Shelter From The Storm

I grew up in Southern California. But, I’ve never been surfing, not even once. There’s a lot more to Southern California than just the “surfing/beach party” impression that many people have of it. My family moved to Lancaster, a small town in the Mojave Desert, when I was about three or four. It’s less than a ninety-minute drive from Lancaster to the golden beaches of Santa Monica, Venice or even Malibu. But in almost every way possible it seemed like a million miles away to a kid growing up there in the sixties. Lancaster is flat, desolate, windy and barren. Some people find beauty in the desert but it’s not easy for me to see. I spent too many formative years there, bored, restless and dreaming of the excitement and adventure that I knew must surely exist somewhere else. Lancaster has grown a lot in the last 40 years, but back in the sixties it was a world away from the glamour of Hollywood, the hustle of Los Angeles or the surf culture of Topanga Beach. 

I was only six years old when The Beach Boys had their first hit with “Surfin’ USA.” I’d hear some of their songs on the radio now and then growing up, but they never made much of an impression on me. I don’t think I owned a single Beach Boys album until I was well into my twenties when I picked up a copy of Endless Summer, their 2 LP greatest hits collection. But that was about as far as my interest in The Beach Boys went. Sometime in 1990 Capitol reissued Pet Sounds on CD with three bonus tracks and extensive liner notes. I figured it was about time I spent some time with this “classic” album I’d always heard so much about so I bought a copy. The first thing I realized was that I had heard more of this music than I thought I had. The opening track, “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” as well as “Sloop John B” were, of course, radio staples (be it on AM in the sixties or Classic Rock FM in the eighties and nineties). “Caroline, No” and “God Only Knows” were also quite familiar to me as were some of the other songs. Still there was a lot of new music on the disc that I hadn’t really listened to before. I spent a lot of time listening to it, and I’m sure it will come as no surprise to anyone who’s familiar with the album, the more time I spent with it, the more I heard and the deeper I got into it. It truly is one of rock’s greatest triumphs and a record unlike anything else I’ve ever heard.

It’s said that Brian Wilson was inspired to create Pet Sounds by the 1965 US release of The Beatles’ Rubber Soul album. That album was the first that Wilson had ever heard where he felt like the songs belonged together, that the whole thing was one coherent piece of musical art, not just a collection of ten or twelve random songs thrown together for sales purposes. In turn the writing and production on Pet Sounds, mainly the rich, sumptuous, almost symphonic sound that Wilson meticulously crafted with layers and layers of vocals and instrumentation is said to have inspired The Beatles to create Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. It’s also been reported that Wilson basically made Pet Sounds as a solo album, with the rest of the band lending a hand only on the multi-tracked vocal harmonies. The first single from the album, “Caroline, No” was even released under Wilson’s name, not the band’s.

Pet Sounds marked a distinct departure from the Beach Boys’ albums that had proceeded it. Party and surfing songs were replaced with introspective, intimate, almost confidential ballads full of longing, confusion and emotional uncertainty. Rock ‘n’ roll was, for the most part, replaced with grand, extravagant pieces of luxurious, at times almost classical, music. There were even two instrumentals (”Let’s Go Away For Awhile” and “Pet Sounds”), a little odd for a “vocal” group. “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” the lead off track, is a glorious, vibrant piece of buoyant optimism that provides a perfect bridge from the Beach Boys’ earlier sound to Wilson’s new vision. Whether intentional or not, it’s almost as if Wilson is tipping his hat to the past as he prepares us for what’s to come, hoping to dampen the shock a little bit. From there we head straight into the melancholy heart of Pet Sounds with “You Still Believe In Me,” “That’s Not Me” and especially “Don’t Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder).” Every time Wilson comes close to a song that might not have seemed out of place on an earlier Beach Boys album he pulls back at the last moment. Listen to “That’s Not Me” and you can clearly hear how Wilson could have very easily taken the song in a different direction and turned it into a typical “pop” gem. Instead, he pulls in the reigns and gives it a much more understated feeling. In downplaying the “Top 40″ nature (that he could easily have followed) he creates a song that stands as a true testament to the evolution of a master songwriter.  Same thing with “I’m Waiting For The Day”. Just when you think the chorus is going to open up into a typical sixties pop nugget, Wilson turns the whole thing around. I just love those drums that only seem to appear between verses. “Sloop John B” was the biggest hit from the album in the US, while in England “God Only Knows,” surely one of the most achingly beautiful pop songs ever created, was a number 2 smash (it only reached number 39 in the States). “I Know There’s An Answer” and “Here Today” are as close as the album comes to the uptempo, rocking numbers from years gone by. But the real soul of the album lies in “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” a song that uncannily prophesies Wilson’s subsequent withdrawal from society. ”Caroline, No” is the perfect, plaintive summation of everything that came before it. From start to finish, it’s every bit the masterpiece most critics and listeners refer to it as.

