CD Odyssey Disc 1372: Don Henley

Sometimes you love an album more than it deserves, which is certainly the case for this next review. I’d call this a guilty pleasure, but Sheila always admonishes my use of that term noting, “there are no guilty pleasures, only pleasures.” That’s a nice thought, but if I’m being honest, I’m a lot less likely to roll the windows of a car down if I’m listening to Enya. Sorry, Enya.

Sorry to Don Henley as well, who is about to experience some tough love. He can take solace in his combined eight Grammys and tens of millions in record sales.

Disc 1372 is…. The End of the Innocence

Artist: Don Henley

Year of Release: 1989

What’s up with the Cover? Don casually brandishes a cigarette in an attempt to make an awful late eighties haircut look cool. Don fails.

How I Came To Know It: I heard three songs off this album back when it came out and liked them sufficiently to buy the album…on cassette! I later sold that cassette for beer money during some dark times, but a few years ago I saw a CD copy on sale for cheap and decided to bring it back to my collection.

How It Stacks Up: We have two Don Henley albums; this one and 1984’s “Building the Perfect Beast” (reviewed back at Disc 1035). Of the two, I prefer “End of the Innocence.”

Ratings: 3 stars

The mid- to late-eighties production decisions were unkind to many a seventies rocker. Springsteen survived on the strength of the material with “Tunnel of Love” and Tom Petty limped through it with “Southern Accents” but folks like Eric Clapton turned promising material into dredge on 1989’s “Journeyman”.

“End of the Innocence” also came out in 1989, which may be the nadir of the entire sorry period. So how did Don Henley fare? Better than Clapton, yes, but he fell short of Petty and well short of Springsteen. In a word, results were mixed.

Let’s start with the good stuff. The album starts off with the title track, which is cowritten by Bruce Hornsby and features one of his signature emotive piano hooks. That delightful hook buoys the whole song, and with the song’s world-weary theme it sets the scene for a record that Henley will load with a large dose of cynicism. “The End of the Innocence” (song and album) tell stories about how the world doesn’t always turn out the way you’d hoped it would.

I used to love “New York Minute” as well, but coming back to it years later I was disappointed with how it tried to catch that “In the Wee Small Hours” feel of New York City, only to be dragged down by fuzzy production values. It still features one of my favourite lines in music:

“Lying here in the darkness

I hear the sirens wail

Someone’s going to emergency

Someone’s going to jail.”

In 1989 I was relatively new to living in a city (and all the sirens that form part of that experience’s backdrop) and this line popped into my head whenever I heard one. It still happens from time to time.

And speaking of personal experience, “The Heart of the Matter” is not only the record’s best song (and a soft rock classic), but also came to me around the time I needed it. The song is a heartbreaker in more ways than one. Fueled by co-writer Mike Campbell’s jangly guitar, it tells the tale of trying to recover from a failed relationship. This means forgiving not only your ex, but also yourself. Hearing Henley rasp out how forgiveness was at the heart of it all helped me through some dark times. Do not worry though, gentle reader, it was thirty years ago. I’m better now.

Also solid are the more hopeful, “The Last Worthless Evening” and the slightly weird (but still wonderful) “Little Tin God” both of which find some measure of silver lining amid a lot of dark themes populating the record.

However, even the good songs must bear the weight of bad production. When Henley sings “you don’t have to get down on your knees/For a little tin god” he should have also applied this advice to eighties production. This whole record feels like it was recorded in an oil drum. The actual drums are mechanical and devoid of emotion. And I know he didn’t play drums on every track but seriously, Don, you’re a fucking drummer. Do better.

Also, as was the style at the time, random saxophone solos abuse many of the tracks. On “How Bad Do You Want It?” Henley should have applied the question to the saxophone part. To which I would have replied, “To end? I want that very badly.”

The worst thing is that on some of the songs - “Shangri-La” comes to mind – the ridiculous percussion is the only way you can hear this song. It is written for such silliness. It is unredeemable. As for “Gimme What You Got” it is a pale imitation of his first solo hit, “Dirty Laundry.” I know one’s about sensationalism in news and one’s about corporate greed, but the deeper issue is that one song (“Dirty Laundry”) is good, and the other one is not.

Despite these misses, however, this album holds a special place in my heart. Yeah, I sold it for beer once, but in my defence I wouldn’t want it on cassette now anyway. Besides, I bought it again, didn’t I? Also, the good songs are very good, bad production and all. Best of all, when I’m not beholden to Odyssey Rule #3, it is way easier to skip songs on both CD and MP3. All that fast forwarding and rewinding back in 1989 really lessened the listening experience.

