CD Odyssey Disc 1336: Rodney O and Joe Cooley

I’ve just returned from an out of town visit with my family. It’s a long drive and Sheila and I have a tradition of choosing four albums each for the drive. While my collection is always full of new music, for this trip we tend to go with comfort food or, at the very least, something our partner is going to be OK with. Here are the 8 albums that made the cut for 2020. I’ve reviewed six of these, as noted:

• Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit – The Nashville Sound (Disc 1050)
• Blue Oyster Cult – Setlist: The Very Best of Blue Oyster Cult Live (Disc 1333)
• Confidence Man – Confident Songs for Confident People (Disc 1310)
• Frank Turner – Love, Ire and Song (Disc 1253)
• Billy Idol – Billy Idol/Rebel Yell
• Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris – Western Wall: The Tucson Sessions (Disc 987)
• Xanadu Motion Picture Soundtrack
• Eric B. and Rakim – Paid in Full (Disc 473)

The first four are my selections, and with three of them reviewed in the last year, it demonstrates that recent reviews tend to stay in my head for a while. This is a good thing – now let’s go cram something else in there now!

Disc 1336 is…Greatest Hits

Artist: Rodney O & Joe Cooley

Year of Release: 2001 but featuring music from 1988 to 1999

What’s up with the Cover? Two cool dudes strike two cool poses. Assuming that’s Rodney O. on the left, he appears to be dressed for inclement weather. Joe Cooley has prepared for a warm, sunny day. When they eventually get out of the studio, one of these guys is going to have picked the wrong outfit – we just don’t know who yet.

Other than that, this cover looks like a photo that’s been run one too many times through a streaky photocopier.

How I Came to Know It: I think my old coworker Mike might have sent me a song by these guys, causing me to start digging into their back catalogue. Turns out finding their original albums on CD is difficult, so I finally broke down and bought this Greatest Hits package. The search for the individual records is continuing.

How It Stacks Up: This is a Greatest Hits album and by CD Odyssey common law, does not get stacked up.

Ratings: Greatest Hits albums also don’t get rated. They aren’t real albums.

Greatest Hits records end up in my collection for one of two reasons. The first is when I like an artist just enough to want their hits, but only their hits. Like how I feel about Kool & the Gang or the Thompson Twins. I like those bands but not enough to want all their records; not even enough to want a sampling of their best. Just well enough to have the hits.

The other reason I have greatest hits records is as a placeholder while I keep looking for the individual albums that I really want in my collection. Old school LA rappers Rodney O. & Joe Cooley are this latter variety, and so as I prepared for my first listen it was with a mild but nagging irritation that I’d had to settle. This irritation was made worse when I realized that classics like the title track from the 1990 record “Three the Hard Way” wasn’t even on the record. I remain irritated about these things, but I couldn’t remain irritated at Rodney O. & Joe Cooley; their music is just too much fun to stay angry.

Coming out of L.A. at the same time as N.W.A., Rodney and Joe have the same easy funky flow, but with a lot less edge and anger. I like both acts, but Rodney and Joe are a lot more upbeat. These guys make party music that’s good for driving, good for dancing, and, if you can keep up, good for singing along. That won’t be easy, because rapper Rodney O may have a flow that sounds effortless, but that’s only because his ability for dropping down into the pocket is so sneaky-good.

The album is heavily weighted toward their 1988 debut “Me and Joe” with 5 of the 12 tracks coming off of that record. That record benefits from the lack of sampling laws at the time, letting DJ Joe Cooley pull all kinds of sounds and song fragments into building his beats. There are a couple of times when the sample runs a little long, but you mostly forgive the excess because their songs end up being so funky.

The rhymes are not as intricate as you’d get from a contemporary master like Rakim, and Rodney doesn’t have the attention-grabbing fury of Ice Cube, but he holds his own and gives a nice flow. “U Don’t Hear Me Tho’” and “Get Ready to Roll” are both standouts and deserved more commercial love than they got back in the day (I didn’t buy it either, but in my defence I didn’t know any rap back then).

While it’s a greatest hits package and not a true record, whoever put the album together made good decisions on song order, shuffling the songs out of chronological order and giving it a nice flow of early and late tracks, and effectively hiding the excess reliance on their 1988 release. Rodney O. & Joe Cooley switched record labels on almost every release, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these choices were the result of copyright and licensing issues. If they were, at least they did well with what they had available.

Anyway, this record does not re-invent the rap genre, but it is a sold example of late eighties/early nineties golden age rap that drops some dope grooves and has fun doing it.