Pet Sounds has been reissued over and over since it first appeared on CD in 1990. Capitol released a four disc box set (The Pet Sound Sessions) in 1997, a mono version/stereo version disc in 1999 and a two 40th Anniversary Editions in 2006. I think there may have even been one or two other versions in there somewhere as well. All the “extra” tracks, the bonus material, the session snippets, the instrumental beds and everything else are great, but when you get right down to it, it’s really the thirteen songs from the the original album that matter most. If you have those, you have the stuff that counts.

Pet Sounds was the first Beach Boys album to fail to reach Gold Record status upon it’s release. While it certainly couldn’t be considered a failure at the time, it was also not considered the masterpiece it is revered as today. It was only in the following years that Wilson’s innovation and creativity was truly appreciated to the point where it’s now considered one of the classic rock albums of all time. And it’s interesting to note that Pet Sounds just keeps moving higher and higher in stature among critics and listeners as the years go by. In the 1978 poll it was number 12, in 1987 it was number 8 and in 2003 it had risen all the way to number 2. (See my post about Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band for more information on these three polls.) I guess I’m not the only one who came a little late to the party.

#2 Rolling Stone: The 500 Greatest Albums Of All Time (2003)
#8 Critics’ Choice: The Top 100 Rock ‘n’ Roll Albums Of All Time (1987)
#12 Rock Critics’ Choice: The Top 200 Albums (1978)
Somewhere between #50 and #100 on my list of all-time favorite albums

Other Listens on August 17th:
Max’s Kansas City Night (bootleg) by Bruce Springsteen
Joe’s Place ‘74 Soundboard (bootleg) by Bruce Springsteen

I used to frequent a record store in San Marcos, Texas called Sundance Records. I’d make a point of stopping by almost every day. The folks who owned and ran the store became friends, as did the clerks who worked there. I’d always head first for a little bin next to the cash register where they’d place used “new arrivals,” a great place to get cheap CDs. Many of these were often “promo” CDs. For those that might not know, the record labels sound out hundreds, if not thousands of “promotional” CDs on any given title to music writers, radio stations, tour promoters and assorted friends and riffraff. The vast majority of these end up in used record stores. You can’t blame the recipients. Writers in particular often get way more CDs than they can ever listen to or review. They might as well sell the stuff that is of no interest to them. The record labels frown on the practice (of course) but there’s really not much they can do about it. They will usually punch a hole in the bar code or stamp the booklet with “Promotional Copy” to at least make sure the CDs don’t end up getting returned to them as defective units. Truth be told there’s a lot of record label employees who sell stuff on the side to used record stores for a little extra cash. I’d often buy new and interesting looking things from this bin that I didn’t know much about, just because the price was right. For $5.99 or $6.99 I’d take a chance on a lot of stuff. One of the CDs I bought in 1993 was Tuesday Night Music Club by Sheryl Crow. Didn’t know a thing about her but I’ve always had a soft spot for female artists (be they rock, folk, country or whatever). One listen and I knew I’d found something special. With ”Run, Baby, Run,” “Strong Enough,” “I Shall Believe,” and of course “Leaving Las Vegas” and “All I Wanna Do,” this was a phenomenal debut from a very promising artist. Her label A&M obviously believed in Crow as well, as they they worked this album for almost a year before it finally paid off when the third single from the album, “All I Wanna Do,” made it to Number 2 on the charts in the summer of 1994. The first two singles had not made much of an impression on the record buying public and one can only wonder what would have become of Crow if the “All I Wanna Do” had also failed to chart. 

I’ve followed Crow’s career carefully over the past 15 years. There have certainly been ups and downs but she’s managed to put together an incredible body of work over the course of just five albums. Sheryl Crow, The Globe Sessions and especially 2002’s C’mon, C’mon are real favorites that I come back to frequently. “Soak Up The Sun” is one of my very favorite all-time pop songs. The only real disappoint in her catalog is 2005’s Wildflower, an uncharacteristically lifeless and bland affair. Fair or not, I guess we can blame it on the “too happy to make a good record” syndrome. As Bob Dylan once said, “Pain sure brings out the best in people, doesn’t it?”

Detours is a marvelous return to form. The songs are some of the best she’s written in years. But what most people will probably site as the key ingredient here is the return of Bill Bottrell who had produced Tuesday Night Music Club. Apparently Crow and Bottrell had a big falling out not long after Tuesday Night Music Club became a smash success (he called Crow “hopeless” and “obnoxious” in a 1996 Rolling Stone cover story on her). He was originally slated to produce her follow up album but pulled out before recording began. A masterful producer, Bottrell has been on board for several classic releases in recent years, including Shelby Lynne’s I Am Shelby Lynne. It seems he and Crow remained estranged for quite a long time until Crow called him up and asked him to work with her on this new album. We can all be quite thankful that they buried the hatchet because the music they have once again made together accounts for a truly splendid album, something I wasn’t expecting after Wildflowers.

