Love (The Beatles, 2006)

Watching the Cirque de Soleil show Love was an interesting experience because I was basically watching a soundtrack being performed live before my eyes. I must have listened to Love about a hundred times prior to seeing the show in Las Vegas, so it was like I knew every remixed, mashed-up note of the soundtrack going into the venue.

I've mentioned before that I really do not like cover versions of Beatles songs, even by artists I really enjoy. That Grammy tribute to the Beatles? Skipped it. However Love isn't covers, it's mash-ups and created by the hands of father-son duo George and Giles Martin. Between the studio albums and all of the outtakes of the Anthologies, they had more than enough material to assemble the mother of all mash-up albums. Other than a few bird noises on the opening track, "Because", and a new string section to prop up the Anthology version of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps", it's entirely Beatles recordings.

Most of the song selections favor the post-Revolver era, but that isn't surprising as they were probably logging 100 times more studio time than in first half of their recording career. Primarily because of the show itself, but also likely because of the "gapless" album the band helped pioneer, the songs generally flow from one to the next with no substantial breaks, at least not silent ones. Also, many of the songs are edited down a bridge or a verse to accommodate the length of the CD. This is about the only thing that threw me when watching the show was a few extended areas and a couple "new" tracks, as they weren't limited to the running time of a CD.

As far as individual song impressions, there are a few truly outstanding moments:

• The explosive "Get Back"/"Glass Onion" combo really draws in the listener.
• The transition from "I Am the Walrus" to "I Want to Hold Your Hand" makes my hair stand on end (in a good way).
• The "Drive My Car" section throws so many different song elements together it truly becomes a force unto itself. More cowbell? Please!
• Tacking a little "Helter Skelter" to the end of "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite" now makes me afraid of the circus.
• "Strawberry Fields Forever" is sheer brilliance, just for mixing together the earlier versions from Anthology 2; the coda is pure gravy.
• Eric Clapton can now say he played on "Lady Madonna".
• They managed to make "Come Together" even eerier thanks to Paul's ghostly coda to "Cry Baby Cry".
• The transition from "Hey Jude" to the "Sgt. Pepper" reprise with the isolated horns and count-in is really cool.

A Session With the Remains (1966)

Some albums are recorded under the influence of drugs and this is one of them. The drug in this case is caffeine. The first seven tracks are, in a word, explosive, a revved up Kinks/Yardbirds styled set, all covers except for one of their recent hit songs. The remaining (no pun intended) six tracks are various demos of songs that would appear on their one "official" album, Barry and the Remains, also from 1966.

The Remains were one of those bands that really should have made it, but never quite did. Most people may know them from their two Nuggets tracks, "Why Do I Cry" and "Don't Look Back". Guitarist/singer Barry Tashian was the driving force behind the band, handling pretty much all the leads. His vocals sound like a hybrid of Mick Jagger and John Lennon spun with an American accent. Probably the closest the Remains got to hitting it big was opening for the Beatles on part of the their last American tour, but they seem to have imploded before 1966 was done. The band members would appear in small roles in unlikely places in the following years, like Great Speckled Bird, Mountain, and the Flying Burrito Brothers. Thanks to renewing interest in the band during the 1990's (this "lost" session came to light in 1996), the band reunited and even toured and released a new album. I'm not sure the band knew they would be all the rage circa 2005 back when they did their original recordings, but who cares, more power to them.

Incidentally, in doing the research on this piece, it looks like original drummer Chip Damiani passed away last week, so it seems unusually fitting that the Remains popped up on the radar today, even if his successor, N.D. Smart, was on the stool for most of these tracks.

Sacred Heart (Dio, 1985)

When you have a formula that works, keep using it until it doesn't. That appeared to be the template for Dio in the early 1980's. Following the near-fatal split of Black Sabbath into two factions, Dio (the band) was born. While Black Sabbath floundered in 1983 with a poorly produced album fronted by the unsteady (yet secretly brilliant) Ian Gillan, Dio (the man - let's use RJD to clear up any confusion) put together a rock solid new band featuring his ally from Black Sabbath, Vinny Appice, his old bass player from Rainbow's heyday, Jimmy Bain, and largely untested NWOBHM guitarist Vivian Campbell. Their first fruits, the album Holy Diver, remains a personal and critical favorite to this day, probably one of the finest metal albums of the entire decade. Needless to say, you don't just stop or change direction when you strike gold, you keep digging.

The Last In Line is nearly as good as its predecessor, but not quite. There are enough die-hards out there that will actually think of this as a refinement of Holy Diver, but in a side-by-side comparison, every track is just a little less than its counterpart from the previous album. Nevertheless it worked out sales-wise, which leads us to the next reiteration of the formula, Sacred Heart.

Following the release of their third album it was clear the band would either need a hiatus or a reconfiguration to refresh and recharge. Although it's not a bad album (their 1990's output is more challenging), the 1980's were increasingly taking their toll on the band. I'm of the mostly-unpopular belief that the 1980's were a musically weak decade and even bands that seemed to be above the scene seemed to trend toward a more processed, synthesized sound as the decade wore on. Indeed, Sacred Heart is probably the most eighties-sounding of the four albums from that decade. If I were compiling a career-retrospective, I would probably include the title track and "Rock 'N Roll Children" but I can pretty much get by in life without having the rest on speed dial.

