Rock

AC/DC “Highway to Hell” (1979)

1979’s Highway to Hell is Australian Proto-Metal/Hard Rock band AC/DC’s high water mark. And last album ever recorded with their fantastic original Vocalist, Bon Scott. There is nothing fancy or the least bit pretentious here. this album is raw, driving, in your face Hard and Heavy Guitar Rock. Some of the greatest and most powerful songs AC/DC ever recorded over a long career are right here. Including the amazing, simmering ode to danger and terror Night Prowler, and the epic aggro-fest If You Want Blood You Got It. Then there’s the blazing and unrepentant title track, the snarling Shot Down In Flames and raunchy Love Hungry Man. If You only own one AC/DC album it needs to be Highway To Hell, this defines the word classic. —Karl

Peter Green “The End of the Game” (1970)

Where has this album been all my life? I’ve heard a lot of Peter Green, but never anything quite like this. Free-form jazz/rock – hard psych – blues-rock with some of the most wicked guitar work you’ll ever hear. In fact, all of the musicians put on amazing performances, even though Green’s blistering guitar is the stand-out.

Each track here is instrumental, and each carries its own flavor. The opener, Bottom’s Up, features a driving blues-rock jam with Green running cricles around his fretboard. Timeless Time is slower, more psychedelic in nature, with a slight avant-garde jazz feeling. Descending scale is another psychedelic workout that’s more like a trip than a song, with each player finding room to explore. Burnt Foot is a more straight ahead, driving heavy blues rock piece with some heavy drumming and killer bass lines. Hidden Game starts out sounding almost like mid 70’s jammin’ Grateful Dead, with Green’s guitar tone eerily like Jerry’s. Then the song slows down and becomes yet another psychedelic soaked ride, reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s more piano dominated tracks, with a slow yet wicked solo. The final cut, and title track, The End of the Game, is simply a masterpiece. Green and company break out the free-form element in the extreme. Green’s guitar howls, moans, wails, cries and even sighs, all the while surrounded by hazy bass and crashing, scattered drumming.

However impressed I had been with the great guitar work of Mr. Peter Green, after hearing this gem of an album I’m even more impressed. Highly recommended. —Doug

Paul Kantner & Jefferson Starship “Blows Against the Empire” (1970)

If you’re an Airplane fan, you want to give this one a try. Yes, this is the earliest album to use the “Jefferson Starship” name, but it’s not the first official Starship album, this is simply a Paul Kantner solo project in between Airplane albums (Volunteers, Bark) with an all-star cast of musicians helping out with the name Jefferson Starship (including several Airplane members like Grace Slick, Jack Casady, Joey Covington as well as three Dead members, Jerry Garcia, Bill Kreutzmann, and Mickey Hart, plus David Crosby and Graham Nash, and ex-Quicksilver Messenger member and future Airplane/Jefferson Starship member David Freiberg, plus Peter Kaukonen, Jorma’s brother). The Airplane at this point was in flux having just lost Marty Balin and Spencer Dryden, so this gave Kantner the idea for a solo project. Luckily the music has much more in common with the Airplane sound circa Volunteers, so if you’re fearing a precursor to the Red Octopus sound, don’t worry, Pete Sears and Craig Chaquico ain’t here! Not to mention no Papa John Creach. To me, Blows Against the Empire is one of the last great West Coast psych albums. 1970 was obviously difficult times for the counterculture, as it was pretty much on decline, no doubt helped by the Kent State shootings, so this album was basically about a bunch of hippies who hijack a starship to sail off to the stars because they no longer feel welcomed on Earth. The album was nominated for a sci-fi Hugo Award, but didn’t win. Strange that an album of recorded music would be nominated by such an award.

