Imagine (John Lennon, 1971)

I consider myself more of a Paul person in the whole John vs. Paul debate over who had the better solo career. I think it has to do with Paul being more the music person and John being the lyrics person, crossed with my own belief that if the music is good the lyrics can pretty much be anything. Plenty of folks will disagree with this and that's fine; it's just my own belief. I've read books about the Beatles that openly take sides (critic Philip Norman is shamelessly pro-Lennon, while legendary engineer Geoff Emerick could barely stand his eccentricities and sides with Paul).

Nevertheless, John has a profound simplicity in his approach that can pop, especially on songs like "Imagine" and "Jealous Guy", when he gets the musical accompaniment just right. John doesn't need the "Rockestra" to make an impact, just a piano, and there's something to be said for that. Unfortunately, he also has a tendency to sandwich these profound moments with musically goofy and/or synthetic numbers. It's akin to Paul's tendency to have a song with great lyrics ("Maybe I'm Amazed") surrounded by songs with the trademark "WTF/Huh??" lyrics he is often known for writing. I will say that I'm strongly enough of a Paul person that listening to "How Can You Sleep" (a verrrrrry thinly disguised tirade by John against his old Beatle chum) makes me feel really uncomfortable.

All of this said, I've got quite a bit more Paul McCartney solo stuff than John Lennon solo stuff. In fact, this is the only solo album by John that I have, but I'm working to remedy that. I know there is plenty more from John to like out there even if his output (even accounting for lifespans) is considerably less.

Ummagumma (Pink Floyd, 1969)

Ummagumma was an expensive proposition (those premium double-CD prices!) for this high school/college student fan of Pink Floyd, so I danced around it for years, not really giving it a proper listening until just a few years, when a friend was nice enough to loan it to me and I entered it into my music collective.

There are no big hits, no gotta-have-it tracks, nothing landmark. Disc one is the live four-song set of Floyd at their most aloof, space-rock, prog-centric best. Even the somewhat jaunty "Astronomy Domine" has turned into a ponderous meandering track. The standout of the set is closer, the title track from A Saucerful of Secrets, sporting some seriously uplifting vocals by Gilmour and a soaring bass line by Waters.

The studio section is even more detached from the ordinary, featuring an experimental approach to studio music where each band member takes the reins. As usually happens when the band lets the individuals call the shots (a time-honored tradition datable back to at least the White Album), you end up with a lot of weird stuff and no real consistency among songs. The band would try it again on Atom Heart Mother, with significantly more cohesive results.

Fun House (The Stooges, 1970)

Now this is a downright crazy album. Everybody now talks about how wonderfully influential the Stooges are/were to pretty much just about everyone and everything everywhere, but step back for a minute and think about the staggering amount of insanity and drugs went into this album, considering this was 1970, not 1980, 1990, 2000, 2010 or 2020.

The Stooges were one of a trio of very heavy bands to appear Stateside in the late 1960's (the others being Blue Cheer and the MC5) that were far too combustible to enjoy any kind of lengthy career. The Stooges probably released the most restrained debut of the three bands, but any sign of restraint is pretty well damaged during the first four songs of this album, then completely obliterated on the flip side.

After a song like "L.A. Blues" (which is four minutes of pure beautiful noise) where do you go? Nowhere, as it turns out as the Stooges would enter three years of paralysis before being re-invented with a minor lineup tweak for Raw Power as Iggy and the Stooges.

Forever Changes (Love, 1967)

Well, here it is, the actual Forever Changes. Hopefully all zero of my loyal readers have listened to my exhortations to drop everything and listen to this album back in an earlier post about the Forever Changes Concert.

Sometimes bands do their greatest work when they are pushed to the breaking point. The Zombies' Odessey and Oracle was recorded under the presumption the band would disintegrate immediately following its recording. The Pretty Things had already broken up prior to Parachute. In the case of Love, the band has finally shaken off its garage-rock roots, but was barely able to record anything cohesive. Just listen to the staggering number of takes being rattled off during a tracking session captured in the bonus tracks. Therefore, it wasn't all that surprising when primary songwriter/frontman Arthur Lee fired the entire band following this album, then recorded two more albums with a different "Love" to fulfill contractual obligations.

Forever Changes is definitely one of my favorite albums, a shoo-in for the "gallery of greats" and an album that demands to be listened to in one sitting, in track order. While it's a shame that the classic era of Love was extremely short-lived, they managed to put out three very different albums that chronicle the progression and maturation (and ultimately destruction) of a distinctly Los Angeles band.

British Steel (Judas Priest, 1980)

This is probably Priest's smartest album. Throughout the 1970's they were transforming from a denim-clad rock band into a leather-clad metal band. British Steel officially completes that transformation, the last progressive inclinations removed with the departure of Les "Beyond the Realms of Death" Binks.

Notice I say smartest and not best album. I'm inclined to reserve judgement as to which album should receive those hallowed accolades. British Steel pulls no punches. It's a taut mixture of huge hits, patriotism of the kind usually only heard in country music on this side of the ocean, and the foundations of a new style of metal that would ultimately scrub out of the older NWOBHM sound that Judas Priest grew up with. They also timed the transition perfectly, jumping off one musical trend right at the top and catching the next phase of metal progression at the ground floor.

The road to this album was quite unlikely. They were hardly unique in the early 1970's, when Black Sabbath was causing an entirely new scene to rise. Unlike their peers though they were not poached by the larger band, refusing to serve as the farm system for the big leaguers like Atomic Rooster, Deep Purple, Rainbow, and Uriah Heep (Black Sabbath themselves arrived a bit late to this particular shopping spree). In fact, they were among these bands by this time, lifting drummer Dave Holland from Trapeze shortly before cutting this album.

I've pretty much filled in the gaps in my early Judas Priest collection, with only first album Rocka Rolla still missing in action. In good time I'll continue to forge my way through the 1980's albums, which pack a lot more power, but lack the adventure of their early material.

The Night Circus (Erin Morgenstern, 2010)

I'm giving this one a solid 3.5. 4 stars as fantasy, 3 stars as literature.

