CD Odyssey Disc 471: Judas Priest

The holidays have caused a slowdown in the album review stream, but I’m starting to get back into the swing of things.  I had planned to write this review on Friday afternoon, but I was deathly ill yesterday and am only now starting to feel like myself again.

This album is yet more Judas Priest.  There are only two left after this one though, so the Judas Priest part of the Odyssey is nearing an end.

Disc 471 is…Turbo

Artist: Judas Priest

Year of Release: 1986

What’s up with the Cover?  A hand with long nails on a joystick.  I assume the owner of the hand is shifting whatever machine the joystick controls into ‘turbo’.

How I Came To Know It:  I’ve known this albums since it came out when I was sixteen years old.  My brother worked on a fish boat back then, and when he’d get back from a trip he’d have a ton of cash, and he’d blow a considerable amount of it on records.  He bought “Turbo” and I taped my favourite songs off of it from him. After many years, I recently purchased it on CD because I was feeling nostalgic, and remember liking those four songs.

How It Stacks Up:  I have twelve Judas Priest albums, so after this one I’ll only have two more to review.  I have a soft spot for “Turbo” it probably doesn’t deserve, but you can’t choose who you love.  I’ll rate it 8^th out of 12.

Rating:  3 stars but I am probably being kind.

When I was sixteen years old I had this faded jean jacket I wore everywhere.  It had band pins on the collar depicting albums by Grim Reaper and Iron Maiden, and on the back I drew a big symbol of chaos in black felt pen.  I thought that jacket was pretty cool, and while I don’t wear it anymore, I still own it for sentimental reasons.  “Turbo” is a lot like that.

While I’ve always liked “Turbo,” it is not an album held in high regard by most Judas Priest fans.  It follows on the massively successful (and awesome) “Defenders of the Faith” but is a fairly significant departure in sound.

The Judas Priest quality guitar riffs are still there, but the big departure is in production decisions, where the band has opted for the rightly-maligned eighties fuzzy-synth sound.  This cuts way back on the visceral quality of K.K. Downing and Glen Tipton’s guitar work, and also cuts some power out of Rob Halford’s vocals at a point in his career where that voice is starting to lose power on its own.  I think there are even drum machines in there in places.  Yech.

We shouldn’t judge Judas Priest too harshly, though – Tom Petty’s 1985 “Southern Accents” and Bruce Springsteen’s 1987 “Tunnel of Love” show that many great seventies artists fell victim to the siren’s call of new technology.  Musicians are creative types, so it stands to reason they’d try new techniques as they came along.  Fortunately for “Turbo” the songs are still good, and for the most part they shine through the bad production.

In fact the opening track, “Turbo Lover” even manages to meld Priest’s style with the new sound.  The song is a chimera of metal, industrial and synth-pop that captures all of the sexy aggression that Judas Priest usually delivers, and wraps it up in a new format.  For lack of a better expression let’s call it Cyberdine Systems Rock.

My other two guilty pleasures are “Private Property” and “Parental Guidance” both songs that scream of youthful rebellion.  Realizing that the band members were over thirty-five when they sang these songs, it is surprising how honest they still sound.  I know that when I was a teenager these songs were like anthems to me.

The bridge of “Private Property” in particular, is seriously heavy, as the drums pound away and an ad-libbing Halford shrieks “keep your dirty hands off me!” (a line that always makes me think of Charlton Heston in Planet of the Apes).

“Parental Guidance” has atrociously bad lyrics:

“Every day you scream at me to turn the music low

Well if you keep on screaming you’ll make me deaf you know.”

And later when our parent’s generation is admonished for wearing “three-piece suits” (horrors) it gets even sillier.  Yet for all that, when Halford sings:

“Don’t you remember what it’s like to lose control

Put on my jacket ‘fore you get too old – let’s rock and roll.”

I find myself picking up what he’s putting down.  Instead of having a laugh, this song just reminds me of the glory of youth, when we think we know everything and are determined to prove it.  Putting this record on makes me chuckle a little at how much I used to like it. At the same time, it makes me feel like I’m able to put on that old jean jacket and rock and roll.  Fortunately, I’ve since upgraded the jean jacket with a very cool brown version, that features a big studded cross on the back (professionally done this time).  There’s no need to grow up too fast, people – I’m barely over forty!

Or put another way, we should never lose our youthful exuberance, and if that means I grade “Turbo” out at a star higher than it deserves, then so be it.

Best tracks:  Turbo Lover, Private Property, Parental Guidance

CD Odyssey Disc 470: Band of Horses

Man, where does the time go when you are on vacation?  I’ve been meaning to write this review for two days now, but fun keeps intruding.  I guess if something is going to intrude, it might as well be fun.  Wait a minute – writing music reviews is fun as well.  Have I been waylaid from the righteous path of the CD Odyssey?  Never!

On with the album!

Disc 470 is…Infinite Arms

Artist: Band of Horses

Year of Release: 2010

What’s up with the Cover?  A time lapsed photo of the stars makes it feel like the universe is spinning – I think it is.  Whether it is infinite or not is a matter of some debate, but for our lowly human purposes, it might as well be.

How I Came To Know It:  When Beck came to Victoria on the “Modern Guilt” tour in 2008, Band of Horses opened for him.  At that time they were promoting their second album, “Cease to Begin” and I really liked their sound, and bought it.  When “Infinite Arms” came out it was just me buying their latest release – I think as a gift for Sheila who likes them even more than I do.

How It Stacks Up:  We have three Band of Horses albums (their first three).  “Infinite Arms” and “Cease to Begin” are different, but equally great.  I guess if there was a photo finish, I’d put “Cease to Begin” slightly out in front, but not by much.

Rating:  3 stars but close to 4

When I heard Band of Horses live in 2008 I remember thinking, “this band is going to be big” but it wasn’t until 2010’s “Infinite Arms” that they started to get the recognition they deserved.  Even now, it is pretty muted, based on wikipedia’s chart information.

It is understandable why this record did better than the previous one, commercially speaking.  Both albums are in the indie-pop genre, but previous records were a bit more raw and folksy.  “Infinite Arms” has a more produced and polished sound, with songs that are slightly more up tempo and more likely to induce idle toe-tapping while you listen.

While I’m often critical of over-produced music, Band of Horses does it just right on “Infinite Arms.”  It is less raw, but the production values really suit the sound.  Ben Bidwell’s voice is high and distinct.  On earlier albums, it is filled with a mournful quality that makes you imagine he’s singing around a campfire, filling a lonely woodscape with his vocals.

On “Infinite Arms” the production puts some extra reverb into the sound, and it makes his vocals both bigger and more diffuse at the same time.  If earlier albums are like hearing him in the dark in the woods, “Infinite Arms” is like hearing him out on a plain, under a starry sky (making the album cover all the more appropriate).

As far as the rest of the band, they play very tightly together, although there aren’t really any sections where they need to stand on their heads.  Like a lot of recent indie music, the individual instruments aren’t called on to carry the song on their own, but instead they combine with one another to make an ambient sound, with often very simple melodies strung through them.

I also give this album full credit for being tastefully restrained, with only twelve tracks.  Most of these songs are only three or four minutes long.  There is nothing wrong with a song being longer as a general rule, but these songs are simple melody/mood pieces, and if they were to extend out too long, they’d start to feel like they were dragging.  A wise decision was made by the band to keep the songs short and leave you wanting more.

