Rock

Game Theory “Lolita Nation” (1987)

Power Pop Eden indeed. Being so extremely tough to come by and, since indeed it is sprawling as can get, Lolita Nation has been gaining a reputation of being a lost masterpiece of sorts, kinda in the same way that Big Star’s third record took forever to see the light of day. Well, it might not be as “where have you been all of my life” impactant as Alex Chilton’s notoriously damaged “Third/Sister Lovers” but across its 27 tracks there’s plenty for power pop fans to rejoice with. Relatively to their previous albums this one posesses a harder edge, with tunes like “Dripping with Looks” beginning to show a toughening process that clearly anticipates Scott’s future work with Loud Family. The two records Game Theory released leading up to “Lolita Nation” are surely much easier to approach but there’s an undeniable charm and an endearing quality to Miller’s craft, having a wispy voice at best he comes up trumps with immensely imaginative arrangements and oddly hummable tunes (The World’s Easiest Job, the fabulous Chardonnay) to form a colossal, irregular yet ultimately wholly appealing piece of music. —Johnny

Bob Dylan “Street Legel” (1978)

“Street Legal” might be the most underrated album I’ve encountered yet. It contains some of the most urgent, artistically triumphant, thoroughly stellar, and endlessly ruminating poetry-music of Bob Dylan’s career. After purchasing this album, I had first considered it a guilty pleasure of mine. This is, of course, because I had read endlessly about how dismal it was. Still, there was a certain unpleasant odor about all of these reviews that had led me to cultivate my own opinions.

To begin with, the album contains perhaps four of Dylan’s major triumphs. These are “Changing of the Guards,” “No Time to Think,” “Senor (Tales of Yankee Power),” and “Where Are You Tonight?.” In my opinion, these compositions stand alongside his better appreciated classics such as “Idiot Wind,” “Desolation Row,” and “Blind Willie McTell.” In these songs, he employs surrealistic, deeply layered, and biblically allusive language to express his exasperated internal state–torn between the deterioration of his spiritualistic love for Sara, a decadent hedonism, and a vision of salvation through god’s mercy. I don’t think that Dylan was ever more mentally agile and artistically focused then on “Street Legal’s” recordings. The rest of the songs, although minor in comparison as poetry, are equally essential parts of this fluid and balanced album. Songs like “Baby Stop Crying,” and “True Love Tends to Forget” take us from the surreal, intellectual landscapes of the major songs directly into the turmoil of the character as he moves closer and closer toward the “Slow Train.” They all play out like scenes from a movie, and are successful in the same way as much of “Blood on the Tracks.”

As for the music, Dylan is performing with one of the finest ensembles of his career. The band captures the spirit of the writing wonderfully and adds to it even more richness and complexity. I also love how the Gospel sound of the background singers seems to capture the religious forces at work, while the sleazy Las Vegas feel of the horns evokes the temptations of lust and hedonism. This is a dense and demanding body of music. —Jeffrey

David Bowie “Station to Station” (1976)

Despite Bowie and his studio associates drowning in a quagmire of cocaine, the beauty and vibrancy of “Station to Station” is breathtaking. Anyone who knows Bowie’ knows he was desperate to escape Los Angeles (the source of his addiction) and in many ways the album is a narrative for his impending departure to Berlin and his artistic rebirth [resulting in the classic Berlin Trilogy of Low, Heroes, and Lodger]. Had he had remained in the US he might have simply become another rock n roll casualty. Side two’s “Wild Is the Wind” must simply be one of the most beautiful and understated love songs of all time. —Pete

Graham Nash “Songs for Beginners” (1971)

