Various - Sounds Of The Seventies: 1977

Time Life Music: 1990

Anyone remember those mail order music collections? They'd advertise on TV with a huge, scrolling playlist, and you'd hear some familiar tunes that they just don't play on the radio anymore, plus your original record or tape of the album has kinda' deteriorated over the years, but you never bothered to buy that new-fangled CD replacement because you just weren't sure of the format yet? Yeah, those ads. At least, I assume that was the pitch with them, letting Boomers regain all their favourite music for a low-low price of $6.99 per CD (or tape), with a new one being shipped every month, like music Christmas every thirty days. I'm not saying Time Life Music's series of The Sounds Of The Sixties/Seventies/Eighties was an example of this – I honestly don't recall any ads of the sort back then – but it sure comes off that way. Lack of barcode on these discs suggests so.

And no, I haven't come into possession an entire collection of these, but a former owner was offloading some, so being the CD hoarding-whore that I am, nabbed a couple because why not. Logically, Sounds Of The Seventies started off with a rundown of music per year. It then went on to a Take Two round of yearly options, giving twenty volumes of '70s music. The initial run lasted up to thirty-seven releases, and the excuses to keep feeding you music from this decade ran lame towards the end, believe you me. According to Lord Discogs, they stretched things even further past the original thirty-seven, because why end a steady revenue stream, eh? Since most of these tunes were coming from the Warner Music Group, they could keep milking it into the new millennium. They didn't, thankfully, but they could have!

So let's dig into the year 1977. Of the twenty songs in this track list, there's no Kraftwerk, no Vangelis, no Tangerine Dream, and no Can. Well, so much for keeping my interest. Fail.

Haha, just kidding. Of course weird, experimental synth music from Europe has no place in a compilation such as this. We're only after the tunes Americans were digging in the year 1977, which includes rock, funk, country, and soul. Maybe a dash of disco too.

There aren't many surprises then, most of the songs the light-weight, easy-going stuff that's impossible to offend on the radio. Fleetwood Mac's Dreams, Steve Miller Band's Fly Like An Eagle, Foreigner's Cold As Ice and Feels Like The First Time, Linda Ronstadt's It's So Easy and Blue Bayou, and Manfred Mann's Earth Band's Blinded By The Light (“revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night”). The filler stuff features artists like Glen Campbell, 10cc, James Taylor, Al Stewart... a lot of songs I've probably heard before, but don't get my blood pumpin', y'know?

Frankly, 1977 is rather milquetoast, save the glorious opening beat of Bee Gee's Stayin' Alive towards the end. Astounding how that rhythm can carry such a punch forty years on.

The Beatles - With The Beatles

Parlaphone: 1963/2009

The only Beatles album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a Beatles fan. It's got the iconic cover photo, after all, one even The B-Sharps ripped off. It's also the 'indie' option of their first two albums, lacking the instantly recognizable hit singles of Please Please Me, like I Saw Her Standing There, Love Me Do, and Lennon's famous throat-wrecking rendition of Twist And Shout. Instead, you get almost-as instantly recognizable hits like All My Loving, I Wanna Be Your Man, and Starr's tub-thump rendition of Please Mister Postman. Okay, they're both chocked full of vintage Beatlemania 'choons', but With The Beatles has the iconic cover and the slightly lesser-known classics, critical factors in building music hipster cred. Plus, it was the last album released before America caught on to their music, butchering their releases into nothing like the UK versions in the process. Basically, you'd be a true O.G. vinyl God if you had With The Beatles in America - or was Canadian. Yeah, my country got With The Beatles months before them yankees had any official music from the Liverpool-Four. Having ties to the Commonwealth was still reaping some benefits.

As always, it's nigh impossible for me to review an album that's been psychoanalyzed to death by music scribes nearly twice as old as I. The Beatles' story is so etched in Western culture that it'll likely last far into the future, when rock music is but a distant memory, but tales of troubadours conquering the globe endure. So it's rather quaint coming back to these early records when they were still mostly a British phenomenon, rockin' the billy, Merseying the beat, and coverin' the cross-Atlantic classics. No Bob Dylan folksy influences found here yet, my friends.

If you're wondering just how these lads managed to sell over a million copies of With The Beatles (a feat previously accomplished once in Britain, via the South Pacific soundtrack - haven't heard it either), it wasn't just their snappy duds and puckish charms. These guys really were good musicians, already finding ways of mixing things up as a record played through. Little Child has harmonica! Till There Was You has bongos! Please Mister Postman has cowbell! I Wanna Be Your Man has Ringo singing! And yes, it's the same song The Rolling Stones did too. Lennon and McCartney wrote the tune, then figured maybe Jagger and his band might have better use of it. Mickey and the Stoners definitely did, but then them Beatles went and did their own version of it anyway, each being released within weeks of the other. What's funny is Lennon figured the tune just a throw-away, because like Hell he'd give the Stones or Ringo the spotlight on a good song.

Even if you're just a fan of the Number-One hits, it's hard denying all the charming melodies and vocal harmonies throughout With The Beatles. These guys had the look, the sound, and the drive for something unprecedented in rock music: global domination.

The White Stripes - The White Stripes

V2: 1999

For as big a band The White Stripes became, they certainly have humble beginnings. I wonder if they'd have even broken out of Detroit obscurity without a couple lucky breaks. For sure Jack and Meg White had a good sound going for them, but this was the late '90s, you see, and theirs was a sound no one in the world of Corporate Rock had interest in. Maybe if one of the elder statesmen of blues classic rock made a throwback garage album, that would get some buzz, but a couple of kids out of the Motor City? Hell, the music press already had a new hero from that area to fawn over, a white rapper who somehow earned Dr. Dre's blessing. Now that's a story!

This duo may never have had much aspiration for their music beyond dominating their local scene, but boy did they go all out in doing so. Jack White was already a seasoned journeyman playing in various bands, but when his recently married wife Meg had a kick at the tin cans, they realized their musical synergy was better than anything else he'd been working on before. Thus they dubbed themselves The White Stripes, with a peppermint candy theme in their presentation, about as retro a rock look as you could hope to get in the '90s. While working the underground rock stages for about a year, indie label heads noticed the duo had “It”, and were offering them record deals. They signed with Cali-based Sympathy For The Record Industry (they of Chemical Dolls, Love Dolls, The Lazy Cowgirls, Mad Daddys, Loudspeaker, Experimental Audio Research, and The Pooh Sticks) for a debut album.

And, well... it's certainly a debut album from The White Stripes. They already had a deliberately simple sound to begin with, and if their so-called magnum opus of Elephant wasn't breaking the mould by much, then a self-titled debut sure as Shirley ain't either. If anything, it can't help but be as basic as blues rock gets, Jack and Meg still in the process of realizing their full potential. It's certainly a good ol' rowdy time throughout, the production as heavy and thick as you could get in the '90s. At sixteen tracks long, most averaging the two-to-three minute range, The White Stripes supplies a nice variety of hard rockers, bluesy downbeaters, and... um, that's about it. Hey, it's not like the songs last long anyway.

