CD Odyssey Disc 444: Alice Cooper

Since the beginning, the dice gods have seemed to enjoy choosing Alice Cooper records for me to review.  This next review is my 18^th Alice Cooper record and the third in the last fifteen.  Weird.

Disc 444 is… Easy Action

Artist: Alice Cooper

Year of Release: 1970

What’s up with the Cover?  Modern Alice Cooper album covers usually have a lot going on, and – love them or hate them – high production values.  This one is from before the band made it big so it is pretty basic.  It looks like the guys couldn’t even afford shirts for the photo shoot.  How sad. 

How I Came To Know It:  I thought I had every Alice Cooper studio album, but then a few years ago they re-released a couple of his very early records on CD, “Pretties for You” and this one.  I snatched it up the moment it hit the shelves.

How It Stacks Up:  I have twenty-six studio albums by Alice Cooper.  This one ranks fairly low, likely around 21^st just above “Pretties for You” and just below “Constrictor.”  Yeah, I know I already assigned 21^st to “Constrictor” but I’ll move it up one to fit in this new situation.  When I’m finished all the Alice albums I’ll be doing a full ranking of them anyway, so I’ll sort it out then.  For now, you get the idea.

Rating:  2 stars.

You can have all the right ingredients, but without a good recipe the meal still won’t turn out right.  That’s what “Easy Action” represents in the Alice Cooper discography.

The record has everything that would make “Love it to Death” a classic rock album a year later, including provocatively weird guitar and bass work from Glen Buxton and Dennis Dunaway respectively, the ‘all-in’ delivery of Alice’s lead vocals and a willingness to experiment with traditional rock sounds and explore the edges of the genre.

The album opens with “Mr. & Misdemeanor” which has that show-tune quality which Alice Cooper has expanded even further in his solo career.  In fact, similar to “School’sOut”, “Westside Story” figures throughout the record in direct lyrical and musical references.  The piano borders on cheesy and juxtaposes passingly well with the prog guitar and Alice’s Lovecraftian shrieks of fevered excitement.

“Shoe Salesman” is a pure pop ditty that could just as easily be found on a Beatles record of around the same time.  It has that same light and airy melody of a Beatles song, and the same Beatles habit of overdoing the production wherever possible.  A number of the songs on the record show the band had grown up listening to the Fab Four and were incorporating what they heard (imperfectly) into their own still-evolving sound.

Most of the tracks are short, three minute songs crammed overfull with ideas, but there are a couple of longer pure-prog tracks that had me thinking of early Pink Floyd.  “Below Your Means” and “Lay Down and Die, Goodbye” both ‘explore the space’ to borrow from the Saturday Night Live skit.  Both songs show promise, but at around seven minutes each, they also suffer from attention deficit disorder, unable to spend enough time developing one musical thought before arbitrarily moving on to another one.  “Lay Down…” is a particularly unfocused song, jumping from idea to idea with the discipline of a hummingbird.

As a devoted Alice Cooper fan the imperfections of the album are enjoyable from a historical perspective.  It helps demonstrate some of their early ideas in a very raw and unrefined way that then assists in understanding the band’s future progression.  I enjoyed the journey overall, but it was maddening hearing snippets of greatness mixed together in an energy-laden, but undirected stew.

This is because for all of its promise, “Easy Action” is half-cooked on the production side.  It is almost there at every turn, but desperately needs a good editor to cut back the excess and then further develop the core of the work.  What the record needs is Bob Ezrin’s production.  Listening to it made me deeply appreciate what he did for the band.  Ezrin must have heard the same promise in these songs, and he had the ability and vision to draw greatness out of them when he worked with them a year later.

Taken on its own, though, the unfocused nature of “Easy Action” makes it an average album at best.  If you are a music historian, you’ll enjoy its role in both the psychedelic music of the time, and the specific development of the Alice Cooper band.  However, if you want to hear similar ideas better expressed, go a year into the future and buy the 1971 classic “Love it to Death.”  Once you’ve grokked that album in its fullness, you’ll be in a better position to go back and appreciate just how close “Easy Action” comes to greatness.

Best tracks:  Mr. & Misdemeanor, Shoe Salesman, Return of the Spiders 

CD Odyssey Disc 443: Barenaked Ladies

Over the weekend I finally got out and spent the gift certificate my friends Cat and Ross got me for my birthday.  It was for a local record store.  I love seventies and early eighties vinyl, but I limit the amount of it I buy for space considerations, and to keep peace on the home front (I already take up a lot of space with CDs, after all).

The two albums I bought were Blue Oyster Cult’s “Some Enchanted Evening” and Alice Cooper’s “Dada.”  I’ve reviewed the CD version of both already, so click on the link if that’s your thing.  I even have enough credit left over to grab some Emmylou Harris when I go back this Saturday (it was upstairs in storage, but the owner is going to get it down for me).

Anyway, many sincere thanks to Cat and Ross for the thoughtful gift – and now on to a review that I enjoyed but I know from personal experience will not make either Cat or Ross happy – they are not fond of this next band.

Disc 443 is… Stunt

Artist: Barenaked Ladies

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover?  A very bad version of collage art.  Is there a good version of collage art?  I can only hope there is some collage-master somewhere waiting to blow me away, but it seems unlikely. 

How I Came To Know It:  This album came out early in my relationship with Sheila.  We both liked the Barenaked Ladies and this album got a lot of play at the time.  I can’t remember who bought it – probably her – but we both put it on a fair bit in the day.

How It Stacks Up:  We have four Barenaked Ladies albums.  I like them differently for different reasons, but I guess I’ll put this one a very close second to “Gordon.”

Rating:  3 stars but almost 4

When I reviewed “Gordon” I mentioned it was the album that made this band ‘big’ – in Canada.  “Stunt” was the album that made them stars in the United States with a #1 hit “One Week.”  As a Canadian, I’m always happy when one of our bands is successfully exported that isn’t Celine Dion or Bryan Adams.  More important than all that success and national pride, “Stunt” is a quality record.

The Barenaked Ladies have always had a good mix of humorous and catchy pop hits and serious songs cleverly hidden as catchy pop hits.  While “Stunt” errs a little bit too far into their silly side, there’s still enough meat on the bone to keep me interested.  Also they do silly pop songs exceptionally well, and that’s hardly a crime

On the silly side is their big hit, “One Week,” a song driven by rapid fire rap-lite lyrics that tell the story of a couple’s one week argument, peppered with a hundred pop culture references that somehow still sound current when I hear them fifteen years later.  The song is a guilty pleasure, but it makes you want to sing along (when you can keep up) and it puts a smile on your face, so if it isn’t anything more than that, then I’ve said worse.