As expected, the dissolution of the band began following this album. First to go was Vivian Campbell. He would end up briefly in Whitesnake before lending his services to a certain hearing-impaired feline, where he remains to this day. Although he and RJD had a well-publicized and unresolved feud, for some reason he still has warm fuzzy feelings for his days in Dio, even reuniting with the old lineup (with a new singer, of course) to perform as the tribute band Last In Line (which apparently debuted in my old hometown of Fullerton). Bain and Appice stuck around for 1987's Dream Evil, with new guitarist Craig Goldy, then Dio jettisoned the entire group and started fresh with Lock Up The Wolves in 1990. The "new" Dio was a non-starter and by 1992 RJD was back in Black Sabbath. Although recognized as a veritable statesman of metal, he wouldn't again reach the lofty heights of the 1980's, especially not anything recorded by Dio. However the quasi-reunion of Black Sabbath entitled Heaven And Hell (to avoid confusion with the slow-moving Ozzy reunion era) showed that RJD still commanded a great deal of respect and his death in 2010 was felt around the metal world. RIP RJD.

Clifford Brown & Max Roach (1955)

The drive to work this morning was made all the better by the classic bop of Brown, Roach and their quintet. In fact, once at work, I delved right into their other album, Study In Brown, then meandered into some early and late Miles Davis and wrapped up with some Wayne Shorter and Freddie Hubbard. It was definitely a jazz type of day. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Max Roach, one of Ginger Baker's favorite drummers (Art Blakey and Elvin Jones being the others) enjoyed a very long career, and, unlike many jazz drummers, frequently served as combo leader. Clifford Brown, however, is a total jazz tragedy, dying in a 1956 car crash along with pianist Richie Powell. Between drugs, murder, and car crashes, I shudder to think what the average lifespan of a jazz musician was, especially back in the heyday of bop. Oddly enough, Harold Land is a well-known name is prog rock circles, thanks to being the title of one of the track off the first Yes album!

Psychedelic Experience, Vol. 1 (Various Artists, 1996)

Welcome to the world of obscure psych compilations. I discovered Volume 2 of this series many years ago and it took me a while to even locate a copy. Apparently Mystic Records in Sweden has a hard time competing with Interscope on these shores. It was such an obscure comp that even the resident music czar at the bookstore I was working at had never heard a single track before, and he was in his teens/20's when all this stuff came out. It never felt right to have just Volume 2, so I began my search for Volume 1. I finally found it, but man it was hard. First there is some other trance/techno series with the same name and even Amazon can't keep them straight. Finally some kind soul posted a link to the music files for the comp and my mission was accomplished. To be clear, I only do this as a last resort, and this was most definitely a last resort situation!

Volume 1 is a little different. First, there are little snippets of some unnamed song extolling/dreading the effects of LSD on the mind, as well as little spoken word testimonials, one of which sounds like Judy Garland, circa 1939. Did I mention this was weird? The tracks are all over the map, with a little more garage-sounding stuff than Volume 2, plus a few obviously-1970's tracks which sound out of place. The most kick-butt track on here is "Get On This Plane" by the Premiers, which runs circles around their Nuggets track "Farmer John". Also very good is a track by the Brass Toads, who are so obscure I know nothing about them except that they are from Texas.

This is definitely not an introductory set. My foray into Volume 2 didn't not get me interested in garage/psych compilations. I needed Nuggets and the aforementioned Instant Garage comp to give me a proper introduction. Now I'm all about the Dose series, Garage Beat '66, Psychedelic States, and Green Crystal Ties, and rapidly moving toward Back From the Grave, Pebbles, Rubble, and Trash. That's right, Trash. For the true connoisseur!

Names On The Land [Revised/Enlarged ed.] (George R. Stewart, 1958)

This past weekend I finished up the classic work of place names in the United States, Names On the Land, by George R. Stewart. Even though the revised version is over 50 years old it is filled with incredible information. Thankfully the New York Review of Books has brought it back into print, but it's a book you can typically find at larger public libraries. Hopefully the copy you find isn't as thrashed as mine!

I've been looking ahead and I'm very excited about some of the books I have lined up to read. Again, it's looking like a great year for books!

Mojo Music Guide, Vol. 1: Instant Garage (Various Artists, 2003)

I don't know if the compiler feels the same way, but this collection is brilliant. And the best part is that it was free with the purchase of a British music magazine which I've long since jettisoned.

What do I love about this compilation? It just caught me at the right time. It was pretty much my first foray into the garage/psych scene, which is not something that should be taken lightly. It can be easy to get sucked into a compilation so obscure that the listener walks away confused. On the other hand, you don't want to be stuck at a Time-Life 1960's series compilation level, trying to pick your way through Motown and other movements to find the garage songs. Finally (on neither hand, I suppose) you want a compilation of the actual era, not all derivatives, though a few tastefully chosen cuts of those so influenced by the movement is probably fine.

With all of that in mind, here's the three-pronged approach to this compilation: (1) essential garage tracks, (2) a few bands/songs clearly influenced by the garage scene, and (3) enough obscure track to make you want to keep digging. Falling into section 1: The Electric Prunes, The Sonics, Love, The Count Five, The Wailers, Paul Revere & the Raiders, and The Amboy Dukes. Section 2 would include: the MC5, The New York Dolls, The Modern Lovers, and The Ramones. These eleven artists help guide the listener to sixteen other tracks firmly in the lower tiers of the garage scene. Since there is a lot to choose from at this level, plus the compilation is essentially a marketing tool for other comps, a lot of the tracks feature lesser-known artists from the Pacific Northwest scene, which is probably one of the finest local scenes to explore. Another neat surprise is an incredibly lo-fi recording by Iggy Pop's old band The Iguanas.

One track stands alone, which is the Kinks' sendup of "Milk Cow Blues". I don't really consider the Kinks themselves to have been a garage band, but their influence is undeniable.

