Rock

Legendary glam rockers who originated in Finland and took the Sunset Strip scene by storm with this, their sixth album overall and first on a major worldwide label. Sadly it was the last album for drummer Razzle, who was famously killed in a car crash in which Motley Crue’s Vince Neil was driving. By 1985 the Rocks had split, but they came back a few years ago to tour and record again. This album showcases a band that were true pioneers of the LA hard rock sound, inspiring the likes of LA Guns and GNR.

Highly recommended! —Fletchanator

Jobriath’s self-titled 1973 debut received positive notices, but the ensuing publicity hype all but sunk the artist’s critical reputation. He’d delivered the musical goods, but his manager’s hype machine and a failed-to-materialized grand tour of European opera houses hung over this follow-up like a rain cloud. The notoriety that greeted the first openly gay rock star’s debut had turned to scorn and apathy, resulting in little notice of a sophomore album that featured some wonderfully crafted, dramatic glam-rock. It probably didn’t help that Jobriath’s manager stuck his name in the credits as “Jerry Brandt Presents Jobraith in Creatures of the Street,” and suggested the album was a romantic comedy.

Co-producing once more with engineer Eddie Kramer, Jobriath’s second album’s broadens his reach with additional orchestrations and showy production touches. He continues to sing in a high register, retaining a tonal resemblance to Mick Jagger and Mott the Hoople’s Ian Hunter, but here he adds gospel and classical elements to both the vocal arrangements and his piano playing. Despite suggestions that this was a concept album, the concept remains obscure. Still, much of the album sounds as if it were a cast album to a stage musical with rock-opera pretensions. “Street Corner Love” is rendered as mannered show rock, and the stagey “Dietrich/Fondyke” combines a full orchestral arrangement, piano flourishes and a female chorus into a dramatic splash of film nostalgia. The funky “Good Times” sounds as if its tribal-rock vibe was lifted from “Hair” – a period play in which Jobriath had performed a few years earlier.

More inventively, the grittily-titled “Scumbag” is rendered as the sort of music hall country-folk the Kinks recorded in the early 1970s, and Jobriath’s orchestration for “What a Pretty” is impressively threatening. Only a few songs, “Ooh La La” and “Sister Sue,” break free of the theatricality to stand on their own as glam-rock. There are many similarities to Jobriath’s debut here, but the overall result is more fragmented and contains few nods to radio-ready compositions. After promotional fiascos consumed Jobriath’s debut, there seemed to be no interest in commercial pretensions on what would be his swansong. Dropped by both his manager and label, he retreated from the music industry, reappearing a few years later as a lounge singer named “Cole Berlin,” and passing away largely unnoticed in 1983. With the reissue of his two Elektra albums, modern-day listeners can hear his music in place of his hype, and the music – particularly the debut album – is worth hearing. —hyperbolium

With the ambitious Hemispheres, Rush seemed to have reached the end of a particularly windy road. Permanent Waves’ relatively scaled-back sound and down to earth lyrics marked a major shift in the band’s style. The album kicks off with the electrifying “The Spirit of Radio,” a track that eloquently captures the adrenaline “rush” of a cranked stereo and the open road, while noting all that glitters is not gold. With this single, Rush spoke directly to their denim clad audience more clearly and passionately than in any of their escapist epics, and were rewarded with one of their most enduring FM classics. Not letting up, “Freewill” delivers another future staple in a deceptively accessible burst of brilliantly knotty licks driving a stirring rejection of fate and superstition. Side one closes with the militaristic march of “Jacob’s Ladder,” it’s complex music contrasting a simple and effective lyric. Side two continues to ride the crest of Permanent Waves with two articulate musings on humanity with the ballad “Different Strings” and the bold “Entre Nous.” The album reaches a strong conclusion in the three-part “Natural Science,” a constantly shifting, wide-eyed reflection on scientific ideology. Free of the weight of their sci-fi fantasy baggage, Permanent Waves is an album that seeps into one’s consciousness with a relaxed ease, and points toward the direction of Rush’s finest works to come. —Ben

