CD Odyssey Disc 1970: Paul Kelly and the Messengers

Happy Halloween, and welcome back to the CD Odyssey! Before our review I will share four of my favourite albums from the year corresponding with the review number – 1970!

• Black Sabbath x2, “Self-Titled” (Disc 105) and “Paranoid” (Disc 194)
• Simon and Garfunkel, “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” (Disc 351)
• Allman Brothers, “Idlewild South” (Disc 940)

I’m falling behind in my listening to new albums right now, as my wallet is turning out to work faster than my ears. This next album is one of the reasons why – an impulse buy that led me to several more of the same.

Disc 1970 is…Comedy

Artist: Paul Kelly and the Messengers

Year of Release: 1991

What’s up with the Cover? A dingy comedy club awaits its next hopeful fool. The time lapsed photography blurs some of the patrons and lends an air of listlessness. Every night in this place is the same –uneven performers and tired jokes.

On the plus side, cheap drinks and no cover!

How I Came To Know It: My friend Casey introduced me to Paul Kelly when he bought me Kelly’s 1989 album “So Much Water, So Close to Home” for my birthday one year (thanks, Casey!). Years later I saw “Comedy” and a couple other albums sitting in the local record store at discount prices. I took a chance on all three and here we are.

How It Stacks Up: Paul Kelly has an impressive 28 studio albums across his career, but I only have four of them. Of those four, I put “Comedy” in at #1.

Ratings: 4 stars

Going for a double album is a delicate decision. For every “London Calling” and “The Wall” out there, there is another double record in desperate need of a trim. Paul Kelly’s “Comedy” lands somewhere in the middle. Could I have cut a few tracks and squeezed it into a single LP? Probably, yes, but the quality of the songs would have made the task difficult. So while I initially chafed at the length of this record, I still found myself sinking into a lot of timeless gems from one of Australia’s finest singer-songwriters.

In 1991 Paul Kelly was walking that folk/rock line that would later morph into what the kids now call “Indie” but back in the day we called it “College Rock”. Terms change, but this particular mix of lyric-forward delivery and jangly guitar will be well familiar to any fans of R.E.M., Uncle Tupelo and countless other bands doing similar stuff across the Pacific and International Date Line. Slap a helping of the Pogues in there, and you’ll have the idea.

If you like that jangly, sometimes dark approach to storytelling, then this record will not disappoint. Yes, the sound and production is a bit light on the low end, but its by design, not accident, and once you settle in and acclimate you can appreciate how that slightly diffuse sound brings exactly the kind of uncertainty that these songs need to help you think deep thoughts.

The album opens with “Don’t Start Me Talking” which for an album called “Comedy” is a pretty good (if unintended) inside joke. The song isn’t about the fact that a double album and 17 more songs await you, but it was hard not to feel Paul was winking at me.

Kelly is a masterful songwriter, and he knows how to take a small event or image and blossom it into a broader theme that explores the complicated trials of the human heart.

“Wintercoat” is a fine example, which in just three and a half minutes walks us through the start of a relationship, its collapse and the stark cold that you’re left with. Our narrator clutches his coat about him against the winter air, but the song leaves an unstated certainty that the chill is coming from within, and the coat’s value is in its memory, not its warmth.

“Leaving Her for the Last Time” is a good example of a song where just the refrain can tell you more than the narrator is willing to say out loud. Anyone who is leaving their problematic relationship “for the last time” already has an established track record of not following through.

Kelly is a master of language to match his musical themes. “I Won’t Be Your Dog Anymore” is full of minor key menace, and a plaintive chorus that cries defiance. The lyrics are some of the best on the record and match the tone. A couple of great snippets:

“I’ve been drinking muddy water
And it tastes like turpentine
I’ve been leaving muddy footprints
Up and down the Morgan line”

And later…

“Now the mangrove sun is sinking
And the moon is bloody red
Every gun is clean and loaded
Lying by a feather bed”

That is some dark and brilliant shit.