Still, as decent a debut as this album is, it didn't get much attention in the rock world – they were more interested in the output of Limp Bizkit and Creed, dont'cha know. However, an influential UK DJ by the name of John Peel (perhaps you've heard of him?) happened upon the album, taking an instant liking to it. Naturally, his word gave The White Stripes an in with the always savvy British market, while The U.S.... had to wait for a Lego video to finally catch on too. Then they couldn't stop praising this album!

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Weld

Reprise Records: 1991

Considering the plethora of live albums Neil Young's Archives series has churned out this past decade, its difficult remembering such things were once rarities. For sure many of his albums would contain live recordings of new material, but a full live set of concert material? It wasn't until Live Rust, a companion piece to the Rust Never Sleeps tour extravaganza, that a true concert recording in conceptual full was made available for sale. Fast forward through most of the '80s that many Rusties demote as a 'lost decade', and we're right back in full rock 'n' roll glory with his Craziest of Horse pals in Ragged Glory, a raucous tour to back it up, and finally his second official live album unleashed from it.

Ol' Shakey didn't set out to prove he could stand toe-to-toe with those new, noisy 'grunge' kids, but Weld sure done does that. Unlike Live Rust, there's not a lick of acoustic music throughout the double-disc feature. Only downtime comes care of a cover of Bob Dylan's folksy ditty Blowin' In The Wind, stretched out here to nearly seven minutes, with huge walls of guitar feedback, wartime sound effects, and lovely Crazy Horse harmonies. I suppose some of Young's slower tunes might count for 'chill' music, like the bluesy Tonight's The Night, and the guitar epic Cortez The Killer, but ain't nothing calm or soothing about Neil's pained howls and cutting lyrics, much less those extended solos.

Oh yeah, you better love yourself some lengthy guitar jamming if you're interested in this live album. Absolutely you get the classics like Like A Hurricane and Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black), but as this tour was in support of Ragged Glory, most of that album's extended songs show up here too. Sweet deal for me, as they're my favourite tunes from that record! The steady burner Love To Burn, the cock-rockin' F*!#in' Up, the unabashed solo-excusing Love And Only Love, the hilariously sloppy Farmer Jon, and my guilty pleasure Mansion On A Hill. Whenever I hear this song, it instantly takes me back to early Shambhala sentiments, the lyrics eerily on point in reflecting my mind-space at the time (probably didn't hurt I was also succumbing to the Rustie Bug too).

Anything else? How about some good ol' rockin' out with over nine minutes of Rockin' In The Free World? Or solid common-clay story-telling with Powerderfinger and Crime In The City? A couple throwback jams with Cinnamon Girl and Roll Another Number (For The Road)? Okay, maybe not that one, but it's a charming tune to end a concert on. Drive safe, y'all.

Weld is pretty much wall-to-wall guitar glory, performed by a bunch of middle-aged men who were inspiring all the youngin's of rock's new '90s world (Sonic Youth opened for them on this tour). And hey, if we didn't get Weld, then Young wouldn't have wrecked his hearing so bad that he was forced to follow it with another classic in Harvest Moon.

Neil Young - Trans (Original TC Review)

Geffen Records: 1982/1997

(2016 Update:
Eighteen-hundred words. That is the count. That is the amount of verbal splooge I spattered out almost a decade ago in my first attempt at writing a Neil Young review. Could it have been helped though? It was during that year's summer wherein I 'got' ol' Shakey's music, diving deep into his discography, unable to sate this craving for more of Young's work... more... MOAR! There was honestly no good reason for me to use a trance music review website as a glorified outlet in proclaiming how much awesome I heard in his music, but I had to tell 'em, Johnny; I had to tell the world. When would I ever get another chance? What, a personal blog where I review everything I own? Hah, 2006 Sykonee laughs at such a silly notion.

So of course a ton of information in this review is hilariously redundant to any consistent reader of mine, and the fanboy gushing does get tedious the deeper you go into this behemoth. Was funny reading my little pseudo-script again though, as lately I find my sentiments drifting closer to Aging Hippie as opposed to self-insert Hip Teenage Son. Time really does slip away the older you get and- oh my God! I just realized I'm currently the same age as Neil Young was when he made this album! I gotta' get me in on some of that Artistic Experimentation vibe, pronto. Maybe a review written completely in binary? Ah, no.)


IN BRIEF: A true oddity.

You can’t keep a good rocker down. No matter how many times it’s appeared Neil Young would sabotage his career, alienate his fans, or simply fade away, he comes roaring back into the spotlight, as relevant as ever, his protest album Living With War released with great controversy earlier this year. With such charming songs titled Let’s Impeach The President, you bet it raised a stir.

Whereas almost all of Young’s musical peers sustain their careers with Baby Boomer nostalgia, Neil has managed to once again draw the attention of us younger folk, regarding him as ‘one of us’ rather than an honored elder; an impressive feat for a sixty year old. And not only by appealing to current Fight The Man mentalities, but also by realizing the potential of the internet as a communication tool, something this technologically savvy generation is quite adept at. In this way, he’s snared numerous new fans who’d normally dismiss him as some old musician, and many have discovered a vast discography containing more diversity than any member of the Woodstock generation. From grungy rockers to folksy crooners and dabblings of much, much more, there’s quite a bit to check out. However, few of Young’s albums are more unique and confused more fans than his electronic one.

Just imagine the following scene in 1982:

Aging Hippie: Well, most of my old favorite bands suck these days, but good ol’ Neil’s managed to remain consistent. I’m sure this new album of his won’t disappoint.

*Throws Trans on the record player*

Aging Hippie: Hmm, this first song’s kind of weak. Never been much of a fan of this new country rock, but still kind of catchy. Maybe the next one will be better.

*Computer Age starts*

Aging Hippie: What the...? What’s with those synths? They’re so bloody loud. And that drum beat’s so repetitive. Ah, well, at least Neil’s got some good guitars and... HEY!! What the fuck’s with his VOICE!!?? What the hell did he do to it??? Is this some kind of JOKE!? ...the hell? This next song’s got it too!! What’s going on here? Hey, son, get in here!

Hip Teenage Son: Yeah, Dad?

Aging Hippie: I’ve heard you listening to stuff like this before. You have any idea what Neil’s doing here?

Hip Teenage Son: THIS is Neil Young!? Haha! You’re joking, right? It sounds like Kraftwerk. This can’t be Young.

Aging Hippie: It’s Neil alright. Do you have any idea what’s going on?

Hip Teenage Son: It sounds like he’s doing New Wave, although really heavy on the vocoders. This stuff’s popular in Europe right now.

Aging Hippie: New Wave? Hell, why’d he go and make an album like this?

Hip Teenage Son: Well, he’s said he’s a fan of Devo, so-

Aging Hippie: God, this sounds like shit. Who’d want to listen to this crap? Hell, rockabilly would be better than this, even twangy country. Why does all music suck now?

Hip Teenage Son: Hey, this stuff’s really cool, y’know. It’s the sound of the future. It’ll probably be super-popular in the 21st Century, with massive concerts and festivals being thrown to play electronic music. People will take wicked drugs that put your 60s stuff to shame, and we’ll use computers to talk to one another and revolutionize the way music is made. You’ll be able to store your huge record collection in the palm of your hand! It’s going to be great!

Aging Hippie: ..........