Best tracks: U Don’t Hear Me Tho’, Humps for the Boulevard, DJs and MCs, Get Ready to Roll, Cooley High, Why Must I Be Like That

CD Odyssey Disc 1335: Warren Zevon

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey! I was delayed an extra day on this review because I was enjoying the album so much, I decided to treat myself to an extra day.

Disc 1335 is… Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School

Artist: Warren Zevon

Year of Release: 1980

What’s up with the Cover? Zevon relaxes with a bunch of beautiful ballet dancers. This looks a lot more like good luck to me, although maybe moments after this photo was taken they pushed him over that railing.

How I Came to Know It: My friend Randall invigorated my love for Warren Zevon and I dug deep through his catalogue. “Bad Luck Streak…” was an early favourite, but it was hard to find and one of the last I located. I can’t remember where I found it, but I think it was at Amoeba Records in San Francisco.

How It Stacks Up: I have 10 Warren Zevon albums. Of those 10, I had saved spot #2 for this record, and while the race was close with his self-titled album (reviewed back at Disc 1161), “Bad Luck Streak…” still earns the silver medal by a hair.

Ratings: 4 stars

Warren Zevon’s career is full of underappreciated records, but “Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School” is one of the best in a treasure trove of forgotten brilliance.

The record came out after his one minor hit record (1978’s “Excitable Boy”, reviewed back at Disc 901). It did not have the same success, hitting a less-than-lofty #20 on the charts. It’s one charting single was “A Certain Girl,” coming in at #57, and it isn’t even one of the record’s stronger songs. Well, America – you got it wrong, but in ignoring this record you only punished yourselves.

“Bad Luck Streak…” is Zevon at his best. He writes seemingly effortless melodies that go exactly where you expect them to go, and leave leaving you wondering why nobody else walked them there before. He employs these talents to tell a myriad of stories, from lovelorn personal stories of loss, through to rock and roll westerns.

His music is pure-hearted rock and roll. It does not rely on distortion or false bravado, and while Zevon’s voice has a rich tone, it isn’t going to shatter any glassware. Instead, he just lays it out there, no fuss no muss and no studio trickery, except maybe the occasional flash of strings or pedal steel.

One of those lovelorn tracks, “Empty Handed Heart” starts with a simple unadorned piano. Through a a slow build the song tells the story of a man that’s been wounded by love in the past but is determined to find a way forward. Like a lot of Zevon songs it is sneaky in its construction, throwing in minor notes just in the right places and ending on an unresolved melody. The effect is to leave all that hope standing on feet of clay.

This is immediately followed by “Play It All Night Long,” a song with a martial drum roll and big, anthemic structure that is immediately undercut by the opening stanza:

“Grandpa pissed his pants again

He don’t give a damn

Brother Billy has both guns drawn

He ain’t been right since Vietnam.”

It is a song about the bravado of the broken, cranking their Lynyrd Skynyrd (literally referenced in the song) and getting way too drunk down at the local dive bar. Zevon fills these characters with defiance and gives them a triumphant march that makes you want to raise your fist, even as you know deep down how empty a gesture it is in that moment.

My favourite song on the album though is “Jeannie Needs a Shooter”, co-written by Bruce Springsteen (which just seems unfair, given the ease with which Zevon writes a song on his own). It is an old-west ballad in a rock style about a gunman who seeks the affection of a girl over the objections of her father, the sheriff. By the end, the father has taken his vengeance on the shooter, and as Jeannie rides away side-by-side with her father you realize Jeannie didn’t need a shooter – she had one all along. This song song also ends abruptly, letting you know that while Jeannie’s story is going to continue, the heroics of her erstwhile lover will be very soon forgotten.

On “Bill Lee” Zevon’s character sings “Sometimes I say things I shouldn’t” but the next line is just a bar of harmonica. It is left to us as listeners to fill those mournful notes with whatever things we’ve recently said that we wish we hadn’t.

There’s a little bit of funny, such as “Gorilla, You’re a Desperado” but even that song is tinged with regret. Here our hapless hero is replaced by a gorilla from the zoo, but he takes it philosophically:

“I wish the ape a lot of success

I’m sorry my apartment’s a mess

Most of all, I’m sorry if I made you blue

I’m betting the gorilla will too.”

Zevon is helped along by his usual surfeit of famous musicians. On this record he has the backing talents of Don Felder, Jackson Browne, Joe Walsh. Don Henley and Linda Ronstadt among others. Ronstadt made a whole lot of Zevon’s songs into hits, so it’s only right she lends her vocals on “Empty Handed Heart” to make it even more depressing.

I have a couple of very minor gripes about this record. The production is a bit dull, and I suspect it suffers from the transfer from record to CD (it is not remastered and was originally recorded in the golden age of vinyl). It also has a couple of short instrumentals called “Interlude 1” and “Interlude 2” that it could live without. Other than that, though, this record is a brilliant exploration of the human heart – sometimes broken, sometimes shot clean through, but always bleeding away on Zevon’s sleeve.

