Fires At Midnight (Blackmore's Night, 2001)

The Deep Purple story, especially post-1994, has been fairly well chronicled here, but I haven't paid a whole lot of attention to errant former guitarist Ritchie Blackmore following his stormy departure from the band. When he left at the end of 1993, he intended it to be a killing blow, but fate had a different plan for his old band, which continues to this day with his replacement, Steve Morse. Meanwhile, Blackmore set off on a completely different path.

First off, he reconstituted Rainbow, dormant since the reunion in 1984. This Rainbow bore no resemblance to the old Rainbow, featuring all new and pretty much unknown musicians (old drummer Chuck Burgi would re-enter the fold briefly, but that was the only link to the past). The resulting album, Stranger In Us All,seemed to show Ritchie prepared to follow a much harder direction than his old band. Then something changed.....

The first appearance of Candice Night, Ritchie's girlfriend, was as a backing singer on the last Deep Purple tour. She would follow him into Rainbow, though not be an official member of the group. Apparently at some point during the 1990's the two discovered they were both closet Ren Faire geeks or something and the next thing you know, Blackmore's Night was born.

I have the utmost respect for Ritchie, but I seriously cannot understand the motivation behind Blackmore's Night. Sure, Blackie has been a little unpredictable over the years, especially with the turn to really slick commercial rock in the early 1980's. However he seemed to shake all of that off within a few years, whereas Blackmore's Night has been going on for nearly two decades, longer than his entire stint in Deep Purple. Everything about Blackmore's Night just seems a little off. We'll use their third album Fires at Midnight to demonstrate.

First off, the music sounds all Renaissance-y but this isn't an Ancient Music Revival project. The drums and "horns" sound ridiculously synthetic and when Blackmore "gets electric" is seems wildly out of place, like he's having flashbacks to the 1970's and pumping out some classic Rainbow riffs that just don't work with the cutesy vocals and acoustic melodies. In the midst of all of this, there's a Bob Dylan cover, "The Times They Are a Changin'". Apparently each Blackmore's Night album has an unusual cover song, like something from Jethro Tull, Rednex, or Joan Baez. Later albums would sport covers from Ritchie's early days, like "Child In Time", "Temple of the King", or "Street of Dreams"(!), which seems a little more suitable. Back to the Dylan cover, though, it's beyond me why they sort-of mashed it up with the cutesy "I Got You Babe" riff.

Beyond the notes, the band hasn't exactly lent itself toward crossover with the Purple faithful. First off, they almost never tour in the US. When they do, it's in freaky Ren-Faire type settings, well suited to their band of weird names (Bard David of Larchmont, Earl Grey of Chimay, Troubadour of Aberdeen, Lady Kelly De Winter and Scarlet Fiddler) and insistence on costume-appropriate audiences. As for me, I think I'll just settle for the DVD if I'm ever jonesing for this kind of thing. I guess Ritchie's as happy as a clam about all of this (and huge in Germany, where most of these shows happen), so good for him! I just can't see myself going along for the ride. For what it's worth, the last album (their ninth) finally cracked the US album charts and includes a tribute to Jon Lord as the final track. Maybe the time they are a changin' for BN (I'm tired of typing).

Bright Midnight: Live in America (The Doors, 2001)

Unlike many bands of their era (The Grateful Dead aside) the Doors actually committed quite a few of their shows to tape, making them one of the better documented bands of the 1960's. The Bright Midnight archives label launched with the release of the hearty sampler Live in America, and vastly expanding the number of live Doors releases (judging from their website, by sixteen concerts).

Overall, this is an excellent introduction to the live Doors experience. Songs from every album are represented (actually one from each, and the rest are from the first album, or cover/filler songs that don't appear on albums). Most of the concerts sampled here are from around 1970, so a lot of the first album songs are performed through the lens of tipsy/slurring/party-time Jim Morrison. Even L.A. Woman get represented with the song "Been Down So Long", a live number that was later brought into the studio. On this version Morrison delivers a particularly graphic (and comical) set of lyrics that obviously didn't make it to the album version. Some really awesome highlights, however, are courtesy of our woozy frontman: "Light My Fire", "Roadhouse Blues", and a medley of "Love Me Two Times" with "Baby Please Don't Go" and "St. James Infirmary". Meanwhile the band shows they are capable of meaningful improvisation around their material, especially Robby Krieger throughout, but Ray Manzarek (who is literally playing his parts one handed since he's doubling with keyboard bass) gets in on the act as well. "Touch Me" without the horn section? DoneCome on, you always knew "Break On Through" is really just "Tequila" with more words. Right? As far as the not so good, probably just "The End" which is all over the place and probably worked better if you were actually there.

This was yet another promotional copy score from my Borders days. In some ways Bright Midnight shot themselves in the foot with this release because I feel like I got the full experience and don't need to invest in the 16 individual shows. Also, the 1970 recordings may not be everyone's cup of tea, as Morrison is pretty wiped out on a lot of the songs, but unless you insist on note-perfect reproductions, I think most people can embrace this album as a fun (and ultimately fatal?) romp through their classics.

Nuggets II - Disc 4 (Various Artists, 1998)

The final disc of the impressive Nuggets II box set is probably the most diverse, with a mere 15 of the 28 tracks coming from British groups. Also represented here (some their only appearance in the whole set) are Australia (The Atlantics), Brazil (Os Mutantes), Canada (The Ugly Ducklings), Iceland (Thor's Hammer), Ireland (The Wheels), Japan (The Mops), and Uruguay (Los Shakers). New Zealand, the Netherlands, and (West) Germany each have two spots, demonstrating their relatively hip scenes outside the UK. All of the non-British bands except for the brilliantly weird Os Mutantes are not well-known outside of their own countries. Among the Brits, a few of the bands should be familiar to casual fans, if not because of their own accomplishments (The Pretty Things, The Creation, The Small Faces), then what they contributed to later (The Birds through Ronnie Wood, The Fairies through John "Twink" Alder, Dantalion's Chariot through Andy Summers and The Acid Gallery through Roy Wood). A few of the oddballs like Winston's Fumbs and Tymon have minor but direct links to an array of later groups ranging from Yes to the Clash.

One bit of methodology the second Nuggets uses is to include any country outside the US, meaning Canada is here when most series prefer to lump our northern neighbors with the similar sounding US scene. Generally the American material from 1965 to 1968 trends a little grittier, heavily influenced by the Yardbirds and early Kinks, while Europe's various scenes trends more fanciful, ranging from psych-pop to freakbeat. The rest of the world is a mixed bag. Some absorb their local sounds and merge them into pop, like Os Mutantes. Some ape the mop-top era Beatles (Los Shakers). Others fall more in line with the American sound, especially New Zealand and somewhat Australia. At least two songs here ("Rosalyn" and "Get Yourself Home") are older than the other songs and reflect a British Invasion mentality than the usual "psych era" stuff that's the backbone of the entire series.

Listeners should resist the temptation to listen to the whole box set from Disc 1 Track 1, because, as good as the music is, you will likely be too tired to fully appreciate the last disc. It has a lot to offer and I'm glad I had the chance to give it a little quality time today!

The Cars Greatest Hits (1985)

The original "greatest hits" package for the Cars has been largely rendered unnecessary thanks to about five later similar compilations. This is one of those collections that came out mid-career for the Cars, so Door to Door hadn't even been released and is not featured here (and you aren't missing much in that regard). So why do I keep this lying around? Well, initially it was a good place to officially collect the non-album single "Tonight She Comes"* (the collection is essentially a vehicle for this song) and also this was the only collection to include "Heartbeat City" among the "greatest", something it would fail to do on the later sets. Finally, and the reason it sticks around, it that at least one of the tracks ("I'm Not the One") was remixed for the collection.