It is always interesting to me when  record becomes so defined by one monster hit (in fact, I wonder if in the United States market these guys are something of a one-hit wonder).  The hit tends to overshadow everything else on the record, and in the case of “Stunt” that’s unfortunate.

“One Week” isn’t even the best funny pop song on the album; that honour goes to “Alcohol” which was apparently released as a single in the U.S. and only made it to #33, which basically means it briefly rode the coat-tails of “One Week.”

“Alcohol” is a funny description of some of the less noble reasons why we drink to excess (as if there were any more noble reasons).  It’s also the way humour should work; making us laugh but also wince a little at our own foibles.  It starts off:

“Alcohol, my permanent accessory

Alcohol, a party-time necessity

Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself

O Alcohol, I still drink to your health.”

The song will have you mirthfully recalling all the dumb things you’ve done when you were young, drunk and stupid.  We all love to tell these stories, which is strange, since most of them involve some kind of bad judgment and almost all of them end with the denouement of a brutal hangover.  Yet the song is such infectious fun, that even as it closes with the very sober lines: 

“O Alcohol, would you please forgive me?

For while I cannot love myself

I’ll use something else.”

We still sing along gleefully.  This is a song about alcohol abuse (hence the plea for forgiveness), but it is wrapped up in a delivery system so sweet and tasty you have to concentrate to notice – not unlike its subject matter often is.

“In the Car” aren’t as interesting melodically, but I like the way it tackles early lust, and the experience we’ve all had as teens; making out in the car.  It brought back all of the awkward and fun memories of that North American rite of sexual passage.  Of course, this being the Barenaked Ladies, the narrator tells his audience that he secretly lusted after his girlfriend’s Mom, fancying that she might hear him sing about it on the radio and turning to her new husband to exclaim, “I think that’s me.”

On the more somber side, “Call and Answer” is the ‘side two’ version of “One Week.”  It is the story of a longer and more serious collapse of a relationship, but one with the chance of hope, as the singer desperately reaches out through the hurt to his partner, advising her that if she calls, he will answer, all the while admitting they are ‘courting this disaster.’  Yeah, an intended pun, but if you hear it, it works.

Other times, however, “Stunt” misses on its efforts to be straight up somber.  “Light Up My Room” sing about living near power lines, but the topic isn’t interesting enough to be either funny or serious.  “Leave” is a song about a relationship breakdown, but unlike “Call and Answer” it is too cute for its own good.  The cute turns of phrase don’t speak to a deeper truth, they just cover it up completely.

That said, “Stunt” is much more likely to hit on any given song than miss, and these guys can write a song about anything.  In “When You Dream” they muse about whether a newborn baby dreams about quantum mechanics while seamlessly slipping in baby anatomy words like “fontanelle” (look it up – I had to).  Sure this album is a bit too clever for its own good, but better that than not clever enough.

Best tracks:  One Week, Alcohol, Call and Answer, Never is Enough

CD Odyssey Disc 422: The Shins

This next review has disrupted the naturally random order of things as a “NEW” album, as per rule #5 (see sidebar).  I don’t usually invoke rule #5 these days unless I’ve just seen the tour associated with the album.  That’s what’s happened here, so like with my recent reviews of Lyle Lovett and Janelle Monae, I’ll also review the concert.

Disc 442 is… Port of Morrow

Artist: The Shins

Year of Release: 2012

What’s up with the Cover?  I’m not entirely sure, although it’s decidedly creepy.  Some kind of alien rabbit, or maybe a Kachina doll seems to be emerging from a mystical portal.  I wonder if considering the album title, the cover is a veiled reference to Donnie Darko, which featured a rabbit (of sorts) from the future.

How I Came To Know It:  Sheila and I were already established Shins fans when this album came out, so this was just us drilling through the collection.

How It Stacks Up:  We have four Shins albums, which I think is all of them, not counting James Mercer’s other projects.  Of the four, “Port of Morrow” holds up nicely, and I think it is second or third best, depending on my mood.

Rating:  4 stars

When “Port of Morrow” was released it had been five years since the last Shins album (the five star masterpiece “Wincing the Night Away”).  In between, James Mercer had teamed up with Danger Mouse to make an album under the name “Broken Bells” which was also pretty awesome, so the expectation levels were kind of high for “Port of Morrow.”

Of course, with the exception of singer and creative force James Mercer, the band had been pretty much completely replaced since 2007, so for me that expectation was muted.   A great band is a bit of alchemy, and you mess with the formula at your peril.  In the case of the Shins, it seems to have worked out, which is a significant testament to Mercer’s amazing talent.

The songwriting is still there, exceptional melodies that are like ghosts in the ears; hauntingly present when you’re listening, but ephemeral and hard to hang on to as soon as they stop.   It’s hard to explain, but it is a quality I feel in every Shins album; like Mercer is a preacher on the shores of the River Styx, full of an eerie compulsion that is then forgotten in the very act of drinking them in.  At least that’s how they are to me, maybe I just need to listen to them more and they’ll stick.

Lyrically, I’ve complained about early Shins albums being deliberately obtuse, but on this record and “Wincing the Night Away” Mercer seems to have corrected this affectation, and is now content to sing full thoughts.

A lot of those thoughts are sad and troubled, and I think “Port of Morrow” is at its best when covering troubling topics.  “No Way Down” is a song about the gap between the haves and the have nots.  My favourite line is:

“Out beyond the western squalls

In an Indian land

They work for nothing at all

They don't know the mall or the layaway plan.”

The tune is fast and fun, the perfect juxtaposition to the topic.  If you aren’t careful you’ll find yourself dancing along mindlessly to the catchy tune, and not pay attention to the deeper message.  I think Mercer wants some people to do this, just to prove his point.

In addition to the songwriting, Mercer’s voice still amazes me.  He hits high notes no man has any right being able to hit, and still has enough power in the high register to fill them with deeper import, with plenty left over.

“Port of Morrow” doesn’t have the same depth as “Wincing the Night Away” lyrically, and it doesn’t haunt me the same way when the last song ends, but it adds a nice element of pop/disco jump that I can only assume Mercer learned from his time in “Broken Bells.”  I like this new flavor, which shows that great bands are only great when they’re willing to always add something new to their sound.

