and why would they?), you’ll be rewarded with some excellent music.

Pink Floyd Atom Heart Mother (1970)—3½

Syd Barrett: Crazy Diamond

Whether or not he was really truly an acid casualty, Syd Barrett’s stilted potential has been the cause of much debate since his virtual disappearance from the music scene. He left a fairly finite set of completed (read: recorded) songs behind, and it’s likely that if anything else of value were out there, it would have been discovered by now. As it is, his body of work is a matter of personal taste, and in some cases needs to be taken within a certain context.

Despite having kicked him out of the band, the other members of Pink Floyd felt a certain responsibility for Syd, not least making sure his royalty checks kept arriving. When he went back to the studio to record his own albums, they were on hand to help out, along with some other musical friends.

The Madcap Laughs contains some catchy songs mixed with more chaotic tracks and some mesmerizing if sad acoustic performances of demo quality. In most cases, Syd played and sang by himself, and the tracks were augmented by the likes of David Gilmour, Roger Waters, Jerry Shirley of Humble Pie and three guys from Soft Machine, who did their best to accompany Syd’s prerecorded idiosyncrasies.

The opening “Terrapin” is the slowest song he’d put his name to yet, an easy lope that doesn’t predict the more chaotic “No Good Trying”. “Love You” is catchier but still nutty, as is the rhythmically challenged “No Man’s Land”. “Dark Globe” is good enough to leave simple, while “Here I Go” is utterly charming. Even with the acoustic guitar driving it, “Octopus” is a decent Floyd coulda-been, and his casting of the rare James Joyce poem “Golden Hair” is very inspired. The mild menace of “Long Gone” leads into the stretch from “She Took A Long Cold Look” through “Feel” and “If It’s In You”, depicting the sounds of a man barely able to keep up with himself. That leaves only “Late Night” to spin towards an uncertain end.

Soon after the release of The Madcap Laughs, Syd was back in the studio, this time with Gilmour and Rick Wright, plus Jerry Shirley on drums. Together they tried to work more quickly and cohesively, and sometimes it works. As a whole Barrett is a bit heavier, but some of the whimsy has been lost in the process.

“Baby Lemonade” is another excellent opener, and “Love Song” has a lot of Wright’s fingerprints on it, just as “Dominoes” benefits from the jam. But “It Is Obvious”, “Rats”, and “Maisie” are aimless, each of the latter using just a single chord. “Gigolo Aunt” has gained enough status to become a deserving favorite, then “Waving My Arms In The Air” and “I Never Lied To You” repeat the wandering of “It Is Obvious”. “Wined And Dined” isn’t quite finished, and “Wolfpack” is another challenging listen, leaving only “Effervescing Elephant” and its tuba to make us smile.

Despite occasional sightings and attempts, Syd’s musical career had all but finished before the band that left him behind achieved worldwide superstardom. But they were always quick to credit his influence, and the rerelease of his two solo albums in a single two-record set in 1974 kept his work on the shelves. The albums were duly issued on CD in the late ‘80s, and the new trend of vault-digging resulted in more product. His one solo BBC session—all five songs of it—was reissued several times, but Capitol, who owned the studio tapes, did their best to offer quantity and quality with Opel, an LP’s worth of alternates and even some outtakes, anchored by the soaring title track, which is one of his best. The other “new” songs range from early experiments (“Swan Lee” and “Lanky”) to acoustic studio demos (“Dolly Rocker”, “Word Song”, “Birdie Hop”, “Let’s Split”, “Milky Way”) which are mostly frustrating because they’re just not quite there. Still, it’s essential for the story, and sequenced well, ending with an early instrumental sketch of “Golden Hair”.

Since everybody got their own box set soon enough, Crazy Diamond offered The Madcap Laughs, Barrett, and Opel, each bolstered by several extras, mostly first takes with no overdubs. For more casual fans, the single-disc compilation Wouldn’t You Miss Me? delivered the cream of his solo work, plus “Two Of A Kind” from the BBC session and the long-rumored “Bob Dylan Blues”. To play it even safer, 2010’s An Introduction To Syd Barrett added six Floyd tracks, including an alternate of “Matilda Mother”, to a dozen remastered solo selections—some of which included new bass overdubs by Gilmour—plus a download of the unreleased twenty-minute “Rhamadan” jam.

Syd Barrett The Madcap Laughs (1970)—3½
Syd Barrett Barrett (1970)—2½
Syd Barrett Opel (1988)—3
Syd Barrett Crazy Diamond (1993)—3
Syd Barrett The Best of Syd Barrett: Wouldn’t You Miss Me? (2001)—4
Syd Barrett An Introduction To Syd Barrett (2010)—4

Robert Plant 5: Manic Nirvana

Having enjoyed touring with his new young guns, Robert set to work on a follow-up using the same formula. Manic Nirvana tried to prolong the appeal of Now And Zen, but he was starting to sound like a caricature. Which was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid all decade.

The first single, “Hurting Kind (I’ve Got My Eyes On You)” is an unfortunate cross between “Tall Cool One” and “The Look” by Roxette. “Big Love” and “SSS&Q” are just too boomy, the former sunk by the not-so-subtle references to the Mile-High Club. “I Cried” is a step in the right direction, layered with acoustic guitars and multiple “ah” vocals. But “Nirvana” goes a million places at once without finding its center.

