Elvis Costello 28: El Mocambo and Hollywood High

Shortly before the worldwide release of his second album, Elvis and his recently acquired Attractions performed a fast ‘n sweaty gig at the same Toronto club that had featured the Rolling Stones just a year before. Live At The El Mocambo was then released as a promo album, and promptly bootlegged.

It’s a great snapshot of the band on their second North American tour, plowing through songs familiar and unfamiliar to a rowdy club crowd. You can hear Elvis baiting the audience, demanding repeatedly that they “stand up”. The songs have been transformed from their guises on My Aim Is True into a sound all their own. “Less Than Zero” even gets a new set of lyrics to reflect the mistaken assumption that the Oswald in the song was the surname of Lee Harvey.

Some fifteen years later, it got its first official release, somewhat, as part of a box set on Rykodisc, alongside his first three albums. (Those buying the three individually could collect coupons from each and get their copy that way.) In a packaging decision sure to excite those of us who notice such things, the title was listed on the spine and the disc itself as Live At El Mocambo.

When Rhino got a hold of the catalog in 2000, the album was pointedly left out, with the exception of “Less Than Zero” being added to My Aim Is True, making the Ryko version a collector’s item. Then, at the end of the decade, Hip-O’s version of the catalog initially eschewed any kind of bonus tracks on the albums, except for the Deluxe Editions of the first two albums. Two years after those landed with a resounding thud, the label initiated a series of standalone live albums under the banner “The Costello Show”. The first release? Live At The El Mocambo, complete with the missing article restored to the spine.

Much more interesting was the second installment in the series, which arrived a few months later. Live At Hollywood High presented the full concert that had previously been a bonus EP in the original Armed Forces package. Those three tracks were included on the Ryko reissue, expanded to nine songs on the Rhino version. In the absence of a Deluxe Edition of Armed Forces, for which this would have been a strong candidate, at least they found a way to let us hear the whole thing.

Starting with a piano-and-vocal performance of the recently written “Accidents Will Happen”, the band gallops into place for “Mystery Dance”. Only three months after the El Mocambo performance, there have already been changes to the set. Working versions of “Goon Squad” and “Party Girl” are already pretty tight, and a very non-country take of “Stranger In The House” adds some more variety. And of course, it’s nice to have an Attractions version of “Alison”. Overall, the performance is tighter—and probably more sober—than in Toronto, with Elvis interacting with a giddy high school crowd.

It’s a good show, but admittedly, overkill, as it makes a total of three concert releases covering the same three-month period. It was a good start, but the “Costello Show” live series did not continue past these two.

Elvis Costello & The Attractions Live At The El Mocambo (1978)—3½
Elvis Costello & The Attractions Live At Hollywood High (2010)—4

George Harrison 15: Concert For George

A year to the day after George died, his “guitarist-in-law” Eric Clapton collaborated with Olivia and Dhani Harrison to put together a star-studded tribute concert. The obvious parallel would be made to the Concert For Bangla Desh, as many of the friends who’d helped out with that project were on hand to do it again here.

The first half hour—taking up all of disc one—is devoted to Indian music, mostly composed by Ravi Shankar, performed by an orchestra and choir led by Ravi’s daughter Anoushka. An interlude of “The Inner Light” sung by Jeff Lynne fits very well, while the final section includes acoustic extrapolations by Eric. It’s mesmerizing. (Not included on the CD, but presented in full on the DVD, was the intermission, featuring “Sit On My Face” and “The Lumberjack Song” performed by most of Monty Python in full singing-waiter and Mountie costumes. Without question, George would have loved it.)

The rock portion of the show provides heartfelt renditions of several George songs, mostly performed faithfully to the original recordings. Jeff, Eric, Gary Brooker and the little-known-to-Americans Joe Brown trade off on vocals before the big stars come in. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers do “Taxman” and “I Need You”, and bring Dhani and Jeff up for “Handle With Care”. Billy Preston does “Isn’t It A Pity”, then Ringo comes out to sing “Honey Don’t” and “Photograph” before introducing Paul McCartney.

