Billy Idol - Rebel Yell

Chrysalis/Capitol Records: 1983/1999

The only Billy Idol album you're supposed to have ... is probably a greatest hits package, if we're being honest. If you must get one of his standard LPs though, Rebel Yell is probably the one. Sure, you're missing out on such timeless jams like White Wedding, Mony Mony and Dancing With Myself, but look at what you get here. Rebel Yell! Eyes Without A Face! Flesh For Fantasy! Uh, Catch My Fall and Blue Highway too, I guess.

Yeah, I'm not gonna' front. Vitol Idol remains my definitive collection of Billy Idol tunes; however, it lacks one of his all-time ass-kickin' songs, Rebel Yell. Essentially a remix album, the tracks on there were intended for dance club efficiency, and Rebel Yell was too much of an out-and-out rocker to fit that bill. Plus, Eyes Without A Face is a ballad, thus ineligible for Vitol Idol consideration. No, if I wanted those songs, I'd have to get the album from which they first appeared. Or a greatest hits package, but where's the fun in that? Like, this was Billy Idol's most successful album, so maybe there's a few overlooked gems that were overshadowed by the huge singles, and thus lost when folks started going straight to the hits collections instead. Alright, I'm super pumped in hearing some Album-Orientated Idol now. Let's do this, with a Rebel Yell!

And there's that iconic titular opener, and no matter how many times I've heard it on TV or rock radio, it never fails in getting me hype. Especially those little synth fills, ooh such shivers down the spine for a techno-boy such as I. Daytime Drama is our first instance of AOI, and it's a fun slice of new wave boogie for the inner-city clubs, including a jaunty little synth solo. Sounds good thus far.

Eyes Without A Face follows, and confessional time: for years, whenever I heard this on radios, I wasn't sure it was actually a Billy Idol tune. Yeah, the mid-song bridge, with Idol going full sneer and Steve Stevens' distinct shredding, should have been all the convincing I needed. Still, do you hear those ultra-tinny, heavy-reverb Fairlight drum machines in the beginning? The softer croon? The backing female in the chorus? Might this actually be a Human League song? Ah, the uncertain years of a pre-Discogs era.

As mentioned, Flesh For Fantasy and Catch My Fall are also here, but I'm so used to their extended Vitol Idol versions, they feel kinda' slight on Rebel Yell. And as for the rest? Blue Highway and Crank Call have fun solos. Stand In The Shadows is a fine uptempo rocker. The Dead Next Door serves as a decent album-closing ballad. Not much else leaps out from these filler tunes though, much less being overlooked gems in Billy Idol's wider discography. I'm not surprised though, Idol truly one of those classic artists who lived off his biggest hits. Was still time well spent confirming it though - nothing ventured, nothing learned.

Beastie Boys - Check Your Head

Capitol Records: 1992

Either the most important Beastie Boys album, or the most forgotten Beastie Boys album, depending on who you ask. Most folks fall into the latter category, and for good reason: Check Your Head generally lacks a variety of things that made their other LPs so memorable. There’s none of the instantly recognizable hits like Fight For Your Right from Licensed To Ill, Sabotage from Ill Communication, or Intergalactic from Hello Nasty. So What’cha Want was the only single that charted, and barely so at that. Hell, for the longest time, I didn’t even realize the track was from this album. For some reason I mistook it for a Paul’s Boutique or Ill Communication cut despite hard evidence to the contrary. Maybe the title’s just been so oft repeated and sampled, I never clued in it was an actual song itself.

Even the scant ’00 albums get more talking points than Check Your Head. Though folks were divided on the merits of To The 5 Boroughs’ throw-back hip-hop, the Beasties were at least praised for sticking to the concept in face of so many changes within their scene. And Hot Sauce Committee… well, that was gonna’ get talked about no matter what. For all intents, the history most know of the Beastie Boys goes like: “GROUNDBREAKING ‘80s! Something with live instruments. The SABOTAGE video! Moar awesome videos from Hello Nasty, with robots and ninjas! Content old geezers doing raps whenever between Buddhism. Aww, man, MCA died? That sucks.” Poor Check Your Head, barely a name check.