Aging Hippie: Son, have you been into my acid again?

It’s ironic one of Young’s most despised albums by his old fans has gone on to become something of an intriguing curiosity with his new ones, because let’s face it: even if we all don’t like it, we still get this computer music; our parents mostly don’t.

Unfortunately, because the album flopped in 1982, Trans was deleted from American circulation. You can only find it in Europe now, and not always cheaply due to the growing mysticism surrounding it. Were the songs really as bad as our parents thought? Did Young do Kraftwerk justice? Does it hold up today? With a growing number of electronic music fans curious about Young’s foray into synths and vocoders, now’s as good a time as any to shed some light on the subject.

It helps to understand Young’s mind frame at the time, as he’s always been one to put every ounce of impulsive emotion into his music. As with many rockers of his generation, the 80s were a scary place to be: synthesizers, drum machines, and tech-savvy producers were making regular old bands passé, especially since the general public didn’t mind this tinny new wave of music. But whereas his peers cowered in their safe, traditional corners, Young, ever fearless in his endeavors, tackled synth music head on, gleefully embracing everything it had to offer.

So, yes, Trans is more concept than novelty, and boy does he throw himself into the role of Robo-Rocker. The aforementioned Computer Age bridges the gap between humanity and the digital, with great synths and super-catchy guitar riffs. And through vocoder effects, you can hear Neil’s apprehension of a synthetic future. Interestingly, only with the lyrics “And you need me; Like ugly needs a mirror” does his voice briefly return to normal. He’s accepted this future, and from here on the robots rule most of the album.

A couple of harder rockers follow. We R In Control plays on Orwellian fears, with a great combination of gritty guitar work and aggressive vocoder effects. Less effective is Computer Cowboy, as it isn’t nearly as catchy as the rest, and sounds far too muddy. It is funny though, in that Neil absolutely butchers cliché Spaghetti Western themes with the robotic surroundings; those clippity-clop sound effects are a hoot.

Offering a bit of yin between these two yangs is Transformer Man, a song about Neil’s son who was born with cerebral palsy. As pretty a piece of robo-pop as anything Kraftwerk made, this song also was part of Young’s inspiration to make an electronic album, as he could only communicate with his son through such technology. It’s a very touching song; even if Young’s synthesized voice is at times difficult to understand, the emotion that cuts through the effects is remarkable.

Sample And Hold is Trans’ ‘dance’ single. While no Blue Monday (really, how many songs are?), it’s still a mesmerizing piece of work. For one thing, at eight minutes in length with a relentless steady rhythm, Sample And Hold has a hypnotic quality that sucks you into a choking industrial setting. From sludgy guitars to dispassionate synths to mechanical percussion, this is a cold, unfeeling song, which given the subject matter makes sense. Delivered with frank yet aggressive vocoder tones, the track is about the impersonal service of finding love in an uncaring future (specifically, at an android dating service, if you interpret the lyrics literally). All this and Neil still managed to make an ultra-catchy hook. You’re guaranteed to be humming “I need a unit to sample and hold; New design; New design” long after this plays. Sadly, it bombed in the dance clubs and was quickly forgotten, but I suppose clubbers weren’t quite ready for it; even Gary Numan, who’s work this track bares the most semblance to, struggled in America. Had Sample And Hold been released a year after New Order’s seminal record rather than a year before, things might have been different.

The track can be exhausting on your psyche though, so it’s rather nice to hear a simpler song follow Sample And Hold. Kind of an electro remix of his old tune Mr. Soul, Young seems to be having a bit of tongue-in-cheek fun at those who would criticize Trans. Not only is he ‘butchering’ an old favorite but the lyrics fit the idea as well. Neil’s voice remains normal for this track, with vocoders harmonizing at various points.

That’s the electronic tracks out of the way. Do you want me to review the ‘normal’ songs, then? Do you even care? I guess I should touch on them, but fact is they weren’t really a part of Trans’ concept; story goes they were tracks for another album, but tagged on here to fill it out. It’d make sense to include some regular rockers or ballads to offer a thematic contrast to the robo-rock, but aside from Like An Inca, these tracks are just simple songs about love, and have nothing to do with the theme of Trans. Even Like An Inca, despite being a cautionary tale about the dangers of technology impeding on Mother Nature, is a far-fetched tie-in. Amusingly though, the incredibly weak 80s production on Hold On To Your Love actually works within Trans’ atmosphere, which is probably why it ended up lodged in the middle of all the other tracks.

The big question now is how much I should recommend this album. Despite all the synthy surroundings, Trans still is very much a rock album in spirit. Few people could see past the computer effects just because they were such a novelty in the early 80s. In the here and now though, such sounds are common, and we can enjoy it based on its musical merit rather than the dressing it comes in. Some electronic purists may despise it for the rock overtones, claiming Neil had no business dabbling in sounds he wasn’t known for, but they be fools. Bottom line is Neil created some incredibly catchy pieces of music that holds up in an age they make more sense in. But, and this is important, Trans isn’t by any means a great album, much less a classic. Even with some strong singles, there are weak moments as well, and if you come in only looking for the electronic tracks, the regular ones will be of little interest (even though a couple of them are alright). If you are only curious about it, I’d recommend downloading some of the better tracks to get a feeling for what you’ll expect to hear. Only pick this up at its regular price if your samplings intrigue you further.

Young’s electronic phase was merely a passing experiment, as he never went in this direction again. But, as with so many of his albums, he certainly created a stir with Trans, even if it caused unintended reactions from his fans. At sixty years of age now, it’s safe to say we’ll never see a Trans 2.0, although now that he has a growing fanbase that would actually understand the idea behind such an album, a sequel to this definitely strikes me as a fascinating possibility. And when it comes to Neil Young, you never know how he’ll surprise you next.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2006. © All rights reserved.

Neil Young - Tonight's The Night

Reprise Records: 1975

This is Neil Young dead centre in the ditch; or the middle album of his acclaimed Ditch Trilogy. Though released as the third album of the three, it was recorded between the live Time Fades Away and comedown blues of On The Beach. It also features one of his most ragged collections of tunes ever, perhaps only topped by the impossibly fun-n-sloppy Re-Ac-Ter down the road. This was seen as a revelation for many a critic, a resounding triumph of back-to-basics grubby rock by one of the scene’s veterans, delivered at a time when many rockers had grown fat and content on their earlier commercial successes. Not this Young fellah’ though! He saw that fame, lived that dream, got all that paper, bought that ranch, and got super-depressed over it, beating Roger Waters’ infamous crisis of faith by a few years.

Naturally, none of this was planned on Young’s part. Rather, compounding issues like testy tours, fears of creative stagnation, and dying friends all led to Tonight’s The Night. As the story goes, the double-whammy drug deaths of Crazy Horse leader Danny Whitten and roadie pal Bruce Berry got Neil off the road and seeking some good ol’ camaraderie from his closest musical friends. No, not Crosby, Stills and Nash, the ‘supergroup’ still in a state of mutual ‘frenemy’ flux. Rather, he hooked back up with the remaining Crazy Horse members, plus wonderkid guitarist Nils Lofgren, Harvest’s ace pedal steel guitarist Ben Keith, and producer pal Jack Nitzsche for a session at brother-of-Bruce's ramshackle studio. An all-star line-up of Young’s ‘raw’ repertoire, then!