Best tracks: End of the Innocence, The Last Worthless Evening, Little Tin God, The Heart of the Matter

CD Odyssey Disc 1371: The Coup

It’s been five days since my last review. This is mostly because this next album was both new to me (necessitating multiple listens) and long (meaning those listens each took a while). Ah, well – it’s the journey, not the destination that makes Odysseus’ journey so interesting.

Although that whole “slaughter the suitors” thing at the end of the Odyssey is pretty dope…but I digress. Back to the music.

Disc 1371 is…. Steal this Double Album

Artist: The Coup

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover? Boots Riley and Pam the Funkstress get locked up in Barcode Prison, presumably for…stealing this album?

How I Came To Know It: Just digging through the Coup’s discography after I heard about them in some article. I certainly did not come to know it by stealing the album, despite the Coup’s encouragement. I bought it from my local record store with cash money. Hopefully as dedicated revolutionaries, the Coup will appreciate me thinking for myself on this one.

How It Stacks Up: I have four Coup albums so far (still searching for two more). Of those four, “Steal this Double Album” comes in at #4. Hey, something had to be last.

Ratings: 3 stars

No more than 14 songs. It is a simple guideline that ensures you keep only the best tracks for your album and leave the other ones on the cutting room floor. Bands violate this guideline at their peril. In this case the peril is real, as is the bloated nature of the record. Fortunately, while it would have been better with less content "Steal the Double Album" still delivers lots of hard hitting, funky hip hop.

The album is a mix of almost free form narrative flow, funky grooves and humour, all of it infused with a heavy dose of social commentary.

While the Coup is often political, on “Steal this Double Album” rolls a lot of their social commentary into intensely personal explorations of poverty. When they get dark, they get really dark. “Underdogs” tells the story of a mom eating spoonfuls of peanut butter and drinking water to stave off hunger so she can feed their children. But they also find the adventure in it all, such as reminiscing of a youth spent trying to get into concerts for free on “Sneakin’ In”.

Somewhere in between is “Repo Man Sings For You,” a song that starts with a “is that that pizza man?” skit, but quickly converts into the murky worldview of the morally ambiguous title character, seemingly taking delight in his work. “Repo Man Sings for You” is one of about a half-dozen songs the record could live without. Listening to it, I just wanted to hear the far funkier, funnier and more thoughtful “Repo Man” from their previous record, “Genocide & Juice.”

On the funky side, “20,000 Gun Salute” and “Busterismology” both bust out seventies grooves and mix them with furious rhymes and great chorus catch phrases, including my personal favourite:

“When we start the revolution

All they’ll prob’ly do is snitch.”

These songs have a natural swagger, combined with some furious and creative rhyming that makes them better and better on repeat listens. You can agree with the message or you can oppose it, but you'll probably bob your head to the beat all the same.

As you might expect from advocates of revolution, the Coup don’t terribly care that they might offend you. “Piss On Your Grave” is a metaphor but they also mean it literally. The song features the Coup picking through a mix of traditional bad guys up as well as lauded political figures and gives them all the same violent payback, before er…reminding you of the song’s title. The tune has an exceptional horn section that gives the whole thing a fun groove but make no mistake; the Coup is only kidding around on the surface.

The record has some exceptional rap gymnastics from frontman Boots Riley, although there are also times where it doesn’t hit as hard as I’d like and instead favouring a jazzier delivery. I like the album best when they lay in the horns and the funk as the backdrop to their revolutionary zeal.

Fortunately, despite the excess, there are plenty of grooves to go around, and while some are better than others, none of the tracks are truly bad. I just wanted the whole thing to be a bit tighter.

Best tracks: The Shipment, 20,000 Gun Salute, Busterismology, Cars & Shoes, Piss on Your Grave, What the Po-Pos Hate

CD Odyssey Disc 1370: Sun Kil Moon

I don’t know about you, but I could really be done with this whole pandemic thing. While you wait it out, here’s a music review. That is why I expect you’re here, after all. If you’re here for something else then for God’s sakes, don’t keep scrolling down. You’re only in for ever-increasing disappointment.

Disc 1370 is…. Ghosts of the Great Highway

Artist: Sun Kil Moon

Year of Release: 2003

What’s up with the Cover? Some angry looking kid in a soiled shirt that I can almost guarantee did not play on the album.

How I Came To Know It: A few years ago I read a Paste Magazine article called “the Top 100 indie folk albums of all time”. This article sent me down many different rabbit holes, as I explored each record and (if suitably inspired) then explored that band’s full catalogue. I discovered Jens Lekman there, as well as Johnny Flynn, the Civil Wars and a whole host of others. Among those others was this album by Sun Kil Moon.