Overall, it's a pretty thin collection. For some reason Candy-O gets almost totally shut out, as is Panorama, although the latter typically doesn't contribute much to these collections. Also, whoever compiled this must have had it out for Benjamin Orr, as he only sings on three of the tracks, even though it reality he sang somewhere around 40% of their material. In fact, unless you absolutely cannot live without "Heartbeat City" (and refuse to buy its namesake album) or the "I'm Not the One" remix, you should skip this one completely, and invest in the more substantial Just What I Needed, which also delivers some nice rare tracks in addition to being a robust greatest hits collection.

* - The Cars are nothing if not notorious for double-entendre songs like "Tonight She Comes", "Strap Me In", etc. etc. In the immortal words of guitarist Eliot Easton: "It doesn't actually say in the song that she reaches orgasm. Maybe she's just coming over to make popcorn."

Tonight (Franz Ferdinand, 2009)

After I reflected on the debut album here, I deemed it silly that I never got around to picking up the third and fourth albums from Franz Ferdinand. Thankfully, living in a rich library environment, this was quickly remedied and then a couple months later, here's one of them!

I haven't spent a whole lot of time with this album (full title Tonight: Franz Ferdinand, but I got lazy with the post title...you get the point), so I can't really get into any kind of detailed analysis. It was released nearly four years after You Could Have It So Much Better and it's clear that the band had gone back to the drawing board to correct some of the overt flaws of that album. The second album was released so quickly after the debut it had a feel of being a crop of largely inferior bonus tracks. Tonight takes the initiative of making progressive musical changes while getting back much of the tight pop that made the first album so good. So while the album is in a lot of ways a return to form, they are also breaking new ground, with a tasteful amount of keyboards and computers added to the mix. And for those who really want to get crazy, there's the dub remix album (Blood) the redoes almost all of the tracks to the point of non-recognition.

Another four years would elapse between this album and the next one. The next album definitely curtails the electronica bits of Tonight, but still retains the tightness of the music, so all in all it seems like the band is on the right path, even if they aren't pumping out albums annually.

Warhorse (1970)

Warhorse was sort of the B Team to Deep Purple. When Rod Evans and Nick Simper were dismissed from that band, both decided to strike while the iron was hot and release something before their names disappeared from the record. Both were largely unsuccessful in different ways.

Briefly, Rod Evans, ousted from Deep Purple for being too "mellow" for the direction Blackmore, Lord, and Paice wanted to take the band, released an extremely obscure single and briefly dropped from the scene. He relocated to the US and teamed up with a couple ex-Iron Butterflies and formed Captain Beyond, then disappeared once again after two albums. In 1980 he was lured back into music as part of the "bogus" Deep Purple and vanished forever after that (the location of Rod Evans today is one of music's most hotly debated topics).

Nick Simper fell out of favor with Blackmore, Lord, and Paice over his perceived "plain" bass playing techniques, not well suited to the re-imagined Deep Purple. In fact, he was fired with no replacement in mind and only when Roger Glover joined the band on a session basis for their first single did a replacement come to mind. Quite angry about his dismissal (he has been on record as also wanting to "get heavier") he kept busy first by backing Marsha Hunt in 1969, and from there putting together his own band.

The thing with Warhorse is that the five are all good musicians, but just a cut below their Purple counterparts as of 1970. In fact, Ashley Holt was under consideration for the vocalist spot prior to settling on Ian Gillan. Rick Wakeman initially served on keyboards, but that didn't work out (tough break!). Ultimately the album itself sounds like a cross between Uriah Heep (another band inspired by Deep Purple's lead) and the Deep Purple album The Book of Taliesyn. While all good songs in their own right, there are clear parallels between "Wring That Neck" and "Ritual", "St. Louis" and "Kentucky Woman", and "River Deep, Mountain High" and "Woman is the Devil" in song structure. Although Nick Simper has been very clear in his dislike of Deep Purple, particularly Jon Lord and Ian Paice, he wasn't proving himself musically distinct from his old band.

Alas, Warhorse suffered terribly from lack of success to the point where they disbanded in the wake of their second album, Red Sea and the departure of their drummer. They had already lost their guitarist. His replacement would stick by Simper throughout the 1970's in a series a sort-lived projects. That would pretty much define Nick Simper post-Purple as nothing really caught fire for him. There was some hope for a Quatermass II project, but it too wrapped after a single album.

As I enjoy to collect from all of the former Purps, Warhorse had always been a band I wanted to hear but couldn't find for the longest time. Thankfully the mp3 era has brought both albums back to light. Oddly enough, I think the responsible part was Angel Air Records, best known for releasing material from Ian Gillan without his knowledge or authorization. Anti-Purple forces of the world unite!

The Secret's Out (Tom Racer, 1998)

The sole album by Tom Racer, The Secret's Out, is cocksure and sharp, but the band ultimately did no more than than single album. According to the encyclopedia anyone can edit, they folded in 2001 when the band's founder joined the military. Perhaps it was a 9/11 thing, I don't know.

The two "hit" songs from the album, "I Don't Know" and "Never Make a Sound" are actually the really good ones here. Most of the songs are rent with distortion throughout, so if you've never heard the melodies before and you have this one on while driving, it will mostly sound like white noise. Some of the the songs veer into grunge nostalgia territory, but other than "Never Make a Sound" pretty much every song here until the last one runs between two and three and a half minutes.

About that last song. Sigh. Needless to say, it's NOT a 17-minute epic song. Why why why why why (yes, five of them) did so many bands need to put 10 minutes of silence on the last track with a not-so-hidden (except for the title) track lurking somewhere after the 10 minute mark. It may have been cool in 1988 when the whole "CD" thing was fresh and new but by 1998 (actually by 1989) it was more irritating than anything else. And if that wasn't annoying enough the hidden song ends with a feedback tone that last about as long as the entire song. Seeing that this is not a Brian Eno album, I really don't think anyone was writing thank you notes to the band about their classy avant-garde ending. The final insult is another minute of silence that rewards you with the album ending.

All in all this was a good album, but in hindsight there was nowhere left to go afterward. Sometimes this happens, when a band burps out all their best riffs and hooks in one climactic event. Then the patient dies (or goes to Afghanistan).

Holy Diver (Dio, 1983)

In spite of no actual members of Deep Purple being involved, Holy Diver is one of the landmark albums of the greater Deep Purple family tree. Ever since the "discovery" of Elf at a very opportune time by Roger Glover and Ian Paice circa 1972, Ronnie James Dio enjoyed a close relationship with the band. In fact, when Glover left Deep Purple he initially planned on forming a new band with Dio on vocals. However his production work (primarily with Nazareth, though, ahem, including Elf) must have distracted him because the next thing he knew Dio was teamed up with Ritchie Blackmore (the guy who effectively "fired" him from Purple) at the launch of Rainbow. Although Ritchie lifted Dio out of obscurity, it didn't take long for the singer to figure out why Deep Purple was so combustible and the two parted ways by decade's end. In what was either really good timing or just good business, Dio easily moved over to Black Sabbath as a permanent solution to that band's Ozzy problem. All the while between Rainbow and Black Sabbath, Dio was getting coating after coating of steel, transforming the one-time 60's crooner into the lean mean metal machine he's world-famous as today.

Holy Diver was the first release credited to Dio as a solo album (all syntax issues aside regarding Dio the Band and Dio the Man) since the last Ronnie & the Prophets single was released in 1967 and the first full album credited to Dio since Dio at Domino's in 1963. Of course the difference between that stuff and this album is huge. I think Dio was glad to finally get out from under the shadow of controlled guitarists. He smartly picked out band members from his past to launch his new band: Jimmy Bain, who played bass in Rainbow for an album and was looking for new adventures outside his Wild Horses project, and Vinny Appice, who sided with Dio in the Sabbath split over the mixing debacle over the Live Evil album. Of course there was the little matter of the guitarist. Initally Jake E. Lee was selected but it didn't work out and relative-unknown Vivian Campbell was brought aboard. Keyboards (what little there was outside the "Rainbow in the Dark" riff) were not staffed formally until the supporting tour.

