CD Odyssey Disc 1971: The Bangles

What about the album before a band breaks big – can that album be good? In the case of this next band, the answer is yes.

But before we get there, as this is review #1971, here are three great records from the year 1971 for those interested in unrelated things that somehow seem related…

• The Who, “Who’s Next” (Disc 204)
• Led Zeppelin, “IV” (Disc 342)
• Alice Cooper, “Love It to Death” (Disc 604)

Disc 1971 is…All Over the Place

Artist: The Bangles

Year of Release: 1984

What’s up with the Cover? The band hangs out in what might charitably be called a “warehouse style apartment” and what might uncharitably be called simply a warehouse.

Whatever the case they’ve taken over, even having brought in what I presume to be one of those couches that lazy people leave on the side of the road.

Most such furniture just end up on a landfill, but this couch caught the attention of the Bangles. So too did a steel chair, which seems to have attracted the affection of singer and guitarist Susanna Hoffs, who is – literally - sitting pretty.

Particularly observant readers will note that, like Gaston, the Bangles use antlers in all of their decorating.

How I Came To Know It: I discovered the Bangles the way most of the world did, through their 1986 album “Different Light”. This was me digging backwards in their collection years later.

How It Stacks Up: I have two of the Bangles five albums. They are both solid and equal but different. However, this section is not designed for equivocators, so I’ll reluctantly take a stand and put “All Over the Place” in second place.

Ratings: 3 stars

Before they walked like an Egyptian, and before they lamented Mondays, the Bangles were an obscure American pop band trying to make it big. “All Over the Place” never hit top 40 in North America, but that’s more of an indictment of the fickle nature of hit making in pop music, than anything negative about the record. In fact, this record is sneaky good, and my only regret is that teenage me had to wait several decades to discover it.

A band’s first record can sometimes be disjointed as they explore just what ‘sound’ they are going to settle on. While it’s true that “All Over the Place” is a bit, well, all over the place, that’s part of its charm. The record blends eighties radio pop with New Wave and several earlier influences that felt like fifties and sixties pop somewhere between Buddy Holly and the Shangri-Las, with maybe a bit of late sixties psychedelia thrown in for good measure.

The New Wave element reveals itself in songs that jump the beat and infuse the record with a restless energy. Notable in this regard is “James,” which has a lively guitar lick and Hoffs’ vocals at their most playful.

While Hoffs is the person we think of as the Bangles lead singer, there are actually several talented singers in the band, and on their first record they each get their turn. Alongside Hoffs we have sisters Vicki (lead guitar) and Debbi (drums) Peterson taking their turns. Bands with even one strong vocalist aren’t easy to find, and the Bangles have three that can hold their own. This also allows a lot of great harmonies. The variety helps give the record range, although Hoffs vocals are the most distinctive and duskiest.

“Dover Beach” is Hoffs at her best, lilting her way through a late sixties inspired trip, accompanied by Vicki Peterson channeling her inner George Harrison on guitar. The influences on “All Over the Place” aren’t hard to place, but they are applied joyfully and with skill.

The band also has a unique ability to find just the right cover songs for their sound. On this record there are two, the best of which is “Going Down to Liverpool.” Is this version better than the Katrina &the Waves original? Reader it is not, but it is ever bit its equal, and that’s saying something.

The record is full of furiously played three-minute ditties, and is all over in just thirty minutes, well before it ever has a chance to settle down into itself. This is a positive, however, as that restless joyful energy is a big part of the Bangles’ allure. While there are places where the collection of songs lacks an overall focus at the “album” scale, that also kind of fits the overall vibe, making it easy to forgive.

Best tracks: Hero Takes a Fall, James, Dover Beach, Going Down to Liverpool

CD Odyssey Disc 1956: The Monks

I’m fresh off an eventful long weekend that had a little bit of everything. There was even a power failure through most of Labour Day Monday. Growing up I experienced many a power failure, often in the winter and lasting several days. Given this, a few hours without TV on a sunny holiday Monday was no problem at all. I just caught up on some reading and set some time aside for a full and undivided listen to this next record.

Disc 1956 is…Suspended Animation

Artist: The Monks

Year of Release: 1981

What’s up with the Cover? The Monks only have two albums and both feature covers with women dressed up as nuns and showing a lot of leg.

Here we have a 'nun' apparently awakening from cryo-sleep (the “suspended animation” alluded to in the album title). Looks like she’s arrived at her destination based on the space station in the porthole window. We don't know how many light years have passed in her journey across space but fear not: simple black pumps never go out of style.

How I Came To Know It: I like the Monks’ first record “Bad Habits” and through that discovered they’d done a second. However, “Suspended Animation” was devilishly hard to find, suffering from low album sales and – I suspect - a limited release.

Eventually I found it on a double album set with both records and a whole bunch of bonus material called, “No Shame: The Complete Recordings”. That compilation’s album art is just the band standing around looking like early eighties mods.

Choosing between that and the long-limbed space traveler depicted on the original was a no-brainer.