Still, this was the first album the Beasties produced themselves, which is note worthy for sure, but doesn’t illicit the same reverent discussion that Rick Rubin on Licensed To Ill or The Dust Brothers on Paul’s Boutique do. Nonetheless, Ad-Rock, MCA, and Mike D returned to playing their own instruments rather than pilfer coffers of records for samples. A good thing too when they did, legalities involving cribbing other people’s music turning incredibly costly in the courts. Time to start making your own beats and riffs, drawing influence of the multitude of funk, punk, jazz-unk, and turntable trickery they grew up around. They must have had these tunes building in their head for some time too, the music tight and fluid throughout. Shame they neglected including the rappity-raps half the time.

That’s the angle most approach Check Your Head from when claiming this their most important album. It marks an evolution of the Beasties from a three-piece white boy posse with witty, hilarious immature lyrics into Serious Musicians. They aren’t so concerned with wordplay as they are with musical interplay, and had yet to really branch out into experimentation as they would in Ill Communication. They still find time for a few back-n-forth cuts (Jimmy James, Pass The Mic, Finger Lickin’ Good, So What’cha Want, Professor Booty), but they’re outliers to all the funk jams throughout Check Your Head. It’s like the boys were all growed up now. Peace out in dub with Namaste.

James Horner - Star Trek III: The Search For Spock

Capitol/GNP Crescendo: 1984/1990

Now we’re getting into real geeky territory.

The first two Star Trek movie soundtracks, one can make the argument they surpass the source material, making them essential additions to any gatherer of classic film scores. Jerry Goldsmith, already no slouch in Hollywood, made some of Trek’s most iconic pieces for The Motion Picture, such that he’d recycle many of those themes in the later films he scored. James Horner, a total newcomer in Hollywood, made some of Trek’s most thrilling music for The Wrath Of Khan, such that he’d recycle some of those themes in other films he scored. Either way, both are standouts of the sci-fi soundtrack genre, such that you don’t need to be a Trekkie to appreciate them.

Beyond that, however, we’re getting deep into the realm of fans-only releases. There’s a couple more Trek soundtracks after this one I wouldn’t mind having should I find them on the cheap. Cliff Eidelman’s work for Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country recaptured many aspects of Horner’s compositions without stepping on James’ toes much, and Goldsmith turned in another winner with his work on Star Trek: First Contact. Maybe if I were to indulge my inner Trekkie to the utmost, some gathered works from The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine would be nice, but that’s an extreme case.

Instead, I’ve only gone as far as Star Trek III: The Search For Spock, because another LP of James Horner Trek music can’t go wrong. It’s also remarkably different compared to The Wrath Of Khan, if anything because the movie itself is a departure from the previous one. A somber mood permeates much of the film, as can be expected when our hero James T. Kirk is dealing with so much tragedy throughout. Not just the loss of Spock in Khan, but his subsequent rebellion against Starfleet, the death of his son David, the forced destruction of the Enterprise, and the total annihilation of the Genesis Planet, putting a damper on all those ‘life from death’ themes. Oh, um, spoilers, I guess?

Horner’s score reflects many of these moments, seldom going for the thrilling, bombastic orchestrations in Khan. Stealing The Enterprise is the lone exception, giving us a taste of exciting adventure despite the action on screen being rather mundane – it’s a perfect example of a score completely selling a scene, which Horner excelled at even at this early stage of his career.

Since he didn’t have to come up with as many original themes either, Horner experimented a little, mostly in his instrumentations. Klingons may not have been as iconic as Goldsmith’s theme for the classic alien species, but the clanking percussion Horner uses works wonderfully for a culture with a military industrial complex. Alternatively, the soft, meditative exotic drums in The Katra Ritual serves as a strong contrast for the logical Vulcans. And in keeping things human and ‘80s, there’s a bonus synth-pop rendition of the movie’s main theme. Yeah, that was common on soundtracks back then. Don’t ask.