This album would set the template for all of Dio's 1980's albums, all the way through Dream Evil, and even 1990's Lock Up the Wolves didn't deviate that much in spite of featuring an entirely different lineup. You have your up-tempo triumph-metal number, "Stand Up and Shout" followed by the title track (always the second song). "Caught in the Middle" is probably the most relaxed song of the bunch (using the Dio definition of "relaxed") before things get downright nasty with "Don't Talk to Strangers" finishing the first side, then immediately dropping the hammer on the live favorite "Straight Through the Heat" to kick off side B. The big giant superhit of the album, "Rainbow in the Dark" seems like an appropriate closer, but "Shame on the Night" gets the honor, sporting a "Hush"-like howl. Maybe a little nod (or slap?) to Ritchie's own first album?

I think this was the first Dio album I ever got (could have been Strange Highways in a weak moment, not sure). While some will waver toward the second album as a refinement of this one, I see Last in Line as just ever so slightly derivative. It's a great album, but it was done first here.

Ella & Louis (Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, 1956)

If your first album either has a tracklist resembling a mid-1970's Yes album or a cover like this, you are probably committing career suicide. However, if you are Louis Armstrong, 35 years into your groundbreaking jazz career, you can make the cover look like whatever you want!

Doing some quick math on the way to work, I noticed that this album was recording nearly 30 years after the end of the Hot 5's and 7's period, a period longer than the time elapsed from the last Beatles recording session and the recording of "Free as a Bird" many years later. Therefore, it's not fair criticism to say, "where's Gut Bucket Blues? Willie the Weeper?" and a whole bevy of other 1920's hits that put Armstrong on the map. This is Louis Armstrong settling into his comfortable later years, capitalizing on his distinctive voice and taking it easy.

This is also every bit as much an Ella Fitzgerald album as well. I've gone on record as being uncertain at best about my interest in "vocal jazz" so don't expect me to criticize when I have very little to work off of. She started her career a bit later than Armstrong and was about to do very well with her "Songbook" series for Verve. Up until this point she wasn't really doing full albums, but had a number of hit singles to her name stretching back to the mid-1930's, a couple of which featured Armstrong.

Musically, this album shuns big lush orchestras in favor of a pared-down backing band featuring Oscar Peterson on piano, Buddy Rich on drums, plus a guitarist and bassist. The running times of the individual songs are quite generous, with only two clocking in at under four minutes.

The pair would do two more collaborations in rapid succession following the success of this album, but as far as I know they went their separate ways after this, maintaining, or (in Fitzgerald's case) growing their reputations.

James Gang Rides Again (James Gang, 1970)

The second and arguably best album by the James Gang is an interesting case study. After an extensive prehistory, the band released their debut Yer Album as a power trio. That album features a lot of cover material and generally struts a very heavy sound. For about half of this album it seems to pick up when its predecessor left off, literally in the case of "Funk #49", their first major hit, a reworking of the far less known "Funk #48". They don't seem to have lost a step in spite of a change of bass player, with the more melodic Dale Peters stepping in for hard-hitting Tom Kriss. Everything goes along just fine until the completion of "The Bomber" (the collective name of a fairly wacked-out medley), and then the B side changes the script for the band permanently. Most of side B is composed entirely by Joe Walsh, whereas the first side was all band compositions except for the snippets of "Cast Your Fate to the Wind" and "Bolero" that were slipped into "The Bomber". Side B is also much more folk and country influenced than the hard/funk rock of side A. I'm not sure if this was by design or it just turned out that way, but it seemed to work out well enough that this sound would dominate on their next album, Thirds, which is almost entirely solo compositions, most by Joe Walsh. With the success of "Walk Away" on that album, Walsh's future as a solo artist was all but confirmed and he left the band to form Barnstorm, which fed directly into his 1970's solo career.

I tend to favor the A-side. Even though I will scream if a movie preview uses "Funk #49", it actually is a really good song. In fact that's the reason I got this album in the first place, with the very faint connection to Deep Purple being very secondary. I'm not sure what took me so long to get the first album, which is a must-get for anyone who likes the A side of Rides Again better. Thirds still confounds me. It's a little too country-fried for my tastes, I suppose. If you dig the Eagles, then you can probably relate better, and I will acknowledge that from this point onward it didn't seem that weird that Walsh would hook up with the Eagles a few years later.

I had no idea until not all that long ago that the James Gang managed to release nine albums in their lifetime. Following Walsh's departure, Fox and Peters drafted in two members of the defunct Bush (not the British band), extending the lifespan of the band a little more. The Tommy Bolin era followed with two more albums, then two final albums were eeked out after that. Fox and Peters generally stayed out of the songwriting, resulting in rapid style changes from album to album as those passing through handled most of the writing duties. Outside of YouTube videos, I have not heard any of these albums, all doomed to live in the shadows of the three Walsh-era albums.

Their Satanic Majesties Request (The Rolling Stones, 1967)

This is a downright crazy album! As the Stones' one real attempt to "get psychedelic" it frequently gets compared with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, the Beatles' flagship psych album. However a more apt comparison, if one must do the inevitable Beatles-vs-Stones analysis, would be Magical Mystery Tour, released in the UK as a double-EP the same day as this album. Both albums push the psych envelop far more than Pepper and ultimately both albums made both bands think twice about riding the psych train any further, leading to more reactionary follow-up albums.

One can look back upon the vast sweep of rock history and pretty quickly reach the conclusion that the Rolling Stones and psychedelic rock were not a good match. They probably dabbled in it the least of their British Invasion peers, and got out of it faster than what bands made it to the other end of the scene. By 1966, the band actually was in a little danger of falling behind everyone else, sticking fiercely to R&B material and cover songs, while even the "purists" like the Yardbirds and Animals were making big changes. Aftermath showed the band was willing to grow, with all-original songs, and more exotic instrumentation, fueled by Brian Jones's increasingly mind-bending behavior. The even threw in one of those trendy (but ultimately dull) long songs at the end of the album. Songs like "Ruby Tuesday" and "Mother's Little Helper" and the following albums showed increasing strength and diversity in their songwriting. In fact the period from Aftermath through Goat's Head Soup in 1973 is considered the Golden Age of the Rolling Stones, though it was not an easy time. By 1967, the old management was finally put off enough by their notorious off-stage antics to cut ties, leaving the band to figure things out for themselves. Sensing the moods effusing the Summer of Love, the band decided to get really crazy out-there psychedelic, far beyond anything they previous did.

And that's the big problem with Their Satanic Majesties Request: self-production. Some artists do it very well, but the Stones usually need a spirit guide to translate their sonic artistry to disc. While musicians like Jimi Hendrix could use the power of being one's own producer to great effect, the Rolling Stones ended up creating an album that sound more like somebody trying to self-medicate their ADD problems with LSD. Most of the songs can't hold their melody consistently without veering off in some completely random direction, especially the non-hit songs like "Gomper" and "The Citadel". Even Bill Wyman's sole composition outside the "Nanker Phelge"-credited songs, "From Another Land" can't help but get sucked into this weirdness, even though he typically stayed above the fray during the creation of the album. Incidentally, having Mick Jagger do backing vocals on your song is about as daunting as having Hendrix provide "a little rhythm guitar" to a song.

Needless to say, the Stones had to pull it together after this roller coaster. With the next album, the Stones would be out of the production business, turning the role over to Jimmy Miller. Although Beggar's Banquet wouldn't appear for almost a year after this album. its recording mostly predates the Beatles' own "back to basics" White Album, paving the direction that the Stones would head on future albums and a whole lot of other bands would follow into the 1970's.

As a coda, I never gave this album a whole lot of thought. I nearly scored a free copy in my first year with Borders, but one of the supervisors nicked it right before I could get my hands around it. Thankfully the library is a reliable place to find the essential recordings of the Rolling Stones, so eventually the album made it safely into my collection. Before that happened, I had danced around the album, enjoying some of the songs leading up to its creation as well as the two hits it spawned: "She's a Rainbow" and "2000 Light Years From Home".