At the end of our epic journey, Kelly returns to his comedy theme with, “Little Boy Don’t Lose Your Balls”. It’s a funny time and a good image to giggle to, but like “Don’t Start Me Talking” it isn’t just for laughs, as Kelly works in deeper messages. On “Don’t Start Me Talking” Kelly warns that if you invite him to share his deepest thoughts he’ll do just that, and the record that unfolds explores individual tragedy, as well as social justice themes, inequity and a host of complex human emotion.

“Little Boy Don’t Lose Your Balls” bookends our journey through comedy that’s not. It’s a reminder that wealth and recognition don’t mean a thing if you lose your integrity along the way. Wise words to live by.

Could this record shave four or five of its 18 songs and be slightly better? Absolutely, but even with the bloat it is still one of Paul Kelly’s best.

Best tracks: Don’t Start Me Talking, Wintercoat, Leaving Her For the Last Time, I Won’t Be Your Dog Anymore, Take Your Time, Sydney from a 727,  Little Boy Don’t Lose Your Balls

CD Odyssey Disc 1968: Orange Goblin

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey. As we’ll be doing for the next 50 or so reviews, here’s a few records I recommend from the year corresponding to the review number.

• The Rolling Stones, “Beggar’s Banquet” (Disc 381)
• The Beatles, “The White Album” (Disc 593)
• The Byrds, “Sweethearts of the Rodeo” (Disc 1021)

Not exactly a very surprising list, and overall 1968 does not look to be shaping up as my favourite year in music.

And now…goblins!

Disc 1968 is…Frequencies from Planet Ten

Artist: Orange Goblin

Year of Release: 1997

What’s up with the Cover? There is a LOT going on with this cover. We have landed on an alien planet just in time to see a musical meet up. A giant intergalactic amp and speaker stacks are pumping out tunes to all the groovy guests.

The dude with the hookah may even be producing some sonic creations of his own with all those shoulder pipes. The cone-headed green dude has a squeeze box of sorts, if a squeeze box was a disembodied mouth that shrieked when you squeezed it.

As for the moon, he is the only one who appears distressed at the whole affair. Maybe he’s already had some noise complaints from the other planets, or maybe he’s just afraid of music. I admit I am also a little afraid of music that features a screaming mouth being squeezed by a disembodied hand.

That said I’ve got pretty varied tastes and would be willing to give it a go.

How I Came To Know It: I was introduced to Orange Goblin by my friend Chris, who played a record of theirs one day during a barbecue. It isn’t your usual fare for a barbecue, but it worked.

This particular album is part of a 2002 rerelease of Orange Goblin’s first two records (the other being 1998’s “Time Travelling Blues”) that I found used at the local record store and snapped up on the cheap.

How It Stacks Up: Orange Goblin has 10 studio albums, but I only have four. Of those four, I put “Frequencies from Planet Ten” at #2.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Frequencies from Planet Ten” is Orange Goblin’s first record, so it can be forgiven for wearing its inspirations on its sleeves. Fortunately, those influences are honoured and blended, not simply imitated. The result is a record that at different times can feel from a previous time and also strangely current, often alternating between these sentiments within a single song.

Orange Goblin is for the most part a psychedelic metal band, prone to groove-driven guitar riffs suitable for watching a pack of Harley Davidson’s drive by. They also liberally mix in garage rock and even a soupcon of KISS in the vocal delivery of lead singer Ben Ward.

Ward’s raspy tones are more Lemmy than Simmons/Stanley but the phrasing of the songs have a KISS groove to them in places that the more punk-flavoured Motorhead doesn’t explore.

I found the sound initially a bit too full and busy, but Orange Goblin is like a very hot bath – you’ve got to immerse yourself for a while before you decide if you like it. The longer I listened the more I started to pull the intricacies of time signatures, and internal melodic shifts.

When they do these well they hearken to greats like Black Sabbath; chugging riffs that made me want to swing what’s left of my hair in a mosh-fueled fury. Those riffs tend to sit forward in the pocket creating that urgent lean that had me thinking earlier of fat-bodied choppers and growling sword pipes.

