CD Odyssey Disc 1865: Richard Wagner

This next artist held some reprehensible views. Fortunately he’s been dead for over 125 years, and I bought this album second hand, so I can enjoy his music (mostly) guilt free.

Disc 1865 is…The Best of Wagner

Artist: Richard Wagner

Year of Release: 1993-1997, but featuring music from 1840 - 1874

What’s up with the Cover? In the upper right we also have a caricature drawing of Wagner which makes him far more whimsical than his real-life photos suggest (where he looks more like the curmudgeon I imagine he was).

We are also presented an aerial photo of Neuschwanstein Castle, in Bavaria. A magical place that is now a tourist destination that charges 21 euros to wander about. I would happily pay to wander about there, as it looks quite magical.

Odd fact about Neuschwanstein, if you are a senior, a student or handicapped they give you a discount of…wait for it…one euro. I imagine this leads to interesting moments of outrage from visitors, as patient castle staff explain that that is the full amount of the discount, and you’re welcome.

How I Came To Know It: Everyone has heard of Wagner, and I’ve always loved “Flight of the Valkyries”. His catalogue is immense (and long) and I decided to dip my toe in instead of buying the entire Ring cycle on CD. Because while it sounds great, it’s also a serious time commitment.

Besides, I got a great deal. One Canadian dollar at a local thrift store! Close in value to the massive windfall a college student could realize on a visit to Neuschwanstein Castle.

How It Stacks Up: This is the only Wagner currently in my collection AND it’s a compilation, so it is not stackable on two accounts.

Ratings: Compilations don’t get rated. I will go on about it for a bit, though, if you decide to keep reading.

While I’m not going to get into it, for a guy who so clearly loved fantasy and adventure, a lot of crazy stuff actually happened to Wagner through his life - some of it well-deserved. Fortunately for the world, Wagner seems to have channeled that drama into swelling and enchanting compositions that transport us to a place of breathtaking adventure and excitement.

If you are looking for in-depth explorations of Wagner’s compositional style, or how his concept of Gesamtkunstwerk influences these selections, you should be looking elsewhere. My classical music knowledge is woefully low. I only know that Gesamtkunstwerk is a word because I lifted it from Wikipedia.

Instead of letting my own considerable ignorance get me down, I like to fall into classical music with the same blissful abandon I approach modern popular music and see where it takes me.

In the case of Wagner, I felt like I was listening to something Very Important all the time. These snippets of larger works are impressive in their ability to lift you up and soar your spirits with knights, ghost ships and Valkyries.

Sometimes there is bombast from the opening notes, as is the case with “Die Walkure (“The Valkyrie”) and the famous “Ride of the Valkyries”. This tune is movie magic excitement from a time before modern motion picture action films existed (If they had existed, Wagner would have definitely been scoring them).

“Ride of the Valkyries” is pure adrenaline from the opening notes. If I was ever to be lifted from a field of the slain by a host of flying warrior woman (yes please!) this is definitely the song I want playing while it is happening. Given this is unlikely to happen (the occasions I find myself on a field of the slain is mercifully rare), listening to “Ride of the Valkyries” is the next best thing. And when it’s over, and I’m parched from all that top-tier air conducting I can go grab a glass of water rather than being, you know, dead.

Yes, I digress, but I found it very hard to listen to Wagner and not engage in a little digressing. Dude is fanciful.

Another favourite on this compilation is the overture to “Der Fliegende Hollander (the Flying Dutchman)” a story of love, ghost ships and a bit of Satan. I’ve never seen (or heard) the full opera, but if there is anything near the adventurous spirit present in the overture, count me in.

Even when Wagner is not getting all boisterous and heroic, he brings inspiration. The section lifted from “Tristan and Isolde” (“Liebestod”) is the height of romance. I loved the tragic romance of this story since I first read it in Mallory’s Morte D’Artur and Wagner captures all the right feels in his interpretation.

There were a couple of times I got fidgety – most of the prelude to “Lohengrin” is just ambient mood music, reminding me of the third song you hear at the end of a movie with super long credits. However, even here Wagner throws in some fanciful swells about two thirds of the way through that will leave you certain your heart will burst out of your chest before it settles back down again and fades out.

Wagner is one hell of a composer. Shame about his rotten opinions (that he shared all the time) but the music – great stuff, and even better knowing he didn’t get a single cent of the dollar that I paid for it.

Best tracks: They are all pretty great, but I’ll go with “Tristan und Isolde – Liebestod”, the overture to the Flying Dutchman, and Ride of the Valkyries for reasons noted above.

CD Odyssey Disc 1864: Rose Hotel

I’m a bit worn down after a long week, and music is just the thing to perk me up. But who am I kidding – I was going to listen to music anyway.

Disc 1864 is…A Pawn Surrender

Artist: Rose Hotel

Year of Release: 2024

What’s up with the Cover? A lady in red has a sit in an immense room, presumably temporarily exhausted by her explorations. This picture evokes a Gothic adventure story of some young miss wandering alone through a vast (and possibly haunted) castle.