Fragile (Yes, 1971)

They just don't make albums like this anymore. I'm not saying this from the perspective that this was the greatest album ever made and everything was downhill from there. Rather, I'm referring to the structure of the album, which, by Yes standards, is actually pretty accessible. Even though it was part of a growing trend by the band to create more long-form material, it is still fairly song-based, especially compared to the two albums that would follow. For some reason the early 1970's, still in the afterglow of psych rock, was much more tolerant of album with few songs, each with 10+ minute running times. Jethro Tull, marveling at this attitude, did a parody of the genre (Thick As a Brick) and it turned into a #1 album (and then they themselves started a deep involvement in the progressive movement). Nowadays if you try to do something like this you would be laughed off the stage. Even "out there" bands like the Flaming Lips don't make 3-song albums and rarely exceed the ten-minute mark on any given song. Another unusual feature of the album is the five "mini-songs" where each member performs (mostly) solo. None of them stand on their own, but they all contribute to the overall feel of the album.

This album is Yes's sweet spot, and the mini-songs show the confidence of their most famous lineup, completed by the addition of Rick Wakeman, and, amazingly, only recorded two studio albums. The group compositions show that they perform very well together while the mini-songs helped grow the individual identities of the band's members. The even-more-prog Close to the Edge would follow shortly thereafter, butthat was enough for drummer Bill Bruford, who would leave the whole prog world behind for a long stint with King Crimson. Oh wait...out of the frying pan....

This was the only Yes album I owned for quite some time (thanks to my college BMG-binge), but I'm looking to expand. Thanks to satellite radio, I'm finally getting to hear more than "I've Seen All Good People" and "Owner of a Lonely Heart", so I'm setting my sights on additional acquisitions like their first album, and Going for the One. I'm still leery of the 1980's stuff and I was underwhelmed by footage of a reunion show from around the 2000's.

Garage Beat '66, Volume 7: That's How It Will Be! (Various Artists, 2007)

It's another chapter in my helter-skelter coverage of the Garage Beat '66 series. This was the last volume released in the series, released along with the sixth volume a couple years after the bulk of the series was released. It reverses the trend the was evident from the fourth volume onward of adding more psych to the mix. Every track here is from either 1966 or 1967 except for "I'm a King Bee", the sole representative from 1965. Aside from a few psych ruffles by the more familiar bands, the "strictly garage" mentality has returned, but with considerably more obscure bands. In fact, I've heard of very few of them. I think as Sundazed was reaching the exhaustion point of the series, they needed to turn to increasingly less known outfits to fill out the collection. This is fine; I like obscurity on these comps.

Just the way they were released I picked these up on an Amoeba run, a completely unexpected find. I had just assumed they were going to stop with the fifth volume. At the time I had hoped this would turn into a ridiculously long-running series (like Pebbles or something), but I think they were wise to wrap up at this point.

The Germanicus Mosaic (Rosemary Rowe, 1999)

Back in the day I cut my teeth on Roman mysteries with Steven Saylor and I still stand by his Gordianus series as the gold standard of the genre. I tried Lindsey Davis but I'm a little daunted by the 20-book Falco series, which she is now passing along to Falco's daughter. Maybe later on that one. Meanwhile, I've hit the first books of some other series: SPQR by John Maddox Roberts (13 books), the Corvinus series by David Wishart (14 books), and the up-and-coming Ruso series by Ruth Downie (6 books). Also I've checked out a few minor series as well: the Athenian mysteries by Gary Corby (3 books...and why let the Romans have all the fun?), Roman Noir by Kelli Stanley (2 books), and on my yet-to-read listen Bruce MacBain's Pliny the Younger mysteries (2 books). I bet I'm missing some other good ones, though it's a real minefield of dodgy self-published gobbledegook out there. I'm too busy reading real published books to handle vanity projects - sorry! Also, there's a lot of books set in the time period that are plenty good, but not really mysteries. I take those as they come, but they fall into another reading project altogether.

Anyway, a quick word on Rosemary Rowe's Libertus series, weighing in at a lofty 13 books. As I mentioned before, I'm a little weary of the series that take place in Britain. It's sort of like Western mentality, but set in the UK rather than the USA and British authors tend to be more guilty of this that their American counterparts. However Libertus is a little different than his peers. First off, he's not a doctor (unlike Ruso and Arcturus from the Roman Noir series), he's a freedman (complete with lingering slavery issues), and fully Celtic. Also, the setting is much later than all of the other series. In fact this is the latest of them all, falling during the reign of Commodus, not exactly the dreamy heyday of Trajan and Hadrian's empire, nor the intriguing time of the Julio-Claudians or the old Republic. The mystery itself is fairly Agatha Christie grade for the first two-thirds, but there is an impressive twist at the end. The next one is on my list, but I've got some others to tend to, so it may be a little while before I get to it.

The Idiot's Guide to Classical Music (Various, 1995)

Yep, I'm an idiot. And you may be one too! If you know as much about classical music as I do, you should check this out. This disc consists 99 snippets from Albioni to Wagner.

Songs From Suburbia (Spring Heeled Jack USA, 1998)

Third-wave ska is a curiosity to me. My theory (and I'm sticking to it) is that a bunch of hangdog punk/hardcore musicians with nothing to lose turned to a glut of horn players being pumped out of high school bands across America to help them make some kind of distinctive new sound. Ska was the most natural output, though the brief swing revival of the late 1990's stemmed from this as well.

Spring Heeled Jack USA (the USA was added for this album to avoid confusion with a British electronica band I've never heard of and probably shared exactly zero fans with their American counterparts) rode the underground movement that burst into highly successful third wave ska in New England during the 1990's which brought bands like the Mighty Mighty Bosstones to the fore. By this time, the release of their second album, they were at the top of their game. If only they knew the whole scene would crash down on their heads just two years later, with the band folding shortly thereafter.

As early as 1997 the writing was on the wall. No Doubt, which erupted from the other side of third wave ska in California (and was rapidly divesting itself of any ska-like sound), was beaten down in the charts by some new British outfit called the Spice Girls. In 2000 Moon Ska Records went bust, and a number of bands promptly disintegrated or went dormant in the wake of that genre-killing event.

According to the encyclopedia anyone can edit, all/most of the band remained in music, though none of these new ventures reached the lofty heights of the third wave. Having been in college radio during the final years of its heyday, I can say that the music was a lot of fun when immersed in the times, but these days the whole movement seems pretty much washed up.

The Very Best of Ray Charles (2000)

If you think of the most influential acts in rock music and who in turn inspired them, you'll probably come right back to Ray Charles. It's no mistake that the Beatles' Live at the BBC and Anthology 1 both feature Ray Charles songs almost right off the bat. The Animals even covered the ad hoc "Mess Around" in addition to a number of his core hits. I'd even go so far as to say that if you don't like Ray Charles, there is something wrong with you. He's just so fundamental to everything we listen to now in pop and rock (even if he's not being coarsely sampled by Kayne West) that anyone should find at least something to like about his music. For me anyway it's even more fundamental than what I've grudgingly said about the Eagles in that for Ray Charles it's not just mass popularity but direct artistic influence at work in his music.

This compilation is fairly basic as far as one-disc greatest hits packages go for Ray. You should recognize most of the tracks here ("I Got a Woman", "Hit the Road Jack") as virtual standards of rock and roll even though in original form they are better categorized as true rhythm and blues. There are a couple fun tracks here too like "One Mint Julep" taken from his jazz album, plus the entire "What'd I Say". The last track, a duet with Willie Nelson called "Seven Spanish Angels" is about 20 years removed from the rest of the material here (the previous track "Let's Go Get Stoned" was from 1966), so it doesn't gel particularly well with the rest of the songs. However if your criteria is #1 hits, then that explains the huge gap. Sorry, no "Eleanor Rigby" or "Booty Butt" here.

My copy has a little history to it. The first Borders I worked at had a pretty lousy selection of CD's for overhead music play, so every morning I worked the first thing in the player was this album, since it was the only one in the drawer I could tolerate. When I left that store a few months later, they gave it to me as a going away present. Then I discovered that the speakers were so poorly calibrated in the store that I had only been hearing the songs in one channel! What an introduction to stereo!