Abraxas (Santana, 1970)

As a Bay Area native, it was just a given that I heard a lot of Santana on the radio. In fact, I probably heard so much I didn't feel any strong motivation to buy an album since all I had to do was turn on the radio. I'm sure the success of Supernatural about 15 years back didn't hurt matters. Suddenly Carlos Santana was rubbing shoulders with the Backstreet Boys on Top 40 radio, something I don't think anyone was thinking of back in 1970.

This got me to thinking, just how the heck did Abraxas get so rooted into classic rock heavy rotation? The album is nearly half instrumentals and more often than not if you hear words being sung, they are in Spanish. In fact there are only two original songs that fit into the model of stand-alone rock song of the period. I guess it's just the luck of the times that this album came out in the post-Woodstock glow. Frankly this is a much more honest album than a megahit like Supernatural, but without the radio-ready production and guest stars, this would have been lost in the shuffle. So I'm thankful for 1970, a time when a recording like this got the respect it deserved.

Incidentally, this album got a little bit more attention in the Coen brothers' movie A Serious Man, when somehow they were able to get this album from a mail-order service....in 1967. Knowing the Coen brothers, this was no gaffe, but that's another discussion.

Hot Shots II (The Beta Band, 2001)

Back in 2000 a bunch of us at the bookstore were huge Beta Band fans. We all knew about them before they got their big name drop in the movie High Fidelity thanks to college radio and word of mouth. We were such crazy fans that we even liked their first full album, the much-maligned (by the Beta Band themselves) self-titled release from 1999. The promises were thick in the air that this album would be far better. Even the band was assuring fans that this new album would blow away its predecessor. We couldn't wait!

Move to the new year. Disappointed. I don't want to say that Hot Shots II is crappy, but it's far more calculated than the previous album, and far less charming. It felt like in their attempt to make amends for the first album (which they didn't have to do), they drained all the fun out of what made all their previous material so much fun. Admittedly the first album was a mess (listen to the "Beta Band Rap" opening track and you pretty much know what you're getting yourself into), but it had some kind of inexplicable electrifying charm, something that had carried over from the critically-lauded collection of their first three EP's from the 1990's. The songs on this album tend to hold a more consistent electronica-lite sound from song to song, as opposed to the "let's combine bubblegum and gansta rap over samples from the Black Hole movie" attitude that dominated up to this point.

As time went on, things improved, both for my feelings about this album as well as the direction of the band. 2004's Heroes to Zeros was a far stronger outing. Meanwhile, I finally gave poor Hot Shots II another chance. Admittedly it's a "grower" which improves with each listening. It's still my least favorite of the batch, but I've come to appreciate the intricate structuring of the songs, most of which hold to under five minutes. I'm listening to "Alleged" right now and I have to admit it's a really beautiful song. Unfortunately for the band, the continued lack of success finally drove the band to dissolution around 2005. The two major successor bands are the Aliens (which themselves seem to have vanished, alas!) and the numerous projects hatched from the warped mind of Steve Mason. Reunion? Can't say that's going to happen anytime soon.

Other People's Lives (Ray Davies, 2006)

2006 continues! Of course, Ray Davies has been around a little longer than Muse, but until this album he had never released a proper solo album. Two years prior to the album, Ray was shot in the leg in New Orleans following an attempted mugging. Later in the year his brother suffered a stroke. So Ray had issues, to say the least, and channeled the feeling into this album. The result is a sold singer-songwriter effort, not interested in launching or riding any musical trends, but wryly documenting a world gone a little bit wonky. He also manages to make it sound as un-Kinks as possible, though in the interest of full disclosure I haven't heard a Kinks song released after 1984, nor a full album of Kinks songs released after 1973. I appreciate that Ray wisely avoids dragging his solo albums out to the 75+ minute mark just because a CD can hold that much music. Too often artists will compensate for lost time by releasing unnecessarily long albums, which tire the ears by the final tracks.

If you like this one, the following album, 2007's Workingman's Cafe, is also worth tracking down. Like its predecessor, it won't whisk you back to the glory days of the Kinks. In 2010, he released See My Friends, in which is collaborated with various famous artists (Bruce Springsteen, Metallica, and more) on re-recordings of classic Kinks songs. That one is not quite as satisfying, even though it's nice to know Ray is a "well respected man" in the world of musicians.

Black Holes and Revelations (Muse, 2006)

I remember listening to KROQ in the mornings (passively; it was more my wife's thing) and usually being underwhelmed by what passed for "modern rock", not to mention it seemed like they never grew tired of Nirvana, even fifteen years after their heyday. Every now and then something good sneaked into the playlist, like Queens of the Stone Age or the White Stripes. Generally what made these bands stand out was their lo-fi approach to music, usually delivered in three minutes or less. This is what makes Muse so strange: their first big hit stateside ("Knights of Cydonia", oddly the longest track of the entire album) was six minutes of highly-produced bombastic awesome. Right away I thought "holy $%&*! they finally went prog!"

Not entirely true. Muse didn't really represent or launch any sort of new space rock or progressive movement, but they were about as close as the record industry would let them get to that pariah genre. The track listing looks like the chapter names of a science fiction epic. My gut reaction is that it sounds a lot like Queen recorded a space rock opera using the most modern/futuristic equipment they could get their hands on. About the only thing lacking in the vision is some epic guitar solos, which the band seems to generally avoid (epic trumpet solos, however, are in play).

I really don't follow Muse anymore. The following album, The Resistance, was decent but nothing special, and I haven't made any effort to pick up anything else. I still haven't heard the earlier albums. Maybe they are more worth my time. Who knows?