The Concert, September 24, 2012 – The Royal Theatre

Sheila and I took in the Shins concert at the Royal Theatre on Sunday night and it was a mixed bag, but most of the problems had nothing to do with the Shins.

Firstly, the opening act, “Washed Out” was not up to the task.  Admittedly it is hard to be the opening act, with the sound all set up for the guys who come on after you, it can sound pretty muddy up there.

That said, the words of every song were unintelligible, and without them it was even more painfully evident that every song essentially sounded the same.  That sameness took the form of heavily derivative eighties beats, which Sheila correctly pointed out sounded like a re-imagined “Simple Minds.”

On top of this, the light show regularly shone floods into the audience directly into my eyes.  There were five lights, and by the end of it I felt like Jean-Luc Picard being interrogated by the Cardassians (although in my case, there actually were five lights).

Anyway, I’d have preferred the road that brought the band to town to have been washed out.

Once the Shins started playing, things improved dramatically.  These guys are very tight live, and the songs sounded as good as the studio recordings.  They didn’t do a lot of innovative stuff with what they played, apart from minor phrasing decisions on the vocals of a couple of the older songs, but I think it is a positive when the band that can sound as good live as on the recording.

The set list was a good mix.  It was a healthy dose of the new album, with the favourites from previous records sprinkled in.  Both Sheila and I were disappointed that some of our more obscure favourites (such as “A Comet Appears”) didn’t make it into the show, but that’s always a hazard of liking an obscure track.

Their encore was not as well selected, featuring one recognizable song followed by about ten minutes of atmospheric noodling.  I like atmospheric noodling as much as the next guy (OK not quite as much, but I’m tolerant of it).  However, timing for this stuff is important in a live show.  Any artsy stuff should come about three quarters of the way through the show, after the audience is good and warmed up, but leaving room at the end to go out on a high with some crowd faves.  You also want to save some of those faves for the encore.  Closing the show with a bunch of atmospheric wankery was the concert equivalent of drunken sex; ending the show with a sleepy resignation, rather than a bang.

Worst of all, was the audience experience.  Some guy in the back was shouting “woo!” about once every bar, and when he wasn’t “wooing” he was loudly insulting the crowd for not standing up enough.  Standing up at a concert is a spontaneous and joyful thing; you wreck it when you demand its appearance prematurely.  Also dude – it’s rude.

The area near us had people talking through the concert, although mercifully not as loud as Standalone Guy.  It made me wonder why they bought tickets – you could do that just as easily at home while listening to the four singles you downloaded from iTunes.

To be fair, a lot of the fans were as rapt as Sheila and I, and it was nice to see other people came for the music, and were equally aghast at the bad behavior of an unhappy few.  However, even legitimate fans had no defence from the legions of bad, out-of-time clappers.  These folks took up their cause even during slow parts of songs where clapping would’ve been awkward even if it was on the beat.

Still, I’m glad I went, and the Shins were good enough to ‘shine’ through the challenges and deliver a generally solid show.

Best tracks:  Simple Song, It’s Only Life, No Way Down, Fall of ‘82

CD Odyssey Disc 441: The Beatles

Writing is a time commitment.  It’s one I enjoy, but today I am feeling the pinch more than usual.  I’ve got to get my finished work off to a new agent (I came close on my last pitch, and got some good feedback as well, so I’m re-invigorated for the challenge).

I’ve also got the next chapter of my new book burning away in my head, and it needs to get out.  My book is always bubbling away in my mind, partly because of a technique I read about on Dan Simmon’s writer’s site (he learned it from Hemmingway).  Basically, when you finish each writing session, make sure you finish in the middle of a thought, not at the end of one.  That way the thought will keep fermenting in your head until the next session (and maybe even change for the better). When you sit down to start again, you won’t be starting cold.  It’s amazingly effective.

Finally, after a series of average to good albums, I’ve got a review that I’m really excited about.  Add it all up, and I’ve got the opposite of writer’s block.  I’ve got too many words in my head and too little time to get ‘em out.  Here’s a few, anyway.

Disc 441 is… Abbey Road

Artist: The Beatles

Year of Release: 1969

What’s up with the Cover?  This cover needs no introduction.  It is so famous tourists go to this spot just to have their picture taken recreating it.  One thing that always catches my attention is that Paul is the one going barefoot, and smoking a cigarette.  You’d think that would be John.

How I Came To Know It: It’s “Abbey Road” and I haven’t lived my entire life in a cave in the Himalayas.  I expect one out of every three Himalayan cave dwellers would know this album as well.

How It Stacks Up:  We have seven Beatles albums (really, they’re Sheila’s and I’m along for the ride).  Of the seven, “Abbey Road” is far and away my favourite.

Rating:  5 stars

Those who know me know that I think the Beatles generally get a level of hero worship from critics and fans far in excess of their importance to rock and roll history.  “Abbey Road” however, is an example where this hero worship is richly deserved.  From the bass line that starts off “Come Together” through to the cheeky salute to the Queen at track seventeen this album is essentially perfect.

“Abbey Road” features some of the most iconic pop songs of all time.  The aforementioned “Come Together” jumps out front, inviting listeners to join in a celebration of music (despite wanting to have my usual misgivings, I quickly found myself RSVPing an enthusiastic ‘yes’).  “Something” and “Here Comes the Sun” are two of the most touching and romantic love songs I’ve ever heard.  “Here Comes the Sun” in particular has always made me feel like everything is going to be alright.  I can remember hearing this song on AM radio as a kid, and thirty-five years later it had exactly the same effect on me.  I could play it a hundred times and not get tired of hearing its sweet, beautiful melody.

There are a couple of songs that have a bit of a novelty feel (“Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” and “Octopus’s Garden”).  When I hear these songs as singles outside of the context of the whole “Abbey Road” experience I tend to not enjoy them as much.  Within the context of the album, however, and separated by the bluesy “Oh! Darling” they fit right in.  I could probably live without “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” but then what would keep the romantic “Something” from the break-up beauty of “Oh! Darling”?  And once you start moving those around, you’d have to start moving other songs around to compensate. After about two hours of bumping the tracks around you’d come to realize that he Beatles ordered them perfectly, and you’d grudgingly put “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” right where it is, resplendent in all of its homicidal goofiness.

Part of the beauty of an album (as opposed to a collection of singles) is song order.  It helps that “Abbey Road” has an amazing collection of classic tracks, but they are made even better by their perfect connection with one another.  It’s the auditory equivalent of picking up your poker hand and finding not only a Royal Flush, but one that is already arranged in sequential order.  All you’ve got to do at that point is not look too smug when you place your opening bet.