This book makes for fine fantasy reading, but the publisher packaged it as "mainstream" fiction, which I think caused a bit of an uproar on Goodreads. This a vivid book, with plenty of lush circus descriptions and whoever wrote the ditty on the book flap should be commended because it sucked me right in. Let's start with the good stuff:

(1) The book reads really fast, in a good way. I genuinely wanted to know what was coming next, where the circus was going, what would happen to the various characters, and so forth.
(2) It has a cinematic feel. I was casting various characters in my brain and I wouldn't be surprised if some enterprising director and production company come along and make it into a "major motion picture" with tons of CGI and today's hottest young actors.
(3) There are some really interesting, quirky ideas here. Stuff like "midnight dinners" and a circus that doesn't advertise its whereabouts. Mysterious people in gray without names. Sometimes life can feel downright ordinary, so books like this let the reader have a little fun.

Now the bad:

(1) At times it felt like the author had been to too many sci-fi conventions and roleplaying games. Between the second-person interludes, the steampunkish Victorian fashion statements, and every character rocking an awesome name, it seemed a bit too surreal.
(2) The magic was out of control, considering the book was advertising itself more as quirky historical fiction than fantasy. Honestly, Harry Potter has more restrained magic than this book. Also there was a little too much red meat for the Twi-hards being thrown around between the main characters.
(3) There is so much description of color in this book it's like a paint store exploded. To a point it works (see my "cinematic" remark above) but the whole black-white-red thing started to feel more like a stylized faux-Victorian cult than a tool to advance the narrative.

The verdict: read this as fantasy, skewed a little to the YA crowd, and you'll probably be just fine with the book.

Spiritual Unity (Albert Ayler Trio, 1964)

You can pretty much throw out everything you know about jazz when you listen to this very brisk album. Unlike a number of artists who evolved into the sound, Ayler was pretty much born in it. His major progression was in moving to Sweden and developing more of a rapport with the Euro-jazz scene.

As I have previously noted, jazz musicians tend to die young and in unusual ways. Ayler took his own life at age 34, jumping off a ferry boat in front of Liberty Island. The other two members of the trio are still around, but mostly retired, Sunny Murray recording for assorted avant-garde labels and Gary Peacock firmly in the ECM camp.

Atom Heart Mother (Pink Floyd, 1970)

Atom Heart Mother, without a doubt, is the most bovine of Pink Floyd albums. Combining a band in the midst of their "wandering" years with the classical/rock music mashup craze of the time resulted in some mighty strange product.

The album consists of five songs, two of which are very long and strange and sandwich the other three. The "Atom Heart Mother Suite" is a ridiculously long track, with ample orchestration grafted on to the band's meandering twenty-plus minute jam. "If" is Roger Waters in fine microscopic form, with none of the grandiosity we would see from him in the big rock operas a decade later. "Summer '68" is probably Richard Wright's most put-together song, after struggling through the post-Barrett years to write something truly memorable. "Fat Old Sun" is David Gilmour's turn at the mic, and my what a sweet voice he had before he wrecked it with cigarettes and too many performances of "The Nile Song" from way back when. Finally Nick Mason rounds things out with other long track, the collage-like "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast", which presaged some Dark Side of the Moon style innovations like the dripping water start/stop (replaced by a beating heart for the album) and assorted random mutterings.

Atom Heart Mother captured my fancy in late high school and early college, but I sort of moved away from it. As with many of the albums between Piper at the Gates of Dawn and Meddle it sports a lot of ponderous experimentation, not all of which works that well. However, it's nice to know there were people crazy enough back then to give crazy experiments like this a shot. Incidentally, this album also hit #1 in the UK, so that means there were plenty of people crazy enough to buy into it...or leaded gasoline was really taking its toll on humanity.

Rapture of the Deep (Deep Purple, 2005)

It's hard to believe the "reunion" period of Deep Purple has lasted for 30 years, far longer than the band's original period of existence. Steve Morse has long unseated Ritchie Blackmore in the role of "longtime Deep Purple guitarist", having logged 20 consecutive years with the band. Another amazing stat before I move on: only two members of the band (Ian Paice and Roger Glover) have appeared on all of the past nine albums.

Nine albums! One more and they will have equaled their original output and maybe we'll have to call the 1968-1976 era the "prelude" of the band's tenure. Nah, I don't think it will ever come to that, but the past 30 years have given the fans plenty of music and drama. Recently, we reviewed Slaves and Masters, which was the first album to wreck the restored harmony of the reformed Mark II lineup, and generally perceived by many fans as a dishonest album. Needless to say the band got the message and restored Ian Gillan for The Battle Rages On, another contender for Worst Deep Purple Album. After a tension-wracked tour perhaps only paralleled by Queensrhyche's current fiascoes, Ritchie Blackmore quit the group, assuming that the band would quickly unravel following his departure, just as it had the last time he exited the group.

He couldn't have been more wrong. Initially they did flounder, vainly trying to coax Jeff Beck to their ranks, followed by a fun but ultimately fruitless few gigs with Joe Satriani. Suddenly, help arrived from an unlikely (and to many Purple loyalists, unknown) source in ex-Dixie Dregs, ex-Kansas, ex-Steve Morse Band (oops, spoiler alert) axe-specialist Steve Morse. For this intrepid blogger, enjoying his sophomore year of college, Purpendicular was the most eagerly anticipated new album by a band who was going to have to deliver the goods or call it a day. Needless to say, the album was a potent (vitamin) shot in the arm, and while it didn't burn up the charts, the band was happy and the fans satisfied. Who could ask for anything more?

The re-energized band immediately took to the road to make up for lost time and within two years (record time in the reunion era) released another album, Abandon. Abandon smoothed over any perceived instabilities of the previous album, but lacked that album's spark. It was a "safe" album and comfortably locked them into a "serial touring" operation, bringing the hits to the masses.

When Jon Lord retired from the band, the long lasting reunion era hit its next crisis point. The following album, Bananas, would put the band back on the spot again, needing to prove: (1) Don Airey was an adequate replacement for Jon Lord, (2) an outside producer (Michael Bradford) would help their sound, and (3) the album title wasn't a joke. Bananas turned out to be a fun and adventurous album, putting to rest any fears that Deep Purple was now toothless without its original guitar-and-keys duellists.