How It Stacks Up: I have two Monks albums, which is all of them. Of the two “Suspended Animation” is the lesser record, so #2.

Ratings: 2 stars

Listening to “Suspended Animation” had me thinking that the Monks were a bunch of slackers. Very talented slackers. Their follow up to their much better debut record, the Monks seem prepared to dabble in various musical ideas like a bunch of cheeky dilettantes. Sometimes it works, sometimes it don’t.

The style of the record is mostly a New Wave/post punk feel that was of its time back at the turn from the seventies to the eighties. A bit Joe Jackson, a bit the Clash at the poppier end of their range, but mostly just a bunch of experienced English musicians taking the piss.

Like the Clash, there is a reggae influence on the record in places, and the Monks also seem determined to try to land some funky bass lines and guitar licks. It would work better if the songs weren’t so uniformly at the front of the beat. That’s the New Wave in them, and they consistently refuse to sit down in the pocket.

So you get songs like “Don’t Want No Reds” that could have been a semi-serious song about Cold War angst but instead feels like a funhouse vision of looming nuclear winter. The haste of the beat makes you think that the reds they are avoiding could just as easily be pharmaceuticals as Communist agents.

From there they uncork a wide array of topics, most of which more than live up to the compilation’s title of “No Shame”. Scheming evangelicals, BDSM enthusiasts, and eating disorders are just a few of the themes you will encounter. There’s a good chance if you listen to this record something will offend you but I’m not going to predict what, as it is a target-rich environment.

This being a “complete recordings” situation the original record’s 12 tracks are ‘augmented’ by eight bonus tracks, pushing the playing time to an unwieldy and tiring 75 minutes. I’d like to say they should have just cut all that content, but the truth is some of it is pretty solid, notably “Cybernetic Sister” which has the easy groove blended with what I think is someone exhorting the virtues of a sex-bot.

Through it all, the Monks know how to write a catchy pop hook. I imagine they take a bit of perverse pride in combining sing-a-long quality to lyrics that would likely get you kicked out of the local karaoke bar.

The final two bonus tracks, “Space Noises” and “Electric Shivers” remove all doubt about who the Monks are mocking. It’s everyone, and with these two instrumentals of weird special effects sounds their final victim is, in fact, the listener.

Sitting confused at the end of the long listening journey, and with the echoes of weird computer trills and metallic clangs bouncing in my head, I was not quite sure what to think. It is the musical equivalent of a Jimmy Carr concert; the catchy phrasing draws you in, you laugh at some parts and wince at others, and the next day you can’t even talk about what you heard in mixed company.

Was it all just performance art in the end? Probably yes.

Best tracks: Don’t Want No Reds, Suspended Animation, King Dong and from the bonus tracks: Cybernetic Sister

CD Odyssey Disc 1939: Ozzy Osbourne

On my last review (Gang of Four) my friend Randall kindly reminded me that ten years prior when he’d introduced me to them and I said I didn’t like the sound. Well, I was wrong. In previous years I’ve been spectacularly wrong about such bands as the Police, U2, and Gods know what else.

This next artist is another example of something I had made up my mind to not like only to discover I was…er…mistaken.

Disc 1939 is… …Bark at the Moon

Artist: Ozzy Osbourne

Year of Release: 1983

What’s up with the Cover? Is Ozzy infected with lycanthrope here, or is it a werewolf who is infected by Ozzy?

Based on the hair, I’m going to go with the latter.

How I Came To Know It: I first heard this record when my brother bought it new. Back then, I didn’t love it. Frankly, I was a bit hung up on Dio at the time, and in 1983 it felt like when it came to Ozzy vs. Dio, you had to pick one, and I had picked Dio.

Fast forward several decades to an older and wiser me who has come to realize the whole Ozzy/Dio thing is a false dichotomy. You can enjoy both! Even so, I wouldn’t have gone there except my buddy Ross was parting with his CDs and I picked up a couple Ozzy records.

Neither one was “Bark at the Moon” but collectively they got me hooked, and before you knew it I was down in the record store buying this album.

How It Stacks Up: I have four Ozzy albums. Of those four, “Bark at the Moon” comes in at #4. Hey, something has to be last.

Ratings: 3 stars

It was admittedly weird to have a 40+ year gap between first hearing a record and then giving it a second chance. I had to overcome a lot of hard-wired bias to get there, but I’m glad I did. “Bark at the Moon” is a worthy entry in the early eighties pantheon of metal.

“Bark at the Moon” is Ozzy’s first record without Randy Rhoads. For me, overall it is a step down in quality in terms of songwriting, but Ozzy is still Ozzy and new guitarist Jake E. Lee is excellent. There is plenty of great content here, and while I’m going to note some of the warts, they aren’t so unsightly as to wreck the record.

Things launch with a bang, with the title track providing that insistent forward lean guitar riff that was a signature of Ozzy’s early solo career. It isn’t quite speed metal, but future speed metal bands were no doubt clutching their copies of the album and imagining a faster future.