There were also many occasions where they descended into a more experimental thrashing about. Sometimes these worked (and reminded me favourably of Deep Purple) and other times they got a bit too impressed with themselves (and reminded me of Cream).

You read that right, dear reader: I admire Cream’s contributions to hard rock, but I don’t like listening to an album full of it.

But I digress…

The band does a bit of all of this stuff – the groove, the psych, and the weird – on “Saruman’s Wish”, which is one of my favourites almost despite itself. You can enjoy this record just for the many different musical movements it explores across a little over six minutes, but the lyrics are also solid. They explore Saruman the White’s descent into madness (presumably with all that Palantir-staring he’s been getting up to). He sees a world lost, with the only escape to selfishly seize what power he can.

Later the band will do a short instrumental tune capturing the mysterious beauty of the forest of Lothlorien (which they misspell “Lothlorian”). It is a lovely palate cleanser halfway through the record’s otherwise furious pace.

Lord of the Rings fans, that bit was for you. IYKYK.

I actually found the back half of the record stronger than the front, but that could be because on each listen it took a while to sink in.

“Orange Goblin” (the song) is the crunchies track on the record, which is saying something. This is fist-pumping thump at its best. A lot of the lyrics on this record are overwrought and ridiculous, but it works well when paired with the bombastic beats and riffs on a song like “Orange Goblin”.

There are two bonus tracks on this re-issue, which are basically adding a two-song EP onto the back end. I don’t usually like when a band adds bonus tracks onto the same disc, but this EP is only two tracks (“Nuclear Guru” and a cover of “Hand of Doom”) also released in 1997, and is a good stylistic fit.

As for the cover of “Hand of Doom” it doesn’t add a lot to the Sabbath original other than 90 seconds of playing time, but it is well-played and any day I get a chance to hear “Hand of Doom” is a good day.

Overall, this record is very solid debut. There are places where they stray a bit too close to the edge of imitation (one track has Ward calling out a very Ozzie-like off-the-beat, “all right now!” which I thought unnecessary) but they are rare moments that I forgive as part of the recklessness of youth. For the most part this is a band exploring myriad off hard rock traditions and forging their own space in the process.

Best tracks: The Astral Project, Saruman’s Wish, Lothlorian (sic), Orange Goblin, Star Shaped Cloud

CD Odyssey Disc 1966: Ozzy Osbourne

I’ve decided to try something new where before I do the review of the day, where I list a few (no more than five) of my favourite records from a year with same number as what review I am on. Obviously once we are “in the future” this will cease, but it’ll be fun for a while.

So, without further ado, here are two great records from 1966:

·       Bob Dylan, “Blonde on Blonde” reviewed at Disc 306

·         Simon & Garfunkel, “Sounds of Silence” Disc 239 – where I wrongly labelled it’s release year as 1965 (in my defence it was January, 1966).

I also really dig the Supremes – “Supreme A’ Go-Go” but I don’t own it yet. That is going to change very soon.

“Wait a minute”, you may be saying, “did he just exclude both "Pet Sounds" and "Revolved"? Yeah, I did. I like both those records just fine, but these are some of my favourite albums from 1966, not someone else’s…

Disc 1966 is…No More Tears

Artist: Ozzy Osbourne

Year of Release: 1991

What’s up with the Cover? Ozzy, having doffed his shirt, is looking angsty and withdrawn. This is in contrast to early Ozzy covers that have him in full cosplay looking like a crazed maniac.

This may seem an odd departure, but don’t judge Ozzy. Every band not still in the denial of hair metal’s death spiral at this time was trading in for tarp-less angst.

Frankly, I think Ozzy wears it better than most. He’s even sprouting a small angel wing on his back, which would have made wearing a shirt itchy.

How I Came To Know It: This is yet another of my Ross records, obtained from my buddy Ross when he divested his CD collection. This is the seventh review of that bunch so far. Thanks, Ross!

