Released in 1974, No Other opens like other Gene Clark albums, with a gorgeous cosmic American ballad, one that's profoundly moving. The album then becomes something entirely different, a sweeping and intense self-examination of personal spirituality, creativity and, ultimately, torment. Every word Clark utters is caked in forlorn wisdom. The stretch containing the title track, "Strength of Strings," "From a Silver Phial" and "Some Misunderstanding" is particularly harrowing. These just aren't songs; they are operettas. Their epic qualities have more in common with prog than country-rock.
Classics such as "God Only Knows," "Wouldn't It Be Nice," and "Sloop John B" blend into one rapturous symphony that combines 1960s pop, avant-garde arrangements, goofball innocence, and oddly reverential, pained genius. Initially ignored in the U.S., the record was instantly hailed as a masterpiece in the U.K. Paul McCartney still ranks it as the greatest album ever made.
Honky Château delivered Elton John from singer-songwriter status to pop star, thanks to songs such as "Honky Cat" and "Rocket Man." This is one of Elton's best albums; both he and Bernie Taupin have hit their stride. Casual listeners may opt for any of his Greatest Hits albums, but Honky Château should be in every fan's music collection.
Creeque Alley: The History Of The Mamas And The Papas is an ambitious anthology that's a testament to creative curation. In addition to all the major hits (the title track, "Monday, Monday," the utterly timeless "California Dreamin'"), it contains a slew of deep cuts from the act's first two albums (both of which are foundations of '60s folk-rock). It also boasts selections from related projects The Big Three and The Mugwumps. On top of all this, interview excerpts have been scattered throughout; these help transform the sprawling tracklist into an audio biography, one that's deeply immersive.
Blue, along with Jackson Browne, established the template for the modern singer-songwriter. On the surface, this music is sparse and simple. But as with any successful exercise in minimalism, repeated spins reveal entire worlds existing inside Mitchell's cleverly constructed melodies and vocal flights. Plus, the title track contains some of pop's best lyrics: "Acid, booze, and ass/ Needles, guns, and grass/ Lots of laughs, lots of laughs/ Everybody's saying that hell's the hippest way to go."
Arguably his finest moment, this superb double set had just about every critic in America declaring Todd Rundgren rock's next great tunesmith. As with Badfinger and Harry Nilsson, his aesthetic is heavily informed by The Beatles (Macca's sweetness in particular). But what sets Rundgren apart is his love of blue-eyed soul. This is apparent on "Sweeter Memories," "Saving Grace" and, of course, the big hit "I Saw the Light." Then again, the guy really is too versatile for simple pigeonholing. After all, "Couldn't I Just Tell You" is propulsive, proto-Cheap Trick power pop with killer guitars.
The super-group's 1969 debut can be described as the end of one era and the beginning of another -- which it often is by critics. But all hippie history and cultural baggage aside, Crosby, Stills and Nash nowadays sounds like just a great collection of California folk-rock, very much in the tradition of the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield and the unheralded Fred Neil. In fact, one of the bonus tracks is a cover of Neil's "Everybody's Talkin'." As with everything else on this record, it's utterly sublime.
Here it is, all you Buddy Holly fans: the most comprehensive boxed set not put out by the Bear Family label. This six-disc monster covers nearly everything, from Holly's very first recording, a 1949 take on Hank Williams' "My Two-Timin' Woman" (he was just 14!), to the famed Apartment Tapes from 1958 and '59, captured shortly before the rocker's tragic demise. If you didn't already know Buddy Holly was a pop genius, then be prepared to have your mind blown. He was the Brian Wilson of the '50s.
Tapestry has at least four songs that you know by heart. A streamlined, fully-packed showcase of King's genre-defining gift for pop songwriting and a benchmark for '70s AM radio, Tapestry has withstood the test of time far better than Frampton Comes Alive -- the other record everybody and their brother bought in the '70s.