One of the best examples of this is “On My Way Back Home,” an introspective song about the artistic process, and the doubts we all have that we’re creating something worthy.  At the same time, it is a song that surrenders to the process of artistic creation as much as it dreads it.  Ultimately all we can do is be aware, and honestly create the best we’re capable of.  It is good advice for writers of all stripes, and the kind of thing that often comes to you on a long walk home, sometimes aided by liquor.

Other songs, like “N.W. Apartment” are also about the artistic process, but delivered in a more upbeat song, that sounds more like a party than anything.  I imagine a bunch of people crashing a northwest apartment in some city to jam until the neighbours complain, and then maybe a little longer.

All the songs have a big atmospheric quality that makes you feel like you’re standing under a night sky, with the universe looking down at you just as intently as you are looking up.  The songs are like an expansive hug around the world, aided mostly by the unique quality of Bidwell’s voice.

A minor quibble is the way the liner notes are presented.  Instead of a booklet, or fold-out, you get a sleeve of photographs, with information each song on the back, presented in loose format within a sleeve.  It looks like someone’s home photography, but not in a good way.  On the reverse of each ‘card’ you get a rough drawing of an object, sometimes with the song lyrics printed, but often just a line or two.  I don’t like the presentation, nor do I like the inconsistent approach to including lyrics.  Include them or don’t, but enough with the overly self-conscious presentation.  It is that sort of thing that gives indie musicians a bad name.

This album doesn’t blow me away, but I really enjoy listening to it, and I can see Band of Horses being around for a long time, and continuing to get critical accolades for some time to come.  At least I hope that’s what happens.

Best tracks:  Compliments, Blue Beard, On My Way Back Home, Evening Kitchen, Older, Neighbor

CD Odyssey Disc 469: Clannad

Some albums aren’t the greatest albums in your collection, but they have enough associated memories that you have a hard time not smiling when you put them on.  This next one is one of those.

Disc 469 is…PastPresent

Artist: Clannad

Year of Release: 1989, with music from 1983-1989

What’s up with the Cover?  Oh, folk artists, you really struggle with the cover art.  The ghostly face of a giant woman haunts a field of some kind of grain (I think).  She looks apprehensive about something – maybe it’s the realization that the foliage is making her look like she has a beard.

How I Came To Know It:  In the eighties, I was a fan of an ITV series on Robin Hood called “Robin of Sherwood” that ran from 1984-1986.  I loved the melodramatic flair of the show, which starred Michael Praed as Robin of Loxley for the first two years.  I thought Praed was the best Robin Hood I’d seen since Errol Flynn, but at the end of Season Two they killed him off.  Spoiler alert – it happens when the Sheriff of Nottingham finally figures out he can track the thieves through Sherwood Forest with dogs – who knew? This awkward plot and the loss of Praed to the series were both genuinely depressing.  When Praed later resurfaced as “Prince Michael” on the insufferable soap opera “Dynasty” I was even more depressed.

Despite that hiccup, “Robin of Sherwood” remains one of my favourite tellings of the Robin Hood legend.  I really dug the theme song “Robin (The Hooded Man)” which I discovered was by the band Clannad.  Although a famous folk band in the UK, I’d never heard of Clannad at the time, but I went in search of the CD featuring the music from the show.  This was in the days before internet shopping, and I didn’t find it, but I did find the compilation album, “PastPresent” that had two of the tracks from the show, “Robin (the Hooded Man)” and “Lady Marian.”

How It Stacks Up:  As long time readers of A Creative Maelstrom will know, I don’t ‘stack up’ compilations because they are not true albums, but just a collection of singles.

Rating:  n/a – ‘best of’ albums aren’t rateable!

“Robin of Sherwood” was a formative series for me – full of melodrama, honour, derring-do and feats of heroism, but “PastPresent” sadly did not deliver the same magic. 

“Robin (the Hooded Man)” was a very cool track, and I still enjoy the odd mix of synthesizer, violins, hints of martial drumming and a chorus singing “Robin, the hooded man,” all breathy and mysterious.  However, it has never recaptured the magic present when I heard it sung over the credits as an impressionable fourteen year old, settling in for an episode of my favourite show.  But I digress…

Back to the album, which despite helping open my eyes to a new kind of music, was overall disappointing.  Clannad had been around since the mid-seventies, but “PastPresent” only covers the period from 1983-1989.  Regrettably, by this time they had drifted quite a ways from traditional Celtic folk and into new age.  In the eighties a lot of Celtic/new age hybrids were infected with the same production values that were wrecking rock and roll at the time, and Clannad did not escape the trend.  The songs are flat and fuzzy in production, and whereas former band member Enya had gone on to show the wonders of layered production sound, Clannad’s efforts at it are a mixed bag.

On up-tempo tracks the sound comes off a bit trite.  I expect it is supposed to be anthemic but songs like “Something to Believe In” and “Stepping Stone” lose their resonance with the inclusion of drum machine beats, and the sing-song voice common to folk vocals doesn’t mesh well with the pop production sounds.  Even the brilliant vocals of Maire Brennan can’t rescue these tracks from the ill-placed saxophone solos.

Also on the gripe list, this record has sixteen songs, which is two too many for almost any album.  Worse, two of those songs are “The Hunter” and “World of Difference,” both songs that are not available anywhere else.  Neither song is particularly good, but beyond that I am infuriated with artists that promote their compilation albums by adding one or two songs that don’t appear anywhere else.  Fine for someone like me (I only have two of Clannad’s studio albums) but a slap in the face of fans that have faithfully bought every release, and are now confronted with buying a bunch of those songs twice just to get the two they’re missing.  At least that’s how it was in the days before singles could be downloaded, which was definitely the case in 1989.  Naughty Clannad!

Despite these disappointing business decisions, on the album’s softer, more introspective songs the music arrangements works surprisingly well.  This is particularly true for the the traditional Gaelic tracks.  My two favourite songs are “Coinleach Ghlas an Fhomhair” and “Buachaill an Eirne” two old folk songs re-imagined in Clannad’s new sound.  The production on both is very new age, but the melodies are so beautiful they can survive almost any level of tomfoolery in the studio.  In fact, counter-intuitively the ambient sound that is out of place on the more modern songs works well with these more traditional numbers.  Brennan’s voice sounds ethereal and otherworldly wise.  I imagine these songs are the sort of thing you’d hear walking through an elven forest like Lothlorien or Mirkwood.

When I was much younger I used to suffer from bad bouts of insomnia, and both these songs were staples in helping me get to sleep.  They filled the room with a calmness that helped quell whatever was going on in my over-active imagination.  For all of this album’s shortcomings, I owe it for that.

I also owe it for being a very early album that put me on the path toward Celtic folk music; a journey I’ve enjoyed now for over twenty years.  This record is far from perfect, but it has its moments, and it has given me a few of my own.

Best tracks:  Theme from “Harry’s Game”, Coinleach Ghlas an Fhomhair, Robin (the Hooded Man), Newgrange, Buachaill an Eirne

CD Odyssey Disc 468: Lucinda Williams

I’m just back from having brunch with Sheila at one of Victoria’s finest diners (Floyd’s) and ready to tackle our review.  One of my favourite things about Floyd’s are the staff, who are always friendly, genuine and interesting people.  Today we got a line on a couple of new bands from a new employee, Sam.  Sadly cannot remember the name of the recommendations right now, but fortunately Sheila wrote them down in her notebook, so when she gets home I can fall down the Youtube well and check them out.