Candy-O (The Cars, 1979)

The Cars are not the easiest band to classify. They aren't new wave or punk, nor are they purely rock and roll. The band came out of nowhere around 1977, with only drummer David Robinson having any claim to their musical ancestors. As time went on they became a mainstay of 1980's pop, but at the time of their second album, Candy-O, the Cars were very much in the midst of an identity crisis. Each band member brought their own style: Ric Ocasek and Ben Orr traded sweet and sour vocals, Eliot Easton laid down classic rock guitar riffs, Greg Hawkes added new-wavey splashes of synth, and Robinson was stamped his beat on to each track. In many ways, Candy-O is a refinement of their landmark first album, but it doesn't get anywhere near the level of airplay. Even the Cars themselves shied away from giving the album any representation on their original greatest hits package from 1986, including only the opener, "Let's Go". That's too bad, because just about every track here gives the first album a run for its money. Even the weird connecting track "Shoo Be Doo" is this strange missing link that makes the album flow from "Double Life" to the title track.

Candy-O was one of the last Cars album I acquired. I started early on (high school!) with the first album, Panorama, Door to Door and Shake It Up. I think I was too nervous about what my parents would say about the cover to go after this one! If you can get past the cover art (or can't get enough of it!) this makes a good second pick, following the first album. Panorama is a little tepid and a poor starting point, Heartbeat City and Shake It Up are uneven between big hits and filler, and Door to Door just isn't that good.

However if you consider yourself a good Cars fan, the reunion album Move Like This is surprisingly good. Also surprising is that they even did a reunion album. There was a lot of post-breakup acrimony that made me put the band near the bottom of any list of "likely to reunite" bands. Even around 2000 they still seemed annoyed with each other, as shows in the bonus features of a DVD they released around that time. The death of Orr pushed them even lower on the list. With Easton's involvement in Credence Clearwater Revisted, Ocasek's transformation into a big-time producer, and quasi-reunions (the "new" Cars) with Todd Rundgren, the 2011 full-fledged reunion was indeed a shocker.

Minstrel In The Gallery (Jethro Tull, 1975)

Jethro Tull is well represented in my library. I went on a buying tear in college, starting with the classic era (Benefit through Thick as a Brick) then working back to the early stuff. With some trepidation, I then moved on to the mid-1970's, a more musically challenging time for the band. Like a few other bands explored here, Jethro Tull was initially part of the British blues boom, but rapidly moved out of that scene in the 1970's. It's not to say there isn't anything bluesy here, but it's pretty far removed from the purists. On top of that, since Thick as a Brick, almost every album, this one included, has some level of extra-length song.

This is about the point where I ran out of gas, though. By the time I got to the following album, I stopped. I still haven't moved past 1976. I'm not sure if it's just me, but the band sounded increasingly exhausted with each album. I've read enough about the history of the band to know that it underwent a lineup cataclysm around 1980 which ushered in yet another musical era, but those sounds are even more alien to me than their late-1970's output.

Nevertheless, as I listen to this album again with fuller concentration, I feel a renewed interest in at long last moving forward. I'm not sure where to go, though. There's still a lot of Jethro Tull to choose from!

The Argent Anthology (1976)

Once again, we revisit Argent, this time in convenient anthology form. This is a great collection if you have maybe heard either "Hold Your Head Up" or "God Gave Rock and Roll To You" and you thought they were pretty cool songs and wanted to get a little taste of the band. And I must emphasize the term "little" as this collection is only eight songs, making it shorter than most of the band's regular albums, even without bonus tracks. Also, you don't get anything post-Russ Ballard, which is probably fine for the casual listener, but not acceptable for the diehards. Currently, only the last track, a live version of "Time of the Season" is unique to my collection. Of course, if I get Encore, the live album, then there is nothing special about the disc.

All in all I can't take issue with any of the selections here. It's a fine overview. It's a little slanted toward the Russ Ballard material, but he was most of the "hit" writer than Rod Argent. Again, if you have actually invested in any of the regular Argent albums, you can probably skip this one.

Velvet Underground & Nico (1967)

The project here is strictly random. It's not my favorite albums of all time and it's not the rest of the world's favorite albums. It's just a free-form exploration of the music I've collected over the past 25 years or so.

The Velvet Underground & Nico ("The Banana Album") is of course one of those albums that is heralded as way ahead of its time, groundbreaking, revolutionary, etc. and so forth. However it seems odd that an album with such accolades seems to be absent from the "classic rock" canon. In fact is wasn't until the late 1970's that anyone influential was saying this was a great album. I didn't even hear the album (except for "Heroin") until about ten years ago and only added the album to my library a couple years ago. I think it's an acquired taste, but one well worth being patient enough to acquire. Well, in all fairness, I'm still trying to figure out Nico.

The combination of Lou Reed's chugging rhythm, John Cale's avant-garde tendencies and the mysterious role of Andy Warhol led to a combination too unstable to last. After this album, Warhol was out (along with Nico), and John Cale was gone after the following album, White Light/White Heat. Eventually the band lost all of its original membership (track down the album Squeeze if you dare), then evaporated entirely.

There are a few versions floating around out there, so I spent most of my Saturday exploring the Deluxe edition, which gives you both the stereo and mono mixes of the original 11 track album, plus the five tracks of Nico's EP Chelsea Girl, plus four single edits of the most radio-friendly tracks, which I'm sure were about as alien as Frank Zappa tracks on 1967 radio. But it never hurts to try!

The Prince (Niccolo Machiavelli, 1532), Under the Eagle (Simon Scarrow, 2000), Sounds of the Beast (Ian Christe, 2003)

I've been lame about updating my reading progress. So far three books are now in the "done" column for February.