This brings me to a very important point about this record, as opposed to lesser efforts like “Magical Mystery Tour.” “Magical Mystery Tour” loads so much innovative production into the songs that it becomes a hot mess.  “Abbey Road” also has great and innovative production, but it is toned down so that it can serve the songs, rather than its own cleverness.  Something as simple as putting the light guitar plucking at the beginning of “Here Comes the Sun” out of the left channel only, and then bringing in the voice on the right to create a warm handshake in the middle of the room is the kind of simple, smart decision that I wish the Beatles would always make.

What struck me on this listen overall was how prog-tastic this record is as well.  “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” is a sixties prog classic, with its wacky organ, dope fiend ambience, and the way it seems to switch between two totally different, yet totally connected songs.  “Medley” is also kind of proggy, advertised on CD version as eight separate short songs starting with “You Never Give Me Your Money” and ending – fittingly – with “The End”. 

This is the best part of this record, even though it makes it impossible to enjoy “Abbey Road” properly on shuffle.  I have so many favourite parts of this mega-song.  The raucous and scandalous “Polythene Pam” (who’s so good looking that she looks like a man), the melodic and subtly insulting “You Never Give Me Your Money,” and the angst-ridden inspirations of “Golden Slumbers” and “Carry that Weight.” All great, but if you take only one thing away from the whole medley, then you should take the final words of “The End”

“And in the end the love you take

Is equal to the love…you make.”

Even the most maligned Beatle, Ringo Starr, delivers the goods.  The drumming on “Abbey Road” is excellent, engaging and goes well beyond the derisive “he kept time” jibes that are often directed Ringo’s way.  My vision of Ringo as a bumbling oaf hanging out with musicians makes me want to believe the drum bits are written for him (I have no idea) but either way, you can’t deny he delivers.

This record breaks my usual rule of no more than 14 tracks, but you can do that when you make a great record, and “Abbey Road” is a great record.  So much has been written on it over the years that this review won’t have uncovered any new ground, except to say that every time I feel like getting on my “the Beatles weren’t that great” soap-box, just put on this record to shut me up.  Every time I hear it, I like it more, and it even makes me appreciate the rest of their albums a little more.

Best tracks:  All tracks (even “Octopus’s Garden” as long as it isn’t taken out of context).  I particularly like Come Together, I Want You (She’s So Heavy), Here Comes the Sun, and the entire Medley from “You Never Give Me Your Money” through to “The End”

CD Odyssey Disc 440: Crash Vegas

I’m on an embarrassing run of broken jewel cases.  This next album not only has broken tines for holding the CD in, but the cover hinge is also broken.  Definitely in need of replacement, and a black mark for someone like me who prides himself on taking care of his music collection.  Not in this case, it would seem.

Disc 440 is… Aurora

Artist: Crash Vegas

Year of Release: 1995

What’s up with the Cover?  The giant head cover – only with two heads!  One of the heads is obscured by hands, but fortunately it isn’t singer Michelle McAdorey, who is quite a fetching lass, in that pixie-haired mid-nineties kind of way.

How I Came To Know It: I think I heard these guys singing “Pocahontas” in a video and really liked it.  At the time I had no idea it was a Neil Young remake.  That’s no crime, though; the more I learn about music the more I realize how little I know.  This is a good thing, because it means there are many discoveries still out there waiting.

How It Stacks Up:  Crash Vegas released three albums in the early nineties, but I only have this one, so it doesn’t really stack up.

Rating:  3 stars

There was plenty of good Canadian university music in the early nineties, or maybe it’s just that I was in university, so I remember it favourably.  Whatever the case, somewhere along the way I got onto the atmospheric folk/rock mix of Crash Vegas long enough to buy this album – their last before the band would go its separate ways.

Atmospheric is the first word that comes to mind with these guys.  The production reminded me strongly of Daniel Lanois, although not as good.  Imagine, then, my self-satisfaction when I found that Lanois’ sister, Jocelyne played bass on the record.  I can only assume Daniel and Jocelyne were raised in Atlantis, because whatever they touch gets this waves n’ water vibe.

Singer Michelle McAdorey isn’t just a distinctly pretty face; she’s got a distinctly pretty voice to match.  Her voice makes me think of those awkwardly shy but attractive pretty indie girls that you fall in love with late at a house party.  Or maybe a changeling pretending to be that girl to lure you out into the depths of the overgrown garden out back and steal you off to faerie land.  Both visions are equally pleasant.  Whatever it is, her breathy delivery doesn’t overpower you, but she still manages to stay above the band’s layers of production without ever sounding like she’s straining to do it.

The rest of the musicians didn’t stand out for me, but that is more a decision in the arrangements, which don’t call for a lot of noodling or displays of virtuosity.  Crash Vegas is a band that is much more in the modern folk-indie style, where a series of simple parts are played together to make an interesting layer of sound, but no one instrument dominates.

The downside to this is that the songs can tend to blend together, and the record loses some dynamics.  It’s also a bit overlong at sixty minutes, reminding me of when CDs started fully replacing LPs, and artists stopped being so vicious about leaving lesser tracks on the cutting room floor.

Musically these songs are introspective, get-in-touch-with-your-feelings numbers.  They are best suited for head phones, preferably with a small helping of self-loathing.  I don’t always know what they’re singing about - some of the stuff is a bit too creative writing workshop for my tastes – but they capture tone and mood well, and that’s the first thing music’s got to do to be successful.

A case in point is “Weekend.”  I don’t know what this song is about, but when McAdorey sings “It’s my weekend/I feel good” it reminds me of how jealously we guard our weekends when we’ve got little else.  It’s a fragile yet defiant expression that no matter how broke or lonely you might be, the weekend is yours.  I think it’s about some other stuff as well but again, the clouds of poetry workshop obscurity were too much for my ears to penetrate.

Not so obscure is “Clinic” a brilliant and emotionally terrifying description of a trip to an abortion clinic.  I’m not qualified to comment on what that must feel like, but I can better appreciate it because of this song’s stark and thoughtful lyrics.  These are paired with a single reverberating electric guitar that sounds desperately like it wants to be acoustic.  I love when electric guitars do that.