Us and Them: Symphonic Pink Floyd (London Philharmonic Orchestra, 1995)

So, Roger Dean finally did a Pink Floyd album cover. Sort of. Believe it or not this was a #1 charting album in 1995. Of course the chart in question was the Classical Crossover chart, and the timing was pretty good too, with The Division Bell still relatively fresh. I never sought out this album; it was a gift from my parents, who were trying to relate to the kind of music I was listening to in the mid-1990's. While Iron Maiden was barely tolerated and Metallica could only be played when they were away, Pink Floyd intrigued them. Maybe their was hope for their son after all, but a little classical music appreciation couldn't hurt either.

Oddly enough the masterminds behind this are Jaz Coleman and Youth, from the post-punk outfit Killing Joke (and in the case of Youth, one half of The Fireman alongside Paul McCartney). I know next to nothing about Killing Joke beyond the name, but I'm pretty sure this doesn't sound like their music, so that's kind of weird. However this isn't muzak Pink Floyd. There are some pretty clever arrangements here, especially "Money" and "Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)" which, in original Floydian form do not exactly scream classical music. On the other hand, there is also a pronounced lack of imagination in exclusively going after only songs from Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall. Hell, "Comfortably Numb" is already rocking orchestration in its original form. As an added bonus there is a remix of the opening track "Time", stuck to the end of the proper album, that would make anyone crazy if playing "Name That Tune" as it's now two steps removed from its origins. Overall, this is not that exciting an album, but if it falls at your feet, you might as well pick it up and give it a spin.

Black Monk Time (The Monks, 1966)

Who are the anti-Beatles? I'm sure there are plenty of bands and artists who would take pride in being the reverse of the Beatles, but who would legitimately qualify. I thought of this a few years back when I put my iPod on shuffle and heard a track by the Fugs ("War Kills Babies") sandwiched by two Beatles tracks and being amazed that these songs could even exist on the same device.

My nominees for the anti-Beatles are (1) the Deviants, (2) the Fugs, and, of course, (3) the Monks. I'm not picking the Rolling Stones or other British Invasion bands because even though they were all marketed as Beatles alternatives, no amount of image difference can mask that they were all fighting over the same audience with the same basic interest in harmonious pop. I'm not pick the Sex Pistols, 2Pac, Metallica, etc. because none of those bands were around at the same time as the Beatles. My picks were chosen with the mind that the anti-Beatles should be from the early-mid 1960's, be coarse and dissonant where the Beatles were sweet and melodic, and be utterly devoid of screaming fans. Although slightly late to the party, the Deviants made a mess of things with their first album, Ptoof!, which rapidly descended into mostly inarticulate mumbling. Meanwhile, across the pond, the Fugs adopted a raw, minimal anything-goes style that didn't shy away from a handful of shrewdly placed F-bombs. And then there are the Monks.

For those who haven't heard of the Monks, they are probably one of the greatest WTF bands of all time. They were five Americans stationed in Germany who found their way into the music scene there. Not content to just call themselves "The Monks" (and I'm not sure if "Monkees" ever crossed their minds) they performed with habits and tonsures. They poured all of their instrumentation into the rhythm section, often performing as a five-piece rhythm section of drums, organ, guitar, banjo, and bass (which was frequently the loudest instrument outside of their own voices). The performed songs like "Shut Up" and "I Hate You" and most of the lyrics involved carnal relations with women in the basest of terms.

There are quite a few variations of this album kicking around. All of them (I think) have the album tracks from Black Monk Time, while my particular copy carries most, but not all of the bonus tracks and for some reason drops "Black" from the title but keeps the original minimalist cover.

Like many similar bands, the Monks promptly drifted apart by 1967 into menial jobs, homelessness and other depressing stories. The next Monks album wouldn't hit until 2000, a live reunion effort that capitalized on their rediscovery during the 1990's. The song "I Hate You" appeared in The Big Lebowski, but was shamefully absent from the soundtrack. Unfortunately, there are now only two Monks remaining and they are probably more into their retirement than making another album. For more information, check out the interesting documentary Monks: The Transatlantic Feedback.

In Our Gun (Gomez, 2002)

It's funny how some bands from the 1990's succeed and continue to this day and others don't. While some have gone on to run tattoo parlors, launch internet startups, or vanish off the face of the earth, others stick with the music in any role they can find. My friend had some wisdom about this. Some do music because that's the only thing between them and the streets or (even worse) a fast food career. Others have backup plans, like college degrees in business or library science (!) just in case the whole music thing doesn't work out. Maybe it's just the way things work that those in the former high-risk-high-reward category are the ones who breakthrough while the rest of us choose comfort, families, etc. Now I'm not saying one is better than the other (and I certainly like my non-music life), but generally if you aren't giving 100% to music it's increasingly unlikely that you will become a professional musician, and even if you are, there is no guarantee you will enjoy a nice long career in music. Think of all those classic-case flameouts like Skip Spence (leader of Moby Grape; died homeless in 1999) or Rusty Day (singer in Cactus; murdered in a drug deal gone sideways).

I first discovered Gomez during that fruitful college radio period around 1998. They were not as weird as the Beta Band, but definitely more out there than more established bands like Oasis, Blur, and (later) Coldplay. Although they never blew up, they built up a nice head of steam with their first album, Bring It On, which has sustained them nicely over the following 15 years. Although I liked their first album just fine, I didn't invest and kind of forgot about Gomez, but they deftly avoided becoming a "lost band" and have settled into a steady-state where they aren't blowing minds or taking over Top 40 radio, but have a solid enough fan base to support whatever they do for as long as they want. I don't think many bands are that lucky, dodging the whirlpools of obscurity or destructive fame. In Our Gun came into my orbit as a free promotional copy during the Bookstore Era of my life. Honestly, I never gave it a solid listen until recently. I'm still not a superfan, but they have my respect because they know their talents and skills and use them well. I just don't get really excited about much of their music though. There are a few bright spots here and there ("Shot Shot", "Army Dub"), but not a whole lot pops. But that's just me, and I wouldn't want to scare anyone off from scoping out a collection of career highlights, or even going back to the first album, the one that made everything possible.

The Awakening and Selected Stories (Kate Chopin, 1899)

This is the latest in my ongoing method classic literature reading project. I really don't think this would be something I would choose to read if it wasn't on the list. However, that's half the fun, reading stuff you normally wouldn't.

This book was very scandalous back in 1899, so much so that Chopin's career was ended and she was all but erased from literary history. However, twentieth century readers rediscovered Chopin and found her less scandalous and more of a prophetess of role of women in American society.

I can't say I was quite as blown away and thought the whole book to be a bit too melodramatic for my tastes. However The Awakening, I will agree, was her masterpiece. The other stories included here don't even touch it. I also learned I still remember a lot of French words. This helps when reading Chopin, but get ready for the "dialogue in dialect" that is very thick in the short stories.

Hotel California (The Eagles, 1976)

I am not an Eagles fan. Then again, how many people do you meet that say "of all the bands in the world, I'd have to say the best one is the Eagles"? Some folks downright hate them:

My experience with diehard Eagles fans have been few but weird. One involves an old guy gushing to us about attending a Don Henley concert like it was a religious experience and the big moment was when he put down the guitar and got behind the drumkit. Bravo!

Hotel California was one of those record club acquisitions, meaning I effectively paid one cent for it along with 12 others, all in exchange for paying a ludicrous price for one other disc. It's sort of a college ritual. I tell people that the album is like Bourbon Street - you can knock it, but you have to walk down it at least once. The album is so central to the mid-1970's zeitgeist that to not know it sort of puts you in a position of ignorance.

Another interesting thing about the album is the addition of Joe Walsh. Even vehement haters grudgingly admit that Joe is an all-around good guy and you have to wonder what kind of money was involved in pulling him away from a decent solo career into a relatively small role in a band at the top of their game.

