JIVE TIME RECORDS’ TURNTABLE

We’ve Moved!

2011-01-21T15:46:00.000-08:00

All of these album reviews and more can now be found in this blog’s new permanent home at Jive Time Records. To read our latest reviews along with brand new sections including Music Guides, Album Cover Galleries, and more, click here!

Roxy Music “Stranded” (1973)

2011-01-18T12:15:00.000-08:00

Stranded was Roxy Music's first album after the departure of Brian Eno - who was undeniably the band's driving force when it came to experimental avant-garde rock. No doubt the change in personnel lost the band a number of acolytes but there are enough traces of his influence remaining to make this the finest album the band ever released and, in my eyes at least, something of a classic. The introduction of Eddie Jobson's woodwind rather than Eno's spacey loops signalled a sea change in the band's approach with Ferry using this smoother sound to promote himself as the ultimate suave womaniser who thought he could seduce with a mere twitch of his tonsils. And, on some of these tracks, that doesn't sound too farfetched. With the passage of time it becomes ever more apparent that Roxy Music consisted of some truly excellent musicians. Phil Manzanera's guitar, Andy Mackay's sax and, in particular, one of the most underrated of drummers, Paul Thompson, all deserve equal credit even though they couldn't compete with Ferry's persona. The album contains eight tracks all of which are praiseworthy but special consideration should be given to "A Song For Europe", "Amazona", "Psalm" and the tour-de-force "Mother Of Pearl". –Ian

Repost: X “Under The Big Black Sun” (1982)

2011-01-17T11:50:00.000-08:00

A record that sums up Americana as well as any other. “Under The Big Black Sun” is proof that X was as good of a country band as they were a punk band. Rockin’, rollicking, dissonant and dizzying, this record is a forty-five minute bender. Bookended by “The Hungry Wolf” (an superblast of syncopated yell along) and “The Have Nots” (possibly the best drinking song ever), this is the soundtrack to an unencumbered night out. –Cameron

Elton John “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy” (1975)

2011-01-15T22:25:00.000-08:00

Strangely paradoxical how Elton John is now fiercely, almost neurotically, obsessed with protecting his personal life, yet in 1975 released Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy which purported to tell the story of his and Bernie Taupin’s struggle for recognition. Equally interesting, given his sexual ambivalence, is the unspoken story behind such songs as "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" and "We All Fall In Love Sometimes". Interesting as all that is, the most important factor to remember about this album is that it’s an absolute cracker. Everything seems to have come together at the right time to create a near classic. This is Elton's finest backing band. Davey Johnstone, Dee Murray, Nigel Ollson and Ray Cooper may have come and gone throughout his career but there can be no doubting he should have stuck with them. The artwork for the album by Alan Aldridge is superb and certainly one of my favorite covers. And the songs, because of the stories behind them, have power and poignancy. But, I said this is a near classic and that's why reviewing is a personal business. Others may like "Tell Me When The Whistle Blows" and "(Gotta Get A) Meal Ticket", I don't and that's were the album falls down. Still, the Captain and the Cowboy done good. –Ben

Charles Mingus “Mingus Ah Um” (1959)

2011-01-12T11:13:00.000-08:00

Mingus Ah Um is almost absurdly energetic. The pure joy of "Better Git It in Your Soul" is some of the most exciting, exuberant jazz I've ever heard, with the gospel shouts and calls, and the monumental tempo. Ah Um reminds me of Raymond Scott, as this outpouring of manic sound that seems perpetually on the brink of chaos, but always tightly controlled. I feel like I lack the lexicon to write about jazz, but I know this is some invigorating, essential music that never flags and serves as an excellent riposte to anyone who has the temerity to say that jazz is boring and/or wanky. I do prefer the first side to the calmer second side (or the back half of the album, anyway I don't own the LP), but it's all pretty stunning. –Jared

Malo “Malo” (1972)

2011-01-10T18:38:00.000-08:00

OK, let’s get the Santana vs. Malo comparisons out of the way. Yes, both had a Santana on lead guitar…Yes, both played Latin Rock…Yes…the both sang in Spanish and English…Yes, both were from San Francisco. That’s where the comparisons begin and end. Malo is an entity entirely unto themselves. While Santana played Latin Rock, with a Fusion/Spiritual flare, Malo’s brand of Latin Rock is true and real. You can hear the pulse of the barrio beating through the grooves: East L.A. and the Mission District. This is, in the most wonderful sense, Low-rider music… electrified salsa, meringue and bolero. It’s Chicano all the way. Please don’t let this stop you from indulging in this LP.

Malo's debut album remains their best and best-known work, primarily for the inclusion of the hit single "Suavecito." That track managed to make a Chicago-soul styled song sound hip with its smooth integration of Latin rhythms and irresistible "la la la" chorus. However, it represents just one facet of the band. The six extended tracks (all clocking in at over six minutes apiece) are lean and heavy with hot Latin jazz brass. The LP starts out with the cut “Pana”. It’s probably the best slice of rock-salsa this side of Little Havana. The song’s protagonist views the everyday life of the barrio...marijuana, unwed mothers, and police harassment. However, it’s not a song of woe and despair, it a celebration of life. Listen to the insistent percussion, the double-time horns, Malo invites you to dance and to Malo, to dance is to live. “Just Say Goodbye’, a ballad of love and loss, starts out in a Norman Connors “You Are My Starship” styled floating intro, lulling one into a state of peace. However, no sooner you are complacent, Malo rockets into an all out assault on your mind with a Fillmore West-like Jam, heavy on Wah-Wah guitars and thumping bass. Just as you recover from that jolt, they slip into silky R&B. The music in the song itself seems to serve as a metaphor for the ebb and flow of a rocky relationship ending. “Café” is the closest that Malo gets to duplicating Santana’s sound. It has a “Guajira” groove. It's both infectious and alluring. It’s full of Spanish double entendres--Coffee and Cream, if you know what I mean. The closing track, “Peace” is a suite beginning with a heavy Rock vamp leading into a swinging Jazz improvisation, similar to one of the extended workouts often encountered on Rare Earth LPs. Although many of their subsequent albums, due to constantly changing band line-ups, can be erratic and slightly decline in quality after the debut, Malo amply illustrate the band's importance as one of the most exciting outfits to fuse rock with Latin and jazz. –Ed

Divinyls “Desperate” (1983)

2011-01-08T20:31:00.000-08:00

If rock 'n' roll is about desperation, then the Divinyls have it in spades. Despite cranking out great music, it’s a shame that “Desperate” or any of the Divinyls' early work never received more recognition on this side of the Pacific. Vastly underrated, “Desperate” is a true new wave/rock gem. Christina Amphlett--Goddess of rasp and “rocker-babe raunch”--screams, yodels and yelps through these tracks like she’s possessed. From the explosive opening of "Boys in Town" to the closer "I'll Make You Happy," it's obvious that she's not holding back The ending of "Boys in Town," in which she repeatedly yells, "Get me out of here!" is perhaps the most desperate moment on "Desperate," and one of the most noteworthy.

My favorite track here is "Only Lonely," with simple, frustrated lyrics set to a perfect pop-rock melody, reminiscent of The Pretenders or Blondie. It is perhaps the LPs best song (if it's possible to pick one), and is highlighted by its memorable bridge -- "He said, 'Come on baby, not on the first date,' so I said, 'Okay baby, how long must I wait?' Science Fiction is the most "new wave" of the cuts here, with catchy, quirky lyrics and some truly amazing high-pitched noises by Miss Amphlett at the start of the bridge. "Take a Chance" is a heavy-hitting straight-up rock tune, while "Ring Me Up" and "Siren" is the band at its most fun. You'll be singing along to these after the first listen. "Elsie," the slow song here, is an example of why this band is so powerful. It's about suicide, and Christina could not have given a better vocal delivery for such a morose subject matter. She makes a few sounds during this one that seem like they came directly from the depths of hell. I guarantee, when you listen to Desperate, you’ll feel as though you've discovered a secret treasure, something of real quality that is alone yours. You'll quickly understand why the Divinyls are one of the most unique, rocking Aussie bands of all time. –Eduard

Hawkwind “Space Ritual” (1973)

2011-01-06T11:48:00.000-08:00

Rock made interstellar matter. A blessed stars collision makes possible this weird, antisocial record. A quite rancid and demodé spot that doesn't resemble anything done before or after. A crash between the cave-like distortion and the outer space, mystic sounds. A search for God based on primitive rites. Pagans worshipping Nature, Fire, Elements, Cosmos. Ancient divinities, entities such as Sun Ra or Blue Cheer. A true astral projection, an initiation turn down to the depths of the Earth and up to the confines of the Universe. Excessive, saturated, vehement, foul and whimsical. At the antipodes of simplicity. And yet, it sounds basic and direct. A gloomy journey towards light. Guitars buried deep down in the mix, foregrounded bass and vocals and some occasional trumpets sounding like distant low-frequency signals. I've never found anything like this. An artificial album. A touched-up live which is a pure celebration of experience. It's both YES and NO. An endless curl. –R

Bob Welch “French Kiss” (1977)

2011-01-04T11:10:00.000-08:00

Following a brief affair with heavy rock on the pair of Paris releases, Bob Welch puckers up and lands a solo soft rock triumph on French Kiss. While some of that guitar crunch remains, it and Welch's trademark baked goods vocals are wrapped in silky disco strings and dance floor beats throughout the mesmerizing French Kiss. The LP finds Welch as a post-hippie playboy on the prowl through irrepressible entries like the alluring "Ebony Eyes," "Hot Love, Cold World," and the Fleetwood/McVie/Buckingham assisted infatuation of "Easy to Fall" and "Sentimental Lady," originally cut for the Mac's Bare Trees. Elsewhere the disco-rockin' "Carolene," funky "Outskirts," vintage Welch space-drifter "Danchiva" and sunny Claifornia dreamin' duo of "Lose my Heart" and "Lose Your Heart" only serve to solidify the album's appeal - rare is the seventies softie that never dips in quality, all while delivering the lounge lizard magic in such spot-on fashion as on French Kiss. –Ben

Buzzcocks “Another Music in a Different Kitchen” (1978)

2011-01-02T23:27:00.000-08:00

There are some albums which will never age and remain relevant no matter what the prevailing musical trends; Another Music In A Different Kitchen is one such album. Many predicted the demise of the band following the departure of founder member Howard DeVoto but this magnificent album proved the doom-mongers wrong. The Buzzcocks' magnum opus is not punk but brash rock and roll with pop overtones couched in the candid language of the day. It carries no pretensions and refuses to acknowledge any inspirational influences. This is simply four blokes having a good time. From the buzz-saw introduction of early single "Boredom" which both opens and closes the album but doesn't actually appear in its entirety, this is a quite breathtaking selection of songs but, in my opinion, side two is where all the nuggets are to be found. The brilliant jagged guitar that ranges throughout "Fiction Romance", the driving bass/guitar that punctuates the chorus of "Autonomy", the desperate, manic vocals which feature on "I Need" and the devastating drumming which rolls through "Moving Along With The Pulsebeat" and is one of the few occasions a drum solo can claim to be more than window dressing - all important considerations when understanding what makes this type of music so powerful. A true classic of the punk era without being a punk album. –Ian

King Crimson “In the Court of the Crimson King” (1969)

2010-12-30T23:27:00.000-08:00

Released in progressive rock's ground zero year of 1969, King Crimson's debut instantly upped the ante in terms of expanding the possibilities of where rock music could go, it's expansive songs and the individual members' mastery of their instruments defining the genre. One seriously heavy and hyper-intelligent statement, In the Court of the Crimson King explodes with the primal, scalding venom of "21st Century Schizoid Man," as lyricist Peter Sinfield's Vietnam-era imagery of "innocents raped by napalm fire" delivered through Greg Lake's distorted vocals are encircled by a torrent of lacerating Fripp guitar chords, tightly controlled high-octane ensemble passages, and free-jazz discord from Ian McDonald's layered sax solo. "21st Century Schizoid Man" sets you up for an almost reverse-whiplash effect, as tracks like the exploratory "Moonchild" and lush chamber balladry of "I Talk to the Wind" widen the scope further with their fragility, while the stately "Epitaph" and bombastic title track are carried on the towering waves of a booming, primitive/modern mellotron orchestra, as images of doom and destruction abound. In the Court of the Crimson King would set the template for much of King Crimson's work, despite the band's multiple lineup changes, with it's ability to bludgeon, soothe, and strike a nerve throughout this landmark release resulting in a distinguished rock institution. –Ben

Miles Davis “Get Up With It” (1970)

2010-12-29T20:19:00.000-08:00

Without a doubt, one of the greatest albums of them all, a double set only comparable to the likes of the Stooges' "Funhouse" in its darkness, intensity and raw, funky sexuality. Now for starters let's get something straight: I loathe "fusion", and to even CONSIDER putting Miles' music of the '70s in that category - a genre filled with lilly-livered chumps like Return To Forever and the Yellow Jackets - is a great disservice to Miles and his music. From 1969 to '75, Mr. Davis pioneered and created his own unique sounds, a mixture of hard funk, psychedelic rock, avant-garde electronics and free jazz, that has never been equalled in regards to its sonics or its "vibe". There is NOTHING that can touch the raised-middle-finger jab in the guts felt when one puts on discs like "Dark Magus", "Live Evil", "Agharta", "Big Fun" or "On The Corner". The feelings of utter loathing and despair, the overwhelming EMOTION of these discs can be too much, yet nothing can prepare you for 1974's "Get Up With It", a disc of such wildness and total lack of any commercial forethought (and thank the heavens for that) that it was granted pretty much instant deletion upon release and has mainly only been available from Japan for the last 25 years.

Start with the cover: a big, slightly unflattering, grainy photo of The Man. It's the sight of a man against the world, battling for his own identity. Hit the first track, "He Loved Him Madly" (a tribute to Duke Ellington), a 32-minute ambient piece only broken up occasionally by Peter Cosey's mumbling guitar lines. It's one of the saddest damn songs you'll ever hear, and you can bet yer booty that if it was made by a bunch of white guys in Berlin ca. '71, every Krautrock freak in town would be hailing it as a classic. Next track "Maiysha" is a schizophrenic one. For ten minutes in merely putters along like a lite Latin number, interrupted sporadically by Miles' Sun Ra-like organ, then it stops, gets into a hard groove and proceeds to move along to Peter Cosey's awesome guitar screeches for another five minutes. Hot. "Honky Tonk" is up next, a brief interlude of stop-start rhythms and noisy organ crunch. It prepares you for the next track the unstoppable "Rated X", THE peak of Miles' - or maybe anyone's - sonic capabilities. Part hyperdive breakbeat rhthyms, part uber-funk, and nine parts pure noise, there is no other sound on earth as MOVING as this song. Get up with it. Disc two starts with "Calypso Frelimo", another 32-minute piece that starts where "Rated X" finishes off. Ecstatic peaks of dark psychedelic jamming, aided by Miles' wah-wah'd trumpet, gel and compete. "Red China Blues" is a brief number that kicks it in a Chess-Records-meets-Ornette way, and the 15-minute+ "Mtume" once again takes you for a ride with its collision of Cosey's guitar (a highly under-rated player in a field with the likes of Sonny Sharrock) and about half a dozen percussionists. Finishing is "Billy Preston", more chilling mid-range avant-funk to close the set. "Get Up With It" is the perfect summation of what was filling Miles' head at the time: the avant electronics of Stockhausen, the cyclical funk of James Brown, the wailing psych guitar of Hendrix, the improvised freeness of Ornette Coleman and as The Man himself put it, "a deep African thing". Many words have been written on Miles' music of this period, but to really GET it, you have to LISTEN to it. Not a word is spoken on GUWI, yet it speaks volumes on its creator's alienation and sense of despair. As far as so-called "out-rock" goes, this is about as "out" as you could get, and certainly about as purely "psychedelic" as music has ever gotten, so do the done thing and get with it. –Dave

China Crisis “Working with Fire and Steel” (1983)