Also, werewolves are cool. Not vampire cool, but pretty damned cool all the same.

Later eighties metal tended to lose low end power in the production, but this is the golden age of guitar crunch. It still soars, but the whole record has some great bottom end thump. A couple of times I paused the album because I thought something was wrong with my car. Nope – just the shake, rattle and roll generated from heavy metal in its early heyday.

Being a recent convert, I’m not an Ozzy aficionado when it comes to Randy Rhoads – I know I love him when I hear him – but Lee is no slouch, and drops some fine solo work on this record, fast and technical without sounding mechanical.

Ozzy’s signature voice makes everything sound interesting. He has a voice that can deliver hard edged attitude, but with a soulful hurt around the edges. He sounds like a veteran of the psychic wars, weary but filled with interdimensional wisdom. Ozzy has seen some shit, and he pours that openhearted angst into every song, fast or slow.

Songs like “Rock ‘N’ Roll Rebel” feel a lot like Saxon and borrow from that “party with the outcasts” kind of fist pumping anti-establishment chant style. No one does it quite like Saxon, but Ozzy’s foray into the style are solid and took me back to my own days of denim-clad iconoclasm.

On “Centre of Eternity”, Ozzy starts with some Gregorian chanting, church bells and organs. It is absolutely in the metal vibe, and the chugging guitar riffs that take over a few bars in make complete thematic sense. This is another frenetically paced tune, with Ozzy giving you a guided tour of the vast spaces of the universe…or just inside his own mind. Probably both.

“So Tired” is the album’s second single; a power ballad that plods in places (the guitar solo on this one was just OK) but Ozzy’s vocals are so pure and emotive that you’re drawn in and forgive a song that otherwise could’ve had a “Muppet Show” vibe.

The lyrics on the record are great when it is Ozzy riffing in his own head about the nature of the universe, but at other times they can tend toward worn cliché. Case in point, “Slow Down” which features the line “Slow down your haste is making waste”. Yech. Cringe. The song is a bit of an earworm but that doesn’t make it the strongest entry.

This record has two bonus tracks that were originally single B-Sides, “Spiders” and “One Up the “B” Side”. “One Up the “B” Side” is a hilarious decision to make the track on the B side about…tracks on the B side. Cool.

“Spiders” was hokey and forced and reminded me of the other early bias I had against Ozzy as a teenager: that he was the poor man’s Alice Cooper. Back then (as now) I was a huge Alice Cooper fan and felt like Ozzy was stealing part of that spotlight.

Like with Gang of Four, and Ozzy himself, I now realize that is silly. Ozzy brought his own style to topics of horror and suspense and did a fine job of it. Maybe not on “Spiders” but on “Bark at the Moon” and many more for sure.

I’m glad I gave this record a second chance and look forward to my continuing re-education on the second phase of Ozzy’s brilliant career.

Best tracks: Bark at the Moon, You’re No Different, Centre of Eternity One Up the B Side

CD Odyssey Disc 1933: Molly Hatchet

To all the folks who heard me this playing this in my car with the convertible roof down a little loud this week – I’m sorry. I genuinely thought volume would help.

Disc 1933 is…The Deed Is Done

Artist: Molly Hatchet

Year of Release: 1984

What’s up with the Cover? Molly Hatchet loves a good fantasy cover and here we have another winner.

A Death Dealer adjacent character (some dude in black plate mail with an axe) standing in a volcanic region looking tough. He appears to have a pet vulture, but it could just be this bird and the two in the sky behind him are like remoras following a shark. This guy probably kills a lot of folks and following him around would provide plenty of carrion to eat.

It is painted by Ezra Tucker, not Frank Frazetta as the cognitive dissonance in my lazy brain patterns wanted to believe.

How I Came To Know It: I have been a fan of Molly Hatchet since I was a kid, and I vaguely remember seeing this one back in the day, although I never owned it. I recently found this copy in the used section of the local record store at a good price and figured what the hell. It’s Molly Hatchet – how bad could it be?

How It Stacks Up: I have six Molly Hatchet records (their first six). Of those, “The Deed is Done” comes in at #6.

Ratings: 1 star

Sometimes a record sounds like it was made by someone with an old soul, and sometimes a record sounds like it was just made by someone who’s tired. The latter is “The Deed is Done”, which confirmed for me that when I bought my fifth Molly Hatchet record the deed was done, and I should have stopped.

I am usually a sucker for Molly Hatchet’s brand of metal-adjacent swamp-blues boogie. I have lots of it and it is mostly good. Sadly, “The Deed is Done” is a hollowed out soulless version of those earlier efforts.

The worst part is it starts promising. The record’s second song, “Backstabber” rides the ridge of pop anthem and crunchy guitar riff. It’s a dangerous ridge, and the production is steeped in the mistakes of the middle of the 1980s, but I was willing to overlook it and join in with the crowd and clap along – in time or slightly behind the beat depending on how late in the set in the evening it comes on.