When Randy Meisner quit following this album, it pretty much drained what little "country rock" sound was left in the band, leaving the increasingly adversarial Glenn Fey and Don Henley to rip the band to pieces after one more caustic album. Then, many years later, hell froze over.

Perfect Strangers (Deep Purple, 1984)

If I say "Perfect Strangers" and you don't respond with "Larry and Balki" or "don't be rideekulous" or don't perform the "dance of joy" then either you are much younger than I am or a Deep Purple fan. All kidding aside, it's must be Reunion Week here on the blog with this following hot on the heels of the unlikely Move Like This. I wouldn't go so far to say this was a "miracle" album; in fact in the couple years before its release there were plenty of signs that a reunion of Deep Purple's best-known lineup was only a matter of time.

A couple of harbingers occurred in the late 1970's. First, Roger Glover was recruited into Rainbow to resolve Ritchie Blackmore's inability to retain a bass player for more than a single album (just ask Craig Gruber, Jimmy Bain, Mark Clarke, and Bob Daisley). Glover wasn't exactly a natural choice, given the history of hostility (mostly from Blackers, as Rog is exceptionally good-natured), which included Glover's virtual firing from Deep Purple in 1973 and Blackmore's "theft" of Ronnie James Dio in 1975. Nevertheless, Roger worked out brilliantly, sticking with Rainbow for the next four albums, offering both bass and production services throughout and pushing the band into more lucrative territory. Meanwhile, somewhere around 1979 a rather-intoxicated Blackmore crashed a Gillan show and attempted to recruit his old nemesis into Rainbow to replace Ronnie James Dio. Needless to say that didn't happen, but it showed that after a few years of bitterness, Blackie was softening up toward his old bandmates, even the ones he clashed with the most.

Meanwhile, Jon Lord and Ian Paice were keeping busy, primarily in and around another Purple alum's band, Whitesnake. Before you start screeching "Still of the Night" in your best faux-Plant voice, keep in mind this was quite a few years earlier, when hairstyles were considerably more modest and less androgynous. After the demise of Deep Purple in 1976, the two immediately got to work on a new and different kind of band with horns and other non-Purple-y things. They even attempted to rope in David Coverdale to assume vocal duties from the stage-shy Tony Ashton, but the tables were turned on them and by 1980 they were both working for him instead! Their stint in Whitesnake was fairly unremarkable, with Paice ultimately leaving and hitching his wagon to Gary Moore's band while Lord was buried far down in the mix to near-inaudible levels on 1984's Slide It In (ah, Whitesnake album titles!). Needless to say, a Deep Purple reunion sounded mighty fine to them around 1983 or so.

Turning back to Ritchie and Roger, Rainbow was pursuing a far more commercial direction than they had in the Dio years. Although Gillan rejected them and Dio's eventual replacement was a non-starter, then managed to secure a core trio of Blackmore, Glover, and American singer Joe Lynn Turner, that would get them through the next three albums. However the keyboard situation continued to remain an issue for the band, and the drum seat was becoming equally problematic since Cozy Powell left. Although the Rainbow faction of Deep Purple probably had the most to lose in a reunion, I'm sure Ritchie saw some clear benefits in stabilizing those two roles, plus the bass would be handled by his own bandmate.

Finally, the most chaotic and unpredictable element of the reunion, Ian Gillan. Gillan had the wildest ride of the bunch between Purple stints, starting off by quitting music, then inching back in through an abortive children's album and flirtations with disco and jazz-fusion. In 1978 he "quit his own band" with keyboardist Colin Towns and formed Gillan (the band), which brought back many Purple music elements and tapped into the New Wave of British Heavy Metal. While capturing Gillan at his most vibrant, the band was dangerously unstable and collapsed in 1982 due to Ian having "throat problems". So the band was justifiably outraged when the next thing they knew Ian Gillan was fronting Black Sabbath (rumor has it the decision was made following a night of heavy drinking between Gillan, Geezer Butler, and Tony Iommi). The "Deep Sabbath" or "Black Purple" era only lasted a few months, as Gillan quickly realized, as did the rest of the band, that he was laughably out of place. Having already sniffed around the idea of bringing back Purple a couple years earlier, Gillan was ready.

So here you have it, the merging of about three different elements to reform a classic band. Perfect Strangers was an excellent beginning to the reunion era (now 30 years old and counting!) and features the band at their 1980's best. For at least a few days they were able to recapture some of the magic of the early Deep Purple days, and the new-found cohesiveness shows in their live performances of the time. The title track, even with NSFW modified vocals by Gillan, absolutely shined when performed at Knebworth in 1985. Even in the Morse era, the track still resonates as a live number in a way the studio version just doesn't quite capture. Other tracks deliver impressive energy and quality solos, harkening back to the glory days, with "Knocking at Your Back Door" becoming an instant hit. Two bonus tracks appear on current pressings, "Not Responsible" and "Son of Alerik", although my copy is so old that the second track, a ten-minute rehearsal jam, is missing.

The reunion era got stormy soon after this album, resulting in Gillan's firing after the second album, Blackmore's stormy departure after the fourth, and Jon Lord's retirement after the sixth. However the waters have been fairly smooth since 1994 without Blackmore around to stir the pot. "Knocking at Your Back Door" and "Perfect Strangers" remain in the setlist to this day (the only two Blackmore-reunion-era songs), while Gillan threw in "Wasted Sunsets" into his solo shows while supporting "Gillan's Inn". No other album with Blackmore has songs in anyone's live set these days, though "The Battle Rages On" made a surprise appearance a few years back, and I think Blackmore's Night does some folky version of "Anya".

Move Like This (The Cars, 2011)

I've alluded to Move Like This is a couple previous Cars posts here, so I'm a little tapped out when it comes to offering additional wisdom. As I've said before this is one of the more unlikely reunion albums, having overcome disinterest (Ocasek), retirement (Robinson) and even death (Orr) to occur. It's also fairly classy for a reunion album, featuring no cover songs from their heyday, no formal replacement for Benjamin Orr on bass, and, perhaps best of all, a tight running time. Too often, bands that haven't recorded since the cassette tape era feel compelled to drop two to three albums worth of material all at once just because it will fit on a CD. As for the sound, it's clear the band had studied the sound that set them apart from their contemporaries, with nods to both the debut album and also the more synth-pop era of Heartbeat City and even a little extra-crunchy guitar from the almost-forgotten Door to Door album. Since I picked this up at the library I haven't heard the bonus tracks that came with some editions. They're just demos, but two of them didn't make it to the final album.

Era Vulgaris (Queens of the Stone Age, 2007)

In English, "vulgar" is a loaded word, more often than not a pejorative derived from the perfectly innocent Latin "vulgaris", meaning simply "common". Throughout history, a dominant theme is that we live is very plain times (the "era vulgaris"), one that pales in the wake of golden ages, silver ages, and the hallowed heroic ages of centuries past. In American history, the 18th and 19th centuries positively glow in comparison to the 20th, the American era vulgaris. This failure to live up to the greatness of our ancestors invariably leads to the derogatory "vulgar" that stands out in the title of the Queens of the Stone Age album from 2007.

If you've been down Sunset Boulevard, you know what a tangled mess of stuff it is, all just blocks away from multi-million dollar homes on the hilly side and run-down decades-old apartments and motels on the other. Gas stations, strip clubs, fast-food joints, movie theaters, mini-malls, full-sized malls, churches, schools, funeral homes. It's enough to make you queasy (or "Sick Sick Sick" if you will) taking it all in. This is the inspiration behind Era Vulgaris, the spiritual successor to the band's acclaimed Songs for the Deaf, whose theme was a car, a radio, and a desert. This is the other side of Southern California and it's pretty bleak in its own way.

The QOTSA lineup has traditionally been fairly fluid, though most of the band from Lullabyes to Paralyze are here for this one. I saw them perform back on the Henry Rollins Show and other than the clean-cut Josh Homme they seemed a little more goth than the usual lineup. The sound however is unmistakable, a lo-fi crunch with a churning rhythm that reaches near-Hawkwind proportions, although Dave Grohl is not present here. He would return for the next album, plus work with Homme in Them Crooked Vultures.