In a stroke of synchronicity, Paste Magazine just updated the article this week, adding in new albums (and presumably knocking a few off the list at the same time). Here’s a link.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Sun Kil Moon album, so it can’t stack up. Paste Magazine put it at #22 on their top 100 list, but that is plain ridiculous. It ain’t that good.

Ratings: 3 stars

“Ghosts of the Great Highway” answer the question, “what would folk music sound like if it were crossed with grunge?

The atmospheric and densely layered album demonstrates the wall-of-sound quality of grunge, although the sound is less screeching guitar and instead a latticework of guitar picking and lush strum patterns. Like grunge, you can submerge in the saturation of all the overlap, or you can tune into the melody weaving its way in and out of the background.

Kozelek’s high pining head voice floats over this soup, so pale and wan that he often sounds like he’s going to blow away in the wind. It is sonically effective, although I was often wishing I could understand his lyrics a bit better or, failing that, if he would just lighten up a bit.

The songs take their time and tend to blend into one another, and it is easy to hear the whole record as just one single track. The individual songs are long enough, with many running north of six minutes, including the fourteen minute excess of “Duk Koo Kim.” Is “Duk Koo Kim” a good song for all that? Sure, it’s solid enough. Does it need to be that long to achieve that level of OK? It decidedly does not. Yet somehow despite being over 58 minutes long, the record never feels like it drags, so it must be doing something right.

Part of that is Kozelek’s skill as a producer. He has a lot of layers here, but he’s put everything together in a way that lets you float up and down through the experience. It is sonically interesting stuff, which I expect is one reason it has been such a critical darling.

Subject wise, I should like this record more. Three song titles feature references to professional boxers from around the world: Salvador Sanchez, the aforementioned Duk Koo Kim and even a Pancho Villa. No, not the Mexican Revolutionary General, the Filipino flyweight champion. They both died in the 1920s, though - the general from political assassination in 1923, and the boxer from the even less common “complications from a tooth extraction” two years later. But I digress…

Do any of these songs have anything to do with boxing? They certainly do, and the lyrics are evocative and fascinating, although I found my mind too often drifted into the dreamy soup of the tune. Those layers of sound evolve slowly and organically, so it is easy to lose yourself. If this is how you like your music, then you’ll like this record. Because I tend to like things a little sparser, I enjoyed it slightly less.

The best song is the opening track, “Glenn Tipton” a song that immortalizes both of Judas Priest’s guitar players in one song, and also…boxing:

“Cassius Clay was hated
More than Sonny Liston
Some like K.K. Downing
More than Glenn Tipton
Some like Jim Nabors
Some Bobby Vinton
I like 'em all”

This brings the total number of boxers referenced on the record to at least five (there may be more – as noted above I faded out a couple times), “Glenn Tipton” is not about boxing, however. It is a beautiful meandering tale that wanders through corridors of the mind that take the narrator back to memories of his father, an old lady he knew who ran a doughnut shop, and eventually this little nugget:

“I buried my first victim
When I was nineteen
Went through her bedroom
And the pockets of her jeans
And found her letters
That said so many things
That really hurt me bad”

It is jarring, but it isn’t. The song wanders to this place so naturally it just feels like the next memory this character would share, and then he does.

Ultimately, I should have liked this record more than I did. It is both a collection of art pieces and a single art piece as well, with a sound that blossoms a bit more in your mind on each listen. However, its soft edges and diffuse feel could never fully penetrate my heart like they should have. For that reason alone I am holding it to a miserly three stars, when it probably deserves more.

Best tracks: Glenn Tipton, Carry Me Ohio, Salvador Sanchez, Lily and Parrots

CD Odyssey Disc 1369: Honey Harper

Over the weekend I watched a crazy art film called “Climax,” which is about a troupe of dancers who get unknowingly dosed with LSD-laced Sangria at a party. It was a cool movie, if you don’t mind your cinema a little experimental from time to time.

This next album seems the natural review to follow up that experience.

Disc 1369 is…. Starmaker

Artist: Honey Harper

Year of Release: 2020

What’s up with the Cover? It’s another Giant Head cover! These have really made a comeback in recent years.

How I Came To Know It: The boring way. I read a review, check out the music, and liked what I heard. If it sounds like I find music this way a lot, it’s because it is a very effective way to discover music. But by all means, go ahead and continue to listen to the radio so that every tenth song has you fumbling for a pen in the glove box to write it down as you swerve through traffic.

