Willie Nelson - Collections

Columbia/Sony Music Entertainment: 1994/2004

This, above all else, is about as country as I'll ever get. Yeah, there's that Johnny Cash CD, but he always flirted with rock and blues too (why, he even, Walked The- *slap*). There's Neil Young too, but his country dalliances are incidental to his larger body of work, hardly representative of the music as a whole. Willie Nelson though, there's no escaping his roots, the guy about as country as country could cu-

I suppose if there's any particular style of the Western scene I can get behind, it's the “Outlaw Country” side of things. Along with Johnny and Willie, this also included Waylon Jennings and Kris Kristofferson – a supergroup dubbing them The Highwaymen – offering a rebellious slant to the staunch traditionalism of Nashville. Other ‘outlaw’ sorts included Jessi Colter, Tompall Glaser, and Hank Williams, Jr., and it gave country a much needed kick in the cajoles after so many years of the same ol’ twang. They cultivated an image of being out on the open road, away from the homestead, exploring the great untamed lands of America while longing for their one true love wherever she may be. Also, a lot of reckless substance consumption. That's probably why I decided I should get Willie Nelson's Collections, his lax stance on marijuana use an easy sell for a Sykonee who was still a little chronic in his life. Okay, and he has a sweet, soothing croon to go with his music, a kindly old uncle vibe that you look forward to seeing out on a ranch somewhere in Arizona.

Collections mostly covers Willie’s career from the mid-‘70s through the ‘80s, about when he adopted the grizzled, bearded hippie look we associate with him now. What, you thought he was like that right from the get-go? Hell no, mang, just take a gander at his album covers from the ‘60s. Guy looked about as preppy a country singer could back in those days, which I can’t help but wonder whether it was forced upon him by RCA. It might have explained that early ‘retirement’ as the ‘70s took hold. In any case, after a brief stint with Atlantic Records, he joined up with Columbia, completing this transformation to the outlaw crooner of yore and a’fore.

The music on Collections is vintage Willie. Um, I suppose. I don’t know jack about his songs. A couple I do recognize off here, like On The Road Again and Georgia On My Mind, probably heard in movies or other ‘best of’ showcases for Mr. Nelson’s material. A decent assortment of country is on here, from ballads (Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain, Always On My Mind) to honky-tonk (Nothing I Can Do About It Now, City Of New Orleans), and songs with orchestrated production (My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys, Living In The Promiseland). To my untrained ears though, these all just sound like country standards with Willie’s distinctive voice singing. Considering many of these are covers, maybe that’s all there is to it.

Marvin Gaye - Collections

Columbia/Sony Music Entertainment: 2001/2004

It’s just not fair. Marvin Gaye had turned things around in his life, looked primed to take the ‘80s by storm after struggling for much of the previous decade. Columbia got him out of his Motown contract, plus all the promotional perks that came with being on the label, and he provided them with an instant classic with Sexual Healing, for which he won all sorts of awards and accolades for. If he could keep that mojo going, the three album deal with Columbia might have brought us a trilogy of the greatest modern R&B music ever written, no small feat in a decade that saw the emergence of tons of smooth, soulful crooners. But no, the cruelty of the fates decreed that he'd be murdered by his own father in an argument, denying the world the heart-warming tale of musical triumph over bitter tragedy. No wonder that Marvin Gaye biopic has struggled to get greenlit – who'd want to watch something so depressing?

As a means of completing that three album contract, two posthumous records were released by Columbia. The first, Dream Of A Lifetime, used various recordings from the Midnight Love sessions (aka: the Sexual Healing LP) in making a follow-up to that highly successful album. The third, Romantically Yours, gathered earlier sessions from aborted projects during Gaye's Motown days, creating something of a throw-back candlelight soul album in the process. It stands quite in contrast to the previous two, using traditional instrumentation over the electronic beats and production of Midnight and Dream. These weren't cash grabs either, producers and long-time collaborators Gordon Banks and Harvey Fuqua aiming to honor Gaye’s memory, with the albums intended as a love-letter to his fans.