The no-frills cover shot of the heads-down Status Quo frontline on Piledriver tells the story via the show-of-force image and the big, bold group logo in bright red. With no-holds-barred aggression, the major label debut from the boys in blue is a steamrollin’ onslaught of early seventies three chord boogie, blooze and rawk. Recorded live in the studio, the aptly titled Piledriver rolls into action behind the chuggin’ combo platter of “Don’t Waste My Time” and “Oh Baby”, while adding the five-minute slow ridin’ “Unspoken Words”, the chucky drive of “Big Fat Mama”, the short “Paper Plane”, and the lengthy closing cover jam of “Roadhouse Blues”. Pile on! —Jon

In the spring of 1968, Laura Nyro’s Columbia Records debut Eli and the Thirteenth Confession unleashed something very unique and beautiful onto the scene. Unfortunately, the album fell on mostly deaf ears, peaking at #189 on the Billboard 200. Nearly thirty years later, Laura Nyro is still woefully unknown to the public, although the potency of her music remains.

While the instrumentation and influences evident in Eli and the Thirteenth Confession are mostly familiar, new perspectives and directions make the album into the radical experience that it is. Reviewers commonly refer to the music as an amalgamation of Soul, Pop, Jazz, Broadway, and whatever else, but these styles are so expertly fused into something wonderfully new, that naming the possible components just isn’t worthwhile. “Sweet Blindness” may sound age-old, but there’s never been another drinking song remotely like it. “Poverty Train” goes to more places, and back again, than any of Bob Dylan and company’s “protest” songs. Sexual revolutions and all, a woman ending her album by screaming “love my lovething” had to have been something original. Throughout the record, Laura’s voice, piano, and guitars careen and writhe all over, tempos and chord structures being swept to and fro at her pleasing. But originality is only half of the story. The energy and sincerity of Laura’s songs is at once confounding and life-affirming. If we’d like to use the term, Laura Nyro had a hell of a lot of soul. Her voice alone creates much of the appeal of the record, at times sorrowful, grumbling, at times joyful and chirping, but at all times infinitely human.

This is a definition of a master in one space in time, and a model for the kind of innovations that can be borne of Popular music. Maybe in another thirty years Laura will have the audience she always deserved. —Matthew

It is hard to believe that upon its release in 1971, Bark was poorly reviewed. In retrospect, its musical closeness to Jefferson Airplane’s earlier work, especially 1969’s Volunteers, is striking. “When the Earth Moves Again” is a collective, anthemic song in the same mould and of the same quality as “We Can Be Together,” and “Crazy Miranda” is clearly by the author of “rejoyce.” What makes Bark special is the move of Slick and the astonishingly under-valued Jorma Kaukonen to the foreground and the new casual, almost frayed approach to performing and recording. Also new is a shift away from the already-qualified counter-culture sentiments of Volunteers towards a more resigned, knowing worldview: “Third Week in the Chelsea” is painful in its directness, but gorgeous in its craftsmanship and execution; Slick’s “Law Man” projects a tired, slightly annoyed, spirit that Slick could tap into so well. New to the band was the funky and sensual punch of tunes like “Feel So Good” and “Pretty As You Feel,” which project a randy-to-sultry adult sexuality absent from their more whimsical “love” songs of the ’60s. Confirms that the early ’70s were the high water mark for the extended Airplane family. —Toolshed4

Houses of the Holy finds Led Zeppelin happily accepting their status as king of the mountain rock gods, operating on a level far above and beyond the bluesy cock-rock of their contemporaries. A grander Zeppelin is on display from the get go, with Page’s swooping battalion of guitars and Plant’s sped up elfin vocals sending “The Song Remains the Same” on a whirlwind tour of the stars, while epic entries like the lush, mellotron orchestrated “The Rain Song” and eerie creeper “No Quarter” prowl similarly heady terrain. The acoustic ditty turned bruiser “Over the Hills and Far Away,” Bonham stomp of “The Ocean,” and summer nights hippie haze of “Dancing Days” provide more folds to the Zeppelin mystique, while tongue in cheek offerings like the reggae meets 50’s doo-wop of “D’yer Mak’er” and funky filler “The Crunge” find the band working well outside the box. Factor in the album’s beefy, yet crystalline production job, and their most bizarre album graphics yet, and Houses of the Holy solidifies Zeppelin’s lofty stature. —Ben