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 Beach Boys - Smiley Smile/Wild Honey

Capitol Records: 1967/1990

I didn't get too detailed about the music on Brian Wilson's Smile because it's so much more fun comparing those finished songs to the weird versions found on Smiley Smile. As mentioned, Wilson had the album pretty well planned out, but stress and timing (curse ye', Sgt. Pepper's!) derailed whatever progress he managed. The lead singles in Heroes And Villains and Good Vibrations still made it to the market more or less as intended, but the accompanying tunes were nowhere near properly realized. Part of that is due to their very nature within Smile's arrangement, often interstitial compositions building a thematic whole. As standalone songs though, they don't work as effectively, and definitely not in the versions we get on Smiley Smile.

For instance, Smile has Vega-Tables a bouncy bit of pop declaring one's love for, um, vegetables. Look, the vocals are catchy as Hell, and it’s cute hearing actual recordings of celery and carrots being chomped on. Vegetables, as it's known on Smiley Smile, is more minimalist, like a subdued hoe-down, including blowing into a glass bottle for a rhythm - oh, and Paul McCartney provided vegetable chomps on this version, so I guess that's one point in S.S.'s favour. Meanwhile, Wind Chimes sounds all eerie (!) and creepy here rather than reflective and charming in Smile. Then Fall Breaks Back To Winter is tripped-out woodblock and cuckoo clock nonsense, whereas the harmonic ideas are fully realized in the orchestral firestorm that is Mrs. O'Leary's Cow. And let's not get into the songs with tape manipulations and stoner dullness. Such wacky things might have been acceptable in the '60s, it’s clear most of these were studio jams used to filled space on an expectant album that had Good Vibrations on it.

I can't say enough just how brilliant that song is. When you break each portion down and hear what's going on, which instrument is being used (that theremin!), where each melody and harmony complements each other, its small wonder that it took months to complete. Selling that point are a few bonus supplements on this CD, one with a studio rehearsal, and another an early run-through. I'd say these features are only for obsessives, but I count myself among such folk when it comes to Good Vibrations, so there it is.

Speaking of bonuses, the perk of releasing '60s back-catalogue onto CD is the ample space the aluminum provided, such that they could cram two old-timey albums onto one disc. The follow-up to Smiley Smile was a throwback soul album titled Wild Honey, which some claim is one of The Beach Boys' best albums post-Pet Sounds. It's certainly a different LP in their discography, more emphasis on rhythm and blues than sweet pop harmonies. It also gave Carl Wilson a chance to lead on a few songs, and his coarser singing voice definitely added a rougher veneer to a group still thought of as preppy boys. Goes to show what aping Rolling Stones can do for one’s image.

The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

Parlaphone: 1967/2009

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not much of a Beatles fan. If you’re a totally predictable, cliché music collector anyway. Most folks don’t bother with the albums, getting any number of the greatest hits packages for their Beatles fix and calling it a day. Sgt. Pepper’s though, we’re told is a must have, an essential have, resting at the peak of a rock ‘n’ roll mountain of Very Important Albums. So get it folks do, because why not, it’s got cool songs on it like A Little Help From My Friends, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, and the epic A Day In The Life. I think everybody’s day should end with a massive piano chord slowly ebbing away as sleep takes you over.

Yet I wonder how many actually play the whole album through. Any Beatles fanatic obviously does – to not indulge their concept LP in its entirety is punishable by eternal Yoko yodeling. Do casuals have much care for George Harrison’s complete dive into Indian meditation music in Within You Without You though? Do the screaming fangirls of yore suddenly fantasize becoming a meter-maid, thus wooing the fancy of McCartney in Lovely Rita? Did a bunch of starry-eyed hippies marvel at the production ingenuity of carnival funfair ode Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite? I somehow suspect not, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band faring no better than any other number of Beatles albums of their studio era. This album has a massive gap between songs everyone knows intimately, and songs folks would have trouble identifying as part as one of the rock music’s most beloved records. “Oh yeah, Fixing A Hole’s totally a Beatles tune, it’s off one of those white albums, right?”

I know I’m dodging a proper review of Sgt. Pepper’s, but my analysis is moot. The record is almost a half-century old, and is so thoroughly dissected by music historians, the only original angle I can offer is anecdotal. Speaking of, my road trip with my old man gave me a chance to pick his brain about many things music related, including this album he insisted we bring. He was a young teenager then, swept in by Sgt. Pepper’s unique vision, realizing the possibilities of what rock music could achieve. I can appreciate Sgt. Pepper’s impact on those terms too (plus, y’know, just vibe on all the great tunes), but to hear it described as a game-changer from someone who was actually there when the album first dropped, a wistful look in his eyes at remembering how all the old rules were shattered, does give it a fresh perspective. She’s Leaving Home’s just a nice, mellow song on a good album to my ears, but is remarkably poignant to his.