If it is a 19^th century Gothic story, there is a good chance she’s going to get attacked by a vampire or experimented on by a mad scientist. Those 19^th century writers did murder and mayhem right.

If it is an 18^th century Gothic story it is probably just her kindly uncle’s mansion, and her fearful thoughts of being ravaged or murdered, or set upon by spirits are just fanciful notions dispelled the moment her uncle reveals himself, and says he’s only been following her because some of the rooms have loose roof beams and he was concerned for her safety.

18^th century Gothic novels often disappoint in this way. Except Lewis’, “The Monk”. That one is chock full of rape, murder, and even Lucifer himself dragging people to hell (mostly for the crimes noted). Recommend!

But I digress…

How I Came To Know It: I read a review at Paste Magazine, gave it a listen and, well, here we are.

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

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

Jordan Reynolds (aka Rose Hotel) is an indie pop artist who alters between lilting and thoughtful pop songs with a bit of jump (like) and a jazz soup of atmospheric ambience (do not like). She does more of the former than the latter, making this record overall a solid listen.

Reynolds doesn’t have powerhouse vocals, but she has strong instincts for phrasing and writes songs that lean into the best parts of her range. In her high and airy head voice she sounds a bit like Marissa Nadler, and when she’s down lower and pushing the pop side of her sound more like Samia.

At this point I may have irritated you by describing an obscure artist you may not know with comparisons to two other obscure artists you may not know. Admittedly, a hipster douchebag move if ever there was one. Or perhaps you could take it as a sign you should also be checking out Marissa Nadler and Samia, on account of them both being awesome. You’re welcome!

“A Pawn Surrender” begins with the sexy urgency of “Falling In Love Again and Again”. This song doesn’t grab at you so much as confidently lean in and plant a soft but insistent kiss on the lips. It has a bit of the soupy production I don’t like on some other tunes on the record but it works here and is a good aperitif for all the various approaches Reynolds will be taking the rest of the way.

After that we get the droning and directionless “Fruit Tree”. I admit, on my first listen this concerned me, but it turns out that while it is a misstep, it is a rare one. If I were the Soulless Record Exec helping order the tunes for the record, I think this one is more of a “late in side two” situation.

From there things pick up again quickly, “Drown” and “Not Like That” both recover the energy we started with before we get the record’s best effort, “King and a Pawn”.

Featuring allusions to the album title in the chorus, “King and a Pawn” serves as a powerful anchor in the middle of your listening experience. A song that takes a collapsing relationship and compares it to a played-out chess match, with a chorus suitable for enthusiasts of relationship drama and chess alike:

“All we got left
Is a king and a pawn
We’re caught in a stalemate and baby that’s just what’s wrong
Cornering each other, avoiding every move
Refusing to surrender
Even when it’s the best we could do”

Is it followed by more soupy ambience in the soporific “Pushing Me”? Sadly yes, but again, the not-great is over quickly and replaced with a solid run to the end of the record.

The unevenness of “A Pawn Surrender” held me back from giving it four stars, but overall this is still a good one. It has a thoughtful yearning throughout and demonstrates Jordan Reynolds’ talent for capturing the mysteries of the human heart with grace and subtlety.

Best tracks: Fall In Love Again and Again, Drown, Not Like That, King and a Pawn, On Your Side

CD Odyssey Disc 1863: Rick James

When I rolled my next random album, I landed on a greatest hits record by this next artist. I quickly realized, “I don’t need a greatest hits by this guy”, removed it from the collection (because if I don’t review it, it means it must immediately go) and moved to the next album which was…this one.

Disc 1863 is…Street Songs

Artist: Rick James

Year of Release: 1981

What’s up with the Cover? Rick James looks resplendent in his thigh-high faux leather boots. Rick looks like he is going to proposition passers-by, and I see him sauntering over, lascivious hip-sway impacted in all the right ways by those two-inch heels and whispering his sultry offer.

“Hey there. Like my guitar? Well I know how to use it, and for twenty bucks and I will funk your world.”

I paid that twenty bucks at my local record store and reader, let me tell you, I got funked.

How I Came To Know It: Sheila and I recently watched a documentary on Rick James’ life and it reminded me that he is a lot more than just “Super Freak.” This sent me on an exploration of his discography, and I found five I liked. This is one of them.

How It Stacks Up: I have four Rick James albums. I know I just mentioned liking five, but 1979’s “Fire It Up” is one of the hardest albums to find on CD, and I continue to come up empty.” Of the four I do have, “Street Songs” comes in at a very respectable #2.

Ratings: 3 stars

Rick James is a sexy creep, and on “Street Songs” he embraces that persona in a way warrants a healthy disapproval, mitigated (musically only) by how goddamned groovy these tunes are. This tension between funky good time music and lyrics that often cross the line makes listening to this record…complicated.

I’m not going to delve into James’ biographical background here but holy it is tempting. James practically begs us to get into it by his unapologetic recounting of his own excesses.  

The record begins with “Give It To Me Baby” a song that is all entendre, hold the double. When Rick wants to tell you what he’s getting up to, he’s gonna tell you. Sometimes I wanted to say aloud, “Rick, don’t go there” but Rick was always going to go there, and no one would hear me over the horns anyway.