Best tracks: Empty-Handed Heart, Play It All Night Long, Jeannie Needs a Shooter, Gorilla You’re a Desperado, Bed of Coals

CD Odyssey Disc 1334: Joan Shelley

I feel like I’ve just had a weekend that was too fun and that went too fast. There are worse weekends to have.

Disc 1334 is… Like the River Loves the Sea

Artist: Joan Shelley

Year of Release: 2019

What’s up with the Cover? An idyllic view somewhere. My guess is that this is the sea, but it could just as easily be a large river, which makes sense given the album title.

How I Came to Know It: I’ve been a fan of Joan Shelley since her 2017 self-titled effort, so when this one came out I was excited to hear it.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Joan Shelley albums. They are all good, making competition tough, but I’ll put this one in at #2.

Ratings: 4 stars

I was disinclined to like this record, mostly because I thought the critics were fawning over it a bit too much. I’m contrary like that, which is fine when you’re trying to sniff out a snake-oil salesman, but not terribly valuable when exploring music. Fortunately, when I saw her album sitting on a shelf in a Portland record store, I forgot all the bullshit of my internal monologue and remembered how much I liked her.

Joan Shelley sings folk songs that float by you like morning mist, giving you the feeling of comfort and chill in the same moment. There are no rough edges here, but there is plenty of hard turns and steep cliffs. Shelley doesn’t jump off the latter, but she’s not afraid to take a long and solemn look down them either.

These are songs that tell their stories from the inside out, where everything is seen first from the core of the character Shelley sings from, encouraging you to slowly piece the outer world together from there, one image at a time.

To pull this off you need one hell of a voice, and Joan Shelley has that covered and then some. She’s no belter, and she’s not interested in crazy vocal runs either. She instead relies on a high sweet head-voice that is so pure it feels like she’s made of mist herself. There is something very traditional in her delivery, and I sometimes felt like I was staring into the Outer Hebrides listening to some Gaelic girl charm the see. However, at her heart she’s an Americana girl from Kentucky, and a bit of homespun country sway comes across in just the right measure.

I was so happy to just hear Shelley sing it took a bit longer than usual for me to start focusing on what she had to say. The music had enough emotional import on its own, with very simple production played with a slight echo that adds a soft-edged mystery.

Once I began paying closer attention the album became exponentially more appealing. A lot of these songs are about relationships, but these aren’t songs of high school romance. These are songs about complex relationships going right, going wrong, and sometimes just going straight to bed for a tumble. Shelley launches right in with well crafted lines from the very open, and lets the story unfurl from there. From the careless words we speak and then regret in “Teal”…

“Shock of teal blue

Beneath clouds gathering

And a line of emptied black

On the waves at the horizon

Like a glimpse into cold, dark space

Where I go when I’ve been short with you”

…to the worldly wisdom of “When What It Is” where a romantic offer is also an existential broadside, rocking speaker and listener alike:

“When what it is that makes you want me

No longer is what makes you cry

Then you can come and you can call me

Then you can take me to your side

“I’ve watched you fade and slip and falter

I’ve seen you bold, I’ve seen you weak

And I have wanted more than offered

I see the devil in my needs.”

For all this desolation and uncertainty, other parts of “Like the River…” can be both touching and sexy. “The Sway”, “Stay All Night” and “Tell Me Something” are all songs of seductive power, with Shelley inviting her lover to take charge and win her all over again. As she sings on “Tell Me Something”:

“So take me to the bed

Shake me to my knees

Where I can find a piece of you

You can have a piece of me.”

Whether she’s turning her lover on, or telling them off, Shelley is always raw and uncomfortably present in the moment. She sings hard truths, but her honey-pure vocals make it easy to hear and absorb.  

In the end, I was glad that this record took a while to sink in. It wasn’t until the third listen that it had me enspelled, at which point knew I’d be delaying this review just so I could give it a couple more listens. That might’ve delayed you hearing about it sooner, dear reader, but I hope you’ll indulge me these simple pleasures. You’re hear now, aren’t you?

Best tracks: Teal, When What It Is, The Fading, The Sway, Tell Me Something, Any Day Now

Concert Review: David Francey

Another break with tradition, as tonight I’m going to review a live show, but not a studio album (usually it’s the opposite). Francey’s last album was 2018, and while I own it, it is no longer “new to me”. I’ve decided to wait until I roll it, rather than pull it off the shelf because he came to town.