Other bands might have shown potential to do what The Beatles did with Sgt. Pepper’s, but the Liverpool Four had the access to top-end studio gear, work ethic, and commercial clout to realize such a vision first.

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.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Rust Never Sleeps

Reprise Records: 1979/1990

The only Neil Young Comeback Album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a fan of Neil Young Comeback Albums. Yes, he's had enough of them to count as their own, distinct branch in the massive tree that is Rusty's discography. They're not so definitive as before, his career lately seeing more ebb and flow rather than peaks and valleys of decades pasts. For a brief while there in the '70s though, it looked as though Young would never recapture the creative spark that marked his early material.

Not that he was in a serious slump leading up to this album – certainly nothing that could rival the true dark times of the mid-‘80s. Unfortunately, following his critically lauded “Ditch Trilogy”, Young was in danger of succumbing to a terrible thing for any popular musician: irrelevancy. His album output had turned sketchy, failing to grab fresh audiences as new trends took hold of public discourse in the late ‘70s. Thus, like most rockers of the ‘60s, he was left with only two options. One: double-down on the music that earned him his dedicated following, and retain his loyal fans but risk creative stagnation. Two: attempt a bandwagon jump, keeping one’s name with the pace of cultural movements, but almost certainly make an ass of yourself in the process; a desperate bid at remaining relevant. Naturally, Neil F’n Young chose option number Three: cater to the faithful, and successfully tap into a new rock zeitgeist.

The inspiration came with a concept tour, one that would encompass two performances on stage. The first half would be primarily a solo outing of him playing acoustic folk material (with a duet thrown in here and there), then Crazy Horse would join him for some rock ‘n’ roll ruckus. He’d play some old standards, but mostly new material (from which this album’s track list was culled). The stage itself had giant-sized props of gear, handled by roadies dressed in Jawa costumes, and encourage audience interaction by donning faux 3D glasses, witnessing the band “decay before their very eyes”. It was the most theatrical set of concerts Young had ever put on, in some small part inspired by his wacky chums over at the Devo camp. In truth, they came up with the phrase “rust never sleeps” for a cleaner solution advertisement. Figures Young would take it as representing the dangers of artistic decay.

The folk numbers become some of Rustie’s enduring classics, a critical look back on his musical compatriots in Thrashers, and more stands for Native American tragedies in Pocahontas and Ride My Llama. Where he truly made a mark though, was Hey Hey, My My, a thunderous blast of distortion and noise that put his generation of rockers on notice: punk music was the real deal, a force that could not be ignored. Time to adapt, or unceremoniously fade as the old King Of Rock, Elvis Presley, had so recently. Some serious shots fired there, and pay attention the rock world did.

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!

ACE TRACKS: March 2015

Hey, it’s April 1st, which means I have to do a prank or some shit like that. Okay, let’s see…. Um.. ah, I got it. I promise to review ALL the Armin van Buuren albums! Hahaha! Oh, that’s rich. What, too obvious? Okay, how about this one. I’ll not review all the AvB albums! Ah, hahaaha, hoho hee! That’s not a prank either? Well, what do you want, a close-up sneak peak to Ishkur’s Guide To Electronic Music 3.0? How about a fresh playlist of ACE TRACKS from the past month instead?


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
The Beatles - Revolver
Bandulu - Redemption
Various - In Trance We Trust 006: DJ Cor Fijneman

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 11%
Percentage Of Rock: 12% (note: not all the included rock bands perform actual rock here)
Most “WTF?” Track: I honestly can’t think of one with this bundle. Maybe some of the ‘cracker trance towards the end. Like, how could I ever enjoy such corn! If we’re going that route though, any Bryan Adams?

Quiz: what do Bandulu and The Beatles have in common? They’re both British! Oh, and neither are officially on Spotify, though you can find plenty of cover bands doing Beatles classics. No such luck with Bandulu, sadly.

This one came together remarkably well, which was nice considering the last few playlists were messier than I’d have liked. Even the dalliances into rock don’t sound forced (yes, even Bryan Adams). Also, as with ACE TRACKS: December 2013, I’ve lumped all the In Trance We Trust material at the end, so if you need your eurotrance fix, you’ve a jolly good lot of it at the end. Also, it seemed appropriate kicking that segment off with Faithless’ Insomnia, since they were partially responsible for clubby anthems of that sort gaining popularity.

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 Police - Reggatta de Blanc

A&M Records: 1979

With Reggatta de Blanc, The Police went from catchy punk oddities to catchy ‘cod reggae’ oddities, and scored the big number one on the UK charts in doing so. Man, why do so many ‘reggae by white rock groups’ always hit the charts like that? I can see it happening the late ‘70s, when reggae was growing in popularity, but that trend continues to this day. Why don’t folks vibe on the authentic stuff more? It’s not like understanding the lyrics is crucial or anything – I sure can’t understand what them Jamaicans are going on about most of the time. At least The Police had the sense approaching the genre with both respect and tongue planted firmly in cheek, fully admitting in the title of the album that, yes, you’re in for some ‘white reggae’ (and a little post-punk).