The Beach Boys - Sounds Of Summer: The Very Best Of

Capitol Records: 2003

First, it was The Police and Boney M. Then, it was Raffi and Disney singalongs. After that... not a whole lot. Music, which had been such a vital part of my early childhood, ceased having much influence. It was those darn Transformers, you see, taking my attention away for a few years, soon replaced by all sorts of marketable cartoons and media. Who has time for bands and songs when there's more The Real Ghostbuster toys to get, or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bubblegum cards to buy, or Star Wars movies to obsess over? I still played the odd CD from my folks' collection, but seldom gave it much more thought than a passive distraction. One day though, after listening to a cheery compilation called Sun Jammin', the final track caught my attention like few songs had for a very, very long time. I had to hear more from this group, those sweet vocal harmonies, those starry-eyed lyrics of fun in the Caribbean sun and holiday bliss. The song was Kokomo.

Look, it was the '80s, and The Beach Boys’ most recent hit, so it was about the only way I'd have 'stumbled' upon them back then. Man though, after hearing that song, I scoured for more, the first time in my life I started digging for a specific group. It probably didn't hurt I was heavy into Archie Comics at the time (shad'up, we've all been there!), and saw kinship between the two representatives of clean-cut, all-American youth culture as envisioned by the late '50s and early '60s. I even compiled my findings onto my very first mixtape. True, all I had to work with was whatever was in my father's CDs, but as an initiation into the glorious world of music hunting obsession, The Beach Boys wasn't such a bad place to start.

Of course, had Tween Sykonee been around when Sounds Of Summer came about, I wouldn’t have needed to bother. There were numerous ‘Best Of’ and ‘Greatest Hits’ and ‘Essential Sounds’ on the market up through the ‘80s, but it didn’t seem The Beach Boys were quite done scoring the occasional charter even long after most figured their music way dated. Then the ‘90s hit and, well, yeah. With no new hits for a decade, the new millennium seemed as good a time as any for an authentic, definitive gathering of all their memorable, classic, vintage, glorious tunes. And Getcha Back, for some stupid reason (ugh... those ‘80s drums, so bad).

Sounds Of Summer is about as perfect a collection of Beach Boys music you could want without splurging on a zillion LPs for three or four great tunes surrounded by filler. It’s got all the surf rock hits, the hot-rodding car odes, the rowdy party tunes (Barbara Ann, so drunk), their introspective aging songs, and an assortment of odds and sods in the ensuing years. The only thing missing is selections from their wonderful Christmas album, but that’d defeat the ‘summer’ theme, wouldn’t it.

The Beatles - Abbey Road

Capitol Records: 1969/2009

The only Beatles album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of a Beatles fan. Sure, they're no longer at the crest of their creative powers, but it's arguable they indulged in their ideas a bit too much (not to mention the drugs). Concept albums? Studio experiments? Bunch of nonsense. You're a rock band, lads, why you no rock anymore? Even the Liverpool Four knew they weren’t firing on all cylinders, lacking the creative synergy that propelled them above and beyond all other bands of their era. Individually, they were doing fine for themselves (even Ringo!), but imagine if they combined their forces to their fullest potential as in the old days. Oh, the wonders they could create, a tight-knit band once more, with genre exploration learned and now with the wisdom to use it effectively.

At least that was the hope on Paul McCartney’s part. He somewhat succeeded too, Abbey Road officially the final studio album The Beatles recorded together as a band, though that wasn't the original intent. The creative conflicts that had led to the various gulfs between each member had simply grown too wide by '69 for any lasting truce, so it's all the more remarkable this album is as cohesive has it turned out. In the ultimate of compromises, side one features songs that, though not related to each other, at least fed off their rock and blues influences; side two would shoot for an album-orientated concept that Paul still wanted, in this case as a medley of short pieces.

I'll level with ya': for the longest time, I had no idea which Beatles songs were even on Abbey Road. Hell, some of the tunes that are on this record I didn't know were Beatles songs. I always thought Oh! Darling and You Never Give Me Your Money were Rolling Stone songs, while I Want You (She's So Heavy) sounds far more like something the progressive rock camps were churning out at the time, including a lengthy runtime for any rock tune of the day (nearly eight minutes!). I'd heard it plenty of times on the classic rock station, but never clued in this aggressive song was from the same group that once did Help! and Norwegian Wood. Plus, that Moog. When did The Beatles ever use a got'dang Moog when there was maybe a half-dozen in existence at the time? Oh Harrison, and your never-ending search for weird instruments. The big ones, however, are Come Together, Something, and Here Comes The Sun. I guess Carry That Weight’s memorable too as a sing-along anthem, and folksy Octopus’s Garden is so corny that it wins you right over.

