Personal Space isn't just a superb collection of obscurities; it argues an alternative narrative for soul's evolution: Maybe the genre's warm earthiness didn't totally succumb to the cold, technological drive of disco. Rather, in the years following the rise of Sly and P-Funk, the genre birthed its own sub-movement, one that stressed stridently do-it-yourself recording methods and sonic experimentation. Indeed, the bulk of these tracks are deeply experimental, especially US Aries' phantasmagoric "Are You Ready to Come? (With Me) Pt 1" and The New Year's moody psych-rocker "My Bleeding Wound."
Released in time for the 1972 Christmas market, Hot August Night is ground zero for Diamond's reputation as a total hunk. Rocking shrink-wrap denim and a dense thicket of chest hair, the singer definitely channels the sweaty swagger of Tom Jones. Musically, however, he's all about replicating the end-times bombast of Elvis' Vegas show: schmaltz rockers, soul stirrers and soaring ballads, all of them drenched in strings and percussion. It's a unique vision for sure. Plus, the between-song banter is kind of weird, like supper-club small talk filtered through the hippies' existential profundity.
Though a commercial flop when released in 1970, Robin's Reign now stands as a particular high point in baroque-tinged art pop, right up there with The Bee Gees' own Odessa and (of course) Scott Walker's Scott 4. With its mix of heavy-handed organ, primitive drum machine, orchestration-as-sonic-collage and cathedral-worthy reverb, the record possesses an utterly unique sound: ghostly, distant, lush, even primitive in places. Reeling from The Bee Gees' (temporary) breakup the year prior, Gibb's quivering high tenor is stained in bitterness, melancholy and longing. Gorgeous stuff for sure.
Emerson, Lake & Palmer isn't considered the trio's apex (most fans would opt for Brain Salad Surgery). Yet it does represent the group's most cohesive moment. It doesn't contain a whole lot of bombast, relatively speaking. At this early stage in their career, the group still was concerned with striking balance between their many interests: folk, classical, hard rock, art pop and, of course, synthesized sound effects. The most intense piece is the moody "Knife-Edge"; the most exquisite, meanwhile, is "Take a Pebble," which boasts a country-folk middle section that is really rather mesmerizing.
Though it can be argued Janis never released a classic album, Pearl comes close. Gone are both Big Brother's psychedelia and the sonic excess of Kozmic Blues; in their place is an earthy blend of boogie, hard rock and R&B. It's obvious this is the most comfortable the singer ever felt in the studio. That said, her ragged voice was clearly buckling under the myriad stresses that come with intense liquor/drug use. The peak, of course, is her uncharacteristically subtle "Me and Bobby McGee." This Sessions version contains outtakes and demos revealing Joplin's freewheeling approach to recording.
The first R.E.M. record produced by Scott Litt mixes exuberant rockers with more brooding numbers. The political engagement hinted at in earlier, eco-friendly songs like "Fall On Me" is given freer rein this time out, with mixed results: "Exhuming McCarthy" is so bouncy you don't care what they're singing about, whereas "Welcome to the Occupation" is dull AND didactic.
James Jackson Toth (aka Wooden Wand) has long been adamant that he's a songwriter first and singer second. That may have been true on older albums, but not Briarwood. The record is so fully realized that it's impossible to separate words from voice from music. All three melt into a rumbling goo of rock, country, blues, soul and gospel. This is thick and weary folk music for Middle America. No growth, just day-to-day maintenance: rust, wood paneling and gray skies. The Wand is still a young dude with more music inside him, but don't be surprised if Briarwood goes down as a career highlight.
On the short list of the most important American songwriters ever, Woody Guthrie is best known for "This Land Is Your Land," an anthem taught to American children to inculcate national pride, though the version here features stanzas not taught in school -- specifically, lyrics about governmental hypocrisy and the country's class struggle. This comprehensive collection includes Guthrie's most important, as well as his most fun, songs. You can practically hear Bob Dylan, Townes Van Zandt, Phil Ochs -- everybody -- being born in this music.