This is The Police album no one’s embarrassed having in their collection. Like, Outlandos might be a bit too punky, Zenyatta a bit too simple, Ghost a bit too weird, and Synchronicity a bit too ‘80s, but Reggatta? Everyone loves that one, even if they only remember a few songs off of it. Message In A Bottle is the big one though, scoring the band their first number one single in the UK, plus Top 10 in several others (not in America though – guess they’d yet to catch onto reggae-rock). It’s hard denying the song craft involved in this one, an instantly memorable guitar hook complemented by some of Copeland’s best drumming and one of Sting’s all-time greatest pieces of lyricism. You can take the tale literally, of an unlucky chap lost at sea, or metaphorically, a sad soul alone in the world, each equally vivid in its narration. I’m not just blowing smoke up The Police’s asses either, each member often claiming Message In A Bottle one of their finest moments as a band.

That tight musicianship is prevalent throughout Reggatta de Blanc, even with a rather slap-dash approach to writing. Story goes they didn’t have much idea of an album going in, running with whatever material they could come up with on the fly. Fortunately, they hang off so many winning hooks and lyrics throughout, their musical indulgences are allowed. Give us all that weightless reverb in Walking On The Moon! Mr. Summers, you go right ahead with those rhythmic reverb diddly-dos on your guitar in The Bed’s Too Big Without You! Mr. Copeland, all those wonderful drum fills in Deathwish, don’t you stop! And boys, with the titular cut, what a build!

Mind you, this isn’t a perfect album by any means. The punk holdovers like It’s Alright For You and No Time This Time aren’t as good as the Outlandos material, and Copeland’s novelty tunes (hilariously cynical On Any Other Day, bass-fuzz Contact, and piano ditty Does Everyone Stare) are strictly fans-only. With such a timeless cut like Message In A Bottle on hand though, it’s hard not becoming a fan of The Police thereafter.

Bryan Adams - Reckless

A&M Records: 1984

Yeah, yeah, go on. Rib, mock, jest, and jeer all you want, I can take it. I'm puffin' my chest out at you though, getting all “Come at me, bro!” in your faces with this. Throw your best shots. Bryan Adams sucks, you say? More like rocks, says I! You claim he writes obvious rock-schlock and has a crap singing voice? I claim he writes perfectly enjoyable rock anthems, with a hoarse bellow befitting arenas. He's a has-been, way past his prime? Well, Reckless is his prime! Heaven is a wretched piece of sap, not only spawning countless rock-ballads from bands who should know better, but inspiring hideous euro-dance cover bilge decades later? Yeah, okay, you got me there.

And what the heck, I'll join ya'll; or rather, my pre-teen self will. See, Bryan Adams is the first musician I recall hating, specifically for that one ubiquitous song of 1991, (Everything I Do) I Do It For You. I couldn't escape the bloody thing. Pop radio, rock radio, MuchMusic, weddings, awkward school dances, Kevin Costner movies - no matter where I went, the ballad was there, and I loathed it. Of course, matters weren't helped that I was living in Vancouver at the time, every local media outlet thus promoting the ever loving shit out of their home-grown star export. Time passes though, and as I learned more of Mr. Adams' back-catalogue, I realized that the chap was responsible for some of my favourite rock hits of the '80s too, many of which came from this here album.

He and song-writing partner Jim Vallance had already developed a respectable reputation within the industry with Adams’ third album Cuts Like A Knife. Reckless finds the duo in full stride, spoiling the listener with the ear-wormiest rock to ever grace radio land. Run To You, Summer Of ‘69, Somebody, Kids Wanna Rock, the Tina Turner featuring It’s Only Love, and, *sigh*, Heaven, are all on here. Hell, they make up the whole middle portion of Reckless. That’s six classic staples of ‘80s rock, all in a row, mang! What a ridiculous run of music there, the likes of which few musicians ever accomplish in their career, much less in the span of a single LP. Rounding things out are agreeable rockers like One Night Love Affair, She’s Only Happy When She’s Dancin’, a honky-tonk offering with Long Gone, and an arena loud, uptempo finale in Ain’t Gonna Cry, ending full-stop and leaving the listener hungry for more. International stardom certified from there on out.

I can’t deny Reckless is super-slick and studio polished – it doesn’t ‘rawk’. Compared to many other rock efforts of the era though, it at least has more fire and heart than most. Obviously punk and metal heads weren’t going to give Adams much love (erm, aside surprisingly placing forty-ninth in a 100 Greatest Heavy Metal Albums 1989 article from UK metal magazine Kerrang!), but for everyone else, this is a fun LP, and Adams’ best overall effort.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - re-ac-tor

Reprise Records: 1981/2003

Just how sloppy and loose can a band go before it turns unacceptable? For that authentic scrappy, bar-blues rock played out of downtown dive garage feeling (or something), folks often gives a little on the technical side. Where Mr. Young and his band-of-brothers Crazy Horse are concerned, listeners wouldn’t have it any other way, their freewheeling approach to music making part and partial of their charm. It’s given them the leeway to go into albums with barely any prep and only the most tenuous of themes: Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere is about capturing fresh band synergy at its source of inspiration; Ragged Glory is about re-capturing that same spark long after it should have expired; Psychedelic Pill is about re-re-capturing that spark even as grandpas.