I had already just about finished it in January, but Machiavelli's The Prince was done as of the first of the month. It was on my to-read list for a long time, I think because of its frequent references in Thomas Cahill's Mysteries of the Middle Ages, which I read way back in the day. It's pretty much what you would expect from a guy with the reputation of...well...Machiavelli. I also realized my understanding of 16th century Italian history could use some improvement to help with the context of appreciating the work. However the classic references were no problem!

Speaking of classical, I went back into a little bit of historical fiction with Simon Scarrow's Under the Eagle, the first of 13 books in a series that follows the adventures of two Roman army officers. Unlike some other authors I've read, Scarrow seems to have a good handle on his historical facts. The action sequences were very exciting, if a little chaotic in writing style. The British lingo was a little distracting, but if I wanted to be really authentic, I would have probably insisted they speak Latin. Finally, a little pet peeve: why do so many of these series take place in Britain? The place was a complete backwater in Roman times. I tend to prefer series that hover close the the political intrigue of Rome itself.

To bring us up to date on what I've been reading, I just completed Ian Christe's Sounds of the Beast. The "complete headbanging history of heavy metal" seems overly concerned with Metallica's musical progression, but I'm willing to chalk that up to the honored tradition of tacking to one subject to illustrate a trend. Plus it would be naive to think that one 400 page book could say everything there is to say about metal. Personally, I would have spent more time with the roots than with grindcore/rap metal. However, I have to hand it to him, he hit upon pretty much all the subgenres. Except swing metal.

Book number 8 is already in progress and I've got 9 and 10 in my sights. It's going to be a good year in the reading department!

The Greater Of Two Evils (Anthrax, 2004)

Generally when a band sets out to re-do their old hits it sounds pretty awful. Even the bands I respect, like Deep Purple and Iron Maiden, released truly wooden renditions of their old hits. Then you have terrible business decisions, like Ozzy Osbourne's senseless re-recording of the rhythm section of his first two solo albums. For some reason, Anthrax is able to buck the trend and release an entire album of rejuvenated hits...and it works!

My history with Anthrax is downright spotty. In fact, adding this to my old post from last month, this is all I've got. I dabbled a bit in high school, but never really made an effort to comprehensively collect their albums. For one thing at the time they were moving into the John Bush era, which for some reason I felt was a bad move. Now that I'm listening to this (featuring all pre-Sound of White Noise songs) I'm thinking "Joey who?" and "Dan who?" Perhaps I was a bit too unkind, but in the era of the "new" Metallica, all of the old 1980's metal bands were suspect. In fact, if a friend hadn't given me a copy of this album, I would have had no idea they sounded this good.

It would appear that after a prolonged identity crisis, the band finally figured out what works, even if they couldn't hold together the "classic" lineup throughout. Since the release of 2003's We've Come For You All, they seem to be back where they should have been all along. What makes it even more impressive is that unlike other bands that need a stable lineup to sound stable, Anthrax can flip guitarists and vocalists around and still sound great.

I'm throwing Among the Living in my shopping basket right now. Just like Metallica's Death Magnetic, you've won me back after all these years.

No Prayer For The Dying (Iron Maiden, 1990)

New 1990's Eddie busts out of the grave into a nightmare decade!

This is our third visit to the world of Iron Maiden, but the first studio album. No Prayer for the Dying marked a period of time where the band sounded aimless and the musical culture of the times was overtly hostile to the classic metal of Iron Maiden.

The 1990's were a harsh decade for Iron Maiden. The band made a number of decisions following the departure of guitarist Adrian Smith that would send them into a tailspin. First was the hiring of new guitarist Janick Gers. Now, I don't think Gers is a crappy guitarist like some Maiden-diehards like to say. In fact, he's done far more good than bad in his career and his work with Gillan in the early 1980's was excellent. However, the Murray/Smith dual guitar approach was transformed into a double-down on the wild side. Where Smith was the old steady hand, Gers came in as the wild man, putting Dave Murray into the unusual role of being the less flashy guitar player. Second problem was the decision to get "back to basics". This is a totally different kind of "back to basics" than previously mentioned (see Black Sabbath's 13). Instead the approach is more to strip out the "wimpy" keyboards and adopt a gruffer posturing. Finally, in the "gruff" department, Bruce Dickinson, the air raid siren himself, scaled back the trademark soaring vocals for a more growled delivery. All of these elements added up to a less-than-satisfying album.

This was the last Iron Maiden album I bought of the first ten. I had heard enough bad things about it to just stay away. When the 1995 reissues hit, with the bonus disc of b-side content, I finally took the plunge. In hindsight, sure it's no Seventh Son or Powerslave. It actually has some very good tracks on its first side, but then sort of sputters at the end. Also, as the power of nostalgia for bands from the heyday of Iron Maiden continues to grow, I've actually have grown a little affection for the album, especially the angry-yet-happy sounding "Holy Smoke" and the title track. Also, three of the bonus tracks are very well done (sorry, "Communication Breakdown" falls a little short).

This album remains the most "unloved" of the Iron Maiden back catalog, except maybe for the two Blaze Bayley albums. 1992's Fear of the Dark has enough fan favorites buried in the filler to prop up its reputation higher than its predecessor. With 2000's Brave New World, another "back to basics" approach, but with smart progressive sensibilities and production, the previous four albums could finally be written off as a "bad patch" in the band's history. In fact, no song from this album has appeared on a tour setlist since 1993. Maybe someday they'll surprise everyone and bust out the awkwardly-titled "Public Enema Number One" - I'd love to see the faces of the kiddies on that one!

Updated cover below - notice the poor gravedigger man is gone.