So, a whole lot of preamble to get us to the main event here, Rapture of the Deep. It's probably the sternest title of any album since The Battle Rages On, but even this one still smacks of wordplay courtesy of Gillan, Glover & Co. I mean, how many Deep Purple compilations have used "purple" somewhere in their title, while poor "deep" is utterly neglected? This album retains some of the fun from Bananas, building on what worked in that album, namely getting Morse and Airey to create Instrument Duel 2.0, which was only getting started on that album. It's a more cohesive album as well; the songs move from one to the next very well. However, like Abandon, it was another "safe" album, not breaking a whole lot of new ground, and launching the band into an even more prolonged "greatest hits touring" mentality. When I last saw them in 2011, only one song remained in the setlist (the title track), which Gillan said was from the "new album...which is actually pretty old now". In fact, the amount of time until the release of Now What?! in 2013 rivaled the gap between Come Taste the Band and Perfect Strangers, when the band was broken up.

Nevertheless, Rapture of the Deep is a class act by a classy band. They should be a lesson to their peers in the art of growing older and wiser with grace while still standing by rock and roll.

Seventh Star (Black Sabbath, 1986)

Ah, what a terrible time for Black Sabbath! Technically, Seventh Star is in violation of my rule that the band must have at least two original members and one of them must be Geezer Butler. This also invalidates the two successor albums, plus one more from the 1990's. While I haven't exactly tripped over myself to track down those albums (all of which have dropped off the face of the earth - check out Amazon if you don't believe me), Seventh Star is the exception. Seventh Star isn't the best Black Sabbath album, nor is it top tier. Nor, by some measures, should it even be considered a "Black Sabbath" album, as the name was pretty much only kept to appease the suits. In fact, any album billed as "(Band Name) Featuring (Last Original Band Member)" should be viewed with justifiable suspicion.

Seventh Star sports an unusual lineup. Tony Iommi bears the honor of being the last man standing in Black Sabbath by 1985 and he brings an entirely new band to the table. Most intriguing is Glenn Hughes on vocals, making this one of the very few albums where Glenn does not play an instrument. Of course, Glenn's inclusion continued the detractors' new name for the band "Deep Sabbath" (or even "Black Purple" among the sillier haters), but as far as I know, "Smoke on the Water" was finally dropped from the setlist. If it seems like the album is a little keyboard heavy, this may be due to the sudden status elevation of Geoff Nichols. Originally brought in to cover bass around 1979 when Geezer has "sort of quit" the band, he stayed around on keyboards through the rocky early 1980's period of the band in an uncredited role. Suddenly, with this album is given equal billing and in the band photos. Rounding out the band are two guys mostly notable for their connections to other artists and bands. Dave "The Beast" Spitz is the brother of Dan Spitz, once of Anthrax, while Eric Singer is well known by many as the "other" drummer from Kiss. For those of us who like to explore bank linkages, this album is a true godsend!

As far as my own personal thoughts about Seventh Star, I think I like it more for its historical significance than anything else. I think most of the tracks are good to excellent, but you can hear Tony & Co. struggling to break out of the confines of the "Sabbath Sound", working under a band name nobody liked, but was too good to let go of. Tony's first proper solo album would finally be released in 2000 as a Santana's Supernatural style all-star event. Although Glenn was fired almost right after the tour to support this album launched, he would reunite with Tony in the mid-1990's for what should have been Tony's first solo album but was delayed 10 years due to the "reunion" of the original Black Sabbath. Meanwhile, Geoff Nichols would troop on with Tony right up to the start of the aforementioned reunion, then exit Black Sabbath for good as one of the longest-serving yet largely forgotten members of the band. Eric Singer stuck around for one more album, The Eternal Idol, while "The Beast" was gone by the eve of that album, around just long enough to get a credit of sorts. The Tony Martin era had begun, a period of Black Sabbath that still remains a mystery to me.

The Gemini Suite (Deep Purple, 1970)

A rock band playing with an orchestra! Well before Metallica's S&M hit the shelves back in 1999, Deep Purple had done it, twice no less. The original outing, Concerto For Group and Orchestra, was a full on attempt by Jon Lord to write a symphony featuring a rock band. These were not orchestra covers of rock songs, but an attempt to work within the classical music structures. The work arose from earlier attempts on prior Deep Purple studio albums, to add some orchestration to their songs, first "Anthem" from The Book of Taliesyn and then "April" from Deep Purple. Concerto took more after the latter work, contrasting passages performed by an orchestra, then a rock band. Ultimately the experiment failed because the band was pursuing a much heavier direction and leaving no room for orchestras in their plans, but they did briefly tour the Concerto, much to the annoyance of Ian Gillan and Ritchie Blackmore. So of course when it was discovered that provisions were made for another concerto project, they just about rebelled.

The second concerto project is now known to history as The Gemini Suite, a one-off performance by the band with a different orchestra and a different approach. Unlike Concerto, Gemini features cooperative solo performances by the different members of the band backed by the orchestra, an approach first seen on the studio track "Anthem" back in 1968. Amazingly, for all of their complaining Blackmore and Gillan turn out the most powerful performances. Ian Paice and Roger Glover turn in quality solos as well. Only Jon Lord himself flunked his performance, which he later cited as a bad case of his nerves getting the best of him.

Ultimately it was Gemini and not Concerto that Jon Lord continued to develop on his own during the 1970's, with a complete studio re-working with new musicians the following year, followed by an expansion project called Windows in 1974. Jon Lord would continue to work in a strongly classical inspired vein throughout his solo career, something his band would largely shun though sometimes dabble in as solo artists (I'm looking at you Ritchie Blackmore).

Automatic (Dweezil Zappa, 2000)

I don't have a whole lot to say about Automatic other than it's....interesting. When you have the last name "Zappa" you are burdened with certain expectations of strangeness. The original material is fairly standard guitar-driven instrumental work. However, any attempts at being taken seriously are undercut by all-guitar reworkings of songs from Carmen and the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. They are good for a chuckle and of course the only songs from the albums I'm still humming.

Dweezil had one more solo album left in him and it appears he is now dedicated to leading a tribute band to his late father, Zappa Plays Zappa.

Parachute (The Pretty Things, 1970)

This is definitely an album for my personal "gallery of greats". Of course its predecessor, S.F. Sorrow is also a fantastic (and surprising) album from the once-gritty Pretties, their Sgt. Pepper's and Magical Mystery Tour psychedelic bonanza. When it failed, founder Dick Taylor called it a day and the band promptly folded. It seemed like the band was forever done when a series of unlikely events brought most of the band back together two years later for the White Album/Abbey Road inspired Parachute. The anything-goes spirit of the White Album shows on the seesawing between sweet and acidic songs, which pointed to the past and future of the band respectively. Meanwhile, songs were stitched together into clumps in the spirit of Abbey Road (the producer, Norman Smith, worked with the Beatles through the Rubber Soul period, so clearly there was always an eye on that band, and it only makes sense that during that time they were overwhelmingly setting the tone of the era).