Those are just the albums I’ve thus far reviewed though (wow, what a weird thematic coincidence), and the group’s done other material with a different focus. In the case of re-ac-tor, Neil had to fulfill his album obligation to Reprise Records before getting a sweet deal from Geffen, and slapped out a sloppy collection of Crazy Horse jams to do so. Okay, that’s not entirely accurate, but given the utter lack of finesse in many of these songs, it makes for a juicy bit of suppositional gossip taking that stance.

The truth is a little more nuanced, Neil’s personal life growing incredibly stressful and in need of some changes. That he’d miss some creative fire or not have time for proper rehearsals with Crazy Horse is understandable in that context, but one must ask why force an album if he’s not quite feeling it? Songs like Get Back On It, Motor City, and Rapid Transit are some of the goofiest, simplest examples of southern rock I’ve ever heard, while T-Bone is nothing more a drunken three-chord jam that lasts nine minutes! Still, if you’re a fan of Young and Horse, it’s an awesome drunken three-chord jam session, but you’d hardly want to show it off to others as the group at their best.

And hey, Young always finds ways of crafting catchy, compelling music even on his off years. Southern Pacific is a charming ode to the once-mighty rail industry, with a suitably chugging rhythm and, dare I say, picturesque lyrics (plus was packaged as a bizarre triangular gatefold 7” single). Shots is also vivid, though with such ugly and messy manner with blown chords, out-of-sync rhythm, and nasty distortion, the sloppy production of re-ac-tor actually makes sense in this case. Finally, Opera Star and Surfer Joe And Moe The Sleaze are fun little bar rock tunes, probably also performed while intoxicated.

That’s about the strongest endorsement for this album I can give: best enjoyed drunk. Neil And His Wacky Horses have stronger LPs in their discography, some dynamic, others somber - this one’s about as half-assed as you’ll ever hear the group, but perhaps one of the funnest too. Screw you, SpellCheck, I cans sloopy grammar alls I wants to for re-ac-tor.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Psychedelic Pill

Reprise Records: 2012

As I’ve repeated endlessly, Neil Young, restless muse that he is, never fears exploring musical genres. Whether it be blues, synth-pop, hillbilly ho-down, guitar drone, gospel, or something totally made-up for a single song that one time (probably), his discography is littered with curious cul-de-sacs jutting off from his rock and folk thoroughfares. However, Young’s most utterly bizarre detour has to be this double-album of psy trance. Not that he wouldn’t want to try his hand at something electronic again, but aside from the shared hippie lineage, this is so outside Young’s traditional sound that- What do you mean Psychedelic Pill isn’t psy trance? This is Psy Trance Week, isn’t it? What’s this album doing here then? Curse ye’, alphabetical stipulation – you gummed up another theme week!

So what we don't have here is Neil Young and his Crazy Horse band doing psy trance; rather, it's the dynamic foursome going back to their grungy rock roots and indulging themselves for obscene lengths of time. One track hits the nine minute mark, two more breach sixteen, and the opener Driftin' Back lasts a whopping twenty-seven minutes, officially become the longest song Young's ever recorded. And it's fucking awesome! Psychedelic Pill is the NYCH album fans had been hoping on for years, at least since their last good run in the mid-'90s. We always knew the group had it in them to absolutely tear through some new guitar epics, their occasional live shows more than enough proof. Who cares if the lyrics are some of the simplest, mundane things Young’s ever sung - that didn’t stop the ridiculous T-Bone from way back being good stupid fun. Besides, this is all about the wonderful, crunchy distortion and impeccable synergy between these musicians. They may not be as ‘locked in’ as their older classics, but Ramada Inn, She’s Always Dancing, and Walk Like A Giant are as fun of musical rides as you can expect from Young & Horse.

And of course you don’t really care that much. Okay, maybe you do, if you’ve read this far, but more so than most Neil Young albums I’ve reviewed, Psychedelic Pill’s a hard sell. Walk Like A Giant and She’s Always Dancing have lovely harmonizing vocals, and Ramada Inn features as catchy a bar rock hook as you’ll ever hear, yet are surrounded by so much jamming, it’ll try the patience of all but the most ardent rock fans out there. And unfortunately, the few shorter tunes littered about this double-LP aren’t much to get fussed over (the titular cut’s got some cool flanging effects going for it though), especially when overshadowed by the behemoth songs. Also, are we really all that interested in Young reminiscing about the days of old again? No, can’t say that we are.

