CD Odyssey Disc 563: REM

It has been a crazy week so far, full of both stress and triumph.

On Sunday, our cat Vizzini started throwing up and couldn’t keep food down all day.  We spent Sunday afternoon at animal emergency, and then I returned for round two on Monday morning.  He was in care all day Monday and then whatever was causing him distress left as mysteriously as it arrived.  Today he finally seemed fully back to his old self, and I was never so happy to clean his litter box and find evidence that his digestive tract was again working correctly.

In happier news, Sheila was been selected as a finalist for the “Unlimited Woman” awards in the ‘style’ category.  This is no surprise to me, but if you don’t happen to know her awesome style blog, “Sheila Ephemera” then check it out!  She’s the one who encouraged me to start my blog in the first place.  She’s become a fashion icon along the way, inspiring women near and far to put their best and most fashionable foot forward and be fabulous.  Congratulations, Sheila!

Speaking of Sheila, here’s a review for another album she introduced to me – she inspires musically as well!

Disc 563 is…. Automatic for the People

Artist: R.E.M.

Year of Release: 1992

What’s up with the Cover?  I have no idea.  The head of a mace?  Early communist art?  A second world war tank obstacle?  I kind of like it even though I have no idea what it is.

How I Came To Know It:  This was a pretty big album, and I knew some of the singles from music videos (which were still a thing in the early nineties).  However it was Sheila that helped me know the album, as this is one of her favourites.

How It Stacks Up:  We have six R.EM. albums.  When I reviewed “Document” back at Disc 544 I said it was my favourite, but now that I’ve given a critical listen to “Automatic for the People” I’m going to have to admit that Sheila was right all along – it is their best.

Rating:  5 stars

I did a lot of driving around earlier this week, ferrying the cat to and from appointments and as a result I did a lot of listening to this album in the car, rather than on headphones walking to work.  Given the atmospheric sound of “Automatic for the People” this could have resulted in my giving the album short shrift.  Instead it drew me in so much that I gave it an extra day just so I could hear it on headphones as well.

Given how I was initially listening to it, it’s fitting that the record opens with a song called “Drive.” “Drive” is a good example of how songs throughout the record are constructed.  The song opens with a simple guitar melody and Michael Stipe’s haunting vibrato then cuts in with a perfect dissonance, like an undercurrent in a riptide, pulling the song in an unexpected direction.  Later, a string section swells in the background adding atmosphere before the guitar returns again, this time blasting out a mournful rift.

The whole album has the same layered approach as “Drive”, where each element of the song seems to develop just underneath the one preceding it.  Despite the layering the songs are simple at their core, and the effect never muddies them.  The album is a lot more polished in this respect than earlier R.E.M., but the polish only augments the music itself.

This is very introspective record, and many of the songs explore themes of alienation and depression.  “Try Not to Breathe” is the song of an old man who having lived a full life is ready to die.  It is a song that captures what I can only imagine; what it is like to be so close to death that to pass away is as simple as trying not to breathe.  It is a song that reminds us that the will to live is strong, sometimes stronger even than our own conscious desire to continue.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is the album’s five-star gem, “Everybody Hurts.”  This is a simple song reminding us that even in our deepest depression, there are others all around us equally lost.  It is a sad song, but ultimately life-affirming.  Everyone may not be hurting about the same thing, but we’re all hurting about something.  The song’s construction is brilliant, starting with stripped down guitar and piano and Stipe singing his simple plea:

“When your day is long

 And the night, the night is yours alone

 When you're sure you've had enough

 Of this life, well hang on

“Don't let yourself go

 'Cause everybody cries

 And everybody hurts sometimes”

The song slowly builds from mournful isolation into an orchestra of triumph as Stipe repeatedly calls on us to ‘hold on.’  Songs like “Everybody Hurts” can very easily go wrong and end up sounding false and forced, but the band nails this one.  When I’m having a bad day, hearing this song makes me feel like things are going to be alright.  When I am having a good day, hearing this song reminds me to put an arm around a friend who isn’t doing as well and give them comfort.  The song isn’t just about hope, it is about that quality we’re all going to need more of for our crazy species to make a go of it in the long run – empathy.

“Sweetness Follows” and “Night Swimming” are particularly pretty songs that remind me to appreciate and fully experience life, whether it is because one day we’ll lose those close to us (“Sweetness Follows”) or simply because we can remember great moments of living, like the first time you go skinny dipping at night with friends (“Night Swimming”).

The political commentary is a slight weakness on the album, and as I noted in previous reviews, “Ignoreland” is an OK song, but I prefer “Exhuming McCarthy” from “Document” for both its tune and its more subtle delivery.  This is not enough to knock this album out of five star territory, however.  “Automatic for the People” is just too strong overall.

The album is a tasteful twelve songs, and is slowly but inexorably wraps you in its spell.  The ambient quality to the production wraps you up like you are swimming in the ocean; cold at first, but then buoyant and immersive, making you feel the enormity of something larger than yourself.