A Lethal Dose of Hard Psych (Various Artists, 1999)

The comps continue to reign here! If you've heard of any of the 23 bands represented here, you probably listened to way too much (good) music in the late 1960's.

The garage/psych scene in the USA was a kind of laboratory of all sorts of music pouring in and strange arrangements pouring out. In the garages of America, bands were attempted to weld Jingle Bells, James Brown and the Byrds into the next big hit. There's a common misconception that these bands were a bunch of lo-fi hipsters, actively shunning modern technology and abhorring fame. Not true! Numerous survivors of the scene have gone on record to say that what you hear is all they could afford. If a copy of ProTools was zapped into their garage from the future, they would have adopted it in a flash. As weird as some of the material is in this compilation, all of these bands were cutting singles to make it big. No vanity projects because there was no money or time for that sort of thing. Consequently, when the fame didn't arrive immediately following the release of the single, life intervened and most of these bands folded for good.

I consider myself lucky I even found a home state for these bands: Changin' Tymes (Tennessee), Flower Power (Florida), The Dutch Masters (Arkansas), Tom Dae Turned On (Connecticut), The Cardboard Box (Pennsylvania?), The Crystal Rain (Ohio), The Inner Light (North Dakota?), Mammoth (Texas), Lazy Nickels (Michigan).
The Light from California's Inland Empire released a single through A&M Records, while Catfish Knight & the Blue Express was on Verve, especially impressive considering their the only group here that is a total geographical mystery.
I was only able to piece together a little info on the following, mostly from comments left in response to various blog spots: The Bondsmen, The Si-Dells (both North Carolina, shared band members), Zoser (Minnesota...I think?), The Sound System (North Carolina), Haymarket Riot (Michigan).
Adam (New Jersey) has connections to the Balloon Farm, Sir Lord Baltimore, and (very loosely) Bruce Springsteen. Must be a N. J. thing.
These bands have actual websites of varying quality and size: The Aardvarks (Missouri), Factree (Ontario), The Legend/Dragonfly (Colorado), Lovechain (Ohio), Enoch Smoky (Iowa) has a Facebook page and appears to be the only band here still active - wow!, and Mind Garage (West Virginia) is considered one of the earliest Christian Rock bands, though you would never know it from this song.

Garage Hangover and 45cat were very helpful in getting info on these bands. Good job Internet!

Eric Burdon Declares WAR (Eric Burdon & War, 1970)

Hoo boy, Eric Burdon was (and still is) a crazy guy. Even as far back as 1964's "The Story of Bo Diddley" Eric was showing the world he was a different kind of front man in the British R&B explosion, different than the Beatles, Mick Jagger, Ray Davies, Roger Daltrey, Keith Relf or any of those other wannabes.

In 1966 he took a hard left turn, first singing a clutch of Randy Newman songs backed by an orchestra, then reconfiguring this old band into a psychedelic group which tackled subjects like peace, love, Jimi Hendrix, the Black Plague and the history of music. He burned through the psych era pretty quickly and disbanded the "new" Animals officially at the top of 1969 following the release of Love Is. Other than "Sky Pilot" and the violin drenched cover of "Paint It Black", the hits were receding into the past very quickly and it seems like Eric was going to fizzle away as he entered the 1970's.

Surprise, surprise. He wasn't done yet. Not quite. The two albums he did with War represent the perfect cross of a 1960's legend with an up and coming 1970's phenomenon. The results are...strange. There are only five songs on their first album together. The opening track is pure Eric paying homage to Roland Kirk and (again) the history of music, naming checking Jelly Roll Morton and Charlie Parker ("Winds of Change" part two, anybody?). Next is the most bizarre version of "Tobacco Road" you will ever hear. Back in 1966 the Blues Magoos added a freakout bridge to the song. Not to be outdone, Eric added the whole weird dream sequence where he's playing a game of cosmic "Deal or No Deal" with some deity and right at the last second (spoiler alert!) decides the crappy life depicted in "Tobacco Road" is preferable to martyrdom to escape the misery. Following this is the big hit Eric had been thirsting for: "Spill the Wine". I'm sure you've heard that one. War takes over for the most part on the track "Blues for Memphis Slim", a multi-part mini-suite that would foreshadow many releases to come. Finally, the coda, "You're No Stranger" is mainly a gong played forward and backward before going into a little ditty that reminds me of the vocals passages of Pharoah Sanders' "The Creator Has a Master Plan", only shorter. Much shorter.

Following this album, Eric had every reason to believe he had been born again musically, this time into War, but the corporate powers had different plans. Not able to see any synthesis between the two, the suits split them into two labels. Stuck on the weaker MGM label, Eric floundered throughout the 1970's. Even the reunion of the original Animals mid-decade did not bring back the good times. Meanwhile, War slammed their way through the 1970's and continue on to this day (albeit with numerous lineup changes).

A few years back I saw Eric down at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano. While he did the set sitting down and mainly stuck to the old Animals hits, he remained a formidable frontman. Although he did a lot of crazy stuff that probably hurt the bottom line (money, alas), it seems a shame that he never returned to the lofty heights of the days of the Animals and War.

Get Shorty Soundtrack (Various Artists, 1995)

My soundtrack collection is downright weird, mostly because I only have ones I got for free. Hence they all either came from the college radio era of my life or I snagged them as promo copies while working for Borders. In fact Get Shorty is an oddity among my soundtracks in that I actually saw the movie.

I guess Get Shorty was one of the better movies of the mid-1990's, where everyone was trying to create the next Pulp Fiction. All I can remember is thinking it was rather ho-hum, but that was so long ago I may need to watch it again and revise my opinion.