Damn it though, I can’t get enough of Young and Crazy Horse’s epic, sloppy rock. Only get Psychedelic Pill after you’ve been bitten by the Rusty bug. Once you have, come on in for the chemical-enhanced treat!

ACE TRACKS: January 2014

Whoa, wait a minute here! How can there already by an ACE TRACKS playlist for January when we’re barely a week into the month? The answer, to the surprise of no one, is that this is the January playlist from last year. Ah, I remember that time so fondly, spending nearly two days straight of finally giving this blog actual sound clips and links via Amazon. Boy, if only I had a different audio service available to me at the time that would have made that process so much easier. If only…



Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Doc Scott - Lost In Drum N’ Bass
The Orb - Live 93
DJ Aaron Carter - Lit Up

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 26%
Percentage of Rock: 4%
Most “WTF?” Track: Archie Bleyer - Hernando’s Hideaway (get your tango on, mate)

This was quite an eclectic month, as far as musical genres are concerned. Beyond the highly recognizable electronic names like Leftfield, Ladytron, Infected Mushroom, and FSOL, there’s obscure acid techno, reggae, world music, and grimey UK bass. Also, live albums, so expect to hear more cheering crowds than a KLF record. Surprisingly, the end result isn’t as convoluted or forced as other 'kitchen sink' playlists I’ve done. I won’t deny a couple clunky transitions, though (sorry, Rae’).

The total runtime is about 10 hours here, but that’s because I gave three whole albums Ace Track status that month: Asura’s Life², Bob Marely’s Legend, and GZA’s Liquid Swords. Instead of clumsily worming these LPs’ individual tracks throughout, I’ve lumped each one at the very end of the playlist. It makes better sense having albums that are great straight through represented as such anyway.

Jefferson Airplane - Platinum & Gold Collection

BMG Heritage: 2003

It may be the biggest fucking cliché having Jefferson Airplane in a music collection, but what was an aging counter-culture chap to do? I was already in my mid-Twenties, man, feeling my grimy raver’s roots slipping away as the allure of proper clubbing beckoned in the big city. But I was still hip, yo’, still down with the folksy, psychedelic sounds that pot smokers and such couldn’t get enough of. I’ll prove it! There, that CD sitting in the bargain bin of this supermarket we’re currently rummaging through. It’s got a couple bona-fide classics of the San Fran’ ‘60s scene – heck, some of these members were utterly adamant that they built that city – built it – built that city – built – built that city on – built it – ‘n’ ro-o-o-l-l-l-l! Head trip, yeah.

Seriously though, the Jefferson Airplane story is a crucial one in understanding how influential their brand of folksy psychedelic rock became, endearing itself to a generation, and several others after who admire the hippie lifestyle (*cringe*). It's only fitting that the band came to an end as the '70s took hold, creative differences leading to a split – one became Jefferson Starship, because '70s sci-fi and shit; the other became Hot Tuna, because '70s progressive, drugs and shit. And then there was just Starship in '80s, which was a huge commercial success and represented all that went wrong for '60s rockers in that decade. Let us never speak of it again.

Obviously with such timeless classics like White Rabbit, Somebody To Love, and... um... mmm… (*checks track list*) ah, Watch Her Ride, the Thomas Aviator Band's seen tons of official and unofficial greatest hits collections over the years. This is one of them. As I recall, the Platinum & Gold Collection series was BMG's excuse to trot out their catalog every so often, just in case you didn't already have these songs on CD or in this order yet (buy the albums? Pft, what are you, a vinyl enthusiast?). There really isn't much else to say about this particular compilation that a rock historian hasn't tirelessly detailed elsewhere.

The main take-away I got from Platinum & Gold Collection is how succinctly it summarizes the San Fran' music scene. The first couple tracks are incredibly folksy, which makes sense since Jefferson Airplane was only a small group of folk musicians when they debuted. Then the psychedelia rode in on a rainbow wave, and they got all trippy good – half this disc features songs from Surrealistic Pillow, from which their most memorable hits came about (adding Grace Slick to the line-up didn't hurt). Then everyone went crazy against war and all that bad stuff, protest rock the new hotness. Figures the final track on here, Volunteers is of the band chanting that there's a revolution going on (Woodstock anthem!). Appropriate for the Jefferson Airplane story ending there, then, before glum reality settled in for the starry-eyed hippie generation. Or a fitting conclusion to this CD. Take your pick.

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.

Sykonee Surveys Spotify's Senseless Suggestions: Round 2

Spotify sure likes sending me suggestions more often than I anticipated. I think its best that I save my surveys until I clear batches of my review backlog, lest they impede my regular progress. I already make enough tangents these days, and I’ve some large bulks to plow through. Just look how many ‘O’s I reviewed, and that’s traditionally one of the ‘lesser’ letters to name your album with!