Paul’s choices are intriguing, as they mostly come from the Get Back period. His ukulele arrangement of “Something” dovetails not seamlessly into the standard version, led by a Clapton solo. And his heartfelt rendition of “All Things Must Pass” is a stunner, considering how many times George tried to get the Beatles to learn it, only to be met with indifference. He sits at the piano to back up Eric on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, before letting Billy take over with “My Sweet Lord”. Everyone crowds onstage for “Wah-Wah” (with Klaus Voormann on bass!) and then Joe Brown brings his ukulele out one last time.

While a straight tribute album, George’s voice comes through every moment of this concert. The choice of songs also shows how much his lesser-known tracks meant to his friends. To get the full experience, watch the DVD—the love all these people had for the guy permeates every shot. There are several angles taken of drummers Jim Keltner, Henry Spinetti and Ringo working as one. And with handsome Dhani strumming away on an acoustic throughout, it’s not easy to be unmoved.

Concert For George (2003)—4

Bob Dylan 41: Time Out Of Mind

Seven whole years had passed since the last real Dylan album. In contemporary interviews, Bob said that for the longest time he just didn’t feel like writing songs, then was suddenly able to come up with a batch while being snowed in. Then he was hesitant to play them on tour for fear of having them bootlegged, and wanted to do them justice in the studio as well. So he spent a few weeks in Miami recording with some of his then-current touring band, a few session hotshots including the stalwart Jim Keltner, and Daniel Lanois, who produced Oh Mercy, and the album was in the can.

Naturally, there was a certain amount of anticipation and absolute fear upon the announcement that something new was finally on the way; meanwhile, the news of a potentially fatal heart ailment between recording and release brought decent PR to the event. Anyway, we needn’t have worried.

Of the eleven phenomenal tracks that make up Time Out Of Mind, half are based around the 12-bar blues form. Most deal with some unnamed woman (or women) who broke Bob’s heart in a big way, and boy, is he miffed about it. The production is pretty swampy, slapping a lot of echo over his voice, which was pretty shot anyway; he doesn’t try to hit any high notes, which in the past resulted in a lot of yelling on his part.

A quiet stomp and a bleating Vox organ opens “Love Sick”, taken very slow and sounding like he’s transmitting from Mars. A little more upbeat, “Dirt Road Blues” effectively emulates an old 78 but still maintains the spooky vibe. The album’s first masterpiece is “Standing In The Doorway”, another slow, slow song with wonderful imagery, each verse more heartbreaking than the last. “Million Miles” continues the blues theme, his voice a perfect match for the words, and we start to hear some of the dad jokes that will begin to pepper his lyrics (“gonna find me a janitor to sweep me off my feet”). “Tryin’ To Get To Heaven” provides a nice break in the form of a major key and a memorable melody that belies the fatalistic words; there’s even a harmonica solo. “‘Til I Fell In Love With You” doesn’t take hold as easily, but there’s some incredible imagery here. “Not Dark Yet” could be taken as another rumination on his own mortality, played in a style that links well to the better songs on Oh Mercy.

That’s practically a full album right there, but we’ve got a ways to go. The trip to hell continues on the downright scary “Cold Irons Bound”—that’s meant as praise, by the way—with the atmosphere dominated by Augie Myers on the Vox organ, to which the extra-gentle “Make You Feel My Love” provides welcome calm. While beaten to the charts in versions by both Billy Joel and Garth Brooks, this one, with Bob up front on piano, is still the template. “Can’t Wait” is another blues taken at a funereal pace, but keep an ear out for a killer two-line bridge. That’s a mere setup for the fascinating 17-minute journey of “Highlands”, which closes the album. The first few verses could be a song on their own, but he throws in a shout-out to Neil Young, then ends up in a restaurant sparring with a waitress over art and literature. (And really, how could it be that any eatery “ain’t got any” hard boiled eggs?) The final set of verses could qualify as a separate song too.