“Give It To Me Baby” starts off with one of the greatest bass lines in musical history (the record features two of them), before Rick James sets the scene. He’s home, he’s drunk and he’s horny. But let’s have Rick tell us in his own entirely unfiltered words:

“When I came home last night
You wouldn't make love to me
You went fast asleep
You wouldn't even talk to me
You say I'm so crazy
Coming home intoxicated
I said I just wanna love you”

Yes, Rick, you are crazy. Go to sleep. This song is such a creep-fest it should make your skin crawl, but the tune is so good, and those horns so well deployed that you almost forget that this is the narrative of a drunk asshole.

The album’s other famous track, “Super Freak” is the thing we remember Rick James for. Like Warren Zevon with “Werewolves of London”, James’ ghost can take solace that even if most people will only ever know “Super Freak” and nothing else, at least it is a great song. MC Hammer almost wrecked it with an aggressive sample, but nothing can hold back “Super Freak”

"Ghetto Life” (released as a single to only minor fanfare) has an infectious old school Motown sway, updated with Rick’s own particular rhythm. It is also one of the few songs I though might be about something other than sex, starting with James setting the scene of climbing out of the ghetto. But then before you know it, there’s a girl with pigtails and well it goes downhill from there… Rick, must you filthify everything? He must…

Where this record fails is when Rick James tries to get his sensitive groove going. Slow jams like “Make Love to Me” and “Fire and Desire” are sung with every ounce of earnest that James can muster. Despite his best efforts, sitting alongside the freaky stuff they just don’t feel believable. Also, they meander around, mistaking overwrought for romantic. Rick just makes better music when he’s amped up and feeling funky.

Overall, this record has faults, but they’re not fatal, and I declare it a keeper.

Best tracks: Give It To Me Baby, Ghetto Life, Super Freak, Below the Funk (Pass the J)

CD Odyssey Disc 1862: Albert King

Welcome back, dear readers. I’ve had an exciting week of discovering new music, enjoying live shows and getting tickets to future live shows. As Frank Zappa once said, “music is the best!” Since you’re here, I assume you agree.

Disc 1862 is…Born Under a Bad Sign

Artist: Albert King

Year of Release: 1967

What’s up with the Cover? A collection of five ‘bad signs’. From L or R we have poison, a black cat, Friday the 13^th, the ace of spades and snake eyes.

I take issue with the inclusion of poison, which isn’t a bad sign so much as it is a warning that says “don’t drink this!” or, in different circumstances, “have your enemies drink this!”.

Also as a fan of a) cats and b) Dan Marino, I take issue with the inclusion of the cat and the number 13.

Nevertheless this makes for a pretty great record cover, regardless of how you feel about cats, numbers, poisoning of one’s rivals or even Wild Bill Hickok for that matter.

As for that last one, as the kids say – IYKYK.

How I Came To Know It: My friend Chris brought some songs from this record to a music appreciate night we attended as part of a set list featuring Donald “Duck” Dunn on guitar (who also plays on this record). I liked what I heard a lot and…here we are.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Albert King record, so it can’t stack up. It is, however, released by Stax records, so it does ‘Stax’ up. Get it? Get it? Man, I crack myself up.

Ratings: 5 stars

If you listen to as much music as I do (i.e. a lot) you have heard plenty of people wank away on an electric guitar. And there are plenty of great players out there – Buck Dharma, Mark Knopfler, Brian May, etc. At the same time, as years go by it gets harder to impress me. Then along came Albert King. Consider me impressed.

When it comes to the blues, everyone fancies themselves a first-rate axeman, and you can get some unwelcome noodling and enough excessive blue notes to make even an enthusiast blue. It is every bad bar band you ever half-listened to because it happened to be on when you ducked in for a beer, or maybe just to pee.

Not so, Albert King. Every goddamn note King plays is purposeful, expressive and powerful. His guitar sounds like an apex predator, stalking these songs, slaying the chord progression and filling the empty space between attacks with purposeful growls.

And good God man, the tone! Notes boldly arcing through the night and into your body, making your spine twist in directions you didn’t know it could, and that feel so good. This being 1967, the majority of these songs hover between two and three minutes long, the effect being you are consistently left wanting more.

Like Jimi Hendrix, Albert King played a right-handed guitar upside down which is, for lefty players like me, extra cool. I play a left handed guitar built for lefties, but then I am not remotely as cool as Albert King.

As for the songs themselves, inspired stuff all around, and focused on all those usual bluesy topics. The title track being about how sometimes you just start out unlucky – although hard to feel sorry for Albert King in the moment, as that song is revelatory.