The band died a second time following the failure (again!!) of this album, but certain members decided they weren't finished and quickly pulled it back together, resulting in most of the bonus tracks on this disc. That lineup, with a few cosmetic changes, would troop on to mid-decade before croaking due to the loss of all original personnel...and of course reform YET AGAIN with a strangely new wave approach. Truly, the Pretty Things are one of the most under-appreciated and unlikely bands in the history of rock, which is what makes them so interesting to me.

A Thread Across the Ocean (John Steele Gordon, 2002)

Easter weekend was a good time to get caught up on my reading, if not my blogging. This is a book I have always wanted to read since stumbling on a stray review of the book in the Los Angeles Times back in 2002. It's amazing what you'll find at the bottom of the sea, and story of how it got there in the first place is nothing short of fascinating. Since the book transcends history and science, I couldn't really justify lumping it into my US history reading, so it falls in the awkwardly-titled yet broad-scoped "Nonfiction-Other" category. I'm looking forward to some of the later entries in this category, which include titles like The Psychopath Test, Smogtown and Of Dice and Men. Topics range from sports to statistics. It's a veritable grab bag, folks!

I've taken a mini-vacation from fiction, and it's time to fix that. Up next...The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern.

Between Cross and Resurrection (Alan E. Lewis, 2001)

This was a fairly hefty theological read I did as part of the Lenten Book Group at church. While there were plenty of great ideas brought forth in this book, it was clear that my theological chops still need some development. All told, I am glad to have read it and it definitely made me think differently about Easter this year.

Speaking of book groups, I don't normally do book groups just because I'm so inclined to read certain books that I'd rather be the captain of my own ship. I know that's a pretty selfish approach, but I don't think my reading would have the same richness if I forfeited my reading choices to the decision of the group.

The Cars (1978)

I'm on the downhill side of a crazy Easter weekend, so it's time to do a little catch-up work!

There are a few albums out there that are lucky enough to have every single track played played on the radio. I can think of three offhand, all self-titled, and all debuts: Bad Company, Boston, and, of course, The Cars. I think the Cars struck at the right place at the right time. They had enough new wave sensibilities to not drown in the punk movement, but also enough rock 'n roll nostalgia to capture the hearts of the old guard.

Probably my biggest complaint about this album (and I secretly believe the band's biggest regret) is not kicking off with "Just What I Needed", which launches just about every Cars greatest hits compilation. You know what they say about hindsight though...

The band set the bar so high on this album that it was inevitable that the following albums would be somewhat underwhelming. However, they were able to convincingly reinvent themselves as an eighties band with Heartbeat City in 1984 (plus a couple hits on either side of that album) before packing it in after 1987's Door to Door. Of course, there was that reunion album...but that's another post altogether.

Freak Out! (Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention, 1966)

At a typical Halloween or costume party it would not be unusual to meet a group of people dressed in grotesque outfits that actually turn out to be very normal, polite people underneath. I think of the Mothers of Invention as the reverse of this: a seemingly nice group of young men performing some doo-wop and other nice mid-1960's rock songs, and then the facade slips a little, and then falls off completely.

I don't hate Frank Zappa and his assorted projects, but I am daunted by the sheer size and scope of his catalog of works. Therefore, this is all I've got. Shall I venture forward and where do I go? I've found that Freak Out! is not an album you put on as background music; it demands your full attention. I also want to say that the trumpet on "How Could I Be Such a Fool" gets me every single time. And then, just a few minutes later, we jump off the sonic cliff into "Help I'm a Rock" and friends, the bulk of what would have been the second disc in the old two vinyl set. And with that, the real Mothers come out to play and it is weird.

Relics (Pink Floyd, 1971)

Pink Floyd has always had a troubled record in the "greatest hits" department and the original collection is no exception. Relics suffers from two problems: (1) the "hits" aren't really much of hits outside of the opening single, "Arnold Layne" and (2) anyone getting this album to pick up some missing tracks (relics?) will find only half of the album to be of any interest, the rest are picked off the first three albums. On top of all of this, it still leaves out a myriad of songs that were relegated to singles. Admittedly, most of those songs aren't very good, but then again there's plenty of issues with what was included here.

Relics attempts to bridge two very different eras of the band (the Syd Barrett years and the "wanderings" that followed prior to the release of Meddle later in the year). Therefore, the whole experience is a bit jarring.

Even in later years, the quest to make an authoritative greatest hits package remains elusive, with collections like A Foot in the Door being too tepid, aimed at novice listeners, and Echoes pleasing no one with its sequencing and song selection. What the world needs is a true relics collection that finally scoops up all of the odds and ends of the pre-Dark Side of the Moon era. How a song like "Bike" ends up on a zillion different compilations, yet early single "Apples and Oranges" gets nothing is truly a strangeness of the Pink Floyd catalog.

Here's the band on....American Bandstand!

Portrait In Jazz (Bill Evans Trio, 1960)

Portrait in Jazz is the debut of the "classic" Bill Evans Trio of Evans, LaFaro, and Motian. As with any Bill Evans album, you can count on hearing a Miles Davis song and this time, amid the mostly-standards studio set, the selection is "Blue In Green", released just a few months after Kind Of Blue put that song on the map. The authorship of the song has long been questioned. It is usually credited to Miles Davis alone, but this album took the bold step of giving Evans co-author status. Today it is generally considered to be a Bill Evans song foremost, but the practice of the time was usually to give the leader credit for anything original from the recording session.

As I have mentioned before, you can just feel the difference when Bill Evans is at the keys. His ethereal (dare I say ghostly) style makes him one of my favorite jazz pianists, and one of the few jazz artists at this time where I've felt comfortable enough to stray beyond the "top 100" tier of albums.

Double Trouble (Gillan, 1981)

Woo hoo! More from the Deep Purple family! Ian Gillan's various projects between his first exit from Purple in 1973 and the reunion in 1984 have always been among my favorite twigs in the Deep Purple family tree.