2010-12-27T22:28:00.000-08:00

On several occasions when queried by Jive Time surveys, I have championed the China Crisis. I’m sure many of you may have rolled your eyes or scratched your heads in response. Why should I favor this group over dozens of new wave/synth pop bands? There are plenty with more hits and certainly many more with greater popularity. China Crisis is part of that handful of new wave bands, such as Talk Talk, that developed into something much, much more. They were one those bands that progressed by leaps and bounds with each subsequent release, both in complexity and depth. Sure, they had their share of hits, but unlike their contemporaries, became an album-oriented band of substance. Their first leap came on their second LP, “Working with Fire and Steel, Possible Pop Songs, Vol. 2. Here, China Crisis became a fixed quartet, adding bass and drums. The music is even more charming than their debut, but this time with more strength, less austerity and minimalist arrangements. "Working with Fire and Steel" is the classic here. No other song defined China Crisis' essence more. With its percolating beat, Daly's hiccupping vocals, and a smashing chorus, it was the perfect modern pop song. With that said, there was also so much more to China Crisis than that one song. Songs cut from the same cloth as "...Fire and Steel," including "Animals in Jungles" and "Hanna Hanna," but reveals a band with deeper meaning and ambitious ideas. Lundon's sweet backing vocals (and lead vocals on the pretty "Wishful Thinking" and "When the Piper Calls") balance out the quirkiness of Daly's voice, creating a perfect combination. Although they were pigeonholed as a 'synth pop' band, China Crisis was much more. All that mattered to them was the song, and this album is chock full of intelligent, well-written pop songs. Producer Mike Howlett (Gong, Steve Hillage, and Joan Armatrading) added much to the sonic blend, allowing the melodies to shine while toughening up the band's sound. Even the softer moments, like "Here Comes a Raincloud," and "The Soul Awakening" are full of life and excitement. Apart from their own matured sound on this release, there are traces of rock, pop, and jazz floating between the lines. It was only a matter of time before they were compared to as a sort of “synth” Steely Dan. –Eduard

ZZ Top - Tejas (1977)

2010-12-26T23:04:00.000-08:00

1977s Tejas is a transition album for Texas rockers ZZ Top. It is the beginning of their step away from the Blues Rock that had brought them fame and a lot of record sales and towards the 1980s Electronic Blues that would eventually make them a worldwide phenomenon. There is more of the former Blues Rock than the latter Electronica here though. Tejas is almost as good a ZZ Top's masterpiece Deguello, but is held back by some weaker tracks, something Deguello didn't suffer from. Still there are some amazing songs here, notable the blazing, yet tongue in cheek Arrested for Driving While Blind, the countrified and rollicking She's a Heartbreaker, and the achingly beautiful Asleep in the Desert. Overall Tejas is an important part of ZZ Top's discography, and a very good album. –Karl

The Ventures “The Ventures Christmas Album” (1965)

2010-12-23T12:58:00.000-08:00

The Ventures, who seemed to crank out a dozen-odd albums every year during their heyday in the 1960s, released this gem in 1965. It distinguishes itself from its holiday brethren by using a mixture of two styles that should be antitheses of each other: the Christmas carol and surf music (or more fundamentally, winter and summer). Traditionally, the heart of each of these styles lies in evoking a mood. The danger in trying to evoke two moods simultaneously is that it might become a hokey mishmash (like those "Santa-in-a-Hawaiian-shirt" tourist trinkets for sale in the islands). Through the skill of The Ventures and their producers, however, the two are combined into a fairly seamless whole, both heartfelt and fun - a pretty nifty trick. As on their other surf records, the guitar tones of Don Wilson and Nokie Edwards are still king, but sleigh bells (more or less subbing for the hi-hat) and glockenspiel challenge for supremacy in the mix. This elf approves! Favorites from the album include the majestic "What Child Is This" and "Silver Bells." –Wilson

The Hollies “Butterfly” (1967)

2010-12-22T10:51:00.000-08:00

The Hollies have always been one of my guilty pleasures. Considered lightweight to the other bands of their time, the Hollies consistently released one pop gem after another. My favorite LP by this band is the LP Butterfly. It is a somewhat neglected release that I believe is one of the definitive psychedelic pop albums. One of the unfortunate problems of psychedelia is that a band's ideas and intentions often surpassed their recording capacity, often sounding muffled and amateurish. Butterfly escapes this fate as the Hollies were consistent hit makers and benefitted from an A-list recording budget. Thus, Butterfly features plenty of exotic instrumentation and full, live orchestration. Much of their experimentation on the album reflected other prominent releases of the past year (Sgt. Peppers, The Byrds' Younger than Yesterday, etc.) but these ideas had not yet passed their freshness date and the phenomenal songwriting of Clarke-Hicks-Nash more than compensated for any redundancies. Apparently, as I have read elsewhere, the band as a whole was not too excited about the dive into psychedelia that they had begun with Evolution and continued here. This caused creative strain and Graham Nash would depart for America shortly after this album, but on Butterfly the tension provides a perfect balance between pop and psychedelia.

Butterfly starts with "Dear Eloise," a lurching number that provides sort of a manifesto for the rest of the album with it's tripped out mellotron passage shifting into a full blast pop-rock section rivaling even some of the better Lennon/McCartney singles. Nash would also specifically reference The Beatles on the sitar-laden "Maker," which is not as complex as George Harrison's sitar excursions, but has more of an immediate pop edge. The band scores with the soaring "Would You Believe," which is my personal favorite on the album, and the poppy "Step Inside," which recalls prime 1965 Brit-invasion pop. On the other side of the spectrum, the band tries to search for the astral sounds of the day on the one-two punch of "Try It" and "Elevated Observations?" Their "experimentation" here is rather tepid when compared with Syd Barrett's Pink Floyd, The Soft Machine, or a host of the edgier psych bands, but their pop instincts save the day and make the songs enjoyable, if a bit dated. The closing title track is a much better bit of orchestration, and sound of a piece with contemporary Moody Blues efforts. "King Midas in Reverse," which may be The Hollies' best psychedelic number, includes amazing vocal harmonies and what starts as deceptively simple production morphing into a huge orchestral wall of sound. "Everything Is Sunshine" is an enjoyable but run-of-the-mill B-side.

Note: As was the practice in the mid-60’s, this U.K. LP was sliced apart, cuts dropped/substituted and the running order shuffled. It counterpart was released on Epic in the U.S., “Dear Eloise/King Midas in Reverse”. –Eduard

Yes “Time and a Word” (1970)

2010-12-20T16:21:00.000-08:00

1970s Time And A Word is one of the greatest first-generation Progressive Rock albums, and a wonderful musical snapshot of a young and unsettled Yes that hadn't quite yet settled into their later Prog Godhood role. Only two-thirds of the "classic" Yes lineup is here, Jon Anderson at Frotman, and the wondrous Chris Squire at Bass and Bill Bruford at Drums. Otherwise it's part-time Yes man Tony Kaye on Keyboards and Yes's original (And quite substandard compared to Steve Howe) Guitarist Peter Banks. Still Time And A Word is a wonderful solid album with some truly amazing songs hidden in it's grooves. The title track is, in my opinion, the most gorgeously beautiful song Yes ever created. And No Opportunity Necessary No Experience Needed is simply thrilling. If you are a fan of Yes, or Progressive Rock you need Time And A Word. –Karl

Van Morrison “Astral Weeks” (1968)

2010-12-19T11:04:00.000-08:00

“If I ventured in the slipstream, between the viaducts of your dream...” and so opens the poetic dream masterpiece, Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks.” It's one of those monuments to human emotion that has the power to carry the weight of your life with it. The funny thing is, I really wasn’t feeling Van for the longest time, always shelving him away in the “mom-rock” bin. Then all of a sudden something hit me and quickly snowballed into the realization of his genius. With Astral I find the strength lies in the fact that, although the production is both classical and traditional in instrumentation, the record comes across as highly psychedelic from the mysticism of the arrangements. It’s similar in that way to the first few Leonard Cohen records or Townes Van Zandt’s “Our Mother the Mountain,” And for being such a contender among quality poetic-psyche LP’s, it’s easily available and usually pretty cheap, so there's no reason why you can't check it out. –Alex

Carmen “Fandangos in Space” (1973)

2010-12-16T10:39:00.000-08:00

There may be some of you that still remember watching David Bowie’s “1980 Floor Show” broadcast on Midnight Special in the fall of 1973, It was Ziggy’s last appearance and the swansong for the Spiders from Mars. It was a very special night indeed. For all the Glory of the Grand Dame, for me the true star of that broadcast was a band called Carmen. Released in 1973, Fandangos in Space introduced to the world the one of a kind blend of flamenco music and progressive rock of Carmen. Produced by skilled Tony Visconti, it is a stunning demonstration of virtuosity, creativity, and songwriting skills. Carmen‘s fusion is nearly perfect. I mean, there were bands doing the whole hard-folk prog thing at the time, and there were bands doing the whole Spanish influence thing, but both at the same time AND with arena rock ethics to boot? No one I can think of. The spacey synths, flamenco guitars and falsettos might seem a bit much, but trust me, it's worth it. Watch it here.

Although the Spanish/gypsy element translates into some predictable and clichéd lyrical topics, like bull fights, but the musical elements are so well integrated into the progressive rock vocabulary (including hand claps, castanets, and flamenco footwork) that one wonders why nobody followed the band's footsteps (literally!). Fandangos in Space open with the three-part "Bulerias," a roller coaster of sharp complex rhythmic prog and flamenco; future Jethro Tull member John Glascock's bass work is simply amazing. The piece establishes the main musical motif that will come back later in "Looking Outside" and the closing "Reprise." Roberto Amaral's typical falsetto vocals are put to good use in the torrid "Bullfight. The tune is powerful, with an appropriately hard/soft midsection (probably the best use of keyboards on the album; sounding like trumpets), while David Allen gives rare emotional depth to "Lonely House," a ballad built on the metaphor of an abandoned house. When Allen, his wife Angela, and Amaral join forces for the chorus line ("you've gone"), the listener dives into the despair conveyed by the lyrics. The second half of the album is loosely linked thematically and musically, each melody subtly hinting at the others. "Looking Outside (My Window)" brings another highlight and includes a flamenco dance as an interlude. A must for prog rock fans, Fandangos in Space is one of the genre's unsung classics. –Eduard

Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd St. Rhythm Band “Express Yourself” (1970)

2010-12-14T10:36:00.000-08:00

Somewhere between the Funk formalism of James Brown and free-spiritedness of Sly Stone can be found Charles Wright. In a perfect world, this enormous talent would be mentioned in the same breath as Redding, Gaye, and Green, but Wright's long-term success was hobbled by the line-up changes of his various backing bands, inconsistent records, and other music biz unpleasantries. Though he recorded lots of great music–even his weakest efforts are at least worth hearing–this record is his shining moment. Its title track is its most famous (and most sampled), but other tracks like I Got Love and the free-form funk freakout, High as Apple Pie parts 1 & 2, give it a Gospel-like sense of joy. Few reissued records have caused as much confusion as this one. The original release kicked off with a tight little number called A Road Without End. Future pressings, however, replaced that track with Love Land, which appeared on his previous LP, In the Jungle Babe. Love Land is a great song in its own right, but it doesn't suit the feel of Express Yourself as well as the track it replaces. For this reason, an original pressing of the record is well-worth tracking down. –Richard P

Back “Sea Change” (2002)

2010-12-12T10:08:00.000-08:00

Covering The Zombies, John Martyn, and Nick Drake during his sessions and tour of Sea change, Beck's influences are clearly heard and channeled this time around. While Mutations was all over the place, here Beck works on a very focused playing ground yet stretching some songs to the limit like the bare "Paper Tiger" or very solemn "It's All in Your Mind". His voice reaches such a level of power and beauty that could never have been foreseen coming from Mr.MTV Makes Me Wanna Smoke Crack, especially in the country tinged "Guess I'm Doing Fine". There is just such a chilling yet peaceful tone to Beck's voice and overall melodies that fully captures what the man must've felt to put out such an unpredictable yet honest record.

Beck has always channeled his place in life and views throughout his albums, whether people could see it through his bizzare language and theatrics is something less debatable. Mutations was his Moon & Antarctica (read: Hopeless, disenchanted sad sack record) but you would have never known, but here we see the most straightforward lyricism yet from Beck. The bitterness ("Is that what you thought love was for?"), the one sided love ("I can't cry them anymore/I can't think of what they're for"), and hopeful hopelessness ("Let it pass on the side of the road/What a friend could tell me now"); Everything here is easy to read into yet nonetheless powerful or mysterious.

As much of a downer Sea Change was in 2002, it gave me a real sense that Beck went on this sorrowful, soul-draining spiritual journey so I wouldn't have to. It was quite the opposite but Sea Change turned out to become one of the best friends I've had. Life's turned out to be less of my own private award show of Mr. Holland's Opus and more of a grim train ride passing by everyone I've hurt and everyone that's failed to see how I've helped them. I guess I'm at the "Already Dead" part of my life working up to "Side of the Road", so it makes sense that the 2nd half of the album has began to click with me. It's also has begun to make sense how strangely beautiful the most awful moments of your life can be, especially when Sea Change is your soundtrack. –Allistair

Fleetwood Mac “Tusk” (1979)

2010-12-09T00:01:00.000-08:00

I believe that the true power in this world is love. There's obviously a strong universal relation to the longing of the soul. I also believe that Fleetwood Mac just might be the best musical representation of love. I could probably write about any Mac record, making similar points, TUSK just happens to be living on my turntable at the moment. It's not a perfect album by any means, but when you dive deep into this band, it all hits the spot. TUSK is the double-LP follow up to their multi-platinum break up monster, Rumors. Of course there's no way Tusk could ever have been nearly as much of a commercial success, but that's what's nice about it for me, there's at least one full-length records worth of killer pop "anti" hits that still satisfy the listener in the same way, beautiful vocal coloring over lindsey buckingham's percussive strumming and driven home by that wonderful snare crack that mick fleetwood perfected in the pop years. Plus this seems to be the point where Buckingham really took over the production and, for lack of a better term, went insane. So the arrangements are wacky as hell at some points and he must have played at least 50 different stringed instruments on it, but what's love without craziness? Give this a chance if you haven't already. For lovers only. –Alex

Repost: King Crimson “Red” (1974)

2010-12-08T21:49:00.000-08:00

A caged beast of a record, and easily this group's best, it strips away most of their obscurantist pretensions to serve up a guitar bass and drum assault that runs frequently into the red and is something to behold: Bruford's drumming is jaw-dropping, while Fripp plays with a dark metallic intensity that suggests he's one of rock's wasted talents. I can even put up with John Wetton here, whose ferocious bass playing is more like a second (maybe third) lead instrument and whose singing has a kind of macho bravura that suits this music's seething intensity. Still, the beast is caged. I'm always a little let down by the second side, which is what keeps Red from essentially essential status, with the wandering "Providence" (another crack at the improv-based excursions heard on the previous album) and the somewhat undercooked "Starless." No, I'm not kidding: "Starless," which many listeners seem to think is a masterpiece, could've used a little more work. I'm forever disappointed by the whole trajectory of this track, which at 12-some minutes would've benefited from a few more (the majestic ending should've been lengthier, to provide a kind of bookend equivalent to the sturm-und-drang of "Red;" it may be quibbling, but it's my party and I'll cry if I want to). So, instead of the Godzilla of prog-rock tracks, "Starless" is merely a woolly mammoth. This group never made the great record they should've made. This one's the only one that comes close. And oh so close. –Will

Go-Go’s “Beauty and the Beat” (1981)

2010-12-06T11:47:00.000-08:00

Much as the Rock press would like to think, The Go-Go's were never Punk Rock. What they did take from Punk was the ethos rather than the music, the ability to form a band from a group of like minded individuals who perform music, disregarding technical musical ability or preconceived notion that rock is a masculine world, and for a brief moment they were the Darlings of the music industry. "Beauty And The Beat" is a testament to this ethic, brash, fun, slightly shambolic, but always heartfelt Power Pop. Formed in 1978 and originally called The Misfits and made up of Belinda Carlisle (Vocals), Jane Wiedlin (Guitar, Vocals), Charlotte Caffey (Guitar, Vocals), Margot Olaverra (Bass), and Elissa Bello (Drums), the band's major breakthrough would come through building a following from their support slot for British Ska nutty boys, Madness, and this led to a contract with Stiff Records for a one off single "We Got The Beat". The major record labels showed an interest in both the single and the live following the band were attracting, and The Go-Go's signed to IRS in early 1981. This, their debut would reach number 1 in the Billboard album charts for 6 weeks and would eventually go to sell over 2 million copies. Spiky Power Pop at its best, the Jane Wiedlin/Terry Hall co-composed single "Our Lips Are Sealed" would be the star attraction, along with other highlights including "We Got The Beat", "This Town", "Lust To Love", and the fine closer "Can't Stop The World". A surprisingly assured album, that carries alongside its demure directness, a touching astuteness. –Ben H

Tim Buckley “Starsailor” (1970)

2010-12-02T19:27:00.000-08:00

Tim Buckley had already begun to alienate his folkie fanbase with “Lorca” a few months earlier– what the hell was up with this golden-voiced disciple of Fred Neil? Why would he release an album filled with meandering free jazz-like structures and vocal gymnastics that made it sound as though he was being disemboweled? Well, if they wuz bewildered by “Lorca,” “Starsailor” musta felt like a kick in the groin. Not only was it a continuation of the avant garde themes which in hindsight, he’d barely scratched, it was a full-on operetta revolving around the pit of anguish that burned in his guts; he also began to fully utilize the five and a half octave vocal range he had at his disposal.