Listening to this rich union of artistic endeavor and commercial viability was a rite of passage for suburban teenagers during the '80s. Using themes every teen can relate to (isolation, betrayal, anti-homework-ism), Roger Waters delivered a record, stage show and film that, while of questionable taste, was undeniably what the kids were after in 1979. This three-disc re-issue offers a remastering of the entire album, plus 27 demos recorded as the band was constructing The Wall. Opening demo "Prelude" sounds like something off Obscured by Clouds and is awesome.
These rare home recordings -- made at Karen Dalton's Colorado cabin in 1966, but "lost" for the next five decades -- capture the folk singer at her most private and vulnerable. There are a handful of deep moments. The phantom rendition of "Cotton Eyed Joe" makes you wish you were a fly on the wall; the Fred Neil covers, "Other Side to This Life" and "Little Bit of Rain," are equally touching. Other stuff isn't so sublime: Her version of Tim Hardin's "Don't Make Promises" feels less like performance and more like rehearsal. As for fidelity, it's fuzzy in spots, but warm and intimate overall.
Ram keeps the mellow, pastoral, self-recorded feel of Paul's solo debut and mixes in some gruff boogie rock and the kind of fluid, orchestral pop that he cut with the Beatles. The multi-part "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey" has to be the goofiest (and coolest) No. 1 single ever, while "Too Many People" and "The Back Seat of My Car" are two overlooked gems. The lovely "Dear Boy" was meant as a rebuke to Linda's first husband, but Lennon took it as an attack and started writing anti-Paul songs. Whatever -- Band on the Run is the remembered classic but Ram may be Paul's best all around solo LP.
Man Chest Hair is an absolutely awesome title -- appropriate, too. What we have here is a seriously motley collection of hard rock, biker rock and funky blues-boogie from 1970s Manchester. (The dudes in Joy Division most certainly weren't listening to these savages!) Get a load of these band names: Greasy Bear? Slipped Disc?? Socrates??? Not surprisingly, their jamming sounds like a blend of Steppenwolf, Bad Company and mighty Led Zeppelin. This can only be a good thing, if you're a fan of big riffs, primal drumming and British dudes howling about how they love their women real good.
By the end of the 1970s, Sparks' quirky art rock had run its course; 1977's Introducing Sparks was their first real dud. So, they did what all great artists do: reinvent themselves. Produced by Italian-disco maestro Giorgio Moroder, the electronically tinged No. 1 In Heaven is as gorgeous and prescient as it is brainy and acerbic. Over sweeping arpeggiations and pulsating 4/4 beats, the Mael brothers spin yarns about social Darwinism, crass commercialism and sexual obsession. In a lot of ways the album mapped out the '80s (from new wave to synth pop) before the decade even began.
Released at the beginning of 1971, Elvis Country is a misleading title. Elvis Tackles the Entirety of the Southern Music Experience in One Fell Swoop would've been more accurate. Country music might serve as Presley's backdrop for these vital recordings, but being a master "synthesist," he manages to incorporate elements of bluegrass, soul, rockabilly, blues, Western swing, gospel and even old time. What's amazing is the fact that he and his band (a who's who of Southern legends, including James Burton, Eddie Hinton and David Briggs) committed this music to tape live in the studio. Amazing!
A smorgasbord of previously unreleased recordings from the Mothers, Weasels Ripped My Flesh unfolds like a single, sprawling collage (albeit one riddled with schizoid juxtaposition and Dada-inspired pranksterism). In just the first three cuts, avant-garde jazz ("Didja Get Any Onya?") makes way for space blues ("Directly From My Heart to You"), which crumbles into stoned-opera madness ("Prelude to the Afternoon of a Sexually Aroused Gas Mask"). Later on Zappa unleashes "My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama," a distillation of the weirdo's psychogeniusartgarbage aesthetic in under four minutes.
Free Again is a crucial document, shedding as it does light on that shadowy phase in young Alex Chilton's career during which his time with The Box Tops was drawing to a close but before he had teamed up with Chris Bell. These passionately loose, some would say almost tossed off, recordings are closest in spirit to the post-Big Star Like Flies On Sherbert. This is Chilton filtering roots music (soul, blues, country) through his eccentric rock 'n' roll fantasy. The Stones might've written "Jumpin' Jack Flash," but with the menacing version herein, Chilton makes it his own -- pure dark energy.