So last round’s recommendations leaned way heavy on the rock side of things, and not even rock I care much for. I’m giving Spotify the benefit of the doubt on its erroneous assumptions of my musical tastes, what with having so little time to get acquainted an all. It’ll have to butter me up better if it wants me to take its suggestions seriously going forward though. Let’s find out what Round 2 offers.

Kenny Chesney - 1. American Kids / 2. Somewhere With You

Oh for… Spotify, you couldn’t be more off if you tried. This is full-on modern country, which I absolutely, positively never-in-a-zillion years go out of my way to listen to. I don’t hate the stuff, but I’ve no reason to bother with that field of music in my life either. Chesney’s apparently one of the bigger names to emerge from country’s renewed dominance with youthful, tailgating demographics, and I’m quite thankful these two tracks don’t tread anywhere near the Georgia Straight Line dirt road of ‘bro-country’ (yes, this is a thing, and yes, it’s as awful as you’re imagining), but… yeah. This is just one big “NOPE” from me.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 0/5

Radiohead - 3. Karma Police / 4. Paranoid Android

Come on, are you even trying, Spotify? You suggested these guys in the last email. Is Radiohead just a generic, go-to band to name drop? Are you trolling Thom Yorke’s anti-Spotify stance? Also, I’m somewhat disappointed that the next two tracks in this list are more from OK Computer. It’s clear the Top 5 has nothing to do with actual plays, as No Suprises from the last round lags well behind Karma Police by some seven million hits. If this is the case, why not feature more songs from their other albums, mix things up for the newbie Radiohead listener? Ah well, despite Spotify’s insistence at gumming the stats, my Odds score stands with this band.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 3/5

Wu-Tang Clan - 1. C.R.E.A.M. / 2. Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing Ta F’ Wit

I take it all back. Spotify, you totally get me. How’d you know I’d absolutely be down for some Wu-Tang Clan? Sure, I’ve Playlisted Raekwon, U-God, Masta Killa, and Ghostface Killah, but you figured out I might like the Clan having not played anything from RZA, GZA, Ol’ Dirty BZA, Method MZA, or Inspectah DZA (yet). Seriously, this couldn’t have been a more obvious recommendation than suggesting N.W.A. because I played some Dr. Dre or Ice Cube. Yeah, I’m gonna’ listen to the Wu again – they’ll be eventually in an ACE TRACKS Playlist after all – but it would have been nice for Spotify to show a little more intuition than this.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 5/5

Mayday Parade - 3. Oh Well, Oh Well / 4. You’re Dead Wrong

I wasn’t terribly enthused by all the rock recommendations in Round 1, but I at least enjoyed the process of discovering a few new bands, some of which I’ll likely dabble in later on. Mayday Parade was not one of them, got’dang it. Seriously, I gave them an Odds score of 1/5 - I can’t even remember what I wrote about them, so off base with my tastes they were. These two songs are more of the same ‘arena-emo-rock-punk’ style I heard from the their first two, so it’s safe to say that’s the Mayday Parade stylee. No more for me, thanks.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 0/5

Kid Cudi - 1. Pursuit Of Happiness (Extended Steve Aoki Remix) / 2. Just What I Am

I’m assuming I’m getting a Cudi suggestion for the prior hip-hop I’ve listened to, and not because Spotify thinks I’d be down for an Aoki remix or that I might like MGMT (because Radiohead, obviously). I’m honestly surprised to see that track as the first one, as it’s little more than your standard modern-day anthem house rub – there’s thousands of tracks like this one out the. The second track has some cool ambient-electro vibe going for it, but the lyrics are just wack ‘get-wrecked’ party-hop nonsense. He doesn’t even sound that sincere, simply catering to the festival kids. Or maybe that Aoki impression’s still lingering. Will have to hear more of his material for a better idea, and I suspect Spotify will force upon me at that.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 2/5

Weezer - 1. Island In The Sun / 2. Say It Ain’t So

Well sure, may as well get these guys in there at some point. Like many of my teenaged era, I enjoyed their Blue Album, then promptly stopped giving a shit. Okay, that’s not entirely accurate – the ongoing drama of Weezer’s rise-fall-rise-fall-rise-fall in the world of pop is its own unique brand of fascinating for any music enthusiast. The last song I heard from them was the “we’re all on drugs” one, whatever it was called, and I can’t say I’m in a hurry to check out their back catalog. Although, hearing these two songs, especially Say It Ain’t So again, sure does tug at my nostalgic centre. Maybe I ought to finally check out that Pinkerton LP…

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 3/5

Pye Corner Audio - 1. Perfect Secrecy Forever / 2. Sleep Games

Ah, finally something that looks new and interesting. I’ve never heard of this guy before (Martin Jenkins), but he’s been quite busy on the digital release realm, putting out quite a few Black Mill Tapes between albums – he even offered them in tape formats! I should also mention these two tracks aren’t the first pair of suggestions at Spotify, but since the proper first two are both on the John Talbot DJ-Kicks mix, I figured these are more representative of what Pye’s all about. Perfect Secrecy Forever, which came out this year, has a chill-trance New Beat thing going for it, which has been seeing something of a minor bump in interest of late. Sleep Games, the older cut, has a similar sluggish rhythm, though has more of a classic EBM menace about it. I like it. The world could use more New Beat.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 4/5