Crow has always been a passionate songwriter, well schooled in the Joni Mitchell/James Taylor/Carole King mold of “confessional” songwriting. Detours is no different. The songs here are direct, poignant and very personal. There are four distinct themes running through this album: her recent bout with breast cancer, her adoption of a son, Wyatt, in 2007, her very public relationship and breakup with Lance Armstrong and, surprisingly, current political events. Crow has never been known as a “political” songwriter, though she did make the news in 2007 when she headlined a Stop Global Warming College Tour and when she and co-partner in crime Laurie David got into a bit of a tiff with Bush adviser Karl Rove. It’s a bit of a surprise (though quite welcome indeed) to find three overtly political songs on this album. “God Bless This Mess,” with it’s single acoustic guitar and Crow’s compressed vocal, sounds like it’s coming straight out of a cheap AM radio. A poignant “state of the union address” written from the perspective of an ordinary, average American, it set’s the mood immediately. “Peace Be Upon Us,” with it’s Arabic lyrics is a moving, modern day version of “Give Peace A Chance” while “Gasoline” is a wicked, remarkably infectious tongue-in-cheek rave-up about the politics of oil. ”Love Is Free” and “Out Of Our Heads” are pure, classic Sheryl Crow, easily the two catchiest things she’s done since “Soak Up The Sun,” though the pop melody of “Out Of Our Heads” belies the political sentiments underneath. The acoustic based “Detours” and and the damning “Diamond Ring” are obvious reflections on her relationship with Armstrong. “Make It Go Away (Radiation Song)” is a harrowing look at her brush with cancer. The album comes full circle with “Lullaby For Wyatt” a beautiful declaration of unconditional love for a new child. It may all be a colossal mess, as she asserts at the beginning of the record, but in the end, it all comes back to one basic, simple thing that keeps us all from throwing our hands up in futile despair: love.

Other Listens on August 16th:
Tomorrow The Wold by The Shazam
Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show by Neil Diamond
To The Bone by Kris Kristofferson
Life Death Love And Freedom by John Mellencamp

We installed hard wood flooring in my home office recently and that meant moving all my CDs and vinyl out into a storage shed for a couple of months. No small task. Moving it all back in required me to once again alphabetize the CDs as I put them onto the shelves because no matter how careful you are packing they are going to get a little out of order when transfer them from shelves to boxes and back to shelves again. As I was unpacking a box one day recently something about this CD caught my attention when I came across it and I pulled it out and stuck it on my “listen to next” shelf. Now that in and of itself is no guarantee I’ll get to something any faster really. There are a couple of CDs that have been on my “listen to next” shelf for years. Something else always manages to get in the player before they do. It seems I still buy CDs faster than I can listen to them. So some things end up sitting on the shelf for awhile before I get around to listening them. Some things sit there for a very long time indeed.

I know next to nothing about The Shazam. I wonder, is the name a small tribute to the sixties British group The Move? I’m not real sure where this CD even came from. It was released in 2003 on the Not Lame label out of Colorado, the foremost powerpop label in the world. Maybe that’s why I have it. I have a lot of respect for Not Lame and will give most anything they put out a listen. But I don’t have any memory of buying this particular CD. Maybe someone sent it to me. Maybe it was in a goody bag at a SXSW convention. I just don’t know. The band, it turns out, is from Nashville, so there may be some connection there. Anyway, against all odds, I threw this CD into the player one day and sat back in amazement. This has got to be the best powerpop album I’ve heard in a long, long time. I’ve always been a follower of the genre, from The Who to Badfinger to The Dwight Twilley Band to The Cars to The Cretones and on and on and on. The sound (and the feel and spirit) on this album is “big.” It’s not Phil Spector “wall of sound” big, more like a loud, raucous, delicious, gorgeous powerpop big, due in no small part, I’m sure, to the brilliant production by Brad Jones, a well known Nashville rock producer. We’re talking loud crunchy guitars throwing off powerchords left and right, snappy drums keeping everything moving at a non-stop, no frills pace, great melodic hooks everywhere you look and crisp vocals and harmonies holding everything together.

Many of the songs have that “classic” feel, like you’re heard them before, even though you know you haven’t. That’s due in small part to some ingenious “steals” peppered throughout the songs (the “London Calling” riff hidden away in “You Know Who” or the “Brown Sugar” riff that kicks off ”Rockin’ And Rollin’ (With My) Rock ‘N’ Roll Rock ‘N’ Roller” the first song on the album). But it really has a lot more to do with the terrific songwriting skills of Hans Rotenberry (who also handles guitar). This is one guy who knows his way around a punchy melody and a memorable hook. There’s enough “ear candy” here to keep even the most rabid powerpop fan happy. At this point it’s hard for me to pick out many real favorites because all of the songs just knock me out and I haven’t lived with the album enough to see what stands up best over time. But I will say that “Squeeze The Day,” “The Not Quite Right Kid,” “Goodbye American Man” and the sole ballad “I’m Not Lost Anymore” are real standouts. And then there’s ”Rockin’ And Rollin’ (With My) Rock ‘N’ Roll Rock ‘N’ Roller” which is probably my favorite right now. The song itself is all fluff, but man, what fluff. It’s the kind of song that sounds like it was thrown together in ten minutes (and maybe it was) but it’s also the kind of timeless classic that turns out to be exactly what it sounds like on the first listen, pure pop magic. 