Or I guess you could just Shazam it. Whatever.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Honey Harper album, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 3 stars

The opening song on Honey Harper’s debut sounds like it has been fed through synthesizer at the bottom of a swimming pool. “Green Shadows” introduces you to the record by immersing you in dreamy ambience and fuzzy notions that are tantalizing close to understandable words. If you’re sober, it’ll make you wonder if someone’s spiked your Sangria with LSD. If you’re already on LSD, it’ll make you wonder if you’re hearing it correctly, and send you scrambling for the receiver to adjust the equalizer as you wonder “Am I tripping out, or is the song supposed to sound like this?”

Yes, yes it is. Do not attempt to adjust your amp or inspect your speaker wire. Do not look askance at Aunt Isadora’s wine-punch. It is just the unique sound of Honey Harper you are experiencing. There are plenty of names that come to mind for just what it is, and I’ve heard it referred to as glam country, cosmic country and psychedelic country.

Retreating from labels to the equally vague ground of comparisons, Honey Harper reminded me of a more diffuse version of Chris Isaak, with maybe a side of partially tranquilized Dwight Yoakam. Like both of them, he has a high warble, and a musical style that makes you think of seventies crooners, updated to a modern sensibility.

The cosmic qualities come from the dreamy qualities of these songs, which feel like you are lost in time and space, floating without form or direction. Harper’s vocals lilt along like a slow-moving river undulating through the contours of your mind.

His lyrics paint splashes of vibrant colour, but it is more mood enhancer than complex narrative. Think the emotive qualities of Monet’s “Water Lilies”, as opposed to the sharp romanticism of Bierstadt’s “In the Mountains.” I’m usually more of a Bierstadt guy, which made it so surprising how much I enjoyed listening to the hazy wisdom of “Starmaker.” This record is a lot of ambient mood music, but Harper does it so well I mostly forgive him for painting outside the lines.

I say “mostly” because there are moments on the record where he gets a bit too pale and wan for my tastes. He can trend toward an off-handed ennui that is vaguely sad, but lacking the focus needed for you to feel invested in the experience. In those moments his spell is broken, and you can hear the basic seventies melodies he’s dressed up in new clothes.

“Suzuki Dreams” is a particularly bad offender here. It is overdressed with a flourish of strings and then falls into a maudlin tune that had me thinking (unfavourably) of that moment in a Disney movie where the main character is wandering through a rose garden pining that they’ll never find love.

Also irksome was the tune to “Tired Tower” which sounded way too similar to Gram Parson’s “In My Hour of Darkness,” only not nearly as good, and with one too many instruments competing for space.

However, by and large the album hits more than it misses, bolstered by late-record standouts “Tomorrow Never Comes” and “Strawberry Lite.” If Harper loses the plot for 2-3 songs in the middle there (and he does) these offering redeem him and remind you of how much hippy-dippy fun you were having when it all started. “Strawberry Lite” in particular is a curiously enjoyable blend of honky-tonk steel guitar with weird synthesizer flutters that would be at home on a Pink Floyd record.

In a way it is unsurprising that record this dreamy would lose its own plot part-way through and then find its way back to the path in such an absent-minded but inevitable way. This record isn’t perfect, but it knows how to navigate its own alien landscape. Also, it is unlike most other country music you are going to hear in this or any other year. In the end, despite the occasionally disorienting moment and lack of direction, I enjoyed the trip; no suspect Sangria required.

Best tracks: In Light of Us, The Day It Rained Forever, Tomorrow Never Comes, Strawberry Lite

CD Odyssey Disc 1368: Patti Smith

I’ve been crowing all week about how, for the first time ever, I purchased music by downloading it (legally, of course – support artists!). It took an album I really wanted badly that wasn’t available on CD to finally make this happen. That album was the Jens Lekman/Annika Norlin collaboration, “Correspondence.”

Lest you think I have now abandoned physical media, you should know that my first act after downloading the album was to burn it to CD, create a jewel case for it, and put it on my CD shelf where it belongs.

Disc 1368 is…. Easter

Artist: Patti Smith

Year of Release: 1978

What’s up with the Cover? Patti deep in thought, or maybe deep in dance. Whichever it is, you can be sure she’s doing it the way she feels like doing it.

How I Came To Know It: Sheila bought me two Patti Smith albums for my birthday a few years ago (the other one was “Horses” reviewed back at Disc 915).

How It Stacks Up: I now have five Patti Smith albums. “Easter” is #1.

Ratings: 5 stars

Who among us lives a fully authentic life? No filter, no artifice, just living your truth 24/7? It isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes inner conviction, bravery, and unflinching vision. On “Easter” Patti Smith demonstrated all these things, and in the process gave us one of rock and roll’s all-time greatest records.