As for the soundtrack itself, it's a hybrid approach. It features original numbers by jack-of-all-trades John Lurie with incidental titles (e.g. "Chili at Airport"), most of which riff around the opening track by Us3. The song "Stink" often shows up in TV ads and movie previews. Counterbalancing these songs is a jazz rock mix of Morphine, Booker T & the MG's, MMW and Greyboy. Together they make for a mean mix tape. I suspect many folks (like myself, circa 1996) picked this up (via BMG Music Club as a poor college student) because it was the only way at the time to hear the weird track "Bo's Veranda" by Morphine.

Soundtracks are basically glorified mix tapes, but I still like this one.

Glow in the Dark Soul (Spectacle, 1998)

The week is moving quickly and I'm already behind, so I'm keeping things brief. Spectacle is yet another flash-in-the-pan band I discovered via college radio in 1998 (see Arnold and the Naildrivers for more on this). Although it suffers from a little bit of filler in places, plus the dreaded "let's try everything and see what works" problem, it's a nice album and I'm sorry they didn't release anything else. I dig the trumpet accompaniments on a few of the tracks and there are a few tight pop songs that really fit the breathy vocals well. However I wouldn't feel too bad for the individual members that made up Spectacle as they would mostly go on to play in much longer-lived groups, though I've never heard of any of them (Further, Medicine, Beachwood Sparks, Moving Units). Oddly enough, this album was the only one that received a major label release. Like I said, flash in the pan!

Heaven Forbid (Blue Oyster Cult, 1998)

On paper this album seems destined to fail. An aging metal band, a chaotic recent history, outside writers, and other elements usually don't result in a successful album. Surprisingly this is actually a good album with a lot of heft. The opening songs are very strong and even though the album loses cohesion near the end, the good outweighs the band. The lyrics are kind of strange, but we can chalk that up to the reputation of the band and the work of sci-fi writer John Shirley on lyrics. Another fun fact is that both living Rainbow drummers appear on the album.

As much as I enjoy this album, it's not really a comeback album, as they've only released one additional album since and that was back in 2001. Also, the death of longtime keyboard player Alan Lanier in 2013 probably did not help matters. Nevertheless Eric Bloom, Buck Dharma and company continue to troop on. Don't fear the reaper!

My Favorite Things (John Coltrane, 1961)

(Program note: My random selection tried to repeat the Allman Brothers Band's first album, so I gave the randomizer another spin.)

When we last left Coltrane, he was doing his time in the Thelonius Monk Quartet. Since then he rejoined Miles Davis long enough to record a mildly successful album (!) and launched his solo career in earnest. There are probably four "essential" Coltrane solo albums: Blue Train, Giant Steps, A Love Supreme and this one. Of the four, this is the one where Trane takes on the standards.

His take on the title track is legendary, and he's man enough to tackle it with a soprano sax. All I could think about is how if somebody asked me how the song went, I would probably just hum the part that Trane plays with for about eleven minutes. Yet it never gets boring or repetitive, which is the real magic behind the song. The other songs are pleasant enough, though through Coltrane's increasing frantic interpretations, less recognizable than other version.

And with that, let the weekend begin!

Tchaikovsky: Symphonies 4-6 (Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra/Evgeny Mravinsky, 1960)

Grim...grimmer...grimmest. The final three Tchaikovsky symphonies. These symphonies are DARK.

Probably not the best listening choice for the drive in, as the quiet parts were getting drowned out by the sound of my tires splashing through the wet streets.

I'm not sure my ear has developed enough to fully appreciate the Romantic era composers. It's not that I hate the music, but there is just so much going on that I kind of want to go back to the relatively simplicity of Bach or Mozart. Hopefully as I continue to listen and pour out random thoughts things will develop further.

I'm still in a holding pattern on my classical music collecting. In addition to Tchaikovsky, I still feel I need some more time to study and bond with the music before expanding further, otherwise everything gets all confused in my mind. I've got plenty of time.

The Best of the Beast (Iron Maiden, 1996)

I love Iron Maiden, but this is a pretty useless compilation. What makes it notable it was the first "Best Of" compilation the band released. Unfortunately it was at one of the lowest points in their history, right between the two Blaze Bayley-era albums. The bonus track is the incredibly dour "Virus" which is only notable for the unusual two-guitarist credit (crazily enough no song ever had more than one guitarist credited as a composer). The version I have is the budget-issue single disc version, so I didn't get the old Soundhouse recordings that came as an extra-special bonus for getting the deluxe edition. I just couldn't bring myself to get the deluxe edition because of the reverse-chronological listing of songs I already owned. For some reason, listening to music in reverse-chronological order is somewhat jarring to my senses. Maybe it's just me, but I certainly don't feel like kicking things off which stuff from the worst album, groping my way to the golden days and finally back in the womb of the early years. The budget version mixes things up a bit, but if you like the old Paul Di'Anno stuff, forget it. Except for a live "Running Free" with Bruce at the helm, the first two albums are unrepresented here.

Since then, Iron Maiden has release six additional compilations, with only one (the best of the B-sides) not being a "Best Of". This puts the compilations in serious competition with the live albums for the honor of most-overloaded. I've heard good stuff about some of the later live albums, particularly Rock In Rio, but I don't have the kind of cash needed to scoop them all up, so I'll just stick to the studio stuff and avoid the comps unless they have something special to offer.

S.F. Sorrow (The Pretty Things, 1968)

As previously mentioned, the British blues boom of the late 1960's sent bands off in all musical directions in the following years. The preceding "R&B" movement that emerged from bands following the standard of the Rolling Stones wasn't all that different. The Pretty Things started life as a R&B outfit with Dick Taylor on lead guitar, and making it clear this was his true calling, not playing bass for the Rolling Stones (his old job). The band played grittier and truer than most of their peers, so it seems weird that just a few years later they had transformed into an expansively psychedelic band.