A little research on allmusic.com shows this is the fourth release from The Shazam. There’s not a lot of info about the band there so I checked out their myspace page. Not a lot of information there as well, but I did find something about a possible new album titled Meteor they are said to be working on. I’ll probably end up buying their other three albums on Amazon.com sometime soon, because if they’re anywhere near as good as this I want to hear them. It’s so great to come across an album like this in my collection every now and then: a real gem I didn’t even know I had. Makes me wonder what else is hidden away in those shelves I just haven’t had time to get to yet. If only there was more time in the day maybe I could get caught up. Nah, probably not.

Other Listens on August 13th:
Monterey International Pop Festival by Various Artists

In 1976 I got the job I had been looking for over the past few years: working at a real record store. I’d worked for The Wherehouse, a record chain in California, but not in an actual store, I was in the warehouse and it wasn’t quite the same. I’d worked very briefly at a tiny little store in Key West, Florida called The Tape Ape, but it was too too small to really mean much. I’d tried for almost a year to get a job at one of the record stores near the campus of Syrcause University when I lived there, but was never able to. Finally, after I ended up in Austin, Texas I got a job at Disc Records in Highland Mall. For me, this was nirvana. A real record store. Not too long later the manager of that store and I transferred over to another store in town, Zebra Records. Zebra was also owned by Disc Records, but it was a “stand-alone” store, not located in a mall as all of their other stores were. It was, in fact, the coolest record store in town and I was the assistant manager (I can’t tell you how much that meant to me at the time). About a year later I was offered a promotion to move to Houston and become the manager of the Disc Records store in The Galleria Mall. I had reservations about moving from Austin to Houston, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. As the store manager I also began to attend the annual company convention that Disc Records held each year. This was my first real introduction into the “politics” that existed between the labels and the record stores. Most of the major labels would “sponsor” certain “events” at the convention. And, of course, they always had an act or two to push. The vast majority of these acts never amounted to anything, but occasionally one would break through. One year they were pushing a new guy named John Cougar. He had a new album with a song they were certain would be a smash hit, “I Need A Lover,” but I wasn’t too impressed. I think the song did actually make a little noise and hit the Top 40 (Pat Benatar would also mine the song for an AOR hit a few years later). It took two more albums and then Mellencamp really did break through with his first monster hits, “Jack And Diane” and “Hurts So Good.”

I didn’t follow Mellencamp much until the release of Scarecrow in 1985. Sure, I’d heard the other hits like “Pink Houses” and “Authority Song” on the radio, but they didn’t interest me enough to buy or listen to an entire album. All that changed dramatically with Scarecrow, one of my very favorite albums from that year. I think it was seeing Mellencamp perform “Rain On The Scarecrow” on Farm Aid that turned me around and got me to go out and buy the record. The follow up album, The Lonesome Jubilee, was also a regular on my turntable. But then I began to lose interest again. Big Daddy, Whenever We Wanted, Human Wheels, Dance Naked, Mr. Happy Go Lucky, Mellencamp kept putting out albums and I’d find one or two songs to like on each release, but as a whole the discs just weren’t connecting with me like the earlier stuff had. Towards the late nineties I stopped buying his records altogether.

I have to say right up front that it was the fact that T. Bone Burnett produced this album that inspired me to order it from Amazon (well the fact that I could get it for $9.99 didn’t hurt either). This is Mellencamp’s strongest release in almost twenty years, due in equal parts I think to an outstanding collection of songs, flawless production from Burnett and what seems like a reinvigorated and revitalized passion in Mellencamp’s performances. The term “comeback” album gets thrown around way too much, but if ever there was good cause to use it, it’s here. Whether it’s the influence of Burnett, a natural progression of Mellencamp’s continuing development as a writer and performer or a combination of both, Live Death Love And Freedom is a truly outstanding piece of work. It’s not the kind of “rock” album Mellencamp is most famous for. Almost all of the songs utilize a full band (including electric guitars, drums, bass and organ) but for the most part everything sounds quiet and dark, even slightly menacing. The songs themselves reflect a maturity and insight that only comes with age and experience, though these songs are much less about answers then they are about the journey. This is a long, long way from the swaggering and bravado of “Hurts So Good” or “Authority Song.” It’s actually the kind of stuff Mellencamp touched on briefly in “Minutes To Memories” on Scarecrow, where he told the story of an old man sharing hard earned wisdom with a younger Mellencamp who couldn’t quite grasp the old man’s “vision.” Things have come full circle now, roles have been reversed and Mellencamp finds himself as the elder statesman. “This getting older, well it ain’t for cowards,” he sings and throughout the album he makes that the central theme. From start to finish Mellencamp is consumed (even obsessed) with death, dying, loss, disappointment and, in the end, acceptance and redemption.