They basically all got drunk, got stoned, played billiards, and played music late into the night, their recording time an extended wake for their departed comrades. Music quite literally about Bruce Berry the man (Tonight’s The Night), about the pitfalls of the druggie lifestyle (Speakin’ Out, Tired Eyes, Lookout Joe), some lighter moments (Roll Another Number), but generally everything just going to shit (World On A String, Albuquerque, Mellow My Mind). Tunes mostly stick to stoner blues, though with a little rock and country thrown in for good measure.

It’s also very unpolished material, about as ‘live’ sounding as a studio session can get, and hardly of quality label heads figured someone with Young’s fame could conceivably want out on the market. Following the equally unprofessional and commercial letdown that was Time Fades Away, you bet Reprise Records was leery about releasing this album as was. Another contentious tour playing the album in its entirety, well before any singles or records were pressed, only made frustrated fans more irate with Young’s increasingly agitating antics. Tonight’s The Night was thus shelved, perhaps indefinitely, yet another ‘lost classic’ in the annals of rock history.

Then, a couple years later, while going through some demos of new material, Young played the Tonight’s The Night sessions as a point of comparison. He instantly thought, “Hey, this is some raw, real stuff. Let’s go with this instead.” And he done did.

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Strung Out In Heaven

TVT Records: 1998

I’ve hit saturation point of how much alternative music I can handle. What a petty complaint. It’s not like I’m digging into the truly obscure recesses of the indie realms, most names cropping up well-known, respected talent with deserved critical and commercial success. Plus I’ve spent these past two months keeping a toe or two in electronic genres I’m familiar with, all the while exploring the darker regions of a specific sub-genre. Yet here I am, face to ear with another indie rock band I know nothing about, hearing tunes that are all fine and dandy Worhals, but my mind sub-consciously keeps turning it to mush. It’s as though the previous fifty releases I’ve reviewed are a smorgasbord of music, filled with entrees I’m familiar with but several I’ve never actually sampled. And darn it, I’ve paid for the All You Can Eat option, so I’m gonna’ sample everything in this spread. But man, am I ever feeling stuffed finally getting to those last few dishes.

Anyhow, The Brian Jonestown Massacre. This is a band headlined by one Anton Newcombe, the sort of eccentric musician I’m sure many music scribes have described as ‘authentic’ or ‘audacious’, fearing few paths with his sonic adventures. Starting out as a ‘shoegaze’ group, the San Fran band shows no shame in their love of psychedelic rock, and curse their luck getting their start in the ‘90s. No, wait, that's when starry-eyed gazes back to the decade of Dylan, Beatles, Byrds, and Stones kicked in, to say nothing of movie soundtracks revitalizing ‘70s music for a younger generation. This was the perfect time for The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s brand of rock to flourish!

TVT Records certainly thought so, signing the band to a fat, multi-album contract after their underground cred starting bubbling over. The result is Strung Out In Heaven, an album that sounds like an HD remaster of ‘60s folk rock. Apparently band member Matt Hollywood wrote more of the songs in this outing, what with Anton getting too deep in that heroin lifestyle. Silly Anton, you save that drug for the ‘70s throwbacks – ‘60s was all on that acid trip, yo’.

Listening to this album, I feel like it was intended as a soundtrack for an epic Americana indie film, another celluloid attempt at On The Road where the only bad choice the protagonist makes is going home. Seems TVT Records felt the same way, the packaging straight out of some ‘60s pulp cinema, the band members listed on the cover like stars of the film. There’s plenty of dreamy melodies, groovy Hammond organs, folksy strumming, and stoned singing, a total love-letter to times past as envisioned by musicians far removed from the era. Too much of an ode, turns out, Strung Out In Heaven failing to sell anywhere near TVT’s expectations. Realizing the band was a bit too ‘out there’ for the major independent print, Brain Jonestown Massacre mutually split from TVT, and they went back to making weirdo music again.

Various - Now And Then: Music From The Motion Picture

Columbia: 1995

If it wasn’t clear that much of this current backlog was formally owned by a person of the double-X persuasion, this should all but confirm it. Now And Then was a movie fully intended for a female audience, an attempt at Stand By Me for all the mothers and daughters of America. Well, maybe not specifically intended as such by writer I. Marlene King, but it sure was marketed that way. Big mistake that, the movie critically panned for being a rehashed ‘feminist Stand By Me’. Ooh, couldn’t get away with such a derisive critique these days, even if there’s some truth in the matter.

But why shouldn’t there be such a movie? With so few generational, female-led vehicles out there, star Demi Moore felt strongly enough in the project to help fund it herself. If my own mother and sister are anything to go by, it certainly succeeded, Now And Then on constant rotation once the VHS came out. Who cares if the plot was paper thin, the storyline syrupy-sweet, and big-name actresses in Moore, Rosie O’Donnell, Melanie Griffith, and Rita Wilson barely appear - Now And Then was about the memories of times past, growing up in the early ‘70s. A total nostalgia trip for mothers, while bonding with their daughters as they related to the younger cast. And if I’m honest, I didn’t mind putting up with the movie either, what with Thora Birch and Christina Ricci as part of the cast. Don’t deny it, all my ‘90s bros, you did too.

Naturally, the only sort of music that could accompany such a film is the bubblegum pop and chart topping R&B of the era. Rolling Stone magazine and all its spiritual successors may have constantly gone on about the revolution of rock, continuously peddling the narrative of which bands were the Very Important Bands we should honor, respect, and study. All well and good, but it was stuff like The Archies’ Sugar, Sugar that the majority of people were playing on the radio at this time. The scene of the girls riding their bikes singing Tony Orlando’s Knock Three Times? My mum swears her childhood was exactly like that! The Monkees were perfectly willing fill-ins of moptop pop once The Beatles buried themselves in the studio. And hoo, let’s not forget Motown’s complete dominance of this era either: The Jackson 5, Stevie Wonder, Diana Ross, and Freda Payne – all mega-selling names most folks would enjoy over that ‘stoner’ rock the weird boys would listen to. Not that there’s a little room for rock in this soundtrack, Free’s All Right Now and Badfinger’s No Matter What finding their way in as well. It’s pretty safe-sounding stuff though, total AM radio material college students wouldn’t have any use for.

But then, the music for Now And Then wasn’t curated with me in mind. It’s a snapshot of what girls of the early ‘70s were playing, and we can’t fault it for that. Ricci growing into Rosie, however…

The Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour

Capitol Records/Parlaphone: 1967/1987

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Beatles fan. Um… oh geez, how to justify this one? True, it’s got some of the Liverpool Four’s all-time classics in Strawberry Fields Forever, All You Need Is Love, and I Am The Walrus, but that’s never been an essential selling point for all their other albums. If you just wanted the classics, you get the greatest hits packages, or the anthology box sets, or the anniversary collections, or the-

What I mean to say is, buying a Beatles album just for the chart topping singles isn’t necessary when gathered options already exist. One buys Beatles LPs for the full experience, a playback from start to finish as the lads intended. They’d proved an album need not be big tunes with cover filler, where Rubber Soul, Revolver, and especially Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band kept improving upon the LP format. In fact, the Beatles had perfected the idea of a concept album so brilliantly with Sgt. Pepper’s that odds were they could only have gone down from there. Maybe it was best, then, to offer the inevitable slip with the soundtrack of Magical Mystery Tour, a film project that was practically doomed from the start.