Of course, the lasting impression everyone has with Abbey Road is that cover. It just might be the most famous photo shoot The Beatles ever did, inspiring many to replicate it themselves. Oh yes, along with all the other things the Liverpool Four innovated, you can include creating the first Rock Meme to that list. Probably.

The Beatles - Rubber Soul

Capitol Records: 1965/2009

The only Beatles album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of a Beatles fan. Because let's be honest: who really likes all the studio experimenting they did after Rubber Soul? There were plenty of good songs, but so much of it fell victim to weirdness like tape manipulations, overdubbing, orchestras, and Indian tonal scales. Whatever happened to the good ol' rock 'n' roll that made the lads from Liverpool super-huge megastars? Yeah, it's here and there, but almost in lip-service rather than their defining musical style. No, best stay away from latter-era Beatles, where they even let Ringo write songs.

That isn't to say Rubber Soul doesn't have its share of new ideas either. If anything, this album marked a major step away from the happy do-lucky mop top rock that created all sorts of screaming girl havoc. They’d just completed a second North American tour, and in that time had taken in plenty of local flavours that were gaining popularity in the USA alongside their own music. This included the impeccable vocal harmonization of The Beach Boys and authentic Motown soul, but most importantly the folk rock styling of Bob Dylan and The Byrds.

In the case of Dylan, their lyrics took a big step for Beatlekind, distancing themselves from easy couplets and simple phrases screaming girls could sing along to when they weren’t screaming for Paul or John or that emo George. Now their songs contained mature content for an aging audience and lovely imagery. Okay, it’s almost all still dealing with love and relationships, but there’s plenty of wiggle-room for exploration in these topics too, areas their early teeny-bop tunes couldn’t deal with. Like such intimacy with Norwegian Wood, or a melancholic Christian parable in Girl, or times long past in In My Life, or the nasty post-breakup threats of Run For Your Life. Whoa, where’d that come from? Meanwhile, the dour Harrison had about enough of love songs by that point, and wrote Think For Yourself, something of a governmental screed. He also co-wrote the reflective Nowhere Man, though that was mostly John’s song, apparently inspired by a bought of writer’s block. Damn marijuana.

Speaking of Harrison and drugs, another thing he learned from David Crosby of The Byrds was a kooky string instrument called a sitar. He learned to play the darned thing and even incorporated it into Norwegian Wood, though in keeping to a Western scale, it don’t sound as ethnic as his later uses of it – a perfect bit of spice to the tune’s charming folksiness. A few more new additions to The Beatles’ repertoire was fuzz box for McCartney in Think For Yourself, French lyrics in Michelle, and a sped-up piano intended to mimic a harpsichord for In My Life.

The biggest contribution Rubber Soul provided the rock world, however, was the notion an album could have end-to-end great songs rather than consisting of filler servicing the singles. Yep, the entire pseudo-genre of Album Orientated Rock was birthed here!

The Beatles - Revolver

Capitol Records: 1966/2009

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not much of a Beatles fan. Revolver’s the Liverpool band’s ‘middle’ album, catching the foursome in transition from preppy, mop-topped lads to daring studio songsmiths. If you preferred their early rock work with sweet vocal harmonies and catchy pop choruses, Revolver has that. If you preferred their later psychedelic sounds and genre fusions, Revolver has that. And if you preferred hearing The Beatles as a unified band at the peak of their creative powers, that’s Revolver to a tee. Seriously, what isn’t there to like about this album?

Okay, maybe the stylistic jumps could be a bit much, especially back in the day when no one had a clue just how out there The Beatles would soon get (oh hi, White Album). The A-side of Revolver must have one of the wildest runs of pseudo-rock music ever crafted to that point ( and yes, I’m reviewing the ‘proper’ UK version). It all starts innocently enough, railing against The Man in Taxman for a chipper jaunt, but then McCartney turns out such a sad tune about lonely people (Eleanor Rigby) with a backing string section. Wait, wasn’t this band making happy love songs like Please Please Me and Love Me Do but a mere three years prior? Man, fame really did turn them cynical in short order, didn’t it? Oh wait, here’s bouncy I’m Only Sleeping after that, so they haven’t gotten all so serious yet, though the weird’s creeping in with a guitar recording played in reverse.