“Longest Days” sets the mood for the entire album with a simple acoustic guitar and Mellencamp singing quietly about life, changes, death and disillusionment. “Nothing lasts forever and your best efforts don’t always pay, Sometimes you get sick and you don’t get better,” he sings. It’s one of the most direct, powerful songs Mellencamp has written in a long time. Things are balanced out immediately, both in the music and the lyrics in the gentle “My Sweet Love” a tribute to the power of an enduring relationship and romantic love that can transcend everything else. “If I Die Sudden” is the kind of song Mellencamp might have written twenty years ago during his most fertile period. If it had appeared on Scarecrow or The Lonesome Jubilee it would probably have been rendered as a flat out rocker. Here Burnett infuses the song with a sense of ominous tension (that fits perfectly with the lyrics) using understated drums as well as spooky guitars and organs.

The centerpiece of the album, the song which all the others seem to revolve around, is “Don’t Need This Body” a down to earth contemplation on the end of life. Mellencamp acknowledges all the years gone by, the “washed up and worn out” body and the “ten million hours” put in and finds a worthwhile reward at the end knowing that he loved and was loved. “A Ride Back Home” may be the most easily accessible song on the album, an straight-forward plea for inner peace and an end to the troubles of mortal life.  There’s also a “political song”, “Jena,” and a great little “I’m dead now and writing this” story song in the grand tradition of “El Paso,” “County Fair.”

The album closes the way it began. “For The Children” is a quiet, reflective look at the extensive questions and mysteries of life, many of which seem to go unanswered no matter how old we get. But there’s a sense of contentment here that breathes hope and faith into the lyrics. Finally, “A Brand New Song” provides the perfect bookend to the opening despair of “Longest Days.” Mellencamp pulls all the themes he’s explored over the course of the album into one parting affirmation of life. He may not have found the answers he was looking for, he may not have seen all the dreams come true, but in the end he has found peace and purpose in the transitory nature of life: “Life is always in motion, and there’s new people to count on, Here you may find a purpose and sing a brand new song.” Acceptance of the inherent qualities of life, whether we like them or not, he seems to be saying, may be the only way to fully embrace it and cherish it for what it is. A perfect end to remarkable new album.

As a side note it’s interesting to point out that the CD version of this album ships with a second disc, the same album on a DVD using a “new system” to create high-definition audio. Developed by Burnett and his team of engineers the system is named “CODE” though they represent it in Greek letters that I can’t really duplicate here. The claim is that with this disc we’ll hear the music “with a resonance, depth, and presence that is unprecedented in the digital age.” Well, OK. It’s hard to believe they’re going to get very far with this, but you never know. DVD Audio went nowhere fast and SACD went nowhere even faster. In this age of MP3 players the vast majority of listeners are simply not interested in super, high quality audiophile technology. While there may be a very small, dedicated, obsessed core of audiophiles who do appreciate this technology I just don’t think it’s going have much impact. Consumers seem very slow to embrace the transition from DVD to Blu-Ray and for most people that’s an even easier leap to make being that it’s visual. Still, it’s nice that they included the extra disc at no additional cost.

Other Listens on August 11th:
All This Tangled Rope (bootleg) by Bob Dylan

I’m starting another little side project today. I love lists. (I’ve got a few over in my sidebar if you want to take a look.) There’s something about the “organization” of lists that just suits me perfectly. I like order, organization, everything in it’s place. I have lists of things to do each day, lists of things to do tomorrow, lists of albums I need to buy, lists of albums I need to sell, lists of albums I love and like, lists of artists I need to make iTunes playlists (more lists!) for. I don’t think I’m quite as carried away as the guys from the movie High Fidelity are, but my wife and some of my friends might disagree. In 1978 I found a book titled Rock Critics’ Choice: The Top 200 Albums compiled by Paul Gambaccini. I loved going through the book and comparing my favorite albums with the ones chosen by a group of nearly four dozen journalists and critics. It was a small, simple book and most of the entries were simple listings with label info, release dates and tracks. Some of the albums featured a short blurb by a writer who had chosen it as his number one favorite. The second half of the book was even more fascinating, as each of the contributors was asked to list their Top Ten albums of all time. Gambaccini updated the book ten years later in 1987, cutting it to 100 albums but including an essay about each album and enlarging it into a “coffee book” size tome. In 2005 Rolling Stone went far deeper and released a The 500 Greatest Albums Of All Time (based on an issue of the magazine from December 2003). Using what they called a “blue-ribbon panel of experts and true fans” (hey, what about me, I’m a true fan!) they published the “definitive” list for every rock and roll collector. 273 voters (singers, songwriters, musicians, producers, managers, critics, label executives and more) cast ballots. To their credit they cast a wide net: Britney Spears got a vote, as did Pete Seeger. There were no restrictions on albums, any album was eligible for a vote. They did, however, use a “weighted point system developed by the accounting firm of Ernst & Young under the supervision of the editors of Rolling Stone.” I’m not sure exactly what that means or how the “weighed” the votes, but apparently there was some “massaging” of the results. Regardless, it’s a fascinating book. Of course the first thing I did was look through it and wonder in amazement at how some of my favorite albums were not even included; how some of my least favorite albums placed so high; and at how many of my favorite albums seemed to place in just about the same general area as they would on my Top 500 list.