How It Stacks Up: I currently have four Ozzy records (two via Ross, and two via my own devices). I don’t know any of them well enough yet, but I am confident “No More Tears” at least good enough to be third, and maybe even second. For now I’ll put it in third. Maybe it’ll finish second, but that’s the disadvantage of skating first…

Ratings:4 stars

Great artists tend to have later career classic records, and “No More Tears” is one of those for Ozzy Osbourne. More than a decade after he launched his solo career with the brilliant “Blizzard of Ozz” Ozzy returns with a record that is a bit more polished than what fans might expect but showcasing some of his strongest work.

While the record leans a bit more into hard rock ballads than pure metal, there’s no denying its edge, with Ozzy always willing to lean into the darker side of the human experience.

This is never truer than on the opening track, “Mr. Tinkertrain” a song told from the perspective of a child abuser, who has given himself the clownish alter ego of Mr. Tinkertrain, under which he hurts kids. Ozzy sings about madmen and werewolves without a second thought, but the deep dive into the terrifying and horrible Mr. Tinkertrain is as dark as he gets. It is genuinely creepy.

The record features two timeless earworms that would help define the decade for those with an ear for metal. The first of these is “Mama I’m Coming Home”, fueled by the inspired picking of guitarist Zakk Wylde. Wylde’s work here is like a pastoral folk song in places, then switching to pure metal magic in the inspired solo that – like all good solos - relies more on tone than speed.

“Mama, I’m Coming Home” has some of Ozzy’s best work as a vocalist as well, as he does what Ozzy always does – turns his performance deeply inward to his most vulnerable, and then lets that vulnerability blossom out to his audience. The ability to share the unseen storms in the depth of the human heart is a true art, and few do it as well as Ozzy.

The other big hit was “No More Tears” which is another metal classic. It has an odd bit of synth production at the front end that are very much a product of the time, but “No More Tears” makes that fuzzy production a feature not a bug. The song is a long one at 7:23 in playing time, but you never get bored.

While those are the radio hits (I assume) the whole record is great, and on successive listens I enjoyed this record more and more. In addition to freaking us out with “Mr. Tinkertrain” and making us feel the feels with “Mama…” Ozzy throws in a bunch of songs that are ground zero for metal conversation.

“Hellraiser” is a song about being on the road and rocking out. It’s simple message: “come to my concert, and I will blow you away”. “I Don’t Want to Change the World” is classic metal rebellion. A “screw you” for all those critics saying Ozzy is bad for your kids. Best lines:

“Tell me I'm a sinner, I've got news for you
I spoke to God this morning and he don't like you
You're telling all the people the original sin
He says, he knows you better than you'll ever know him”

“Zombie Stomp” is a weird Side Two offering that took me a while to love. It takes forever to get going and feels like more of an exploration of beat and rhythm than a full song. In the end it never became a favourite, but I started to appreciate it for what it was. Could the record (which approaches a full hour in length) live without the six-minute stretch of “Zombie Stomp”? Yeah, it could, but it is more weird and out of place than objectively bad.

The final track, “Road to Nowhere,” is a perfect summary of Ozzy’s ability to pull you in with deeply personal compositions. Here Ozzy is feeling a bit of regret across past years. He doesn’t wallow in mistakes once made, but he acknowledges them in a way that feels sincere and thoughtfully explored.

“The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me
It just won't leave me alone
I still find it all a mystery
Could it be a dream?
The road to nowhere leads to me”

Ozzy isn’t saying he’d change anything in this song, he’s just recognizing that he got here on his own. By internalizing his own road to nowhere, and sharing it with the audience, he invites us all to a little introspection.

Purists might say that some of these songs are too soft around the edges for an Ozzy record. I might have said the same in 1991 when it came out and was not yet a converted Ozzy fan. But those people (including me) were completely overlooking just how consistently ballsy Wylde’s guitar work is on this record. We were also overlooking that at their core these are just well-constructed songs, that would be bangers in any genre.