While I can appreciate why a lot of fans prefer the more raw sound of earlier albums, for me this album is them at their best, even if it took a whole bunch of years for me to finally realize this was the case.

Best tracks:   All tracks, although less so Ignoreland and Star Me Kitten

CD Odyssey Disc 562: The Cars

I meant to write this review on Thursday but I was dog-tired and so here I am instead, up early despite last night celebrating my friend Chris’ birthday.  Happy birthday, Chris!

Earlier this week I watched some Jools Holland (I have about 35 left from when I taped them off of the HIFI channel).  Jools featured Ray Davies from the Kinks (recently reviewed) and also Cyndi Lauper.  Although I can’t say I liked Cyndi’s interpretation of blues standards, I really liked her – pushing sixty but still looking great, wrapped all in leather pants and attitude.

But enough of Cyndi, let’s return to another eighties icon.

Disc 562 is…. Heartbeat City

Artist: The Cars

Year of Release: 1984

What’s up with the Cover?  Half pin-up girl, half muscle car poster.  That’s about as good as it gets.  This is half of a 1972 drawing by Peter Phillips entitled “Art-O-Matic Loop Di Loop” which is a pretty bad title, but a cool drawing.  Here’s the entire thing:

Note the traditional pin-up art trick of making the girl's legs twice as long as they'd be in real life?  I love that trick.

How I Came To Know It:  This was a big album when I was in high school, with lots of associated music videos, so I knew the hits fairly well, but it was Sheila who introduced me to the full album.

How It Stacks Up:  We have three Cars albums.  Their self-titled debut is the best, and I’ll say “Heartbeat City” is second, although I reserve the right to bump “Candy-O” into that position if it suitably impresses me when I roll it.

Rating:  3 stars but almost 4

I never thought an album so full of organ, synthesizer and (egads) drum machine could be this much fun, but the Cars’ “Heartbeat City” pulls it off.

The album jumps out with energy and enthusiasm with “Hello Again” the first of five hit singles on the record.  “Hello Again” is my least favourite of the singles, but I am still awed by how much human energy these guys can create from a simple piano riff and a bunch of weird synth effects.

It helps to have Ric Ocasek as a lead singer.  His voice is perfectly suited to this style of music, with its short choppy lines and New Wave feel.  He sounds otherworldly and right on the edge of making fun of his own affectations, with never going over.

Ironically one of the album’s most famous tracks, “Drive” is sung by bass player Benjamin Orr.  Orr plays Roger Taylor to Ocasek’s Mercury on “Drive.” Like Taylor, Orr has a high and unpretentious crooning that breaks from the more theatrical delivery of Ocasek.  It is a perfect fit for the romantic ballad he sings on.

“Drive” was one of those magical slow songs at a high school dance.  Girls loved to dance to it, so you could almost always find a partner to press up against for four minutes.  If there is anything in high school more magical than getting the girl you like to slow dance with you, I can’t think of it right now, so thanks for the memories, Benjamin. 

Of course the king of all slow dance songs remains “Stairway to Heaven” but if you want to read about that, you’ll have to back a couple years in the Odyssey to when I reviewed it back at Disc 342.

The best and biggest of the hits on “Heartbeat City” is “Magic” however, with its ELO-inspired synth opening, cutting immediately to a hard-edged guitar riff before Ocasek breaks all the musical tension, emphatically singing:

“Summer!

Turns me upside down

Summer summer summer

It’s like a merry-go round.”

I don’t know how lyrics this empty of content can be so cool, but this song is undeniably cool.  It is fun to sing along to, fun to drive along to, and just generally makes you think of those summers where you’ve got no responsibility other than finding $10 to put in the gas tank so you can take your girl to the beach.  Enjoy those summers, friends, because there aren’t very many of them over the course of your life.

In fact the worst thing about the hits on this record, are the truly stupid videos it spawned.  I particularly remember “You Might Think” which featured Ocasek, model Susan Gallagher and a bunch of badly done computer graphics.  Worst of all it was popular on the video channels.  I remember other kids at high school talking about how cool the video was, and what annoyed me the most was that it was a good song being buried in stupid visuals.  It deserved better.  For starters, I would’ve gone with less of Ric Ocasek’s head put onto the body of a fly and more of Susan Gallagher.  Maybe at the aforementioned beach?  But I digress…

Side two of the album is less hit-driven and more experimental, as side twos generally are in the era of vinyl. In many respects, side two is a throwback to their earlier albums’ hard-edged punk and new wave influences but updated to the eighties by famous producer Mutt Lange.  For the most part, he doesn’t wreck them in the process.

“Looking for Love” is a pretty little track that is mostly guitar driven, which makes it feel slightly out of place on the record if only because of its normalcy, but I like it. “It’s Not the Night” sounds a bit too Laura Branigan for my tastes.  “I Refuse” is the worst in eighties music, with its empty, strained chorus and beat that generates images in your mind of bad eighties dancers swinging their loosely clenched fists from side to side.