My interest in QOTSA had waned considerably by this time, so I didn't rush out to buy it like the previous two albums. I still haven't heard Like Clockwork, the album that followed this one about six years later.

The Sermon! (Jimmy Smith, 1958)

While the title track of Back at the Chicken Shack is the Jimmy Smith track I always think of first, The Sermon! tends to score somewhat higher marks in the polls then that album. Unlike the other album, this one (recording just a few years earlier, yet ten albums before that one! what a recording machine!) sports a six-man lineup on the first and third tracks ("J.O.S." was recorded a year earlier, minus the tenor sax spot and almost all different musicians), some of which were big names already or would be soon. Other than Smith himself, only hard bop trumpet sensation Lee Morgan plays on all three tracks. Morgan's employer in the Jazz Messengers, Art Blakey, provides his drumming services.

As mentioned previously, Jimmy Smith was a huge influence on a number of jazz and rock musicians, many among my absolute favorites, and also made the Hammond organ an acceptable jazz instrument. This doesn't mean he runs wild and takes over everything. In fact, his almost always shares the leads with a guitarist (often Kenny Burrell, here on tracks 1 and 3) and at least one horn player. This isn't organ trio stuff and it's definitely jazz, not rock, so don't go expecting either John Medeski or Jon Lord style antics here. Yet, without Jimmy Smith, I really don't think we'd have the other two, at least not in the way we appreciate them today.

Strange Highways (Dio, 1994)

If you've had to opportunity to experience the vast sweep of Ronnie James Dio's career, then you'll know that Strange Highways and the "Tracy G" era of Dio (the band) moved him to the heaviest point of his career. The material here is light years removed from his origins in Elf and the bands that led up to Elf, and it's even pretty far removed from his earliest international exposure in Rainbow. Even though Ritchie Blackmore and Rainbow were Dio's ticket to stardom (as much as you may like Elf, it didn't catapult him to prominence), it was really Black Sabbath that would define his career from 1979 onward. When Dio (the band) was born, their debut, Holy Diver, was clearly shaped by his boot camp experience of two albums with Sabbath. After five albums, that hard exterior was getting a little rusty, so reuniting with the Sabs was a real shot in the arm for Dio's career, or at least put a lot more muscle into his sound.

Dio's fan base is a little hard to read. Early albums like Holy Diver and The Last in Line remain among the favorites, while Sacred Heart, Dream Evil, and even Lock Up the Wolves (which sported an entirely different lineup) were criticized for just repeating prior successes. Strange Highways, fortified through the re-energization through Dehumanizer, completely breaks with the wearying trend of all previous Dio albums. Yet the fans still remained unpleased. Even though drummer Vinnie Appice was back in the fold (another legacy of the Sabbath reunion) a lot of scorn was heaped on new guitar Tracy G, who just couldn't seem to fit fan expectations of what Dio's guitarist should be. Even though he sold his soul to Whitesnake and Def Leppard and was locked in a lifelong feud with Ronnie Janes Dio, Vivian Campbell set the tone and Craig Goldy and Rowan Robertson (more reluctantly) largely followed suit. From the first notes of opener "Jesus, Mary & the Holy Ghost" it was clear Tracy G wasn't content to follow suit. Most of the songs are way more aggressive than anything Dio had done before, largely propelled by Tracy G, but also Dio and Appice were coming fresh off a very heavy gig with Black Sabbath. The following album, Angry Machines, from what I remember of it, compounded the problems of Tracy G haters with the usually album fatigue the band exhibited back in the 1980's. When I saw them live in 1997, they only performed a single song from that album (and I think maybe two from this one?) , and it was pretty clear that Tracy G wasn't going to last much longer. Since Dio, he's mostly performed in his own name, with a few side project bands I've never heard of. As for Dio, they took some time to rebuild, and the new album, Magica, was a strange family reunion of musicians from the beginnings (Jimmy Bain on bass), Dream Evil (Craig Goldy's return), and Lock Up the Wolves (journeyman drummer Simon Wright).

Nexus (Argent, 1974)

The Argent story continues! We've looked at the previous two albums, so in defiance of randomness (and yet randomly selected they were) we move on to the final Russ Ballard album, Nexus. Ballard's increasing disinterest in the band, made evident on 1973's In Deep, moves to crisis proportions on this album. The first three tracks are instrumental, penned by Rod Argent and Chris White, and heavily reliant on keyboards, leaving the hitmaker feeling a little high and dry. In some ways though, he got the last laugh in that the only hit song from this album, "Thunder and Lightning" was his creation. However his other songs are just so-so. Argent/White weren't having a lot of success on this album either outside the opening suite, making this probably one of the worst albums the band released.

Shortly after this album, Ballard finally cut his ties and went solo, and many of his songs were picked up by other major acts, like Santana and Rainbow. Argent would expand to a quintet to compensate for the loss of Ballard's talents on guitar and vocals, but the new members would drive the band so far into prog territory that they sound more like an opening act for the Mahavishu Orchestra on the next two albums.

Nexus used to be hard to find, but thanks to some smart double-package CD's and now the mp3 era, it's fairly easy to track down. I wouldn't spend a lot on it, but if you've got all or most of the others, why not add this one too. That's what I did!

Youthanasia (Megadeth, 1994)

Whether Dave Mustaine likes it or not, one usually needs to use Metallica as a measuring stick for each of Megadeth's albums. Megadeth was born not long after his ouster from Metallica back around 1981 or so and originally was conceived as a metal proto-supergroup with members of Slayer, though that lineup never really materialized. Even from the earliest albums, it was clear that Mustaine was trying to teach his old bandmates a lesson about what thrash metal was supposed to sound like, with varying levels of success. While Metallica embodied the core of thrash for most of the 1980's, Megadeth floundered, dabbling between real thrash, souped-up hard rock, and odd cover songs. While Metallica had a rock-solid lineup only changed by death, Megadeth stuggled to maintain consistency, with the second guitar and drummer spots in constant rotation. By 1990, Megadeth finally found their "sweet spot" with Rust In Peace, featuring a solid lineup and a sound that challenged Metallica more than ever.

As we skip along to the album in question here, released four years later, we see the "classic" lineup still intact, but the adherence to thrash waning, as the band settled into a heavy-hard rock pattern that would dominate their albums for the rest of the decade. As usual, the Metallica factor is in play. Youthanasia is remarkable in that it marks the first time Megadeth had released more albums than Metallica, and in fact would never fall behind Metallica ever again (to date I think they are now leading 14 to 9). At first they seemed to be prepared to call out Metallica for selling out on their self-titled mainstream breakthrough, releasing the almost-as-good-as-the-previous-album Countdown to Extinction the year after the Black Album. But on the eve of this album's release, it was clear that Metallica might have sold their souls, but they were now also very rich and playing in circles well above anything Megadeth could muster by sticking with thrash. So the changes began and would continue. As Metallica mellowed out into Load and Reload, Mustaine & Co. parted ways with thrash as well, following up with Cryptic Writings and Risk. Hard rock, indeed, but metal? Meh. Of course there was a change in the weather yet again with the arrival of a new decade, but that's covered in the post on The World Needs a Hero.

I think I gobbled up this album back in my "12 for 1" music club days, where many college kids amassed their most mainstream albums on the cheap. My interest in the band was waning during this time, so I didn't revisit them again until 2001. To this day I still for some reason only have the even numbered albums, except for Risk and some of the later ones. I appreciate their thrash return of the 2000's and even saw them live a couple times down in Southern California (opening for Heaven and Hell, and then doing their own headlining). Of course the lineup then was pretty wacked out. I guess it's too much to ask for a stable lineup and a good thrashy sound.