I loathe the radio (I see no reason to spend my time waiting for one in four songs I like, when I can just listen to exactly what I want by playing my own music).  If you loathe the radio, the best way to pick up on new bands is word of mouth from other equally enthusiastic music fans.

Or you can read my blog, but I guess that’s happening right now, so hardly a useful tip.

Disc 468 is…Car Wheels on a Gravel Road

Artist: Lucinda Williams

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover?  A gravel road, which I can only assume will soon experience (or has recently experienced) some car wheels.  Not much of a house at the end of the road but such are the downsides to the rustic country life.

How I Came To Know It:  For most people, this album is their first exposure to Lucinda Williams but I came to “Car Wheels” a bit later.  I had heard it was considered her finest record, so I bought it early on, but only after I already owned “Sweet Old World” and “Essence.”

How It Stacks Up:  Since my last Lucinda review she’s put out another album, so I now have ten albums by her.  “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road” is one of my three favourites.  Oddly, I’ve reviewed the other two already (“World Without Tears” back at Disc 161 and her self-titled album at Disc 37).  “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road” is maybe even the best of the bunch, but it depends on my mood.  With the dice gods seeing fit to deliver all three of the best albums first, it is all downhill from here, I suppose, but it will still be a lovely ride.

Rating:  5 stars

Some would say that the only Lucinda Williams you really need to have is “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.” Those people are of course, idiots.  Every Lucinda album is great, and the two I previously reviewed are every bit the equal of “Car Wheels.”

That is saying a lot, though, because this is as fine an example of alt-folk music you will hear.  For all my love for “World Without Tears” and her self-titled album, I will freely admit that “Car Wheels” is the album I would recommend as the gateway to Lucinda.

The record begins with “Right in Time,” where Lucinda shows off her sexy, sultry side (she does sexy and sultry as good as anyone alive).  She is never afraid to expose herself for a good song, and “Right in Time” which is about the longing, release, and afterglow of a sexual encounter is both tender and visceral at the same time.  Best line:

“I take off my watch and my earrings

My bracelets and everything

Lie on my back and moan at the ceiling.”

It’s a good thing the album starts on such a harmonious note, because Lucinda Williams more often than not sings about relationships in trouble.  Lucinda’s voice takes on a hurt that is as strong as anything you’ll hear from a Blues master.

On the title track Lucinda references Loretta Lynn playing on the radio as part of an early childhood memory of moving.  On “Concrete and Barbed Wire” her tone is strongly evocative of Loretta, who is an obvious inspiration.  Singing high and plaintive, with her southern accent coming out strong, Lucinda tells the story of a woman’s love, so strong it makes her delusional, as she wonders why it can’t break her lover out of prison.  After all, the walls holding him in are ‘only made of concrete and barbed wire.’  It’s a sad, broken, junkie logic that makes the song strangely heroic.

Later on the album, Lucinda reminds us that there are far more tragic barriers to relationships than prison walls.  “Can’t Let Go” is an up-tempo blues song about refusing to admit a failed relationship is finished.  The guitar work on the song is a brilliant bit of playing that reminds me of early John Lee Hooker.

“Greenville” tells the story of  a woman letting her man go, after finally realizing that he is no good for her (maybe it’s the same guy from “Concrete and Barbed Wire” after he gets paroled).  “Greenville” is sorrowful and resigned as Lucinda effectively tells the bum she’s with to get out of town:

“Empty bottles and broken glass

Busted down doors and borrowed cash

Borrowed cash, oh the borrowed cash

Go back to Greenville, just go on back to Greenville.”

Of all the great and tragic relationship songs on the album (and there are many) my favourite is “Metal Firecracker.”  I think of this song as the lowest common denominator at the end of a relationship:

“Once I was in your blood

And you were obsessed with me

You wanted to paint my picture

You wanted to undress me

You wanted to see me in your future.

“All I ask

Don’t tell anybody the secrets

Don’t tell anybody the secrets

I told you.”

Because when it’s really over, that’s all you can ask of your ex; keep the secrets you shared with each other.  Keep faith with something beautiful, even if that something doesn’t even exist anymore.  “Metal Firecracker” is a fitting book end to “Right in Time”, with Lucinda singing once again about being undressed, but this time instead of it being triumphant and trusting with her in control, now it is vulnerable and awkward, and in the hands of another.

The album’s production is a perfect match for the open honest vocals, featuring big, loose guitar playing that I found reminiscent of early Johnny Cash.  All of the players are amazing, and there is a softness in some songs, and a jangle in others, depending on what the tempo and the topic call for.  Sometimes it is bluesy, sometimes folksy, and sometimes a little rock and roll, but it always knows what to do when and in what proportion.  Lyrically, musically and emotionally there are simply no missteps on “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.”

Best tracks:  all tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 467: Blue Rodeo

I meant to review this last night, but I’ve been starting work at six o’clock in the morning, which makes for a 4:30 a.m. reveille.  By later in the evening I am a bit knackered.

So tonight I managed (against the odds) to get out of work at a reasonable hour, which I didn’t expect.  I probably could’ve gone out and been seasonably social, but after I did some Christmas shopping and got back from a long workout, I decided I better review this record before my pumpkin bursts for another evening, and I miss my chance.

Disc 467 is…Lost Together

Artist: Blue Rodeo

Year of Release: 1992

What’s up with the Cover?  It’s damned hard to tell at first.  I believe it is a bunch of people (who may or may not be the band) looking over the edge of a high building into a parking lot.  Then add a bunch of swirls.  The whole thing is – dare I say it? – lost on me altogether.

How I Came To Know It:  While I knew the hits off the album, it was Sheila who introduced me to Blue Rodeo.  She is a big fan, and over the years she’s turned me into a big fan as well.  She had this album when I met her.

How It Stacks Up:  We have all of Blue Rodeo’s twelve studio albums.  Of these, “Lost Together” is somewhere in the middle.  I’d say 6^th or 7^th best depending on my mood.

Rating:  3 stars but close to 4

Why so angry, Greg Keelor?  That is what this album had me asking from time to time.

“Lost Together” is Blue Rodeo’s fourth album and it should be the band at the height of their talent, sandwiched as it is between the excellence of “Casino” (reviewed back at Disc 368) and the perfection of “Five Days in July” (sadly yet to be reviewed).

At this point Cuddy and Keelor have mastered their sound; a unique blend of rock, folk and alt-country.  If anything, “Lost Together” is a bit heavier on the rock side than many of their albums, and features some great guitar riffs front and centre in the mix.  “Where Are You Now?” practically rocks out like they’re playing the Boston Garden, and “Flying” sounds like R.E.M. in their heavy reverb phase.  These aren’t my two favourite songs, but I appreciated the edge they give to the record as a complete listening experience.

What I didn’t appreciate was Greg Keelor climbing Anger Mountain.  On earlier albums like “Diamond Mine” Keelor’s rage at injustice has a thread of hope woven through it, and on later albums, it mellows a bit with age.  With “Lost Together” it just comes off as deeply frustrated.  I’m as big a fan of protest music as the next guy (actually, probably more than the next guy) but songs like “Fools Like You” and “Willin’ Fool” while musically interesting are just too literal and cranky to reach me on an emotional level.