Thus, when it came time for ol’ Marvin to have his honorary Super Hits/Collections, there wasn’t a heck of a lot for Columbia to choose from. Obviously Sexual Healing is here, but what else from these albums generated some chart action for the Gaye estate? Funky Sanctified Lady was the other major one, which features vocoder action no less. More interesting is the original title, Sanctified Pussy, which can still be heard from Gaye in a muffled sort of way.

That’s about it for singles though. I haven’t a clue how Columbia went about compiling this CD, why they chose the tracks they did. It’s a very small sample of Gaye’s discography, though does provide a respectable overview of his talents, even if more than half of this track list is heavy with the early ‘80s funk and soul. And if you’re looking for his vintage sound, the latter portions with orchestras and lounge jazz croon is fine. I guess.

Sorry, I don’t have nearly enough experience with his ‘60s and ‘70s output to know if songs like Walkin’ In The Rain and Stranger In My Life hold up. Y’all are probably better off springing for a comprehensive greatest hits or box set (again) if you’re after a proper Gaye experience.

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!

One Thousand.

Not reviews. Not releases reviewed. Just posts, which includes a few fluff updates in there. Like this one! Guess folks expect some pomp for this accomplishment of sorts, so here it is.

Johnny Cash - Collections

Columbia/Sony Music Entertainment: 1994/2004

On the other hand, when faced with a daunting discography like Johnny Cash’s, having limited access to an artist's discography can help ultra-cheap hits packages like Collections. He wrote, performed, and released music at a remarkable clip for much of his early career, finally slowing down once the '80s hit (damn you, '80s!). While you can point to a number of solid standouts that are obligatory in any retrospective (Ring Of Fire, Walk The Line, Folsom Prison Blues), paring everything down to a mere ten is ridiculous. Only a box set buffet could do The Man In Black justice, but I’m not that interested in his music, so this morsel of an appetizer will suffice.

Even having this seems more a point of necessity, no music collection respectable without one of the giants of country music within. Yes, even if you can’t stand the thought of twangy crooners. Mr. Cash carved out a unique niche within that music culture, a gravely baritone, free prison concerts, and somewhat reckless lifestyle painting him as a classic Western outlaw. Nor was he strictly a country performer either, jumping between rockabilly, blues, and gospel tunes whenever the inspiration hit him, the disparate genres often blending together in his music. He was among the first in taking country out of its insular Nashville scene, exporting it to audiences who’d have little other interest in what all them cowboys were singing about. There’s a whole lot more I could get into, but I’d quickly run out of self-imposed word count. Maybe read one of the many biographies out there. Or watch one of the many documentaries. Or a biopic or two.

I’ll probably never delve into Mr. Cash’s discography enough to figure out what his essential works are, so I’ve no idea whether the selection of Collections does him justice. It obviously has his two breakout hits in I Walk The Line and Folsom Prison Blues, both from his 1957 debut With His Hot And Blue Guitar. From the following year is Big River from the album Sings the Songs That Made Him Famous and I Still Miss Someone from The Fabulous Johnny Cash. Yeah, country album titles weren’t terribly creative back in the day. Eh, where’s Ring Of Fire among all these, you ask? (no, pretend you did) That came later, released in ’63, when Cash signed to Columbia, and appearing on the album Ring Of Fire: The Best Of Johnny Cash. Man, great song titles, but lousy ones for LPs, every time.

The rest of Collections rounds up some of Cash’s more well known tunes and covers of the late ‘60s, including a live prison performance of the hilarious A Boy Named Sue. Capping things off is a ’76 cover of the Wayne Kemp number One Piece At A Time. Man, this recording’s far too polished for a capper on this version of The Man In Black story. Why couldn’t the original Super Hits have come out after he’d done Hurt?