I’m so glad that through my friend Ross I had a chance to reacquaint myself with this record 25 years later and both recognize my initial error, and this record’s greatness.

Best tracks: I Don’t Want to Change the World, Mama I’m Coming Home, No More Tears, S.I.N., Hellraiser, Time After Time, Road to Nowhere

CD Odyssey Disc 1925: The Tragically Hip

Today’s long weekend Monday finds our Humble Author confronted by a great many chores. Many a task lays before me, but none more important than to advance the CD Odyssey journey by one more record. Here it is.

Disc 1925 is…Phantom Power

Artist: The Tragically Hip

Year of Release: 1998

What’s up with the Cover? Some kind of industrial electrical panel. I’ve worked on lots of industrial sites where there are panels like this one and I can tell you one thing with certainty – I do not touch these buttons or dials. That’s for folks with proper training only.

Having said that, the one indicator light situated centre-right labelled “MALF” would sorely test my resistance. What does MALF do?

Then I realized that the entire row is dedicated to MALF. You can choose your synchro levels of MALF and pick a MALF between one and twenty (I would choose 11) and then flick that switch and then see what lights up out in the yard, baby!

And then be escorted out of the gate by the foreman, because there’s no room on a construction site for an untrained guy messing with the MALF settings.

How I Came To Know It: I know this album from when it was released, but I’ve only recently been filling out my Tragically Hip collection. I’ve been pretty cagey (you might even say…bobcaygey) about it, knowing there are more than a few copies of nineties Hip record floating around on CD.

Case in point: I bought “Phantom Power” at a thrift store for one lowly dollar. The CD looked a little bit scratched but I figured for a $1 it was worth the risk and sure enough, a quick clean and the whole thing played without a hitch.

How It Stacks Up: I now have eight Tragically Hip albums. When I wrote my first Hip review I only had four, so the rankings through time don’t make a lot of sense. All I can say is I recalibrate each time while honouring my original “what’s before what” determinations in earlier reviews.

“Phantom Power” is a good one, but the Hip have a lot of good ones. I put it #5 out of 8.

Ratings: 3 stars

Canada’s house band, the Tragically Hip, are a bit of a big deal up here in the true north, strong and free. The rest of the world may shrug, but when the Hip put out a record in Canada, the tundra quaked with excitement.

I like the Hip, but my journey to them was slower and more meandering, and so while I knew all the hits off of Phantom Power, it took a while for it to echo its way into my heart. Finding it for a $1 didn’t hurt either.

The Hip are a hard rock band and while “Phantom Power” has exceptional melodies and song concepts, they tend to be dressed up in the saturated arrangements and production of the mid-nineties treatment of that genre.

This should have immediately turned me off, but like so many Tragically Hip records, the complex layers of sound on each song are masterfully pulled together. It creates a three-dimensional soundscape where you can focus on a single instrument if you wish, but it is even better when you find that sweet spot in your focus where everything comes at you even in the mix.

Sitting at that nexus point, I dug down past Gord Downie’s high vibrato vocals (where I started) and found Rob Baker’s sublime guitar work, sometimes laying down a gentle bird song on the slow songs, and cranking out tsunami-sized riffs on the heavier tunes.

The record had a number of hits back in the day and won a bunch of awards (Canadians – I know you know this. That part was for the international audience). The best song is “Poets”. As a person who identifies as a writer all the time and a poet some of the time, “Poets” always gives me a good chuckle, with its narrator’s broad disparagement of the occupation. Best line:

“Don’t tell me that they’re antisocial
Somehow not antisocial enough.”

Yup – give that moody guy on the deck half an opening, and he’ll be reciting to you his latest effort in blank verse before you have a chance to say “sorry, my cab’s here”.

“Poets” has that early Hip sound, digging down in the grime of the blues and then blasting through it with rock and roll crunch. The Hip could stay in that space for a whole record and leave the audience satisfied, but instead they have a few songs that break can also break it down, and later on “Thompson Girl” Downie and the lads do just that.