“Aurora” isn’t all depressing though, and the few up-tempo songs are a welcome break.  “On and On (Lodestar),” “Old Enough” and “Scarborough” all kick it up a notch, and all three are favourites of mine on the record.  I do have to point out that “Scarborough” ends with a minute of recorded silence, and then another minute of electric guitars making whale songs.  It is a sad decision on an otherwise rockin’ track.

And of course, there’s “Pocahontas,” the remake of the Neil Young classic.  Crash Vegas so perfectly own this song that I was shocked pink to find it wasn’t actually their song.  I love Neil’s version as well, but Crash Vegas’ is so different I appreciate it just as much.  They strip the hippy sound right out of it and fill it with university pub-performance (the good kind, not the ‘please put the canned music back on’ kind).

This album drags a little in places, but it is mostly solid, with not a few stand outs.  With only three albums – and the last of those over fifteen years ago – Crash Vegas hasn’t survived in the public consciousness the way they deserve.  This record does sound very much of its time, but it stands up well in the present as well, and I was glad to get reacquainted with it for the umpteenth time.

Best tracks:  On and On (Lodestar), Weekend, Old Enough, Clinic, Pocahontas, Scarborough

CD Odyssey Disc 439: Alice Cooper

This next record isn’t my favourite, and it doesn’t help that the plastic tines that the CD in place in the jewel case are broken.  Man, I hate that.  If I played this album more, I’d replace the case, but instead I’ll probably put it back on the shelf and forget it’s broken until the next time I take it down and have the disc bounce out of there as I impotently curse our disposable culture all over again.

Disc 439 is… The Eyes of Alice Cooper

Artist: Alice Cooper

Year of Release: 2003

What’s up with the Cover?  A masked Alice Cooper shows off old school makeup from his early days.  Of note, this album cover came with a variety of different colours for the eyes – I have the red one, but I think you can get blue and green as well.  I’ll stick with the one, unless I happen to find another one on the cheap somewhere.

How I Came To Know It: I’ve known Alice Cooper since I was a young boy, and this album is just me doing what I do; drilling through his complete discography.  When I find an artist I like this much, I tend to by every album they make.

How It Stacks Up:  The whole ‘buy every album they make’ is generally successful, but it isn’t foolproof.  I have twenty-six studio albums by Alice Cooper and “The Eyes of…” is one of my least favourites.  I’ll put it 25^th out of 26.  Yes, there is room for worse, but precious little of it.

Rating:  2 stars

The cover of this record may feature Cooper’s old-school makeup, and he may think he’s returning to his hard rock roots, but the truth is this record was a major disappointment for me.

Cooper’s songwriting is a skill that has never left him, drunk or sober, but over the years he has occasionally shown a Kool & the Gang-like propensity to embrace whatever is going on in the music scene at that particular moment.  This can deliver some surprisingly groovy stuff – he delivers Cooper-disco tracks on “Alice Cooper Goes to Hell” and Cooper-new wave on “Flush the Fashion.” His mid-eighties metal records aren’t his most inspiring work, but as eighties metal goes, it delivers.

On “Eyes” Cooper builds a very unfortunate chimera indeed, combining a Nu-Metal sound with song construction very similar to later Green Day.  Nu-Metal never sounded good from the beginning, and anything remotely reminiscent of it suffers; Cooper’s take is no exception.  Later Green Day is a good sound, but only Green Day seems to be able to pull it off; everything else comes off as the pop/punk equivalent of Creed trying to sound like Pearl Jam.

In fact the song, “Between High School & Old School” prominently features a riff that is almost identical to Green Day’s 2000 song, “Minority.”  The title of the song sums up the problem with this record, which seems to be trying to look back on Cooper’s early career, and instead comes off as dated and out of step.  “What Do You Want from Me?” even features a line about an XBOX.  Game consoles have a very limited shelf-life, so it is usually a bad idea to reference them in music, especially if you are over fifty when you do it.

The oft-tapped well of sappy love ballads is represented with “Be With You Awhile” and it is OK, but it can’t hold a candle to classics like “Only Women Bleed” and “You and Me.”  It does display that Cooper still has vocal chops, so I’ll give it that, but in most ways it is a pale imitation of previous greats that said “I love you” so much better.

So questionable production, and derivative licks and topics – what’s to like about this record?  Well as I noted earlier, Cooper’s songwriting talent shines through, and he has a real knack for collaborating on that front with other musicians.  Bob Ezrin is long gone, but Cooper always manages to patch something passable together, even in his weakest moments.

“Detroit City” is a retrospective where Cooper goes back over his place in rock history, and names lots of legends (Iggy Pop, MC5, Ziggy Stardust) to put a smile on an aging rock fan’s face (full disclosure:  I am an aging rock fan).  The song also captures Cooper’s sneer-driven vocals which he so perfectly pairs with show-tune excess.  There’s even an out-of-control saxophone thrown in during the fade out (and a fade out).

 “Love Should Never Feel Like This” is a sappy eighties power track, but it is a rare exception on the record, with good production decisions, and reminded me of the better aspects of Cooper’s hair-metal days on “Trash” and “HeyStoopid.”  Of course, those weren’t his best days either, so let’s just move on.

My guilty pleasure (OK – my second guilty pleasure after “Detroit City”) on this record is “The Song That Didn’t Rhyme” which is mostly a series of very clever lyrics about penning a bad song and then marketing it anyway.  The chorus is deeply ironic:

“Oh the melody blows

In a key that no one can find.

The lyrics don’t flow.

But I can’t get it out of my mind.”

Because the melody is quite nice and yes (in case you didn’t notice) it does rhyme –quite cleverly throughout the song in fact.  It ends with:

“A three minute waste of your time

No redeeming value of any kind

But thanks for the $12.99

On the song that didn’t rhyme.”

This song was nothing special but it left a smile on my face.  It is the 11^th track on the album, and it is a shame Cooper doesn’t end it here, on a high note.  Instead he tacks on a couple more unmemorable tracks that make the record a little too long and a little too lame.

Still, Alice has given me a lot of love over the years, and he even thanked me for the $12.99.  You’re welcome, Alice.

Best tracks:  Novocaine, Detroit City, The Song That Didn’t Rhyme

CD Odyssey Disc 438: Steve Earle

After completing a couple of artists in consecutive weeks, we return to what usually happens on the CD Odyssey:  a Steve Earle review.

I’ve had an eventful week, and a little Steve Earle has been just what the doctor ordered to calm my troubled nerves.