“Why Can’t I Have You” is this album’s “Moving in Stereo” with an alien sounding production filled with synth-Goth organ and robotic hand claps.  It sounds like it would be terrible, but it is actually brilliant.  The cars manage to perfectly blend true romantic yearning in with the disconnected feel of the song’s tune to capture the numb despair of loving somebody who doesn’t love you back.

This is a very good record from a band that demonstrates that you can update your sound with the times and still maintain the artistic integrity that got you famous in the first place.

Best tracks:   Looking For Love, Magic, Drive, You Might Think, Why Can’t I Have You

CD Odyssey Disc 561: Band of Horses

Lately a combination of a busy schedule and some long albums has slowed the progress of the CD Odyssey, but I am determined to get things rolling again.  Having an album I was ready to get through quickly is also a motivator.

Disc 561 is…. Everything All The Time

Artist: Band of Horses

Year of Release: 2006

What’s up with the Cover?  A picture (or painting, it is hard to tell) of some trees, where the reflection of the trees look like roots.  I like the effect.

How I Came To Know It:  I first heard Band of Horses when they opened for Beck about five years ago.  I bought their second album, “Cease to Begin” and liked it so decided to buy the previous album, which was this one.

How It Stacks Up:  We now have four Band of Horses albums.  “Everything All The Time” is my least favourite.

Rating:  2 stars

Earlier tonight I watched Tom Jones perform John Lee Hooker’s “Burning Hell” on the Jools Holland show.  Tom really nailed it (earlier he’d done Dylan’s “What Good Am I?” equally well). The experience reinforced in me that a great vocal performance is about feeling what you’re saying as much as it is about hitting all the notes.  What does all this have to do with Band of Horses’ debut album?  Well, let’s just say I wish they’d put the same kind of emotional effort into it.

So yes, I didn’t love this album, which is too bad, because I admire Band of Horses and generally like their stuff.  “Everything All The Time” has just a few too many of the classic modern indie problems for me to love it the way it wants to be loved, however.

For starters, I would have liked a little less sound crammed into the arrangement.  Music exists in the spaces between notes as much as the notes themselves, and most of the songs on “Everything” have a busy quality, and melodies that aren’t engaging enough to rise above the auditory mire. Bad indie pop is like bad power metal; both have all the hallmarks of their original genres but insist on playing everything really fast to show virtuosity.  Slow down guys, and enjoy yourselves a bit more, and so will your audience.

One of the worst examples on “Everything” is “Wicked Gil”, where it feels like the guitar is just being hammered away on to the point where it might as well just be another set of drums. The band can play well enough, and they are incredibly tight, but there’s a metronome quality to their music that detracts from any emotional content.

Ben Bridwell has the voice that modern indie bands all pine for; high with a hint of vibrato. This voice can work well, but it can also feel disengaged, and on “Everything…” Bridwell is more often in the latter category.  Listening to Tom Jones earlier helped demonstrate what was lacking on my Band of Horses experience earlier in the day.  Great singers make you feel the lyrics, each time like you’re hearing them for the first time.

On this album, Bridwell seems content to have his voice be one of many instruments.  That’s partly true of course, but phrasing is important if you want to connect with your audience.  Most of the time I struggled to pay attention to a word he was saying, let alone understand the theme of an entire song.

Because I wanted to understand better, I took a look inside the ‘booklet’ to read the lyrics while I listened, but instead of lyrics the band has put a series of pictures that look like they were taken for some junior high photography class.  Since a picture is worth a thousand words, here’s a little snapshot of the snapshots.

OK, here we have considerably less than a thousand words worth of commentary so I’ll just go with “hand, plane, transformer, wires and Grandpa’s sitting room at the home.”  Annoying art cards is not value-added content for the CD buyer. 

Instead, they could have included the lyrics to this album’s one true classic song, “Funeral.” Bridwell sings his self-deprecated heart out as he confesses, “At every occasion I'll be ready for a funeral.”  It isn’t much on the page, but it is pretty in the song, which is stripped down and melancholy in a way that most of the other songs don’t match.  Sheila considers it a five star song, and while I wouldn’t go that far, it is damned fine.

“The Funeral” is followed by the poetic but poorly titled “Part One” and the anthemic “Great Salt Lake” and these three songs form the foundation for what is best on the album and save it from the sell pile.

Sadly, the album descends again into a jangly mess again with “Weed Party,” and never really fully recovers.  “Weed Party” and a few others on the album demonstrate that with production decisions, “Everything All The Time” is usually a bad approach.

This album is better than some of my unkind comments would suggest, and it earns its two stars fair and square.  If I seem unkind, it is because I know this band is capable of so much more.  On this first album they are still figuring out how to fit in the things that make them unique consistently into songs that are still pretty, and resonant to the soul.  It isn’t as easy as it looks, but they do get there in places.