“Thompson Girl” is a sweet tune, made sweeter by the addition of some timely mandolin, and Downie’s high head voice warbling. Downie approaches “Thom Yorke alien voice” in a couple of places here, showing his sneaky range that often goes unnoticed while the band is just rockin’ out.

In the end, there was nothing on “Phantom Power” that negatively pushed it down to fifth best in my Tragically Hip collection. Maybe just fewer “higher than high” points than some of the records in front of it.

This is a solid collection of songs, with an urgent lean in the delivery that is good for driving and some subtle fireworks of sound, arrangement and the evocative poetry of Downie that makes it just as fun on headphones.

But there I go again, telling you what the poets are doing. Go listen for yourself.

Best tracks: Poets, Something On, Bobcaygeon, Thompson Girl, Fireworks, Vapour Trails

CD Odyssey Disc 1908: Enya

It’s taken ten long and random years for me to come around to the final album in my collection by this artist, but here we are! My first review of her work was Disc 11 – so long ago it was before I had the “What’s Up With the Cover?” section. Dark times for the readers, indeed.

Disc 1908 is… The Memory of Trees

Artist: Enya

Year of Release: 1995

What’s up with the Cover? The eternally beautiful Enya sitting on some sort of Throne of the Gods looking mysterious. Is she an oracle? A royal vizier? The empress of a mystical land?

Maybe she’s a half-elven bard on a thrilling fantasy adventure! More on that later…

How I Came To Know It: For a few years in the late eighties and early nineties Enya was a Big Deal. I would have bought this album, likely from a record store that no longer exists (A&B Sound or Lyle’s Place being the two most likely) the week it was released. That’s how you bought your music in 1995 – at a bricks and mortar store – and its how I still do it to this day whenever I can.

How It Stacks Up: I have five Enya albums. Of those five, “The Memory of Trees” comes in at #4. I can’t put it above “Watermark” and because “Watermark” only received two stars, I’ve done the same here, but I want you to know, dear reader, that I feel bad about this and would happily give both three stars on a day like today, where I am feeling more charitable.

As this is the last of the Enya reviews, here’s a recap:

1. Shepherd Moons: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 854)
2. Self-Titled: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 205)
3. Watermark: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 11)
4. The Memory of Trees: 2 stars (reviewed right here)
5. A Day Without Rain: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 24)

Ratings: 2 stars

What did Frodo and Sam hear when elves passed by on their journey to Bree? Probably this album. Enya’s ethereal voice and mix of English, Gaelic and Latin lyrics lends itself to enchanted forests and wandering minstrels.

I was as enchanted as everyone else by Enya back in 1995. So much so, I even had a Dungeons and Dragons character (a half-elven bard named Arlea) based largely on Enya and her music (and maybe a little Karen Matheson as well). I even made a mixed tape of songs Arlea would sing that was heavily laden with Enya songs and forced them upon my fellow gamers (I regret nothing).

Holy nerd tangents! Let’s get back to the music, shall we?

Hailing originally from Celtic band Clannad, Enya branched off into a more layered, produced sound that in the day we called New Age. How can you tell New Age from folk? All that production and overdubs is a good start. 

The New Age tricks that Enya did was to layer her own vocals multiple times, making a rich tapestry of sound. It works because her voice, which is sweet and gentle, lends itself to the treatment.

Whatever you think of how an Enya song is produced, there is no denying the lift your heart gets when she climbs into the higher parts of her register. There is something otherworldly going on in that voice that transcends the human – like she’s made a deal with a leannán sídhe or maybe is one. Either way, we’re the fortunate beneficiaries of her instrument.

As with most Enya albums, she puts one jumpy number on there to draw in the audience and to get some MTV/MuchMusic playing time. On “The Memory of Trees” this offering is “Anywhere Is”. It’s a catchy number, despite some cringe-worthy sing song moments in the lyrics like “In motion on the ocean/The moon still keeps on moving”. Not bad written down but a bit twee out loud.

