Rock

Electric Light Orchestra “On The Third Day” (1973)

On The Third Day is the best representation of The Electric Light Orchestra’s Symphonic style of Progressive Rock that there is. ELO has never sounded better than this, not even on El Dorado, another highlight of their early, pre-pop discography. This album is an amazing piece of work notable for Jeff Lynne’s compositions, rough vocals and stinging harsh guitar lines which provide a stunningly great counterpoint to the gorgeous beauty of the rest of their music. A lot of what makes The Electric Light Orchestra so great is the wonderful understanding of the use of dynamics and light and shade that Jeff Lynne incorporates into their works. Another big part of this is the ruthless crushing power of underrrated Drummer Bev Bevan. This guy is a wildman! He is so powerful he’d fit in Led Zeppelin or Rush. As it is he totally bashes and overpowers his way though the gorgeous flowing baroque lightness of ELO’s music, providing yet another utterly devastating counterpoint within the music. It is the the beauty and loveliness of the strings and keys set against the ruthless barbarity of Bevan and Lynne that makes ELO so fantastic. —Karl

Iron Maiden “The Number of the Beast” (1982)

This is Heavy Metal before the genre had all of the Rock & Roll stripped away from it. Because it still has those roots, the album is refreshingly soulful and full of rich textures. Not to worry, though, it’s still plenty fast and heavy. “Invaders” crawls under your skin and sticks with you longer than the written-to-be-catchy chorus of the album’s big hit, “Run for the Hills.” Said hit is also a stellar track, however, as is the haunting “Children of the Damned.” Not to put too fine a point on it, but “Number of the Beast” rules! If you think that Iron Maiden is hokey, dated or “Satanic,” and you haven’t actually taken to time to listen to their work, then you are doing yourself a great disservice. Don’t confuse this classic with the throwaway nostalgia that was released by scores of imitators a few years later. Intricate, pounding, powerful and creative – if those are words that describe good music to you, then look no further than “Number of the Beast.” –Lucas

John Martyn “Solid Air” (1973)

Solid Air is an amazingly effective amalgamation of blues, folk, and jazz. Though I can’t think of any album that sounds similar musically, Solid Air reminds me of Astral Weeks because it creates an emotion that is entirely its own. The title track drew me in; Martyn uses his voice like an instrument so it melts into the saxophone part, creating a totally unique sound. The album continued to be a mesmerizing listening experience and it shows off Martyn’s handle of a wide variety of musical styles. “Over The Hill” and “May You Never” are folk masterpieces, the former highlighted by Richard Thompson’s fabulous mandolin performance and the latter with its unforgettable melody. “I’d Rather Be The Devil” and “Dreams By The Sea” are both exciting, menacing tracks that show off Martyn’s skills on electric guitar with his impressive command of the Echoplex guitar effect. The former builds in tension and then crashes down into a peaceful musical section that ends the song on a serene note. The latter recreates some of the jazzy atmosphere of the title track with another fantastic saxophone part. “Don’t Want To Know,” “Go Down Easy” and “Man In The Station” are mellow but engaging folk tracks where the combination of Martyn’s voice and the tinkling instrumental parts are quite soothing. “The Easy Blues” shows Martyn’s strengths as an acoustic blues performer and the album closes on an uplifting, peaceful note with “Gentle Blues.” The album is so consistent, it is impossible for me to pick favorites. It simply deserves five stars. —Nathan

Girlschool “Hit and Run” (1981)

Hit And Run is a simple and straightforward blast of high-octane, bad-attitude hard rock from Girlschool. Although my US copy is actually a mix of tracks from this and their debut, Demolition, there’s no discernable difference between the material as it’s all lean ‘n’ mean, buzzsaw metal that yeah, often sounds like a female take on Motörhead, slowed down and with Lemmy’s croak replaced by smooth but snotty vocals. Nothing wrong with that. —Ben

Deep Purple “Machine Head” (1972)