Best tracks:   The Funeral, Part One, Great Salt Lake

CD Odyssey Disc 560: The Kinks

I’ve been up since four o’clock this morning so I’m getting this entry in before my pumpkin bursts.  This pumpkin metaphor brought to you by the month of October!

Disc 560 is…. Come Dancing with the Kinks

Artist: The Kinks

Year of Release: 1986 but with music from 1977 to 1984

What’s up with the Cover?  A gentleman (I think it is Kinks’ frontman Ray Davies) takes a turn with a girl.  He’s well dressed, but there’s something sinister in that sidelong glance he’s flashing the audience.  Someone should remind him that when dancing, it is your job to make your partner feel like she’s the only girl in the room.

How I Came To Know It:  While a lot of individual Kinks songs are pretty well known, this is Sheila’s album.  It is a damned good one.

How It Stacks Up:  This is our only Kinks album, but even if it weren’t, compilation albums don’t stack up.  Just doesn’t make sense.

Rating:  n/a – best of albums don’t get rated, but if this one were, it would do very well.

I had no idea so many of those great individual songs I heard over the years were all by the Kinks until Sheila introduced me to this compilation.  The Kinks have a knack for writing very simple, very beautiful melodies and then arranging them in a way that perfectly straddles rock and pop.

Admittedly, this is a best of album, but it is still impressive how many catchy songs these guys can write and in so many different styles.  At times they sound like New Wave (“Destroyer”), and at other times they sound like sixties pop (“A Rock and Roll Fantasy”).  On “(Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman” they basically reinvent disco music in their own style and make that work too.

When you hear these songs individually (as I heard them through my life on the radio) you might think they are all by a different band, but when they’re all collected for your convenience they have a common song structure that is unique to the Kinks.

Equally impressive, this album is a compilation of only a portion of their career (1977 through 1986).  They had thirteen years – and fourteen studio albums – worth of music that isn’t even included.

Subject-wise, the album covers a lot of ground, from basic punk basics of “You Really Got Me” to the light-hearted poverty of “Low Budget.”  There is the famous gender-bending action of “Lola,” a wistful recollection of early dance clubs with “Come Dancing” and even a song about mugging Santa Claus (“Father Christmas.”)  All are fun in their own way, although “You Really Got Me” has not survived the years of overplay and karaoke butchery as well as the others.

There are some misses, most notably the band’s effort to affect Bob Dylan’s vocal style on “Long Distance” and the album is slightly too long at 16 tracks, but since it is a compilation album, it can be forgiven this one time.

Another minor quibble is that the songs are not in chronological order, and while care has been taken to give the record a nice flow, I prefer greatest hits packages to play out in order of release.

Three of the songs, “You Really Got Me,” “Lola,” and Celluloid Heroes” are live versions and although good, in every case I think I would have preferred the studio version.  “Celluloid Heroes” is too long, and “Lola” has an overlong intro where the band teases the audience that they may not actually play the song for them.

Then again, “Lola” has a lot of visceral energy that is provided by the audience.  It demonstrates that audience participation can work surprisingly well when handled correctly.  In my experience when an audience is jazzed up to sing along, there is a rule that the amount of volume an individual audience member will sing at is typically in direct proportion to how well they know the song.  It is uncanny how this rule ensures that for the most part, audiences keep good time, and stay on key.  The unsure and tone deaf just mumble along and add volume, and those in the know carry the day.

Another odd note is how one of these songs, “Do It Again,” has become a permanent ear-worm for me.  I don’t know how many times I find myself singing “Back where we started/here we go ‘round again” even when I haven’t heard the song in months or even years.  It is just catchy.  Sheila has a similar reaction to “Come Dancing,” another classic.

More than anything, listening to this album makes me feel like I should get some studio albums, but I’m not sure where to go first.  The songs on this compilation are all from seven albums.  Most represented are 1983’s State of Confusion (four tracks) and 1980’s “One For the Road” (three tracks) but in terms of my favourites, they are pretty evenly scattered through the final five albums.  At least I know not to delve backward without a measure of caution.

The Kinks are a band that seems to be able to bang out a classic rock song with the ease most of us would buy a coffee.  This album is a nice representation of that ability, and so despite it being a dreaded ‘best of’ I’m glad it is in our collection.

Best tracks:   Destroyer, (Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman, Come Dancing, Do It Again, Lola, Low Budget, Heart of Gold, Living on a Thin Line, Father Christmas

CD Odyssey Disc 559: The Rolling Stones

I went to a concert on Sunday night and was reminded again how important a good sound man is.  My friend Josh and I went to see “Deep Dark Woods” a band I’ve really taken to this year (I even bang away at a couple of their songs on the guitar).  I had high hopes.