From Television Personalities to The Pastels, early-'80s Great Britain was a fabulous place for lo-fi pop sounding as if it was recorded on cheap boomboxes, inside echo-laden public restrooms. Another key player in this movement was one Martin Newell, whose Cleaners From Venus project dropped a slew of excellent cassettes, singles and LPs at the time. One of the very best, in fact, is Midnight Cleaners. Split between deliciously melancholic jangle ("Wivenhoe Bells (II)") and avant-oddities (the sax-laced title track), it's a well-balanced presentation of the musician's eccentric vision.
Searching for Sugar Man is the soundtrack to Swedish director Malik Bendjelloul's inspirational documentary about Rodriguez, the cult artist whose life and music has been shrouded in myth, rumor and disinformation since the early '70s. The impeccable track list has been culled from the singer-songwriter's original two albums: 1970's Cold Fact and the following year's Coming From Reality. The result is the perfect introduction to Rodriguez's striking and at times brilliant fusion of folk-rock, psychedelic pop and soul music.
There is no denying that regardless of the critical snorting rap-metal tended to elicit when this neutron bomb of a debut first blew car-radio speakers in 1992, just the name of this band was (and remains) subversive, and their agenda was unflinchingly anti-everything. Plus, their music was the loudest anywhere, and the super-funk guitar heaviness -- with Zack de la Rocha rapping the "F" word at the top of his lungs over it all -- positively demanded involuntary movement. This anniversary edition features a complete remaster, with a second disc of almost all the songs in demo form.
By searching out South African musicians and collaborators, Paul Simon reconnected with both his audience and the joy of making music. This life-affirming album saw Simon abandoning confessional lyrics while maintaining a personal vision. Such fine songs as "Boy in the Bubble," "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" and "Graceland" have lived on long past any controversy the album once encountered. In addition to several process-revealing demos, the 25th anniversary edition of Graceland contains a nearly 10-minute chat with Simon who revisits key moments in the music's storied genesis.
It's difficult to believe Strange Euphoria is the first box set dedicated to Heart, one of classic rock's most celebrated acts. Luckily, longtime fans won't be disappointed with its unorthodox programming. For many of their biggest hits (including "Barracuda," "Magic Man" and "Crazy on You") Heart chose to include demo and live versions. These are definitely cool to hear. So are the myriad recordings from the Wilson sisters' other projects, namely Ann Wilson & The Daybreaks and The Lovemongers. This more acoustic-flavored stuff shows off West Coast folk-rock's profound influence on them.
This six-disc orgy of Velvets material features both stereo and mono remasters of the original album; Nico's first solo effort , Chelsea Girl; the singles that nobody heard; alternate versions of select cuts; recording sessions that were only available as pricey bootlegs; and a live show from 1966 that opens with a 28-minute early version of “Sister Ray” called "Melody Laughter" and closes with another 28-minute freakout. Of course, the live cuts sound like they were recorded from underneath the club, but this is VU in 1966 -- there simply isn't much music more influential than this.
The Lost Tapes isn't essential Can, in all honesty. Rather, the boxed set offers a deep-listening experience for those fans who have memorized the band's classic albums: Monster Movie, Tago Mago, Ege Bamyasi, Future Days, Soon Over Babaluma. The tracks -- all previously unreleased, all dating from the 1968 to '77 zone -- aren't demos per se, more like finished songs that are good but not great (thus explaining why they were lost). The most revealing stuff is the live material. As both "Mushroom" and "One More Saturday Night" prove, Can were significantly more greasy and gritty when onstage.
Big ups to the Light In The Attic imprint for reissuing this lost gem from 1979. Donnie and Joe Emerson were high school kids living in deep-rural Washington state when they privately pressed Dreamin' Wild. A mélange of AM oldies, country-soul, soft rock and funk, its homemade vibe is wildly prescient; it's almost as if the Emerson brothers somehow knew they were destined to play the role of bridge between Hall & Oates and lo-fi oddity Ariel Pink. Needless to say, there isn't a whole lot of musical proficiency here, but that lack only adds to the magic emanating from this cool little record.