Loaded with no less than four primal Purple classics, Machine Head has gone on to be the general favorite studio slab from the esteemed MKII lineup, and with good reason, as among the empty corridors of Montreux’s Grand Hotel the band and producer Martin Birch laid to tape a set that pushed the heaviness of In Rock into a focused and accessible framework. The most enduring cuts here are synonymous with Deep Purple, the open highway insanity of “Highway Star” featuring a vintage Jon Lord classical workout and Richie wailing in high harmony with himself, while the King Kong sized riff of “Smoke on the Water” melds perfectly with Gillan’s clever, autobiographical lyrics. Elsewhere there’s the extended instrumental intro to the boogiein’ “Lazy” and rocket-propelled “Space Truckin’,” while lesser renowned entries hold their own, the studly “Maybe I’m a Leo” and “Never Before” clues to the band’s funky future, “Pictures of Home” chugging along to a melancholy gallop. Again, the sound of the band from their lead booted bottom end to the warm distortion of Lord’s Hammond and Blackmore’s Strat-wrangling works it’s magic on Machine Head, birthing an enduring, steel-plated standard for all hard lovin’ rock libraries. —Ben

Lake “Lake” (1976)

Make no mistake, as evidenced by its budget price tag, this is an irresistible slab of 70’s soft rock that kicks off a trio of unjustly forgotten, gold-standard releases from Lake. With the distinctive vocals of James Hopkins Harrison, Lake offers a set of tracks that elevate you to a higher plane through their massive wall of vocals and lush instrumental backing, featuring dual-keyboards and the rock-solid riffs of guitarist Alex Conti. Highlighted by the blazing opener, “On The Run,” morning after kiss-off “Sorry To Say,” insistent and dramatic “Key to the Rhyme,” and dancefloor transcendence of “Chasing Colours,” the album culminates in the moody 10 minute soft-rock saga “Between the Lines.” Lake shines throughout as a neglected gem, found amongst many a dusty record rack across America. Take the plunge! —Ben

Surprisingly good FM rock in league with prime Supertramp with a lead vocalist reminiscent of that band’s singer, Roger Hodgson. A guilty pleasure worth every one of the ninety-nine pennies you will most likely throw down for this overlooked pop-prog gem. It’s followup, “Lake II” is equally good. —David

Faces “A Nod is as Good as a Wink…” (1971)

How in the world do you pick favorite Faces record? Ask us tomorrow and it might be the equally fantastic “First Step,” “Long Player” or “Ooh La La.’ Regardless of which album we choose to play at Jive Time, it’s always a party when the needle hits the groove of as Faces LP!

Faces were formed when Rod Stewart replaced Small Faces singer, Steve Marriott, in 1970. At the time of this record’s release, their third, the Faces and their flamboyant frontman had become nearly as big as the Rolling Stones and their famous live shows were filling stadiums around the world. (Ronny Wood would later join the Stones, replacing guitarist Mick Taylor in 1975.) Although their success was eventually overshadowed by Stewart’s rise to mega-stardom, the Faces catalog has held up extremely well and still rivals that of the Stones’ from the same era. “A Nod” boasts one of the group’s biggest hits, the superb, fiery rocker “Stay With Me” and numerous other highlights, including the strutting “Miss Judy’s Farm,” a rollicking cover of Chuck Berry’s “Memphis,” and the piano-driven hard rock of “Too Bad.” Faces win my vote for the rock band I most wish I could have seen live in their heyday. –David

Elvis Costello and the Attractions “Blood & Chocolate” (1986)