Following an acrimonious split with the Purple people, Ian vowed to exit the music industry for good, a decision that lasted all of less than a year. Following a series of uncharacteristically mellow demos, the Ian Gillan Band officially launched in 1976 and released three albums (one of them, Clear Air Turbulence, was featured here earlier). IGB pushed into jazz-fusion territory, something Ian wasn't all that comfortable with, so in 1978 he quit his own band, took his keyboard man with him, and formed the similar in name but different in sound Gillan.

The history of Gillan is a true rock-and-roll roller coaster of personnel shifts, combined with peaks and troughs of popularity and persistent money struggles. By the time of this album, the train was starting to lose its wheels, but it is still, like all the other Gillan albums, a lot of fun to listen to.

The studio portion is a step down from the previous two albums, but to their credit, they were attempting to bounce back rapidly from the sudden departure of guitar slinger Bernie Torme, who dabbled with other acts like Ozzy Osbourne and Atomic Rooster before settling into his own solo career (and creating a jagged yet formal link between Deep Purple and Guns N Roses). In his spot for this album is Janick Gers, still about nine years away from worldwide fame with Iron Maiden (this stint with Gillan is credited with forging that later bond). It is no surprise that Colin Towns steps up to fill the void left by Torme, both in writing and his distinctively theatrical keyboard stylings. While song-for-song, it's all a step down from their best albums, Glory Road and Future Shock, they still come off as a strong NWOBHM band (another label Ian was uncomfortable with), with a more adventurous sound than their Purple peer bands, Whitesnake and Rainbow, both of which were desperately trying to crack the American market.

The live portion (hence the "double" in the album title) is not the greatest in production quality considering it's 1981, not 1961, but it's good enough to show that Gillan was one of those bands that was at their best on stage. Even if you find the studio portion of the album to be a bit lackluster, this part will put you right back on your feet. Back in 2006 I was fortunate enough to attend the closest thing to a Gillan concert, when Ian Gillan brought his solo band to Anaheim and performed a number of songs from that era. The only downside was having a video camera swooping over my head for most of the show, which I guess is understandable in hindsight because it was busy recording the DVD later released chronicling that particular tour.

The Greater Journey (David McCullough, 2012)

I'm happy to say that David McCullough has delivered the goods once again with his latest book, about the American experience in Paris in the 19th century. I was concerned he had slipped after reading the lackluster 1776, but this book reminded me as to why he is one of the finest authors of American history.

Probably the best part of the book was the center part, where diplomat Elihu Washburne found himself caught up in the wildfire events of the Franco-Prussian War and its aftermath. Even after all of the mayhem and destruction of 1870-1, Paris was back and stronger than ever within the decade.

There was a lot of art history in this book and it will definitely be an influence next time I happen upon any works by Cassatt, Saint-Gaudens, Sargent, Morse, or Healy.

I seem to be reading a lot of books about Paris for somebody that's never been there. What an armchair traveler I happen to be!

Slaves and Masters (Deep Purple, 1990)

It's quite a shock (and yet the joy of the randomness!) to go from Deep Purple's finest live album to quite possibly their worst studio album. Circumstances relating mostly to band politics and personnel have caused the fans to revile this album as dishonest and a betrayal of the spirit of the reunion from 1984. One need look no further than Joe Lynn Turner's cornball lyrics and strained delivery than to know that this album just isn't good. However, I will try to say a few nice things about it.

First off, it's better than 1987's The House of Blue Light in the guitar and keyboard department. Jon Lord sounds very synthetic on that album, and synths were never his strong suit. This album restores the Hammond organ to the front of the mix. Also, probably savoring his victory over rival Ian Gillan, Ritchie Blackmore is playing his heart out, with a ferocity not heard since the Rainbow days. Of course, this may have something to do with the band being more ex-Rainbow than at any point in its history. Also, there are actually some thoughtful arrangements throughout. While songs like "Breakfast In Bed", "Love Conquers All" and "Fire In the Basement" are definitely not high points in the Deep Purple story, songs like "Fortuneteller" and "Wicked Ways" have a depth that neither of the Ian Gillan-fronted albums that sandwich this one can match.

Thankfully, for the continuing success of the band to this day, the Joe Lynn Turner experiment was promptly aborted following this album. The next album, The Battle Rages On, however, had plenty of its own problems, which ultimately led to the downfall of Ritchie Blackmore and the rebirth of the band as a more flexible and creative force through the remainder of the 1990's and to the modern day. Any of the albums following this one and Battle have a savviness you won't find here, pretty remarkable (and against the grain) for a band that has aged far more gracefully than most.

Made In Japan (Deep Purple, 1972)

I won't make any secret of how awesome I think this album is. Deep Purple's Made In Japan is one of my favorite albums and would need to be a part of any "desert island" list. As with other great live albums, this one captures the most famous lineup of the band at the height of its powers. Unlike many live albums in more recent memory, this one doesn't cheat. There are no hidden musicians playing behind a curtain, no audience cheering loops grafted onto the final product, and no mugging for the cameras (it wasn't professionally filmed). Also, it captures the tail end of a different type of performance period in rock history much more akin to jazz than the "traditional" rock concert, with solos that are not replicated from the studio version and frequent extensions, improvisations, and reworkings of and on the catalog. There is little audience participation in the sense that much of the cheering is done between songs (perhaps more a product of Japanese audiences) and little to no attempt by the band to have the audience do something to heighten the mood. They are generating their own heat. Compare this to the next lineup's appearance at the Ontario Speedway in 1974. Even though the band continued to stretch out and reimagine their material for the stage, it was already a whole different world.

Body and Soul (Coleman Hawkins, 1996)

Buyer beware: there are multiple Coleman Hawkins compilations called "Body and Soul" - this is the one you want to get. This collection brings together many of the scattered singles Hawkins released before the album format finally caught on in the 1950's. It's pretty common to discover music from this era through collections such as this. For a single disc it covers a surprising amount of ground.

These recordings from 1939 to 1956 provide a helpful bridge from the big band stuff of the 1920's to 1940's and the bebop era of Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, and associates. The early tracks use a more old-fashioned instrumental approach more familiar to fans of the Hot 5's and 7's days (clarinet, strummed guitar) than the later tracks (drums, string bass), showing Hawkins progression toward bop. In his later years he would show up in a number of unexpected sideman gigs with younger performers like Sonny Rollins.