“Easter” is raw and passionate. A record swirling with yearning, angst, anger, and rebellion. Smith feels things in a way that would double most of us over and leave us lying fetal. However, she has an uncanny ability to focus and forge those feelings into art. The melodies are beautiful and elegant, even as they strain against their own structure. These songs are captive animals, where you’re never quite sure if someone left the lock off the cage.

Smith is a gifted poet who is equally adept at employing structure and free form. “Babelogue” is just ninety seconds of Smith spouting a florid stream of consciousness, as rabid fans cheer and clap. I know the rule for spoken word is that you’re supposed to snap your fingers rather than clap, but that would not be sufficiently rock and roll in this moment. Besides, Smith just gains energy from the din, as she masterfully spits her flow over it.

When she sings, Smith has a low, rich tone that seems to come from a primal place deep within her gut or the back of her throat. Her vocals are like a punch, sometimes hitting you in the stomach, and sometimes herself.  

“Easter” is rock and roll in its purest form, unadulterated and unapologetic. Forty years after it was released it still feels ahead of its time. It is unafraid to say anything or go anywhere. Be warned: it may make you feel uncomfortable and it may even deeply offend. How it goes for you is between you and Patti, but consider this your trigger warning.

It is also a record that inspires. “’Til Victory” and “Ghost Dance” feel like mystical anthems that lift and transcend the human condition. The album’s biggest hit (co-written with Bruce Springsteen), “Because the Night,” is young romance, flush with longing and wild abandon.

The record has the rebellious spirit of punk rock, combined with the churning energy of hard rock. Some of the songs are dirges, some are anthems and others are fist-pumping anthems. Whatever their form, each is all held together with Smith’s unflinching artistic vision. This is the rock album version of modern dance, free to move in any direction, but where each movement is deliberate and in service to the vision.

Often when music gets this experimental it loses the plot, and becomes more about its own cleverness, and less about the music. This never happens on “Easter” where the songs are not only inventive, but also a joy to listen to.

Walking home today I began vigorously air guitaring at least three times. The music just moved through me, and I had to let it out. I wanted to lean my head back and pinwheel about as I looked up at the sky (somehow, I resisted). The music just felt too big for just a regular walk through the neighbourhood. It felt majestic and wild, and invigorating like the edge of a high cliff, or a fast-flowing river; savage and beautiful.

So, yes, I recommend this record, but approach with caution. Be prepared to be swept up, and to get a bloody nose, because “Easter” has aged well, but it hasn’t aged gracefully. It is as dangerous and wild as it was back in 1978.

Best tracks: All tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1367: Dori Freeman

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey! Let’s get to the music, shall we?

Disc 1367 is…. Every Single Star

Artist: Dori Freeman

Year of Release: 2019

What’s up with the Cover? This is a painting by Caitlin Mattisson, and it is absolutely beautiful. I’m not sure it could be any better, in fact. No, wait, there is one way. How about a portrait of a cat instead? Cats are better, Dori.

How I Came To Know It: Thumbing through the “miscellaneous F” section at the record store. I was already a fan of Dori Freeman from her previous two albums, but I had no idea she had put out a new one. And there it was! Not often an artist I like this much sneaks out a release without me knowing, but it made for a fun discovery. I bought it unheard based on how much I liked her previous work.

How It Stacks Up: I have three Dori Freeman albums, which is every one except some very early record from 2011 called “Porchlight.” I should look into finding that, although I suspect it will be a tough find. Of the three I have, “Every Single Star” comes in third. It’s good, but the field is just too strong.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

Nothing matches a great tone. You can hit every single note through five octaves, but it is tone that touches the heartstrings. Dori Freeman has tone to spare; a sweet, sparse and straight-from-the heart directness that makes her a natural storyteller.

All of those qualities remain front and centre on her latest release, “Every Single Star.” And long-time producer Teddy Thompson has once again do exactly what you should do when you meet someone with such a gift; get the hell out of the way and let her shine. The production is as bare as a newly swept wooden cabin floor. This is also where you can imagine Freeman is singing. She has the frank openness of a small-towner, and you just know that whether she’s singing as herself or in character, she brings truth to every line.

On “Every Single Star” you can tell Dori Freeman has found contentment. To be sure, she still has songs about jilted love and worthless men, and she still does them well. But she balances these with songs about domestic bliss, two-stepping with your lover and being a mom.