In any event, on January 15, Sheila and I braved the freezing cold weather to join our friend Casey and his two daughters for Canadian folk singer David Francey. Here’s how it looked:

Here’s how it went:

The Concert: January 15, 2020 at Hermann’s Jazz Club, Victoria

I hadn’t been in Hermann’s Jazz club in over twenty-five years, and I was excited to see the place again. As a young man I went there for a couple of years because I knew it was frequented by a woman I was interested in (maybe two, details are hazy) and because I had decided that I was going to damned well embrace jazz until I learned to like it.

Despite substantial effort, I never successfully wooed a woman there, and never learned to enjoy jazz either, but I still I have good memories of the place. It was great to return, the more so knowing I wouldn’t have to listen to any jazz. Hermann’s is a Victoria institution, with its low ceiling and brick walls and speakeasy feel, it is like a club out of a forgotten era. It is a wonderful place with a great vibe, and I’ve always felt welcome there.

That remained true. If anything, it felt more informal and relaxed than I remembered. When we arrived, the band was still doing a sound-check (likely delayed by the snowy weather) and it was fun to just watch them do their thing. Then they disappeared, and our attentive (but never intrusive) server brought us burgers, fries and chicken strips (the latter being a favourite of at least one of Casey’s kids).

The two-hour wait between the dinner reservation and the show went pretty fast, and before you knew it Francey was on stage, joined by a couple of guest musicians: fiddler Pierre Schryer and guitar player Adam Dobres; both well known in the local scene. Schryer was new to me, but I’ve known Adam Dobres dating all the way back to his early days with Outlaw Social (last reviewed back at Disc 754). I’ve always loved his guitar playing, and nothing’s changed.

On this night he and Schryer did an artful job of backing David Francey. Recognizing these were simple folk songs, Schryer played with no frills, while still providing a rich and honeyed tone that lets every note soak in. Dobres laid down gentle strums and pick-patterns that were subtle and beautiful. Neither ever interfered with Francey’s narrative tales, but instead provided an extra layer of emotion underneath. Combined, it was some of the most unselfish playing I’ve witnessed.

Francey was getting over a bout of bronchitis, and his voice was not 100%. He warned the audience at the beginning of this but promised to give us everything he had. He lived up to that promise, and while his voice cracked a couple of times, it held up remarkably well, and even improved through the night as he worked it up.

I’ve only known Francey’s music for a couple of years, but I’ve bought a ton of his records in that time. He’s not a radio star, and it was fun having no idea which songs of all the ones I knew were concert favourites. Turns out “Paperboy” and “Empty Train” were big and recognized hits based on the audience reaction.

I liked those songs fine, but frankly they were all good. Many were written many years ago, but Francey always sang them with a heartfelt approach that made you feel like he was performing them for the first time.

Francey’s a natural storyteller, and in front of every song but one, he talked about what had inspired him to write it. On that one song (“Torn Screen Door”) he talked about it after. He reminded me of Billy Bragg with his gift for the gab, and for making a relaxed connection with the audience. In one introduction, he even showed off his terrible dance moves. They are indeed terrible. Hilarious, but terrible.

A couple of times he talked the song out a bit too much, particularly when he would describe imagery that he later used in the song, but for the most part it felt unassuming and natural.

When he was singing, his rich Scottish brogue soaked over you. The sound was clear but never sharp, and it felt like you were sitting in someone’s living room.

The only negative part of the experience was some guy near me doing the thing I hate most at any show. He thought he knew the words to Francey's songs, but for the most part, he didn't. On songs he vaguely recognized (about a quarter of them) he'd sort of sing along too loud, but always slightly behind the beat as he "remembered" the lyrics just after Francey sang them. The worst part was the show had all kinds of opportunities for audience participation, with Francey encouraging us to help out with many a chorus. There was no reason to create a weird half-echo on the verses.

Anyway, it was a great show, and while only one of the three songs I was hoping to hear got played (“The Waking Hour”) the tracks that did make the cut were great. Francey did two sets and played almost twenty songs. The encore was only one song, which was disappointing, but only from the perspective of not wanting the show to end.

CD Odyssey Disc 1333: Blue Oyster Cult

It’s snowing right now, and I had to shovel the snow from in front of my building earlier tonight. I’m a bit out of shape, but it felt great just to get outside and do something physical. If I have to do it all week the novelty will fade quickly, but for one night it felt pretty good.

On with the music!

Disc 1333 is… Setlist: The Very Best of Blue Oyster Cult Live

Artist: Blue Oyster Cult

Year of Release: 2010 but featuring performances from 1974 - 1981

What’s up with the Cover? The glory days of Blue Oyster Cult when all five members were still in the band and Buck Dharma still had hair.