So, I’ve decided to begin my trek through the book, listening and writing about each of the 500 albums listed therein. I’ll probably only cover one every week or two, so it may take five or ten years for me to get through the entire book, but what the hell. It’s the journey that counts, right? I currently have about 300 of the 500 CDs in my collection, so it also means I’ll have to spring for the rest as the process unfolds. I’ll make a note in the title of each blog entry that is related to this side project so it’s readily apparent the post is about one of the Rolling Stone albums. First up, their Number One album of all-time: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles.

Rolling Stone calls it “the most important rock & roll album ever made” and yeah, it’s pretty hard to argue with that. Just consider the fact that it placed number one in all three of the books I mentioned above, covering a 30 year time span. However, even though I agree with that statement it doesn’t mean it’s my favorite rock & roll album of all-time. Far from it. It’s quite possible to agree that an album is “important,” “historical,” “ground-breaking” and even “great” without actually “liking” it (however, don’t get me wrong, I do like this album a lot). I’d even go so far as to say that I might consider some albums “better” than others that I actually prefer to listen to more often. My list of “favorite” albums might not be exactly the same as my list of “the greatest” albums. Emotion, sentimentality and lots of other intangible factors play a huge part in what I “like,” what I listen to and what I consider a favorite. Eddie Rabbit’s first album may not be anywhere near as good an album as Beggar’s Banquet by The Rolling Stones, but I probably listen to it more often. I like The Beatles. I have enormous respect for The Beatles. But, I’m not a Beatles fanatic. Through the years I’ve certainly listened to St. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band a lot, but it probably wouldn’t place in my list of Top 100 favorite albums. It’s a classic, of course, I won’t argue with that, but I just don’t listen to it that much. On the other hand,  John Lennon’s first solo album, Plastic Ono Band, is in my Top Ten. You figure it out.

Lots better writers than I have written books worth of material on Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band with far more insight and wisdom that I could ever aspire to. I can only tell you what it does for me. I was eleven years old when the album was released. I was far too young at the time to truly appreciate the innovation and creativity the band brought to this particular release. Looking back now it’s easy to see, but only if taken in the context of the times. Most of the techniques, ideas and approaches to making music that they pioneered on this are second nature now. It’s probably pretty hard for anyone who didn’t grow up in the sixties to begin to understand how monumental this music was at the time, what a real listening experience it must have been when dropped upon the unsuspecting public. And keep in mind that all this fantastic sounding music with all its layers and instruments and vocals and sound effects was done with four-track tape machines! George Martin’s part in all of this cannot be overestimated.

My favorite songs from this album have always been “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds,” “Getting Better” and “Good Morning Good Morning.” I don’t care what John Lennon says, the psychedelic lyrics and sound of “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” can’t be anything other than a salute to LSD. It would have to be the biggest coincidence in the history of mankind for him to have not written the song reflecting on his experiences with the drug with that title. I love the majestic construction of “She’s Leaving Home.” It’s truly breathtaking. “With A Little Help From My Friends” and “When I’m Sixty-Four” are always fun. Truth is almost every song on this album is part of my musical DNA, either through the radio, the album itself or just American culture in general. The only song that really doesn’t do much for me is “Within You Without You.” It’s one of the only songs on the album that feels “inauthentic” to me, as if the eccentric production exists mainly for it’s own sake. It’s my understanding that Harrison is the only Beatle playing on this, that the rest of the musicians are Indian. And I’m all for experimentation of this sort, I just don’t think it works on this song. I’d love to hear a version done in a more typical Harrison arrangement. And then, of course, there is “A Day In The Life,” probably the single biggest, grandest, most sumptuous “grand finale” ever recorded on a modern day album. It’s also, from what I’ve read, one of the few true collaborations between Lennon and McCartney at this point in time, being composed of two song fragments that were worked into this final piece.

You can’t mention Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band without also noting the groundbreaking cover artwork which marked the beginning of albums being considered true visual art as well. It’s also, apparently, the first album of the rock era to contain complete lyrics to songs, something that would become almost mandatory in later years. And one last thing to consider: no singles were taken from Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club band. It was a number one album around the world and yet no singles were pulled from it in a time when AM radio and 45RMP singles drove the record business. Truly amazing and a testament to the power of this album.