In one of the finest years in music, Graham Nash delivered the finest of all Crosby, Stills & Nash solo releases. A true masterpiece, that he could never equal again. Sure, the hit ‘Chicago’ with is famous “we can change the world” is naive and dated, but it gives a good impression about the time in which this song was released. It’s also such an incredibly beautiful song. Great vocals all the way through, and besides ‘Chicago’ as an obvious highlight, there’s also magnificent songwriting in ‘Military Madness’, (“the army had my father and my mother was having me”), ‘Man In The Mirror’, ‘Be Yourself’, ‘There’s Only One’ and ‘I Used To Be A King’ to mention a few. No filler! With work as impressive as this, you would expect that he’d become as great as Neil Young (who plays piano on one track). “Songs For Beginners” is probably as great as Neil’s best albums, and that’s arguably the greatest compliment you can get. —Dominique

Stomu Yamash’ta, Steve Winwood & Michael Shrieve “Go” (1976)

This is the album through which Stomu Yamash’ta finally gained international recognition, not least because of Traffic’s Steve Winwood’s presence. Among the other stars are Michael Shrieve (ex-Santana and you can hear a bit of this influence at times on this album) and not mentioned on the album cover, Al DiMeola and Klaus Schulze.

Slowly rising from naught, first with space whispers, soon transformed into a beautiful melancholic symphonic movement, “Solitude” is a logical introduction to the first sung passage “Nature,” here Winwood’s voice is at it’s best. The first side is a succession of structured songs linked with instrumental passages, be they calm or more heroic/dramatic. While the strings can approach the cheesy, some of the songs can be Santana-esque (courtesy of DiMeola and Shrieve) with a funky touch (much more prominent a feature on next year’s Go Too album), the whole thing works quite well. The flipside gets even better, with the same spacey Schulze intro, later on a slightly dissonant movement including the orchestra and again later a wild funk track Time Is Here with the orchestra playing the rhythm.

Go is one outstanding album that should really be heard by everyone and certainly progheads around the world. —Sean

Donald Fagen “The Nightfly” (1982)

This is one of those albums – like Marquee Moon, like Exile on Main Street – that I’ve always liked, but that the years since my initial purchase have only deepened my appreciation of its qualities. I think that everyone who cares already knows this record, so I’ll just focus in on the things that I dote on the most. First and foremost, we have “I.G.Y.” which is quite possibly the greatest song Fagen ever wrote or will write. Though coming off as an incredible and subtle little pop tune, this one reaches far and wide, offering up a vision of the United States circa 1957 (note – pre-Vietnam conflict, pre-Kennedy/King assassinations), where boundless promise seemed like the norm of the nation and you’d have to admit it, the future looks bright. But to release it in 1982, early on in the Reagan era, it takes on a totally different meaning – not quite the simple sarcastic riposte that it could have been, but more a longing look at what happened in the U.S. between that era of promise and today – with “today” not just meaning 1982, but also 1969, also 2002, also 2006, and probably 2023 as well. It’s an amazing song to me, among the best pop tunes ever, and imbued with a depth and intelligence that lesser songwriters (and novice listeners) would miss entirely. Terrific shit, and it’s only the beginning – “Green Flower Street” seems like a simple love song but glances off racial relations in the process; “Ruby Baby” is probably just a great, soulful cover, but what a cover it is! And the album keeps going like that, sometimes sticking with the personal, sometimes alluding to the political, and sometimes mixing them up to great effect, as in “New Frontier” and “Walk Between Raindrops.” Every song here is a finely crafted masterwork, as you’d expect from one of the brains behind Steely Dan, but I think that this may actually trump most of Dan’s albums for me because Fagen actually sounds less cynical here – even happy. It may be a guarded and cautious happiness, but I know happiness when I hear it, and it is here. —Patrick

Crabby Appleton “Crabby Appleton” (1970)