I will give Keelor full marks for the title track, though, which is a Blue Rodeo classic to this day.  As a song “Lost Together” has everything.  Starting with a gentle folk guitar (with organ tucked in behind for some extra resonance) and then the drums, slowly kicking into gear as Keelor’s unmistakable warble reminds you that this guy knows how to sing about the good feelings as well.  By the time the brilliant Bob Wiseman kicks into his short organ solo (one of the few men that can make an organ solo cool), the song has reached an emotional crescendo, only to slip to back to earth, carried gently down by the able placement of a string section.  Then Keelor takes us home with a surprising powerful vocal finish.  This song is like a mini-symphony and like Keelor himself, strange and beautiful.

Yet it isn’t my favourite on the album.  As is often the case, I gravitate more to Cuddy’s sound, his voice big and high and full of yearning for high ideals that are always just out of our reach, but keep us reaching.  On “Lost Together” he’s got a few good ones.  The first is “Rain Down on Me.” Following immediately after Keelor opens the album with an angry “Fools Like You,” “Rain Down on Me” surrenders to its powerful emotions, but doesn’t presume to know where they should take you.  As Cuddy sings:

“I used to think I knew

What I was fighting for

I don’t think that anymore.”

It is a powerful reminder that it is better to make love than war, even if you’re not sure you’re doing it right.  Also, like many of the tracks, it has a killer guitar lick which I like to think is Keelor pitching in to make a good song better (he is the more rock-style player of the two leads; Cuddy having the more laid back alt-country style).

“Already Gone” and “Last to Know” are Cuddy doing what he does best; describing relationships on the downward slide.  He is the master of capturing in both words and music when relationships just slip through our fingers despite our best intentions.  In “Last to Know” the singer knows his girlfriend is going to let him go, and is just waiting anxiously for it to happen, like a prisoner who doesn’t know the date for his own execution:

“Sitting there across the room

Your smile looks like a threat

I’m living underneath the heel

Of what you might do next.”

He’s been doing these types of songs for twenty-five years now, and you’d think I’d get tired of him dragging me into those same old mournful moments but nope – I still love it.

Fortunately, “Last to Know” is followed by a sweet little Greg Keelor song, “Is it You,” spent of rage, he manages to blend his love of the awkward with a heartfelt honesty:

“There’s a drunk on the sidewalk

Trying to look unconcerned

And the dead eyed motel blondes

Wait in line for their turn

Is it you

Who laughs

When all the other dogs snarl?

Is it you

Just because you listened for a while?”

OK, sure this could just as easily be a cheap moment with groupies after a show, but even if it is you can’t fool me, Greg Keelor.  You got love in your heart, my friend, and just as much as Jim.

This is a good record, with a lot of musical influences working the tension that exists between them very effectively.  I couldn’t quite go 4 stars, but I was sorely tempted.

Best tracks:  Rain Down on Me, Already Gone, Lost Together, Last to Know, Is It You

CD Odyssey Disc 466: Marianne Faithfull

When you undertake to review 1,000 or more CDs over several years there will be days that you’re not feeling up for the fight.  Coming off a late night on Saturday, and with an early start to my work day tomorrow, this is one of those times.

Fortunately, this next album is a good one, so that will hopefully power me through.

Disc 466 is…Broken English

 Artist: Marianne Faithfull

Year of Release: 1979

What’s up with the Cover?  Even in the dimmest of blue lights, Ms. Faithfull wearily shields her eyes from the world.  Thank God for cigarettes.

How I Came To Know It:  My friend Casey loves this album, but he can’t claim introducing it to me, since I’ve owned it since university in the late eighties.  I don’t remember where I heard it – likely at a party – but it stuck sufficiently that I bought it at a time that I had very limited purchasing power.

How It Stacks Up:  Amazingly, Marianne Faithfull has almost twenty albums, but “Broken English” is the only one I own, so I can’t really stack it up.  From what I read, it is regarded as her finest work, but I don’t know her other work, so I can’t say.

Rating:  4 stars

“Broken English” is an album with themes that are as provocative as a rock thrown through a bedroom window, so it is only fitting they are sung by a woman with a voice like broken glass.

This record always impresses me with Marianne Faithfull’s unflinching look at the rotten underbelly of life.  Sexual politics, drug addiction, class warfare and the quiet desperation of a housewife that simply can’t take it anymore, it is all here. 

The title track sets us off with an apocalyptic beat that sets you on edge while at the same time draws you in as Faithfull sets her sights on the small matter of the Cold War (which in 1979 was no small matter at all), and how thoroughly irrelevant she sees the struggle from the perspective of the common man.

It is a theme she develops later with John Lennon’s “Working Class Hero” contracting international politics into a much more personal assault on Britain’s class system.  She may be singing John Lennon’s words, but delivered in Faithfull’s raspy, accusatory tone they just seem all the nastier.

Not content with international relations and class warfare, Faithfull also tackles sexual politics with Shel Silverstein’s “The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan,” telling the story of a woman so completely lost in her suburban prison that she has a mental breakdown.  On “Lucy Jordan” Faithfull sets aside the bluesy rock of the rest of the album and opts for a more folk-inspired approach, slightly modernized with a synthesizer riff.  Her sultry sandpaper voice takes on a fragile quality as she sings:

“Her husband is off to work and the kids are off to school

And there are o so many ways for her to spend a day

She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers

Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.”

“At the age of thirty seven she realized she’d never

Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.”

This song always fills me with such a deep sadness, not just for the title character, but for everyone out there that we calmly walk past every day, oblivious to the fact that inside they are screaming in frustration at how their life didn’t turn out the way they hoped it would.  It’s a hard world out there sometimes, and Marianne Faithull isn’t afraid to remind us of it.

Of course the album ends with the nastiest song I think I own, in “Why D’Ya Do It,” about a woman confronting her man after she catches him cheating.  This song is packed to the gunwales with spitting rage, as Faithfull packs almost seven minutes with every sexual swear word she can think of (and she can think of a lot).  This song is now over thirty years old, and I don’t think it could have been any edgier if it were written today.  Infidelity is harsh, and Faithfull wants you to feel that harshness in your very bones.  Mission accomplished.

Musically, all the songs are wrapped up in an ambient production that is reminiscent of Pink Floyd with its big guitar and insistent drum beats that are both groovy and unsettling.  I particularly dig the funky guitar featured in “Guilt” and “What’s the Hurry?”

When looking up some other information for this album, I read that Faithfull battled various addictions for years, including in 1979 when she released this record.  I find it difficult to write well after a second beer, and the thought that she could put together a classic album like “Broken English” while fighting addictions to cocaine, heroin and God knows what else just makes the accomplishment all the more amazing.

This album has been in my collection for over twenty years, and it still sounds as fresh and thought-provoking as the day I first heard it.  Thought-provoking and brutally honest, it is a must have in any music collection.

Best tracks:  Broken English, Witches Song, The Ballad of Lucy Jordan, Working Class Hero, Why D’Ya Do It

CD Odyssey Disc 465: The Cure

I finished listening to this next album yesterday, but I couldn’t think of what I wanted to say about it, so I gave it another round.  Then, giving my wife Sheila a ride to a dinner engagement we talked about it a bit and she gave me the inspiration I needed, and some good insights as well.  She’s a clever girl – just like the lead raptor in Jurassic Park, but way better looking and without all the murderous stalking.