And the A-side lunacy doesn’t end yet with Revolver. Love You To is our first introduction to Harrison’s fascination with Indian instruments, which is all kinds of awesome or terrible, depending on what era of Beatlesmania you fall under (awesome!). Following that are Here, There And Everywhere and She Said She Said, which aren’t that weird compared to all else that’s performed, but lodged right in the middle of that is Yellow Submarine. Most know it as that song their parents played for them as a kid in hopes of being turned into Beatles fans at an early age. I cannot deny its sing-songy nature, fun nonsensical lyrics and cartoony sound effects is catnip to children ears. Plus, how brilliant is it that Ringo gets to sing Yellow Submarine, making the song relatable as an everyman pub chanty since you don’t need impeccable vocal harmonies to sing along.

Side number two obviously can’t compare to the first half of Revolver, though there are charming bits about (plus a total downer in For No One for the miserable sorts). On the other hand, Tomorrow Never Knows is at the end, the most big-beaty, sampledelic meaty, off-the-wall kick-assery Beatles tune ever – it’s ‘90s Brit rock thirty years early, though I’m sure all those bands freely admit Tomorrow Never Knows being an influence. It was the most perfect capper to an already dynamic album. No way The Beatles could top it. No way. (they did)

The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

Capitol Records: 1966/2001

Pull up for a tantalizing tale of talented musicians of the '60s. The Beatles were going from strength to strength, Paul McCartney and John Lennon riding an unprecedented creative streak into Revolver. Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys, despite coming off old-fashioned in the wake of the British Invasion, sought out to do nothing less than top that album. And so he did, Pet Sounds the results. Gobsmacked, the Liverpool Four went out of their way to top that album, which they did with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. So Brian had to top them once more, which he tried to with Smile ...except he had a nervous breakdown and mothballed most of those sessions, save some psychedelic weirdness and one of the greatest pop songs of all time in Good Vibrations.

Whoops, I'm getting ahead of things there. Then again, can it be helped with Pet Sounds, an album so ahead of its time, rock scholars are still finding tantalizing tidbits to study? It’s utterly insane the amount of production poured into all these simple little pop jangles and ballads, some of which seemingly used for little more than a lark. The out-of-tune mandolin that opens Wouldn’t It Be Nice is a mere precursor to the ‘kitchen-sink’ approach Wilson implemented. It’s like he scoured studios for any instrument or relic and found ways of fitting them in. “A Theremin? Sure, it’ll make for a neat capper on I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times.” Small surprise the BBC did a new version of God Only Knows this year that only matched the original by throwing in every damn musician they could find into the session. Even then, I still prefer the original’s simple clippity-clop percussion over a full orchestra.

Pet Sounds is a triumph of studio wizardry, no doubt, but technical achievement does not timeless music make. What elevated this album above so many others are the themes Brian brings up, poignant coming of age reflections that often escape us until well after the fact. For instance That’s Not Me touches upon the romanticism of moving to the big city in search of fame, fortune and romance, which many young hopefuls in the ‘60s did in earnest. Yet here’s one guy realizing such pursuits were foolhardy, nor his dreams – he only did it because everyone else was doing it. I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times follows upon such sentiments, while I Know There’s An Answer (aka: Hang On To Your Ego) calls out the stubborn few who figure they know better regardless for the confused, isolated sorts they are. Couple this with love songs among the most mature you’ll ever hear (God Only Knows, Don’t Talk, Here Today), and you’ve an album thematically miles away from the carefree, youthfully exuberant ‘fun-in-the-sun’ vibes The Beach Boys were known for. Heady stuff, which few could relate to – at least until everyone went glum in the ‘70s, and many more in the decades that followed. Brian Wilson just got there first.

Beastie Boys - Paul's Boutique

Capitol Records: 1989

Licensed To Ill is the Beastie Boys album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of a Beastie Boys fan; or rather, if you're not much of a hip-hop fan. Those 808 beats were fine so long as thrashing guitars are right around the corner, and the Boys themselves were easy enough to follow as lyricists. It's a 'rawk' album in rap's clothing, and perfectly safe for unwilling strollers near urban music. However, if you do fancy yourself a proper hip-hop consumer, then Paul's Boutique is unquestionably the Beastie Boys album you're supposed to have, full-stop.