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!

ACE TRACKS: January 2013

The time: a long ago past, in the previous decade of our 21st Century. The item: a grocery store displayer showcasing a pile of ‘greatest hits’ CDs from a remarkable assortment of artists I knew of but almost certainly would never buy. Names like George Jones, Roy Orbison, Kris Kristofferson, Quiet Riot, Joe Cocker, and Bangles. There were a few acts that did interest me though, and at a crisp $5 a pop for ten songs, saw no harm in indulging some. These were part of a Sony Music series called Collections.

What I hadn’t realized was they were re-issued Columbia discs, originally titled Super Hits. Windows Media Player knew though, ripping them to my harddrive as such. I never got around to adjusting them until now, and a good thing too. If they’d been in their correct alphabetical order, I’d be committed to reviewing a week’s worth of non-electronic music in that first month of this blog’s rebirth, undoubtedly chasing away those dozen or so stray eyes that had wandered here. Now, three years on, such occasional genre dalliances on my part is expected, so no harm in talking about these Collections CDs. Which acts did I buy? Stay tuned, folks!

Okay, that out of the way, here’s some of the best music I reviewed way back in January 2013.


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Various - Elemental Chill Vol. 2: Earth
Various - Elemental Chill Vol. 4: Water
N-Trance - Electronic Pleasure
Various - The Electro Compendium
Various - Earth Dance
Laurent Garnier - Early Works

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 3% (that’s only including tracks with actual rapping in it tho’)
Percentage Of Rock: 3%
Most “WTF?” Track: The Sonic Voyagers - Endless Missions, Pt. 2 (what are those cut up voices saying?)

Oh god, thank my stars that The Electro Compendium isn’t on Spotify. I don’t think anyone could handle a playlist with that much electro. Bummed about the lack of Laurent though, all those tasty early techno, acid, and trance singles out of reach. Well, if you just really on this player for your music options anyway. Also, what’s up with so much ‘90s euro dance being rare on these streaming services? I see ample amounts of karaoke options, but none of the originals. For a genre that did big business back in the day, you’d think some label would scoop of the rights to all those hits.

Not much else to say about this playlist. With a significant chunk of January missing, it’s made for a relatively short outing. I guess music along the lines of DJ Shadow’s downbeat hip-hop has the most presence, but generally it’s a varied collection of music folks should come expect of these things by now: trance, house, ambient, acid, and gypsy music.

Tiga & Zyntherius - Sunglasses At Night

International Deejay Gigolo/Turbo: 2001/2002

This could have bombed so badly. True, Tiga had an edge in underground cool thanks to his DJing and label Turbo, and might have even eked out a tidy side career making gritty techno or groovy acid as many of his chums and associates were doing. However, electroclash was plenty filled with singer/producer tandems, all doing a take on deconstructionist ‘80s kitsch, with little need for another in a too-rapidly saturated scene. Mr. Sontang had something unique to his credit though, a talent – nay, gift! – that all the Hacker & Kittins or Felix & Melistars or ADULT & Nicolas didn’t: a male voice! No, really, that one attribute probably gave Sunglasses At Night more presence on every electroclash collection of the time, an island of Y chromosome in a sea of double-X. Then again, with everyone going for the detached androgynous delivery, maybe it wasn’t such a big deal after all.

More important though, Sunglasses At Night gave Tiga a tremendous shot of confidence in his own singing voice, leading to a surprising career in charming, quirky synth-pop singles. It’s not like he wanted it either, but producing pal Jori Hulkkonen – the Zyntherius one – convinced him he had the talent to pull it off. And while there are electronic treatments to Tiga’s voice that likely masked any early imperfections, the charisma Mr. Sontag exudes comes through in spades, an icy-cool calm for a song that was incredibly camp in its original Corey Hart version. With Jori’s minimalist electro and infectious synth arpeggio complementing Tiga, you have an instant electroclash hit. Incidentally, if you’re wondering why choose Sunglasses At Night as a cover to begin with, it’s a Canadian thing. Remarkable, then, that Tiga & Zyntherius took a song Europe never registered in its heyday, and made it one of the most overplayed singles of 2002.