“The Baby Tree” is a silly little folk-number about babies growing on trees while “Let’s Go Together” sounds like a missing number from Volunteers. “A Child is Coming” is a nice pleasant acoustic number, which seemed to coincide to Grace Slick having a child that was to be born (China Kantner). “Hijack” is a totally wonderful epic number, where the band almost enters prog rock territory near the end with some wonderful use of piano. There’s a couple of short pieces that simulate the sounds of a starship taking off, oddly they remind me of such Krautrock groups of the time like Ash Ra Tempel or early Tangerine Dream. “Have You Seen the Stars Tonight” is the group exploring space rock with spacy psychedelic effects. It reminds me a tad of Crosby, Stills & Nash, but then Crosby and Nash do appear on this album. “Starship” sounds like how the Dead and Airplane might sound like if they teamed together as you hear a strong Dead/Airplane sound to this piece (not to mention Jerry Garcia giving his trademark lead guitars).

A totally wonderful, if often underrated album of West Coast psychedelia which I highly recommend. —Ben

Diga Rhythm Band “Diga” (1976)

In each of Mickey Hart’s albums, the artist submerges himself within a concept and reinvents himself through the project dujour. Hart’s rhythmic journey as recorded in the studio has created some duds and crafted some gems. Fortunately, the Diga Rhythm Band produced one of his jewels. In this project, Hart’s focus was on the sounds of India. That written, vibes and marimbas are the primary musical instruments on “Diga” -neither of which are Indian and no attempt is made to have them play Indian melodies. The absence of sitars on such a project almost seems odd. Unless the listener is expecting classical Indian sounds, this isn’t necessarily a drawback. With respect to authenticity, Mickey Hart always produces his albums in a way that makes ethnic music more accessible to Western ears. In other words, this isn’t Indian music, it’s really World Music. When it came to the sounds of India, Hart’s focus was on rhythm; the tablas are the main vehicle. ‘Razooli’ sounds like it could be an outtake from the Grateful Dead’s “Blues for Allah.” ‘Sweet Sixteen’ is so sugary, it’s difficult not to describe it as ‘World Pop.’ Jerry Garcia plays ‘Happiness Is Drumming’ as if it were a prototype version of ‘Fire on the Mountain.’ In terms of rhythm, ‘Magnificent Sevens’ is the most accomplished composition. The song showcases the group’s improvisation within the Diga Rhythm Band’s most challenging arrangement. As a drum album, the percussion is stellar thanks in part to Zakir Hussain’s nimble hands. Easy to listen to, “Diga” delivers Indian infused World Music. —The Delite Rancher

Quicksilver Messenger Service “Shady Grove” (1969)

The first two Quicksilver albums are among the classics of the era. No doubt about it. They had a great talent for long, exploratory jams that really took you on that acid trip. When Gary Duncan left after 1968, it looked like the end. He was such an integral part of the band, how could they continue without him. Well, only the addition of a world class musician could save the band and that’s what happened when Nicky Hopkins, who had been living in San Francisco and recording with Steve Miller and Jefferson Airplane, decided to actually join a band. What an honor for Quicksilver that he chose them.

Okay, look, there’s no way this album could sound the same. But, that’s what’s great about bands…people come, people go, the music changes, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. This album has none of the feel of the first two but it stands on its own as a fine recording. From the opening Hopkins blast on Shady Grove, to the achingly beautiful drawing room/salon type solo on Flute Song, to the countrified leanings of David Freiberg on Words Can’t Say, right up to the grandiloquent opening to the ultimate Hopkins opus, Edward, the Mad Shirt Grinder, this album has a lot going on musically. Many Quicksilver enthusiasts dismiss this album because Hopkins so thoroughly dominates the proceedings as to make the band almost secondary. That may be true, but the results are still extraordinary. —Sekander

Zuider Zee “Zuider Zee” (1975)

During their existence, Zuider Zee stood as one of Memphis’ more talented (if lesser known) contributions to mid-’70s power-pop. They’re also one of those bands that deserved far greater recognition than they were given. Kim Foreman and Richard Orange originally came together in Louisiana, cutting their first record as members of Thomas Edison’s Electric Light Bulb Band. By 1969 they’d picked up a mentor in the form of manager Leland Russell, along with a new name. Relocating to Memphis, the band started playing local clubs. A 1973 showcase for Elektra failed to score a contract, but within a year they’d recruited a new drummer (Robert Hall) and signed with Columbia.