However, no other songs were able to overcome the poor decisions made on this record. The opener, “Satisfied Man” should have warned me off, with its rent-a-song lack of originality and “ooh ooh” chants in place of lyrics (also featured on “Backstabber” – but done better). The guitar work is still grimy and good – a staple of Molly Hatchet records – but even that can’t overcome the sheer obviousness of the song’s construction.

At this point, dear reader, I was still feeling charitable and perfectly willing to give out two stars and a kind-hearted ribbing. I do this often – as recently as my last review in fact.

But then “She Does She Does” came along. Another uninspired entry, I was already fidgeting uncomfortably when, two minutes in, the first saxophone solo hit me. If there is a kind of music less suited to this kind of eighties saxophone noodle than Molly Hatchet, I can’t think of what it is. That sax bit is answered by a guitar solo that sounds like someone practicing scales. Almost like the guitars were finally giving up in the face of all the bad decisions.

At 4:30 in, the song was still happening to me when the second saxophone solo hit. Worse and less focused than the last, it goes on for almost two full minutes before ending in the biggest songwriting cop-out available: the fade-out. “She Does She Does” is a song that should never have been born and doesn’t even have the decency to know how to die.

From here I wasn’t feeling too charitable, and it was going to be a long uphill climb back to respectability for the remaining eight tracks. Much love to Molly Hatchet, but they did not pull it off.

Molly Hatchet has always been a sort of throwback band, and bringing their seventies rock vibe into the eighties is a challenge they’ve ably and capably accomplished. Here, they just sounded like a tired bar band, out of touch and spent, but still getting gigs on a Wednesday night.

There were moments where the opportunity was there. “Good Smoke and Whiskey” is a song that is set up to be a good time from the title alone. But nope – we get another tired song, in this case a narrator complaining that he’s losing his car and colour t.v. in the divorce settlement. The kind of guy you’ll meet in one of those seedy bars noted above, who’ll tell you all about it if you make the mistake of returning his smile while ordering a drink.

Each time the guitars chimed in my heart awoke, hoping they’d recapture their former glory, but it would all descend into a sort of Rick Springfield-adjacent radio anthem drowning out all the tough hard-scrabble charm the band is known for.

I have defended Molly Hatchet against all comers for the better part of four decades. I will still defend them overall, but should my debating opponent bring up “The Deed is Done” I will concede the point: this is a bad record.

Best tracks: Backstabber

CD Odyssey Disc 1905: Billy Bragg

This next artist is more folk/rock than indie folk and so our streak of alternating folk/metal records comes to an end at seven.

How do we know it is rock and roll? The guitar, mate!

Disc 1905 is… Brewing Up with Billy Bragg

Artist: Billy Bragg

Year of Release: 1984

What’s up with the Cover? Industrial town spewing some on one panel, and dude looking out a window thinking deep thoughts on the other. That sums up Billy Bragg about as well as a cover could.

Have you ever sat at a window looking out at a factory spewing smoke and had deep thoughts? Reader, I have. Those deep thoughts took me on a most unexpected journey.

But this is not about my story, it’s about Billy Bragg’s stories, so let’s stop all this wistful digression and return to the main plot.

How I Came To Know It: I first heard this record one night at my friend Nick’s house when he played his vinyl original. I loved it, but it took a few years before I got around to buying it. Then, I did. My copy is a re-issue with a bonus disc of extra music, but more on that later.

How It Stacks Up: I have nine Billy Bragg albums. Competition at the top is fierce and finds “Brewing Up” locked in a dead heat with “Tooth & Nail” for the third spot. They are very different from each other, making comparisons tricky, but despite my iconoclastic leanings to give the win to the underdog, I will place “Brewing Up” where it belongs, in third.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Brewing Up” introduces itself to the listener with a barrage of brassy guitar that reverberates with a power that makes your bones shiver. It lets you know this is not a record inclined to say “how do you do?” so much as to shout “hey!”. It’s a greeting, but also a call to sit up and pay attention.

This is early Billy Bragg at his best, his busker guitar skills – honed to cut through traffic noise and conversation – translated to the recording studio, creating a sound that is loud at any volume. Turn it down all you want – it will make itself heard.

This is the punk undercurrent to Bragg, and his playing and singing style (also bold and rich) adds extra angst and emotion to every word he utters. It provides a visceral quality to everything, but with folk overtones that express themselves in melodic decisions that you won’t find in punk rock. The crossover is a natural fit, each influence enriching the other, and sounds just as fresh 40+ years later.

There is also an old school Chuck Berry feel in places, notably in the guitar riff that launches “From a Vauxhall Velox” which clarifies that this, despite all counter influences and flourishes, is a record celebrating rock and roll. The song benefits from having very little going on other than guitar. Yeah, there’s a bass down there in places, but this is mostly just Bragg giv’n ‘er. You will air guitar along with it because if you don’t want to air guitar along to this song, you should pawn that thing. (n.b. – you will likely not get much from the pawnbroker for an air guitar. I’ve tried it and it never goes well…).