As is so often the case with these seminal records though, Paul's Boutique was a commercial dud compared to the Beastie's debut. Mind, it wasn't entirely their fault, many factors contributing to public indifference: losing the Def Jam deal, bringing on relative unknown producers called The Dust Brothers, gangsta rap becoming the new hotness, getting stereotyped as nothing more than a bunch of punk brats, going too artistically ambitious before the world of music was ready for it. God damn, 1989 was square.

The truth of the matter – and what everyone came to realize after the fact – was Paul’s Boutique took the concept of sample-heavy hip-hop to unprecedented levels. The Bomb Squad of Public Enemy were already doing crazy new things, but the Beastie-Dust dynamic strolled right back into hip-hop’s yard, dropped a flat of cardboard at everyone’s feet, and busted out the freshest moves on the scene, giving everyone notice that the game had officially been taken to the next level (wait, I’m getting my pillars mixed up). The album soon became an underground hit (lack of sales will do that), earning them the respect of hip-hop’s elite, and solidifying their status as rap artists of equal peer.

Paul’s Boutique’s also one of the finest ‘Americana’ records around. Obviously that’s in large part to the Dust Brothers’ liberal sampling, finding room for funk (Shake Your Rump, Car Thief, Hey Ladies), throwback 808-hop (High Plains Drifter), rock (Looking Down The Barrel Of The Gun), blues (To All The Girls), country hoe-down (5-Piece Chicken Dinner), goofball yokel nonsense (The Sounds Of Science), and movie scores (Egg Man). Okay, some of these are just samples, but it’s in there, making this album a collage of all the weird things you can find across the lower 49-States (Hawaiian folk music’s gotta’ be in there somewhere). Imagine browsing a mythical Paul’s Boutique pawn shop with all sorts of silly American cultural artefacts in crowded narrow aisles, located in the most meltingly pot of Brooklyn neighbourhoods. That’s what listening to this album is like.

Lyrically, the boys stepped up their game too (The Sounds Of Science invented nerdcore!), but they still find time for hitting on girls, carefree shenanigans and causing mischief. So if you’re one of those “only Licensed To Ill, yo” types, give this one a whirl too. How can you hate on a song about throwing eggs at people?

Beastie Boy - Hello Nasty

Capitol Records: 1998

I don't think anyone anticipated the Beastie Boys having such big hits as those spawned off Hello Nasty. A fun single or two, sure, but surely their schtick was utterly dated as the '90s drew to a close. Three MCs, rhyming off each other's interplay like Run DMC was still relevant (okay, they were still around, but y'know what I mean), a bunch of wicki-wicki-waa from an actual DJ, and who ever really liked their rock and funk explorations anyway? No, the Beasties should have failed, unable to keep pace with hip-hop's over-indulgence of gangsta shenanigans and seeking the bling life. Or worse, in an attempt to reconnect with the youth, adopted nu-metal into their repertoire.

Holy hell, is it ever a good thing they didn’t give two flute loops about what contemporary audiences expected of them and simply cut loose with what they do best. If there’s any scene they did get chummy with, it was the electronic one, which had shared history with the Beastie’s brand of b-boy bombast (weren't The KLF initially just the Scottish Beasties anyway?). The lead single Intergalactic was the perfect olive branch to ravers worldwide, with big beats, quirky electro sounds, and enough ‘up to date’ retro vibes that any DJ could drop it and get a massive reaction. Small wonder Lord Discogs recommends names like Daft Punk, DJ Shadow, and Mr. Oizo on Intergalactic's page.

Oh yeah, there's a whole album more to talk about with Hello Nasty. I'm sure ya'll remember Body Movin', probably thanks to yet another goof-ball video the Boys were masters at. A third single off here was Three MCs and One DJ, which had the trio feeding off numerous scratch samples and turntable trickery from Mixmaster Mike (sort of an honorary fourth Beastie Boy). Quite a few tracks on here do this, to be honest, though more often than not it's post-studio production creating the dense sound collages of off-beat samples, thick rhythms, and indie rock leanings.

