Sykonee's 'Sportsing' Surveys: AC/DC

This past winter was rough, including me falling out of my regular work-out routines far too, um, routinely. There were plenty of reasons contributing to this, but I cannot deny my musical choice for surveying purposes weren't always the best options either. The jazzy funk 'n soul stylings of The Roots was only good in spurts, and N:L:E's Caravan Of Healing Sounds... well, that was more a marraige of convinience. No, I needed real motivation. Not just any ol' firing of the adrenaline, but a serious shot in the arm of hype music, a tried and tested discography that has endured for decades. Yeah, this little Australian rock band, they'll do.

I know the hits will hit, and I have to assume their larger body of work will too. I mean, the longest running rib in rock music has been that every AC/DC album sounds the same. Do they, though? Do they really? I mean, they've been releasing music for damn near forty years, there had to be some stylistic variaton in all that time. Maybe a bandwagon jump here, or an unfortunate studio session there. And hey, if not, at least I could count on them keeping me moving while engaging in my 'sportsing' activities, right? Right, so let's get it on!
















And boy, did Mr. Prindle ever catch some flack for his thoughts on Ballbreaker. I've... a feeling I won't be getting such bile thrown my way, especially since hardcore AC/DC fans can't deny the band's music after that one is much better. No, really, it totally is!

As for my impressions of AC/DC, can't say much has changed. I went in expecting a certain sound, and they've maintained that right up to 2020 (ol' Angus looking a bit funky still wearing the school-boy uniform while now sporting white hair, it must be said). I'm honestly more suprised they didn't hop on any bandwagons, but that's probably for the best. I can't imagine AC/DC with a rapper or synths or fancy studio trickery. They are who they are, and made no few compromises for that. And hey, I got in some of my best 'sportsing' sessions while going through their catalogue, so that's a plus!

Don't know how my next survey will pan out though, going with a duo I only know from a namedrop. At least they're an electronic act?

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!

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.

Stone Temple Pilots - Core

Atlantic: 1992

Of course a teenager would have a grunge album in their collection if they were a teenager in the early '90s. Wait, I never did, firmly planting my flag with 'techno' and making little concessions for other musics thereafter. I did have a single mixtape with some Nirvana on it, but that was about as obligated to the grunge scene as I ever got. Still, I have to give the former owner of these CDs credit, collecting mostly obscure grunge. No Pearl Jam, no Nirvana, no Alice In Chains, no Hole, no Smashing Pumpkins, and no Mudhoney; there is a Bush album with the lot I got though. Hey, Teenage Ishkur, why didn't you have most of the recognizable grunge bands with your CDs?

Teenage Ishkur: My older brother has them.

Oh. Well that makes sense.

Stone Temple Pilots may also be an obvious inclusion, but only if you have Purple. Carried by two of their most successful hits in Vaseline and Interstate Love Song, not to mention an iconic cover I’m sure Billy Corgan took notes on, the band’s sophomore effort has gone down as the only album by Stone Temple Pilots you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a fan of Stone Temple Pilots. Can’t say I was much of a fan myself, always mistaking Vaseline as a song by some other grunge act. By the time I did properly notice them, it was during the promotion of their third album, Tiny Music... Songs From The Vatican Gift Shop, specifically the Big Bang Baby video. With its cheesy So-Cal style, it was all kinds of silly, which I understand was the point, but 1996 Sykonee sure didn’t know that. Stone Temple Pilots thus remained with the rest of grunge on my ‘Don’t Give A Shit About’ list.

As with many things lately, I’ve reconsidered that foolhardy teenaged assumption. Their debut album, Core, is far more kick-ass than I thought it would be, and I see why this band was held in the same breath as Pearl Jam and Nirvana. Hell, with Scott Weiland really getting his Eddie Vedder on, they even sound like Pearl Jam, albeit with far heavier guitars front and centre. It’s like what Metallica might have sounded like if they’d emerged from grunge instead of thrash, a ridiculous comparison, true, but one that my limited exposure to this music made nonetheless.

When Core came out, Stone Temple Pilots were derided as bandwagon jumpers by the regular rock press, a not unfair judgement considering their early work as Mighty Joe Young was more eclectic. That said, this debut is also a competently written and strongly executed album from a group that had earned their stripes in the trenches. For that fact, Core has endured as a minor classic of the early ‘90s hard rock scene. Purple may be more essential to the casual, but if you’re gathering up grunge for your music collection, Core definitely deserves a spot on your shelves too.

Beastie Boys - Licensed To Ill

Def Jam Recordings: 1986/1996

A landmark album of sorts, it proved you could trick white frat boys into liking that ‘black’ ‘rap’ ‘music’, provided it was bundled with as cliché a cock-rock anthem as you could make in the ‘80s. I think that was the point, Fight For Your Right an intentional parody of said culture, but of course the meat-headed jocks of the world wouldn’t get it. In fact, ask the Beastie Boys about their inspiration in creating Licensed To Ill, and they'll claim the whole album is one big joke. It's certainly goofy, I'll give it that, but for a collection of bratty hip-hop fronted by three white teenagers, it's held up remarkably well.