With a lot of obscure rock bands from the ’60s and ’70s you might be able to pinpoint that one ingredient the band may have been missing in order to grab hold of a large audience or get radio play. With Crabby Appleton, any listener should be at a complete loss for words as to how this band got denied the success they so richly deserved! The band’s 1970 debut for the Elektra label speaks for itself, and loudly at that. From the first cut to the last, there isn’t one musical misstep on this entire L.P.! It is truly a lost gem of the early power-pop genre. Led by Mike Fenelley who teamed up with local L.A. band Stonehenge to form Crabby Appleton, the band’s main strength was their irresistible pop rock sound, but there was much more to the band than just a Top 40 style garnered for mass appeal. How many pop-rock bands could also incorporate a Santana styled percussive section into their music and make it sound completely natural? Or suddenly break out into a little classical based prog-rock without missing a beat? That’s not to say you’re going to have to endure any over the top Santana jams or 30 minute Emerson, Lake, and Palmer solos with Crabby Appleton, just a pinch of each to liven up the mix. Rolling Stone magazine actually gave this album a crowning review when it was released and you know THAT’S saying something. I’m certainly glad I took a chance on this album because I was rewarded GREATLY! —M McKay

Wishbone Ash “Wishbone Ash” (1970)

Wishbone Ash’s self-titled debut album is a triumph of early seventies rock. It successfully merges elements of hard, folk and progressive rock to form an original compound. The album starts with the rocking but somehow stuttering “Blind Eye”. The effect is almost teasing. Next up is the harder, more progressive “Whiskey Lady”. This particular track is like Atomic Rooster in some ways: the singing, some tasty, catchy, heavy riffs, longish instrumental sections and great soloing. But then it’s not as dark as most Atomic Rooster and doesn’t feature Vincent Crane’s Hammond organ. Still, it’s an excellent track and one of my favorites from these guys. This is followed by another progressive piece, “Errors of my Way”. This is altogether much gentler with harmony singing giving it a distinctly folky feel. It’s a lovely track, and another favorite.

The second half is devoted to just two tracks. “Handy” is an almost completely instrumental track at over 11 minutes ling. It hints at some of their beautiful, gentle compositions that were to appear on the next album. This is followed by “Phoenix” another long track (over 10 minutes). This again is an almost all instrumental track. Some of the guitar playing here reminds me of early Fleetwood Mac.

“Wishbone Ash” is a great achievement for 1970. —Jim

Hüsker Dü “New Day Rising” (1985)

Some say Zen Arcade, I say New Day Rising. Although fourteen songs long, it feels shorter due to these guys’ songwriting chops. There’s no fat on this disc. “Folk Lore” could’ve been a seven-minute spiel, but the Hüskers get in a couple impressionistic verses and they’re out. The second-longest track, the four-minute “Celebrated Summer,” is absolutely crucial. If God made a mix CD about nostalgia, etc. Other highlights include the epic opening track, which consists of the boys invoking the titular phrase over and over until you BELIEVE it, and “I Apologize,” perhaps the most moving song ever. One of my top ten all-time. Add to that the perfect love song “Books About UFOs” (its “watch out- wha- whooo!” break segueing into the brief solo still has the power to choke me up). Even the curtsies to hardcore (“Whatcha Drinkin'”, “Powerline”) end up catchier and more grand than most Midwest bands could ever dream about. To this day, slews of bands only get as far as the idea of Hüsker Dü – why would you shortchange the masters? This record is aching for you. — Silent Mike

Neil Young “Tonight’s the Night” (1975)

Neil’s finest record? It’s hard to say, but it’s my personal favorite: strange as only Neil can be, frightening, funny, sad, and sloppy as all-get-out, all the while being beautiful. It has that tossed-off feel that can either make or break a record; and it makes this one, in the same way that Exile on Main St. or the Velvets’ eponymous are made, by sounding so intense and so casual at the same time. Emotional intensity and casualness is a tough combination to arrive at, but, somehow, some can manage it – Neil more often than anyone, I dare say. And I can’t quite say why (though I can begin by remarking on the slide guitar and piano), but “Albuquerque” is my favorite Neil Young song, with that mournful chorus, “Oh, Albuquerque…” However often this album has been described as having the atmosphere of a wake… well, it has the atmosphere of a wake. —Will

The Move “Message From The Country” (1971)

The final album by the Move, Message From the Country, has a scattered feel, in terms of genre, but has seemingly perfect unity. The band shed bassist Rick Price, reducing it to the core trio of Roy Wood, Bev Bevan, and Jeff Lynne: the first lineup of the forthcoming Electric Light Orchestra. The band were rendered a studio-only act, and their newfound sense of freedom and willingness to experiment in the studio are readily apparent here, making this album also not unlike Sgt. Pepper, at least in essence. However, “The Move” was no longer their primary concern, as they were focusing more on making a bold artistic statement with the first ELO album- which was supposedly recorded at the same time. The result is The Move’s most ambitious and comedic record, simultaneously.