Accident of Birth (Bruce Dickinson, 1997)

The late 1990's (actually the entire decade) were a time of crisis for the greater Iron Maiden family. The trouble started with the abrupt departure of guitarist Adrian Smith, following one of the band's finest albums. The remaining members carried on, but it was clear there was discontent in the ranks, largely stemming from their singer, Bruce Dickinson. The power behind Iron Maiden always had been bassist Steve Harris, but it can sometimes make things dicey when the image of the band depended so much on Bruce, when in fact Steve was calling the shots. The tensions go back to 1986's Somewhere In Time, where Bruce's contributions were eradicated, considered not in keeping with the tone of the album. The two made nice for Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, but the rigors of touring and Steve's militant control of the band finally convinced Adrian it was time to pursue other interests and perhaps take control of his own destiny.

Adrian's projects of the early 1990's (the Untouchables, Psycho Motel) went nowhere, while Iron Maiden continued on, larger than life, into the new decade. Tattooed Millionaire, Bruce's first solo album, did reasonably well and introduced Janick Gers to the Iron Maiden family. However, there seemed to be some issues with Bruce's live performances with Maiden, as if the Air Raid Siren was picking up some rust. Depending on who you talk to, it was either vocal cord issues or a growing disinterest in the band's music. By 1994, Bruce decided to quit and the band soldiered on for two albums with a new "unknown" vocalist, Blaze Bayley. Unfortunately for Iron Maiden, The X Factor and Virtual XI from the "Blaze" era are probably their worst albums. Meanwhile, Bruce had taken to the wilderness for two not-quite-metal albums, Balls to Picasso and Skunkworks. It seemed like the whole Iron Maiden family tree was slowly dying off. Just when it seemed like the flatline was imminent, huge news broke: Bruce was returning to metal and his new band included Adrian Smith. Suddenly we were in the era of two Iron Maidens - one with the name and the other with the sound.

Accident of Birth in the first of Bruce's two albums from this time period and it's clear that Bruce was throwing the gauntlet down in front of his old band. First is the prominent return of Adrian Smith. Second is the forceful, uncompromising metal sound, a chugging, churning rhythmic sound produced by Bruce's partner in crime from Balls to Picasso, Roy Z. Finally, the cover art is by none other than Derek Riggs, the creator of Maiden mascot Eddie. The name of the new puppet-jester? Edison. Eddie's...son. Hmmmmmmmm........ I can't find anything explicit from Bruce's camp saying that he was showing his old band how things should have been sounding, but it seems pretty clear that he was rejecting the direction his old band had veered off in. Where The X Factor sounds aimless, gloomy and hoarse, this album sounds crisp, direct, and powerful. Indeed it is probably one of the finest metal albums of the era.

Bruce would follow this with the more gothic-tinged The Chemical Wedding the following year, 1998, which also brought us Iron Maiden's Virtual XI. Again, Bruce had created the stronger album of the two, but he didn't have the wide name recognition of his old band. It was clear that the two parties needed to settle their differences and by the end of 1999 the hatchet was officially buried and the crisis of the 1990's ended. While it was a bonanza for the die-hard fans (8 albums in 5 years!), the sum of the whole was clearly greater than the parts in the case of Iron Maiden. Sadly, Bruce's solo career was the victim of the reunion, although he did manage to produce another album with Roy Z on the fly (as well as some bonus tracks for a greatest hits package) which demonstrated his could still hold his own. Steve Harris recently released his own solo album, which I haven't heard, but the buzz seems to indicate he should stick with the band he made so famous.

Midnight Blue (Kenny Burrell, 1963)

I know, I know. The folly of listening to Midnight Blue before 8 AM speaks for itself, especially thinking that Metallica was hosting the morning drive just 24 hours ago.

The Kenny Burrell discography is staggering and it seems kind of pitiful that this is the only album of his I have. Even more impressive is the number of other jazz artists he has provided guitar services for. Probably his best known sideman gigs were with the (insert glowing adjective here) Jimmy Smith. In fact, it only makes sense that I've moved on from Midnight Blue to The Sermon! as the morning progresses.

Death Magnetic (Metallica, 2008)

Damn you, Metallica. It took over 20 years, but you've finally won me back and this was the album that did it. When my friends first started getting me into metal, the first albums I rushed out to get were your first four. I remember defending James Hetfield's vocal style against those who dismissed it as just shouting and screaming, then I was astonished when these same people rushed out in droves to buy Metallica (The Black Album) and proclaimed themselves fans. In hindsight that was actually a pretty good album, yet young me felt betrayed by the band, like I wasn't the kind of fan they wanted, so they eased up on the heaviness, sweetened up the vocals, and watched the money pour in.

Just when I was about to accept that the Black Album was just a sign of the times, that Metallica was just moving into the 1990's, they doubled and tripled down on crazy with Load and Reload, as if they were trying to tell the world that the "metal" in their name was aluminum or some equally lightweight material. Throughout college and most of my adult life I announced the band in its current form was dead to me, dead since 1989 or so.

Things got interesting with St. Anger. Sort of like And Justice For All it was a "therapy" album, although this time nobody had died (unless you count Jason Newsted's reputation among his ex-bandmates). The production was rough and there was a lot of rawness in it. But instead of making me want to forgive Metallica, it made me want to laugh at them, like I was watching a band tear apart everything that made them so famous over the course of the 1990's. They looked like a bunch of self-obsessed morons in their Some Kind of Monster documentary. They were still dead to me.

Thankfully the band itself took stock of their own situation and finally (FINALLY) got down to business. Death Magnetic (in my book) is the true successor album to their original "core four", as if their little detour through the 1990's had finally merged again with the metal superhighway they built in the 1980's. Now, to be fair, it's not a clone of an album like Master of Puppets, because they are in their 50's, not 20's, but it suppresses most of their softer elements (thank St. Anger for that!) and gets back to the thrash metal sound their pioneered, with the solos back in the mix (no thanks to St. Anger for that!).

Now, speaking of the mix, I know Rick Rubin has taken a lot of flak for hyper-compressing the sound. Believe me, it's not fun for my car speakers or my ears when a song from this album follows something mixed a lot cooler when I'm doing an iPod shuffle. On the other hand, it's not enough reason to consider the album a failure, plus the production is far better sounding than Justice or St. Anger. If I'm in a fault-finding mood, I would be more inclined to point to the band's tendency to release big bloated albums (75+ minutes) infrequently, rather than more concise and frequent albums. This album is already nearly six years in the past. However, unlike previous albums, I'm actually kind of looking forward to what is coming next. It feels so strange....