Like the approach to his guitar, Bragg presents stories that are unabashed, raw, and direct. The style lends itself equally well to protest and heartbreak, and he goes deep in both directions.

The record begins with “It Says Here” an attack on newspaper bias, and an invitation to read your morning news with a critical eye. Bragg invites you to pay attention, see that bias, and draw conclusions as you will. He draws a few himself, but this is a music review, not a critique of newspaper bias, so let’s move on to…heartbreak!

My favourite of these on “Brewing Up…” is “The Saturday Boy” a heartbreaking tale of the romantic and strangely noble fools we make of ourselves pursuing unrequited love. I’ve done it a few times, and on “The Saturday Boy” Bragg captures the experience of the early and awkward lessons we learn in these moments in a way that takes you right back to being 15 again. Best line:

“She danced with me and I still hold that memory soft and sweet
And I stare up at her window as I walk down her street
But I never made the first team, I just made the first team laugh
And she never came to the phone, she was always in the bath”

Having once literally been told on the phone by a mom that the girl of my affections was washing her hair, I can relate. If you can’t, well, you’re in very rare company and probably ridiculously handsome. Congrats!

“Brewing Up…” is a classic in the folk/rock/punk genre that Bragg helped to create and a must-have if you like his work.

Bonus Disc:

A quick note on my copy of this album, which is a re-issue that includes a bonus disc of additional material which is a delight, partly because of the range of material (including the best version of “Which Side Are You On?” in my collection), but mostly because the label wisely puts all these tracks on a separate disc. This means I can choose to listen – or not listen – without wrecking the original structure of the album. Kudos!

Best tracks: It Says Here, Love Gets Dangerous, From a Vauxhall Velox, The Saturday Boy, Like Soldiers Do

From the Bonus Disc: Talking Wag Club Blues, Which Side Are You On?

CD Odyssey Disc 1886: Ted Hawkins

For the second straight review we get an album released in 1982. How can this happen, you ask? In the case of the CD Odyssey…randomly.

Disc 1886 is… Watch Your Step

Artist: Ted Hawkins

Year of Release: 1982

What’s up with the Cover? Ted poses outside of what looks like a prison complex. Possibly this is inside such a complex, as Hawkins was in state custody when this record came out.

How I Came To Know It: One of my musically inclined buddies brought this to my attention one night while we were all listening to music. I wrote it down but forgot I had done so for about a year (I am still getting used to using Notes on my phone instead of scraps of paper).

A year later, I found the note, but not only could I not remember who of the half dozen folks who were over that night had brought it around, neither could they.  Whoever it was, thanks. Shortly after rediscovering my notes, I went out and bought this record at the local record store.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Ted Hawkins album so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 4 stars

Ted Hawkins is not afraid to walk dark paths, whether they are dodgy late night back alleys, or the even darker paths of the human heart. His music frequently features stark topics, that is filled with a warmth that invites you in to share the comfort of human companionship amidst the devastation.

Hawkins’ style defies genres, sitting somewhere at the nexus of soul, blues and folk. Most songs are accompanied by basic guitar strumming that is played in time and with feeling, but that won’t amaze you with technical skill.

His voice is similarly unadorned, with a natural weariness to it that sounds like Otis Redding if Otis was tired and maybe a little hungry. It’s a bit pale and wan, but don’t let that fool you into thinking that Hawkins isn’t compelling. His high and airy quaver instantly draws you in and sits you down at the kitchen table of his soul.

Like any good kitchen table, Hawkins’ songs can fill you up when you’re empty, but they can also be the place where hard topics are explored and challenged late into the evening. It’s the place where every gathering begins and ends, and where the most down-to-earth honest conversations occur. That’s a Ted Hawkins song.

The record’s title track is a fine example of hard conversations, as a not terribly sensitive man warns his wayward woman to “watch her step”. If that sounds like it’s laden with uncomfortable threats, you’d be right. The way Hawkins navigates the space between a man’s jealous rage, helpless love and ill-placed bravado isn’t heroic, but it does create a compelling character study. The song has a restless energy that approaches frantic, leaving the listener to feel the narrator’s quickening desire, but also the discomfort of rising emotion that could turn despondent or violent on a dime.

“The Lost Ones” is a song of young children suffering in abject poverty, with one parent sick and the other absent or dead. Hawkins’ high plaintive tone is the perfect vehicle for the anguish of kids without hope. The song expands the failure of the individual family into a general comment about the breakdown of social order all around them:

“I'd call the neighbors but I don't even know their names
They've lived there ten years, oh, ain't that a shame?
Don't think they'd help us even if I asked them to
We are the lost ones seeking help from you”

In this moment we mentally pan out from the plight of the children to the greater environment. I’ve known some bad neighbourhoods, but never one so bad you couldn’t go next door to get some help when you really needed it.