Does it have the stunning production later Beastie LPs hold? No, the technology just wasn't there in the mid-'80s, much less for a start-up label being run by some former punk guy who'd seemingly lucked out in signing future stars like LL Cool J and... okay, so only LL and the Beasties were the rising stars in Def Jam's early years; Slayer, too. Point is the bearded one Rubin didn't have much to work with other than bare-bones 808 rhythms, oodles of rock records to pilfer hooks and samples for, and a knack for a hook that complemented the Beastie Boys' back-and-forth raps. Already a successful formula for Run DMC, Licensed To Ill took the 'rock-n-hop' template to commercial heights never before seen, almost exclusively thanks to having a hit single that had nothing to do with hip-hop. Fortunately, The New Style, She’s Crafty, Rhymin & Stealin, and No Sleep Till Brooklyn prove it was a formula that could be milked more than once.

Even then, ol’ Rick and the Boys throw in a few clever tracks so Mr. 808 doesn’t get tiresome. Posse In Effect has a fun electro-snare splash going on, Paul Revere craftily loops its drum breaks in reverse, honking horns form the hook in Brass Monkey (that funky monkey junkie!), and pitched-up marching bells get lodged in your noggin’ after hearing Girls. Good stuff, given the limited sonics on display, and that’s not even getting into all the turntable scratches and cut-up samples throughout the album (most prominent though, in Time To Get Ill).

Then there’s the Boys themselves, showing mad skills on the mics- well, no, not really. We’re a long ways away from any sort of lyrical genius on Licensed To Ill, most songs consisting of shouting, call-and-response, and punk ‘singing’. Hey, it’s what MCA, Mike D, and King Ad-Rock had a prior background in, Rubin convincing them to also adopt raps into their arsenal. Though their punch lines are often witty (I always get a kick out of Ad-Rock’s lyrics in Girls), it’s still juvenile humour, a long ways away from the maturity found in their following albums.

For that reason, I can’t take Licensed To Ill seriously, but then neither did the Beastie Boys. Perhaps that’s how it’s never lost its charm, no matter how old I’ve grown.

The Tea Party - The Edges Of Twilight

EMI Music Canada: 1995

Also known as that band that sounds like The Doors. What kind of silly comparison is that? Never have I heard a Ray Manzarek keyboard solo anywhere on a Tea Party song. And what’s that in the low frequencies? Why, an actual bass tone! The Doors don’t got no bass tone. Eh, what about their singer Jeff Martin? Well, okay, I guess he sounds like Jim Morrison - heck, he even looks like him too - but The Doors were more than just their wacky frontman, right. Right!?

Never mind. We’re focusing on The Tea Party here, one of many, many, many former Great Canadian Hopes. Part of the fun living in this country is, anytime a major label notices a potentially bankable band emerge, they’ll push the ever-loving hell out of them. Towards the late 90s, The Tea Party was yet another in such a long list of bands to receive that push, their first major exposure coming with the 1997 album Transmission. Prior to that, however, they were simply known as a good indie band that sounded quite different from the sort of rock you’d typically hear on the radio or TV. Oh, and they kind of sounded like The Doors too.

Actually, that comparison’s more apt when it comes to The Edges Of Twilight, as there’s a heavy Middle-Eastern influence running through the album, and thus the sort of ethnic fusion that was mighty popular in psychedelic circles of the '60s. Aside from Correspondence and Turn The Lamp Down Low, which lean more towards regular blues-rock, you have an abundance of un-Western cultural instrumentation and song craft (I’m stretching MS Word’s thesaurus, aren’t I?) mixing with standard hard rock galvanizing (yep). So basically, all that mystical mumbo-jumbo Morrison espoused, except now with a touch of Robert Plant pretention too. But hey, all three of the band members went out of their way to learn those oddball Indian instruments, and everything comes through sounding quite excellent in that mid-90s sort of way. It may sound derivative to seasoned rock fans, but the world music attributes tickle my ears the same way the best from the world beat camps often do.

The funny thing, though, is after Fire In The Head and The Bazaar (the first two songs), I can never remember how this album goes. Granted, it’s not like I have it high on my rotation; truthfully, I can’t recall when or how I picked it up, only that it was recent. I know I liked the first couple songs whenever a friend of mine would throw the album on though, but that was when it was new. I guess this would make The Edges Of Twilight an impulsive buy based around teenage nostalgia? Dear lord, I’m not that close to midlife, am I?

Anyhow, The Tea Party didn’t make much noise beyond my native country (and Australia, apparently), after which they’ve disbanded in ’05. They recently did a reunion tour though, so let’s see The Doors do that!