Grateful Dead - 3. Touch Of Grey / 4. Truckin’

Another repeat. But wait, this Grateful Dead has a different picture. Maybe it’s a different Grateful Dead, one that- (*clicks link*) Nope, still the same ol’ Dead. What’s funny is Touch Of Grey is about the only Dead song I know off hand, and only because it was so ubiquitous on classic rock stations. I also didn’t know it was a Dead song because it sounds so bloody ‘80s, and that’s the last era of music I’d associate with the band, despite their activity lasting well into that decade. Truckin’ is more what you’d expect from a ‘60s hippie jam band. Nothing else to say here that I didn’t say in Round 1.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 3/5

will.i.am - 1. Scream & Shout / 2. Feelin’ Myself



Odds I’ll Listen Again: 0/5

Hybrid Minds - 3. Fade / 4. Trauma

Finally… finally, a repeat I was looking forward to. Only took you four tries to get that right, Spotify. These songs are also from two more different singles, so mixing things up too. I just might not give up on you after all, Spotify Suggestions. Fade and Trauma stick to the same smooth, jazzy liquid-funk vibe that’s given Hybrid Minds props within the jungle scene. Getting more of their tunes just became higher.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 4/5


This Survey was even more erratic than the last one, yet somehow comes away with a near-identical final tally of 24/50. If this feature’s supposed to improve with the more data it gathers on my listening habits, this is actually a worse result than before. I can’t imagine the Artist Suggestions getting any lower than will.i.am though. It just can’t…

ACE TRACKS: October 2014

One month past. Feels like forever since I started up with this Spotify Deezer thinger, yet here we are, finally with a new permanent Playlist for the sidebar to last us another month. Here are the choice cuts from what I reviewed in October.


Full track list here.

Missing Albums:
Calibre - Overflow (FOUND!)
Sunbeam - Out Of Reality
Astropilot - Here And Now TUU - One Thousand Years (FOUND!)
The Orb - The Orb’s Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld
Various - One A.D. (FOUND!)


Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 16%
Percentage Of Neil Young: 5%
Most “WTF?” Track: Aphex Twin - Xepha (like anyone else could take this spot)

Waveform Records isn't on Spotify. I have the sads now, since I can’t share the music they’ve put out exclusively through their label (not to mention some of the older rarities). You’ll just have to settle for the crummy Amazon clips below their reviews or, I dunno, go to their website and buy the music. It’s a worthy purchase, trust me on that.

I’m surprised by how flowing, dynamic, and fun this playlist turned out. You’d think an over-abundance of music from Raekwon, The Orb, and ambient-psy/chill-dub would make for another relatively dull collection of tunes (those May and June ones were kinda’ drab), but nay, there’s enough quirky tangents (Rock! Nu-Jazzsteps! “Peanuts!”) to keep things fresh as it plays through. Won’t deny it’s a long listen though, clocking in at nearly seven hours in length. Hey, I listened to a lot of good music in October, and now you can too, with a few play throughs! Or split it up into chunks. It’s what I do.

The Police - Outlandos d'Amour

A&M Records: 1978/2003

Punk music’s emergence and growth has long been attributed to a youthful counter-reaction to rock’s growing pomposity within prog and jazz-fusion. Looking at some of the biggest bands of the era – The Ramones, Sex Pistols, The Clash, Black Flag, namedrop, namedrop, namedrop – the image that scene cultivated certainly supports the theory. Then you get a trio like The Police, also influenced by punk music, but fronted by musicians that had almost nothing to do with it. Okay, they did have a scrappy start, with financial and critical support so miniscule, you’d think they were a go-nowhere garage band. Plus, it was no secret Sting, Stewart Copeland, and Andy Summers came from the very same prog and jazz-fusion scenes the punk movement so vehemently railed against, seemingly bandwagon jumpers as the music hit its first crossover peak. All in all, The Police had everything working against them, except one key, critical attribute: insanely awesome talent.

They may not have been punk in the strictest sense, but they understood what made that music work. Even better, they could fuse it with other genres like reggae and, yes, jazz, such that it gave their songs remarkable depth for a three-piece act. Seriously, focus on how unique each member sounds – Sting's bass leads, Copeland's dynamic drumming, Summers' playful guitar work – and marvel how well they play off each other.