Sadly, the sound quality at the Upstairs Lounge (nee Harpo’s) was so bad it was like listening to Charlie Brown’s teacher give a concert.  I’ve seen a lot of great shows at that location, so I know the room can handle it, and it was deeply disappointing to see it fail so badly.

I still love Deep Dark Woods, but it is a lesson that you can have the greatest songs and the tightest band in history, but it doesn’t mean a thing if the production is so bad no one can hear them.

Disc 559 is…. Exile on Main Street

Artist: Rolling Stones

Year of Release: 1972

What’s up with the Cover?  Beats me.  My best guess without looking it up is these are a bunch of photos from early circus acts, mostly from the freakshow.  I know I don’t like it, though.  It is too busy and I expect hard to see even if you had it on the original vinyl.  Yet another disappointing Rolling Stones cover.

How I Came To Know It:  A few years ago I overcame my long-seated disinterest in the Rolling Stones and realized that I liked a lot of their stuff from the late sixties and early seventies.  “Exile on Main Street” fit that time frame and came highly recommended, so I took a chance on it.

How It Stacks Up:  I have six of the Rolling Stones’ studio albums.  Of the six, I would put it third, bumping “Beggar’s Banquet” (reviewed back at Disc 381) out of that spot.  Depending on what kind of music I’m in the mood for, I might even bump it above “Some Girls” for second spot.

Rating:  4 stars

The Rolling Stones have tried a bit of everything in their career.  They’ve delved into country, disco and on “Their Satanic Majesties Request” they went completely psychedelic.  “Exile on Main St.” is the band getting back to their blues-rock roots in glorious, double album fashion.

As a young band, the Stones were hugely influential in popularizing American blues music in the United Kingdom, and “Exile on Main St.” returns to that material with conviction.  Ever the master rhythm guitarist, Keith Richards lays down gorgeous groove after gorgeous groove, and Mick lets his dirty voice do what it does best, and get filthy all over your ears.  The band beautifully works in horn sections, piano and groovy harmonies that show these guys were likely as inspired by James Brown as they were by Robert Johnson.

A lot of the songs sound like blues standards, but are actually Rolling Stones originals, particularly “Casino Boogie,” and “Ventilator Blues” which sound like they are right off an old blues ’78.  Admittedly, these aren’t my favourites, and my favourite song on the album in the traditional blues style is an actual blues original; Robert Johnson’s “Stop Breaking Down.”

I have four versions of “Stop Breaking Down” and the Rolling Stones do it best.  Considering the other three are by Lucinda Williams, The White Stripes and the original, I think that is an impressive feat.  The way the band makes the rhythm on the song sound so twisted and sloppy and yet keeps everything so tight in the mix is like watching an experienced drunk walking home.  He may sway back and forth across the street – even lurch in places – but he never falls over, and every shuffle of his feet is like a poem being written on the pavement in perfect time.

There are too many songs on “Exile on Main St.” which is a common malaise with double albums.  I could probably cut it back to 14 tracks from its original 18, and maybe even down to 12.  Having said that, the classics stand out and hold the album up.  “Tumbling Dice” is one of the greatest Rolling Stones songs ever written, as it shakes and sways its way through whatever the hell Jagger is singing about.  I think he’s mad at women in the song.  Or desperately lusting after them.  Or both:

“'Cause all you women is low down gamblers,

Cheatin' like I don't know how,

But baby, baby, there's fever in the funk house now.

This low down bitchin' got my poor feet a itchin',

Don't you know you know the deuce is still wild.”

Yeah – likely both.

As “Tumbling Dice” demonstrates, there is an edge to “Exile on Main St.” even sharper than usual for a Stones album.  It was like the band hung it all out there in the studio, and weren’t afraid to get a little shit on their shoes, musically speaking, if it helped ground their sound in the blues.  It works.

Production-wise, the band always seems to know when to default to a guitar riff and a Jagger growl like on “Rocks Off” and when to have a bit of high harmony and piano, like on “Loving Cup.”  “Exile…” is an album that understands itself well and like anything that understands itself, the decisions it makes become effortless and eerily accurate.

There is a reason albums are considered classic, and “Exile on Main St.” certainly qualifies.  It probably has three sides worth of good music and four sides to fill, but that’s not too terrible a crime.

My particular version of the album is a special release, with a second album of bonus material.  This consists of ten other tracks from the same period (and only two alternate takes of songs on the original record).  As bonus material goes, it is pretty interesting stuff – bringing something new to the experience and also being good songs in their own right, but since the original album is a bit large to begin with, it made grokking everything in its fullness a bit more of a challenge.

Still, it was a challenge I enjoyed, and if I took a full week to get through this record and all the bonus material properly, it was an enjoyable week.  This is one disc I wouldn’t judge by its cover.