Supremes comps are a dime a dozen, but if you want their choicest hits, you could do worse than this chapter in Motown's The Definitive Collection series. Every one is a classic, from the irrepressibly frisky "Baby Love" and "Where Did Our Love Go" to pop-protest standout "Love Child" (and its weaker rewrite, "I'm Livin' in Shame"). While The Supremes lasted until the 1970s, this set focuses on their 1960s output, when Diana Ross, Mary Wilson and Florence Ballard (along with Cindy Birdsong) created one of the greatest catalogs in American pop music.
The more thorough Essential Simon & Garfunkel is a far superior collection. However, it has nothing on Greatest Hits when it comes to sheer nostalgia power. Released back in 1972, two years after the duo had disbanded, the record sold like hotcakes (in excess of 14 million), quickly becoming a mandatory listen for every dorm-room sensitive from New York University to UC Santa Barbara. And if the emergence of Fleet Foxes and freak-folk in the 21st century is any indication, college brats are still worshipping this album. Not surprisingly, it is Simon & Garfunkel's all-time best-selling album.
The first collaboration by the doomed lovers is, not surprisingly, rife with the bleak imagery, wrist-slashing lyrics and celebration of life's endless misery that, as baleful as it is, make the Thompsons' music a treasure of sorts. Richard is one of the key figures in folk rock, and Linda's voice alone makes her every bit his equal. This album is their best work: The title cut is on the short list of greatest breakup songs ever; "When I Get to the Border" is nothing less than mythic; and you can hear Will Oldham being born as "The Calvary Cross" trudges its way to the gallows.
In hindsight, the Jefferson Airplane's Surrealistic Pillow sounds more like a well-crafted collection of mildly psychedelic folk rock than the first album to capture the jarring acid rock sound of San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury scene. On "How Do You Feel?," "My Best Friend," and the moody classic "Today" the twin lead vocals of Grace Slick and Marty Balin soar like the Mamas and Papas', while the only songs to really hint at the fierce atonality of later releases are the two hits that Slick brought with her from the Great Society: "White Rabbit" and "Somebody to Love." Still, when talking up the true landmarks of the era - Revolver, Forever Changes, Days of Future Passed, etc. -- Surrealistic Pillow has to be included.
Paul's first two solo records were casual, under-rated charmers; his subsequent two LPs seemed lazy and formless. For Band on the Run, Paul took Denny Laine and his wife to Nigeria and holed up until they birthed this best-selling return to rock 'n' roll respectability. For once, Paul frontloads the LP with his best songs, so this opens with a 1-2-3 punch. The title track, the soaring "Jet" and the floating "Bluebird" all became instant rock classics. Nothing else tops those numbers, though "Let Me Roll It" stands up to any of Lennon's slow, sludgy rockers and "1985" is a sonic marvel. This edition adds the hit single "Helen Wheels" and a live TV concert performance.
Valley Hi is the country rock gem that Don Henley and Glenn Frey always dreamed of making, which makes sense because many rock historians believe the Eagles were really just "borrowing" their sound from Ian Matthews, an early member of Fairport Convention who spent the late-'60s and '70s fusing British folk-rock and the California sounds of the Byrds and Buffalo Springfield. But where the Eagles desert-dry soft rock feels prepackaged, Matthews' crystalline roots rock exudes a real humanity, especially when he lets his lonesome tenor soar high above them Sierras.
The Everly Brothers' debut is, hands down, one of the all-time greats. It contains no less than six smash hits. Three of them ("Bye Bye Love," "I Wonder If I Care as Much" and "Wake Up Little Susie") are pop classics. With the release of just a single 12-song record, Don and Phil built a bridge over which the duo transported bluegrass and country music's love for tight harmonies into the land of rock 'n' roll. It's an innovation that would go on to inspire The Beach Boys, The Beatles, The Byrds, Fleetwood Mac, The Jam and beyond -- all the way up to your favorite indie-rock band.