With this balance, the ‘bad boy’ songs are less about heartbreak and more about Freeman telling us she is so over that kind of life. The best of these “get stuffed” songs is the seventies crooner, “All I Ever Wanted” where she evokes the slow romantic power of Linda Ronstadt in her prime. This is what Freeman does best, singing songs that have a timeless quality that have you checking the liner notes to see if they are from 1974, only to find she wrote them herself only last year. This one features an exasperated chorus of a reasonable woman who still can’t get her man to meet some basic expectations that is perfect in its simplicity:

“Would you listen to me when I’m talking to you?

No, I’m not that hard to satisfy

All I ever wanted was a decent man

To give a damn and try.”

The album also has a lot of “I love my child” songs, which isn’t my usual bag, but on tracks like “Like I Do” it inspires her to some of her best songwriting. The chorus is a bit saccharine, but you forgive it because Freeman’s heartfelt love is so unassuming and real. On “I’ll Be Coming Home” it works less well, but maybe the idea of rushing home to see your kid is such a foreign concept to my “cats not kids” lifestyle.

“That’s How I Feel” is the strongest track on the record, with powerful imagery that captures the feeling of being parted from a loved one:

“One can in the back of the fridge

One doe sitting high on a ridge

One man with his foot off the bridge

That’s how I feel when I’m without you.”

I love the way this verse ramps up quickly from the slight amusement of the abandoned beer can, to the exposed deer on a hill, and eventually the despair of a man contemplating ending it all. Powerful stuff, and Freeman delivers it plainly, letting the power of her truth and tone imbue it with all the loneliness and vulnerability it implies.

If anything, the main thing holding back “Every Single Star” is the sheer brilliance of the two records that preceded it. Both of those have songs that make you feel like you’re falling through an ocean of a thousand sighs. The majesty and enormity of the tune and vocals together simply overwhelm you. “Every Single Star” is a solid record, and while “That’s How I Feel” comes close, overall the album lacks these anchor “wow” moments.

For all that, the record is still powerful, and clocking in at a very minimal 32 minutes, it had me eagerly going back to the start multiple times to start the journey over again.

Best tracks: That’s How I Feel, All I Ever Wanted, Like I Do, Go On

CD Odyssey Disc 1366: Gary Clark Jr

When I saw this next album is now five years old it really made me wonder where the time goes. Five years flew by in the blink of an eye.

Disc 1366 is…. The Story of Sonny Boy Slim

Artist: Gary Clark Jr.

Year of Release: 2015

What’s up with the Cover? A kid gets on a bus, or at least contemplates getting on a bus. I guess we shouldn’t prejudge his decision.

Whenever I look at this cover my eyes get tricked into thinking the kid’s backpack is connected to the powerlines in the background. Of course it is just a trick of the eye. Also, that would be incredibly dangerous. That backpack is not rated for carrying 345,000 volts.

How I Came To Know It: My friend Randall put me on to this album. Either that or Ethan Hawke. I get those two mixed up all the time.

How It Stacks Up:  I only have this one Gary Clark Jr. album, so it can’t really stack up. I checked out the much-hyped follow-up 2019’s “This Land” but while I thought it was OK, I decided to give it a pass.

Ratings: 3 stars

For the second straight review I’ve encountered a record that is loaded with technical excellence and artistic merit, but that didn’t reach deep into my soul. That said, this record lays down a cool groove, and even a bit of crunch when the occasion demands.

Gary Clark Jr. is one talented dude. He writes all the songs and plays not only guitar, but on many tracks also plays bass, drums, and keyboard. To do this he must either run very quickly from instrument to instrument or relies on post production. I suspect the latter, but I hope I’m wrong.

Anyway, his vocals aren’t going to blow you away, but he has a nice tone and can tack between a rock growl and a smooth R&B delivery with ease. This gives him a lot of flexibility on how to approach each song, and he takes good advantage of it. On guitar he has a propensity to noodle a bit, but he plays with a rich tone and a natural feel that allows you to forgive him the occasional excess.

When Clark sticks the landing, he delivers some quality music. The album has both crunchy rock tracks like “The Healing” and at the other end gospel-inspired songs like “Church”. “Church” was the album’s single as I recall, and well chosen. The stripped-down raw strumming on guitar plays the part of both drum and hand clap simultaneously. This song is a plea for help in dark times, and while calling on the Almighty like this has been done similarly in many songs before, Clark’s version is a worthy entry in that canon.

Not content with two styles of music, Clark delivers some baby-making R&B-infused action with “Our Love” and some groovy social commentary on “Hold On.” Again, he breaks no new ground with his approach, but the songs have good bones, solid production choices and they are played with a high degree of skill. I particularly liked the mix of the funky horn riff on “Hold On” crossed with the gritty rock guitar solo. Nice juxtaposition, Gary!