Best tracks:   Rocks Off, Tumbling Dice, Sweet Black Angel, Loving Cup, Happy, All Down the Line, Stop Breaking Down, Shine a Light

CD Odyssey Disc 558: Supertramp

Another crazy day with too much to do and too little time.  If you’re also feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of life’s demands, here’s a review to let you know that forty years ago people felt exactly the same way.

Disc 558 is…. Crime of the Century

Artist: Supertramp

Year of Release: 1974

What’s up with the Cover?  What happens when you commit the crime of the century?  According to this cover you’re not only put in jail, you’re put in an extradimensional prison located in the depths of space!  Who could be capable of a crime so heinous that it would warrant such a punishment?  Read the review and find out.

How I Came To Know It:  I’ve known the hits off this record since I heard them on AM radio as a child.  In terms of actually owning the album, I got this one from my friend Gord when he liquidated his CD collection last year.  Thanks, Gord!

How It Stacks Up:  We have three Supertramp albums.  Of the three, I’d put “Crime of the Century” second, just a step behind “Breakfast in America” but in front of "Even in the Quietest Moments."

Rating:  4 stars

Some albums are perfectly of their time, and “Crime of the Century” is one of those records.  This album speaks strongly to 1974.  The decade of youthful disillusionment was settling in for a long stay, as the optimism of the sixties faded away in the face of stagflation and lost opportunity.

Into this gap stepped Supertramp with their third studio album, putting a voice to a generation that was ready to embrace the absurdity of modern life.  The musical style they chose for “Crime of the Century” was a sort of progressive pop, mixing horns, guitar riffs and the tinkling of piano into a sound that was very innovative for its time.

For the most part I admire the result, although some of the longer songs drag in places, descending into piano solos that shift about too aimlessly for my tastes.  These are still well crafted, even if they’re not entirely to my tastes.  In many ways the band had me thinking of Jethro Tull a few years earlier, except replacing the role of the flute with piano.

It all comes together beautifully with “Bloody Well Right” which was seized on as an anthem at the time and was an early memory for me.  Even though I was very young and the delivery system was AM radio, I can still remember hearing this song as the car drove by the pulp mill that fueled the economy of my home town and knowing something important was going on.  Or maybe I just liked the beat.

Either way, as an adult I recognize “Bloody Well Right” as one of rock’s great songs of rebellion.  Holding to the spirit of 1974, it is an anthem that offers up some unpleasant observations –

“So you think your schooling’s phoney

I guess it’s hard not to agree

You say it all depends on money

And who is in your family tree.”

- But doesn’t offer much in the way of solutions.  Instead it just tells you you’re right to be unhappy about the unfairness of it all, and that you have the right to say so, but beyond that there isn’t much solace for the situation.

The song is thematically bookended by the album’s other big hit, “Dreamer” which feels like an indictment of the hippie generation and its notions of utopia and free love.  Instead we’re reminded that dreamers can’t put their hands in their heads and shape their dreams into reality (oh, no!). They’re stuck in the same world as the rest of us, making do.

Later in the record “Asylum” plays with notions of sanity in the increasing moral uncertainty of the age.  The song has an unhealthy mania to it, even as the singer pleads not to be sent to the asylum, claiming:

“I’m just as sane as anyone.

It’s just a game I play for fun – for fun.”

I love the rising, orchestral nature of this song, as it slowly builds, only to fall back into a simple piano melody in the middle that Elton John would be proud of.

I found some of the songs felt a bit too much like show tunes.  In particular, “Hide In Your Shell” which is overly maudlin, and easy listening and “Rudy” which is frantic and changes pace too often, even for progressive music.

The album’s final song is the title track, and ties a nice little bow on the album with a few choice words, delivered with an oppressive finality:

“Now they’re planning the crime of the century

Well what will it be?

Read all about their schemes and adventuring

It’s well worth the fee

So roll up and see

How they rape the universe

How they’ve gone from bad to worse

Who are these men of lust, greed and glory?

Rip off their masks and let’s see

But that’s not right – oh no, what’s the story?

There’s you and there’s me

That can’t be right!”

Lyrically and musically, it feels like Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” fifteen years early.  Who committed the crime of the century?  We did of course.

“Crime of the Century” is a deeply cynical album, but it is what the age called for, and Supertramp delivered.  When I began listening to it I was certain I’d give it only three stars.  Yet as I finish this review I’m just about through my third listen, and its genius is speaking to me more than its flaws, so I’m upgrading to four stars.

Best tracks:   School, Bloody Well Right, Asylum, Crime of the Century

CD Odyssey Disc 557: Townes Van Zandt

I just finished the week five redraft for my football pool.  I only dropped one player, so hopefully that’s enough.

But this isn’t a football blog it’s a music blog, so let’s get back to it. It has been five days since my last review and I’m hungry to move on, despite the excellence of this next album.

Disc 557 is…. In the Beginning…

Artist: Townes Van Zandt

Year of Release: 1966 – well, released in 2002, but recorded in 1966

What’s up with the Cover?  A picture of Townes Van Zandt at the age of two, shooting a B.B. gun.  "Be careful, kid - you'll shoot your eye out!"