My favourite song on the record is “Sorry You’re Sick”. You realize early on that this isn’t the kind of sick you can ward off with a flu shot. It’s next level sickness, maybe alcohol withdrawal, or more likely something stronger still.

Here, our narrator is out to help his girl who is dope sick with withdrawal. The song’s beat is jaunty and upbeat, but you get the quick impression that the cure proposed (something from the liquor store) is more of a stop-gap for a deeper need. “Sorry You’re Sick” is vintage Hawkins, romantic and tragic in equal measure. It also features the finest vocal performance on the record, showing off a high near-falsetto that ably captures the keening of a soul in need of feeding a bad habit.

It's a testament to Hawkins’ talent as both a singer and a songwriter that he can explore so many bad choices and still sound hopeful and romantic. He’s broken in a dozen places, but there’s light shining out of the cracks that leaves us all a little sadder and wiser.

Best tracks: Bring it Home Daddy, If You Love Me, Don’t Lose Your Cool, The Lost Ones, Sorry You’re Sick, Watch Your Step (band version), I Gave Up All I Had

CD Odyssey Disc 1885: Triumph

Welcome back. This week features the triumphant return of a band from my youth. Triumphant – get it? Get it? Man, I crack myself up…

Disc 1885 is… Never Surrender

Artist: Triumph

Year of Release: 1982

What’s up with the Cover? Triumph’s signature logo, if it were a helmet crest. Based on the notches under his left eye, this soldier’s had some close calls while in the business of ‘never surrendering’.

Or maybe he just takes very poor care of his helmet, and it’s gotten dinged up through neglect.

How I Came To Know It: I knew Triumph fairly well as a kid, although my limited purchasing power meant I had to rely on whichever records my brother bought at the time. In 2022 my love for the band was rekindled after watching an excellent documentary about them.

How It Stacks Up: Triumph has released ten studio albums and while the super fans depicted in the documentary likely have them all, I am just a “regular” fan and own four, with no current plans for expansion.

Of those four, one had to be last and “Never Surrender” is that album. Don’t feel bad for it, though; if you’re following along closely, you’ll know that this places it fourth out of 10. You just won’t be reading about numbers 5 – 10 here.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

Early eighties hard rock was its own beast. Stadium shows were the gold standard and to get there bands had to be bigger and more grandiose in their approach to music to fit the intended venues. By 1982, Triumph was a fairly big deal (at least in Canada) and “Never Surrender” feels like a record recorded with the ability to recreate its majesty on very big live stages. This generates some generic bombast, but also a few gems.

As always, the secret weapon that elevates Triumph is their exceptional musicianship, most notably co-lead singer and guitarist Rik Emmett. The record’s two best songs (“A World of Fantasy” and “Never Surrender”) are both sung by Emmett. Emmett’s vocals are very high and anthemic, which was a common sound at the time, but few can elevate to the kind of power he hits, even when singing at the very top of his head voice. Nary a whisper in there as he belts out notes sure to set the crystal in your house ringing.

“A World of Fantasy” is the kind of song that would have appealed to me very differently as a lad compared to now. Back then I was very into fantasy games and books, and lines like…

“You were drawin' me in to your spider's web
With your hungry eyes
I was under your power, I was in your spell
I was hypnotized”

…would have had me thinking of the last session of D&D I’d played and then carefully hid from my school mates (unlike now, back in the day playing those kind of games was social kryptonite and not talked about the next day outside of hushed whispers).

As an adult I now realize the song is about sex, which is also pretty great, and detracts from the song’s enjoyment not a whit.

The album’s title track is the reason this record will never leave the collection. “Never Surrender” is one of rock and roll’s great anthems. As a kid I found it empowering, and a reminder that no matter what life throws at you, you’ll feel better standing in the gales of fortune, and holding fast.

As an adult, nothing about this song has changed, and it is still great advice.

Rik Emmett is equally gifted on the guitar. Classically trained, he once again converts his exceptional skills on the axe into a rock and roll juggernaut. Songs like “Never Surrender” showcase tasty licks, power chords, groove and crunch all in just the right mix.

Every Triumph album features Emmett getting his classical skills on with short instrumentals as well, and on this record we have the pastoral “A Minor Prelude” and the atmospheric “Epilogue (Resolution)”. The latter is one of my favourite songs on the album if for no other reason than the tone Emmett evokes from his instrument. It lifts and melts you at the same time, letting you know the record is over in the same way a fine glass of port lets your palate know dinner is over.

My only quibble about the record is that there is a lot of “the same” going on. There aren’t bad songs per se, but there are more than a couple that are just “oh yeah, stadium rock” without distinguishing features that call your attention. The driving rock guitar on these tracks is fun, but sometimes it can have a “bar band makes it big” feeling. Fortunately, even on the more boring tracks, Emmett wisely throws in a “holy shit!” solo or two to remind you that even when they’re giving the people what they want, Triumph can take it to another level.