Gotz ‘dem ol’ mean woman blues again, brother? Sometimes when the fairer sex brings you down into a pit of despair and world-is-crashing helplessness, you gotta put down that never-ending bottle of Jameson and saunter into the studio with your best dudes and pulverize that anguish into something worthwhile. This is Declan Patrick at his most vitriolic, spewing venom and catharsis, ripping apart low-down, no-good rotten women while his uncharacteristically raw sounding, yet always reliable Attractions whip up a frenzy. the record is admittedly top-heavy, but what a fucking tremendous Side A, from the vindictive, organ-fueled anthem “I Hope You’re Happy Now” to the drunken 3 a.m. sad-sack ballad “Home is Anywhere You Hang Your Head.” But it’s all foothills to the Mt. Everest of Costello’s career: the caustic, languishing, incomparable “I Want You.” this one track, with its slow build-up and quietly intense vocals, captures all the contradicting feelings of anger, disgust, disillusionment, and futility, and the searing, unrelenting pain that comes with that horrible, carnal knowledge: yep, it happened, and yep, it was THAT asshole. And the most horrifying part: it ends not in murder or heartbreak like other paeans to adultery, but in begrudging and hopeless acceptance. Perhaps because “I Want You” raises the bar so exponentially high, what follows pales in comparison and is almost entirely forgettable, though “Poor Napoleon” has one hell of an addictive chorus. to me, an idiosyncratic artist with a long career is always the most compelling at his or her meanest and nastiest, and this record – at least the first half, anyway – exposes all the darkness stirring underneath that bespectacled veneer. —S Paul Brown

The Beatles “Beatles for Sale” (1964)

I bought my first Beatles record (Help!) at age nine, barely tall enough to see over the cashier’s counter at Record Town, a now long-defunct shopping mall record store in the western Massachusetts town where I grew up. Nearly 30 years later, I plunked down $250+ for the remastered stereo box set shortly after the Beatles’ catalog overhaul in the fall of 2009. In between those two milestones, my Fab Four fandom has been constant, obsessive, and undying, yet my album preferences have been inexplicably capricious. But one area where I’ve never wavered concerns an album, little discussed, that the band put out at the tail end of 1964. It is called Beatles for Sale.

A cursory glance at the cover and a light listen to the record don’t immediately reveal its brilliance. This is early Beatles, for sure. Cover songs abound, representing almost half of the album’s material. (They would significantly tone down this practice on their next album, Help!, and completely abandon it for good by the time of Rubber Soul.) But a closer listen to the album’s opener, “No Reply”, informs us that we are venturing into new territory. A beautiful study in contrasts between thundering drums and wistful acoustic guitars with hints of bossa nova, the song denotes a sound that’s more accomplished, more sophisticated, than anything that has come before. As an added bonus, we have only one overplayed track, “Eight Days a Week”. These days, I can barely listen to this song whenever it comes on the radio, but here, as a part of  larger musical statement, it never gets old.

Though Beatles for Sale is in all aspects a group effort, it’s Lennon who provides its show-stoppers. His interpretation of Chuck Berry’s “Rock and Roll Music”, like his earlier renderings of “Twist and Shout” and “Money”, continues to establish him as howler without peer; it easily blows the original out of the water. With songs like “I’m a Loser” and “I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party”, he begins to lay the template for the confessional songwriting that he would explore much more deeply later, but seldom while rocking this hard. But for my money, my favorite Lennon moment on Beatles for Sale is “Mr. Moonlight”. Some fans and critics think this is one of of the worst Beatles tracks ever, but I love it! Lennon’s crazed gospel preacher vocals launch it into the stratosphere. The chorus is almost dirge-like, and the loungey organ solo only adds to its weirdness. In some ways, it’s more out there than anything on Revolver or Sgt. Pepper’s; they’d certainly never record anything like it again. Though McCartney also gets in a good rocker with his cover of Little Richard’s “Kansas City”, his overall contribution is a bit more understated than Lennon’s. Still, it’s no less important. He really only takes lead vocals on a couple of songs, but “I’ll Follow the Sun” is one of his early masterpieces, one that hints at the A-list tunesmithing that people would soon take for granted. The album’s unsung hero, however, is George Harrison. Though relegated as usual to his one token spotlight moment (a cover of Carl Perkins’ “Everbody’s Trying to Be My Baby”), his fingerprints are all over everything. Often accused by “serious” musicians of being a mediocre guitarist, here he proves all of these Philistines wrong. Effortlessly shifting between elegant country picking and precision power-chording, what his playing lacks in technical prowess is more than made up for with vibrant and highly evocative tones; in fact, a large part of Beatles for Sale’s success can be attributed to its Big Guitar sound. Then there’s Ringo. His noble back-beat carries the music through no matter what the situation demands. There’s not much more to be said about that, except that he’s just always awesome.