I’m gonna hazard a guess that Buckley had been listening intently to Leon Thomas– particularly his work with Pharaoh Sanders on “Karma.” He liberally borrows Thomas’ conventional-croon-to-absurd-yodel on several tracks, most notably “Monterey,” a dissonant Voodoo Blues that conjures a vibe equal parts atavistic ritual and sleazy mating call. Bunk Gardner, late of the Mothers of Invention, provides some Ornette-esque sax squawk, further pushing the song into uncharted territory– at least for the early 1970’s zeitgeist. “Moulin Rouge” is a brief slice of Franco-Pop that coulda easily been recorded by Edith Piaf– I only mention it as it is one of the few cuts that provides a respite from the suffocating melancholy and bordering on psychedelic experimentation that makes up the rest of the LP. For instance, the ethereal title track is akin to smoking far too much DMT, only to discover that instead of encountering the promised elves hiding in the artificial netherworld, you find yourself surrounded by bloodthirsty, shapeless abominations far outside the realms of HP Lovecraft’s worst nightmares. Lee Underwood’s stellar guitar work also deserves a nod. His connection with Buckley borders on preternatural– be it the spare, mournful licks he uses to accompany Tim’s wounded wail on the oft-covered/butchered “Song to the Siren,” or the majestic, fleet-fingered riffs that double Buckley’s vocal on “Come Here Woman.”

If you’re new to the elder Buckley, this may not be the best place to start. I’d recommend “Dream Letter: Live in London” for virgins, as well as for fans of his offspring, a certain Jeff. –Jake P

Mercyful Fate “Melissa” (1983)

2010-12-01T11:11:00.000-08:00

Melissa unleashed the dark majesty of Mercyful Fate on welcoming hordes of eager metalheads ready to set sail on a lake of fire, the band picking up where Priest left off with their late 70's platters of pain and injecting an elevated sophistication and malevolence embodied in the angelic blasphemor wails of King Diamond. While the edge of Melissa's sacrifical blade is slightly dulled by the tangled fortress "Satan's Fall" on side two, the purity of purpose in classics like "Evil," grave robbing "Curse of the Pharaohs," and the pummeling "Black Funeral" let loose such torrents of spectral ferocity and hell-spawned riffage that Melissa stands as an all-consuming plethora of wicked delights. –Ben

The Isley Brothers “3 + 3” (1973)

2010-11-29T11:33:00.000-08:00

“3 + 3” is a celebratory achievement on a number of levels. The radical shift for many soul acts that were popular in the 60s was to relinquish the sweetly string drenched sounds for a stripped down, harder, rock influenced edge. This 1973 recording is a perfect example of how a band can successfully augment a new style and yet maintain the sumptuous tunes and tight grooves. The full time introduction of younger brothers Ernie (guitar) and Marvin (bass) Isley and cousin Chris Jasper (keyboards) to the fold adds a fresh dynamic and a realisation that the older siblings could count on a level of instrumental originality to compliment their obvious vocal skills. Ernie Isley’s dominating licks bear an uncanny resemblance to the skilled grandeur of Santana, even Hendrix. Chris Jasper’s keyboard embellishments disprove the thought that Stevie Wonder was the only black artist who was experimenting with new sonic textures.

The first revelation is the re-recording of “That Lady”, a song that had been in the Isley Brothers back catalogue for 10 years. The extended jam and Ernie Isley’s ecstatic lead gives the song a remarkable resonance that brilliantly invents new silks from old threads. Their version of Seals And Croft’s tepid “Summer Breeze” adds the beautiful vocal harmonies that came so naturally to the brothers, and for this reviewer is THE definitive interpretation of the song. The heartfelt “Don’t Let Me Be Lonely Tonight” harks to their former glories without a hint of cliché. “If You Were There” is simple joyful pop, and their version of The Doobie Brothers “Listen To The Music” bravely pumps up the funk for a new take on a tried and trusted tune. It’s all here, in triplicate, and without doubt constitutes one of the most entertaining soul albums of the 70s. “3 + 3” is The Isley Brothers watershed moment. –Ben H

Phil Manzanera/801 “801 Live” (1976)

2010-11-24T11:12:00.000-08:00

Not your every day live album, 801 Live captures the supergroup featuring ex-Roxy Musicians Phil Manzanera and Brian Eno in one of their few performances. Featuring all the sonic detail, colorful guitar and synthesizer tones, and high-class musicianship you'd expect from such a lineup, another pleasant surprise here is the excellent recording, which almost sounds more like a studio album. A subtle, delicate style informs many of these performances, highlighting tracks from Eno and Manzanera's early solo albums, the Quiet Sun album, and skewed reworkings of "Tomorrow Never Knows" and "You Really Got Me." Brainy and electronic, but warm and human as well, 801 Live is an essential purchase for fans of the musicians involved, or seventies art-rock in general. –Ben

Joni Mitchell “The Hissing of Summer Lawns” (1975)

2010-11-21T13:17:00.000-08:00

And so, the dazzling beauty of Court and Spark carries on with The Hissing of Summer Lawns. Musically, it continues in a similar vein - an all-star lineup effortlessly shifting between Pop, Folk and Jazz, playing rich, multi-layered arrangements which never overpower Joni, whose main concern is always the song and its words. The lyrics have become more intimate, more melancholic on The Hissing of Summer Lawns and so has the music. Again, one or two songs don't meet my undivided approval (Shadows and Light and The Jungle Line, even though the song marks the beginning of a lasting Pop format, the attempt to create a multicultural world music, ten years before Peter Gabriel, Sting and others), but the rest is again of celestial beauty. Even Joni, who would go on to record important albums until today, wasn't able to match the artistic consistency and beauty of Court And Spark and The Hissing of Summer Lawns until many years later, with Turbulent Indigo and Travelogue. –Yofriend

The La’s “The La’s” (1990)

2010-11-17T11:29:00.000-08:00

Even though John Power was an essential member of The La's, I'm loathe to label the band the forerunner of Cast. There are some similarities in the homogeneous nature of the pop music but Power had little to do with writing anything for The La's. The band was almost the private property of Lee Mavers who, if proof were needed of that fact, took it upon himself to destroy the only copy of the master tapes for the proposed second album because he was dissatisfied with the results. An action which ensured the self-destruction of the band. On the one hand the band's demise was a cause for pity. The timeless nature of some of the songs, particularly "There She Goes", hinted at them being around for some time to come. However, on the other hand, the perfectionist disposition of Mavers would probably result in interminable periods of time between albums during which the fickle music fan would have moved on to pastures new. Whilst the songs smack of a long Merseyside tradition for producing enduring pop, Mavers almost hypnotises the listener by repeating the same word or phonetic sounds throughout. The effect lulls you into a trance-like state and the music carries you with it. It really is quite an amazing album and one for which a follow-up would have been eagerly awaited. –Ian

The Human League “Dare!” (1981)

2010-11-15T11:17:00.000-08:00

When Ian Craig Marsh and Martyn Ware left the Human League following the release of the band's second album "Travelogue", one would have thought that the sole remaining member Philip Oakey would have either called it a day, or risked a solo career. When the music press revealed that he was re-assembling the new Human League with an unknown Bass player ( Ian Burden), a slide projector operator (Philip Adrian Wright), two girls he had met in Sheffield club with no musical experience whatsoever (Joanne Catherall and Susanne Sulley), and a guitarist from the long defunct Punk band The Rezillos (Jo Callis), many must have thought that Oakey had lost the plot, and the world was half expecting the next appointment to ba a fire eating lion tamer from Halifax. Virgin uneasily supported Oakey's moves and recording started on the band's 3rd album "Dare", with The Stranglers producer Martin Rushent at the helm. Musically, Oakey wanted to retain the mechanical, industrial synthesised instrumentation and style, but introduce a Pop and Dance element to make the music a more viable proposition to the growing New Romantic following. He suceeds, and "Dare" is THE best Pop/Synth/New Romantic album of the era, a culmination of great Pop songs, dark vocals, and simple, crisp instrumentation, resulting in a number one album in the U.K. and a top 5 success in the States. There are many highlights, from the pure Pop duets "Don't You Want Me" and "Open Your Heart", the brilliant Dance numbers "Sound Of The Crowd" and "Love Action", the upbeat "Things That Dreams Are Made Of", and the paranoic "Darkness". A masterpiece of it's time, and Oakey would never be able to recapture this moment again. The album gave us an excitement that no one had come close to. –Ben H

Parliament “Funkentelechy vs. the Placebo Syndrome” (1977)

2010-11-14T10:36:00.000-08:00

George Clinton was unstoppable. The previous album The Clones Of Dr. Funkenstein was good, but this LP is unbelievable. Bob Gun opens the album with danceable Funk. Then, Sir Nose d'Voidoffunk: aside from being ultra-funky and the "lyrics" mad beyond control, the music here may be the most advanced and far-reaching of all Parliament tracks. Just listen to Bernie Worrell's synth wizardry and his abstract comments on the acoustic piano, Clinton's Sir Nose travesty, the girls' background vocals, the brass arrangement, the fat bass - at a running time of more than ten minutes, this song is a miracle! Other highlights: Funkentelechy (also over ten minutes long) and the hit, Flash Light . –Yofriend

The Velvet Underground “1969: The Velvet Underground Live with Lou Reed” (1974)

2010-11-12T21:32:00.000-08:00

"Good evening, we're the Velvet Underground.” It's a far cry from another intro uttered that same year: "Ladies and gentleman, the greatest rock and roll band in the world…” Lou Reed’s intro is obviously more understated and, coming from a notoriously prickly New Yorker, surprisingly cordial. And it goes on for awhile... After asking the audience if they would prefer a one-long-set or two-set performance, we get a recap of a Dallas Cowboys game. Almost a full minute and a half has passed when, out of nowhere, Reed casually states, "this is a song called I'm Waiting for My Man". The band then wastes no time locking into an historic, rock-solid groove.

1969: The Velvet Underground Live with Lou Reed has always been a VU fan favorite, but it’s overshadowed by the band's iconic studio catalog. Misguided marketing and lame packaging are also to blame for its somewhat limited cult status. Released in 1974, during the most lucrative period of Lou Reed’s solo career, Mercury’s insistence on using his name in the title implied that other members of the VU were little more than his backing band, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The inner gatefold spread is also misleading, depicting an earlier and different (in both sound and appearance) incarnation of the band. Finally there’s the cover itself, which, in the immortal words of Patti Smith, “eats shit”. Despite this indifferent misrepresentation, this record is the first and last word in any discussion about the Velvet Underground as a live act. Almost all of the band’s classics are here, given new life---sometimes even bettered---by Reed's remarkably expressive vocals (one pines for the days when he actually sang), Sterling Morrison’s precision guitar work, Mo Tucker’s majestically simplistic drumming, and the melodic bass-playing of the most under-appreciated VU member, Doug Yule. Surprisingly large amounts of live VU performances were recorded, but this collection---the bulk of which was culled from a multi-night engagement at a tiny club in Dallas---has the best sound quality of any that have survived. It’s a different sound than the sharp and crackly production of the 1967 "Banana" LP: bluesier, and with a bottom that rattles the windows and shakes the floors. It's the sound of a band that’s been honing its craft in divey clubs and ballrooms across the US for over a year, and which, during the last few months of the 60’s, delivers the best live Rock and Roll show on either side of the Mississippi. –Richard P

XTC “English Settlement” (1982)

2010-11-11T10:41:00.000-08:00

What on earth was I thinking of? After English Settlement I gave up on XTC for 20 years! There's simply no excuse. I knew the first time I heard English Settlement I was listening to a classic and yet I still let my interest lapse. This is probably one of the most perfectly crafted double albums by any English band, notwithstanding Exile On Main Street and London Calling. It contains such complex, intricate constructions the word "song" seems too restrictive a word to describe their function. Like an absorbing novel, a spectacular movie or a sumptuous meal, this album can be enjoyed on many levels. There was an abridged version of English Settlement released at the same time as this double and I'm aware that many prefer it, feeling it cuts out the filler. I've never heard it and I never want to. Listening to English Settlement today, I can't think of a single track I'd want to get rid of. It would be like choosing a favourite from among my kids.

Considering how perfect this album is I've always felt that it was around the release of English Settlement that it all started going wrong for XTC. An overstressed and exhausted Andy Partridge was overtaken by stage-fright and suffered a breakdown soon after the album's release. As a result the album passed relatively unnoticed. How huge could this band have been if given the opportunity to publicise and tour English Settlement? How huge could this band have been if Partridge had ever been able to overcome his fear? Tragic really.

Even though Colin Moulding contributes the ska rhythms of "English Roundabout", the twisted "Fly On The Wall" and the excellent "Ball And Chain", English Settlement really is Partridge's album. "Senses Working Overtime" would provide the band with their only top ten single. "All Of A Sudden (It's Too Late)" is simply sublime. "Yacht Dance" is a mix of pure pop and English folk and Dave Gregory's Spanish guitar is a revelation and the flamenco rhythms continue to ripple through anti-gun rant "Melt The Guns". "It's Nearly Africa" brings the sounds of that continent into XTC's quaintly weird world and "Snowman" takes what is well-worn subject matter for a song – a crumbling relationship – and comes at it from an unusual perspective.

English Settlement is a fabulous album but, amazingly, still isn't the high point for XTC but, as an example of the quintessential English band playing the quintessential English eccentrics, it's difficult to beat. –Ian

Queen “Jazz” (1978)

2010-11-08T10:16:00.000-08:00

In comparison to much of the Queen back catalogue, this album has been ripped apart, criticised, and sometimes even ridiculed to the point that one begins to believe in the negativity and almost approaches this 1978 release with a view that it is going to stink however hard one tries to judge it objectively. O.K, it doesn't contain any of the anthemic masterpieces one had become accustomed to. There is no "Bohemian Rhapsody", "Somebody To Love", " We Are The Champions", or "We Will Rock You". Yes it does open with one of the most bizarre songs the band would ever record, the pseudo Arabesque "Mustapha", which must have been a shock to regular fans.Yes one has to agree that their choice to stage an all nude female bicycle race at Wimbledon Racetrack and include a poster of the event with the album was not the most inspired promotonal strategy, particularly when one considers that The Womens Liberation Movement were at that time getting a certain amount of empathy for their vehement stand against Playboy, Miss World, and anything that showed women as objects for masculine amusement. Although the album would be released with the poster in the U.K, both Kmart and Sears in the States refused to handle "Jazz" with the poster, so American fans would only be able to purchase through Mail order. (It sounds like a Spinal Tap scene doesn't it ?). The American press were particularly scathing, Rolling Stone reviewer Dave Marsh panned "Jazz", and added "Queen may be the first truly Fascist Rock band".

So..is "Jazz" really that bad ? Quite honestly, no it isn't , it's actually a good album. Ostensibly, it is the most diverse Queen album up to that period but much of the material is strong, entertaining, and one gets the impression that the band enjoyed "stretching themselves", both musically and generically. The fun element of this recording comes through on songs like the macho Rocker "Fat Bottomed Girls", the magnificent multi tracked Vocal arrangement on "Bicycle Race", and the double entendre filled "Don't Stop Me Now", a whirling soaring Pop/Rock song on speed, and easily the best cut from the album. Freddie's ballad "Jealousy" is gentle and sweetly performed and works well as does Brian May's "Leaving Home Ain't Easy". The Roger Taylor songs are pretty bad ("Fun It", clunky Disco Rock) and ("More Of That Jazz", badly edited reprise music) and the John Deacon song "In Only Seven Days" seems like an act of appeasement so that all the band members can be recognised as song contributors.