When this album was released in 1965, Roger McGuinn's guitar leads and those unbelievable harmonies effectively made folk-rock the coolest thing on the planet, despite the fact that Dylan wrote most of the good songs here. By taking folk music out of the hootenanny circuit and placing it at center stage, the Byrds made music history right out of the gate.
Early Fairport released some astonishing albums, from Unhalfbricking to Full House. But the group's definitive statement is 1969's Liege & Lief. Bass, drums and guitar open with an ancient druid march. Shortly afterward, Sandy Denny announces the band's intentions: "Come all ye rolling minstrels/ And together we will try/ To rouse the spirit of the air/ And move the rolling skies." This they do on an album that's at times ecstatic, moody, tender and downright mysterious. This is true earth music.
Originally released in 1973, three years after the singer's tragic death, Janis Joplin's Greatest Hits has gone platinum several times over, becoming one of the defining titles of classic rock in the process. In all honesty, it's not a terribly thorough collection, yet in its brevity it does a worthy job of documenting Joplin's radical (if brief) evolution from acid-rock explorer fronting Big Brother & The Holding Co. to soul-blues howler striking out on her own. All the calling cards are present: "Summertime," "Down on Me," "Piece of My Heart" and, of course, the ageless "Me and Bobby McGee."
Released in 1972, Browne's debut album had all the markings of the definitive L.A. songwriter's understated brilliance already in place, revealing a talent that seemed to arrive fully formed. While "Doctor My Eyes" is not his biggest hit, it remains one of his finest songs, and it sits here among a set of characteristically straightforward, insightful pieces.
The oft-overlooked singer/songwriter/genius interpreter dropped this ace in 1971. Screaming along to "Jump Into the Fire" is about as much cathartic fun as a person can handle in one night and "Without You" is about as much operatic sentimentalism as a normal person should be able to handle in a lifetime. "Coconut"Â will be your child's favorite song forever.
The Ronettes' debut is mega-classic -- one of the very best albums of the 1960s. The group had previously released a handful of unsuccessful singles, but it wasn't until they teamed up with "wall of sound" guru Phil Spector that their sound clicked. On landmark recordings "Be My Baby," "Baby, I Love" and "Walking In The Rain" a silky desperation oozes from Ronnie Spector's voice as she attempts to soar above the thrillingly bombastic arrangements. Though a deep cut, "So Young" just might be the most dramatic of the lot, an operatic mediation on youth that's utterly abstract in its minimalism.
In 1972, Nesmith's First National Band had basically ditched him because of poor record sales, and RCA wanted a record RIGHT NOW. So he called up pedal steel maestro Orville "Red" Rhodes, the only guy in the FNB still willing to play with him, and made quite possibly the best record of his long, productive career. On And the Hits Just Keep On Comin' the duo of Nesmith and Rhodes don't commit exquisite country-pop to tape so much as paint it on canvas like a spacious rural landscape.
The Beach Boys' Dennis Wilson released Pacific Ocean Blue in 1977 to strong sales and positive reviews before it sank from view. An aptly named theme album, it contrasts the majesty of the sea with the confusion and turmoil of Wilson's life. The frazzled vibes are matched by music that wraps a slick '70s L.A. studio sheen around the euphoric freakiness of psych-era Beach Boys. The results are kind of like Michael McDonald snorkeling through Bowie's submerged Berlin. The bonus cuts from the unreleased follow-up LP are almost as revelatory. It grows deeper with each listen.
A brilliant singer-songwriter, Emitt Rhodes has been described as a one-man Beatles -- only wealth and fame eluded him. This box set collects all four of Rhodes' official solo albums cut after he left his band the Merry-Go-Round. The young Rhodes recorded almost everything here by himself, with a gift for melancholy melodies and introspective lyrics -- as if Paul had never found domestic bliss with Linda. There's a lot for new listeners to discover, but there's hardly a bum track (standouts: "Love Will Stone You," "Someone Died," "Til the Day After," "The Man He Was," "Only Lovers Decide").