Unfortunately, there are moments where that excess I mentioned earlier goes beyond occasional. “Wings” is a rambling bit of mood music that isn’t sure what mood it wants to strike. The record ends on a sour note, with the noodle-infested eight-minute long “Down to Ride,” which four minutes in had me wishing I could just get out and walk. These few off moments make for a record that is about 10 minutes too long by the time all is said and done.

Lyrically, there isn’t much to write home about either, and certainly nothing so profound to quote external to the music. However, Clark does a good job of infusing some simple straightforward messages with the right music to enhance the mood. It makes for a record that is good to idly sink into, rather than one for parsing out revelatory meaning. Sometimes Clark is feeling sad, sometimes he’s ready to rock, and sometimes he’s randy. It’s not complicated beyond that.

Overall, this is a solid record thought, and very much shelf-worthy, even if I don’t put it on as often as I should.

Best tracks: The Healing, Our Love, Church, Hold On, Can’t Sleep

CD Odyssey Disc 1365: Grace Potter

Would you believe that this next artist is the granddaughter of Colonel Sherman Potter and Beatrix Potter?

I sure hope not. Because it is totally not true, and the reason is obvious: Beatrix Potter is old enough to be Col. Potter’s mother! Also, Col. Potter is a fictional character, and thus incapable of siring children outside of the imaginary kind.

But I digress…here’s a music review.

Disc 1365 is…. Daylight

Artist: Grace Potter

Year of Release: 2019

What’s up with the Cover? Behold the cyclopean majesty of Grace Potter’s Giant Head. Her voice is even bigger.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review of this album last year. It was enough to go check her out, and I liked what I heard.

How It Stacks Up:  I liked what I heard so much I went out looking for two of her other albums as well. I found one of them (“The Lion, the Beast and the Beat”) and am still looking for another. Of the two I have so far, I rank “Daylight” #1.

Ratings: 3 stars

I didn’t learn anything special about my inmost soul listening to “Daylight.” It didn’t break any new ground in terms of songwriting or production either. In the end none of that mattered very much, however, because it does what it does very well.

This is straightforward, mainstream music, straddling the safest confluences of pop, rock and R&B. What makes it worth your time is the high level of excellence it accomplishes in the execution of these well-worn paths.

It helps that Grace Potter has a voice that has unearthly power and tone. She can sing any style of music, and on “Daylight” she proves it, ranging through most of what popular music has to offer. She can croon with sweetness in her head voice or belt out a rock growl from down in the chest with equal effect. Listening to her slide from style to style as the individual song demands is worth experiencing just for the technical joy of it all.

Eric Valentine’s production is nice and pure, and gives room for those vocals to soar. And while this is a solo album, Potter has surrounded herself with an exceptional set of musicians, including Heartbreaker Benmont Tench on piano, and pop duo Lucius providing additional layers on backing vocals.

“Back to Me” is the perfect confluence of the album’s best elements, featuring a mid-seventies R&B groove. Potter delivers a raspy rock growl, which is offset by in-the-groove backing vocals from Lucius. Throw in a horn section, and some proto-disco funk and you’ve got a song with a little bit of everything that somehow manages to all fit together.

Another standout is “Release.” Here Potter trades in all that wild funk production for a stripped down, emotionally raw song. Potter still belts it out with authority, but this time her vocal is filled with pain and loss. Pianist Michael Busbee is featured on this track, and his somber, majestic playing adds even greater gravitas to the tune. When I was looking him up my heart caught in my throat when I saw he died of brain cancer in October 2019, only a month after this record came out. If this was one of his last recordings, he left a worthy legacy.

Lyrically, the album doesn’t have any revelatory moments, although Potter’s vocals infuse what is there with plenty of emotion. On the best songs, she draws you in and transports the words to a higher plane than they earn on their own. On the lesser tracks, I found myself thinking they should be appearing on an episode of American Idol. You know, those songs that give the singer lots of room to show how great they are but that are generic enough not to offend the middle-America sensibilities of the voters.

While that’s a bit of a criticism (a hypocritical one given that I still watch American Idol), it is a muted one. If anything, I’m picking up on the accessibility of these tunes, and wondering why Grace Potter isn’t knocking out chart-topping hits.

In the end, I wasn’t overwhelmed by this record, but it does go beyond simply technical prowess, managing more than a few moments of genuine transcendence in the process.  

Best tracks: Back To Me, Every Heartbeat, Release, Shout It Out

CD Odyssey Disc 1364: ACDC

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey! This next album is an old favourite.