Alongside these we have the usual tunes bragging about the singer’s prowess in the bedroom. You can get this straight up (“Crosscut Saw”), a bit on the creepy stalker side (“The Hunter”) and my personal favourite, “Personal Manager” which is…er…service oriented. Best line:

“Yeah I want to be your milkman every mornin'
Your ice cream man when the day is through”

The Blues also often feature “cheat on me and regret it” tunes, and “Born Under a Bad Sign” has one of the greatest ever in “Laundromat Blues”. In this song, our protagonist has noticed that his lady is spending a lot of extended time at the laundromat ostensibly washing “a blouse or two” and likely hooking up with someone somewhere between the wash and spin cycles. Best line of this one:

“Yeah, you better hear my warnin'
I'm gettin' madder everyday
I don't want you to get so clean, baby
You just might wash your life away”

Because what’s an old blues album without a song featuring some threat of jealous domestic violence? I would advise the narrator to employ a marriage counsellor or divorce attorney instead, but I’m pretty sure this is one of those Biggy Smalls style “you don’t hear me, though” moments and he’s gonna do something that lands him the slammer.

Dark themes or romantic, Albert King’s smooth and sexy vocals are ever-present, as is some of the greatest guitar playing ever heard by human ears. If this isn’t the greatest blues record I’ve ever heard, it is certainly in the conversation.

Best tracks: All tracks, but if you only listen to one then the title track is “must hear before you die” level stuff. That said, if you only listen to one track on this record you are, sadly, an idiot.

CD Odyssey Disc 1861: Sleater-Kinney

Welcome to what will be another rather long and involved article. No childhood trauma this time – instead following the album review I shall share some concert reviews from the annual Rifflandia festival. Many artists to grok, one of which we shall profile in this next album review!

Disc 1861 is…Little Rope

Artist: Sleater-Kinney

Year of Release: 2024

What’s up with the Cover? The Gothic horror fan in me loves this cover. It appears the woman on the couch has accepted a date at the house of the woman on the (upper) left, only to find that she is in the lair of…a vampire!

Is it the drawn curtains that gives it away? The red walls and outdated (yet timeless) décor? Maybe these things, but definitely the fact that her host is currently floating up the wall.

Will this end with an amorous encounter? A bloody murder? Most likely both because…vampires!

How I Came To Know It: I’m a Sleater-Kinney fan. This was just me buying their latest record because I like them.

How It Stacks Up: I have six Sleater-Kinney records, divided evenly between their original run and their more recent work. The old and the new are similarly even in their quality, and “Little Rope” comes in at a respectable third.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Little Rope” is proof positive that a band can continue to create compelling music a full quarter century into their run. It features the best of both worlds: the snarl and punk edge of early Sleater-Kinney albums like “Dig Me Out”, and the addition of some subtle nuance to both song structure and delivery that comes with the advantage of age and experience.

In no way does this suggest Sleater-Kinney has softened over time. Yes, the sound has a rounder edge in places, but it is deployed deliberately and purposefully to give the record dynamics and keep your ear interested.

Corin Tucker’s vocals have matured beautifully over the years but have lost none of the hurt in the process. The result is that like the arrangements, there is variety and interest and while there are songs like “Say It Like You Mean It” that stray close to mainstream rock radio, the band never fully leaves the alternative ‘outsider’ space that made them special in the first place.

Sleater-Kinney purists may note that original drummer Janet Weiss is no longer in the band, which is sadly true, but this is no reason on its own to avoid “Little Rope.” In fact, while Weiss is amazing, the drumming (and percussion overall) from Angie Boylan is solid and the band’s overall signature thump survives.

Also, the dual guitar action of Brownstein and Tucker continue to squeeze every ounce of hurt and harm out of their instruments. Brownstein plays with a controlled violence that makes every bar a heavyweight bought between her and the axe. Neither player nor instrument wins, but the struggle between them is rock and roll in its purest form.

Lyrically, these songs are full of raunch and doubt and rage, mixed together to showcase a visceral wisdom. As Sleater-Kinney notes on “Hunt You Down”

“The thing you fear the most
Will hunt you down”

But they make it clear through the music that even the things we can’t bring ourselves to confront will meet us in that tumultuous space where poetry and guitar collide. Therapy and wisdom through amplified sound.

In their Rifflandia appearance, Sleater-Kinney played a host of songs off this album, and I welcomed every one, right alongside long-time crowd-pleasers. Their recent work is celebratory, revelatory, and – for the band’s growth through time – evolutionary. “Little Rope” is a worthy addition to the catalogue of a band that continues to push themselves to make great music.

Best tracks: Hell, Say It Like You Mean It, Hunt You Down, Crusader, Dress Yourself, Untidy Creature

Concert Review: Rifflandia Festival 2025 – Victoria BC

[n.b. – if you want photos of the event and a peek at our weekend adventure, check out Sheila’s fabulous blog entry here].

For those readers from away, every year Victoria has a couple of big multi-day outdoor music festivals. Unsurprisingly, I usually go to them. Rifflandia is one of these, and in addition to Sleater-Kinney (review below) many bands were enjoyed. Others, as is the rule of festivals, were endured.

This year’s festival had only one stage. This was both good and bad. The good news was you didn’t have to pick what band you wanted to see (I am still mad at myself last year for skipping the Cro-Magnons in favour of the Crash Test Dummies. Fail).