"Jazz" really needs to be re-considered as a good album that was dumbed down by a Rock press who really didn't understand that every top Rock band needs to diversify at some stage in their career, and although this isn't Queen's best work, it is at times both fun and entertaining. –Ben H

Miles Davis “My Funny Valentine” (1965)

2010-11-04T22:18:00.000-07:00

Never has there been such a perfect example of the difference between what we might call the Apollonian and Dionysian (if we were utterly pretentious). In February 1964, Miles Davis and his then band -- Tony Williams on drums, Ron Carter on bass, Herbie Hancock on piano and George Coleman on sax -- played a concert at New York's Philharmonic Hall that was subsequently split for release on two LPs. The fast numbers went on Four and More, a fun little album but no great shakes; there's plenty of power, but not much else. The ballads, though, wound up here, and the end result is one of the most beautiful and moving jazz records I own. It's stunningly delicate; the five musicians play with almost ESP-like sensitivity to each other. Listen, though, to Miles; he has rarely played with such lyricism, such emotion. "Stella by Starlight" in particular sounds like a direct connection to a place far deeper than any he has gone before. Naked, and necessary. –Brad

The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band “The Doughnut in Granny's Greenhouse” (1968)

2010-11-03T23:15:00.000-07:00

The great lost psychedelic album. On their second album the Bonzos knock off the trad jazz parodies and pair their surreal lyrics and wild imaginations with rock music to match. Neil Innes still gets to sing the catchiest songs -- "Beautiful Zelda", for instance, examines the perils of dating a space alien -- but Vivian Stanshall beats him with what could be the band's mission statement, "My Pink Half Of The Drainpipe". Plus there's the amazing Love parody "We Are Normal" ("and we dig Bert Weedon!"). The summit, though, is the too awesome for words "Rhinocratic Oaths", which, with its cheery narration ("You should get out more, Percy, or you'll start acting like a dog, ha ha ... He was later arrested near a lamp-post") reveals the Bonzo's ultimate truth: that there is nothing so lunatic as what passes for everyday life. (Hey, that Dada/Doo-Dah wasn't in their name for nothing.) If you have any spark of imagination or individuality, you must get this record. –Brad

Royal Trux “Cats and Dogs” (1993)

2010-11-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

At a time when punk and indie were well into the mainstream, and everyone involved was flexing their love for all the classic rock heavies, little seemed to hit the target. Too much irony, too much 90's production, no balance. It's like punk was stuck in some kind of endless halloween. Royal Trux by all means should have blended right in; Stones worshiping hipster junkies playing dress up while kind of fumbling around with 70's licks. Yet, somehow, they're just so fucking cool that you cant deny their magnetic draw. Their vibe is smeared all over their sound and look and record covers in a way that makes up for EXTREME looseness at some points, by glorifying the superficial and criminal side of rock. "Cats and Dogs" is RTX at their peak of form, blending an avant-punk aesthetic with early 70's rock grooves. The end result is a sort of 4-track collaged mess of vocals and guitars rolling all over the place like you're listening to "Tonight's the Night", "White Light, White Heat", and "Maggot Brain" at the same time. Shit is loose, man. Perfect for stoned chillin' with the lights down. A great homage to rock history, check out this LP. –Alex

Magazine “Real Life” (1978)

2010-10-31T23:20:00.000-07:00

You can't seem to pick up a music magazine nowadays without some interviewee citing Howard Devoto and Magazine as defining influences upon their own musical aspirations. Either that or some sycophantic retrospective which seems totally out of proportion for a band who were nothing more than a mote in the eye of music chronology. Amazingly, in this case, the hype is totally justified. Unhappy with the direction The Buzzcocks were taking and, possibly, recognising the limited shelf life of punk, Devoto formed Magazine and attempted to weave punk conviction into a more conventional and structured rock format. I'm convinced that longevity was no more guaranteed down this route, but it proved a panoramic trip whilst it lasted. The album is full of highlights and some quite astounding musical performances, particularly the bass and keyboards on the likes of "Definitive Gaze". Messrs Adamson, McGeoch, Jackson and Formula deserve praise. Personally I have reservations about Devoto's vocal style but as a discordant counterpoint to the music it works perfectly. "Shot By Both Sides" is spiky rock at its best and "The Light Pours Out Of Me" remains in my personal top twenty to this day. Magazine paved the path for post punk, pity they couldn't walk the road for longer themselves. –Ian

J.J. Cale “Troubadour” (1976)

2010-10-29T23:49:00.000-07:00

J.J. Cale's fourth album Troubadour is a mixed stew of everything from country, jazz, arena rock, blues, folk to funk; and that's just in the first song. He manages to whisper like Nick Drake, growl like John Lee Hooker and wine like Dylan...did I mention he's an extremely adept guitar player as well? Cale's songs have been covered by many artists, the most famous being "Cocaine" by Eric Clapton, but here we have the original; stripped down, but somehow fuller, with funky jabs and clumsy power chords. There's also some simple love songs as well, "Hey Baby" never gets too corny with jazzy horn phrases intertwining with country style chicken-pickin.' "Travelin' Light" is an intense study of the driving song with guitars and vibes throughout, pulsing like highway lines in the corner of your eye. This record is about the groove, while brilliant arrangements and clever instrumentation provide the texture, making everything unclassifiable. –ECM Tim

The Zombies “Odessey and Oracle” (1968)

2010-10-28T23:43:00.000-07:00

If elegantly arranged chamber pop going for baroque is your cup of tea, get out your best china. Just about every minute of this record is beautifully constructed and rich in mood, and the arrangements are continuously compelling: comparisons with other groups don’t suffice, because this is a record on its own terms. The Zombies were kind of a musician’s group; all very good players writing very conscientiously for accessibility and sophistication (rather like those Beatles blokes, but I wasn't gonna compare). Even if this disc falls off a bit on the second half, which isn’t wall-to-wall classic, the vocal harmonies and the variety of musical textures these guys manage to wring out of every chord should satisfy, even when the song isn’t quite spot-on. But jeepers, when they're on, they are really on. One of the high water marks of ’60s pop. –Will

Les McCann “Layers” (1974)

2010-10-27T10:24:00.000-07:00

Think of the work of the following artists in the early seventies: Tonto's Expanding Head Band, The Mizell Brothers, Lonnie Liston Smith, Stevie Wonder, George Duke, Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis. If you like their work, you'll like - love - this album. Aside from an electric bass and three percussionists, this is the epitome of a keyboard album. By overdubbing (this was the first album recorded in 32-track format), McCann employs ARP synths, clavinet, Fender-Rhodes e-piano, and piano to simulate horns, woodwinds, and whatnot. On the basis of funky grooves, he creates a reflective atmosphere that's both nostalgic and futuristic. The album is structured like a suite, with the tunes fading into each other. The result is something that could be called Prog-Jazz. McCann created a visionary sound when he recorded this album in '72. Layers is a groundbreaking Fusion album from the early seventies when fusion was not yet something to be ashamed of. The record belongs to the best of that genre. –Yofriend

Rush “2112” (1976)

2010-10-26T10:34:00.000-07:00

Rush's first truly definitive release, 2112 kickstarts a run that would vault the power trio to the top of the heap among Canada's rock exports. Sporting an iconic sleeve and crystal-clear production values, the album has come to define Rush's early sound, featuring traditional hard rock retooled with progressive precision, while lyricist Neil Peart's mix of philosophy and fantasy would ignite the sci-fi dreams of pimply-faced rockers for years to come. The epic title suite covers the whole of side one, and credits it's dystopian storyline to author Ayn Rand's Anthem, whose individualist outlook would fuel the lyrical fire of many a Rush classic. The track tells it's Saturday afternoon story of futuristic rebellion with an interwoven set of songs ranging from the complex "Overture" section and barnstorming "Temples of Syrinx," through the delicate "Discovery," tortured "Soliloquy" and tear-down-the-walls "Grand Finale." The remainder of 2112 in no way pales in comparison to it's flip side, boasting the fan favorite wacky-tabaccy ode "A Passage to Bangkok," supernatural imagery of "The Twilight Zone," and self-reliant rocker "Something For Nothing." As the critics looked on in dumbfounded disbelief, the sounds of 2112 filled the bedrooms and basements of suburban exiles worldwide, who from then on would live in anticipation of the next time they could lay their comic book ink-stained fingers on a new Rush album. –Ben

Labelle “Chameleon” (1976)

2010-10-24T10:56:00.000-07:00

Labelle’s Chameleon was released in 1976. Like its namesake, the album emphasizes the group’s range of styles—Doo-wop, Funk, Latin, and Hard Rock. Here, Patti Labelle, Sarah Dash and Nona Hendryx pull out all the stops and simultaneously accomplish the apex of their career while arriving to their swansong. Starting the LP, “Get You Somebody New”, a kiss off to a spurned lover, captures Labelle at a feverish pitch. Puncturing the wall of funk with spine-tingling shouts of “Heart’s desire”, Sara trades off with Patti and Nona, who themselves answer back “I can’t stand it!” running over a rough sea of rocky soul. Next, “Come Into My Life”, in its sultriness, beckons you like a cool drink of water. “Isn’t It a Shame”, a stirring ballad, perhaps their finest, is dedicated to the lovelorn. Each singer’s voice is pure and raw, retaining the melancholy of the moment: “Isn’t it a shame that such a love like this must end”. Turning a full 360˚, “Who’s Watching the Watcher” is a high-voltage dose of gospel-injected rock ‘n’ roll. Trading lyrics, Patti and Nona question authority and shake you free from all depths of complacency. Side B of Chameleon is the group’s grand finale and, in my opinion, their best side ever. The glittering doo-wop of the title track reminds us that all in life is not what as it seems, but the truth will set you free “Come with me, If you believe.” The song whips into to a furious conclusion before segueing into the exhilarating “Gypsy Moths”. Guitar and bass start to slither downward before creeping back up over manic percussion. Just as the moment seems to lose control, it explodes, launching into Latin rhythms. “Leave your body and your mind behind and free your soul” they refrain. Through a kaleidoscopic soundscape, it liberates the body from all inhibitions. Featuring a rare lead vocal by Hendryx, “A Man in a Trenchcoat (Voodoo)”, follows in a freakish, psychedelic vibe. Then, Labelle melds both the spiritual and the sexual into charged imagery on “Going Down Makes Me Shiver”. “I’ve been down so many times and now I’ve got that perfect climb”, Labelle testifies. Enveloping, It’s both part baptism and seduction. As the song fades out, the soulful ladies sing cooingly…softly, in unity, refraining “Going, going, going…” as if to say to us and to each other, a knowing farewell. Chameleon is a fitting finale to the wondrous musical legacy that is Labelle. –Eduard

Randy Newman “Little Criminals” (1977)

2010-10-22T11:35:00.000-07:00

The more I listen to Randy Newman, the more I'm impressed. It's not his voice, even though his nasally vocal has a pleasant, relaxing quality. It's certainly not the music which on Little Criminals is particularly one paced with a soporific, dozy aspect. It's not even the lyrics. They can be incisive, biting and sardonic but they also are simple and endearing with a homey feel. No, it's none of that. What it is, is the subjects he choses to write about and the subtle twists he puts into the stories. Take the title track as a prime example. Start listening to "Little Criminals" and you have this picture of indigant locals determined to rid their town of a small-time drug dealer. But, as the song progresses, you suddenly realise his protagonists are themselves criminals worried about a newcomer taking away their business - or, even better, lowering the tone of the neighbourhood because they're into armed robbery and consider that a higher calling than drug dealing. Brilliant! Or how about "Rider In The Rain" which subverts the myth of the lone cowboy wandering the plains by reminding us of the wife he's abandoned and the fact he's "raped and pillaged" his way to the place he is now. Or "In Germany Before The War" which conjures up a picture of a old guy shutting up his store every day to wander down to the banks of the Rhine to gaze out over the river. Only this guy is (I think) Peter Kurten, a real-life serial killer, preying on defenceless children. And all that's without mentioning Newman's dig at psychiatry in "Sigmund Freud's Impersonation Of Albert Einstein In America" or how appearances can be deceptive with "Jolly Coppers On Parade". And another example of how satire can backfire in "Small People" which a great many people took offence to because they believed Newman was deadly serious. Although, thinking about it, I suppose it wasn't technically a backfire as the song became a massive hit! As you would expect there are a couple of tender love songs - "Kathleen (Catholicism Made Easy)" and "I'll Be Home". Plus the song "Baltimore" is particularly affecting as I visited the city very recently. I think there must have been a great deal of urban regeneration since that song was written because Newman's Baltimore is a far bleaker and darker place than I saw. I don't think Newman will ever release a classic album because of the way he writes. The uncertainty of the does he mean it? is he joking? is unsettling and uncomfortable and makes it impossible to like everything. But I'm equally convinced that, after hearing just two of his albums, there will always be something for me to enjoy on all his others. –Ian

Charlie Parker & Dizzy Gillespie “Bird and Diz”

2010-10-21T10:50:00.000-07:00

This is hardly a typical recording, but I have to say that this is my favorite jazz album ever recorded. It's the only recording to have Thelonious Monk playing together with Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, which in itself is pretty amazing. Although their styles are so distinct, they do play quite well together. Hearing them playing together is almost surreal. It's hard for me to describe how and why I like this album. I think the main reason that I like it is that it's so strange and so normal at the same time. The tunes exemplify this...two catchy blues (Bloomdido and Mohawk), a laid-back song to the same chord changes as "Stompin at the Savoy" (Relaxin' with Lee), a slowish and rather bizarre rhythm-changes tune (An Oscar for Treadwell), leap frog which is just ridiculously fast, and rather cheerful...and then...my melancholy baby. And of course...bizarre stuff happens to the harmonies and rhythms when you put these musicians together. One moment it sounds so old-fashioned, the next moment totally modern. I love it all the way! –Alex

Circle Jerks “Group Sex” (1980)

2010-10-19T21:38:00.000-07:00

When Keith Morris left seminal Californian Punksters Black Flag, it was obvious he needed something even more shocking, for pushing the boundaries of music and taste was it seems his ambition. So in 1979 he formed Circle Jerks with Greg Hetson (Guitar), Roger Rogerson (Bass), and Lucky Lehrer (Drums). A reputation for the most wild local shows and enormous amounts of alcohol intake onstage and off started the folklore legend which attracted the disaffected SoCal Skater punks. The debut “Group Sex” is amazing by its brevity, with 14 songs spanning just under 16 minutes. It’s typical early American Punk thrash, razor sharp lyrics, tinny production and songs covering Politics, middle class Hollywood malaise, drugs, and of course sex... What seems unusual for the time and the sentiment, is that Hetson is a strong Guitarist and musically the band seems tight which in turn raises the quality above many of the bands of the period. The highlights include “I Just Want Some Skank”, “Beverly Hills” and “World Up My Ass”.That same year, the group was one of several California punk bands to be immortalized in the Penelope Spheeris documentary “The Decline of Western Civilization”, and live versions of four songs from “Group Sex” appear on the movie's soundtrack album. “Group Sex” is a rabid pulsing slice of aggression liberally smattered with gruff and gritty lyrics from Morris. Though not essential, it’s a useful snapshot of American Punk circa 1980. –Ben

Rudimentary Peni "Death Church" (1983)

2010-10-19T19:46:00.000-07:00

Pick up any Rudimentary Peni album an stare at it's wild cover art for awhile. This is what it will most likely sound like; total no-pose insanity, and in a very dark shade. This is all a product of Nick Blinko (aka Rudimentary Peni) who's demented art and mind grace every square inch of every Peni release. 1983's "Death Church" is probably the most accessable album, but in no way comprimises to sanity. Subtle mind altering sonic tone rolls off what would otherwise be generic, mid-tempo, three chord death rock cuts. While their earlier work had more of a harsh UK hardcore edge, and later they went absolutely bonkers making LSD trip style punk sound collages, Death Church keeps a cool 4/4 pace through the whole record that makes it sound like some sort of meaty saturday night car cruising music that goths can get down to, which is nuts enough in itself but then it's also super Brittish sounding? I dont know, man. What can I say, the guy's crazy. And you are too if you don't give this raging slab a listen. –Alex