Of course, that skill initially worked against The Police, many dismissing the debut album Outlandos D'Amour as too slick and polished for a supposed punk band (even with a shoe-string budget and erratic studio time). Even more curiously, their lead singles of Roxanne and Can't Stand Losing You were banned from radio play, dealing with such taboo subjects like prostitution and suicide as they were. On the other hand, if you're ever to gain traction in a counter-culture music scene, being banned from prominent broadcasters was the best way of going about it, and sure enough The Police found their fame growing exponentially soon after. As if a capper on the point, Outlandos D'Amour is now regarded as one of the greatest rock albums of all time. So fickle, the music press.

A few killer singles does not a great album make, however, and you don't need me to tell you how these tunes sound – just turn on your classic rock radio station to hear them once or thrice a day. Instead, gander at some of these less-heralded tunes! Peanuts, a peppy-punk outing that hilariously has Sting shouting “Peanuts! Peanuts!” at the end. Be My Girl and Sally, one a mere pop-punk chorus interrupted by a goofy poem-and-piano bit about a blow-up doll. Masoka Tanga, a... ska jam? Oh, now you're just messing with us, Police man!

Outlandos D'Armour's a fun album, all said. The Police were as tight a band as any of the time, and were still all about having fun with their music, a few years off from getting all socially conscious and shit.

ACE TRACKS: June 2014

Told you making these playlists don’t take long. I could almost make posts like this a weekly thing, which would finally complete the whole backlog by about, oh, Spring Break. No rush. Anyhow, here’s ACE TRACKS: June 2014


Link to full tracklist on Deezer.

Missing Albums:
Bandulu - Guidance
Bandulu - Cornerstone
Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia - The Key
2 Unlimited - No Limits (Found!)

Hip-Hop Percentage: 6%
Neil Young Percentage: 25%
Most “WTF?” Track: Buffalo Springfield - I Am A Child (you'll know why when you hear it)

Bloody shame about Bandulu not being available – would love a little more attention thrown in their direction, even if it’s only on Spotify Deezer. But yes, June was dominated by that Neil Young: Archives collection, which made putting this playlist something of a challenge. That’s just way too much of a single artist to take in a single sitting, and I say this as an absolute fan of the guy! Wound up with half-a-dozen of his songs just lumped together at the end.

Complicating things further were the equal amounts of psy dub, ‘70s synth music, and poppy dance and trance. These styles of music do not mesh well at all, much less while shoehorning ‘60s folk and rock in the there. Hell, the tribal-dub-techno of Bandulu and PWoG actually help bridge them together. I kept things flowing as best I could with what I had to work with, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some feel compelled to hit that skip button.

Neil Young - On The Beach

Reprise Records: 1974/2003

So, how's your day going? Good, you say? That's cool, peachy. I'm doing pretty good myself. Enjoying my new Sennheiser Momentum headphones very much, thank you. What's that, you found $20 on the ground? Wow, that's some swell luck. You know, I think everything's looking bright for us. I almost feel guilty feeling good about things and stuff right now. Hey, I know what will bring me right the fuck down, Neil Young's On The Beach. Few things depress you quicker than that ode to post-hippie '70s existential crisis of being!

Not that you could blame the poor guy. Sure, he was a commercial success and all that, but at what cost had that fame come? If his musician friends weren't dying from drug overdoses, they were getting lost up their needles and noses with the stuff. He could sell out concerts, but considering how often he felt compelled to flee his fanatical fans, what comfort was there in that? And everything else in Americana seemed to be going tits up, the prosperity of the '50s and counter-culture idealism of the '60s getting hit with hard, bitter, cold reality of events out of their control. Where else could Neil Young go but straight for the ditch, burning his bridge to fame (but not his fortune!) as he tried making sense of it all.

Thus, you get a track like Vampire Blues, condemning the Western world’s growing dependence on fossil fuels. There’s Revolution Blues, painting redneck culture as ever the jaded reactionary types as we’ve stereotyped them into today. For The Turnstiles paints a dour picture of other charming Americana like county fairs and baseball games. See The Sky About To Rain is more poetic, coming off like After The Goldrush material (I think it was written around that time anyway). Motion Pictures laments his fame, and Ambulance Blues flat out criticizes all that hippie optimism that accomplished squat in the ‘70s. “Pissing in the wind” indeed.

As those song titles suggest, there’s quite a bit of blues music here, though only the titular cut’s out-and-out blue-blues as you imagine. Revolution Blues is a basic southern rock out (that bass!), and Vampire Blues is the chipper version of blues rock, what with a cool shuffle percussion, a bit of organ action, and one of Shakey’s weirdest solos ever (is he trying to sound like bubbling crude?). For The Turnstiles, meanwhile, goes for a banjo duo, and Ambulance Blues sounds like a whiskey-soaked country jam, including a ...bass fiddle? Whatever it is, it sure sounds sad. I think Toby Marks used something similar on Big Men Cry.

Okay, this is a depressing album, but the music is quite creative and beautiful in its misery. It also helps that Young’s perspective on things got better a few years after, so a happy(ish) wrap to this story. On The Beach is best treated as a time-capsule, a period in Young’s life where he captured a despondent spirit of a generation.