The bad news was that the sound folks had less time to get their act together and, at times, it showed. Generally things would pull together but there were moments where I was like “is that guy’s mic even on?” Overall OK, and a bug of music festivals where multiple artists have to share the same stage that shall never be truly solved.

The great news is that this year we went in for a “pod” with six other people (thank you to my friend Linda for inviting us). There are only six total pods and for basically double the price of the festival you get a front row seat, ‘in-pod’ drink and food service, a bunch of actual ‘seats’ (instead of standing for 10 hours) and a semi-private port-a-potty. As a middle aged man with a nervous bladder and a dodgy lower back, these last two items were key features.

I’ve just seen a lot (13) of bands so the recap will perforce be quick:

Friday:

Hollow Coves: These guys are a folk/pop band from Australia. I was excited to see them but ultimately they were a bit too smooth for my tastes. Kind of had a “I just listen to whatever comes on the radio” vibe. I did not pay attention like a good fan should, but they gave me little reason to.

Macy Gray: I was not excited to see Macy, but she ended up putting in a solid performance. She did a cover of Radiohead’s “Creep” which was not only good but had me thinking, “If you are not going to play your popular songs, Thom, someone else will.”

Descendents: Eighties punks that are still killing it. The lead singer looked like Drew Carey but sounded like Henry Rollins. This was awesome, and I’ll be seeking out more of these guys. So good, I bought the shirt.

Shakey Graves: I have one Shakey Graves album, (2014’s “And the War Came”) and generally don’t like his other records. That held up here, as I was unimpressed with his pointless overuse of feedback, noodles so indistinct they barely qualified as noodles, and a general overestimation of how good he thinks he is. I enjoyed “Dearly Departed” and otherwise I was irritated. Shakey Graves paid “tribute” to Ozzy by trying to wreck a cover of “Supernaut” but fortunately that song is so good it is unwreckable.

The Funk Hunters ft. Chali 2na: I know Chali 2na from his work with Jurassic 5, so I was pretty stoked for this show. The Funk Hunters are a dance/electronica duo he’s teamed up with. Chali 2na was incredible – proof that old rappers can still remember their entire chain of rhymes across multiple verses if they want to. The Funk Hunters were fine, but in their extended sections I mostly waited patiently for Chali 2na to return.

Public Enemy: These rap warriors are still bringing it as well. Great energy, Flavor Flav was on fire, and I heard most of what I wanted to hear. Well, portions of it – as the show went along I got that ole hip hop treatment of snippets of songs being played and then a repeat of the hook. As good as they were, and as much as I am learning this is often the risk at a hip hop show, it muted my enthusiasm.

Best of the Day: I’ve got to go with the Descendents.

Saturday:

Wyatt C. Lewis: Wyatt C. Lewis is a singer-songwriter from the Prairies. He has a band but it often feels like just him and his guitar, drawing you in to his personal confessionals. I really dug him and will be seeking out his stuff.

Billianne: Billianne (yes, her actual name) is an indie pop singer from Toronto. I was expecting to like her and while she was overall solid, she did not inspire live. I will not be seeking out her stuff.

Sleater-Kinney: The reason I came on an otherwise light Saturday lineup, and they did not disappoint. Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker still bring it.

Tucker’s vocals still have their sharp and distinct warble, and unlike Shakey Graves, Brownstein knows how to make an electric guitar spark and growl in all the right ways. Brownstein switched guitars halfway through to an aqua number with a giant whammy bar. Yes, dear reader, she whammied.

She also bounced around the stage with a carefree energy that was strongly reminiscent of a young Pete Townsend.

Best of the Day: Sleater-Kinney by a mile.

Sunday:

Jake Vaadeland & the Sturgeon River Boys: If you want old timey music made young again then is this ever the band for you. Jake Vaadeland looks like a young lad, but (to quote fellow Rifflandian William Prince) dude has an old soul. He and the Sturgeon River Boys were a delight and another festival highlight, as they engaged in delightful banter that was clearly rehearsed, but so well delivered I didn’t mind. He also plays a mean guitar and banjo and writes songs that sound as old as Bill Munro but…aren’t.

Dirtwire: A duo of dudes who look like they’re gonna drop some Alan Jackson style country on you, but instead play a mix of electronica, sequencers, and every interesting instrument from the four corners of the globe. I could only name about a third of them, and half of those required the Google. This was intriguing to witness but musically was a bit ‘one-note’ for a band with that many options at their command. The one-note reminded me a lot of nineties one-hit wonder Rednex (remember “Cotton-Eyed Joe”)?

William Prince: The aforementioned old soul himself, William Prince brought his velvety baritone to the stage as evening settled in. Prince was a consummate professional and played and sang with clarity and heart. While some of the songwriting was uneven, Prince was still great throughout, and it if weren’t for Jake Vaadeland he’d have taken first place.

Walk of the Earth: If only they had. I had a soft spot for this band, as the female lead singer Sarah “Sin” Blackwood used to sing for a beloved psychobilly band, “Creepshow”. Read more about her time with Creepshow at Disc 1077.