Disc 1364 is…. Highway to Hell

Artist: AC/DC

Year of Release: 1979

What’s up with the Cover? Malcom glowers, Angus sneers and Bon flashes a grin while he sports a pentagram necklace sure to trouble your mom when she finally notices it. You know deep down you wanted her to.

How I Came To Know It: I have no idea. I’ve known and loved this album since the day it came out. I never owned it on vinyl, so I assume either my brother or friends did. Probably both. It was the first AC/DC album I bought on CD, but it was so long ago I can’t remember when.

How It Stacks Up:  I have nine ACDC albums and this is the best of them all - #1.

Ratings: 5 stars

Nowadays, throwing up the devil horns at a concert is so commonplace you’ll sometimes see it at an indie folk show. It’s weird, and it’s out of place, but you’ll see it. It might even be me doing it. Old habits are hard to break.

When I was a little kid back in 1979 throwing up the horns at all felt quite risky. Like at any moment the devil himself might notice and come calling. While albums like Iron Maiden’s “Number of the Beast” seemed to tempt the very edges of fate, AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” was a safer way to celebrate sin and fast living. A bit more party, and a bit less Satan, if you will. I’d give it even odds this album was the first I ever honoured with that greatest of rock and roll salutes; head bowed, and devil horn-hands raised high.

If so, I couldn’t have done better than “Highway to Hell,” which is one of the greatest hard rock albums ever made. 41 minutes of screaming guitar riffs, thumping drums and Bon Scott – one of hard rock’s finest vocalists – screeching away with rebellious celebration. This is everything AC/DC does, done to perfection. The songs are 4/4 time, driven at every step by Malcolm Young’s incredible guitar. The album sports a song called “Girls Got Rhythm” but it is Malcolm Young that has rhythm, and plenty of it.

In a way, all the songs sound the same, but chiefly that’s because they all sound great. Everything is played with a relaxed precision that sits down in the pocket and stays a while. You’re going to get a bunch of verse-chorus-verse-chorus-solo-chorus repeat, and you are going to fucking like it. Angus Young’s solos are nothing complicated, but they perfectly fit into each song, giving you a little sideways glance at the tune, before you are safely returned to Malcolm’s reliable groove.

Lyrically, this is also AC/DC at their best. And by “at their best” I don’t mean that they are dropping Leonard Cohen-style insights on the universe or the nature of the universe. These are songs about partying, chasing girls and generally acting like a miscreant. Bon Scott is a naturally over-the-top singer, and the more ridiculous his lines get, the more he revels in them. Some of the best are on “Touch Too Much”:

“She had the face of an angel, smiling with sin

The body of Venus, with arms.”

Um…yeah! Also:

“She wanted it hard, wanted it fast

She liked it done medium rare.”

I expect this is supposed to be a sexual metaphor, although I’m not sure for what. I prefer to think that in the throes of passion this goddess of a woman (with arms, no less!) put in a call for room service.

I also love this line from “Shot Down In Flames” which is basically a song about young men on the prowl, behaving badly:

“Singles bar, got my eye on a honey
Hanging out everywhere”

Is she hanging out at all the bars, or just not wearing very much? The answer to this question is ‘yes’.

While I am poking fun here, both “Touch Too Much” and “Shot Down in Flames” are rock and roll classics, with instantly recognizable guitar riffs that can be heard a thousand times and never grow tiresome. Every song on the album is like this, launching with a furious and undeniable energy over and over again.

This blog often reviews very obscure records, but this is not one of them. This album was everywhere from when I was a kid until I graduated high school. It literally never left the house party playlist for the better part of a decade, merely shifting format (vinyl, cassette, CD) with the times as required.

But that’s not all it is good for. “Highway to Hell” is also the perfect companion for a highway cruise, or a drunken daytime walk (ideally while wearing a pair of cut-off jeans). You can even take this to work. I’ve worked many a blue-collar job, and what got put in the ghetto blaster for the day’s soundtrack was important, and potentially contentious. “Highway to Hell” was never questioned. This is green chain music, construction site music, and bottle depot music rolled into one. It belongs anywhere and everywhere you have to wear steel-toed boots.

This is the band’s best record, combining the driving hard thump of later records with Brian Johnson, with the lascivious blues groove of earlier efforts with Bon Scott. It is also the “gateway” album for anyone unlucky enough not to know AC/DC. It is both accessible and brilliant in equal measure.

So if I’ve waxed poetic, I hope you’ll forgive me. It is just that when it comes to “Highway to Hell” we are talking about a beauty as profound as the goddess of love herself. Only imagine she has arms, and at the end of those arms are hands. And those hands are throwing up the devil horns.

Best tracks: all tracks