Before I depart, a kind word for the band’s other vocalist, drummer Gil Moore. While Gil doesn’t have the anthemic power of Emmett, he is a bit more bluesy in his approach – the Rob Halford to Emmett’s Bruce Dickinson. Moore also has some pretty impressive chops and is solid on the drums as well. His work on “Battle Cry” is him at his best.

Overall, this is a good record that is just shy of being great that over forty years later continues to remind me to never surrender. Thanks, lads.

Best tracks: A World of Fantasy, Battle Cry, Never Surrender, Epilogue (Resolution)

CD Odyssey Disc 1883: Blue Oyster Cult

With my car in the shop, this week will feature much longer music listening opportunities courtesy of…the bus! Here’s the first offering courtesy of my triumphant (?) return to public transit.

Disc 1883 is… Ghost Stories

Artist: Blue Oyster Cult

Year of Release: 2024 (original recordings from 1978 – 1983)

What’s up with the Cover? A ritualistic BOC logo inscribed on the floor, framed by four candles, has summoned three ghosts. I like to think they are the ghosts of Allen Lanier, Joe Bouchard and Albert Bouchard for reasons that I will reveal later.

Whoever they are, it is a good thing ghosts don’t get tired of standing, because there’s just the one chair.

How I Came To Know It: Blue Oyster Cult is my favourite band, and I’ve known them all my life. Of course I was going to check out their latest record.

How It Stacks Up: I have 12 of Blue Oyster Cult’s studio albums. Of the twelve, Ghost Stories comes in at…#11. Since this is my first BOC review in four years, and is also the final studio album awaiting review, here’s a full accounting:

1. Secret Treaties: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 866)
2. Fire of Unknown Origin: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 751)
3. Spectres.: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 514)
4. Self-Titled: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1505)
5. Agents of Fortune: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 463)
6. Cultosaurus Erectus: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 206)
7. Tyranny and Mutation: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1273)
8. Mirrors: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 685)
9. Imaginos: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 838)
10. The Revolution by Night: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 1159)
11. Ghost Stories: 3 stars (reviewed right here)
12. Club Ninja: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 780)

If you want to read more Blue Oyster Cult reviews (who wouldn’t) all the records above and also four live albums can be found here.

Ratings: 3 stars

I’ve loved Blue Oyster Cult since I was a star-eyed child searching for their hidden symbol in every album cover.

It is this abiding love that has made most of their recent studio albums such a letdown. From 1998 to 2020, BOC released only three albums and I liked exactly none of them. Having never experienced this before (just check out the fanboy ratings of the records above) my reaction went from an initial no-this-cannot-be! horror that morphed over the years into a despondent resignation as the final notes ended on 2020’s disappointing “The Symbol Remains”.

Was there never to be another worthy studio album from my childhood heroes? Well, cancel the pity party, because “Ghost Stories” announces the boys (all five of them) as back. After twenty plus years of waiting, we’ve got a keeper.

The record has an unfair advantage, in that it is actually a collection of studio recordings made from 1978 to 1983, remixed in 2024 and dubbed “the final studio album” upon its release.

This era of BOC music features two critically lauded classic records (1980’s “Cultasaurus Erectus” and “1981’s Fire of Unknown Origin”) which are bookended by two records of lesser acclaim (“Mirrors” (1979) and “The Revolution by Night” (1983). I happen to love them all.

Stylistically, “Ghost Stories” feels like it spans these records yet belongs to none of them. Every tune is a facet of Blue Oyster Cult, making the whole feel more like a collection of singles and B-sides. Despite this, there is a weird cohesion on multiple listens, akin to an ‘island of lost toys’ kind of vibe.

Blue Oyster Cult has always been blessed with the ability to try on a lot of different aspects of rock and roll. They prog out, they do stadium, they do doo wop and barroom blues. It’s all here on “Ghost Stories”.

The band was always blessed by multiple songwriters and singers, all contributing to something greater. What’s missing on those later studio records I couldn’t tolerate is the absence of key contributors like Joe and Albert Bouchard and (as of 2020) Allen Lanier. On “Ghost Stories” they are reunited with lifelong members Eric Bloom and Buck Dharma and the alchemy of the five of them sharing space and ideas returns from beyond the grave.

The opening track is “Late Night Street Fight”. It’s a Bloom/Joe Bouchard collaboration that ends up sounding like something off a late seventies Alice Cooper record. It’s not my favourite, but I love the way the band embraces that lascivious acid inspired sound all the same.

This is followed by Buck Dharma sixties crooner inspired “Cherry” which is pop schmaltz, with just the right amount of strange added. It’s a song about a girl, but somehow the band explores the dawn of creation at the same time. BOC is here to challenge you, even when wearing the skinsuits of sixties teen idols.

The third song is “So Supernatural” an atmospheric number from Joe Bouchard that sways its way into a room like a curtain blown by an unseen wind.

Rounding out the songwriter round, we have “Soul Jive” cowritten by Albert Bouchard and Patti Smith (a collaborator with the band at this time, as well as lover of Allen Lanier). This one has a mix of barroom guitar groove and a sublime bit of guitar work from Buck Dharma. Lanier adds some tasty touches of organ. All these sounds shouldn’t work together, but they do, and that’s the fearless magic of Blue Oyster Cult.