Using my incredibly keen eye for detail, I will surmise this is the band performing the instrumental “5 Guitars”.

How I Came to Know It: My friend Ross bought me this album as a gift. Thanks, Ross!

How It Stacks Up:  This is a compilation of live performances over eight years, so while it is cool, I won’t stack it up against other Blue Oyster Cult records.

Ratings: As long-time readers will know, “best of” records and compilations don’t get ratings here on the CD Odyssey.

Legacy Records decision to include Blue Oyster Cult in their live compilation series, Setlist, couldn’t have to come to me at a better time. I’ve soured a little on Blue Oyster Cult in concert in recent years, and this Setlist compilation was a timely reminder that these guys were once the kings of the live rock show.

This record is primarily a compilation from three of their iconic touring periods, each of which is represented by a live album that came out at the time: 1975’s “On Your Feet Or On Your Knees” (reviewed back at Disc 716); 1978’s “Some Enchanted Evening” (reviewed at Disc 391); and 1982’s “Extraterrestrial Live” (reviewed back at Disc 930).

If you saw Blue Oyster Cult on even one of these three tours, you have witnessed greatness. I didn’t get to see any of them. My brother saw the 1981/82 tour, but I was too young to accompany him to the big city at the time. It ate me up inside to hear his tales of a massive fire-breathing Godzilla and the revving of a motorcycle’s sword-pipe exhaust directly into the microphone until, like on “Cities on Flame” your ears melted. How I longed to have my ears melted back then but alas, it was not to be.

I did get to see them more recently, once in the early nineties and twice since. It was fun every time, but my only relic of their heyday is a second-hand “Black and Blue” tour shirt from a tour where they co-headlined with Black Sabbath. I know there’s some shame in having a tour shirt from a tour you didn’t attend, but damn it I’m keeping that one.

1975, 1978 and 1982 were great years for the band, and Setlist does an admirable job of pulling solid tracks from each tour. A lot of these are direct from my other live albums. It was nostalgic fun to hear them again, mixed together by someone who clearly had an ear for a true Blue Oyster Cult fan, and had somehow not had their ears melted off by a City on Flame or an on-stage Harley Davidson.

Three of the twelve tracks were new versions for me. There is a 1977 version of Godzilla from their “Some Enchanted Evening” tour. I’ve always thought the original live album version of this is the best BOC ever did, but the Setlist choice is a solid second choice and a welcome addition to my collection.

 However, the real treasures are two songs I had never heard live, “The Vigil” and “Flaming Telepaths”. “Flaming Telepaths” is one of my all-time favourite Blue Oyster Cult songs and this version (from 1981) is excellent. It loses a bit of the weirdness I love from the studio version, but it makes up for it with some rock crunch.

The real prize, however, is “The Vigil.” “The Vigil” is off of BOC’s 1979 album “Mirrors.” That record gets short shrift from fans because of its lighter production, but I’ve always loved it and felt it was underrated. It gets ignored on most setlists, with BOC pretty much sticking exclusively to “Dr. Music,” so I’ve longed to hear some of the other songs played live. Setlist made that dream come true, at least for “The Vigil”.

I was not disappointed, the live track has all the complicated glory of the original track, but with an extra minute of absolutely essential noodling. One extra minute of noodling on a track already six and a half minutes long is exactly the right amount of noodle I want in my live show.

My recent beef with Blue Oyster Cult has nothing to do with their performances. Yes, they are down to only two original members (Lanier has died, and the Bouchard brothers have moved on) but they bring in solid musicians who appreciate the music, and Buck Dharma and Eric Bloom both still own the stage. My issue is that they hardly ever change their setlist. I’m always getting pretty much the same 75 minutes of music, with small variations. For a serious fan, that gets annoying.

This Setlist record gave me every serious fan’s concert desire: a couple of deep cuts. Let the rubes have their reapers and Godzilla, but let them damn-well stand their in quiet confusion while we long-haired veterans keep our vigils and sing of flaming telepaths. We’ve earned a few minutes, and the band will be back to melting your ears in a more familiar way before you realize they were gone.

Best tracks: I like all of them, but the Vigil is particularly special as noted above

Goodbye and thank you, Neil Peart

If you’re here for the latest review, scroll down to see my thoughts on Ex Hex. However, before we get into that I must pause and reflect on the passing of Neil Peart, dead at 67 after a lengthy battle with brain cancer.

I have every one of Rush’ studio albums, and I have loved them for decades, but even so I’m a long way from being Rush’ biggest fan. The band inspires a loyalty among their fan base that puts any passion I could claim to shame.

For all that, Neil’s death feels like a punch to my stomach. He is the person who first taught me that a song could be accessed first through the drumming. His drumming was so brilliant it just stood out and demanded attention, even though he played alongside two other great musicians.