We knew he could do it again, and we’re glad he did. Basically, he waited until he had something to say, then said it. It went on to win a few Grammys, and even staunch Dylan haters were overheard saying it’s not that bad an album. Time Out Of Mind heralded a new era for a man who insisted he hadn’t gone away in the slightest. He’d had an actual near-death experience, and he was still out there—just a simple song and dance man.

While some of the outtakes were featured on the eighth Bootleg Series volume, the album eventually got its own installment in the series, kinda sorta in honor of its 25th anniversary. One disc of Fragments was devoted to a new mix of the album that stripped away some of the sonics Lanois took credit for to bring out more of the room, while another offered outtakes and alternates, starting with a lovely take on “The Water Is Wide” and the sadly shelved “Red River Shore”. “Can’t Wait” has a more melodic guitar part and different lyrics, and the spontaneous applause at the end of “Make You Feel My Love” is just charming. There’s yet another version of “Mississippi” that comes closest to the version he’d finally nail, and other songs with more upbeat arrangements than what was released.

That was fine, but a deluxe version added three more discs. One devoted to live versions—some from actual audience tapes, as befits a “bootleg series”—presented each of the album’s songs, mostly in the original track order, with “Can’t Wait” used twice because “Dirt Road Blues” has apparently never made it to the stage and “Mississippi” included just because. Further outtakes and alternates included an intriguing but still inferior “Dreamin’ Of You”, another “Marchin’ To The City”, “‘Til I Fell In Love With You” played as a samba, and “Can’t Wait” notable for a surprising Dylan yelp before the first verse. Most controversially, a fifth disc repeated the session outtakes and two live versions already included on that earlier Bootleg Series set. This wasn’t even done covertly—it was highlighted on the sticker on the shrinkwrap. Still, they fill in the bigger picture, even with multiple takes stacked together. (Also, each disc was packed nearly to capacity, each exceeding 70 minutes.)

Bob Dylan Time Out Of Mind (1997)—5
Bob Dylan Fragments: Time Out Of Mind Sessions (1996-1997)/The Bootleg Series Vol. 17 (2023)—4

Robyn Hitchcock 8: Globe Of Frogs

His buzz was growing, so when Robyn signed with A&M Records, he was able to capitalize on their college marketing approach. Globe Of Frogs is where a lot of fans came in, thanks to the radio exposure of “Balloon Man”—possibly his greatest hit, if he had one.

“Tropical Flesh Mandala” stumbles in, with a loopy riff, nearly spoken vocals and a decent chorus, going out on a chaotic piano solo. It’s immediately improved upon by “Vibrating”, proof that sometimes three chords are all you need. To this day “Balloon Man” is still lots of fun, a trippy walk around New York City encountering not just hummus but whole chickpeas as well. “Luminous Rose” inspires more Syd Barrett comparisons, built around what seems to be a harmonium and a story of dead sailors, flesh and fish. “Sleeping With Your Devil Mask” is another three-chord wonder, and a good stomping singalong.

“Unsettled” starts side two and gets pretty annoying after a while, but you can just hear a snippet of “Ghost Ship” at the end of it. The first of many appearances by Peter Buck, “Chinese Bones” is slathered in his 12-string guitar. Syd returns on “A Globe Of Frogs”, with the parlor piano and whispered double vocals. “The Shapes Between Us Turn Into Animals” is about as grating as the opening tracks on both sides, but all is redeemed by “Flesh Number One”. Subtitled “Beatle Dennis”, and for good reason, it’s such a happy tune about burning houses and crashing planes, framed by 12-strings and harmonies by Glenn Tilbrook. (Andy Metcalfe was moonlighting in Squeeze around this time, and as they were labelmates, the connection made sense.)

Globe Of Frogs is a very good effort, and gave him a sound he could settle into. (He’s also begun to talk about fish and flesh an awful lot, so if you’re going to keep going, get used to it.) Unfortunately, like the rest of the A&M catalog, it’s fallen out of print.