How I Came To Know It:  I’m a big Townes Van Zandt fan and was excited to find another album of his full of ‘lost’ music from his early career.  I bought it assuming that like all his other albums, it would be good.

How It Stacks Up:  I have nine studio albums by Van Zandt, if you count the double album of “High, Low and In Between” and “The Late Great Townes Van Zandt” as two albums, as they were originally intended.  Of those nine, “In the Beginning…” does well despite stiff competition, and I’ll place it sixth.

Rating:  4 stars

You’ll often hear people say, ‘that’s a pretty little song’ with very little appreciation how difficult it is to write one of them.  Well, pretty little songs spill out of Townes Van Zandt like water down a stream, and “In the Beginning…” shows that he was doing it years before he ever got any credit.

The album was recorded in 1966, but it wasn’t released until it was found in the back of a small label’s music files years later.  As a result the world had to wait two years longer than they should have to experience Townes’ songwriting genius, and more than 35 years before they heard these particular songs.

What is great about these songs is that they are every bit the equal of Townes’ later and more famous work, and hold all the same great elements that make him one of the most admired songwriters in North America – at least to those who have been lucky enough to be exposed to him.

The simple melodies are as artfully constructed as later work, and many of the songs remind me strongly of later songs.  “When Your Dream Lovers Die” is very similar in construction to “Sad Cinderella” in terms of chord progression, lyrical style and even subject matter.  While I like “Sad Cinderella” a bit more, they are both great.  Townes has an exceptional ability to string together a long run of imagery in words that unfold gently in time with the music, never feeling hurried until they end on a minor note that leaves you wanting more.

“In the Beginning…” also has some very bluesy elements which Townes would also develop on later records.  Songs like “Black Jack Mama” make you taste the dust and dirt of down n’ out living.  I love the opening line:

“Big blonde mama, lord, Apartment 213

Moves like a cobra snake and treats me a like king

Roll me over easy mama, roll me over slow

Do your best to please me, lord

And I’m bound to take you with me when I go.”

The album’s opening track, “Black Widow Blues” combines these bluesy elements with Van Zandt’s easy and lyrical folk stylings to create a style that is unique and as interesting as anything greats like Johnny Cash or Kris Kristofferson were doing at the same time.  “In the Beginning…” shows that Van Zandt found his musical voice early in his career.  While not quite as artfully forged as masterpiece records like “Our Mother the Mountain” or “High, Low and In Between” all the elements are here.

I also like that Van Zandt’s voice is so strong on this early recording.  I also have much later Van Zandt, both from “Live at McCabe’s” and his last studio album, “No Deeper Blue” where his voice has been ravaged by all the abuse he’s put his body through over the years.  Still rich and evocative, but a bit tattered.  On “In the Beginning…” it is strong and vibrant.  The tortured vision is still there, and the soul is noticeably old even in 1966, but the voice is still holding on strong.

I wished at times the songs were a bit longer or more fleshed out, and at thirty-three minutes of playing time, the album leaves you wanting more.  Then again, if you are going to err on a song’s length, it is better to err on the side of shorter.

Apart from that, there is little to not recommend this album and while it isn’t the place to start your Townes Van Zandt collection, that’s only because of his many other masterpieces edging it out for that honour.  Like the finding of the old recordings themselves, listening to this album just makes me miss his talent all the more knowing he didn’t live to see it released.  From “Colorado Bound”:

“It’s a mighty lonesome feeling, listening to the wind a-howlin’

Watchin’ raindrops fallin’ to the pavement outside your door

It’s a fool I am for waitin’ for the sound of your returnin’

For the sound of gentle breathin’, footsteps ‘cross the floor.”

Thanks for the unexpected footsteps, Townes; you are a welcome ghost breathing one more visitation into my music collection.

Best tracks:   Black Widow Blues, Maryetta’s Song, Gypsy Friday, Waitin’ For the Day, Colorado Bound, Black Crow Blues

CD Odyssey Disc 556: Dire Straits

I’m feeling kind of tired today, but I’m also excited to write this review and finish off another band on the CD Odyssey.

Disc 556 is…. Brothers in Arms

Artist: Dire Straits

Year of Release: 1985

What’s up with the Cover?  This cover answers the question “where do guitars go when they die?”  Guitar heaven, of course.  Either that or this guitar has learned to fly.  Sometimes when I can’t make my guitar make the sounds I want it to I consider seeing if it can fly, but fortunately the feeling quickly passes.

How I Came To Know It:  If you’re my age and you don’t know this album, you probably live in a cave.  I never owned it until Sheila bought it mind you, so I really only knew half the songs until then, but now it has been in our collection for a long time, and is like an old friend.

How It Stacks Up:  We have six of Dire Straits studio albums, plus one live album.  Of the six studio albums, I rank “Brothers in Arms” second, narrowly beating out their self-titled debut by the thinnest of margins.