Jellyfish “Bellybutton” (1990)

2010-10-18T12:28:00.000-07:00

From The Beatles right through to the likes of The Lightning Seeds, Britain has a knack of producing bands who deliver a brand of pure, polished pop. The content may have dark or serious overtones but the melody and vocals carry a rare, unblemished character. When a band is lauded as new pop sensations in America don’t expect the same characteristics. In some respects our pop is their AOR whilst their pop arrives way over from left field. They Might Be Giants and Eels are good illustrations of this idiosyncrasy and Jellyfish can be added to that list. They may have more rounded edges than the others but, underneath, they are equally strange. Vocally the closest comparison to Jellyfish is Crowded House (Andy Sturmer even sounds like Neil Finn), but when it comes to lyrical content they are a mile apart. Absent fathers ("The Man I Used To Be"), prostitution ("The King Is Half Undressed"), marital abuse ("She Still Loves Him"), rampant consumerism and parental neglect ("All I Want Is Everything") are all covered. It's testimony to the skill of the band that, no matter how heavy the subject, the music retains a lightness of touch to stop proceedings becoming too maudlin. Special mention should also be given to "I Wanna Stay Home" and "Baby's Coming Back" which, on their own, prove that Jellyfish was definitely a band that got away. –Ian

Automatic Man “Automatic Man” (1976)

2010-10-16T10:48:00.000-07:00

There he is again. That Blue Space Alien staring out, empty-eyed from my LP collection. As if using telepathy, he beckons me to reach out for him, pull out his vinyl body and put him my turntable. It’s funny how after all these years since I first saw him in the record bins at Peaches Records in Ohio, he still has that effect on me. But I know the real lure of this LP is not the Alien, but the Space-Fusion Prog of the band, that brings me back to play that album. Automatic Man’s debut LP, in my opinion is on the best of the fusion/prog era, perhaps equaling Return To Forever's classic Romantic Warrior.
Automatic Man was a super-group of sorts. The self-titled debut album featured a stellar lineup: Keyboard player and singer Bayete, whose voice eerily resembles Jimi Hendrix, played with Stanley Clark. S.F. Bay area musician Doni Harvey, ex-Gong, played bass. Pat Thrall, was a member of Stomu Yamashita's band Go, was on guitar. Formerly of Santana, legendary percussionist Michael Shrieve blazed on drums.
This isn't a loose jam session or self-indulgent doodling, this is an album driven by strong songwriting. The opening “Atlantis Rising/Comin’Through” displays a sound that manages to keep its footings firmly in the here and now, whilst simultaneously oozing an air of futuristic soundscapes that render it ripe for evoking mental imagery. Power number "My Pearl”, with its driving funk/synth vibe, demonstrate that Automatic Man had the chops to craft a pop single. Pat Thrall’s riffs even give you the impression that Hendrix has been transported back from the dead to appear, or even cloned! You got to check out Thrall’s the guitar solo on the title track. It’s got to be the best solo that no one has ever heard! The lush keyboard arrangements add a reverberating layer of an almost alien-like displacement to the overall sound of the proceedings. Meanwhile, breezier numbers such as "One 'N One" and "Newspapers" exhibit a more other-worldly, cold sound, as if lying on a beach on Pluto (does Pluto have beaches?)

Space references aside, this album really rocks. There is no filler on this LP and is truly a satisfying listen. If you see the Blue Alien, let him beam you aboard for the ride. –Ed

Japan “Adolescent Sex” (1978)

2010-10-14T23:22:00.000-07:00

Deciding enough’s enough is a tough call to make at the best of times. For a band accustomed to fame and its requisite trappings the severance must be that much harder. So it’s understandable why so many plow on regardless of their relevance or quality of work. The Stones, for instance, will continue until someone drops dead but their sound will remain timeless. On the other hand, Bon Jovi have had nothing to say since the early 90s but refuse to accept the fact. Japan belong to an elite club. Although diehards will argue, they jacked it in at just the right time leaving a stunning, if flawed, volume of work. I’ve always had a preference for their original incarnation as trash glam funksters a la New York Dolls or Hanoi Rocks but they were criminally ignored. There is some quite brilliant guitar playing from Rob Dean, particularly on "Suburban Love", "Wish You Were Black" and "Television" but this, along with David Sylvian's strangled, sneering, kazoo-like vocals were lost when they turned towards the New Romantic movement. Their musical vista of the seedy, dangerous, disposable isolation of modern day living deserves retrospective re-evaluation. –Ian

Mike Oldfield “Tubular” Bells (1973)

2010-10-12T21:04:00.000-07:00

It's difficult to asess the importance of "Tubular Bells" and indeed the career of Mike Oldfield without reference to two important figures who contributed to the success of the album, Richard Branson and William Friedkin. The 19 year old Oldfield had used valuable studio time funded by Branson, to record his debut, then titled "Opus 1". Oldfield then hawked this work around the major record companies to complete rejection, and Branson, who at that time ran a mail order company, decided to form his own record company (Virgin), and release this (retitled "Tubular Bells") as the inaugural record. William Friedkin was at this time Directing the ground breaking horror flick "The Exorcist", and having heard "Tubular Bells" decided to use the opening eerie tinkling piano intro, decided to use it as the title music for the movie. And so, the die was cast and the album would go on to sell sixteen million copies worldwide, win Oldfield a Grammy award, and develop a new genre of music. It's difficult to review "Tubular Bells" as a straight Popular, Classical or Rock recording. It contains all of these genres and more, classically structured, it's a complex, startlingly unique, and undoubtedly valiant recording. At times the sound is beautifully symphonic, at other times hauntingly powerful. Oldfield uses over thirty different musical instruments and probably just as many percussive instruments, to create a plethora of differing interludes, some gentle, some sonically robust, all linked together by intricate tempo changes perfectly exemplified about twelve minutes into side one where a delicately intricate section is cleverly interrupted by rifferama guitar crash chords which fade into the next musical excursion. The album finishes with a traditional English folk tune which perfectly concludes a divinely satisfying album. Some Oldfield fans argue that "Hergest Ridge" and "Ommadawn" are better musical performances, but I stoutly defend "Tubular Bells" because of its bravery, complexity and utter originality. "Tubular Bells" remains a colossal achievement. –Ben H

Devo “Are We Not Men?” (1978)

2010-10-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

Imagine the scene. The house lights dim on an expectant crowd. It's difficult to see through the darkness but the swish of heavy fabric announces the stage curtains being drawn back. The spots slowly rise on a stage shrouded in a huge sheet of black plastic which rises to cover the vague shape of a drum-kit. A bright beam of white light picks out movement from under the sheet and flashes off a number of blades which pierce the plastic and slash vicious tears into the black skin. Like a sci-fi caesarean Devo push themselves through, clutching instruments and dressed in vivid yellow boiler suits. It takes a little time to rip the sheet away from the drums before they launch into "Uncontrollable Urge", but it's still got to be one of the best entrances ever.

Far more guitar-led than their later releases, Are We Not Men? Was considered radical upon its release in 1978. Much closer to the punk revolution than is realised, Devo savaged the American materialistic way of life and dared to suggest that humankind was de-evolving. From sex related psycho-babble ("Uncontrollable Urge") to satellites falling from the sky ("Space Junk"), from consumerism ("Too Much Paranoias") to genetics ("Mongoloid"), this is a very strange and, on one plain, deeply disturbing album. It remains a powerful indictment of the human condition. –Ian

Bill Withers “Just As I Am” (1971)

2010-10-07T11:26:00.000-07:00

What a cool debut album! At first glance (including the cover), “Just as I Am” seems so low-key, almost unspectacular, but once you get used to these songs, and when you consider this is almost forty years ago, you come to realize just how much sophistication this guy Bill Withers had back then when he decided to record his first album. And in spite of a respectable cover version of Let It Be, Bill Withers outs himself as a respectable songwriter. His music is as related to the Blues and the Soul tradition as it is to the Folk tradition of, say, a James Taylor.
One of Bill Withers’ best records and still a great record. –Yofriend

Montrose “Montrose” (1973)

2010-10-05T10:51:00.000-07:00

Montrose’s debut was one of the premier rock albums of the seventies and remains a powerful, if little known, influence today. Featuring Ronnie Montrose, formerly of the Edgar Winter Group, on guitar and newcomer Sammy Hagar on vocals, their brand of pyrotechnic rock was totally divorced from the more blues based guitar of other bands in the field. Some of the tracks remain rock standards including "Bad Motor Scooter" and "Space Station No. 5" whose futuristic sounds the likes of Steve Vai would build a career upon. There may only be eight tracks on the album but there's not a wasted note to be heard anywhere. From the anthemic "Rock The Nation", through the wonderfully sleazy "Rock Candy", whose intro I'm sure Brian May must have ear-wigged before writing "We Will Rock You," to the brilliantly bluesy "Make It Last" this is one hell of a hard rock album and the best thing both Montrose and Hagar have ever done. This should be mandatory listening for every rock lover. –Ian

Silver Apples “Silver Apples” (1968)

2010-10-04T11:06:00.000-07:00

Considering that this kind of music was released in 1968 is amazing, but even more amazing is that it still kicks the ass of every other electro-pop-band, save perhaps Kraftwerk. The oscillators flow wildly, the drums lay mindnumbing beats and the lyrics, maybe hippie-esque considering the day, somehow seem ageless still. And it’s unbelievably catchy, like in a pop way. I could tell a funny tale about Syd Barrett finding a Close Encounters of the Third Kind-style alien mothership wrecked somewhere in the forest and going all circuit breaking on the mushrooms, but I won’t. Pioneering and reigning still. All hail the whirly-bird! –Tuukka

Replacements “Let It be” (1984)

2010-10-03T11:41:00.000-07:00

For me this is far and away the best album The Replacements ever made. Some people say that they wish rock and roll was always imbued with the spirit that The Clash brought to it on "London Calling". I could easily say the same thing about "Let it Be". This is the perfect synthesis of rock aggression and songwriting finesse. A song like "Androgynous" probably wouldn't move me so much if it had been more slickly produced. The raw beauty of these songs makes me believe in them. There have been a million songs written about adolescence but "Sixteen Blue" is one of the only ones that really feels like it. The painful yearning and confusion of being sixteen is captured perfectly in those crunching guitar chords and especially the guitar solo with which the song closes. Rather than offering release, the end of the song raises the unresolved tension higher and higher. It is full of beauty and sadness. And then we have the album closer, "Answering Machine", with its fabulous, tight guitar playing, its earnest, pleading vocal and gorgeous melodicism. This is one of the best songs ever written about romantic obsession. Indeed this is one of the best rock songs period. In its rawness, energy and its dual loyalties to grunge and melody, in 1984 this album sounded like the future itself. –Javasean

Blood, Sweat & Tears “Child Is Father to the Man” (1968)

2010-10-01T09:20:00.000-07:00

It’s easy to overlook the ubiquitous Blood, Sweat & Tears as their LPs seem to be present in almost every dollar bin in every city. Spend the buck! Their debut is an essential listen and features the unpredictable Al Kooper at the peak of his powers. The music is an eclectic fusion of progressive and psychedelic rock, blues and jazz. There are even elements of lounge music, and occasional orchestration added to the mix. The album features eight originals and four covers. The best covers are Randy Newman's uplifting Just One Smile and Carole King's So Much Love which closes the album. Most of the originals were composed by Al Kooper. His bizarre Overture opens, with it's enticing orchestrated music joined by some manic laughing. Kooper's I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know is an excellent jazzed-up blues song and Something Goin' On is a great jam that was an essential part of late 60s progressive rock. Child Is Father to the Man is an excellent experimental rock album and an important part of any 60s pop collection. –Jim

Ornette Coleman “This Is Our Music” (1961)

2010-09-28T09:50:00.000-07:00

It was over 30 years ago that I bought my first Ornette Coleman album, Free Jazz, from the second-hand record shop: it was love at first sight (first hear?). Love is inexplicable, at least to those in love, but the sound of Coleman’s alto had an immediate effect on me, an emotional connection, that continues until today. It is the early Atlantic recordings that remain at the heart of my love for Coleman. I have only been listening to This Is Our Music for the past couple of months (I feel no need to rush a love affair), but, other than Free jazz, it has become my favorite of the Coleman-Atlantic albums (but I don’t feel I have to be bound by that judgement in the future). I have heard it said that compared to other figures of the 1960s jazz avant garde Coleman now seems very tame: I think that is true, at least as far as he doesn’t howl and shout in way that threatened to blow away all our assumptions of what music should be, but then the other avant garde sax players tended to fall in behind Coltrane, in their stance of difference they tended to sound the same, while Coleman remains unique. He has created his own musical world, one I find as vivid and friendly as an Impressionist painting, and it is a world that has no successful copies. The one musician who shared this vision was Don Cherry and he is the Engels to Coleman’s Marx, the Watson to his Holmes, the Robin to his Batman – he is the lesser figure, the one who takes his imaginative world from his dominating companion, but maybe he brings Coleman closer, creating a bridge between him and us. Charlie Haden is the anchor for this music, for most of this album playing an idiosyncratic hard bop bass, it has the clear lines that stabilize the music. The exception is Beauty Is a Strange Thing where, playing with a bow, he allows the music to drift away like a cloud without any clear edges. Ed Blackwell is a unique drummer (and I much prefer him to Billy Higgins’ work on the earlier Atlantic-Coleman albums) – he is the gentlest of drummers, not giving the music the rhythmic propulsion we expect a drummer to provide, but rather a rhythmic voice responding to and answering the horns. Writing about other Coleman-Atlantic albums I have said that their great limitation is that all the tracks tend to be a bit the same – here there are two numbers that stand out for their difference: the slow and hovering Beauty Is a Rare Thing and the reinvention of Embraceable You. The latter is the only Ornette Coleman version of a standard I know – it is as though Gershwin’s melody has been replanted in a totally alien soil and it has grown in an unforeseeable way, still recognisably having the same shape, but also disturbingly different. –Nick

Kiss “Kiss” (1974)

2010-09-27T11:33:00.000-07:00

Before the merchandising, neon spandex, and nostalgia circuit, KISS were just another hard rock band with stars in/on their eyes. Kiss, the debut, is loaded with future klassics that display the Stanley/Simmons partnership's knack for grafting pop hooks to bludgeoning riffs, sporting the likes of "Deuce," "Strutter," "Nothin' to Lose," and immortal hooker drama "Black Diamond," a vocal-shy Ace checking in with urban intoxication anthem "Cold Gin," and an overlooked gem in the simple charm of "Let Me Know." While the less said about the "Kissin' Time" cover grafted on to later pressings, the better, and ignoring the fact that a certain sluggishness drags some of these recordings down compared to their Alive! revamps, Kiss remains an auspicious debut. –Ben

The Fixx “Reach the Beach” (1983)

2010-09-23T23:56:00.000-07:00

I remember seeing The Fixx on MTV when I was 13, there was always this dark sophistication surrounding them. Their sophomore album, Reach the Beach lives up to those first impressions. This record was quite a success for them with the hits "Saved by Zero", a complex tune with a hopeless optimism that seems to clash with the melody & "One thing Leads to Another", an almost dance track about deceit in relationships. The rest of the record follows suit with clean, chorus drenched guitar licks, snappy bass slaps, dissonant keyboards & those wonderful synthesized drums we all loved from the eighties. Cy Curnin's vocals croon like The Cure's Robert Smith trying to imitate Duran Duran's Simon Le Bon, in fact, the music could be described in the same way, new wave funkiness with a sense of melancholy underneath it all- like trying to dance when your sad. Slightly cynical lyrics with upbeat, yet complex arrangements spare this record from being another eighties novelty, the contradictions keep it real. –ECM Tim

Repost: 10cc “Sheet Music” (1974)

2010-09-23T22:57:00.000-07:00

10cc’s “Sheet Music” may be one of my favorite pop albums of all time, lovingly crafted songs, witty, ironic and containing themes still highly relevant even today (“Clockwork Creep” is both funny yet scary when one consideres what the world has had to endure these last few years and “Hotel” nails American Imperialism down with wit and ingenuity), musically this album never fails to surprise taking in 70’s rock (Wall Street Shuffle, Silly Love, Oh Effendi), Calypso (Hotel), Latin Rock (Baron Samedi) and pure pop (The Worst Band In The World, Clockwork Creep), however the two standouts are the most cinematic pieces on the album, “Somewhere In Hollywood” brilliantly send up Hollywood and the star system, whilst “Old Wild Men” looks forward to 10cc’s eventual decline with heart and soul. –Derek