Robyn Hitchcock And The Egyptians Globe Of Frogs (1988)—4
Current CD availability: none

Rolling Stones 24: Love You Live

Another pattern developed with the Stones at this juncture of their career as superstars. From here on out, it would be a rare occasion where a studio album would be followed by another. Instead, they kept record racks filled with either a hits collection or a souvenir from their latest tour, the scope of which had almost certainly eclipsed its predecessor. The live album approach made sense, since most of their concerts got bootlegged anyway.

Love You Live was only their third official live album, culled mostly from a couple of dates over a long trek. It’s a double album, so they at least try to deliver. So what gives this album such a positive rating? Is it the Andy Warhol cover art, which depicts various Stones biting each other? (Saucy!) Is it the sound of fireworks bookending the performance? Could it be the grandeur of Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare For The Common Man”, used to herald the conquering heroes to the stage? Is it the selection of songs from their entire career to date, from “Get Off My Cloud” to “Fingerprint File”? Is it the meticulous way the tracks were overdubbed in the studio to rob them of their spontaneity? Is it Mick’s twixt-song patter in French, to the delight of the mostly Parisian audiences yelling along? No, what makes it special is side three.

Recorded at Toronto’s El Mocambo club the same week the law finally caught up with Keith, these four tracks present the Stones in an ideal setting: on a tiny stage pounding out old R&B favorites. Even the vocal encouragement of Billy Preston can’t dilute the energy in “Mannish Boy”, “Little Red Rooster”, “Around And Around” or the slightly reggaefied “Crackin’ Up”. It makes one wish they could play more shows like that, and then they could release more live albums like it.

Only 45 years later common sense prevailed, and El Mocambo 1977 presented a full show plus three songs from the night before on two CDs (or four LPs, your choice of black or multicolor vinyl, plus tie-in merch). From newer Black And Blue songs to old blues numbers from the Crawdaddy Club, the band is hot, and Keith is spot-on. Credit is due to Bob Clearmountain’s mix—Billy’s still there but not overpowering—and we find the overall sound superior to the cavernous atmosphere of Love You Live. Even the familiar songs are well-performed, though “Honky Tonk Women” and “Tumbling Dice” are a little slow. Surprises include a faithful “Fool To Cry”, “Let’s Spend The Night Together”, the old chestnut “Worried Life Blues”, a different “Red Rooster” from side three, a terrific “Rip This Joint”, “Melody” (not noted as “inspiration by Billy Preston”, and shame on them), a slightly draggy “Luxury”, and best of all, a preview of “Worried About You” four years before its eventual release on Tattoo You. (One maddening thing about the package—besides being yet another iteration of the tongue logo, there is not a single photo of Bill Wyman to be found.)

Meanwhile, back in 1977 the Stones were undoubtedly a big act, and were worthy of big productions. On that score, Love You Live served its purpose. The times, however, were starting to dictate otherwise.

The Rolling Stones Love You Live (1977)—3
The Rolling Stones El Mocambo 1977 (2022)—3½

Rolling Stones 23: Black And Blue

We might as well get this out of the way up front: Black And Blue shouldn’t be as good as it is. This transitional album took over a year to record, with a tour stuck in the middle. After all that time and drama, the album consists of eight songs of varying effectiveness that at least break the forty-minute mark. Part of this is due to the revolving cast. While Ron Wood is on the cover—one of the ugliest portraits of any band ever—he only plays on three songs; the others feature the work of American guitarists Wayne Perkins and Harvey Mandel. The track sheets reproduced on the inner sleeve spell out exactly who does what and where.