The move wasn't overnight. Their first two albums were firmly entrenched in R&B territory and even the third album was more psych in its choice of album cover than musically. However each album expanded on the previous and the addition of Beach Boys inspired new members John Povey and Wally Waller added a sweetness to Phil May's raw vocals. With the last minute addition of new drummer Twink (who's past and future resume is very impressive), the band was about to take it to the next level.

S.F. Sorrow is not just a sonically advanced album in vocals and instrumentation, but it is also one of the very first concept albums in rock history. It's a little difficult to follow because there is some narration that never made it to the recorded album. It's one of the saddest stories you'll ever experience, dealing with death, loneliness, and despair. Nevertheless the band pours their collective heart into the album, putting forth the best work of their career. Between the ambitious singles "Defecting Grey" and "Walking Through My Dreams (usually found as bonus tracks) and the album itself, this would surely put the Pretty Things in the rock pantheon of the Stones, Beatles, Who and Kinks...

It didn't. To do all of this and fail commercially was just too much for the band's ability to continue and with Taylor's departure the band fell apart. Yet, various band members were able to rebuild a couple years later to release another fantastic album, Parachute, before promptly re-disbanding. The Pretty Things weren't done, however. The band reassembled yet again and released a trio of hard rock albums, but when May quit the band and the number of original members went to zero, it looked like they really had reached the end. Inexplicably, the band reunited again in the early 80's, this time bringing back Taylor and a strangely new wave sound. Since then the band has come and gone, touring and releasing albums sporadically, and still missing their breakthrough album, although time has been very kind to their early material, making them one of the most respected bands of the 1960's. I heartily recommend any of their album up to and including Parachute, but if you want a good starting point, this is it.

Definitely What! (Brian Auger & The Trinity, 1968)

Apparently the Beatles cannot be stopped, though we're going undercover this morning. This album kicks off with a Gil Evans-esque cover of the Beatles' "A Day in the Life" which is pretty weird. I'm generally of the mind that Beatles songs are best left to the Beatles. Most cover versions, even by artists I like, can sound pretty wretched (don't even get me started on the I Am Sam soundtrack...gag). I'd actually prefer to listen to the Rutles instead.

This album is all over the map. In addition to Gil Evans style orchestration, there are some David Axelrod sounding parts and the title track tips the hat to the likes of Roland Kirk in full experimentation mode.

I can't say I'm much of an Auger fan, but I probably didn't start in the right place. In fact, I'm listening to his 70's output (the "Oblivion Express" era) and it's some pretty slamming stuff.

Let It Be...Naked (The Beatles, 2003)

Let It Be has always been the "problem child" of the Beatles catalog. The intended follow-up to the White Album collapsed into a heap of unfocused random material that was ultimately abandoned. Then, in 1970, the mess was reassembled like Frankenstein's monster by Phil Spector into the canon version of Let It Be that we all know today. The weird mish-mash of live chatter and lush orchestration pleased just about nobody.

I remember the surge of expectations when they announced the "fixed" Let It Be. Would they put "Across the Universe" back at its original speed? Would anyone miss the orchestra dubs? What about the "ditties" like "Dig It" and "Maggie Mae"? Perhaps longer versions? Well, in true Let It Be fashion, Let It Be...Naked was another version of the album that left everyone feeling a little cold.

First the good. We get a lot more Billy Preston and a lot less (actually none?) of the Phil Spector Orchestra. John Lennon no longer sounds like a zombie on "Across the Universe" but the new version still pales to the "wildlife" version. Also, the sequencing of the tracks is somewhat more suitable. Although I've always been fond of "Two of Us" as an opening track, "Get Back" is as good an opener as any. And why not close with "Let It Be"? The original positioning was sort of an attack on Paul, sandwiching it between the two goofiest songs on the album.

Unfortunately with all of the orchestra stuff removed was the fun studio chatter (Paul's other pet peeve about the album). The problem is that the chatter-enhanced versions of many of the songs is what people most fondly recall about the album. It seemed kind of strange to not hear the false start to "Dig a Pony", for instance. It also robs the album of it's half-hearted claim to be a snapshot of a "new-era Beatles" showing off a "live performance". True, they do give us the bonus disc "Fly on the Wall" (where the "goofy" songs got placed) but it's just not the same.

Supposedly there's yet another version floating around in bootleg world called Get Back, which hews closer to the old Emerick recordings. Also the third of the Anthology series gave us plenty of outtake material to feast over. However, the world is still waiting for the version of Let It Be that makes everyone happy.

Cosmic Slop (Funkadelic, 1973)

The world probably doesn't need my total-outsider take on the world of P-Funk, so just a few fun facts:

(1) I picked up a few Funkadelic albums from doing a fair amount a CD swapping with a co-worker a few years ago. Thanks to him I have stuff like this and the Groundhogs (see a couple days ago) in my music library.
(2) Amazingly there is no song over 10 minutes on this album.
(3) Most of the lyrical content and euphemisms went completely over my head. Generally I'm just a music listener and I love the music and was wondering "why didn't these guys get the same kind of respect as Led Zeppelin and all those other 70's bands??" And then it comes back around to the lyrics and I think it was just too much for contemporary (read: predominantly white) audiences and the effect of that has continued to isolate Funkadelic from more mainstream bands even today for no good reason. They were way ahead of their time. I was listening to "March to the Witch's Castle" and thinking it would have made a good heavy metal song.

So the third point got kind of wordy, but there you have it. Late night observations on the funk.