On to the album!

Disc 465 is…Disintegration

Artist: The Cure

Year of Release: 1989

What’s up with the Cover?  The world’s creepiest flower collage.  The pale face staring up reminds me of Frodo’s journey through the Dead Marshes in Lord of the Rings, except without any excitement or dramatic tension.  All that I’m left with is a soggy, pointless mess and that picture of Robert Smith.

How I Came To Know It:  As I noted when I reviewed “Bloodflowers” back at Disc 224, Sheila bought the two albums together when they were on sale for a very reasonable price.  This might’ve been about seven or eight years ago now.

How It Stacks Up:  We have three of the Cure’s studio albums.  I like them all well enough, with “Disintegration probably tied with “Bloodflowers” as my favourite.

Rating:  3 stars

“Disintegration” is like a warm tub of water, seasoned with a bath bomb of sorrow and regret.  Just like a long bath it is a pleasant and relaxing experience but not terribly memorable from any other bath after you’re finished and you’ve dried yourself off.

The Cure know how to rock the tub, though.  They are the masters of the wistful drone.  Slow drums, heavily reverbed guitar and Robert Smith singing his emo heart out all cast a quick and heavy-lidded spell on the listener.  This album is heavy with organ and soft bells that add to the overall effect that Something Very Important is happening, and it is threatening to make your heart explode.

Maybe it’s the maudlin in me, but I like the Cure best when they’re playing slow and sorrowful, and “Disintegration” is that kind of record.  These songs are mood pieces that take their time developing.  Many songs are seven or eight minutes long, and take at least a third of their length just building up to Smith singing something.

Following this path is “Pictures of You”, which is the best song on the record (and a minor success as a single).  Clocking in at 7:24, I can only assume there is some soulless radio mix single out there somewhere that is much shorter, but fortunately, it is not included on my version of the CD.  Instead, I get the full experience of someone tearing up old pictures of a relationship now over.  This self-indulgent activity (which we’ve all done) is…er…’picture perfect’ for a Cure song, and they don’t disappoint.  Smith sings that his love is ‘bigger and brighter and wider than snow’ which is just the kind of over wrought metaphor the band consistently gets away with simply by singing it with so much conviction.  The chorus:

“If only I’d thought of the right words

I could have held on to your heart

If only I’d thought of the right words

I wouldn’t be breaking apart

These pictures of you.”

is just the right level of regret.  Even when they overdo it (“I suffocate, I breath in dirt” from “Prayers for Rain” comes to mind) they still mostly pull it off.

The other memorable song (also a radio release) is “Lovesong.” Here Smith gives his (assumedly new) lover credit for pretty much making him emotionally complete.  Much as I love this song, I can’t help think these guys spend too much time in front of a mirror trying to trace their tears with eyeliner so they’ll remember them better later.  It’s a testament to the musicality of the band, and Robert Smith’s great pop vocals that they consistently draw you into teenage angst, even when you are long past being a teenager.

Less impressive is “Lullaby” which is either a strange nightmare or possibly some kind of bizarre sex game.  It features the character of “Spiderman” but instead of rescuing you from the Green Goblin, the song has our famous web-slinger focused on having you for dinner.  Hey, Robert, are you trying to get a job at the Daily Bugle or something?  Spiderman is not a cannibal, he’s a misunderstood hero.  This song and Katrina and the Waves’ “Spiderman” leave me wondering what storylines Marvel is putting in their UK releases.  But I digress…

Apart from “Lullaby” none of the songs on “Disintegration” are annoying, and most are beautiful mood pieces.  You can sink back into the auditory tub they create, filling the room with a Lanois-like sound that lets your heart expand outward three sizes (always appropriate around Christmas).  Of course if you have a broken heart, that means it will just hurt more when you listen, but be honest; that’s why you put it on.

Best tracks:  Pictures of You, Lovesong, Disintegration, The Same Deep Water as You

CD Odyssey Disc 464: Pearl Jam

My weekend is off to a fine start: dinner out with our friend Sherrill, followed by mingling with yet more friends (and quite a few strangers) at the Victoria Art Gallery’s Urbanite event.  Urbanite used to be about 50-100 people dressing up in their best clothes and then going to check out a little bit of art, and do some people watching as well.

Now it has grown to an event about five times the size, but the premise is the same; get dressed up and check each other out.  There is still art, of course, and when you take the time to actually talk to some of the people there you find they’re a pretty interesting crowd with some great stories and insight.  It makes me wonder how I survived the vacuousness of nightclubs all those years in my twenties.

But on to music!

Disc 464 is…Yield

Artist: Pearl Jam

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover?  A yield sign on a highway with no merge lane.  This cover reminds us that sometimes we just have to yield to the road ahead.  If you look carefully, you can also see that the actual yield sign area is cut out, and if you open up the disc cover, you find the same sign, this time standing in an expanse of water.  Again, I like this reminder that sometimes you just gotta yield.  You can’t wrestle with the vastness of the ocean; the tide’s gonna come in regardless, and one day it’s gonna go out.  Try to enjoy the swim while you can.

How I Came To Know It:  This was just me drilling through Pearl Jam’s collection.  I think I had just bought Pearl Jam’s 2002 album “Riot Act” and was loving it so I started drilling backwards into some albums that I’d missed the first time around.

How It Stacks Up:  I have ten Pearl Jam albums.  I like them all in different ways, but I think Yield is the best of them all. Yes, even better than “Ten.”

Rating:  5 stars

Like Blue Oyster Cult, there is a snobbery around Pearl Jam’s discography that relates to their first three albums.  These people must never have taken the time to listen to the brilliance that is the band’s fifth studio album, “Yield.”  “Ten and “Vs." (reviewed way back at Disc 46) are great albums, but “Yield” is every bit their equal and a good deal happier to boot.

Like any band that has any longevity, Pearl Jam’s sound has evolved over the years.  Pearl Jam started their move toward a more polished sound on the much weaker fourth album, “Binaural,” but perfected their new direction on “Yield.” 

“Yield” is still reliant on strong melodies locked into a wall of sound and (of course) the masterful resonance of Eddie Vedder’s voice.  However, the album has the anger and moroseness in the earlier records stripped out, and replaced with some introspection and contemplation of how insignificant we are in the great scheme of things.  I love this new direction, and found the lyrics spoke a lot more strongly to me as a result.

“Wishlist” is the highlight on the lyrics front, as Vedder lays out a list of things and ideas he would like to be if he could transform.  The song begins with the line:

“I wish I were a neutron bomb

For once I could go off.”

Whether we like to admit it or not, a big part of a successful civilization is our ability to hold ourselves together in a world full of a lot of stresses we haven’t really evolved to handle.  In two lines Pearl Jam sums up the tension that is sometimes generated every day, in an appropriately apocalyptic metaphor.  Among my other favourite wishes later in the song are “I wish I was the full moon shining off a Camaro’s hood” and “I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on.”  Good things to be.

Like a lot of songs on “Yield” “Wishlist” is ultimately a positive song about the desire for connectivity, and the ability for all of us to rise above our condition.  “Faithfull” speaks to how we need to have each other’s backs in this world, and “Given to Fly” brings us through a transformation of a wandering martyr, stabbed but rising above to give his love away to all humanity.  (Lest you think this is entirely about Christ, a later song called “Do the Evolution” makes it very clear where Pearl Jam’s sympathies lie on this front). 