As for the lyrics, few lyricists have inspired me over my life like Neil Peart. A week rarely goes by that I do not find some element of wisdom or solace in his words. It was Neil who taught me that “Free Will” could be more than just a philosophy, it could be an anthem; a clarion call for the world I want to live in. In the same breath, Neil reminded me that “if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.”

It was Neil who best captured the simultaneous familiarity and disconnect that exists between performer and audience. Confessing “I can’t pretend a stranger is a long-awaited friend” was the most honest thing a rock star ever said to his audience. Neil was uncomfortable with the love of strangers, but on “Limelight” he proved he understood there was an alchemy to it that allowed him to accept that love on his terms. He told us we:

“Must put aside the alienation
Get on with the fascination
The real relation
The underlying theme.”

On a more personal level, Neil reminded me to respect people who might differ with you on how they see the world. On “Entre Nous” he writes:

“Just between us
I think it's time for us to recognize
The differences we sometimes feared to show
Just between us
I think it's time for us to realize
The spaces in between
Leave room
For you and I to grow”

It’s a great reminder that we’re not all the same, and that’s a good thing. And moreover, those differences don’t have to hold us apart, they’re opportunities to learn and grow.

Over the years, Neil Peart imparted a lot more wisdom to me. How to take time and appreciate the moment (“Time Stand Still”), how ordinary people can still be heroic (“Nobody’s Hero”), and how to unapologetically love American muscle in the age of the electric car (“Red Barchetta”).

Neil’s wise words and inspiring drum licks made the world a better place or, failing that, at least a little more relatable and understandable. There are millions of Rush fans all over the world, and today while for the most part we don’t know each other, we are united in an underlying theme of grief.

CD Odyssey Disc 1332: Ex Hex

Over the last couple of years I’ve fallen hard for all-women rock bands that pump out guitar rock that reminds me of late-seventies artists like Joan Jett. This next band is one of those.

Disc 1332 is… Rips

Artist: Ex Hex

Year of Release: 2014

What’s up with the Cover? This design kind of reminds me of a clubbing shirt from the late eighties. The kind of clubbing shirt I would not buy. Not that I wouldn’t buy a loud clubbing shirt – I’ve bought plenty – just that I wouldn’t buy this one.

How I Came to Know It: I got into Ex Hex through their 2019 album “It’s Real” and dug backward through their discography from there. They only had one other record, and “Rips” was it.

How It Stacks Up:  If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that I have two Ex Hex albums. It’s hard to say which one is better, but I’ll give the edge to “Rips” by a narrow margin.

Ratings: 4 stars

If the Ramones had dated the Shangri-Las the resulting love children would have been Mary Timony, Betsy Wright and Laura Harris.

Collectively, these three women make up Ex Hex, a straight ahead, balls-out rock band that write three-minute long riff-heavy tracks that combine the punk simplicity of the Ramones with the edgy leather-clad pop of the Shangri-Las. “Rips” lives up to its name, with punchy songs that start with thick driving guitar riffs, ride those riffs hard, and then wrap them up neat and move on to the next song, featuring more of the same. It is a lot of the same idea, but the idea is so bitchin’ you won’t want it any other way.

Mary Timony is the principal songwriter and driving force behind the band. The crunch and growl of her guitar is the star of the show, and her fuzzed out vocals are just the right match for that sound. The overall effect gives you a forward-leaning energy that makes you want to drive too fast and play air guitar at every traffic light. I listened to it on foot, but still felt pretty badass just walking around. Did my strum hand flip back and forth aggressively at red lights? Did my fret hand form chord shapes that I fancied I was hearing? You’re damn right they did.

While Timony is the main contributor, her band mates bring a lot to the experience. Drummer Laura Harris plays with a solid thump and a reliable, aggressive timing that is critical to music like this, which relies on the rhythm of the guitar over the wail. Bassist Betsy Wright is the glue that holds everything together and gives Timony’s guitar riffs that extra oomph at the lower end.

Wright also pens a couple of songs, including the excellent “Radio On” a song about a booty call gone wrong, where the next day the guy just drives by with his radio on and ignores you. The radio makes it bearable though because…rock and roll! “Radio On” is like a lot of the songs on “Rips”; they have something to say, but they also want to rock out. Dude’s not just dissing his friend-with-benefits with that drive-by, he’s also playing tunes.

Both of Ex Hex’s records are filled with chunky guitar rock, but “Rips” is by far the more no-frills of the two. While it won’t treat you to any innovative melodic structures, you can expect to hear timeless riffs played with grit and enthusiasm. This is music for finding a place on the dance floor and letting your hair fall in your eyes while you mosh until your neck is sore. For all that, it still manages a melodic sway that makes you think of sixties pop. It’s the marriage of the two concepts that make it all so delicious.