“Sheet Music” is a perennial Jive Time favorite and one of my top ten albums of all time. Fans of Sparks, late Move and early ELO will find things to love here. For those who only know 10cc from their hits; you may be pleasantly surprised when you hear “Sheet Music.” –David

Love “Da Capo” (1966)

2010-09-21T22:05:00.000-07:00

Inhabiting a strange dimension between the Byrds-meets-the-Rolling Stones bluster of first LP and the psychedelic mariachi sprawl of Forever Changes, Love's Da Capo is a transitional album in every sense of the word. Taken together, the six songs that constitute its “Side A Suite” represent some of the best music of the 60’s, making it all the more painful that Side B represents one of the biggest let-downs in Rock History. On the opening track, “Stephanie Knows Who”, Arthur Lee not only comes into his own, but also establishes himself as one of the most unique and expressive lead vocalists of his generation. There are probably Hallmark cards that are less maudlin and sappy than the MacLean-penned second track, “Orange Skies”, but somehow, miraculously, the band’s tight playing and Lee’s delivery elevate it to greatness. The flamenco-flecked “¡Que Vida!” is a little on the fluffy side, but it’s groovy as hell. The mighty “Seven and Seven Is”, one of the few Love songs that ever charted, has been reproduced on garage compilations many times over, but hearing it here in its natural environment reveals what a massive artistic achievement it really is. Loud, fast, and intense, it could only end with the famous nuclear blast of its coda. Thankfully, respite is provided in the form of the acoustic and introspective gem, “The Castle”. Finally comes the mystical masterpiece, “She Comes in Colors”, a song so great that even the Hooters couldn’t ruin it when they covered it almost two decades later. But then there’s the meandering blues-jam, “Revelation”. Taking up that whole flipside and clocking in at almost 20 minutes, it’s perhaps unfairly maligned. On its own merits it’s not terrible, and it’s certainly not boring (live it was probably mind-blowing), but here it only detracts from the focused brilliance of what came before, and it wears out its welcome quickly. Had wiser council prevailed at Elektra, Da Capo would take its place among such giants such as Are You Experienced, Piper at the Gates of Dawn, and even its creators’ own definitive artistic statement, Forever Changes, but instead this sophomore effort has to settle for “almost great” status. However, it is still essential. –Richard

Frank Zappa “Hot Rats” (1969)

2010-09-21T11:44:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing I'm a sucker for, it's psychedelic wah-wah guitar; Eddie Hazel's Game, Dame & Guitar Thangs, Randy California's Kapt. Kopter, John McLaughlin's Devotion. And Frank Zappa's second solo effort, 1969's Hot Rats, proudly belongs among this stellar mind-blowing company. Somewhat of a break from the high-concept Mothers Of Invention, it's divided between long guitar jams, most notably "Willie The Pimp," which re-introduced Captain Beefheart to the world in all his eccentric splendor, and fusionoid instrumentals featuring multi-reedist Ian Underwood in multiple overdubs. Interestingly, Underwood's flat intonation here takes intriguing lyrical compositions such as "Little Umbellas" and "It Must be A Camel" out of jazz wannabe Weather Report territory into a more formal "classical" direction, always the underlying goal with Zappa anyway. But, in the end, Rats is a showcase for Frank to wail and he ain't fooling around! –Singersaints

Felt “The Strange Idols Pattern and Other Short Stories” (1984)

2010-09-17T16:42:00.000-07:00

"The Strange Idols Pattern..." is the masterpiece of early indiepop, although is often less considered than Felt's fifth album, the organ driven "Forever Breathes The Lonely Word". Here Maurice Deebank provides the best guitar playing I've ever heard, a constant whirl of sweet jangly picking (on a 12 string guitar I think) and sometimes classical/Spanish melodies; Lawrence encapsulates such imaginative and brilliant solo playing in wonderful three-chord songs, sung with a monotonous and subtle tone that never sounds cheesy or pathetic like Morrissey's howling. I understand that such vocals can be considered boring, but I think they're the best accompaniment for the stream of background notes that - at least for me - has to be on the frontline, while the vocals are secondary. Absolutely great album, my favourite song here is "Crystal Ball", with the best guitar work ever made by Deebank, and a constant sense of tragedy that remains subtle and never explodes, not even in the final short solo. –Gneo

Camel “The Snow Goose” (1975)

2010-09-16T10:30:00.000-07:00

The Snow Goose is an essential experience, evocative and emotional, ambitious in it's concept and execution, but accessible as well. The band manage to sustain an entirely instrumental album by filling it with brief, memorable pieces, carried by their always measured performances. While most of the album is devoted to the familiar Camel sound, they are joined in places by a small woodwinds group, expanding the scope of the music. Although you'll want to leave the needle in place once you drop it, a few especially awesome moments are worth mentioning in particular, such as the multi-dimensional "Rhayader Goes To Town", "The Snow Goose" which features some tender, spine-tingling guitar phrases, the duo of "Preparation", with it's foreboding sequencer pattern, and it's haunting, slow-boiling partner in "Dunkirk". But this is a complete, constantly unfolding album that should be heard with the lights down low, brew of choice in hand, the world of The Goose swooping into your listening room and filling the next 40 minutes with it's sublime sounds. –Ben

Leonard Cohen “Songs of Love and Hate” (1971)

2010-09-14T22:34:00.000-07:00

Never the most chipper of performers, Cohen seems to have stopped taking his happy pills here, but the album is all the better for it as far as I'm concerned. Songs about religion? Check. Anguish? Check. Love? Check. No sex though..must be his impotent period. But anyway, it's just fabulous from start to finish, and contains some of his best lyrics, especially "Avalanche", "Famous Blue Raincoat", and "Diamonds In The Mine". The latter track finds him nearly losing it like some angry lounge singer, his background vocalists barely keeping him in check. There was never any doubt Leonard Cohen was a poet, but both his written word and music shine perfectly in unison here. Speaking of poetry, if you're a woman in college right now and some smooth character is shooting you provocative looks from the poetry section in the library, run like hell. I know he's probably holding a copy of Cohen's "Beautiful Losers" and has a wine collection, but he's not worth it. Trust me. –Neal

David Crosby “If I Could Only Remember My Name” (1971)

2010-09-14T10:21:00.000-07:00

Along with Gene Clark’s “No Other” and John Philips “The Wolf King Of L.A.,” David Crosby’s “If I Could Only Remember My Name” is considered another great lost seventies classic. And rightly so! It has the lore; the album was recorded shortly after the tragic death of his partner, the line up; a who's who of the West Coast in 1971 including Neil Young, Grace Slick, Graham Nash and Jerry Garcia among others. And the songs; the haunting “Laughing” (featuring Joni Mitchell), the dreamy “Tamalpais High” and the transcendental “Orleans.” Beautiful and decadent, organic and excessive, the album perfectly captures the early seventies California sound and scene while creating something entirely unique. –David

The Blue Nile “Hats” (1989)

2010-09-12T10:05:00.000-07:00

A dear friend, who has since moved away, gave this album to me as a gift. I listened to it a few times but quickly put it away as it just struck me as confusing and just too sad. I just couldn’t figure out why he loved this LP so much. A few months after he left, I put this LP on in remembrance of him …and then unexpectedly… Suddenly, everything in my life just started washing over me... missed opportunities…triumphs…near misses… successes. They all glowed and faded all at once. But that’s how Hats by the Blue Nile struck me. In my opinion, Hats is one of the great LPs of the 80s. Ironically, every song on Hats is about love. It’s a simple concept brilliantly executed with the sort of intensity that burns into your consciousness. An album of hopeless romanticism, its message is life is a struggle but magic can still happen. Simultaneously, it dignifies your sadness and taps into the reasoning that no matter how bad you might feel or how heartbroken you are, you are not alone.

“Over the Hillside’s opening drum line evokes images of scanning the horizon, taking in knowing vistas of a merciless city with a keen eye. The lyrics. “Workin' night and day, I try to get ahead, but l don’t get ahead this way / I’ve tried and tried to make good sense, what’s the good of trying it all again?” sets the tone. “Monumental” is the one word that describes, “The Downtown Lights”. Utilizing synth touches with a dreamy sense of awe and beauty. Imagine starry evening, crowds, speeding traffic and shining streetlights. When the Blue Nile sings 'Nobody loves you this way" it’s no idle boast, it’s a declaration of passion. The song builds to a breathless crescendo, howling “The neons and the cigarettes, the rented rooms, the rented cars, the crowded streets, the empty bars, the chimney-tops, the trumpets, the golden lights, the loving prayers, the coloured shoes, the empty trees, I’m tired of crying on the stairs…" In contrast “From a Late Night Train” is Hats' quietest moment. It is, however, as brilliant a rendering of a train trip home as you will ever hear. Image scanning the rolling countryside while you ponder heartbroken, “It’s over now, I know it’s over now, but I can’t let go,” A solitary, lonely trumpet laments along with you, hurtling you emotionally forward. Bleak yet utterly compelling. The final track “Saturday Night” and its repeated query “Who do you love? Who do you really love?” sets a final optimistic tone; A tentative return to grace, this note of optimism ends the album on a high. The promise of redemption makes the album all the more bittersweet.

I miss my friend but he has left this LP as a touchstone to our friendship and as a reminder that good music, however profound or simplistic; however happy or sad, is defined by how it fundamentally touches your soul. Now that’s a gift worth cherishing. –Ed

Chuck Jackson “Goin’ Back to Chuck Jackson” (1969)

2010-09-10T11:35:00.000-07:00

Chuck Jackson must have been a really weird fit for Motown. Kind of like the Yankees acquiring Michael Schumacher; top brand aquires top talent, despite the obvious apples/oranges implications. His tenure at Wand was mainly filled with well-done Iceman ballad stylings with the odd Northern track (“Chains of Love”) thrown in for giggles. But just like the Iceman himself making a pair of brilliant albums in Philly, this album works extremely well. I would have to imagine that Chuck did something wrong in his interview with Berry Gordy. Maybe he didn't seem too thrilled at the prospect of putting two white teenagers kissing on a beach on the album cover. Maybe he went on and on about how much he liked the new Isley Brothers single on T-Neck and how they're doing so well now. In any event, Berry did not stack this album with songwriting talent. Two Smokey songs, one H-D-H, one Ashford/Simpson, one Stevie Wonder, and then some other guys. No producer's credit either. Needless to say this does not sound like a 1969 Motown album.

The album starts off well enough with a Bert Berns song but then sidesteps into a big heaping pile of Jimmy Webb. There are a lot of Jimmy Webb fans out there; I am unequivocally not one of them. I like bits of the first Fifth Dimension album. Other than that, I think his songs are firmly in the schmaltzy pathos category and one of the worst things to happen to soul music (other than Bobby Womack) was the endless assembly line of "Witchita Lineman" covers. (Oh, you're a lineman for the county? Shut up already and fix the power lines then.) Things pick up with a solid version of "Cry Like a Baby". Side 2 is the real stormer, however. An interesting cover of Tyrone Davis' "Can I Change My Mind" is great, even if the trademark jangly guitar is slightly buried. "I'd Still Love You" follows and, whoa, fuzz guitar! Ominous spoken intro leads into the best production on the album. Again, I would love to know who produced this cut, as it's definitely not Norman Whitfield territory but it's close. "The Day My World Stood Still" is a wonderful little sleeper that opens up into a dramatically darker bridge featuring swirling strings and woodblocks with an ersatz flamenco feel and a Chuck Jackson vocal that is certainly up for the challenge. It's the kind of staggeringly effective minor key bridge that was more common to UK psych (just replace the ersatz flamenco with ersatz Middle Eastern). A baffling little excursion that I can't get enough of.

Motown may not have given a lot of effort and attention to Chuck Jackson, but you should. Plus he looks pretty suave in that turtleneck. He certainly looks better than I do in them. –Mike

Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band “Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band” (1976)

2010-09-08T10:01:00.000-07:00

This self-titled debut (!!!) album is one of my all-time favorite records. I've played it thousands of times and know it by heart. Too jazzy for Disco fans, too "trivial" for Jazz fans, too remote from "roots" for the Soul/Funk division, this album was and is a dream-come-true for all those who don't wear blinkers when it comes to music. All seven songs are jewels, and together, they're a string of pearls. No matter from which angle - the compositions, the arrangements, the singing, the performance - always five stars. I can't think of or play this album without fits of rapture. –Yofriend

Todd Rundgren “A Wizard, A True Star” (1973)

2010-09-06T22:40:00.000-07:00

Nothing could have prepared audiences in '73 for the brain scrambler that is A Wizard, A True Star, a double-album's worth of ideas crammed horizontally (in the brevity of the songs) and vertically (in the impenetrable layers of sound) onto one album, albeit a long one. Was this the same guy who released Something/Anything a year before? But start peeling A Wizard back, and that pop-rocker is still there, most notably on the impassioned "Sometimes I Don't Know What to Feel," space age soarer "International Feel," oddly beautiful cabaret of "Zen Archer," hard rock/lush pop hybrid "When The Shit Hits The Fan/Sunset Blvd.," and the first of a new recurring theme for Todd, the uplifting anthemic "Just One Victory." But the distinguishing characteristic of A Wizard is the 1 to 2 minute slices of "real" songs and outright weirdness that disorient the listener, to the point that a few tracks into this one you've either been totally seduced or completely given up, placing it as one of those polarizing efforts of either genius or bullshit, depending on your view. An easy five stars, of course. –Ben

Genesis “Foxtrot” (1972)

2010-09-05T10:52:00.000-07:00

I still remember that rainy, Ohio evening when I walked into Radio Shack (This was when Radio Shack sold LP’s). I bought three albums that day with the money I worked hard for from my first job as a gas station attendant – “Fill’er Up?” “Check the Oil, Ma’am?” Wash the Windows, Sir? The three LP’s I purchased were unrelated in every way: Sparks – “A Woofer in Tweeter’s Clothing”, “Feats Don’t Fail Me Now” – Little Feat, and “Foxtrot” by Genesis. These albums would serve as the first bricks laid in the foundation of my musical tastes. I had seen all three bands on the rock shows of the day, American Bandstand, Don Krishner’s Rock Concert, and the Midnight Special. Their performances on TV still live large in my mind. But none larger that Genesis’s performance of “Watcher of the Sky.” That day Peter Gabriel became my Rock deity.

One LP stood out among the three, Foxtrot. It was nothing like the rock I was used to. The only other rock I knew at that age was the music of my older brothers; CCR, Grand Funk, and, of course the Beatles. Putting the LP on my stereo (a cheap plastic GE player with “Spaceball’ speakers and yes, it had a penny taped to the tone arm!), the album opened with the powerful " mellotron and "church" organ lines of “Watcher of the Skies” that sets the tone for the superb material that lie ahead. The sense of power and majesty in that opening rises up through the mix, punctuated by lightning stabs of guitar added by which is perhaps the most essential element - Peter Gabriel passionately addressing an obsolete God whose own creation no longer needs or acknowledges him as it extends his reach to the stars. The following, graceful "Time Table" offers a balancing breather from "Watcher’s intensity, as the lovely piano and poetic lyrics ponder the seeming imperfection of honor and beauty. This respite that sets the stage for the masterful "mini epic" that is "Get 'Em Out by Friday." This eight and a half-minute "prog opera" tells a tale of a bleak future where government controls every aspect of its citizens lives. I won't say much about strangely titled "Can-Utility and the Coastliners," beyond the fact that it still has the power to make my jaded old eyes misty today. (The lyrics tell the story of the medieval English king who tries to command the tides, only to learn the limitations of his power and the folly of his pride.) To open the second side of this LP, the listener's ears are treated to a beautiful interlude of classical guitar on "Horizons," before the album’s masterpiece (and quite possibly, the band's), the glorious, mind-blowing twenty-three minute suite "Supper's Ready”. Here, Genesis, in a fantastic piece of prog, embark upon a "work" that is apocalyptic in scope. Gabriel and his band mates take on the Book of Revelations. The end of the world never sounded so good!