While not denominational, “Yield” consistently explores the same themes as many religions.  How we connect, and how (as a very wise man once advised me in a dream) we rise and fall as one.  This album makes me feel good about the human race, and that’s not always an easy sell amidst the many troubling headlines and petty conflicts that flood our psyche every day.

Musically, “Yield” is by far my favourite Pearl Jam album.  All the muddy parts of grunge that annoy me are stripped out and you can hear the beauty of these songs, anthemic, slowly building with just the right amount of guitar reverb to fill a room with energy, but never resorting to distortion or pointless tech-effects.  Sound effects are sprinkled in (like the plane or crashing wave in “Wishlist”) but they are always perfectly timed, and not overused.

Each layer of sound on this album just helps build the emotional tone.  The music fills you up, and gives you that wistful side to side sway to your head, like Stevie Wonder does when he’s really rocking out, only slower and more transcendent.

There are a couple of weaker tracks on ‘side two’ of “Yield” like “Push Me, Pull You” which is too clever by half, and while I love “All Those Yesterdays” the song is too long, and ends with a strange Indian music sound that is out of place stylistically with the rest of both the song and the record as a whole.  However, these moments are too short to detract from the overall impact.

After many of their earlier albums explored the more base elements of the human condition, I found it refreshing that on “Yield” Pearl Jam turn their attention to what we can aspire to as a species, and how that simple aspiration can have a very real effect at making us better individuals.  It certainly makes for some pretty inspirational music.  If you liked this band in the past, but stopped listening to them after “Vitalogy” here’s where you should re-start the conversation.

Best tracks:  Almost all of them, but in particular Faithfull, No Way, Given To Fly, Wishlist, Pilate, In Hiding, All Those Yesterdays

CD Odyssey Disc 463: Blue Oyster Cult

Back when I worked sorting bottles at a recycling depot we used to listen to a radio station that had what they called "a house band’ which was basically their adoptive band; first in their hearts and frequently played.  This next band is my ‘house band.’  As this blog attests, I like a lot of different kinds of music, but few are as close to my heart as these guys.

Disc 463 is…Agents of Fortune

Artist: Blue Oyster Cult

Year of Release: 1976

What’s up with the Cover?  This cover is awesome – so awesome I spent fifteen minutes just looking up the artist (Lynn Curlee) who still has a studio in New York City. 

It looks like some sort of cross between the Men in Black, a fortune teller and a Vegas blackjack dealer shows four of his finest cards.  All the while, the dealer is giving the coolest of one finger points down low, subtly drawing your attention to the Blue Oyster Cult symbol that is always featured somewhere on BOC covers.  When I was a kid my older brother Virgil would make a game of taking out his Blue Oyster Cult LPs and getting me to find all the BOC symbols on the cover of each.  No wonder BOC is my house band.

Speaking of Virgil, I’ve always thought this guy looked a lot like him, except that my brother has worn a tuxedo exactly never (I think he once put on a tie for one of his best friend’s weddings.  He’s more the outdoorsy type.

How I Came To Know It:  If you’ve been reading along you’ll deduce that I’ve known this album since I was a kid.  My brother bought it when it came out (I was six, he was thirteen) and I’ve been listening to it ever since.  Admittedly the other kids in Grade One did not know what I was going on about, but I was pretty certain this was cooler than Sean Cassidy and Donnie Osmond.  I think time has proved me right.

How It Stacks Up:  I have eleven studio albums by BOC, which is everything up to Imaginos (as well as three live albums).  “Agents of Fortune” is awesome, but competition is fierce at the top.  I’ll put it solidly in 5^th place, just edging out “Cultosaurus Erectus” (reviewed back at Disc 206).

Rating:  4 stars

After three albums of dark progressive rock, “Agents of Fortune” draws Blue Oyster Cult down a slightly different path, as they incorporate pop and jazz elements into their work.  It is a departure that not all early fans liked, but I think it works fabulously.

The great hit that has sadly overshadowed this album is “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper,” which despite being played with great consistency on the radio for over thirty five years, is as fresh today as it ever was.  You could release that song for the first time ever tomorrow and it would still be an instant classic.  However, I’d prefer to focus on some of the songs readers may not know (likely most of them, if you are not a BOC junkie).

“E.T.I.” is one of the finest rock riffs ever written; a song that grabs you by your tender parts with its first notes and never lets go.  Sure, the topic is some strange encounter with a spaceship (that may or may not have some kind of elder gods or demons onboard – I’m never certain).  That’s just Blue Oyster Cult.  They’re not content to write a kick ass riff and then waste it on such obvious topics of love, death or rock and roll.  If it doesn’t feature a King in Yellow and a Queen in Red it isn’t finished yet – and all the better if you’re not sure who the hell these people(?) are.  Did I mention this is one of the finest rock riffs ever written?  If you don’t like the weirdness that accompanies it then feel free to ignore that part, but I challenge you not to bob your head until your (hopefully) long hair falls in front of your face.

One of my great loves about Blue Oyster Cult is that they are truly a band.  No instrument – not vocals, not guitar, not horn – dominates over any other.  Everything gets a fair shake in the mix, and this in turn allows you to really appreciate how all the parts come together.

Sometimes this means genius guitar playing by Buck Dharma doesn’t get the attention it deserves, but that just makes me like him more as the most unassuming axe-god in rock and roll.  When he does get a tasteful minute or two of guitar solo, such as on “Sinful Love” he reminds you of how great he is, the greater that he knows just when to say when.

Pop elements emerge on songs like “True Confessions” which with its jangly piano and sparse arrangement sounds more like a fifties hit.  Around this time Blue Oyster Cult starts to show their musical roots, and that they no doubt grew up with: Bill Haley, doo-wop and Buddy Holly.  On “True Confessions” Buck even shares his guitar solo time with a horn section.

“Debbie Denise” is a straight ahead pop song, about a girl who waits patiently for her musician boyfriend to come home.  She waits by the window for her man to come home – first patiently, later bitterly – but the singer advises ‘I was out rolling with my band” and not coming home.  Set to piano and cymbals, and sung at times in falsetto (I think by Dharma, who also has good rock chops), this song kicks the crap out of much more famous songs on the subject, like Kiss’ “Beth.”

Despite these dalliances, there is still plenty of prog to go around, particularly on songs like “Tattoo Vampire” and “Tenderloin.” Both songs are about the seedy side of rock and roll.  “Tattoo Vampire” is about visiting a Chinese tattoo parlour.  It starts with a beat that sounds like someone shaking a box of cards before launching into a catchy blues riff.  However, this being Blue Oyster Cult it quickly fades into yet another brilliant Buck Dharma guitar piece, weird and roomy with the hint of Allen Lanier’s keyboards in the background reminding you that in 1976 visiting a tattoo parlour was still a wild, dangerous and edgy thing to do.

“Tenderloin” is more like a beefed up jazz riff, trilling synthesizer and guitar setting the stage for an all-night party that only ends when the drugs runs out.  No sooner does Eric Bloom sing:

“I come to you in a blue, blue room

By some abuse and some heart

You raise the blinds say

‘Let’s have light on life

Let’s watch it fall apart.”

That the music follows suit, with the song descends into a weird jazz odyssey that – despite all the careful effort to pull it in different directions – is always at its core pure rock and roll.