Ex Hex is part of an exciting rebirth of Camaro rock going on right now. Other bands embracing the sound include Tacocat, Thunderpussy and Bleached, all of which are worth your time and hard-earned dollars.

Best tracks: Don’t Wanna Lose, Beast, You Fell Apart, Waterfall, Hot and Cold, Radio On, War Paint

CD Odyssey Disc 1331: Lyle Lovett

I worked all day, then did some volunteer work and then spent a lovely evening with friends playing some board games. By all rights I should call it and hit the sack, but the damned CD Odyssey isn’t going to dock in Ithaca without me putting my back into the oars a little. So here we are, and let’s get to rowing.

Disc 1331 is… It’s Not Big It’s Large

Artist: Lyle Lovett and his Large Band

Year of Release: 2007

What’s up with the Cover? Lyle and his large band look out on what is either a splendid concert hall just before a rehearsal or a terrible one just before opening night.

How I Came to Know It: I have been a Lyle Lovett fan for a long time, so I just bought this album back in 2007 when it came out assuming it would be good.

How It Stacks Up:  I have 11 Lyle Lovett albums which, as far as I know, is all of them. Of those, “It’s Not Big It’s Large” comes in at #6. I really like it, but I’ve got a lot of good Lyle Lovett albums.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

When a country singer’s band starts approaching Glen Miller proportions, it should ordinarily give you pause, but Lyle Lovett is no ordinary country singer. His albums have long been a mix of country, soul, gospel, blues and jazz, so if anyone can incorporate a dozen or so extra musicians into the band and make it work, it’s him.

It can also end up an overblown mess if you don’t have the right talent but having seen Lovett live I can attest that he brings with him some of the finest musicians the industry can offer. They’re great live, and on “It’s Not Big It’s Large” they show they are equally capable in the studio.

With this many musicians getting the right producer is important as well, and Lovett’s long-time collaborator (not be confused as the former owner of the Millennium Falcon) Billy Williams is more than up to the task. There may be 15 or 16 musicians overall, and while Williams routinely employs half or more of them on every track, it never seems crowded. Everything comes in where it is needed, with grace, timing and generosity of spirit.

I didn’t even mind the very jazzy opening track “Tickle Toe” which comes dangerously close to a song designed for nothing more than excessive noodling. There’s definitely too much jazz in the odyssey on this song, but it somehow reigns things in and gets no crazier than ‘late night at the Speakeasy’ level. By which I mean, yes, it’s danceable, albeit only barely, and cheap gin probably helps.

At the other end of the spectrum, “Don’t Cry a Tear” is slow and simple, propelled by the somber and deliberate picking pattern on guitar, elevated around the edges by touches of cello, piano and fiddle. Lovett’s careworn vocals twine through the experience, breaking your heart even as they comfort you:

“Go if you must go

Turn if you must turn away

Don’t cry a tear for me.”

The record’s standout is somewhere in between, a mid-tempo ballad called “South Texas Girl.” It is a song of youthful memory, old country roads and simpler times, as it waltzes its way into your heart, longing for the undying love of a South Texas girl or failing that just the simple prayer of the chorus:

“Saint Mother Maria

Watch over us please

As we wander around

In this dangerous world.”

As much as I admire all the big band action of the record, I like it best on songs like this, where Lovett does less with more. Lots of instruments, and lots of voices, but each held back, restrained, and helping you rise up gently into Lyle’s stories.

The devotionals on the album are to be expected on a Lyle Lovett album, but I prefer them when they are intertwined in a story such as on “South Texas Girl”. Elsewhere, songs like “I Will Rise Up” and “Ain’t No More Cane” deliver with honest intentions but tend to drag a little on repeat listens.

“Make It Happy” appears to be about a playful spank on the bottom, where the cleverness is Lovett never confirms where the slap lands. It ends up being a half-measure that doesn’t work, even when you know the joke.

These are minor quibbles however, and overall this record was better than I remember it, and worth more of my attention in the years to come. There is plenty of great material, and some of the finest players you’ll find in country music, each deferring to the other to ensure the best overall experience possible.

Best tracks: Don’t Cry a Tear, South Texas Girl, This Traveling Around, The Alley Song

CD Odyssey Disc 1330: Gene Clark

My sincere apologies for my extended absence, gentle readers. The holidays descended upon me like a delightful fog and the New Year was quickly followed by a much less pleasant fog in the form of a cold.

However, I am now in full recovery from both effects and ready to face the tempests of January with whatever random music is thrown my way.