On this Turbo edition of the single, we get a TVG remix instead of the Chris Liebing rub as found on the original International Deejay Gigolo EP. This was a short-lived pseudonym between Tiga and Mateo Murphy, taking all that trendy ‘80s retro stylee and feeding it through some fun techno action. Such is the case with Sunglasses At Night too, essentially the techno version of the electro original. Also on here is B-side Sweet Sedation, which I’m assuming is a cover of the 1984 grinding industrial track of the same name from Test Dept. It’s kinda’ hard to tell because the original is almost anti-music, with shouty, garbled, incompressible lyrics. Tiga instead goes for sneering seduction while Zyntherius provides a slow, slinky EBM groove, and is possibly one of the coolest forgotten tracks in Tiga’s discography. Impress your trainspotting friends by playing this at your next electroclash retro party!

As big a record Sunglasses At Night was for Tiga, it was merely a catalyst, the beginning of what’s proven to be a successful career with many more hits to his name. Not bad for a track the singer had doubts over.

Faithless - Sunday 8PM

Arista: 1998

I know I'm supposed to declare Sunday 8PM the only Faithless album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a Faithless fan. It is, after all, the best of their discography, an excellent summation of the group's musical talents, nary a duff track in the lot, and all that good rot. Doing so, though, sells the importance of Insomnia on Reverence way short. I can guarantee there wouldn't be a Faithless as we’ve come to know them without the success of that single. Rollo and Sister Bliss would likely have retreated to other pet projects, absent of critical kudos, legions of fans, and piles of money-cash. Insomnia was so big, everyone doubted they could have topped it, and the debate still lingers whether God Is A DJ does the deed or not.

Still, Reverence was the experiment, everyone working together to see if their vision could work. Lo’, they succeeded, but having spent such a brief amount of time on it (a month!), what could they do with more prep and production? The answer is Sunday 8PM, an album that takes everything that made Reverence such a charming excursion and refines them into a wonderful whole.

You’ve got the chill-out instrumental opener The Garden fusing all sorts of influences like trip-hop, acoustic folk, and cinematic dub. You got rugged conscious hip-hop fused with melancholic orchestras on Bring My Family Back. There’s crackly folk-hop Postcards, which actually samples a Dido song released that same year rather than cut another vocal for the track – guess Rollo couldn’t help being efficient there. Why Go? goes for the full soul croon, which I thought was sung by Faithless’ still-employed soul-croon extraordinaire Jamie Catto. Silly me, he’s on the gospel-hop Hour Of Need, whereas that silly-hatted DJ Boy George gets the vocal on Why Go?. Elsewhere, Dido gets an actual song for herself in Hem Of His Garment, while Maxi Jazz throws in another sexy song with She’s My Baby. His shining moment on this album though, is Killer’s Lullaby, a chilling tale of sinister thoughts and deeds. The production on this track is positively stunning, starting with a soft, unassuming ambient session, then unleashing harsh trip-hop weirdness, and hitting a climax of cascading harpsichords and apocalyptic choirs, ending with a final, quiet denouement. Holy descent into madness, Batman!

Oh, and there’s two smashing club anthems in here too, God Is A DJ, and Take The Long Way Home. You’ve heard them, especially the former. I don’t need to talk about them as much.

Another feature of Sunday 8PM that trumps Reverence is just how well it flows together, including partial mixes between some tracks. The first Faithless album had good flow too, but this one’s sequence is sublime, shifting moods from introspective to exuberant, from harrowing to jubilant. It’s definitely one that deserves the full play-through treatment, though any track stands strong on its own too. Yes, even that titular sonic doodle in the back half. That bass pitch, mang!