A whimsical bus tour across the English countryside might have succeeded with an actual script on hand, but McCartney, inspired by super-hippie Ken Kesey’s similar bus tour across America, hoped to capture the spontaneity of such gleeful weirdness. Compounding the problems was how their wacky shenanigans were filmed in colour, but broadcast on BBC1, which primarily featured shows in black and white. Thus Magical Mystery Tour premiered as a muddy mess in British homes, on Boxing Day no less, when folks probably weren’t interested in drug-fueled Beatles zaniness. The film was such a flop that it never featured in American cinemas (too short), and was basically jettisoned from archives, none of the original negatives saved. It was the first sign that the mighty Beatlesmania machine could have some chinks in its sturdy armor.

The music though. No matter the faults of the film, surely the tunes provided would be of equal measure to their impeccable discography. Can’t deny that bombastic titular opener, a tune carrying on the Sgt. Pepper’s tradition of throwing any and all ideas into a single three-minute explosion of psychedelic rock. The Fool On The Hill goes more folk, Flying is a pure instrumental, Blue Jay Way goes suuuper-deep in the psychedelia (Flange! Reverse tape loops! Eastern bollocks!), Your Mother Should Know is a bouncy bit of ragtime, and I Am The Walrus is Lennon at his experimental nuttiest; but hey, what a catchy chorus!

All this, plus the included great singles that didn’t make it to Sgt. Pepper’s (aforementioned, plus Hello Goodbye, Penny Lane, and Baby You’re A Rich Man) makes Magical Mystery Tour a fascinating listen regardless. The songcraft remains, but boy were they pushing the limits of what a Beatles song could still be.

The White Stripes - Elephant

V2: 2003

The White Stripes are the greatest rock band of the last twenty years, if you were to ask any long-time follower of that scene. Like, I’m talking long-time, since at least the late ‘60s. In one fell swoop, Jack and Meg obliterated any and all developments, nuances, dalliances, diversion, explorations, and permutations of rock music, bringing the scene back to its simple, garage roots. More punk than punk, more blues than grunge; punting the pretentions of prog, nuking the new wave for some old wave. Um, making metal mobsolete? Help me out here, guys and gals.

Mr. & Ms. White weren’t the only musicians making garage rock, but they were the first to connect with that all-important “yoof” demographic, breaking out of obscurity with a flurry of memorable videos on MTV (and almost single-handily making Lego cool again). Soon after, all manner of garage rock bands entered the airwaves. With a quickly crowding scene, however, come increased demands and expectations on the perceived leaders, to prove they deserve their perch upon the podium of classic rock’s saviors. Whether by circumstance or design, Elephant was destined to be The White Stripes’ Statement Album. They were no longer the plucky upstarts out of Detroit, but a force the world of old rock was hanging their hopes on. Plus, y’know, no pressure from signing on a major label, one offering a vinyl roll-out when the format was practically toast. Nope, no pressure at all. Good thing Jack White’s obsessive enough of an artist to get the job done, then.

Yeah, they smashed it out of the park, Elephant earning all the plaudits, praise, and rock awards. And though it couldn’t sustain the garage rock mini-revolution for much longer (folks getting all up in that Coldplay shi’…), the album’s held up greatly, thanks in huge part to the raw, unvarnished quality the Stripes deliberately utilized. The liner notes proudly proclaims no computers were used in the production, with only vintage analogue gear for the recording process and self-imposed time-frame for studio sessions (ten days!). They wanted this sounding as authentic to the garage bands of the mid-‘60s as possible post-millennium, and damn if they didn’t succeed. Fortunately, they also gave the tracks plenty of heft, such that the raw, grainy distortion and thumping drum kits are rich and full, nothing over-compressed and flat; timeless, and all that. Take that, Red Hot Chili Peppers!

Seven Nation Army was the big hit off here, but I’ve been rather blasé about it all these years. Too monotonous throughout, y’see, though definitely kick-ass lyrics. Nah, I prefer these Stripes when they just rock the f’ out (Black Math; Girl, You Have No Faith In Medicine; Hypnotize), or get right-proper blues heavy and sludgy (There’s No Home For You Here; Ball And Biscuit; I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself). And dammit, the acoustic jam with Holly Golightly at the end is just too adorable, in spite of the depressing topic. Country in a nutshell, eh?

Various - Dazed And Confused

Universal Music Group: 1993

Wayne’s World probably got it started, that whole “‘70s music is now cool in the ‘90s” thing, but this soundtrack solidified it. Punk? Grunge? Metal? Rap? Pft, who cares about that when you got all the hits you might have recalled in your infancy, your parents playing it at some point in your youth, but never gave much thought while growing up. Of course, anyone tuning into a classic rock station would have heard all these songs in a given evening, but the kids ain’t doin’ that, nosiree. They’ll only listen and appreciate the rock hits of the ‘70s if bundled in a package that appeals to them and their sensibilities. One that relates to the difficulties of high school, being young and directionless, believing these times as they are will last forever. Where getting drunk, stoned and laid on the weekend is the goal of any fun, memorable night out. So sayeth the Dazed And Confused crew.

Contrary to belief, I don’t want to be contrarian. I enjoy following the herd if it’s a herd worth following. This movie though, I just don’t get the big appeal. I understand Richard Linklater’s message just fine, such as it is, and latter-aged Boomers undoubtedly get a rush of nostalgia endorphins when watching this. Plus movie geeks adore the movie’s cast for the plethora of “before they were famous stars” littered throughout. At the same time though, I watch Dazed And Confused, and I feel like I’m watching a typical Friday night back in my high-school days. Granted, my hinterland residence didn’t afford much activity for youth beyond attempts at getting stoned, drunk, and laid. Drinking down by the oceanfront before the cops scattered you to the woods was fun for a time, but not after discovering these truly wild and bizarre parties called ‘raves’ happening in Europe. If movies are about escapism, why should I be invested in one that cuts too close to my reality? What do I know though, I think Groove is kinda’ cute.

So the music. Dazed And Confused features a bunch of big hits of the mid-‘70s, a fun but totally unadventurous collection of rock tunes. That’s not really a dig though, as this is almost certainly what the characters of the movie would play on their vinyl spinners and 8-track rewinders. Heh, makes me wonder what I might have been listening to if I lived as a teenager back then. Would I have discovered Tangerine Dream or Kraftwerk? Might prog rock been my one true calling? Would my Neil Young fondness have gotten a quicker start?

Linklater says he chose 1976 as his movie’s setting specifically for the last days of when rock music truly rocked. Before the disco behemoth took over the airwaves. Before everything got bad. Yeah, whatever, that’s what people always say about the music they first got laid to. Given how popular this soundtrack was for my generation though, the legacy of Kiss, Rick Derringer and Nazareth carries on.