This album, quite simply, could have never been re-created onstage by this lineup. This is mostly because Roy Wood essentially would have had to be a band of musicians unto himself, due to his tendencies to overdub a wide variety of instruments. This problem plagued the initial lineup of ELO as a touring entity, but on record, it only helped, especially here. Without Rick Price, Wood even had to take up bass guitar duties. Veterans Ace Kefford and Rick Price were solid, but surprisingly, Roy Wood blows them away on this album. His bass playing is some of the most throbbing, pulsating, and mind-blowing of its time. Even Paul McCartney’s so-called “lead bass” couldn’t hold a candle to Wood’s playing on several of this album’s tracks, especially the chugging “Until Your Mama’s Gone”.

Interestingly, “The Move” and “The Electric Light Orchestra” were two distinct concepts, and though they were one in the same at this time, they sounded quite different. This album has a more rocky sound, featuring jazzy textures, brass, flutes, and Lynne’s honky tonk-ish electric piano. The first ELO album, on the other hand, focuses on stringed instruments, particularly Wood’s grinding take on the cello, with French and hunting horns by Bill Hunt, giving it a murky, almost medieval feel. There is little overlap, as this album has little to no strings, and that album has no brass or jazzy inclinations. This disparity points to the ultimate split between Wood and Lynne after one ELO album. Lynne wanted to use the orchestral approach, and Wood wanted to incorporate a jazzier, early rock & roll element, as he later did in his own group Wizzard. This immense gulf between the band’s two creative geniuses, however, is only obvious in hindsight, and this album is a celebration of their brief but rich partnership.

The song selection is a rich palette of varied genres, only hinted at in the band’s previous album Looking On . Rather than jamming extensively around a smaller set of compositions, the band sets out to make fascinating musical and lyrical vignettes in a relatively short time span per song. This leads to a fuller list of songs, and ultimately, even greater diversity, which is no doubt the basis of the White Album comparisons. The comedic doo wop of “Don’t Mess Me Up”, the riff-laden “Ella James”, the country-tinged Johnny Cash sendup “The Ben Crawly Steel Company” (another fine lead vocal outing for Bev “Bullfrog” Bevan), the alluringly Middle Eastern “It Wasn’t My Idea to Dance”, the goofy, McCartney-esque “My Marge” are all songs that rightfully shouldn’t be on the same record, yet somehow, feed off each other perfectly. The more serious progressive inclinations of Jeff Lynne’s songwriting, as heard on tracks like “Message From the Country”, “No Time”, “The Minister”, and “The Words of Aaron”, keep the album from straying too far into self-parody.

Simply put, this is an unusual album for The Move, and, in many ways, the polar opposite of the first Electric Light Orchestra album… yet it is the absolute perfect missing link between the two groups. It’s dense and experimental, yet loose and fun- definitely a rarity in prog rock, and serves as a testament to why these three brilliant musicians coming together was such a beautiful thing. —Tommy

Nick Gilder “You Know Who You Are” (1977)

“You Know Who You Are” is an irresistible slab of glittery teen lust laid to wax, the castrato vocals of ex-Sweeney Todd singer Nick Gilder the perfect foil for detailing the blue movie diary “Rated X,” the squealing rockshow frenzy of “Backstreet Noise,” and Sunset sleaze of Sweeny Todd cuts “Roxy Roller” and “Tantalize.”

Overall “You Know Who You Are” feels like the aural equivalent of a worn issue of Star, crammed front-to-back with trashy, tasteless pop that buzzes with electric ecstasy of Sweet and steamy glam grooves of classic T-Rex. —Ben