#1 Rolling Stone: The 500 Greatest Albums Of All Time (2003)
#1 Critics’ Choice: The Top 100 Rock ‘n’ Roll Albums Of All Time (1987)
#1 Rock Critics’ Choice: The Top 200 Albums (1978)
Somewhere between #100 and #200 on my list of all-time favorite albums

Other Listens on August 10th:
Eat A Peach by The Allman Brothers Band

In 1973 I was very deep into Kris Kristofferson. I had discovered him through his 1971 album The Silver Tongued Devil And I. The following two albums, Jesus Was A Capricorn and Border Lord, both released in 1972, were instant favorites. I also went back and picked up is first, self-titled album (later retitled Me & Bobby McGee to take advantage of the huge success from Janis Joplin’s cover). It was through Kristofferson that I first found Rita Coolidge. You could say I was a little late to the game because Coolidge had been around for some time. She’d been a featured member of Joe Cocker’s magnificent Mad Dogs & Englishmen ensemble and she’d made two fine albums of her own. But it was her third album, the 1972 release The Lady’s Not For Sale that I found first and it was all related to Kristofferson. By this time they were a couple (married in 1973). Their careers became very entwined for several years. They shared a band, they toured together, they appeared on each other’s albums and they recorded three duet albums over the next five years. I was seventeen and attending Loyola University in Los Angeles when they played together at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium in 1973. I hitchhiked from school over to Santa Monica (not far, only about six miles) to see the show. I remember my seat wasn’t that great, but I saw some empty seats up pretty close and so after about three or four songs I got up my nerve, walked up and sat down in one of the vacant chairs near the stage. There was a printed invitation on the floor that the previous occupants had left behind. It was one of my first introductions to the jaded excesses of the music business. These people had gotten free tickets, a great seat, a personal invitation to the show and they had left after two or three songs! I couldn’t believe it. It was a great show and I was thoroughly impressed. I saw them play together several times at the Troubador, a much more intimate setting, later that year. They were always great. They’re first debut album, Full Moon, is one of my all-time favorite albums. Unfortunately, it’s never been released on CD. Go figure.

Rita Coolidge is a bit of an anomaly for me. I’m usually drawn to songwriters, artists like Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Shawn Colvin, Rosanne Cash, Trish Murphy, artists who, for the most part, write their own material. It’s not often I find an artist who doesn’t write at all that I like. Linda Ronstadt is the only other notable exception I can think of off hand (well Emmylou Harris as well though she did start writing quite a bit in the last few years), though there may be others. But Coolidge always had a fantastic ear for great songs and many of the songs she recorded were new to me, I wasn’t familiar with other versions. It’s Only Love was her fifth album and it’s probably my favorite. It follows the basic blueprint of her other albums that came before it. Produced by David Anderle (he’d produced her first four albums as well), it’s an excellent collection of ten great songs. “Born To Love Me” and the title track are perfect vehicles for Coolidge’s pure, smooth, sultry, naturally romantic vocals. She has such a wonderful, unique voice that seems tailor made for love songs. Written by little known Nashville songwriter Bob Morrison (I’m guessing there was a Kristofferson connection in there as he was signed to Monument Records) they are also an example of Coolidge’s knack for finding great material that others missed. Matter of fact every song on this album is a love song. There’s one from Kristofferson (”Late Again”), one from the great southern team of Donnie Fritts (a Kristofferson sideman for many, many years) and Eddie Hinton (”Don’t Let Love Pass You By”) and a fantastic version of the Donna Weiss classic “Star.” Coolidge and Anderle take a decidedly interesting sidestep for the last two songs on the album. “Mean To Me” and “Am I Blue” are two classic jazz songs featured in a full, flat out late night jazz session setting. It’s not really my cup of tea, but I think they work very well for what they are.

Coolidge would finally find that elusive hit and huge commercial success with her next album, Anytime…Anywhere. A Top 10 album with three hit singles it also marked a noticeable turn towards a slicker, more pop orientated sound that I never found quite as appealing as her earlier earthy, country/folk flavored albums.

It’s criminal that NONE of Rita Coolidge’s early albums are available on CD. I think the first three were released on CD in Japan at some point, but they were always impossible to find and now fetch over $100 each on Amazon.com. There’s a fine two disc collection titled Delta Lady: The Rita Coolidge Anthology but it’s just ludicrous that her catalog has been so completely ignored in these days of endless remasters and reissues. The Australian reissue label Raven has just released a two-fer containing Anytime…Anywhere and Love Me Again, which is a start. Granted, those two records were probably her most commercially successful so maybe it makes sense, but they were far from her best. We can only hope that someone, somewhere will finally see the light and make an effort to get her first five albums out on CD sometime soon.