ACE TRACKS: April 2016

How we handlin’ all these diversions, then? Not too painful I hope, getting some fresh perspectives and insights into artists and genres so seldom touched upon here. And hey, it helps with diversification, broadening the blog’s appeal beyond the familiar, perhaps even luring in a few new, unexpected eyes in the process. That’s a good thing, right? Judging by the numbers, reviewing other people’s former collections has paid off. Who knew folks would be more interested in Bob Dylan records than Yet Another Psy Dub CD? Still, this backtrack’s got some distance to go, only just wrapping up the ‘C’s. Those ‘Tr’s are far away yet, friends, so very very far away. Patience, my lovelies. Here, have some ACE TRACKS from this past month of April!



Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Claude Young - Celestial Bodies
Various - Time Warp Compilation 07: Loco Dice
B.G. The Prince Of Rap - The Time Is Now

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 11%
Percentage of Rock: 32%
Most “WTF?” Track: Probably something from Alphaxone. Take your pick of mind-peeling creepiness digging its tendrils through your ear membranes.

This has to be the most diverse playlist I’ve put together yet. Well, not including The Ultimate Master List. Even doing a lazy alphabetical arrangement generated quite a few interesting contrasts throughout. Possibly the smallest percentage of electronic music too, in lieu of all that rock and folk material. And when I do get to the digital realms, it’s almost always ambient music. Even the techno guys (Claude Young) or ‘future garage’ guys (Synkro) go ambient here. Can’t say things are gonna’ be much different in the coming month either.

Bob Dylan - Bringing It All Back Home

Columbia: 1965/2003

A much better introduction to Bob Dylan long-players. Hell, it just might be among his most iconic albums for a number of reasons. For one, there’s the big hullabaloo over his ventures into the realms of electric music. Hey, that means Bringing It All Back Home is actually relevant to this blog! Nah, not really, the ‘going electric’ part merely his embrace of rock music after an early career as a traditional acoustic folkie. This was seen as a Very Big Deal though, like a betrayal of sorts; musicians just didn’t cross genre and scene boundaries, yo’. You started as an acoustic folk singer, you stayed in your lane. You started as a country crooner, damn straight you weren’t offering those pipes to Motown soul. A rock band was a rock band, though maybe you might get in on that blues action too.

Point being Bobby Dylian proved one wasn’t so chained to their genre as record labels so often claimed. The Beatles could make more than simple ‘love me do’ jangles. Brian Wilson could pen tunes about things other than surfing. And most importantly, you could even meld genres together! Rock music was traditionally lyrically simple stuff, catchy little numbers intended for dancefloors and malt shops, with no time for anecdotes and storytelling. Dylan said nuts to that, retaining his wordsmith abilities without sacrificing the energetic rockabilly jaunts.

And while Subterranean Homesick Blues, Maggie’s Farm, Outlaw Blues, On The Road Again, and Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream enthusiastically rock with the best of that era’s tunes, Mr. Zimmerman doesn’t just dwell on a single genre either. There’s a touch of the country in She Belongs To Me and Love Minus Zero, plus a flurry of folk songs to finish the album out. These include some of his most endearing pieces like Mr. Tambourine Man, famously covered by The Byrds that same year, and maybe-sorta’ about LSD (and if so, a much better allegory than the ham-fisted weed puns of Rainy Day Women #12 & 35). Somber Gates Of Eden is also here, foretelling the inevitable hippie burnout of the ‘70s before there was even much of a hippie movement to begin with. And if you ever need a more perfect example of Dylan’s seemingly stream-of-conscious lyricism, have a gander at It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding).

I bitched some about Dylan’s singing on Blonde On Blonde, but he sounds perfectly fine here. It’s like the brisk rock tempos prevent him from oohver enuunsiating. 115th Dream hilariously starts with an aborted recording session, lending the whole album a playful vibe, and that ol’ Bob isn't always so serious about himself. Finally, Subterranean Homesick Blues is probably most famous for offering the closest thing to the first music video. True, the scene of Dylan holding up cue cards in an alleyway as the song plays was taken from a tour documentary, but it’s been so smoothly extracted from the film, it may as well be a music video made for MTV. Dudes!

The Velvet Underground - The Best Of The Velvet Underground (Words And Music Of Lou Reed)

Verve Records: 1989

Nearly everything you may adore or abhor about the alternative and indie side of rock music can be traced to this band. Making music that bucks the prevailing trends? Velvet Underground. Cultivating an impossibly hip image? Velvet Underground. An essential name-dropped when discussing one’s influences? Velvet Underground. Pretentious rock band fan-cult origins, that’s existed ever since rock music’s existed? I dunno, maybe Grateful Dead, but hoo boy, does Velvet Underground ever have their doozies too. Tab Lou Reed’s original band as anything less than “revolutionary”, and you’ll be met with scorn only seen in Tool’s ranks, with essays and essays of just how wrong your opinion is. Not that you’d understand them of course, the VU simply much too forward-thinking for mere Beatles or Stooges fans to comprehend, even a half-decade now since debuting with that kinda’-sorta’-maybe mediocre singing model Nico. But that was the Point, see, that underneath her natural beauty was a flawed, beautiful artistic creature, and Andy Warhol was a genius for forcing her upon Lou Reed to expose these blemishes within…

Wow, see what I mean?

The thing is, compared to other seminal bands of the ‘60s, Velvet Underground don’t even have that large a fanbase. Their albums barely charted (even when they did), and it took Lou Reed’s 2013 death to give their debut with Nico a respectable bump up their all-time standing (though the 2003 Deluxe version did pretty good in the UK). Even this particular Best Of collection, released in 1989, when the indie scene was on the rise and even sporting a little cross-over action, failed to chart. Yeah, but this is still the indie scene we’re dealing with, consisting of a passionate but disproportionate fanbase compared to the radio consuming plebs of the world.

And the VU indoctrinated wouldn’t have it any other way. This band became the sleeper sensation they did because of how far under the radar they initially flew. They hailed from New York City, when all the action in the rock world was happening in California and the UK. They made noisy dirges for a burnout generation years before the comedown had begun in earnest. Their music took recognizable signifiers of blues rock, psychedelia, and folk, but never fully embraced them to be pigeon-holed into those scenes. At a time when studio albums with the latest in production trickery were becoming the norm, these guys were rough and hideously unpolished, almost sounding like a literal garage band with decent talent but no budget. Others were making allegories to acid and marijuana, Reed bluntly sung about heroin. Yeah, small wonder so many point to Velvet Underground as a proto-punk band, a group proving you could make a name for yourself despite little being in your favor.

So yes, listening to The Best Of Velvet Underground, I do get why they’ve earned the legend, the mythos, and the storied inspiration for so many others. Just, y’know, don’t be a twat when going on about them, ‘kay?

Various - Almost Famous

DreamWorks Records: 2000

I didn’t care much for the movie Almost Famous. Shock, I know. How could a supposed amateur music critic like I not admire, adore, and even empathize with the story of a young rock journalist’s journey of self-discovery while on a road-trip assignment? Eh, I just don’t, not in the slightest. Though I cannot deny some allure in getting all those sweet backstage passes and being paid to hear live music, I’ve never had any aspirations for music journalism as a career. The whole profession reeks of brown-nosing hustle just to get by, to say nothing of how internet reporting has all but diminished any potential scribe’s worth to publishers. I write these little blurbs about CDs I own not for fame or fortune, but for… hmm, come to think of it, why am I even doing this? Isn’t insanity defined by doing repetitive things for no discernable benefit? Perhaps so, but this niggling OCD’s gotta’ sort itself somehow.