Her work in Walk Off the Earth on Sunday night? Not so much. The band did a pointless and uninspired set of “reimagined” covers that mostly made for an excuse to show how the band could all play a single song simultaneously on a giant multi-necked stringed instrument. Clever, but more of a variety show trick than a concert.

But the real horror was still to come, when they left the stage to a bunch of kids (maybe theirs?) who looked to be maybe 10-12 years old. I never had kids. This means I’ll never get to give one away, send one to college or be visited by one bringing me flowers in my dotage. I am at peace with this. It is also supposed to mean I never have to suffer a Grade 5 Christmas concert simply because my kid is in it. That was a huge win for me, Walk Off the Earth, and for twenty long minutes you robbed me of it.

Best of the day: Jake Vaadeland & the Sturgeon River Boys

At this point it was a bit cold, and we were a bit tired. Not feeling inspired by the final two headliners, Sheila and I called it a day and headed home. We’d seen thirteen bands in three days, had a lot of great festival moments – some with close friends and some with random strangers. Overall it was a lot of fun, and I look forward to the announcement of next year’s lineup.

CD Odyssey Disc 1860: Meat Loaf

This review is a little longer than most but bear with me and we’ll see it through together.

Disc 1860 is…Bat Out of Hell

Artist: Meat Loaf

Year of Release: 1977

What’s up with the Cover? A very sexy, very flexible barbarian bursts forth from his grave on a motorcycle decorated with what may be the skull of a horse.

You’d think having died and (presumably) gone to hell once already that our rider would wear proper protective clothing while riding, but no. He’s dressed in nothing but a loincloth.

Also notable, the massive and ultracool bat headstone on the biker’s tomb. Big bat energy!

How I Came To Know It: This is a longer tale than usual, but I’ll try to be brief and hopefully we’ll exit to the main review with minimal emotional scarring. It is a tale of terror and redemption, told in two parts.

It began around the time it got released. I don’t remember my exact age, but well under 10. These were hard times. My mom was divorcing my dad who was a drunk, and not the fun kind. He was moved out of the house by this time, and at some point when I wasn’t home he had dropped off a copy of “Bat Out of Hell” on vinyl for me as a gift.

Later that night he called – drunk – and slurring away he butchered some of the lyrics to “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” at me, while my mom sat in the room, horrified, trying to be supportive, letting me know through a mix of whispers and gestures that I was free to talk to dad or hang up, whatever I was comfortable with. After an indeterminate period of fear-inspired paralysis, and some halting efforts to navigate the conversation, I hung up.

So Meat Loaf and I didn’t get off to a great start.

A few years passed, and into my teens this record became ubiquitous at parties and events, and like everyone else of my generation I got to know it pretty well, even to the point of singing along (n.b. this is a record that is very hard to not sing along to). It was a cursed relic in my collection – full of danger and dread but so compelling I couldn’t resist putting it on.

Flash forward many decades. Maybe ten years ago, I was walking home from the pub with Sheila and our good friends Cat & Ross, and on a whim the four of us decided to detour into the very suspect selection of CDs and records in the local London Drugs. Our mission? Buy one record or CD right there. Find something among the wreckage and buy it, no matter what!

I found Meat Loaf sitting there for $9.99 and while everything I just shared was still with me, it felt a little less dangerous with a couple of drinks in me (yes, I recognize the irony). Anyway, I bought it and got it home. Side note: my three companions all welched on our pact. Disappointing…

But back to the music. How do I feel about it now? Well, readers, that’s what you’re here to find out, innit?

How It Stacks Up: I have two Meat Loaf albums, and this is the best one by a goodly margin - #1.

Ratings: 4 stars

Let’s set aside the personal journal and just take a minute to bask in the overblown, ambitious, majestic glory that is “Bat Out of Hell”. This record is all the right kinds of crazy, with every musical idea that writer Jim Steinman could imagine, all dialed up to eleven.

You can’t talk about “Bat Out of Hell” without Steinman, who is the creative genius behind this hyperbolic collection of bombast. Meat Loaf is his muse, but Steinman is the conductor.

These songs feel better suited as part of a live rock opera a la Rocky Horror than a rock and roll record, but Steinman is a manic genius and bends the genre to his will, making songs that raise their quavering devil horns with such pure conviction that they can’t possibly be faking it.

Do you like excessively long rock anthems that are entirely unsuitable for radio play? Well, “Bat Out of Hell” has three of them. You’re welcome.

It all starts with the title track, which has about as many movements as a 19^th century classical symphony. I could describe each of them but doing that would take the rest of my evening and this entire review, and I’m already over. The song captures the reckless energy of driving too fast, then the drawn-out pain of the inevitable crash and death, before ending with the image of a young man’s heart literally bursting out of his body and flying away…like a bat out of hell. What the flying fuck?

This sort of thing shouldn’t work, but fortunately Steinman’s genius has the perfect partner in the bigger than life person and voice of…Meat Loaf. Meat Loaf - one of rock and roll’s great all time voices - vibrating with a tension that pushes higher and higher but never snaps under all the resulting pressure. Instead you just know in your bones that everything he is singing about is REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT.