If you own a copy of FOXTROT, I urge you to re-experience its overwhelming artistry. If you've never heard this terrific LP, you will not regret purchasing this masterpiece. This album is an excellent example of the lofty heights of progressive rock. –Ed

Bob Dylan “Blood On The Tracks” (1975)

2010-09-04T09:13:00.000-07:00

Quite simply, Blood On The Tracks is my favourite Dylan album. In one of those too few illuminating moments, I knew the first time I heard it that this was something special and through the years it has sustained me through some really bad times: divorce, depression and my Dad's death. When written, Dylan himself was experiencing the traumas of a marriage break-up and all the muddled feelings that engenders are in evidence - sadness, bitterness, anger, relief and regret. But, even with this background, Blood On The Tracks is not a depressing album. "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go", "If You See Her, Say Hello", "You're A Big Girl Now" and "Tangled Up In Blue" expose a man unsure of his feelings but striving to make a good fist of it. I could, and still can, identify with that. Even though his turbulent emotions must have been a dominating factor, Dylan also managed to pen a couple of wonderful morality tales: "Simple Twist Of Fate" and "Shelter From The Storm", and a brilliantly inventive novella: "Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts." Blood On The Tracks will remain an album I will return to again and again. –Ian

Black Sabbath “Never Say Die!” (1978)

2010-09-03T09:54:00.000-07:00

This was a pleasant surprise because I'd heard so many bad things about this album both from critics and the band themselves. Stories of being too drugged up to continue in the studio don't seem to gel with the final product, which sounds crisp and well mixed to me, the spectacular drumming up front and Ozzy's vocals not sounding in the least druggy. I guess there's a lot to be said about post production. But the songs to me sound better and more musically adventurous than those on Sabotage or even the Dio era albums that followed. Particular highlights are the psychy, wah wah feel of Junior's Eyes and Iommi's riffage on Shock Wave. All in all, I really don't think it was a bad album for Ozzy to bow out on. –Neal

The Incredible String Band “The 5000 Spirits or the Layers of the Onion” (1967)

2010-09-02T11:22:00.000-07:00

Yes, I think this is even better than The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter. The difference is while that record gets its strength from its total weirdness -- it meanders in the best sense -- this one has actual songs: great, great songs that will move you, make you laugh and make you think. "First Girl I Loved" alone is enough to get you seeking out this record, but add to that the prescient sarcasm of "Back In The 1960s" (which foresees the death of the hippie ideal before it had even begun), the Wind In The Willows on acid of "Little Cloud" and "The Hedgehog Song" (The Archbishop of Canterbury's fave ISB number!) and the simply beautiful "Painting Box". Plus I love the way Williamson sings. For those of you who wonder what "The Fool On The Hill" would have been liked if Lennon had written it. –Brad

Terje Rypdal “Odyssey” (1975)

2010-08-31T10:43:00.000-07:00

Producer Manfred Eicher's ECM label has been a mixed bag over the years. Much of the output has been criticized for being homogenized, self-indulgent & dull as well as being praised for genius production, adventurous artists making groundbreaking recordings, with an inner fire underneath the slick recordings. Love it or hate it, there is a definite sound environment that Eicher has created, it's simply known as the "ECM sound". The use of space in music, as loud as silence, free improv without a million notes, composed chaos that whispers screams. When it works it is timeless & innovative, when it doesn't, it can sound like elevator music that was thrown aside because it sounded too much like, well, elevator music.

Odyssey is guitarist Terje Rypdal's fourth record for ECM & it works. A double album of low-fi fusion intertwined with progressive rock string interludes, distorted organs, hissy snare fills, groovy bass lines , ethereal horns, & of course, Rypdal's guitar playing, which sounds like a cross between Jimi Hendrix & an avant garde cello player. The melodies are dark, cold & funky as hell. Rypdal was definitely channeling Miles Davis' "Bitches Brew" on this record but only softer, all the groove & dissonance, but less crowded, like someone whispering a hurricane in your ear. The record opens with "Darkness Falls". Rypdal's guitar screeching like an injured space bird along side organ stabs & chattering drums with the bass searching for a cohesive rhythm: a gentle panic within the group forms but slowly subsides as the sound fades & flows right into the second track, "Midnite". Warm, pulsating bass & drums lock into each other & they begin to groove with Rypdal's wah pedal over the top of moaning trombones & snaky organ lines in the background, holding it all together; quietly. Odyssey has it's heavier moments as well- "Rolling Stone" a twenty-five minute rock-funk gem that sounds as if Sly Stone & crew ran into the boys from Black Sabbath & said, "Let's jam". "Over Birkerot" would be perfectly comfortable on a mid- seventies King Crimson record. It does bog down a bit with a couple of almost contemporary classical string/synthesizer drone marathons that can get a little sleepy, but there's just enough smolder in there to keep the listener curious. The tracks heard on Odyssey still sound relevant. Manfred Eicher's production stamp make these tunes sound as if they could be on any modern down-tempo electronic record from today. –ECM Tim

Buffalo Springfield “Buffalo Springfield Again” (1967)

2010-08-30T12:27:00.000-07:00

Just a little over 30 minutes long, and it goes in about as many directions. Neil Young's songs don't seem to belong on the same record as those of Stills or Furay; actually, they don't seem to belong in the same universe. Yet the record as a whole doesn't seem messy at all, but powerful, even focused, by its diversity. I used to love the Young songs -- even the psychedelic weirdness of "Broken Arrow" -- but these days I find myself attracted to the Stills songs, which are some of his best. "Bluebird" in particular manages to seem both sleek and cryptic at the same time, and the Stills-Young guitar team is a wonder (take that, Yardbirds!). Really, the only clunker is the Dewey Martin-sung "Good Time Boy", a fairly terrible Otis parody (but at least it adds soul to the band's armory). Everything else works, even "Mr Soul", on which Neil borrows a riff from the Rolling Stones. And not for the last time, either. –Brad

Pink Floyd “Relics” (1971)

2010-08-28T09:47:00.000-07:00

This is a terrific collection of early Floyd stuff, some of it before Syd Barrett was catatonic, but most of it afterward yet well before Gilmour was growing so. Anyone interested probably has Piper at the Gates of Dawn (and thus roughly a quarter of this LP's contents), and anyone getting this for "Careful With that Axe, Eugene" should be made aware of a superior version on Ummagumma. But non-LP single "See Emily Play" alone is worth springing for this set, and nearly everything else is uniformly excellent. (Check out "The Nile Song" for evidence that the group could've gone in the direction of Heavy.) While anthologies don't usually work as albums, this one works better than most albums—even better than many Pink Floyd albums, which were generally very consciously made to work as albums. Just goes to show how consciousness can get in the way –Will

The Mahavishnu Orchestra “The Inner Mounting Flame” (1971)

2010-08-26T21:36:00.000-07:00

Fusion has become a dirty word in most jazz circles these days, which have been thoroughly Marsalis-ised to the point of declaring that the only good jazz is acoustic jazz. And yes, there were a lot of crimes committed in the name of jazz-rock (I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out than have to listen to a Lenny White LP again) but a handful of classics did emerge from it. This is one. I'm tempted to say this is THE one, which wouldn't be correct, but you do tend to get carried away listening to McLaughlin and the boys in full flight. As opposed to their subsequent albums, the emphasis here is on virtuoso playing that still comes from the heart. And the all-acoustic "A Lotus on Irish Streams" is quite simply one of the most beautiful pieces of music to come out of the 1970s. In some ways Birds of Fire is a better, more ambitious and fully-conceived album than this one, but it just misses out on the questing spirit and beauty that makes The Inner Mounting Flame such a compelling listening experience. –Brad

Muddy Waters “Electric Mud” (1968)

2010-08-25T09:36:00.000-07:00

This may be the most polarizing album ever to come out of the Chess empire (unless that Rotary Connection Christmas album really drives you batty); it's telling that they chose to release this on the more daring Cadet Concept subsidiary. It's funny to think that this album was intended to update Muddy Waters' image to appeal to the younger people and, 42 years on, that's exactly what it did for me, who currently fits the original demographic they were after: I have no quarrel with traditional blues, I even enjoy it when the mood strikes me, but this is the only Muddy Waters album that I beat the proverbial door down to acquire. And this album is ferocious! There's no session information given but I would have to imagine that it's the usual Chess/Cadet session crew backing him up. The bass rumbles along louder than I've ever heard John Paul Jones' or John Entwistle's. The drums, in particular the bass drum, are louder than those in any psych group I can think of other than maybe the Move. The most surprising aspect may be that, despite the fact that Muddy reportedly hated this album with a passion, his electric guitar playing is phenonmenal. I suppose this is expected from a great bluseman, but he also knows how to use its new-found volume and distortion to great effect. He growls through each monster track, achieving what Jimi Hendrix was clearly after in his formative days. As it is a late 60s Cadet Concept album, the ace in the hole is the arrangement, this time from the great Charles Stepney, in the midst of arranging the hell out of those Rotary Connection and Ramsey Lewis albums (the latter along with Richard Evans). Stepney actually displays quite a bit of restraint here, with his patented complex string and brass parts lurking way in the background, the exception being when "She's Alright" brilliantly morphs it's coda into the string-laden bridge from "My Girl".

Most blues purists decry this, which I suppose is understandable, but you have to admit that this is as convincing a psychedelic-blues album as anything Cream or Led Zeppelin could hope to come up with. Still underrated by most critics, this is truly a left-field masterpiece. –Mike

The Stooges “Raw Power” (1973)

2010-08-24T10:36:00.000-07:00

“The raw power of Iggy Pop predated punk.” An anonymous quote I heard from some time back that sums up the very essence of what Iggy and the Stooges were about. And with their 1973 release, Raw Power, their muscle is in full-flex-mode. Famously produced by, David Bowie, and the band in a state of disorder - the combining couple crafted an album that, not only became a trailblazer, but also set the tone for what would come next, punk. Because of this, Raw Power, was molded into the blueprint of how rock ‘n’ roll should always be: dark, dangerous, and full of filth. The out of ordinary sound for its time has still never been equaled, many imitators came and went, struggling with the crass intensity, but they were all failed attempts. Iggy made a point to declare conventionalism was out, and in its place -- sleazy drug-fueled globs of noise. The Stooges remain one of my all-time favorite bands. And it has a lot to do with Raw Power. Some hipsters might declare, Raw Power, the weakest out of the holy trinity, due to its heavy praise, but there’s no denying its incendiary explosive strength. And on more than one occasion, I have been known to declare it my favorite album, ever. –Jason

Caetano Veloso “Caetano Veloso” (1971)

2010-08-22T22:39:00.000-07:00

Ironically enough, Caetano Veloso's almost entirely English language album is one of the most misunderstood of his classic 60s/70s period amongst English-speaking audiences (first place goes to Araca Azul, but that one at least gives you fair warning of its polarizability by the Caetano-in-bikini cover). Recorded while in exile in London, the album marks a dramatic musical departure from his first 2 solo outings that he would continue to explore up through 1977 or thereabouts. I must confess I don't know too many details of Caetano's (or Gilberto Gil's) exile in London. It seems like a bit of a missed opportunity on the part of the British, though there was probably no reason why anyone there should've known who he was. Apparently some Traffic members were big fans, and even helped out on Gil's sessions but if I were George Harrison or Twink or Jimmy Page or Bill Wyman or Jack Bruce or Marc Bolan or Mike Heron and someone told me that the leading light of Brazil's new underground rock movement was in my midst, I would totally be over there asking if he wanted to go bowling or split an appetizer or something. Or if I was Jimmy Page, I would ask if I could steal his guitar line from "Irene".

One aspect of Veloso's exile period is quite clear: he did NOT like it. The cover is amazing. Caetano looks like he's 50, he's cold, and you just told him a mildly offensive joke. One would assume this album is as bleak as Pink Moon but the first couple of songs might surprise you. "A Little More Blue" opens with a laidback, meandering acoustic figure that sounds a bit mellow but certainly not conducive to soul-bearing. The lyrics are about events that have made him sad, even though at the present moment "I feel a little more blue than then". Along the way he peppers in references to his own exile and some truly vivid lyrics ("her dead mouth with red lipstick smiled"). An odd, dichotomous opener. "London, London" is for me the clear standout. And, oddly enough, it's the jauntiest track, replete with playful flute like Donovan's 67-era acoustic sides. It's one of the most exquisitely beautiful songs I've ever heard concerning alienation, loneliness, and, above all, homesickness. In this respect, it can be seen as the post-traumatic counterpart to the desperate "Lost in the Paradise" from his previous album. And while I hold that song to be one of the best songs ever written, period, "London, London" offers the beautifully resigned flipside of that coin. And all this from a song whose refrain is "My eyes go looking for flying saucers in the skies". Things start to get a bit darker with the more-produced "Maria Bethania", a plea to his sister. "If You Hold a Stone" is an expanded, highly repetitve reworking of "Marinheiro So" from the previous album. I'm not going to pretend to know what he's talking about here (even though it's in English and he repeats it like 30 times) but I could listen to it all day long. The last song "Asa Branca" is the only Portuguese-language track on the album and as such it's an emotionally powerful return to relatively familiar territory for Caetano. The song, written by Luiz Gonzaga and Humberto Teixeira, is about a native farmer (presumably) of Northeastern Brazil having to leave the land and his wife during one of the droughts that often occur in that part of the country because he is unable to make a living. At the end he promises to return. Amazingly, if you really try to live inside this album, you don't really need to know Portugese to understand what this song is saying. A haunting, ethereal way to end perhaps the most personal album in Veloso's storied career.

This album is notable for several reason. Firstly, it marks a dramatic change in musical direction for Veloso. I've never heard an album with a greater sense of space. There is a lot of silence on this album and it itself is utilized almost as an additional instrument, a "symphony of silence" (mental copyright) if you will. His first solo album was lush and sprightly and full of subtle sonic experimentation. His second album made the sonic experimentation much more explicit and combined this with a panoramic feeling that made that album at times feel tense and murky (not a bad thing in this case). This album does a dramatic about-face with its spare, acoustic lines, occasional bass-and-drum backing, and lyric-centric approach. This formula would reach full fruition on Transa and continue up until 1977's African-influenced Bicho. The second notable aspect of this album is how well Veloso's poetry translates into English. That's no mean feat. Gil's more awkward English makes his equivalent album difficult to decipher emotionally but Caetano's only slightly accented English is perfectly suited to his prose that, though economical, are undeniably evocative and effective at relating emotional depth. Certainly not a place to start for Caetano Veloso, but you should try to find yourself here if you are willing to acquire more than 3 of his albums. –Mike

Jackson Browne “Late for the Sky” (1974)

2010-08-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

One of those artifacts that sort of sum up the 1970s for me, along with the films Annie Hall, Nashville and Three Women. Like those movies, Late for the Sky deals with the aftermath of a romance in dreamy, almost surreal style. If you're looking for rock, look elsewhere; but if you lean to the Nick Drake/Tim Buckley end of the singer-songwriter spectrum and you've been put off by Browne's reputation for cloying navel-gazing, then put your prejudices aside and listen to this record. –Brad

Tears For Fears “The Hurting” (1983)

2010-08-20T10:02:00.000-07:00

Even though I was well past the teenage angst phase when The Hurting was released it still managed to strike a mighty big chord. If you thought that electronic pop was nothing more than lightweight froth, then this album will come as something of a shock. This is as close as music gets to defining the nightmare that is adolescence. It is amazingly depressing yet musically uplifting. The melancholic atmosphere is palpable especially on gruesome downer tracks like "Watch Me Bleed" and "Start Of The Breakdown" which are perfect fodder for manic-depressives. For my money this is the only Tears For Fears album worth owning. Here they revel in an unrefined talent combined with a pristine sound which would later be soiled by over production on the likes of Songs From The Big Chair. All the songs on The Hurting have been penned by Roland Orzabal and I read somewhere that the album is a reflection of his troubled childhood. So, while I could relate to this from a teenage perspective, Orzabal was suffering through this at a much younger age – which gives the album an even more harrowing edge. As he says “memories fade but the scars still linger”. –Ian

The United States of America (1968)