Animal Farm (George Orwell, 1945)

This one was nearly in the can a week ago, but I've been swept up in other activities. I've always thought of Animal Farm as for the kids and 1984 for the adults, and therefore 1984 was the better of the two books, but I may have to stand corrected after this most recent reading of Animal Farm. Like I've said a million times before, it's crazy to teach the classics out of context. No book stands out of time and the greatest books are often the product of their times. The brilliant slow reversal of the thrill of Animalism to the return of business as usual at the farm should be a lesson for all of us to be more aware of the world around us, especially those we call our leaders, willingly or not.

Nuggets - Disc 2 (Various Artists, 1998)

Nuggets was and still is the "gold standard" of the 1960's garage/psych scene. From the original Nuggets compilation (disc 1 of this box set), a veritable horde of followers emerged, each trying to outdo the others in the obscurity department. Nuggets led to Pebbles, Pebbles to Gravel, Gravel to Rubble, and Rubble to Trash and everything in-between.

The three additional discs of Nuggets emerged with the box set in 1998 and clearly show the influence of the rival comps more than the original Nuggets did. The original Nuggets, which was groundbreaking in the early 1970's, capturing a scene that may have otherwise slipped away, had been somewhat co-opted by the more comfortable embrace of Time-Life series retrospectives and other big-picture 1960's compilations. This is not to say it's no good anymore, but most the tracks should be familiar to those who enjoy the music of the era. Disc 2 begins with a karate chop courtesy of the Music Machine, followed up by a swift kick to the groin by the Del-Vetts, neither of which received their invitation to the original Nuggets ball. Although there are still some familiar faces (or at least their songs) in the form of the Strawberry Alarm Clock, The Turtles and Paul Revere & the Raiders, this disc is full of Pebbles-grade misfits like the Sonics, the Seeds, the Litter and the Elastik Band.

Discs 3 and 4 use a similar approach, with plenty of bad-ass angry bands playing alongside their folkier counterparts in a way that only the 1960's could capture, before the ranks permanently broke in the following decade. One major difference between this first Nuggets box set and Nuggets II, which covers the rest of the world, is that many/most of the artists here are pretty much in the peak of their careers (some of which were very brief careers indeed), whereas Nuggets II artists tend to sport a number of "before they were famous" types, like Marc Bolan, Jeff Lynne, and half of the membership of Yes.

If you don't have these box sets and you like this kind of music, get them!!! They are the gateway to a lifetime of listening enjoyment in the form of grittier and more obscure gems from the golden age of rock. For extra credit, there are a couple "local" Nuggets for San Francisco and Los Angeles that largely avoid duplication with other Nugget experiences, while the Children of Nuggets is, as advertised, from a later time and may not appeal so much, though your New Wave friends may take an interest.

A Heavy Dose of Lyte Psych (Various Artists, 1997)

Well, that's it for the Dose compilations. If there are more than the four you have seen here, you should let me know right away! Lyte is the oddball of the bunch, probably because the fine folks at Arf Arf Records were trying to differentiate it from its companion, An Overdose of Heavy Psych. The following two compilations, Hard and Wylde, tend to favor tracks more at home on the Heavy comp than the Lyte one. Of course Lyte doesn't mean "boring" - there is plenty of adventurous tracks featured here, some of them downright weird, and in the spirit of these series, lots of obscurity to go around, just without the cranked-up fuzz.

As always, I like seeing the geography behind the scene. I've also included some albums by these bands, which is always interesting as many of these groups were barely able to release just one single, let alone an entire album!

Michigan: The Misty Wizards (Detroit), Chris Carpenter (Detroit),
Illinois: The Capes of Good Hope (Chicago)
Massachusetts: The Freeborne (Boston), Masada,
California: The Id (San Diego), The Truth (Los Angeles), The Ballroom (Los Angeles), Teddy and His Patches (San Jose),
New York: The Tea Company (NYC), The Gurus (NYC), Childe Harold (NYC), The Crescent Six, White Room
Wisconsin: The Picture (Milwaukee)
Canada: The Mongrels (Winnepeg)
Arizona: The Wild Flowers (Phoenix)
Nevada: J.K. & Co. (Las Vegas)
Pennsylvania: The Chimps (a.k.a. The Thomas A. Electric Band)
No Clue: The Attic Sound, The Fourth Way, The Rock Revival

Albums:
The Freeborne: Peak Impressions (1968)
The Id: The Inner Sounds of the Id (1967)
The Tea Company: Come and Have Some Tea With... (1968)
The Chimps: Monkeys A-Go-Go (1967)
J.K. & Co.: Suddenly One Summer (1968)

The Man Who Sold the World (David Bowie, 1970)

Similar to what they say about so many things in life, if you don't like the David Bowie album you're listening to, you will probably love the next one. In the late 60's and early 70's (and even beyond that) it seemed like Bowie couldn't keep still. His early "mod" phase had morphed into a folk-rock sound by 1969, probably best represented by "Space Oddity" on the album titled variously Man of Words, Man of Music or David Bowie (not to be confused with the prior album of the same name) or Space Oddity. However, that album didn't enjoy widespread success until a bit later, so David Bowie brought in some heavier musicians and the result was the vastly different The Man Who Sold the World. Songs like "The Width of a Circle" and "The Supermen" that were once folk-influenced numbers were transformed into extended hard-rock mini-suites. Oddly, none of the tracks on the album enjoyed success as singles. In the end, Bowie once again elected to switch gears in 1971 with the lighter but more successful Hunky Dory, which ushered in the Ziggy Stardust era.

The album enjoyed a resurgence of popularity in the mid-1990's when Nirvana included the title track in their "Unplugged" show. Both the original version and the cover are good in their own ways and I would be hard-pressed to say who did it better. However, the real strength in The Man Who Sold the World is in the first four songs, not so much the title track.

I still don't have a lot of Bowie in my library and I would like to fix that, but I'm not in any particular hurry. Although I'm more partial to his earlier work, I've found something to like in each of his many eras. Hopefully I will revisit his music here soon.

The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society (1968)

If you haven't heard this album, you really should. The Kinks have a reputation, thanks to their biggest hits, of being a band that plays hard and fast, but the late 1960's were a quiet, more pastoral-sounding time for the band. In 1966, a U.S. travel ban combined with Ray Davies's having a nervous breakdown, set the band on a trajectory far different from their fellow British Invasion peers. Themes of tea, tobacco and British-ness in general dominated their albums of the late 1960's, all of which are now critically acclaimed, but at the time were miserable financial failures. This album represents the peak of these themes, pulled together in a loose concept album.