Birds of Fire (Mahavishnu Orchestra, 1973)

With my self-professed soft spot for jazz fusion and a special love for the Mahavishnu Orchestra's first album, this was a natural acquisition. The first album was damn hard to top, so I'm not going to go out on a limb and say this one is better, because it isn't. It falls into the trap (albeit not a really serious one) of attempting to make lightning strike the same spot twice, and the second bolt maybe hit a couple yards (meters?) to the left. The good tracks here largely owe their attractiveness to the first album's sound, and the other tracks, typically shorter and more experimental, don't excite nearly as much.

Attempts at a third album fell apart and were ultimately released as The Lost Trident Sessions many years later. The original lineup scattered into the wide world of fusion, making this probably the second more core fusion group after Miles Davis's Bitches Brew mega-group. Drummer Billy Cobham went solo, and his first album notably features future Deep Purple guitarist Tommy Bolin. Jan Hammer, the keyboard fusionista, hooked up with John Abercrombie for his debut album after a joint project with violinist Jerry Goodman. Goodman would later appear with the (Dixie) Dregs, where I saw him performing about ten years ago down in San Juan Capistrano. Bassist Rick Laird ultimately left the music business and is better known for his photography.

Born to Run (Christopher McDougall, 2009)

I generally have a methodical approach to what I read, so most of what gets posted here I've been eyeing for quite some time. This book, however, was a spontaneous addition.

I've never really thought of sports writing as all that interesting a topic (except the ones about the dark side of the NFL). It makes a big difference when you are actually doing something in that sport. While I have no intentions (probably ever, but never say never) of running anything longer than a marathon, this book was a real inspiration. I'm glad I read it.

Of course as I've tried to discuss it with some of the other folks I run with, it appears I was the last person on the planet to hear about this book. It is interesting though to hear the reactions to some of the statements made in the book, particularly with regard to nutrition and shoes.

Summer of Motown (Various Artists, 2004)

The Motown sound isn't particularly core to my music library, but the influence is strong and, dang it, I like the Funk Brothers. This compilation, one of those freebies glued on to British music magazines, is substantially different from the "classic years" Motown compilation I also have in my library. Generally this one covers a later period for the label, with most of the tracks being recorded after 1965, while the other one barely scratches the 1970's. Needless to say this collection is not nearly as essential, but if you getting bored of the classic era, this offers a nice alternative. Most are comfortably in the "Motown" sound, although there are a couple outliers (Dazz Band, Teena Marie). Overall, the songs have a little more edgy of feel, as was the way with a lot of the music of the period.

It's sad to think that for a label billed as the "World's Greatest" it has experienced such a wretched ending. Unfortunately, as with many labels big and small, it has been relegated to a subsidiary entity handed off among behemoths like PolyGram, Universal, and Capitol. These days outside of indie rock label identity is fairly meaningless.

Bananas (Deep Purple, 2003)

Morse-era Deep Purple always shines when the band finds itself up against the wall. The first time this happened was with their first release in 1996, Purpendicular. A lot of people weren't sure how the band could exist without Ritchie Blackmore, especially since the last time he left the band quickly folded after a single album. Also, was history going to repeat itself in that they brought aboard a relatively unknown American guitarist? Attempts to recruit a big name either never happened (Jeff Beck) or only worked very briefly (Joe Satriani).

Thankfully, Steve Morse re-energized the fans and ultimately gained wide acceptance by the fans. They confidently released a second album Abandon, which was free of the doubts that plagued their first album, but ultimately rang a little hollow. After four years of serial touring, it seemed like the band once on the verge of a messy breakup was just going to trail out to the oldies circuit. More doubts re-appeared when Jon Lord announced his retirement. Sure, Don Airey was a familiar face, but was he Purple material?

As the run up to a new album continued, the doubts increased. A new producer, Michael Bradford, was so far outside the Purple family nobody was sure how his presence in the studio, in the the writing, and even adding his own guitar playing, were going to impact the band's direction. Even more hand-wringing ensued with the album title was announced. What kind of Deep Purple album title is Bananas? And what the hell is up the cover? What's this? Beth Hart is dueting with Ian Gillan on a song ("Haunted")? Needless to say there was a lot of risk taking going on. If Abandon was punning on "A band on", Bananas might as well be "A band losing it's f&*%ing mind". Right?

For a second time, Deep Purple thwarted the naysayers. For almost all of these concerns, the band was able to calm the building panic. Bradford added a freshness of perspective that Roger Glover had been unable to provide on the previous album. I think people also came to their senses about the cover and title. Sure, without listening to the album, it may seem like a "Gillan run wild" type of concept, but the band has always been a bit sillier in a good way since shucking Blackmore, who's now a serial Ren-Faire attraction. Sure there were some people who couldn't accept the duet piece, but there was plenty out there for the fans to gt excited about. Morse and Airey hit it off almost right away, with an epic bridge/finale on the title track. Songs like "Sun Goes Down" and "Silver Tongue" show the band is nowhere near wimping out. Meanwhile, the band continues the Morse-era tradition of at one acoustically-oriented song in "Never a Word". Good stuff all around.

History repeated itself when the band stormed into their next album, Rapture of the Deep. The same confidence both lifted and sunk that album and once again the band seemed to adopt the "serial touring" trajectory, this time for eight years, lasting until their third "risky" album: Now What?! As the elder band members approach age 70, it's probably time to work out a graceful retirement strategy, but it doesn't seem like with that album they are quite there. Perhaps the next album will finally break the cycle, and we can get a confident and adventurous album in the same release!

The Famous 1938 Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert (Benny Goodman, 1950)

Although I identify with bop and its children (fusion is a guilty pleasure), I didn't let other styles scare me when I swept through a list of the top jazz albums. I openly admit that I'm not a seasoned jazz listener, so I have no shame in falling back on the opinions of others for now! Hence, the jazz I have also features avant-garde (Cecil Taylor, Albert Ayler), ECM (Keith Jarrett, Pat Metheny), "jazz-age" (Louis Armstrong's Hot 5's and 7's recordings), and, of course, the swing era, from Ellington and Basie to Benny Goodman.

It's not too often that I have the benefit of having the album actually tell me about itself. The song introductions by Benny Goodman (relegated to the beginning and end of the 1999 re-release) explain how a 1938 concert didn't get released until 1950 and why there are a lot of pops and hisses. One does not simply rescue a vinyl record from the attic and erase of the those little peculiarities. Also, as one with a tolerance/affection for low-fi rock recordings from the 1970's, I'm fairly tolerant of imperfections. This album was already huge (timewise) in its original form and they somehow managed to make it even longer in 1999. The running times are pretty funny, with some songs being bashed out in under a minute, and then two super-long numbers ("Honeysuckle Rose" and "Sing Sing Sing") dominating most of their side of the old vinyl arrangement, each clocking in at over 13 minutes apiece.

Although he had more criticism than praise for bebop, Benny Goodman was an important progenitor of the small combo style, which he featured in this concert alongside his classic big band. In many ways, these tracks helped to cement Goodman's reputation as a forward-thinking artist, even if he also had the reputation of being a real taskmaster.

Asia (1982)

Asia is a supergroup of supergroups. The original lineup of Wetton, Howe, Downes, and Palmer has roots in a zillion bands: King Crimson, Uriah Heep, Tomorrow, Yes, the Buggles, Atomic Rooster, and ELP, just to get things started. Considering later members of the band, you can even tie into bands like Megadeth. However, the credentials are more impressive than the music, although the first two albums (this one and the following year's Alpha) performed the best and still have managed to earn a place in rock history. This album qualifies as one of those "even if you don't like it you need to know it" just to be familiar with its contributions to the zeitgeist (my favorite example of this is Hotel California, which even Eagles haters grudgingly acknowledge as significant).

The other remarkable thing about Asia is that it is one of those weird groups that has multiple existing variations. You can either see the "original" Asia minus Steve Howe, who recently retired, or you can check out John Payne's Asia. Apparently Payne felt that contributing to the majority of Asia's output was worth more than being an "original" so fought to maintain his identity with Asia. While it's not unique (L.A. Guns, Barclay James Harvest, the Beach Boys, Queensrhyche and others have done this), it is an interesting testament to the power of a name and the identity of an individual artist.