2010-08-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

I first discovered this LP in a Capitol Hill thrift store in the mid-90’s, when it was still fairly easy to find such LP’s in thrift stores. Thumbing through the Broadway musical soundtracks and Herb Alpert LP’s, I came across a battered copy of this curiosity. Its cover suggested a bunch of M.I.T. graduate students performing research on how to be in a rock band, and the musical credits listed on the back were even more perplexing. The bassist played a fretless; there was no guitarist but there was an electric violin player (and just what the hell was a “ring modulator” anyway?). I couldn’t tell how old the record was, but the hairstyles and packaging suggested about 1968 (I turned out to be right). The $3 sticker was enough incentive, so I bought it. Playing it when I got home, my reaction to its aural content was that of even more bafflement. It was a strange and shifting cacophony from start to finish: calliopes, pounding drums, tape loops, haunting ballads about clouds and deceased revolutionaries, Gregorian chants, chamber strings, Zappaesque satire, Salvation Army brass bands, and a barrage of otherworldly electronic bleeps and warbles. At first I wanted to throw it across the room, but within a few days it was all I was listening to and all I would listen to for the next month. We all know about these records, records that we happen upon by accident and which we initially don’t understand but which end up changing the very core of our being and defining our musical tastes. For these records, “love it or hate it” isn’t an apt descriptor. Like organ transplants, they are either violently rejected or they become a part of us. For me, The United States of America’s sole LP is one such record. –Richard

Fairport Convention “Unhalfbricking” (1969)

2010-08-17T20:49:00.000-07:00

While Liege And Lief may very well be a more revolutionary and influential album than Unhalfbricking, I'm sure I'm not alone in thinking the latter even better than the former. As both their last album as "England's Answer To Jefferson Airplane" and their first to move decisively towards traditional folk (and to feature Dave Swarbrick), it straddles both camps effortlessly. Of course both Richard Thompson and Sandy Denny contribute two excellent songs each, of which my favourite has always been the jazzy "Autopsy" (what a wonderful drummer Martin Lamble was!). Of course, "Who Knows Where The Time Goes" isn't exactly a throwaway either. There's no less than three Bob Dylan tracks, all of them unreleased by Bob in 1969, including the very moving "Percy's Song", featuring ex-Fairporter Ian Matthews on harmony vocals. (While this song had been recorded while he was still in the band, it began a tradition of ex-members making cameo appearances on new Fairport records that has made them see less like a band and more like a family.) The stunner, though, has to be the wonderful performance of the traditional song "A Sailor's Life", reputedly recorded in one take. I'll take this one over all of Liege And Lief, thanks. Unlike some of Fairport's other records, this one hasn't aged a bit, and there's absolutely no filler tracks. –Brad

ZZ Top “Eliminator” (1983)

2010-08-17T09:37:00.000-07:00

Whilst I admit to only having heard some of ZZ Top’s early albums, I fail to see how Eliminator could be considered a radical change in direction or why loyal fans should be so vociferous in their condemnation. Okay, the odd synthesiser has sneaked into the mix, the singles and videos were played to vomit-inducing levels on MTV and the band found themselves permeated into the mainstream, but is all that really worth getting your knee-length beard in a knot over? If compromises have been made, the result is a high-class exhibition of Texas boogie suffused with sex and booze and….T.V. Dinners. It was the album which put ZZ Top on my map and, if the band were in the business to make money, Eliminator was the licence for the band to print their own. The only downer I can think of was the videos were on such high rotation I eventually suffered from total burnout and had to hide the album away for fear of mental breakdown. Coming back to this today highlights how badly Eliminator has aged. There is no doubting which decade the album was released. Bill Ham has over-produced the album to such an extent that all blemishes and rough edges have been eradicated. The problem is, by doing so, he's leeched away some of the individuality and quirkiness that made ZZ Top the bearded wonders they were. It's the equivalent of a model's face being airbrushed after a magazine photo-shoot only for the process to have been taken to extremes and all her facial features being wiped clean. That said, this is still an enjoyable album. "Gimme All Your Lovin'", "Sharp Dressed Man", "Got Me Under Pressure", "I Got The Six", "Dirty Dog" and "Bad Girl" bounce along with all the verve of a sweaty roadhouse on a Saturday night but "Legs" has become a victim of its own success; over-exposure has completely removed any enjoyment. Eliminator is no classic but it retains a sense of nostalgic charm that can't be overlooked. –Ian

Townes Van Zandt “Townes Van Zandt” (1969)

2010-08-16T10:28:00.000-07:00

More than any other of Van Zandt's albums this reflects how unhappy the man must have been with his debut “For The Sake Of The Song.” No less than four of the tracks on here first appeared on that earlier work and, without exception, all are better for the reworking. The lovely Spanish guitar refrains of "For The Sake Of The Song" and "(Quicksilver Daydreams Of) Maria" bring out the best in the plaintive, lovelorn lyrics. "I'll Be Here In The Morning" is reborn as a tale of a lonesome cowboy heading back home to his true love and "Waiting Around To Die" simply stands as one of Van Zandt's finest songs. In fact I can give this no more praise than it bears comparison with Dylan's early folk albums - because, have no doubts, this is a folk album not a country album. And a very sparse one at that. The fact there is so much emotion and feeling on display is down to the voice and the words rather than the music. For instance I have no idea what "Lungs" is really about but it is poetically intense in its imagery and compelling in its tale of loneliness and failure. Equally the depiction of nature as an extension of the human condition in the likes of "Columbine" is both moving and powerful.

After listening to a number of Van Zandt's albums, I've come to realise that sometimes the word underrated –although hackneyed and simplistic – is appropriate. To a certain degree, the word undiscovered is also extremely apt in this case because there are a great deal of revered singer-songwriters performing in the same field who don't come anywhere close to having the sheer emotive power and impact of Van Zandt. He deserves all the plaudits thrown in his direction and I will definitely continue to mine his back catalogue. –Ian

Airto Moreira “Free” (1972)

2010-08-15T10:35:00.000-07:00

By now, Airto must have released about 30 LPs and played on and spiced up countless albums, yet Free may still be his best. Simply because the conditions were perfect: there are Chick Corea and Keith Jarrett on piano, Ron Carter on bass, the master himself on drums and percussion, Hubert Laws and Joe Farrell on reeds, George Benson on guitar, Don Sebesky with exceptionally good arrangements directing a big band of super-professionals and Rudy van Gelder making sure the recording sound is crystal clear. There's a very good version of Return To Forever, there's this little gem, Lucky Southern on which Keith Jarrett plays a wonderful solo, and there's the highlight, Flora's Song and again, it's Keith Jarrett who along with Don Sebesky, gets the crown. Airto himself? Not just his percussion is top, but also his drumming. A joyful event, whenever the record is played. –Yofriend

Connect The Dots

2010-08-15T09:48:00.000-07:00

The seemingly infinite number of vintage record jackets that convey their message with simple shapes like circles and dots never cease to amaze and amuse us. Project Thirty-Three is our personal collection and shrine to these expressive shapes along with their slightly less jovial but equally effective cousins; squares, rectangles and triangles, and the designers that make them come to life on album covers. Other categories include arrows, lines, abstract shapes and instruments, and typography-only. Dates and design credits are listed when available. Check back soon as we’ll be adding covers to the gallery regularly. Enjoy!

The Teardrop Explodes “Kilimanjaro” (1980)

2010-08-13T15:03:00.000-07:00

It's amazing to think that one of the great eccentrics of popular music, Julian Cope, originated from what, on an initial listen, appears to be a straightforward post punk, electronic pop band. Delve a little deeper beneath the swathes of synthesised sound however and those original impression begin to subtlety alter. The lyrics carry an esoteric intelligence which belies their frivolous accompaniment and the unusual inclusion of a brass section is a masterstroke. But, as someone far smarter than me once said, "Just because you don't understand it doesn't make it profound". What gives this album it's cutting edge is the combination of all these elements which come together to form a frenetic, catchy, cohesive whole. The Teardrop Explodes were cut from the same cloth as Echo And The Bunnymen but their use of synths gave them a far more radio-friendly edge. I love the dumb chorus for "When I Dream" and the pounding drumbeats on "Bouncing Babies" and the way the keyboards seem to jog along with Cope's voice on "Brave Boys Keep Their Promises". The brevity of the brass on both "Ha Ha I'm Drowning" and "Treason" is both unexpected and uplifting. In fact the whole of Kilimanjaro can be treated as just an uplifting pop album but there's far more going on than that. The problem is that whatever is going on is securely locked inside Cope's mind. Yes there are references to television series The Outer Limits in "Sleeping Gas" and that song also mentions Rafferty, a seventies series staring Patrick McGoohan which was a precursor to Hugh Lawrie's House, but I've no idea why those things are namechecked. Like a line in another song says: "Poppies are in the fields, don't ask me what that means". The thing is, you don't need to know and maybe it's even better not knowing because you never know what to expect with Cope. Kilimanjaro is often overlooked when discussing post-punk music – it deserves better. –Ian

Badfinger “Wish You Were Here” (1974)

2010-08-13T10:13:00.001-07:00

Simply put Badfinger's best album, contains no hit singles and was surprisingly pulled from the shelves (which can't have helped Pete Ham's fragile mind) but everything here has a cohesion and quality control lacking on other albums. 'Just A Chance' is a fabulous rocker, amongst the best of the band's career, 'You're So Fine', 'Know One Knows', 'Love Time', 'King Of The Load' could all quite conceivably been hit singles, all show the band's poppier style to fine effect, 'Got To Get Out Of Here' and 'Dennis' show off a more acoustic, reflective almost countryish style whilst 'In The Meantime/Some Other Time' and 'Meanwhile Back At The Ranch/Should I Smoke' are pure power pop, lavishly arranged, musically and melodically as inventive as the band was ever to get, it lacks one of Ham's gorgeous ballads but otherwise this is as good as they ever got, shame then that it was to be the band's final album before Pete Ham's suicide, they could have gone on to even better things. –Derek

Captain Beefheart “Trout Mask Replica” (1969)

2010-08-13T10:13:00.000-07:00

The Captain's best known album really divides opinion. Some see it as utter unlistenable garbage others see it as some sort of musical nirvana. In truth it probably falls somewhere between the two extremes. It is indeed hard to listen too and it takes time to fully absorb the music. It is like the blues has crashed into an Albert Ayler gig and the two don't make easy bedfellows. Still there is some incredibly complex and impressive playing contained within. The Rhythm section must have had nightmares when Beefheart turned up with the score, yes every note was written not improvised. Also if possible the lyrics seem even more out there than usual and reside firmly in the leftfield. The album does however contain two of my favourite Beefheart tracks in “Moonlight On Vermont” and “Dachau Blues.” –Jon

Free “Free” (1969)

2010-08-13T10:11:00.000-07:00

From the moment I heard the opening chords of the funky Stones-like strut “Trouble On Double Time” I was hooked on “Free.” Free’s self-titled second LP is a bit more retrained than Tons of Sobs and more soulful than their breakthrough album, Fire and Water, making it my favorite, and one that holds up to repeated listening. Side one kicks off with the ominous classic “I’ll Be Creepin,” followed by the aforementioned “Trouble” and closes with the hypnotic “Mouthful Of Grass,” a memorable, mostly instrumental track with a choir supplying wordless vocals. Side two doesn’t disappoint as it begins with the heavy blues-rocker “Woman” and ends with the melancholy “Mourning Sad Morning.” For those most familiar with Free through their overplayed hit “All Right Now” or through lead singer Paul Rodgers’ stint in equally overplayed Bad Company check out this early LP and their equally fantastic debut, Tons of Sobs. –David

Lou Reed “Lou Reed” (1972)

2010-08-11T20:04:00.000-07:00

Yes, a couple members of Yes do perform on this, the first solo album by the so-called godfather of punk, but thankfully you rarely sense it. And no, I suppose this isn't essential Lou Reed; but minor Lou is better than no Lou, and better than most other music, too. These are barebones arrangements, tentative and sketchy, but they point the way to his incredibly strange 70s career as well as taking a rather bleary look back at the last couple of VU records. That is to say, this sounds like the burned out leader of the Velvet Underground has to borrow some of his old band’s tunes in order to get a full album out; but it also sounds like a rock ’n’ roll original busy reinventing himself in new times. So “I Can’t Stand It” gets the 70s guitar-rock treatment, while the version of “Lisa Says” is the same arrangement that we hear on the VU Live 1969 set, injected with even more sleazy soul. There are some real missteps, particularly when Steve Howe makes his presence felt: the first incarnation of “Berlin” starts out well but gets a little goofy, with flourishes thoroughly out of step with Reed's aesthetic; and "Ride into the Sun" sports a guitar solo that's simply tasteless. "Walk and Talk It" is another Velvets' remake that doesn't come off particularly well, with a Stonesy riff that sounds tossed off and limp. And there's no question that the take on "Ocean" here is deeply flawed, with tympani and cymbal swells that don't adhere to the rest of the album's low-key vibe. But there are at least two lost classics buried here too: the infectious “Wild Child” and the wistful “Love Makes You Feel” seem to me just about essential Reed songs. And yes, it also sounds shitty, production-wise—especially the drums, which sound like ice cream buckets. But this lends the album a trashy Lower East Side feel that I find irresistible. All in all, this is a fine, fine little record that is unjustly overlooked even by his biggest fans. –Will

The Modern Lovers “The Modern Lovers” (1976)

2010-08-10T23:07:00.000-07:00

This albums flawlessness is unparalleled. Jonathan Richman has crafted an ideal record that is filled with exceptional songs. "Pablo Picasso" has to be one of my favorites. I can never get enough of it and "Hospital" is right there alongside it. Just beautiful love stories told with such panache and Richman's voice is perfectly suited with each spoken word. Listening to "Hospital" is heartrending, but when reading the lyrics it's almost like a six year old wrote it. But, this album is anything but ordinary. It's a candid masterpiece that ranks at the top of all my lists. –Jason

Jethro Tull “Stand Up” (1969)

2010-08-09T21:25:00.000-07:00

First off, let me confess that I don't particularly like Jethro Tull. I find their output longwinded, pompous, tedious and dull ... except for this record, which I inexplicably adore. There's a light, airy feel to even the hard rock numbers here, while the music effortlessly fuses elements of rock, folk, blues and classical. The rhythm section -- Glenn Cornick's melodic bass and Clive Bunker's steady-as-she-goes drumming -- anchors the songs, which are gentle, wistful and delicate ... not generally words I'd associate with Ian Anderson. Everything works -- the bouzouki-driven "Fat Man", the gorgeous ballad "Look Into The Sun", the intense rock of "A New Day Yesterday", the Bach arrangement "Bouree" ... Yes folks, there was a time when Tull "had it". Sadly, apart from a couple of singles recorded around the same time (notably "Living In The Past"), the band would move onto other (in my opinion, less rewarding) territory. Fact is, not even their next album, Benefit, sounds like Stand Up. By far their crowning achievement. –Tom

David Axelrod “Song of Innocence” (1968)

2010-08-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

Trying to put a tag on the music of legendary producer David Axelrod is almost impossible as his music, especially [when] early offerings such as this, straddles so many genres. You get funk, jazz, classical and rock all thrown into the melting pot to create a rather unique sound that has had a large influence on many people. Nowhere has this been more apparent than in hip hop and trip hop where this LP has been heavily sampled. If you are a fan of those two genres prepare to hear a lot of familiar breaks when you hear this record for the first time. The LP itself was heavily influenced by the poetry of William Blake hence there is a dark brooding feel throughout and Axelrod uses layers of strings playing minor keys to obtain this mood. The drums and percussion drive the music on and there are some fantastic guitar breaks. –Jon

They Might Be Giants “They Might Be Giants” (1986)

2010-08-07T09:45:00.000-07:00

Quite the mixed bag, but the goodness is really good ("Don't Lets Start", "Youth Culture Killed My Dog", "Boat of Car") and the badness is gone before you know it ("Rabid Child", "(She Was) A Hotel Detective", "Chess Piece Face"), washed away in the swift flow of quirky tunes and strange ideas that make up TMBG's debut album. And you'll likely disagree with my choices for good and bad, as well, since everything here is so eclectic. It's hard for me to take any of this too seriously, because the band clearly doesn't, but as usual, they always sprinkle in enough food for thought and maybe-profound lyrics that it doesn't desolve into complete camp. In this early stage of their career, they kind of sound like a mix between the Residents and Weird Al. Only better than that description sounds. Soon, they would refine their aesthetic and make more fully realized statements. –Lucas