“Hot Stuff” turns a James Brown riff inside out while Mick tries to figure out if he wants to disco or reggae. “Hand Of Fate” is a more straightforward rocker in the Stones tradition with a fantastic solo played by—you guessed it—Wayne Perkins. Keith’s love of reggae takes over on “Cherry Oh Baby”; it would take a few more tries before he got the groove down and told Mick to stay out of the way. The pinnacle comes with “Memory Motel”, one of the band’s best songs. Based on pianos played by Mick and Keith, this tale of loneliness on the road never fails to pull a heartstring. They didn’t often duet, but Keith’s counterpoint on the verses and after each chorus establishes it as a favorite.

Things are just as schizophrenic on side two. After all the credits Mick Taylor got cheated out of, it must have irritated him no end to see “Hey Negrita”, a plodding Jagger/Richard composition, annotated with “inspiration by Ron Wood”. Ditto “Melody”, which gives a similar nod to Billy Preston, who probably did write the song. “Fool To Cry” was the single, anchored by more phased electric piano and driven by Mick’s ill-advised falsetto and lyrics lamenting his station in life between wives, children and mistresses. They hadn’t done a ballad in a while anyway. “Crazy Mama”—which sadly, has nothing to do with the Cloris Leachman film—ends the album with another blueprint rocker.

As transitional Stones albums go, Black And Blue is no Let It Bleed. But starting here, Ron Wood achieved a lifelong dream to become Keith’s shadow, and to Keith’s discredit, he went along with it. (Think about it: whenever Woody’s around Rod Stewart, he thinks he’s Rod Stewart, and when he’s around Keith, he thinks he’s Keith.) While we’re happy Keith had someone to hang out with, we don’t listen to Stones albums for Ron Wood, we listen for Keith. Nonetheless, he’s here to stay. And then some.

The Rolling Stones Black And Blue (1976)—3½

Tom Petty 19: Mojo

Obviously invigorated by both the Mudcrutch experience and his recent trip through the vaults, Tom decided to take a direct approach for only the second Heartbreakers album since the turn of the century. Mojo sounds like nothing else in his catalog, and that can be taken any way you want.

Right off the bat “Jefferson Jericho Blues” sports a heavy harmonica riff over fairly standard changes. Then “First Flash Of Freedom” delivers chords that wouldn’t sound out of place on an Allman Brothers album, taken to the extreme on the solo section with dueling guitars and organ swells. The soul groove continues on “Running Man’s Bible”, with a classic Petty chorus sure to please concertgoers. “The Trip To Pirate’s Cove” (sadly, not a Hardy Boys homage) is a little more gentle, but still tries to add some mystery early on in the proceedings. Unfortunately, “Candy” isn’t very exciting, with stereotypical blues sentiments repeated over a fairly staid rhythm. “No Reason To Cry” is a definite step up, and a very gentle change of pace.

The volume goes up again on “I Should Have Known It”, an excellent rocker with a snaky riff, pounding drums, a wonderfully snotty vocal and a double-time section. It barely fades away before “U.S. 41” comes in with more country blues. “Takin’ My Time” is pretty plodding until Mike Campbell takes his first solo, and the tightness of the band reveals itself. “Let Yourself Go” borrows the feel of “Spike” from Southern Accents, speeds it up a bit, and throws some different dirt on it.

“Don’t Pull Me Over” has something of a reggae beat, and a fairly direct plea to highway patrolmen, but we wonder when was the last time he would have had to deal with highway patrolmen directly. “Lover’s Touch” brings back something of an Allman vibe, and more of a ‘70s sound frames “High In The Morning”. “Something Good Coming” is quiet, but sounds more like typical Petty. And they end with a bang on “Good Enough”, a minor key waltz anchored by a dramatic guitar and a story about a girl.

Petty said Mojo was written under the influence of old blues records, and for the most part, it shows. The liner notes helpfully detail when each song was recorded and with which instruments. The three heaviest (read: best) tracks are co-written by Mike Campbell, who spends most of the album playing a vintage Les Paul, and it still sounds just like him. The snare doesn’t quite pop enough for our taste; perhaps the vinyl edition has more bite. Ultimately, the album’s a little long, and he’s just not that convincing as a blues man.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Mojo (2010)—2½