Disc 1330 is… No Other

Artist: Gene Clark

Year of Release: 1974

What’s up with the Cover? A collage of images reminiscent of the 1920s or 1930s. This cover gives me a mild headache. I wish it were…other.

How I Came to Know It: I read a review of it on Pitchfork.com, who revisited the record due to a fancy new bonus edition released by 4AD records. I went down to the store and was delighted to find the non-bonus edition on CD, both cheaper and not laden with a bunch of extra tracks and demos. I’m usually happy with the original album.

How It Stacks Up:  This is my only Gene Clark album. I dabbled in his collection but nothing else inspired me to continue the journey at this time. I guess you could say there is no other Gene Clark album to stack against “No Other”. I might give him another try though, before I decide for good.

Ratings: 5 stars

Even after 1,300 music reviews something will come along and remind me just how little I know about music. “No Other” is a classic record featuring Clark’s inimitable talent for finding the hidden wellspring where the rivers of folk, country and rock and roll meet. However, until I read the Pitchfork review, I had no idea who Gene Clark was.

This despite the fact that he was both guitarist and a key songwriter for the Byrds’ two most commercially successful albums. I even blissfully awarded a 5-star review to Tom Petty’s “Full Moon Fever” (see Disc 510) without even noticing that one of the songs – “I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better” – was written by Clark. Just two weeks ago I was lazing about listening to Marissa Nadler’s 2018 album “For My Crimes” which features a song that literally mentions his name (“I Can’t Listen to Gene Clark Anymore”). Still, no light bulb went on.

Fortunately, I do not suffer from the peculiar malady described by Ms. Nadler, and so was able to walk the apparently well-worn road of being inspired by Clark’s greatness.

The record’s overall sound is something mid-way between an afternoon at a hippy music festival and late-night dancing on a shag-carpet in the basement rumpus room of some house party. Maybe all in a single day if you stayed hydrated and paced yourself. In short, this record is everything that is right about 1974.

Within that general groovy vibe, Clark demonstrates considerable range. The opening track, “Life’s Greatest Fool” is a jangling country track with a jaunty sway and the trill of a hillbilly piano. It is immediately followed by “Silver Raven” an ominous and mysterious folk-rock song with haunting bass lines and a delightful forest of minor chords to lose yourself in.

The title track comes third, keeping the bass groove, but throwing in reverb rock guitar and letting you know it’s time for bourbon shots. Each of these songs is brilliant on its own, but Clark has gone one step further and presented them to you 1-2-3 in exactly the right order.

“Strength of Strings” is the first step backward, a song that sounds a bit too like a Neil Young song from the same era, but without the emotional punch. Fortunately, you are immediately led back to glory with the sorrowful beauty of “From a Silver Phial.” This song drips with poetic quatrains, my favourite being:

“She was fire on the borderline
The lion in the fall of roles
Said she saw the sword of sorrow sunken
In the sand of searching souls”

I don’t know exactly what the hell is going on here, but I know it is sad and beautiful. “From a Silver Phial” is a perfect song; the kind that needs a meandering track like “Strength of Strings” just so you can feel the majesty of all that emotion coming back into focus.

“No Other” is loaded with many more amazing tracks, but what pushes it into greatness is how cohesive it is as a single piece of art. There are many styles of music being pulled into this record, but every one fits seamlessly with the next.

The production is also a hidden star on the record. The album sounds a bit quiet at first, but everything is nice and even in the mix. Your ear is free to flit from instrument to instrument and be equally fulfilled wherever you land. The subtle and subdued approach also enhances Clark’s vocals, which are thin and frail by nature, but gain an emotional resonance by being given a little room to breathe.

It is the kind of warm mid-range focused production that was built for vinyl and I expect would sound best there. The album was recently remastered and released with a bunch of bonus tracks (hence the renewed promotion) and if I were to get this again, it would be on record. I haven’t got the space for that, but I’m damned tempted.

Gene Clark left the Byrds in 1966, after being part of creating their two most successful albums (“Turn! Turn! Turn!” and “Mr. Tambourine Man”). It makes me suspect Clark of being the Byrds’ equivalent of the Rolling Stones’ Mick Taylor; the relatively unsung heart and soul of the band. Of course, I have no idea. Hell, I just discovered this record by blind luck when someone else reviewed a re-released version. So much music, so little time. Thank god for ignorance, where even old music will always be new to someone. If this is new to you, do yourself a favour and go check it out.

Best tracks: All tracks, preferably listened to sequentially as the universe intended. If you don’t have time, just go with the first five: Life’s Greatest Fool, Silver Raven, No Other, Strength of Strings (not the best but prepares you for…) From a Silver Phial