As for the rest of the album, well... Okay, there's a reason most only remember Hello Nasty for Intergalactic, Body Movin', and not much else: too much filler. Oh, it's good filler, in that you won't find yourself itching for the skip button if you're willing to take the album in full, but can any of you recall how Picture This or Flowin' Prose go? I sure can't, and I just listened to the damned album! Maybe it was one of those instrumental, psychedelic funk jams?

Despite a second half that just can't live up to the first (how could anything with such a one-two punch as Body Movin' and Intergalactic?), Hello Nasty's still a high recommendation for those diving into the Beastie Boys' discography. It may not be as ground breaking as Paul's Boutique or as stupid-fun as Licenced To Ill, but it reaches a comfortable middle-ground between the two, and propelled the Boys back to the front of hip-hop relevancy. Not bad for three white former punks.

The Steve Miller Band - Greatest Hits 1974-78

Capitol Records: 1978

You’ve likely heard more Steve Miller Band songs than you’re aware of. While everyone – and I mean everyone - knows The Joker, Jungle Love, and Fly Like An Eagle are by the space-folk rock act, there’s plenty more they’ve released that you’re going to recognize without even realizing it’s the same band. Yes, even within the narrow time frame of their discography this greatest hits package covers.

For instance, I always associated Swingtown with my old man, as it’s been one of his staples for whatever bar band he happens to be playing in, easily and awesomely nailing the opening “Ohhhhh” refrain and lyrics. It was years before I discovered this was one of Steve Miller Band’s biggest hits, yet after hearing so many practice sessions growing up, I can’t help but think it’s my dad on the vocals, and not Steve Miller. Oh my, this is quickly turning into an anecdote review, isn’t it?

Can’t be helped. Steve Miller Band’s music has become so ubiquitous on radio stations (not to mention endlessly licensed out for soundtracks) that you’re almost guaranteed to have at least known someone older playing the ever-living shit out of these tunes. Some sort of memory will become associated with a Steve Miller Band song – even if it’s nothing more than, say, a teenaged Homer Simpson singing along to The Joker - that almost any discussion about their music will undoubtedly turn anecdotal over where you heard it (more often than not, at a bar or house party).

Despite the band having a long history with plenty of variety, this particular release deals with the peak of their radio popularity, and boy did Steve Miller ever hit upon a winning formula: good ol’ Southern blues, folk and rock, with just enough psychedelia to stand out from their peers, and dance floor savvy (ooh, is that a touch of disco I hear in Jungle Love?) to make these bar staples for decades to come. Despite this particular greatest hits collection gathering up music from a mere three album’s worth of material, very little AOR makes up this package; maybe the synth-effects lead-in to Jet Airliner, Threshold, could be considered one, but Miller realized he could get double the royalties if Threshold was considered a separate track, and you can’t imagine your classic rock station playing Jet Airliner without that lead-in, now can you.

Look, you don’t need me to tell you Greatest Hits 1974-78 is a solid package of charming pop-rock. You’ve heard tunes like blues-stomper The Stake, starry-eyed hippie folk Wild Mountain Honey, and inoffensive rock-chugger Take The Money And Run plenty of times, even if not these songs in particular. Steve Miller took blues-rock staples, turned them about as radio friendly as one could in the ‘70s, and crafted a pile memorable hits as a result. You wouldn’t want to hear these all the time, but good luck holding back a nostalgic grin on your face when one of these songs crops up.

Pink Floyd - The Dark Side Of The Moon

Capitol Records: 1973

One of two Pink Floyd albums you're supposed to have even if you're not much of a Pink Floyd fan. Hell, it's one of about a dozen rock albums you're supposed to have even if you're not much of a rock music fan. I do likes me some rockin' and some rollin', but the Floyds never hooked me, which is odd considering how much of a Banco de Gaia fanboy I am. Maybe I'll fall sway to their mopey, trippy charms some day.

You don't need to digest their discography to enjoy Dark Side Of The Moon though. This is a very good record, great, classic even. Don't take my word for it, just ask every single rock publication that has ever existed ever. Or if you don't believe me, throw on your local classic rock station to hear it for yourself. Chances are you'll hear almost all of it throughout the course of a day, maybe even the whole thing if you happen across a Pink Floyd tribute hour.