Everything that comes out of Meat Loaf’s mouth becomes bigger and better, and the record becomes a series of ultracool phrases that after multiple listens you start to eagerly anticipate.

On the album’s second song, “You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night)” he practically trembles with emotion as he sings:

“It was a hot summer night, and the beach was burning
There was fog crawling over the sand
When I listen to your heart, I hear the whole world turning
I see the shooting stars falling through your trembling hands”

Yes! Yes and yes! If you aren’t getting it by reading the stanza, you can be forgiven, but if you’ve ever heard the song even in passing then right now there is a 50/50 chance you are already raising a clawed hand to the sky – Jack Black style – and brandishing your invisible goblet of rock.

Meat Loaf is the consummate front man, with acres of range both through the octaves but also emotionally. He can bring the power, but he can also sing with tenderness and love, as he demonstrates at the end of the record on “For Crying Out Loud” (another nine minute epic).

And in between those two epics we have the record’s biggest commercial moment which is fittingly also nine minutes long. “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is the song that introduced my entire generation to sex in a car years before we even what sex was, or even that the song wasn’t remotely about baseball.

While “Bat Out of Hell” is a musical waiting to happen (I think it eventually did happen…), “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is an entire story all on its own. It features young lust, a vigorous exchange of ideas between our two protagonists, consummation and – inevitably – regret.

Some great lines here as well, but my favourite: “And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife” which captures that glint of light that comes from the instruments of the titular dashboard, even as it evokes the glow of youthful desire. Yeah, I said it. Titular.

Musically the record borrows from seventies stadium anthems, theatre, classical, doo wop and everything in between. You get pianos, guitars, duets, hand claps and all manner of excess, all blended into a soup of sex, speed, and rock and roll. sexual discovery through Steinman’s vision and Meat Loaf’s artistry. Is it all a bit ridiculous? You’re damned right it is – delightfully ridiculous.

There will always be a darkness lurking at the edge of my mind when I listen to “Bat Out of Hell.” I could harbour a futile anger at my now long-dead father for this, but life’s too short for that. In the end all we really have is how we own our experiences. “Bat Out of Hell” is a God-damned triumph. If it took a few decades longer than it should have for me to realize that, well that makes the victory – my victory – all the sweeter.

Post-script: Having written this I couldn’t remember if I even had my original vinyl anymore. Turns out, I don’t. I don’t remember when it left, and I don’t miss it. But the CD, and all the awesome memories it holds? That’s a keeper.

Best tracks: Bat Out of Hell, You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night), Paradise by the Dashboard Light, For Crying Out Loud

CD Odyssey Disc 1859: The Warning

Welcome back, dear readers! I’ve got a day chock-full of activity starting with a music review.

Disc 1859 is…Keep Me Fed

Artist: The Warning

Year of Release: 2024

What’s up with the Cover? The Warning (aka the Villerrial Velez sisters) ignore the likely warnings in this restaurant which includes directions like “don’t climb on the tables”. The assorted codgers dining with them react to the failure to acquiesce to such niceties with expressions ranging from mildly perturbed to demonstrably alarmed.

Side note: the center sister is brandishing some sort of centrepiece or elevated fruit bowl, but the way the light catches the archway in the background I kept thinking it was a crossbow. This would be cooler by several degrees but would definitely earn a second warning from the restaurant staff.

“No shoes on the table – and no crossbows at dinner!”

How I Came To Know It: I don’t recall, which is a bit embarrassing since given its location in my “new albums” section, I’ve only had this for about 6 months or so. I probably read a review of it somewhere but for the life of me I can’t find it now. It’s also possible someone mentioned it to me and I checked it out on that basis. If so and it was you, waiting for your recognition, I apologize.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only album by the Warning, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 3 stars

I had a devil of a time deciding if I liked “Keep Me Fed” or if I hated it. Was this another entry in a musical style I always enjoy, or a Trojan horse, sneaking sub-par entertainment into the collection, disguised as something better than it was?

The Warning is an all-girl band who play straight up hard rock, with catch hooks and plenty of crunch. Stylistically they sit mid-way between the Beaches and Halestorm.

Yeah, but all that aside – did I like it? Argh. So hard to know. Vocally the Warning have classic rock voices that are built for radio. Big bold vocals with just a bit of grit – but not so much so as to offend. They’re good, but not great. They don’t have the playful cockiness of the Beaches’ Jordan Miller, nor the range and power of Halestorm’s Lzzy Hale. This lack of offence threatened to offend me, and I had to remind myself that very few people have the levels of cockiness and power to compete with Miller and Hale. It’s an OK comparison in terms of describing the style, but you can be plenty good enough without scaling that mountain all the way to the top.

Then there was the production. So clean, so crunchy. Like a bowl of Froot Loops, full of sugary goodness, but also empty calories. All the dials turned up to 11 and then broken off. The car beside you that simply won’t turn that shit down.

But a strange thing happened as I progressed through multiple listens. I would hear a song and derisively think “well, that was an obvious hook” or “that way the guitar comes in and out of the mix is designed to trick me into liking this!”  But then I’d begrudgingly have to admit that the obvious hook was obvious because it felt so perfect. The mix was loud, but it sounded great in the car. So great I turned it up even more. I’m sure other drivers around me appreciated it. You’re welcome.