This was the record that UK punters got. In the states, much of this material was spread out among a pair of shorter Capitol Records releases (Beatles ‘65 and Beatles VI), a double-dipping practice that the label found lucrative but which drove the Beatles themselves crazy.  Arguments could be made for all versions, certainly. But the fact is, this is how John, Paul, George, and Ringo wanted you to hear these songs. They were probably right; it all just seems to hold together better here.

We all know what happened next. The Beatles would discover marijuana, Dylan, and eventually LSD. They would take their music to hitherto unimagined artistic heights and become a four-headed spokesman of a generation. But I ask you this: As a stripped-down and no-nonsense rock and roll band, did the Beatles ever kick this much ass? I think not. —Richard P

Small Faces “Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake” (1968)

Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake is a work of pure genius, from the title of the album, through the seemingly mish-mash blend of rock, psychedelia, music-hall and ridiculous fairy tale back to the music of the title track. Side one knits together some classic rock songs, my favourites being “Afterglow” (which manages to give me goose bumps) and “Song Of A Baker” (as close to a pastoral song as East End boys are going to get) – two great rock songs, with the instrumental title track, psychedelia and music-hall (“Rene”). All good pieces. An unlikely mix, but they pull it off. The genius is that they manage to mirror this strange mix of styles on side two, while incorporating it into a fairy tale told part in song and part in gobbledegook by a narrator. And it works well (contrast the artistically less successful Beach Boys’ fairy tale EP Mt. Vernon And Fairway). It works because they don’t take themselves too seriously. A masterpiece! –Jim

Nico “Chelsea Girl” (1967)

O Nico! Demure melancholic, wanton femme fatale! Warbling siren of ennui and hopelessness! With the defeatist longing of an Old World aristocrat, the deadpan sexuality of a courtesan, and the glazed-eyed fragility of a junkie, Christa Päffgen cultivated an impressive cult of personality. She gallivanted around an abandoned castle in La Dolce Vita, fraternized with the scenesters and freaks at the Factory, and briefly fronted the Velvet Underground. She didn’t conform to any presubscribed roles for female musicians; she wasn’t an earth mother, a self-righteous folkie, or a wide-eyed innocent teen temptress. If anything, she was an ur-goth, an artist plagued by darkness and haunted by her insecurities. Chelsea Girl, her debut as a solo artist, is Nico at her most vulnerable and sad. With her inimitable near-baritone, baroque orchestral accompaniment, and help from talented songwriters (mainly former bandmates Lou Reed and John Cale, and also a pre-California Jackson Browne), she inhabits emotions rarely explored in pop music: heartbreaking, immobilizing indecisiveness in the soaring “the fairest of the seasons,” world-weary detachment in “these days,” and seasonal affective despair in “winter song.” The most explicitly experimental track – “it was a pleasure thing” – is a Celtic death ritual with Nico moaning ethereal high notes over a din of feedback and lacerating guitar. Dylan’s “I’ll Keep it With Mine” – one of the few tracks with no minor chords – serves as a rousing counterpoint to the dour misery mire that surrounds it. Though Nico would later delve into more abstract territory, this record captures all the tragic, twisted beauty that defined one of pop’s most compelling figures. —S Paul Brown

Nazareth “Hair of the Dog” (1975)

In 1975 the Scottish Hard Rock band Nazareth released their masterpiece, and what is one of the greatest Hard Rock albums ever recorded, Hair Of The Dog. This album is simply amazing from first to last and doesn’t have anything resembling a weak song on it. What it does have is one hard hitting earth shaking song right after another. And they are all perfectly balanced by Danny McCafferty menacing, growly Vocals and Manny Charlton snarling searing Guitars.

This album stands tall as one of the greatest Hard Rock icon albums of the 1970’s and of all time. –Karl