Other Listens on August 9th:
Tomorrow The World by The Shazam
Millionaire by Kevin Welch
The Historical Conquests Of Josh Ritter
Pretty Much Your Standard Ranch Stash by Michael Nesmith
Why The Hell Not… The Songs Of Kinky Friedman by Various Artists
Taking The Long Way by The Dixie Chicks

While living in Syracuse, NY in 1976 I made an attempt to get a stint as a DJ at the university radio station. I didn’t get too far. Everything was going pretty well until the music director, a rather holier than though sort, asked me to write up a sample playlist of what I would like to play on a two hour show, should I be given the opportunity to try out. I dutifully put together a list of new, old and classic songs that I thought would make a great show. He took one look at it and said to me incredibly: “You would actually play Johnny Cash on this radio station?” I was listening a lot to Cash’s 1974 release John R. Cash and I think I had included either “Cocaine Carolina” or “My Old Kentucky Home” from that album. Things went downhill from there and I never got a chance to spin any records for the kids at Syracuse University. You have to remember this was 1976 and real country music was still regarded as hillbilly hogwash by many college students. How ironic that almost twenty years later, with the release of  American Recordings, Cash would be celebrated as a musical godfather and hero at many college campuses across the land.

The Man Comes around was the last album of “new” material that Cash released while he was alive (American V was released several years after his death). It continued his fruitful and productive collaboration with Rick Rubin and while it didn’t break any new ground (sticking mainly to the same style they had mined so well on the first three albums of the “American” series) it was different in one way. Cash’s voice was clearly deteriorating. Well, while deteriorating is technically the correct word to describe the process, it’s not really the right one. There’s a certain amount of negativity associated with the word “deteriorating” and the truth of the matter is that while Cash’s voice indisputably lacks the strength and vigor it once had, it’s still an amazing instrument. The key here is the material. When Cash’s ragged, frayed, almost worn out voice connects with the right kind of song it’s almost transcendent. All of the years, all of the history, all of the life, all of the good times and bad times, all of the joy and desperation, all of the hard worn knowledge and tears bleed through that voice into each word. And that happens more times on this album than we have any right to expect. However, for every mini-masterpiece there is a misfire that simply doesn’t work. It all comes down to the song.

 The album kicks off on an outstandingly strong note with three back to back songs that work so well together it’s downright magical. First comes the title song, a Cash original, and one of the best songs he ever wrote. The mystical lyrics, the driving beat, the strong melody with a great, classic hook all suit Cash’s voice perfectly. It’s an amazing performance, one of my very favorites of his later years. It’s followed by what is probably the most well known song from this period of his career, Trent Reznor’s “Hurt.” Again, it’s absolutely astonishing how well Cash inhabits this song and how well the production and the lyrics fit his voice. The accompanying video helped this song reach an audience that ten or twenty years earlier would have scoffed at the idea of Johnny Cash being relevant. Then it’s back to the roots with an acoustic reworking of his classic song from his early Sun Records days, “Give My Love To Rose.” And once again, it’s exactly the kind of song that actually benefits from the raw state of Cash’s voice at this point in time.

But, unfortunately, the magic doesn’t last. A pointless reading of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” follows that just makes no sense. To start with this is one of those songs that probably no one should ever attempt to cover. The original is such a masterpiece, such a one of a kind piece of music, that to bring anything new, distinct and original to it seems almost impossible. Perhaps the song had some sentimental value to Cash. I can’t even begin to guess why they chose to include this, but it’s simply not very good. And that’s the pattern we find throughout this album. Songs like “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” The Beatles classic “In My Life,” the Eagles masterpiece “Desperado” and the old war horse “Danny Boy,” songs that border dangerously close to sentimental, out of place souvenirs, sit right alongside magnificent, almost transcendent songs like “The Man Comes Around,” “Hurt” and ”I Hung My Head.” It’s really as if we have two separate albums here, one a near masterpiece and one that could be described as Cash’s Self Portrait (the universally panned Dylan album from 1970).

Sting’s “I Hung My Head” is another classic reading from Cash where he quite simply just “owns” the song. Another example of exactly the right kind of material that perfectly suits his voice. Cash has always been one of the best storytellers popular music has ever seen and here he turns Sting’s lyrics into a glorious, almost semi-religious sepia-toned virtual movie that continues to play inside your head whether you want it to or not. The rest of the album never quite lives up to the true gems I’ve described above, but the songs and the performances are all solid and strong. “Sam Hall” gives us a quick look into the trademark fire and passion that Cash once threw into his singing with little or no effort whatsoever. “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” which looks so good on paper (and it’s even a duet with Nick Cave), never quite comes together for some reason. “Personal Jesus,” “Streets Of Laredo” and “We’ll Meet Again” round out the collection.

I saw Cash perform live at a tribute concert in New York in 1999, a couple of years before this album was released. We had great seats (third row) and I was astonished at how bad he looked up close. I really thought he couldn’t be more than a few months away from death. He managed to hang on a few more years and I’m glad he did. He left an incredible legacy of music. American IV: The Man Comes Around is certainly nowhere near the top of his best work, but it’s an admirable effort from a man who never quit, who never gave up, who was writing and recording to the very end. And the songs that do work on this album are first rate, they’ll find a home in my iTunes Johnny Cash playlist.

Other Listens on August 8th:
The Very Best Of Deep Purple 
Life Death Love And Freedom by John Mellencamp
Greatest Hits by Billy Joe Shaver
Rides Again by James Gang
Quicksilver Messenger Service by Quicksilver Messenger Service
Santana by Santana