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter what my music blogging aspirations are, for it’s not like Almost Famous has anything to do with that. It’s an inciting incident to get director Cameron Crowe’s autobiographical stand-in, fifteen year old William Miller, on the road with Allman Brothers Band stand-in, Stillwater. The teenager bears witness to things happening during the early ‘70s rock star livin’, like singing, partying, bickering, sexing groupies in denial, and maybe a little clairvoyance along the way. Right, an impending plane crash does help to clear the air with everyone involved, but by the end of the movie, it seems no one’s really learned much from this whole tour. The band, on the verge of stardom, don’t seem destined for much beyond their ‘almost famous’ status regardless. Aside from Kate Hudson (because Character Arc), the groupies still cling to the band with the blinkered optimism being around potentially famous rock stars affords them. And lil’ William learns that, though the rock star lifestyle ain’t all what it’s cracked up to be, it’s still a vital, healing part of so many folks’ souls to outright dismiss it as horrible ‘Satan music’. Wait, maybe I’m thinking the movie Groove here.

Almost Famous is ultimately a movie with super-thick nostalgia shades for a specific era of rock music. It touches on a few of the less-favorable aspects, but not to such a degree that it’ll have Boomers questioning their love for that time. Appropriately, the music on the soundtrack features all the folky and rocker sorts that defined the ‘70s college radio waves. The Who, Simon & Garfunkel, Rod Stewart, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Led Zep’, Cat Stevens all make appearances, with surprising turns from Yes, Beach Boys, Elton John, and David Bowie. It’s a good collection of songs, mostly eschewing obvious hits for tunes that fit the sort of tone Crowe was filming: laidback and carefree as the wind blows, trying to ignore that nagging uncertainty of what all this means in the end, of what the future holds. Punk, mang, the answer is punk.

The Police - Synchronicity

A&M Records: 1983/2003

“Hey, The Police, you’ve just release your most popular album ever! You’ve redefined the new wave rock movement yet again, and are adored by millions of people across several continents! What are you gonna’ do next?”

“We’re breaking up, because we can’t stand recording with each other anymore.”

Aww, yeah, they went out Beatles style, and in a funny way, Synchronicity is a little similar to Abbey Road too. Side one of both albums has something of a slapdash approach with individual offerings from the band members, whereas the second half plays like a mini-album concept from one member. Er, that’s all I got on the comparison.

But yes, Synchronicity is where The Police became house-hold names and radio staples on every pop station. Everyone knows the ode to obsessive, stalker-ish love, Every Breath You Take. Even if you somehow missed it back when, you definitely heard it after Puff Daddy nicked Andy Summers' plucky guitar hook for the Biggie tribute I'll Be Missing You. Meanwhile, the spiteful Wrapped Around Your Finger (that tempo change!) and moody King Of Pain (it’s like a continuation of Ghost In The Machine!) were not quite as ubiquitous as Every Breath You Take, but are no less recognizable the moment they come within earshot. And though the title track (and fourth single) is way '80s new wave with all the synthesizers and guitar effects at play, it remains a permanent fixture on many retro rock playlists. Not bad for a band that had to scrap its way through the British rock scene a mere seven years prior, and could only manage one instantly identifiable hit per album (Roxanne, Message In A Bottle, Don’t Stand So Close To Me, Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic).

So the singles were huge, getting everyone to rush out and grab what was sure to be a great album. I can only imagine their shock, then, upon hearing that infamous side one of Synchronicity. The titular opener is peppy enough, though not as memorable as Synchronicity II on side two. Walking In Your Footsteps has some neat electronic drum programming, a tribal rhythm that’s clearly inspired by what Peter Gabriel was up to. Next is O My God, a requisite Police new wave jam that’d often serve as filler in other albums, and a weird choice for a third track. And then Mother hits, the wacked-out Andy Summers contribution that sounds like… Arabic prog-rock paranoia? I haven’t a clue, and no one else has either. At least his other song, bluesy Murder By Numbers, has a clever message within its macabre lyrics. Oh, and Stewart Copeland, in an attempt to get back to their punk roots, provides the short, incidental Miss Gradenko. When you compare these tracks to the astounding songs Sting was writing though, it’s no wonder ol’ Gordon felt the need to go solo. Oh, if only folks could have known what was to come from that career. Wait, they did, it’s called Tea In The Sahara.

ACE TRACKS: November 2015

Well, that was a fun little trip through music seldom covered here. It was fun, wasn’t it? Well, whatever the case, you are rest assured I won’t be doing something like that again, at least as my music collection currently stands. Oh, there will definitely still be the odd quirky, week-long venture into the unexpected, but nothing that entails so much country and rock ‘best of’ CDs. Who even buys such things anymore? It’s all about the online stream, mass torrent dump, or collector’s box sets these days. Anyhow, since I’ve done a technical alphabetical backtrack in my reviewing queue, I’ll be going through another little string of releases before resuming my endless sojourn through ‘S’. Nothing much, just a few DJ-Kicks mixes I picked up on the cheap. The rest of my backlog will have to wait for after revisiting System 7’s debut, which should come around before the year’s out. I hope.

Until then, here’s the ACE TRACKS I’ve enjoyed this past November.



Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
David Bickley - Still Rivers At Night
Purl - Stillpoint
Jesper Dahlbäck - Stockholm Mix Sessions & 2

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock (and country): 23%
Most “WTF?” Track: Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show - Freakin’ At The Freaker’s Ball (should be an anthem at every fet-life event)

Reviewing so much different non-electronic music probably doesn’t do any favors for a blog called Electronic Music Critic. On the other hand, it does make putting these playlists together more fun, finding out what unexpected music makes for remarkable bedfellows. Why obviously moody drone ambient must follow (Don’t Fear) The Reaper!

A shame some of the more obscure ambient didn’t make the Spotify cut, but there’s a decent enough assortment of tunes throughout this to keep one engaged, plus a big ol' chunk of ambient at the end. You can’t beat a combination of Faithless, M.I.K.E., Sub Focus, and Loverboy for your instant earworm love. And hey, a little dub techno thrown in don’t hurt either, eh?

Loverboy - Collections

Columbia/Sony Music Entertainment: 1997/2004

I've gone on and on about how much I canned The Police and Boney M as a toddler, but a third act got significant play too: Loverboy. Okay, it was in fact just one song, Turn Me Loose, which I had to operate my father's reel-to-reel rig to hear. My memory's hazy on the exact age (at least pre-school), but I gotta' hand it to my younger self for figuring out that contraption, just to hear those early synths, catchy chorus, and thumping tom drums. And the way it builds, mang, layers of guitars and synths and drums, with key changes for solos, it all blew my young mind. At five thirty-eight in length, Turn Me Loose may as well have been a prog rock epic, and boy did I ever take every chance to play it again, when I wasn't distracted by toys and picture books and TV and backyard bush forts. Ah, the hectic life of the four year old.