Still, this is an electronic music blog (most of the time), so I suppose I should mention some of the electronic things on this album. There's On The Run, the bloopy synth-effects second track that every young raver hears for the first time and thinks, “Holy shit, Pink Floyd could do that!? Maybe there's a remix of it!” And then they find said remix, which is nothing more than a 909 kick added or something equally lame, coming away disappointed by the wasted potential. Not that I was such a young raver, mind, but I did come across a few who thought they'd stumbled upon something revolutionary when discovering some white label bootleg of On The Run (Added Kick Mix).

Fortunately, there’re better remix efforts of Dark Side Of The Moon over the years, including Dub Side Of The Moon by the Easy Star All-Stars that got a lot of positive press at the time. I don't have that one, nor am I inclined to hear it if I'm honest. I like dub and I like Dark Side, but not at the same time, which is funny considering the studio trickery occurring in this album could be considered dub music as well.

Y’know, if I’m being honest about that, I’ll be honest about this: I wasn’t in the mood to hear Dark Side right now. It’s music that lets you savour a strong mope, best enjoyed on gray, wet, miserable, morning-after days that folks claim perfectly captures England’s stiff upper lip. I was in a good mood, dammit. The sky was blue and full of sun. I got new music in the mail. A lab mark I thought would bomb came back a near perfect. My back didn’t hurt. I had ice in my glass. Cheers, Mr. Pink & His Floyds, for ruining my day. Why do I have this again? Oh yeah, because I’m supposed to have it.

Alright, the music’s good too, great, classic even.

Nomad - Changing Cabins

Capitol Records: 1991

Nomad’s ultra-mega hit Devotion was among the first EDM tunes that I noticed, even before 2 Unlimited. The reason for this was Devotion placed higher in the tracklist of the CD they were both featured on (Dance Mix ‘92, for those who care - man, was that ever an influential CD…). I didn’t think much of it then, figuring it just a filler track compared to the up-tempo jams on offer, and would skip it whenever I threw that disc on. Of course, I was a silly young teenager who had a lot to learn about electronic music, but we all start somewhere.

Now, I think Devotion is brilliant, a perfect blend of many wonderful things that made cross-over house popular in the early 90s. The oh-so soulfully sweet chorus, simple enough that it’ll lodge in your head and have you repeating it long after the track’s passed by. Charming production tricks like stadium cheers (thanks, KLF), tinny hooks, bobbing baselines, and subtle bloops abound, plus a rap by a white Brit that’s far from embarrassing. And pads! My god, those perfect pads! They’re barely noticeable, tucked well in the background, yet the dreamy vibe of the song would be utterly lost without them. Even the video’s got that “only in ’91” magic. Yes, I do say Devotion deserves its classic status.

So who the devil was Nomad, and why didn’t they have any more classics? Well, Damon Rochefort, the main brains behind Nomad (name’s a giveaway) seemed to have several other interests he wanted to pursue, and charting big may have given him the financial security to do so. Makes sense, but it’s also possible he explored all he wanted to with this album, Changing Cabins.

Simply put, nearly every variation of house that existed by ’91 can be found here. You got the American-influenced diva stuff, with Sharon Dee Clarke providing most of the pipes. There’s Balearic vibes in Higher Than Heaven, Latin rhythms in Barcelona, and Jamaican toastin’ with The Raggamuffin Number. Devotion also has an upbeat sibling, Just A Groove, which was initially just as successful but is now mostly forgotten, never finding its way onto ‘Old School Anthems’ comps.

Yet, with all these influences on display and production to back it up, Changing Cabins lacks any real identity of its own. In a market that had competition from The KLF, 808 State, and The Shamen - not to mention the burgeoning underground rave scene - simply paying tribute to your inspiration wasn’t enough to stand out from the pack. British acid house had the distinction of being a melting pot of several forms of music, often within the same track. Aside from Devotion and Just A Groove, there’s little of that here, merely playing things straight on a track to track basis.

Changing Cabins isn’t a poor album, but it doesn’t hold surprises or hidden treasures time somehow forgot. If British house of the early 90s holds little interest, just stick with Devotion. Nearly everyone else has.