Their 1975 eleven track debut is a truly engaging set of UK-flavored power-pop. Imagine the best of Badfinger’s Pete Ham, or perhaps 10cc’s Eric Stewart doing their best Paul McCartney impressions and you’ll get a feel for the musical landscape. While “Zuider Zee” may not have been the year’s most original album, the set had more than it’s share of pleasures, including the Rickenbacher-propelled rocker ‘Zeebra’, ‘You’re Not Thinking’ and the slightly ominous Haunter of Darkness”. Normally a Paul McCartney comparison serves as a creative kiss of death, but Orange was among the few guys who could actually pull it off (Emitt Rhodes also readily coming to mind). Orange had a great voice which was particularly appealing on songs like the rocker ‘Rubber Men’ when he employed his raspy edge (imagine McCartney’s vocal on ‘Helter Skelter’). Skeptical of that description? Close your eyes and check out Orange’s truly uncanny McCartney-like deliveries on the rockers ‘She-Swing’ and ‘The Breaks’ (the latter sounding like something from “Band On the Run”). A package of great melodies and excellent guitar made this a pleasure for anyone who enjoyed Badfinger or The Raspberries catalogs.

From a marketing perspective having spent a fortune recording the LP, Columbia’s promotional and marketing scheme was curious. Credit Columbia’s art department with coming up with one of the year’s most unimaginative covers. Columbia decided not to tap the album for a single. Tour support was lukewarm at best, the band opening for a staggering array of acts ranging from Caravan (???) to The Tubes. Coupled with a pseudo-glam image that may have been a tad fey for many mid-1970s American audiences and in an era of punk aggression and disco madness the album vanished without a trace.

The final blow came in December 1976 when bassist Bonar interrupted a group of thieves trying to steal the band’s van. Beaten and stabbed, he was lucky to survive the attack. The band effectively collapsed when the other members refused to continue touring with a replacement while Bonar underwent extensive physical therapy. —Scott Blackerby

Deep Purple “Fireball” (1971)

Deep Purple’s 1971 and 1972 releases were a true one two punch of Deep Purple’s Metallic might at the very height of their prowess. The first, 1971’s Fireball was, outside of Black Sabbath’s first three albums, the heaviest thing on the planet at that time. Fireball’s songs are towering, crunching, Proto-Metal monsters of the highest order. The album is built around one of the greatest songs of Heavy Metal’s original Era, the invincible Demon’s Eye. It’s kind of difficult to discuss the individual musical performance of Fireball because they are all so good. Deep Purple Mark II was a super tight cohesive unit at this point, and everyone in the band is at their individual apex. The Mule is simply incredible. Fools cooks. No One Came is astoundingly good. Anyone’s Daughter is pure fun. And No No No is fantastic. Five utterly perfect stars. —Karl

Van Dyke Parks “Song Cycles” (1968)

In 1968 Warner Brothers were preparing to make pop music history by releasing an album by a young musician and songwriter called Van Dyke Parks. Song Cycle’s budget at the time made it the most expensive album ever recorded back then. The Warner bosses weren’t worried, they knew it was going to be the biggest thing since Sgt. Pepper and probably bigger. They were wrong, they were very wrong.