As this is the last Dire Straits album I currently have for review, tradition dictates a quick recap in order of preference:

1. Making Movies: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 245)
2. Brothers in Arms: 4 stars (reviewed right here)
3. Self-Titled: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 501)
4. Communique:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 375)
5. Love Over Gold:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 79)
6. On Every Street:  2 stars (reviewed at Disc 547)

And in addition to these was their live album, Alchemy, which doesn’t really stack up but garnered 3 stars back at Disc 527.

Rating:  4 stars, but almost 5

Sometimes a song can be so big it can overshadow not only an album, but a band’s entire career.  On their 1985 “Brothers in Arms” album, “Money For Nothing” came close to doing that to Dire Straits.  Fortunately, in the long run the album was able to resist that pressure due to its many other good songs.

When I first heard “Money for Nothing” I wanted to hate it, if for no other reason than the stupid but incomprehensively popular music video it spawned.  The video did nothing for the song, and everything to underscore how bad computer graphics were in 1985.

However, when Sting finally stops asking for his MTV, and one of most classic rock riffs ever written launches, I was converted.  Here is a song about a bunch of ignoramus’ talking while they move appliances around.  The lyrics are ridiculous, and at times offensive (and should remain so, I should note).  But when that riff hits, played by history’s greatest rock guitarist Mark Knopfler, there is no resisting this song’s charm.

And for some, that is where it ends.  Well, that and the occasional appearance of their earlier hit “Sultans of Swing” on FM radio.  While “Brothers in Arms” released five songs as singles only “Money for Nothing” and “Walk of Life” were top ten hits.  Two others barely cracked top forty, and the fifth didn’t even manage that.  This shows once again how useless radio is at determining what great music is about.

Of course the other hit, “Walk of Life” does have that organ riff that puts a spring in your step before Knopfler ever plays a note.  I love this song and the feeling of euphoria it gives me, but we all know how much fun it is, so let’s move on.

The record actually starts with “So Far Away.” This is a song with a laid back vibe, beautiful guitar and a big, echoing sound that sets the mood for the whole album.  This is Dire Straits in their later years; no longer feeling the need to wail away with speed, but happy to fill your groove trough going slow and easy.  Overall “Brothers in Arms” has less noodling than any of their previous albums, but it doesn’t take away from its impact.

If anything, some of the longer instrumental sections are part of the reason this record falls short of perfection.  “Why Worry” and “Ride Across the River” both have long trails on them that could easily be cut in half.  On both their self-titled debut and their live album, “Alchemy”, the solos didn’t bother me as much because they blew me away with sheer brilliance.  On this record they tend to be mood pieces that don’t fully develop into anything, or add much to the songs.

That said, I forgive “Why Worry” simply because the rest of the song is so gorgeous.  Knopfler’s guitar feels like it is just picking random notes out of heaven as the mood hits him, but in fact the melody is intricately constructed.  Where “Walk of Life” gives you a feeling of ebullience and energy, “Why Worry” lets you know that it is OK to just chill out and relax.

As with their other later records, the band can’t seem to resist eighties monstrosities like excess saxophone and what I’ve previously referred to as “gumshoe blues.”  “Your Latest Trick” is as bad an offender as any.  If I could do one thing for this album, I’d remove this song. 

My favourite song on the album, is the title track, “Brothers in Arms.” Sure the title track painfully rhymes “world” and “worlds” in its penultimate stanza, and yes it has some guitar and organ work that doesn’t go anywhere quickly.  However, in this case the guitar is perfectly placed, and the organ fills in the silence in between as unnoticed and powerfully as gravity.  The whole effect serves to heighten the intensity of the topic; the honour of the individual soldier, juxtaposed against mankind’s inexplicable need to kill one another.

“Brothers in Arms” is a five star song.  Knopfler pulls all the pain and hope of our sorry species out of his guitar strings and turns it into a blanket for the lyrics to fall into. I’ve heard this song a hundred times but every time this final stanza hits me the hairs stand up on the back of my neck:

“Now the sun’s gone to hell

And the moon’s riding high

Let me bid you farewell

Every man has to die.

But it’s written in the starlight

And every line on your palm

We’re fools to make war

On our brothers in arms.”

Here we have a weary soldier, finished with his day of war. Looking up to the night sky he sees not insignificance, but rather a vast universe looking back down with a combination of disappointment and hope. The song then fades away into some transcendent guitar so you can decide for yourself what the new day is going to bring.

This album is unified in sound, yet runs through a range of emotion and subjects.  If it weren’t for a couple of minor bumps in the road it could easily be a five star album.  As it is, I’m going to mark it just short.  Besides, it is always good to have something to hope for.

Best tracks:   So Far Away, Money For Nothing, Walk of Life, Why Worry, The Man’s Too Strong, Brothers in Arms