Aging hippies were equally confused by the Wavy Gravy samples on “Tie Die On The Highway”, which otherwise takes its melody from “Slow Dancer” off Pictures At Eleven. Plant’s growing fascination with the music of his youth continues in “Your Ma Said You Cried In Your Sleep Last Night”, complete with sampled vinyl surface noise and lyrics from “Black Dog”. “Anniversary” could be a better song if it were redone without the synthesizers, but it works as a setup for the exceptional “Liars Dance”, a showcase for vocal and acoustic, the way it should be. But then the pounding drums of “Anniversary” continue on “Watching You”. And that’s it.

Generally Manic Nirvana rocked harder, but was less exciting than Now And Zen. (Like that album, the CD originally had an extra track in the middle of what was side one, while the current CD has three more—two originals, plus a cover of “Don’t Look Back” by the Remains, none very exciting.) Meanwhile, Jimmy Page was happy to join his old friend for some onstage photo-ops at that summer’s Knebworth festival, where they reclaimed “Wearing And Tearing” from obscurity—a nice setup for the box set in the fall, which would more than make up for the lackluster performance of Plant’s album.

Robert Plant Manic Nirvana (1990)—2½
2007 remastered CD: same as 1990 CD, plus 3 extra tracks

Jimmy Page 2: Outrider

Right around the time of Zeppelin’s disastrous appearance at the Atlantic Records 40th Anniversary concert, Jimmy Page released a solo album, his first such release if you don’t count the handful of singles from the mid-‘60s or the Death Wish II soundtrack.

Not about to start singing himself, Jimmy used Outrider as an opportunity to work with a hand-picked group of revolving musicians. Young Jason Bonham was one of those, and subsequently signed on for the tour. Of the vocalists, Robert Plant sang and co-wrote the best track, a rave-up called “The Only One”. But to get there, one must endure two songs howled by one John Miles (who also joined the tour). “Wasting My Time” has a decent riff, but the sound is tired by the time “Wanna Make Love” comes in. A pair of instrumentals, “Writes Of Winter” and “Liquid Mercury” bookend the Plant tune, wherein Jimmy shows his aptitude around time signatures.

Side two features the overblown vocal stylings of Page favorite Chris Farlowe. His “technique” takes most of the enjoyment out of Leon Russell’s “Hummingbird”, and “Prison Blues” is about as clichéd as you can get, making Jimmy’s fingered responses even more desperate. “Blues Anthem (If I Cannot Have Your Love…)” is more restrained, but colored by bad fake strings. Thankfully, the instrumental “Emerald Eyes” is nicely balanced between Page’s acoustic and electric strumming.

As with much of 1988, much of Outrider sounds bombastic and hurried, and while Jimmy’s timing was astute, his statement was inevitably overshadowed by Plant’s effort earlier that year. It was especially disappointing to hear that Jimmy’s original tapes, supposedly filled with two records’ worth of acoustic and blues tunes, went missing, leaving only what remained. Supposedly. As time goes on, it’s clear just how lost Jimmy was without Zeppelin, and without Robert, who’d joined that band as a novice, but would hold the keys after it was all done.

Jimmy Page Outrider (1988)—2

Robert Plant 4: Now And Zen

By 1988, hair metal had started to rear its ugly head and many young bands were unabashedly either proclaiming their love for Led Zeppelin or copping their sound outright. One of the key players in this was Whitesnake, whose leader David Coverdale would soon play a part in the Zeppelin story. Robert Plant took no flattery from Coverdale’s imitation, and said so in the various interviews he gave supporting his first album in almost three years.

Now And Zen was a hair better (sorry) than his last album. For one, he’d started writing actual songs again. He also picked up a young, hungry band willing to cross technique and technology, going so far as to digitally sample some of his old band’s riffs with finesse and affection on “Tall Call One”. A quarter-century later it just seems silly (and the uninitiated should avoid the video) but hearing those samples collide all over the ending is still pretty funny.

A few of the tunes even rock. The first single was the album opener; “Heaven Knows” was brought to Robert by the writers, and was the catalyst at getting the album rolling. “The Way I Feel” is a good driving song, with tasty Strat leads that sound like former bandmaster Robbie Blunt but aren’t. The inscrutable “Helen Of Troy” doesn’t offend, while “Ship Of Fools” is quiet enough for crowds to get out their lighters.

Not everything in between holds up. One of the better tracks is “Why”, which might have been a pop radio hit for anyone else, but here it just doesn’t sound like him. “Billy’s Revenge” is a rockabilly concoction that needs to go one way or the other instead of too long. “White, Clean And Neat” is failed attempt to evoke early-‘50s nostalgia via modern sounds, but personal enough for Robert to close the LP with it; the CD added the B-side “Walking Towards Paradise”. (The current CD adds three live “bootleg” tracks, recorded on subsequent tours. “Billy’s Revenge” and “Tall Cool One” are fairly straight, but the 1993 performance of “Ship Of Fools” is longer and moodier, showing his return to more exotic sounds.)

Now And Zen was a lot of fun at the time, and sales were helped by Jimmy Page on two tracks, prompting some anticipation for Jimmy’s own solo album later that year. And in addition to the Zeppelin references on the album, Robert even added some of his old band’s songs—and not even the obvious ones—to his repertoire on his tour.

Robert Plant Now And Zen (1988)—3
2007 remastered CD: same as 1988 CD, plus 3 extra tracks