For landmark albums such as this I only accept the finest, which in this case is a 3 disc uber-deluxe edition, a mostly-noble attempt to bring together every track even remotely associated with the recording of this album. In total there are 62 tracks, which I think sets the record for amount of bonus tracks if you consider that for some the original album was only 12 tracks (though 15 was more standard).

Part of the reason this version is so massive for the sake of a single album is its complicated release history. The band recorded enough material for two albums, but something got mangled along the way and a few different editions (in stereo and glorious mono) popped up around the world. Attempts to collect the assorted variants have resulted in a bunch of CD editions of varying quality. My old copy slapped together the 15 track mono version with the 12 track stereo version, plus a mono version of the (sometimes) accompanying single, "Days". The problems with this version was numerous, with a song like "Mr. Songbird" being stereo-only and another like "Animal Farm" only in mono. This set eliminates all of that nonsense and does mono and stereo versions of every song. During this time, a number of oddball tracks were recorded that either never received a proper release or ended up on the bizarro Great Lost Kinks Album in the early 1970's. They round all of those tracks up here, which is nice, although I think a couple still remain under wraps. Also included, but not really essential, are alternate mixes of some of the regular Village Green tracks and some songs that were previously bonus tracks from other albums that got pulled into the orbit of this version ("Wonderboy" and "Polly" are from Something Else By the Kinks, "King Kong" from Arthur). I guess replication is better than elimination!

This album represented the end of the first era of Kinks history, with bassist Pete Quaife leaving the band for good and the band pursuing a heavier sound in the albums to come, all the while continue to advance various themes, some better defined than others.

Soul Mover (Glenn Hughes, 2005)

Since the mid-1990's, Glenn Hughes has enjoyed an active career. Following the demise of Deep Purple in 1976, his recording career was sporadic and most of his endeavors abortive. An attempt to reunite with his Trapeze bandmates went nowhere. His solo career, which began with intense promise, stalled after a single album. A collaboration with guitarist Pat Thrall didn't last beyond a single album. Even a promising start with a "new" Black Sabbath in 1986 ended in disaster and his ouster. With the release of 1994's From Now On, he had shaken off the drugs and developed a more worldly outlook, then began making up for lost time in a major way.

Soul Mover follows a long string of solo releases and in many ways represents the culmination of this period of intense recording. It's not just the gem of his career, but in fact the entire Deep Purple family tree. His ongoing collaboration with Chad Smith of the Red Hot Chili Peppers brought in a little extra help from Dave Navarro on the two opening tracks. All of the songs are well-developed and sophisticated without sounding stale. While this isn't a funk album, there's enough of Glenn's trademark "funky" in the trimmings to make it a fun and energetic album as well.

The album was immediately followed with two more funk-oriented solo albums, before Hughes transitioned from solo to supergroup with Black Country Communion and its successor group, California Breed. Although the road hasn't been easy and success in his adopted home country remains elusive in spite of key friendships, it is clear that Glenn is satisfied with where is has ultimately ended up.

Live at Inglewood (Deep Purple, 1968)

As fun as it is to talk about big-time stuff like Dark Side of the Moon, it's nice to hone in on some stuff from the dusty archives. Live at Inglewood was the result of a failed experiment, to capture a new band performing live with state-of-art black and white video. The video itself from all accounts (I have not seen it) was a disaster better appreciated as some kind of abstract art than a performance piece. Thankfully the sound survived almost entirely intact, and with a little help from the sonic magicians of the DPAS it received a proper release in 2002.

You can try watching it if you like though. :-)

Other than the semi-ridiculous performance at the Playboy Mansion, there is very little live material available from Deep Purple Mk. I. Compare that with the Gillan/Glover years, where live recording have been surfacing for years (in fact, Live in Montreux, featuring a vastly changed band in personnel and sound was recording just a year later). Traditionally, Deep Purple's first lineup has been regarded as old-fashioned and lightweight compared to all later lineups. Nevertheless, they must have been doing something right to score an opening spot on Cream's 1968 "farewell" American tour. Supposedly, Eric Clapton was a fan, but Baker and Bruce didn't like being showed up and ousted them halfway through the tour. Even though the set is all covers except for the instrumental "Wring That Neck" and the Foxy Lady styled "Mandrake Root", you can hear a dramatic power in their sound. Guitarist Ritchie Blackmore is turned way up over Jon Lord's organ, an unusual sound for the lineup better known for drenching organ on its studio recordings.

I don't think the band had any clue at this point that they would undergo a dramatic transformation in the following year. Their debut, Shades of Deep Purple, did very well in the United States and The Book of Taliesyn, album number two, just debuting here, promised more of the same. However, diminishing returns in the States, culminating in the failure of their U.S. label, combined with a lack of success at home, warranted a need for change. Within a year, half the songs featured in this set were dropped and the originals were expanded to over 20 minutes apiece. By the release of Made In Japan, none of these songs were performed, although "Mandrake Root" is essentially grafted on to the end of "Space Trucking". The band has enjoyed a true love/hate relationship with their original hit, "Hush", banishing it from the setlist by 1970 (replaced by "Speed King"), yet re-recording it in 1988. In 1996 they restored it to their live set over Ian Gillan's objections. Steve Morse was probably saying "how can I join this band and NOT play that song!" Now it enjoys a fairly permanent spot in their setlist, an undeniable part of their nearly 50 year heritage.

Out of the Cool (Gil Evans, 1961)

We may have changed quarters, but big band jazz still rules the roost. Of course, one shouldn't confuse Duke Ellington and Gil Evans, even if 20 years were not separating the two albums. Like most people, I discovered Gil Evans as the partner and (sometimes) man behind the curtain on some of Miles Davis's albums. While albums like Sketches of Spain are certainly iconic, they require a different approach to listening than, say, Kind of Blue or the other small-combo recordings of Miles Davis. Out of the Cool, launched by the ice-cold (in a good way) original "La Nevada" reveals a somewhat more energized Evans, boosted by Elvin Jones on the drums. This album also shows some new directions in Evans's music, with some discordant piano and a few progressive (for 1960!) guitar solos.

I may need to do some maintenance work on this album, as I seem to be missing the last track, "Sister Sadie" - I guess it's good to learn these things sooner rather than later!