Disc 438 is… Transcendental Blues

Artist: Steve Earle

Year of Release: 2000

What’s up with the Cover?  Another Tony Fitzpatrick art piece.  Steve Earle loves this guy but as long-time readers will know, I don’t.  This isn’t his worst, which isn’t saying much.  It kind of looks like Little Shop of Horrors re-imagined as an extra-terrestrial quilting bee.  If only it were as cool as that sounds.

How I Came To Know It: I’ve known Steve Earle since his first album.  I bought “Transcendental Blues” a few years after it came out, as I worked on completing my collection at the time.

How It Stacks Up:  I have sixteen Steve Earle albums, but one is live and the other is all Townes Van Zandt remakes.  Both are great, but I don’t include them in the rankings.  Of those I do include, I’ve got to reluctantly put “Transcendental Blues” last, or 14^th.

Rating:  3 stars

If after eleven previous reviews there were any doubt how much I like Steve Earle, giving my least favourite album three stars should put those doubts to rest.

After dabbling heavily with bluegrass on 1999’s “The Mountain,” “Transcendental Blues” comes back to the more traditional late-period Steve Earle sound of roots rock and country.  The songs here mix in electric neo-Copperhead Road guitar with the gentler “I’m sober now” sound that Earle has brilliantly discovered in the last ten years of his career.

Standouts include the title track, which finds Earle once again in his comfort zone, crooning a highway song, musing:

“Back roads never carry you where you want ‘em to

They leave you standin’ there with them ol’ transcendental blues.”

The song shows Steve in transition from the hungry days of his early records, but not yet crossed over into the angry, frustrated songs of 2002’s “Jerusalem.”  It is a nice balance of spirit, and the record is aptly named.  Also, while not listed in the liner notes, I’m sure I hear a bodhran playing low early in the title track.  I’m a sucker for the bodhran.

Unfortunately, at times it feels like this record is straddling too many worlds at the same time.  His heavy, reverb rock sound is present here, but it isn’t as fully developed as it is on “Jerusalem.”  In places it just sounds like an annoying drone that is distracting from otherwise great songs.  He tries adding classical strings to songs like “The Boy Who Never Cried” but while it’s ambitious it doesn’t quite come together.  Also, as much as I’d like to approach Transcendental Blues” on its own terms, I can’t help but note that it pales in comparison to the record comes after it.  It made me want to go put “Jerusalem” on and listen to it instead.

The record also breaks the fourteen song limit.  True, it is only one song over and with many of them short the record doesn’t drag or make me fidgety waiting for it to end.  Nevertheless, it is a bit uneven, and I think leaving two or three tracks on the studio floor would’ve improved the overall quality.  It also would’ve helped make individual tracks stand out.  Apart from “Galway Girl” the record is solid but lacks the peaks and valleys that help set each song apart from the other.

Earle also breaks the “production out-takes” rule, putting pointless comments at the ends or beginnings of songs.  It is supposed to give the record a relaxed feel, but instead make it sound unedited.  You’re a brilliant songwriter, Steve, but I came for the show, not to poke around behind the curtain.

These are minor quibbles, mind you.  We are talking about Steve Earle, after all, and the man’s genius will quickly make you forget any small problems as he delivers each song with a full emotional commitment to every single track.

Standouts include the aforementioned “Galway Girl”, a brilliant re-imagining of how Celtic folk music would sound, if it had been written by Texans.  It’s a classic that still survives into set lists on current tours, and I’m always glad to hear it come on.  Also it features a bodhran and a tin whistle.  An embarrassment of riches

“Galway Girl’s” jumpy, free-spirited roll is perfectly followed up with “Lonelier Than This,” featuring no bodhran, and no whistle; just Steve Earle’s voice, drenched with emotion, first with a somber acoustic guitar, and then a little light percussion and electric guitar played high to add a little wistful to the sad because – you know – they go well together.

The final two tracks are the raucous and rebellious “All My Life”, followed immediately by the broken confessional, “Over Yonder (Johnathan’s Song).”  “Over Yonder” tells the tale of a death-row inmate heading for his execution, at peace with where he thinks he’s going.  It isn’t as powerful as other Earle tracks on the same subject (“Billy Austin” from 1990’s “The Hard Way” or “Ellis Unit One” from 2002’s “Sidetracks”) but it is pretty good, and as ever Earle once again shows us the humanity in those that many would just as soon conveniently forget.

Yes the record is a bit long, and the production falters in places, but by the end of it I couldn’t deny Steve Earle had once again demonstrated why he is – and always will be – an artist that moves and inspires me every time I hear him.

Best tracks:  Transcendental Blues, Steve’s Last Ramble, The Galway Girl, Lonelier Than This, Over Yonder (Johnathan’s Song)

CD Odyssey Disc 437: Audioslave

For the second review in a row, this album represents the last one in my collection by the band.  In the case of Tracy Chapman, I strangely rolled them in chronological order by release date.  In the case of Audioslave, I rolled them in reverse chronological order.  An ominous coincidence or just the mind’s never ending search for pattern recognition within the chaos?  I’m going with the latter.

Disc 437 is… Audioslave (Self-Titled) 

Artist: Audioslave

Year of Release: 2002

What’s up with the Cover?  This cover is like one of those conceptual art pieces from the cover of a seventies sci fi novel, only minus the art.  Frozen fire?  Our relationship to the absurd expressed in alien-like landscapes?  Finding cold comfort on the deserted beaches of our own psyche?  I could write a hundred cool introductions to this cover and the art would still fail to inspire.

How I Came To Know It: As I’ve mentioned on previous Audioslave reviews, I was introduced to this band by my buddy Chris D.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Audioslave albums, which I believe is all of them.  This is their first and their best effort.  As I noted above, this again completes an artist and so here’s a quick recap for those who haven’t been reading along since Disc 25:

1. Self-Titled: 3 stars (reviewed right here).
2. Out of Exile:  3 stars (reviewed at Disc 329).
3. Revelations:  2 stars (reviewed at Disc 25).

Rating:  3 stars, but nearly 4

When I first got this record I was pretty stoked about how it sounded.  Here was visceral energy, with the powerful guitar licks of Rage Against the Machine’s Tom Morello matched with the peerless rock voice of Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell.  For about a month I put it on for every fellow fan of hard rock that visited the house for longer than twenty minutes.  Most reacted with a polite ‘meh’.

Good friends are the ones who will tell you when your fly is down, when your breath is bad or when a band is not as great as you imagine they are in the flush of new discovery.  Ten years later, I still enjoy this album, but I can now see why my good friends weren’t as excited as I thought they should have been.