That’s just one perspective though. For many, Loverboy came to represent ‘80s rock at its best without crossing that terrible line of banal corporate radio cheese. They were shameless in giving us arena anthems, and though they rocked the hot coloured leather pants, they never went full hair metal either. They’ve been immortalized on Saturday Night Live, their other huge hit Working For The Weekend featured in the classic Swayze-Farley ‘Chippendales’ skit. Yeah, that’s now two bands I’ve covered in this Collections series that have been featured on SNL. Just a coincidence, I’m su- wait, Lord Discogs is telling me something. Oh my God, there’s a radio vinyl with both Loverboy and Blue Öyster Cult concert material on it! This is too weird. It must be Columbia promotions doing this. The defunct label’s getting back at me for never taking them upon their penny deals!

Whereas Johnny Cash had too large a discography for Collections to do him justice, and Dr. Hook had too few albums available due to label politics, Loverboy’s reign is just about perfect for the ten track limit. Almost all of their singles from the ‘80s make the cut, only missing out on early tune The Kid Is Hot Tonite (at the time way overshadowed by Turn Me Loose and Working For The Weekend), Jump (there’s only one worthy Jump from the early ‘80s), and Lovin’ Every Minute Of It (wait, what?).

If you’re not familiar with the rest of Loverboy’s singles, here’s the obligatory run-down: When It’s Over is a pseudo follow-up to Turn Me Loose. Take me To The Top has some chunky synth work. Hot Girls In Love is typical ‘80s cock rock. Lucky Ones needs a Rocky montage but not as much as Queen Of The Broken Hearts and Strike Zone, while Dangerous and ballad This Could Be The Night has the hallmarks of a rock band succumbing to hair metal tropes.

But hey, Loverboy helped usher in the synth-heavy rock anthem era of that decade. They were the ‘80s!

Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show - Collections

Sony Music Entertainment: 2001/2004

Making a greatest hits package for the southern rock act Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show was a no-brainer, the '70s replete with their memorable tunes. Whether early oddball jams or latter radio-ready fodder, any label would have plenty to choose from. Except Sony, who only had access Hooky's first three albums on Columbia. After switching over to Capitol – and dropping “The Medicine Show” for legal purposes – Dr. Hook saw much greater success, even if their quirkiness was sanded off in the process. This puts Collections into something of a conundrum, getting hands on the group's break-out hit and most memorable hit but denied the bulk of actual charting singles. The only recourse is filling the majority of this 'super hits' CD with songs that really aren't hits at all. Maybe it'll at least give a decent overview of Dr. Hook's beginnings then.

Before getting into those beginnings though, we must talk pre-beginnings, specifically the most famous face of Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show, and what’s up with his look (yes, the guy on the cover). The man was born Ray Sawyer, and had bounced around music gigs before growing dissatisfied with the whole thing. Deciding to do the right thing – the proper societal thing – he set out to Oregon to find his way in the wide world of logging. One car crash later, he lost his eye, and concluded the rock Gods wanted him back in the music world. And that’s why we always think of Dr. Hook as that guy with the eye-patch, massive side-burns and country hat, even though George Cummings was the main architect of the group, with Sawyer a contributing guitarist and vocalist. Ol’ Ray was never the actual Dr. Hook, though the band’s name was inspired by the eyepatch he wore, thoughts of pirates and connecting Captain Hook to the image. Yeah, that doesn’t make sense, but then drugs, y’know?

Of course, the other reason everyone thinks of Sawyer as Dr. Hook is he does vocals on their most famous hit, Cover Of The “Rolling Stone”. It tells the tale of finding all the fame and fortune of being a superstar rock band, but still suffering the indignity of never making the cover of the respectable magazine. Before that came out though, there was Sylvia’s Mother, a southern rock ballad that’s more representative of the music most associate with Dr. Hook. I doubt it’s been covered by as many burgeoning bands as Cover Of The “Rolling Stone” has.

As for specifics, four songs come from their first album (Sylvia’s Mother, honky-tonk Makin’ It Natural, pervy I Call That True Love, tender Kiss It Away), four from their second (fetish love-in Freaker’s Ball, country-blues Carry Me, Carrie, ultra-Nashville If I’d Only Come And Gone, plus ”Rolling Stone”), and two from the third (bar sing-along Life Ain’t Easy, generic ballad You Ain’t Got the Right). Yeah, these guys can run the gamut of topics and styles. Sweet harmonies too.

Blue Öyster Cult - Collections

Columbia/Sony Music Entertainment: 1998/2004

Blue Öyster Cult is a famous hard rock band from the ‘70s, and a very important group in the popularization of cowbell. No, wait, that was a Saturday Night Live skit with Christopher Walken and Will Ferrell, playing up the fact BÖC’s best known song has an incredibly distracting cowbell in it. Seriously, have you ever heard (Don’t Fear) The Reaper? What am I saying; of course you have, especially on your Classic Rock station, where you can hear all the songs from your dad’s (grandpa’s?) youth. It’s not like these blue cultists cultivated the cowbell, most of their songs almost devoid of it (at least what’s on this Collections CD anyway). For such a smooth slice of stoner rock though, hearing that *clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk* in the percussion is obtrusive, jarring, and perfectly ripe for comedic send-ups. It’s just a shame a whole generation now only thinks of Blue Öyster Cult as that cowbell band. Don’t folks know they’re actually that Godzilla band?

Seriously though, BÖC’s story reads about as cliché as most rock bands of the era goes. Started out doing psychedelic rock, got a bit darker and heavier when Black Sabbath became a thing, scored a major radio hit (The Reaper, yo'), and started chasing them dolla' bills after such success. Naturally, it alienated their long-standing fanbase, and they were quickly abandoned by all but the most dedicated of followers. Even a return to form in the '80s couldn't turn their fortunes, and soon the band was relegated to the has-been bargain bin of your record shops, an occasional glimpse of recognition afforded them when getting in on a '90s stoner soundtrack. Hey, I told you this was a standard story.

Fortunately for Collections, we’re mostly dealing with their early-to-mid ‘70s material, only two songs making the cut from the ‘80s. Of the latter decade selections, Burnin’ For You is probably the only other Blue Öyster Cult hit you’ve heard of, even if you didn’t realize it was a Blue Öyster Cult hit. Elsewhere Black Blade sounds like a stab at Who or Queen on the operatic bent, but they work in bloopy synths and an actual vocoder (!) for an energetic climax, so it’s awesome.

As for the rest, there’s Rolling Stones boogie rock (This Ain’t The Summer Love), chipper proto-punk rock (The Red And The Black), weird classic bar rock (O.D.’d On Life Itself), and lengthy freak-out psychedelic rock (7 Screaming Diz-Busters) – these all came from their second album, Tyranny And Mutation. Damn, guess that’s the Blue Öyster Cult album you’re supposed to have, even if it doesn’t have (Don’t Fear) The Reaper on it. There’s also Flaming Telepaths from Secret Treaties, which fears no piano, chorus, guitar solo, or dated synth too overblown or garish, but a lot more fun than pompous prog rockers go. What’s with the hard cut though? Did the original smash into Astronomy, or does the single intentionally leave you hanging like that? C’mon, BÖC, who’s the joke on? I gotta’ know!