Maybe the greatest testament to this album is that I’ve known it almost my entire life and I still love listening to it in its entirety.  Like most BOC albums, I also own it on vinyl, and when I put it on the turntable I’m never disappointed.  “Agents of Fortune” has great musicianship, a range of style and of song choice spread over a tastefully restrained ten tracks, and music that combines both the simple energy of rock and roll with complex nuances that appeal to an experienced listener.

Bonus Tracks:

 “Agents of Fortune” is one of four BOC albums that were remastered a few years ago and a few extra tracks were added to each.  I’m not always a fan of this, but the added tracks are far more interesting than usual.  Of the four, two are particularly interesting.

The first is the original 4-track demo of “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper,” which is known as the ‘no cowbell version’ for reasons I will let you deduce on your own.  Slightly slower, and all the more haunting for not having any extra production value, I like it almost as much as the one that was included on the original record.  Sheila even has both versions on her MP3 player.

The other cool track is a completely different version of the song “Fire of Unknown Origin” which would eventually appear on the 1981 classic album of the same name.  The lyrics are exactly the same, but the song is completely different.  Musically it is not a different version, but a completely different tune.  It is surprisingly good, and it amazes me with how completely unlike the original it is – opting for a weird and Lovecraftian minor chord structure over the more rock approach the final version ends up with.

The other two bonus tracks aren’t as good.  “Sally” is a bit of strange sixties throwback, and “Dance the Night Away” is a fairly atrocious demo by Allen Lanier that was fortunately never originally included on a studio album in any form.

I prefer bonus tracks on a separate disc, but these ones I can live with, and even enjoy.  Also, it would take a really bad four song selection to wreck the excellence that comes before.

Best tracks:  (Don’t Fear) The Reaper (both versions), E.T.I. (Extra Terrestrial Intelligence), Sinful Love, Morning Final, Tenderloin, Debbie Denise

CD Odyssey Disc 462: Broken Bells

I’m feeling very much in the holiday spirit this week, by which I mean I’d like the holiday season to begin.

I could have reviewed this album yesterday, but I wanted to get a couple listens under my belt.  I hear this album a fair bit in the house (it is a Sheila mainstay) but it is often on shuffle with other music and I wanted to grok it in its fullness as a complete album instead.

Disc 462 is… Broken Bells (Self-Titled) 

Artist: Broken Bells

Year of Release: 2010

What’s up with the Cover?  I have no idea.  Some sort of pink geometric shape, or maybe a microscopic space ship flying through Inner Space (hence the open port in the top left).  It also reminds me of a paper lantern without a proper candle.

How I Came To Know It:  Sheila is a big Shins fan, and I believe she got wind of this spin off project of James Mercer teaming up with Danger Mouse.  I think she heard it on the radio, of all places.

How It Stacks Up:  This is the only Broken Bells album.  In terms of Mercer’s other work, it holds its own with his Shins catalogue, which is saying something.

Rating:  4 stars

Over the weekend I went to my first after-hours party in a while.  Despite good company, I didn’t stay long and the biggest reason was I simply couldn’t figure out how to dance to the music the kids are playing these days (dubstep?).  Those who like it must have their reasons, but for me it just doesn’t have any dynamics or melody to get my limbs moving.  Every time I thought it was about to launch into something interesting it would just subside into that slow, directionless beat forcing me to shuffle along, rather than cut a rug.

Music by James Mercer does not suffer from this lack of direction.  He always has beautiful melodies, although his work with the Shins trends toward the folksy side of pop.  That is where collaborator Danger Mouse comes in on “Broken Bells” giving Mercer’s melodies a nice hip hop groove that infuses them with a disco-like energy.

The result sounds like a cross-breeding of the Shins with the Gorillaz.  This is not surprising given that Danger Mouse also produced my favourite Gorillaz album (2005’s “Demon Days” reviewed way back at Disc 138).

Often drawn in by the Shins haunting lyrics, with Broken Bells I found myself rarely trying to pay attention to the words of the songs.  Even when I lent an effort to doing so, searching for something good to quote for the blog, I was quickly led off of my intent and back to just listening to Mercer’s voice as another instrument, carrying melody over top of the natural groove of the song.

This is not a complaint, either.  This is one smooth record.  In addition to great songwriting, it makes very judicious production and arrangement decisions throughout.  Backup vocals often come in mid-bar, sometimes supporting the chorus, sometimes just a mood-establishing hum.  Danger Mouse knows when a piano is called for, when to go with guitar and when to go full electronica.  In every case the mix is a delicious soup of sound.

The album's opening track, "The High Road," begins with a jazz odyssey on what I think is the organ, but that quickly bounces into one of Mercer’s effortless melodies before too much harm is caused.  Danger Mouse wraps the production around Mercer’s genius like a blanket, shielding out the cold disconnect sometimes present in Shins songs.

“The Ghost Inside” has Mercer’s falsetto on full display, and with its urgent groove and synth-organ riff this song was that most uncommon thing; a radio hit that deserves to be as popular as it is.

Despite “Ghost Inside’s” success it is the album as a whole that casts a larger spell than any individual track.  There is a natural and consistent flow that draws you in, and before you know it it’s over and you’re back to track one pressing replay, wondering where one song ended and another began.  The singles stand out less, principally because of the solidly high standard of the music throughout.  Does it lack a small bit of range as a result?  Yes, but if there were more peaks and valleys it would actually detract from the mood it establishes.  Note to techno: this is proof that you can have this effect and not be boring in the process.

It is no accident that “Broken Bells” only has ten songs, none of which are over four and a half minutes.  In 2010 this type of studio restraint is admirable.  A record is like any work of art; it should be only as complex as it needs to be to tell its story and no longer.  Broken Bells gets this formula right.  I wish more artists were equally judicious in their song choices.

I feel like a lot of what Mercer learned from this record went into the new Shins album “Port of Morrow” and I’m glad that it did.  “Broken Bells” proves that there is still good pop music being made that is both danceable and intelligently composed.  Occasionally, this good music even bubbles up onto mainstream radio. 

Best tracks:  The High Road, Your Head is On Fire, The Ghost Inside, Trap Doors, The Mall and Misery

CD Odyssey Disc 461: Judas Priest

Yesterday I spent the day running errands and listening to this album the old fashioned way; in my car at high volume.  Errands included buying vacuum cleaner bags, dropping off some documents for my strata and doing some banking.  It would seem that adulthood has snuck up on me.

Fortunately, I spent today putting some themed playlists together and generally goofing off.  Thank goodness there will always be music to keep me young.

Disc 461 is… Sad Wings of Destiny

Artist: Judas Priest

Year of Release: 1976

What’s up with the Cover?  This is one of my favourite album covers in all of my collection; certainly top five in terms of heavy metal albums.  An angel falls into hell, seemingly weighed down by that Judas Priest necklace it is wearing.  Unlike the INXS album cover I just reviewed, if I were fifteen I would totally put this poster on my wall.  The colours even match my bedroom now.  Now how to convince Sheila this is a good idea…

How I Came To Know It:  I’ve been a Judas Priest fan since I was a teenager, but only in the last few years did my interest rekindle, largely at the urging of my buddy Ross.  This particular album I bought a bit later, maybe in the last three or four years, and it is just me drilling through their earlier records.