First the good stuff, and there is plenty.  The Rage Against the Machine band is incredibly tight and no one lays down that rare combination of heavy and funky that they do.  These are guitars that dig down into your innards and get a hold of that mystical organ that I imagine exists somewhere below the solar plexus and above the stomach.  That spot that always seems to be the source of flight in my dreams where that’s possible. Power chords seem to find a home there as well, from which they radiate out through the rest of the body.

Once he’s honed in on that spot, Morello adds a thousand other strange and wonderful pieces of genius with the guitar that spread upward to the hippocampus and other lower reaches of the back of the brain.  It won’t make you breakdance or vogue, but it’ll certainly get you swaying rhythmically in place.

Cornell is in fine throat as well, proving why of the three Audioslave records made this is easily the best one.  His voice is deployed as more of an instrument than a language centre.  There are places where he hits me, like the persistent – and slightly angry – demand to a higher power in “Show Me How To Live”:

“Nail in my hand

From my creator

You gave me life

Now show me how to live.”

He manages to sing these lines as both prayer and a renunciation of prayer at the same time.  It isn’t great prose on its own, but it proves that if you sing it with enough feeling, you can make anything seem deep.

Apart from the occasionally noticed snippets like this, I found a hard time concentrating on the lyrics.  Usually this bothers me, but Cornell just fits his voice in with the dense groove of the band so well that it is just another instrument, to be appreciated on that level first and foremost.  Cornell is just burning vocal gasoline and we shouldn’t take anything more from it than that.

Speaking of burning gasoline, when I did notice the lyrics, there were a few too many songs with highway and driving imagery.  In addition to the powerful and energetic “Gasoline” alluded to above, the band adds lesser songs like “I Am the Highway” and “Getaway Car,” both of which I could have lived without.

In fact, at fourteen tracks, the biggest problem with this record is it is slightly overlong.  I know I’ve said before that fourteen is the far edge of acceptable, but I’ve also said that every record is different.  For this one, I think a tightly chosen ten to twelve tracks would’ve ensured only the best appeared.  Always leave them wanting more, not less.

Instead, around track twelve, I found myself glancing at my MP3 player frequently, checking how many minutes were left in the remaining songs.  This is not a good sign.  I’ve noticed generally that Audioslave albums are a bit bloated, and front-end loaded in terms of song quality, and it is true here as well.

Songs like “Set It Off” are brilliant, with Cornell crooning slow and mournfully in parts, only to jump into full throat when the song kicks you in the tender spots at the chorus.  When he croons a bit too much, like on “I Am the Highway” or “The Last Remaining Light” you can see the shadow of his future overwrought solo albums (both of which I’ve long since sold).  Fortunately these moments are few and far between.

Also fortunately, the production on this album is top shelf, perfectly combining the angst-ridden sludge of Soundgarden and the precise fury of Rage Against the Machine into something that is new and interesting.  I was not at all surprised to find master producer Rick Rubin was responsible.  Mr. Rubin, I thank you again for all the music you’ve made that much better over the last thirty years or so.

In summation, Audioslave’s first effort is their best effort.  It has a few minor drawbacks that kept it from achieving four stars by the thinnest of margins, but those crimes were minor.  If you are ever inclined to give these guys a chance, this is the place to start.

Best tracks:  Cochise, Show Me How To Live, Gasoline, Set It Off, Exploder

CD Odyssey Disc 436: Tracy Chapman

This next album snuck up on me a little.  I should’ve known not to ever doubt this next artist.

Disc 436 is… New Beginning 

Artist: Tracy Chapman

Year of Release: 1995

What’s up with the Cover?  This album has a sleeve insert that allows for one of two covers, so I’m including them both.  I think the default one is the close up of a flower.  It is just a bit too mid-nineties folk for my tastes, but I guess that makes sense.  I prefer the other option, which is Tracy looking happy and relaxed, like we’ve interrupted her in her backyard garden.  I use that one in my CD collection, and so here it is for you to enjoy as well:

How I Came To Know It: I’ve known Tracy Chapman since her first album (more on that at my review for her debut self-titled record, linked below). This particular record was a Christmas or birthday gift from my lovely wife Sheila.

How It Stacks Up:  Tracy Chapman has eight albums, but I only have the first four.  Of those four, I’ll put this one last.  I still liked it, but the other three are just that much better.  Since this completes this artist (and since I have three or more albums by her) tradition dictates a quick recap, in order of preference:

1. Self Titled: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 48).
2. Crossroads:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 234).
3. Matters of the Heart:  4 stars (reviewed at Disc 289).
4. New Beginning:  3 stars (reviewed right here).

Rating:  3 stars

Tracy Chapman makes me feel inspired for a better world, even when she sings about a worse one.  “New Beginning” is not at all new in this regard, and I was glad for it as it shone a little sunshine into my disposition on my way to and from work the last couple of days.

Chapman’s voice is so bluesy and full, and yet incredibly fragile at the same time.  When she sings about her own heartache you want to reach down the speaker wire and give her a big hug, and when she sings about someone else’s you feel like you need the same hug right back just hearing about it. 

“Smoke and Ashes” is the former, where Tracy teams her world-class voice with a brilliantly played piano.  Bemoaning the loss of a callous man she’s right up there with Lucinda Williams, capturing the raw and rough truth of a love that only ever flowed one way.  With Lucinda you expect her to show up drunk at the lover’s house later and throw empties through the window.  With Tracy, you just get the impression that she will shoulder her backpack and head off down the road alone, her eyes downcast but shoulders up.  Oh – and she’ll write a song about what a complete dick you are as well.  “Smoke and Ashes” is a fine burn on that front, pun intended.

Chapman also continues her well-established tradition of a singer with a social conscience, tackling environmentalism, religion and systemic poverty with equal gusto.

I found that while every song on this front is heartfelt, some of the individual lines land with a bit of a thud.  Her environmental anthem “The Rape of the World” is musically beautiful, but in places seems to overstate its theme, and lose a little bit of resonance in the process.  Her humanist anthem, “Heaven’s Here on Earth” appealed strongly to my own sensibilities, but again while musically and vocally powerful, did not deliver at the same level lyrically.  Full marks for demanding the human race pay some attention to the here and now though.