“Ghost Stories” also features the studio versions of “Kick Out the Jams” (MC5 cover) and “We Gotta Get Outta This Place” (Animals cover), both of which appear live on 1978’s “Some Enchanted Evening.” I prefer those live versions, but the studio versions are no joke.

Despite my fawning, the record is not perfect. There are moments where it felt like the band was trying too hard to play empty stadium rock anthems, and while they are OK, you can see why they didn’t make the cut on the albums at the time. The production feels a bit too clean in places as well, which I blame on the band’s decision to use AI to help master the original tapes.

That’s the only blame in me, though, and most of all I am thankful the band dusted off these old gems, polished them up, and reminded us one more time what this band was capable of when firing on all cylinders.

Best tracks: Cherry, So Supernatural, We Gotta Get Outta This Place, The Only Thing, Kick Out the Jams

CD Odyssey Disc 1863: Rick James

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

Disc 1863 is…Street Songs

Artist: Rick James

Year of Release: 1981

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

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

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

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

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

Ratings: 3 stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CD Odyssey Disc 1855: John Cougar Mellencamp

Last week my amazing wife Sheila sourced me a used CD rack (these are increasingly hard to find – thank you, Sheila!). It holds another 90 albums!

Sadly, this record will not be one of them.

Disc 1855 is…The Lonesome Jubilee

Artist: John Cougar Mellencamp

Year of Release: 1987

What’s up with the Cover? John sits at the bar with a local workin’ man. I expect John is suggesting through this photo that he likes hanging out with the regular folks. That would work better if he weren’t looking away awkwardly. It’s got a very “sit near me, but not with me” vibe.

I prefer to think right before this photo was taken John sat down and tried to befriend this guy to which he replied, ‘not interested’ and we’re catching the moment mid-spurn.

How I Came To Know It: I saw this record in the bargain bin at my local record store for a low $3. I liked one of the songs from when it came out, so despite my historic misgivings about Mellencamp, I decided I would give it a go.

How It Stacks Up: I have two Mellencamp albums, this one and the classic “Uh Huh”. “The Lonesome Jubilee” comes in at a distant second.

Ratings: 2 stars

When I reviewed “Uh Huh” back at Disc 1794, Mellencamp made me eat the unkind words I’d spoken about him in my youth. Did “The Lonesome Jubilee” have a similar impact? Two words: uh-uh. That is not to say this is a terrible record, only that it is just OK.

“The Lonesome Jubilee” has two things to say, and Mellencamp says them a lot, without much variation. Thing 1: “The good old days were pretty great, eh?” and Thing 2: “Boy, things aren’t great these days.” These are not earth-shattering but they can make for a song or two. The results here are a bunch of inoffensive, efficient, radio friendly social commentary with no surprises.

The draw from the outset for me is the lively and vibrant “Paper in Fire” featuring the talented fiddle playing of Lisa Germano. This caught my attention for a couple of reasons back in 1987. I’m not going to deny it – one of those reasons was how great Germano looked playing that fiddle in that shift dress in the music video.

The main reason though, was in 1987 I had limited exposure to fiddle music and Mellencamp bringing that American style fiddle playing into pop music was novel and interesting. My deep and abiding love for all style of fiddle playing was still just around the corner, and through “Paper in Fire” I was unwittingly whetting my appetite for things to come.

I have since come to be exposed to a lot of fiddle music by some exceptional masters of their craft. Germano’s playing is still solid – even with Mellencamp mostly using it in the arrangement like trumpet flourish – but with so much more under my belt now it is just one of many fun fiddle hooks, and no longer a revelation.

Back in 1987 “Cherry Bomb” was also a hit but unlike “Paper in Fire” I hated that song, which was severely overplayed. I am pleased to tell you this hate has been purged from my heart, and I now think it’s one of the record’s better offerings. Sure it has a sometimes tired and obvious exploration of “we were once kids, and now we have kids” but the tune is solid and I dig Crystal Taliefero’s guest vocals.

This is also a good time to point out that the “Lonesome Jubilee” “Cherry Bomb” is not the same song as the Runaways song of the same title, which is both better and has more to say. But there is room in my heart these days for two “Cherry Bombs” so that’s not a problem.

The rest of this record is just OK. I wasn’t irritated by any of the songs (well, OK, “Rooty Toot Toot” is pretty irritating), but nor did I feel like I was going to be urgently fumbling through my music collection so I could hear them either.

“The Lonesome Jubilee” demonstrates that Mellencamp knows how to write and sing, but it mostly had me thinking of other artists in my collection that just do what he’s doing better. It is a bunch of “life is harder now” stuff, competently delivered, but a bit preachy and unsurprising.

Two stars for this two-note record that is going to be moving along out of my collection.

Best tracks: Paper in Fire, Cherry Bomb