How It Stacks Up:  I have twelve Judas Priest albums.  “Sad Wings of Destiny” is pretty awesome but the competition is fierce at the top.  I’ll put this one about 7^th or 8^th best, depending on my mood.

Rating:  3 stars

Listening to early Judas Priest I am always impressed with how early they discovered the sound that later would become synonymous with eighties metal.  “Sad Wings of Destiny” dates back to 1976, and is a pioneer and harbinger of the heavy that would come to dominate the genre in later years.

At the same time, there are prog and even folk elements mixed in with the heavy, not unlike “Rocka Rolla,” (reviewed way back at Disc 41). I like the presence of both of these other influences, and I think they add an interesting range to the music.

The first track, “Victim of Changes” covers it all in one song.  It starts with a heavy metal riff that would’ve been massive ten years later, but in 1976 must have been like a bolt of thunder thrown by an angry god.  Midway through the song it shifts to a slower, folk-inspired song that sounds a little like Jethro Tull on steroids, before returning to the opening riff to close on a high note.

The rest of the record is good, but it never quite measures up to the greatness of “Victim of Changes.”  “The Ripper” is an up-tempo ditty about Jack the Ripper, told from the killer’s perspective, and has some fine guitar work soaring through it.  Rob Halford’s vocals are tempered down a bit into a more traditional staccato rock delivery, which lets the guitars speak.

The album then descends into a bit of a prog feel, with a series of songs (“Dreamer Deceiver”, “Deceiver”, “Prelude”) that seems to want to build a larger story but doesn’t quite take off.  It reminds me a bit of Blue Oyster Cult’s 1974 album “Secret Treaties” in that it is like half the album is held together by a concept, but the other half is populated with singles and one-offs.  “Secret Treaties” inherent greatness buoys this internal conflict much better, however, and on “Sad Wings of Destiny” I feel like the tension pulls the record apart in places, rather than helping drive it forward.

I do like Priest making an effort to sing about the wild and wacky things that populate hard rock in the seventies and eighties; mythical evil overlords, infernal beasts and historical killers.  In particular, I like “Tyrant” which sounds like something Blue Oyster Cult would’ve recorded on their first few albums.  This song also features some fine guitar riffs and solos – the dual leads of Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing has always been a Priest strong suit.

The energy of the album is pulled down by the two interlude pieces, “Prelude” and “Epitaph” where Priest comes off as trying to match Queen’s signature sound and falling short.  However, that isn’t to say there isn’t energy.  Halford’s voice can put chills up the spine of a corpse, and apart from these two tracks the album is visceral and powerful.

This is a good album, and it doesn’t receive the credit it deserves from the mainstream. It is later overshadowed by some truly great albums from Judas Priest, but it holds its own and is as good as anything coming out of the hard rock scene in the mid-seventies, and that is saying something.

Best tracks:  Victim of Changes, The Ripper, Tyrant

CD Odyssey Disc 460: INXS

It’s been a wacky week so far.  On Sunday we lost our power and I had to help rescue a neighbour from the elevator who was trapped as a result.  After a couple fumbling efforts with a screwdriver I did what any red-blooded man would do; I called the fire department.  They had him out in about five minutes. 

Then it was three days of frantic work, so I could take Thursday and Friday off and enjoy a long weekend with friends.  I just finished the final redraft in my football pool, and now a torrent of social engagements now awaits, but first  – more music reviews!

My last review was of an album from 1980 that was firmly grounded musically in the 1970s.  Now I’ve rolled an album that is from 1990 but firmly grounded musically in the 1980s.

Disc 460 is… X

Artist: INXS

Year of Release: 1990

What’s up with the Cover?  A giant INXS logo, with a tiny bit of Michael Hutchence’s hair in one corner.  If you fold out this cover it is a very lame poster of the band which no doubt many a teenage girl put up on the walls of her room.  Mine shall remain safely in its jewel case.

How I Came To Know It:  I bought this album when it came out, at a time when I owned very few CDs (I only started buying CDs in 1989).  At that time I had limited money (i.e. I was broke) and I had to like at least three songs before I would consider buying an album.  “X” qualified.

How It Stacks Up:  In my last INXS review back at Disc 362 I only had three INXS albums, but I have since purchased a fourth (thanks to our friends Gord and Dawn, who were liquidating their collection).  Of the four, “X” is probably third best, just behind “Listen Like Thieves” which I reviewed back at Disc 292.

Rating:  3 stars

It isn’t a good sign when after listening to an album for three straight days you find you have less to say about it then when you started, but such is my plight approaching the review of INXS’ “X”.

Coming into the review of an album I’ve known for so long is strange.  I don’t remember buying it; like a very old chair it just seems to have always been in my house.  I think I purchased this album at a difficult time in my life and maybe I’ve blocked a lot of my early listening experience out as a result.  I definitely remember it having more emotional resonance back then.

Now I see it more clearly, which is as another solid entry into INXS’ unique style of eighties pop; although as I noted in the teaser, just slightly removed from the eighties.

The sound is definitely of its time, with heavy drum machine sounds, and proto-electronic bass licks.  The guitar is set back in the mix but that is just as well, since the star of INXS is and always will be Michael Hutchence.  He is the perfect eighties pop voice and he sings every song with gusto, making some pretty basic lyrics sound slightly more important just through force of will.

Case in point is “Faith in Each Other” which may have a groovy bass line, but is also a hot mess of saxophone, drum machine and what I think might be an ill-placed triangle.  Still, when Hutchence tells us to “have faith in each other”, he manages to shine more than a little meaning into the song through the thick glaze of unfortunate production.

Much better is the ballad, “By My Side,” one of my favourite INXS songs.  This is a song about longing, and how you can be surrounded by strangers and still just be thinking of the one person that isn’t there.  When Michael Hutchence sings about the small hours in the dark of night, he transports us there, even as he pines for someone else to join him.  This song is a fitting bookend to the more famous “Never Tear Us Apart” from the preceding album, “Kick.”  “Never Tear Us Apart” is a defiant song about cleaving together despite pressures to the contrary.  “By My Side” is a song featuring a much more intimate closeness, shrouded in night’s cloak, and held together by the tension of longing for connection, without ever quite achieving it.

The two big hits were the upbeat “Suicide Blonde” and “Disappear,” both great pop songs that were fun to dance to but without a lot to say about them beyond that.  I slightly prefer “Disappear”, mostly for the “doo du doo doo du doo doo” background vocals, matched with Hutchence in fine form singing just south of falsetto.  It’s kind of like Fine Young Cannibals, except enjoyable.

The last song worth mentioning is “Know the Difference” which I do remember being an important song when I was younger.  The lyric:

“What you do and what you say?

Do you know the difference anyway?”

Has always appealed to me.  Strangely, I always thought this was a song about the importance of honesty, but closer examination of the lyrics this time around shows it is really about pining for a girl that the singer can’t have, and resorting to belittling her reputation around town.  I guess I never really listened that carefully before.  Now it rings more like sour grapes and jealousy than an insight into hypocrisy.   

Because of a busy work schedule I’ve listened to this album many times over in the past three days, and I can definitively state it is good, but not great.  The songs are easy to listen to, but it isn’t challenging, and I was admittedly a little bored at times.  I’m in the mood for more of an active engagement to the music in my life, either through the music or the lyrics.  “X” just doesn’t have a lot to say, even though it says it very well.

Best tracks:  Suicide Blonde, Disappear, By My Side, Know the Difference