I’d come in looking to be dazzled by something new and innovative. That didn’t happen, but once I let go of that expectation. I realized that I’d almost fallen into the oldest trap set for a curmudgeonly music critic – wanting so desperately to discover something new that you fail to enjoy what’s right in front of you.

“Keep Me Fed” was not a Trojan Horse, forcing its way into the high walls of my august and carefully curated music collection. It was a pinata – a little hard to access at first, but full of sweets once you stop trying to examine it from every angle and just tear in.

And somewhere along the way…around the fourth or fifth time through…another dam broke and I started listening to the lyrics. These are full of damning observations about societal pressures to be a certain way, to behave, to conform, to accommodate – and a healthy ‘hell no’ to such notions. Not exactly groundbreaking, but a worthy and time-honoured rock and roll sensibility that the Warning deliver well.

Yes, this is straight ahead rock and roll. Really solid rock and roll. So solid you’ll be looking for something wrong with it instead of doing what it is designed for: fists thrown in the air, hair tossed about with abandon, and rocking out.

Sometimes you want to dwell over a complex glass of dark wine, and sometimes you just want a vodka cooler on a hot day. If it’s the latter you’re in the mood for, “Keep Me Fed” is just what you may be seeking. So stop thinking about it every thirty seconds and just turn it up. It may just pleasantly surprise you. It did me.

Best tracks: Apologize, Escapism, Burnout, Sharks

CD Odyssey Disc 1858: Cut Worms

Another self-titled album that is not the artist’s debut. Wrong as this is, I will set it aside and focus, as ever, on the music.

Disc 1858 is…Self-Titled

Artist: Cut Worms

Year of Release: 2023

What’s up with the Cover? Man plays guitar. Awkwardly. When I first got my guitar I took a picture of myself holding it in what I thought was a “I’m playing a guitar!” pose. I was later to learn, to my chagrin, that it was not.

This picture reminds me of that, and not in a good way.

How I Came To Know It: I was already a fan of Cut Worms having bought their 2020 release “Nobody Lives Here Anymore” so when this album came out I gave it a listen and liked what I heard.

How It Stacks Up: I have two Cut Worms albums, and if you’ve been reading along to this point, you already know what they are.

Ratings: 3 stars

Despite embracing the very modern conceit of performing under a false name Max Clarke (aka Cut Worms) is a throwback to a bygone era.

Clarke is far from exploring new ground, but the ground he drives makes for a smooth and comfortable ride – maybe in some mid-sixties family sedan. Like a Rambler. Clarke’s nasally tone and the production’s very minimal low-end bass would sound just find on the AM radio in that Rambler. On my stereo it felt a little tinny at times, but it was designed to sound that way.

I spent Sunday listening to a couple of more compelling vocalists in Ana Egge and Jeffrey Martin, and as a result Clarke’s high drift did not have the level of gravitas I was hoping for. I had a hard time paying attention to what he was singing about and mostly focused on the easy breezy sixties feel of his delivery.

There is a bit of modernity in the structures, but it’s a callback to previous versions of modernity. Think Beach Boys, but less “Barbara Ann” and more “Pet Sounds”. Sunny sixties fun, but with a bit of sad detachment lurking in and around the delivery; a mist of regret rising up from the pavement, like a hot day right after a rain.

For all this diffusion and detachment (and there is a fair bit of it), Cut Worms still manages to transport you to this alternate universe where the sixties didn’t die, but just flowered further into its full self.

The opening track, “Don’t Fade Out” has a delightful through-line of piano that makes it the album’s most energetic track. All that energy has a delightful irony given the song’s subject, which exhorts its audience to not “fade out”. Hard to imagine it’ll happen, but Clarke does a good job of leaving the matter in question. Fun, but with a healthy dollop of concern that the fun will one day end.

The guitar work on the record is strong, and the tone of Clarke’s playing on “Take It and Smile” belies the terrible pose he strikes on the cover. The vocals can sometimes suffer from detachment, and the guitar helps bring you back and lets you know that deep down, yes, Cut Worms feels the feels.

On “Is It Magic?” the guitar has a south sea islands feel, with a delivery so relaxed you’ll feel the sway of palm trees and have a compelling desire to drink cocktails garnished with pineapple slices and tiny umbrellas. I didn’t love “Is it Magic?” but I admit it made for a very relaxing three and a half minutes.

The record ends strong, with the pensive and introspective “Too Bad”. “Too Bad” is a song about loss and becoming lost, and while one of the record’s sadder tunes, is also one of the more beautiful. Even the low end makes a hesitant visit to the mix, and amidst images of burning ships and blank-faced compasses you don’t find yourself so much as you find acceptance in dissolution.

While there was a part of me that wanted cleaner production and more gravitas in the delivery, I still enjoyed Cut Worms in all their hazy glory. Three stars.

Best tracks: Don’t Fade Out, Take It and Smile, I’ll Never Make It, Too Bad