She hits strongest with “Cold Feet,” which has “In the Ghetto” themes of a young man growing up with little hope, trying to do the right thing, but at every turn pressured by his empty pockets to do the wrong one.  ‘Cold feet’ recurs throughout, from inadequate shoes, to the willful pride not to let your peers down (not getting ‘cold feet’ for a robbery), through to the eventual cold feet of the grave when that robbery goes wrong.  It could have come off like a bad high school poetry assignment, but in Chapman’s expert hands it works beautifully.

Musically, the album is aptly titled, as Chapman mixes traditional blues and tribal rhythms in with her usual lyrical folk music.  The song “New Beginning” even features a didgeridoo successfully, which isn’t easy.  This bigger, more upbeat sound is most famously delivered on the record’s single release, “Give Me One Reason.”  This is a classic song about a woman who’s had enough of being ignored.  She doesn’t want to leave, but she’ll be damned if she’ll stay and be wallpaper.  A repeat of the warning to those who wrong Ms. Chapman – she’ll ensure posterity does not remember you kindly.

Before she closes out the album, she also gives us a pretty little song featuring just voice, background vocals and guitar telling the tale of a broken love, advising her audience that while they may have had their heart stolen, even the Tin Man “found he had what he thought he lacked.”  Here is the shoulders-up Chapman, inspiring you to buck up even as the song itself stays respectfully small and morose.  I also like that while the song is called “Remember the Tinman” the reference to the character comes only as a late payoff.  Some of the songs on “New Beginning” beat themes to death a little, and I prefer Chapman to let the idea creep up on you more naturally, as she does here.

Overall, this album isn’t at the same level of excellence of her first three albums, but it is very close.  It is a good record that I am resolved to play more often as a result of giving it a little time on the CD Odyssey.

Damn, this whole journey of musical discover was a good idea. 

Best tracks:  Smoke and Ashes, Cold Feet, At This Point In My Life, Give Me One Reason, Remember the Tinman

CD Odyssey Disc 435: Neil Young

I've just finished hosting the annual NFL football pool, with mixed results (missed out on a couple of QBs I was targeting in the middle rounds, but such is life).  I love writing, literature and all things artsy, and football is the yang to that yin.  It is an exquisite and carefully planned chess match of cunning and strategy, where each move ultimately ends in a violent high-speed collision of two large men.  Even with my cherished Dolphins about to endure another losing season, I’m still excited for the kick off.

Disc 435 is…Neil Young (Self-Titled)

Artist: Neil Young

Year of Release: 1969

What’s up with the Cover?  Sheila thinks this looks like Neil Young as painted by Emily Carr.  I agree, although I’ve never been a huge Carr fan, and so this cover unsurprisingly fails to impress.  I guess the city reflected in his clothes is a nice touch.  I try to do a bit of that myself when I'm in the country.

How I Came To Know It: I first heard this album at the Student Union Building at UVic in the late eighties.  The fry cook was playing the whole thing over the cafeteria loudspeakers.  I liked it and asked to see the cover.  but I wasn’t sufficiently motivated to buy it until probably ten years later.  Sometimes you just have to let an idea soak for a bit.

How It Stacks Up:  I have fifteen Neil Young albums, which isn’t even half of his catalogue.  Of the fifteen, his debut is nearer the bottom of the list.  I’ll say 14^th, right behind the recently reviewed “Tonight’sthe Night”.

Rating:  3 stars

I have a saying I’ve used many times over the years.  At least I think it’s my saying; if I’ve borrowed it from somewhere else inadvertently, then I apologize for the missed citation.  Anyway, the saying goes, “true beauty steals into only the quietest of souls.”  I usually use it when I hear idiots talking during a movie or a concert, or sometimes (more gently) to chide a meowing cat.

Maybe the saying applies to me this time, because having just given a solid three listens to the subtle and gentle beauty of Neil Young’s solo debut I have to stand and count myself among those who don’t fully get it.

I appreciate that it is beautiful.  You’d have to be dead inside to not hear the beauty in the opening instrumental track, “The Emperor of Wyoming.” With its soft Southern fiddle and ‘kick back in the tall grass’ guitar strumming, it’s custom built for a relaxing listen in a quiet moment.  Unfortunately, “Emperor” is over in under two and half minutes, and the album never captures the same understated grace again.

Neil comes close with “Here We Are in the Years,” which has a nice mix of piano and guitar, with pastoral lyrics featuring taking your dog for a long walk, and regretting that city folk don’t appreciate the slow pace of the country.  It is an intricate construction that carries a simple melody over a lot of changing, shifting instrumentation.  I don’t honestly know entirely what is going on, but all the changes of pace made it a bit hard for me to follow along.  It is a little easier listening now in the dark of the late evening, but on my walks to and from work in rush hour it had a hard time achieving any emotional resonance.

On other songs like “The Old Laughing Lady” I found myself wanting to tone it down a little bit, take out the jazz piano bits, and maybe slow it down a little bit, country style, but instead Neil goes a bit gospel, with some backup singers and a groovy beat and more of the piano bits I want so badly to take out.  Maddeningly, it is still a great song, but damn he makes it hard to worm your way inside of it.

Neil is an exceptional (and under-rated) guitar player, and on his solo debut he experiments with some strange guitar sounds, many of which are well ahead of what I would expect for early 1969.  Unfortunately, sometimes songs like “What Did You Do To My Life?” feel like their future home would be on schlocky AM radio.  It is a lot better than the AM radio I’m thinking of, but I can’t help that it evokes the memory of lesser songs when I hear it.

The love songs are suitably anthemic and “If I Could Have Her Tonight” and “I’ve Loved Her So Long” are both examples of how the golden age of free love can make even the most ham-fisted lyrics somehow come off believable.

As is common for early Neil Young records, this one ends with a long and rambling final track.  This record’s entry is “The Last Trip to Tulsa” which has a fine example of how you can make simple guitar strumming very dynamic simply by mixing up the vigour that you hit the chords a bit as you go.  The song has a lot of folksy wisdom (as well as a healthy helping of what sounds like psychedelic babble).  My favourite piece of both is:

“I used to be a folk singer

Keeping managers alive

When you saw me on a corner

And told me I was jive.”

This line brings home just how fine a work this record is, and yet how much I struggle to properly appreciate it.  Even when Neil spells it out for me, I still find myself wanting…less.  Not just on this final song (which could easily shed a couple of minutes) but on the record overall.

I liked this record, but I didn’t love it.  That said, I’ll keep listening to it in years to come, and try to remember to be somewhere very quiet when I do.

Best tracks:  The Emperor of Wyoming, The Old Laughing Lady, Here We Are In the Years