When Song Cycle was released it just didn’t sell. It had received unprecedented pre-release rave reviews saying it things like: “The most important, creative and advanced pop recording since Sgt Pepper”; “a work of creative genius”; “the most vital piece of musical Americana since Gershwin”. Parks also had an impressive pedigree as a musician on The Byrds ‘5D’ and the first Tim Buckley album; songwriter for Harpers Bizarre and others; a musical arranger on Disney’s ‘The Jungle Book’ and most famously as a collaborator with Beached Boy Brian Wilson. Despite the advance press and the pedigree it’s hard to see how on earth Warners thought this was going to be a real big seller. It is undoubtedly a work of unique vision and ambition. Truly a masterpiece but with zero “radio friendly” 3 minute sound bites packed with catchy hooks. Even today Song Cycle is not an easy listening experience but it is a challenging and ultimately rewarding one.

I can think of no other record like it. Song Cycle is a musical travelogue, a sonic trip across the America of Mark Twain, John Steinbeck, Busby Berkeley musicals and John Ford Westerns. It has moments of real beauty such as ‘The All Golden’ and ‘Donavan’s Colours’ but just as you’re beginning to feel like you know which direction you’re moving in, it whisks you up like a hayseed in the wind and then lands you somewhere completely different.

Warner Brothers reaction to the lack of sales was a strange but entertaining one. They started to run a series of adverts in the press stating they didn’t care they, ‘lost $$,$$$ on the album of the year’, because it was a great album and people shouldn’t worry about them, as they could afford it as they were making lots of money from lesser artists. Then they offered people the chance to send their worn copies of the album with one penny to Warners and they would send back two new copies, ‘one to educate a friend with’. After all they had so many copies pressed up. Whether or not this reaction by Warners was a bluff or not they have stuck by Van Dyke Parks, continuing to finance his self indulgent, uncommercial but often wonderful fare. The latest of these releases being a collaboration with Brian Wilson ‘Orange Crate Art’. For me ‘Song Cycle’ remains his finest work. —D Stewart

Electric Light Orchestra “Time” (1981)

Time is a concept album, a story of a guy who is taken from 1981 and dumped in 2095 by time travelers. Despite driving “the latest hover car” and having a robotic replica of his 1981 sweetheart, he yearns for his life back in the early 80s (don’t we all?) and begs to be taken back. It was a radical departure from Lynne, it really shouldn’t work, yet it’s a fantastic album. The story is short and well versed, the melodies are as crisp and catchy as any of Lynne’s 70s output and the production is superb. It also boasts some of ELO’s greatest singles, including the brilliant Hold On Tight. —Mogs

Black Sabbath “Black Sabbath” (1970)

Hearing Black Sabbath for the first time was like dusting off and cracking open some ancient tome of infernal knowledge, with a nefarious collection of witches, warlocks, and Lucifer himself lurking around the corners of songs like “N.I.B.,” “The Wizard,” the chilling paralysis of “Behind the Wall of Sleep,” eerie acoustic drift “Sleeping Village,” and of course “Black Sabbath,” it’s diabolus in musica riff cracking open the egg on this thing called heavy metal. Hiding behind that hazy, creepy cover shot was a suite like arrangement of songs almost entirely devoted to exploring supernatural fears, rife with horror-themed imagery and the threat of unseen evil, delivered with a crushing blow rendered in stark, black and white production. Though the album drifts in it’s second act, with the extended workout on Retaliation’s “Warning” and a primitive Crow cover, “Evil Woman,” appearing on UK issues, US audiences were treated to the superior, stoned rumblings of “Wicked World.” Castle’s 1996 CD contains both tracks, though missing in action on this and subsequent Sabbath reissues are subtitles like “Wasp,” “Bassically” and “A Bit of Finger,” originally appended to the US release to pull in more publishing royalties to the band, but just adding another layer of enigma for those of us already lost in the forest, with nowhere to run as the figure in black drew closer. —Ben

Harry Nilsson “Pussy Cats” (1974)

