Rock

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

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