I’ve always been maddened by Nilsson albums. They are so schizophrenic in musical and tonal approach that I’ve often found it hard to take them all that seriously. On Pussy Cats–famously produced by John Lennon–Nilsson manages to retain (for the most part) emotional consistency. It is a wistful, almost sad album, that wreaks of mental and physical exhaustion. Nilsson’s vocal cords were apparently injured during the sessions for the album, and the result isn’t all that apparent save for the unusual gruffness of his voice here. Years of hard partying with the likes of Keith Moon, Lennon, and Ringo Starr could not have helped matters either. Surprisingly, Lennon’s work as a producer has a distinctive character. Compared with his then-recent efforts, Walls and Bridges and Rock ‘n’ Roll, Pussy Cats bears a remarkable dedication of purpose. His arrangements really add depth to tracks like Jimmy Cliff’s “Many Rivers to Cross,” his own composition “Don’t Forget Me,” and his transcendent take on “Save the Last Dance for Me.” The relative dolorousness of these cuts is balanced out with upbeat takes on Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” the classic “Loop de Loop,” and Bill Haley’s “Rock Around the Clock.” Not everything works on here (see “All My Life” and “Old Forgotten Soldier”). But this time, Nilsson’s more goofy tendencies (think “Coconut”) aren’t an anchor on the record. Though often derided as “the beginning of the end” of Nilsson’s years of peak productivity, Pussy Cats is a record in need of a critical revisitation. —Yerblues

Moby Grape “‘69” (1969)

“We have promised each other no more gimmicks, no more hypes, no egos, nothing ever again but the music…” So read the sleeve notes of Moby Grape’s third studio album (or fourth, if you count the listless, blues-noodling Wow leftovers of Grape Jam). Talk about a band with self-esteem issues!

Certainly, by the end of the ’60s the Grape did have a lot to be sorry for, and their bad luck of biblical proportions is now the stuff of legend. Their 1967 debut album, one of the best of the decade–or perhaps ever–was buried under an avalanche of one of the most idiotic major label marketing campaigns in the history of the recording industry. Its follow-up, Wow, eschewed their trademark punchy and concise triple guitar attack in favor of studio gimmickry and various period excesses (although it is still worth a listen). Along the way, they lost their driving creative force, Skip Spence, when, during one of Wow’s recording sessions, the increasingly drug-addled and unstable guitarist tried to kill drummer Don Stevenson with an axe. (Thankfully, he failed). It’s a wonder that Moby Grape was able to continue on at all, but in 1969 they returned to the studio, sans Spence, in an attempt to redeem themselves. Surprisingly, this last ditch effort birthed a minor masterpiece.

’69 has no business being as good as it is, but against all odds it’s a triumph, a record that reminds us of what made Moby Grape so great in the first place. “Ooh Mama Ooh”, showcases the band’s playful side and inimitable harmonies, with a surprising twist: Its doo-wop choruses reflect the 50s nostalgia beginning to permeate the pop-culture subconscious at the time. “Trucking Man” rocks equally as hard as “Omaha” or any of the other uptempo tracks on their debut. But perhaps ’69’s greatest strength is its ballads. “Ain’t that a Shame” and “I’m Not Willing” prove Moby Grape to be masterful early adopters of country rock, these songs’ very presence alone placing ’69 in the canon alongside Sweetheart of the Rodeo and The Gilded Palace of Sin. Conspicuous in his absence throughout most of this is Spence, but the album’s final track,”Seeing”, gives him the last word. With parts of the track recorded shortly before his admittance to a mental hospital, his fragile and damaged vocals, coupled with roaring guitars, comprise one of the era’s most darkly psychedelic epics.

One would think that after this return to form that great things lay ahead, but for Moby Grape, twas ever thus. Bassist Bob Mosely was the next to lose his mind, shocking his bandmates by cutting his hair and joining the Marines. Now down to a trio, Moby Grape returned to the studio in 1970 to record Truly Fine Citizen, another album that should have been a lot worse than it was considering the circumstances. But despite some inspired moments, as a whole it showed the mojo beginning to fade. It lacked the shine and fleeting optimism of what came before, thus cementing ‘69’s place in history as the last moment of true genius for a band who should have had many more. —Richard P