This is what we sign up for with an Enya record, though. If you don’t think you’re going to get a heathy does of ‘twee’ and ‘dear’ from a record that has song titles like “China Roses” and “Tea-House Moon” then you are fooling yourself.

The good news is that while some of those tracks are forgettable “background while browsing the antiques store” fare, there are also plenty that provide a lift to the spirit in a way few other artists can accomplish. Enya’s quiet grace got me through many a dark time in my life and you could do a lot worse than laying in the dark listening to “the Memory of Trees,” letting the weariness wash away on the waves of the motion on the ocean.

Best tracks: Anywhere Is, Athair Ar Neamh, Hope Has a Place, On My Way Home

CD Odyssey Disc 1894: Hole

While I admire the nineties Seattle music scene (and have plenty of music from it) I never fell as hard for it as some of my peers. That’s the only excuse – a thin one at best – on why it took me so damned long to come around to Hole’s masterpiece, “Live Through This”. Glad to be catching up now.

Disc 1893 is… Live Through This

Artist: Hole

Year of Release: 1994

What’s up with the Cover? A now iconic image capturing the intersection of savagery and beauty that is a pageant.

How I Came To Know It: This album is kind of a Big Deal, so I knew about it for years, but never thought to buy it. This was foolish.

Fortunately, I belong to a club of music enthusiasts where we share our discoveries, and last year someone brought a song off of “Live Through This”. This caused me to investigate, recognize my previous oversight, and correct it on my next visit to the local record store.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Hole album, so it doesn’t stack up.

Ratings: 5 stars

Alternating between a sultry croon and a full-throated growls, “Live Through This” is consistent in one thing: it’s visceral rage. It’s the good kind of rage; targeted and thought-provoking. The kind that makes the listener confront society and all its ills and reconcile their place in that mess.

Grounded in the Seattle grunge sound, “Live Through This” sits at the nexus of punk and rock, with an undercurrent of pop-music hooks to help the medicine (which is often bitter) go down easier.

Like the album’s cover, this is a record about beauty with its mascara messy and running. Appearance and image – and the twisted way society can weaponize it – feature heavily throughout. On “Miss World” we see the inner turmoil and trauma of a pretty girl, and on “Asking For It” we have perhaps the greatest rebuke to that tired and petty sexual assault defence ever codified in music.

Courtney Love isn’t a multi-octave crooner, but she makes no claims to be. If anything, I think history has unfairly judged her vocals. She has a slightly-flat tone that matches well with her punk-style delivery. The slight disconnect, one half step away from pop, is a big part of what puts the sharp edges on these songs. When she’s singing quiet, she makes it sound dangerous. When she opens up into full metal growl she lifts the song up into the roiling angry storm that the lyrics call for.

The rest of the players are equally exceptional, with their skillful playing providing the platform from which Love can explore the space in the song without anything ever going off the rails- or going off the rails just enough.

Guitarist (and principle co-writer) Erik Erlandson is particularly notable, delivering rock grooves and metal crunch with equal skill. His guitar has a foreboding tone that matches the themes of the record well. On “Credit in the Straight World” there is even a hint of Buddy Holly lurking in there, under all that reverb.

On a tragic note, this record was the last for bassist Kristen Pfaff who would die of a heroin overdose shortly after recording at the young age of – you guess it – 27. Damn you once again, heroin. Damn you.

An unexpected discovery for me is “Jennifer’s Body” a song that is simultaneously about the attack on a woman’s body, and also her own inner disconnect from it. Is it a song of murder and mayhem, or just crippling self-doubt? Yes. It fits well with the 2009 movie of the same name. Not the same plot, but clearly with themes that (I think) are partially inspired by the song 15 years earlier.

There aren’t many records that can be this angry but still retain focus, but this record accomplishes it. It is a record that, like its title, isn’t just for listening, it’s for living through. You’ll be confronted with the inner demons of its creators but reflected back through the harsh lens of society that is one of the reasons they were possessed by those demons in the first place.

This is a winner of a record that took a while to find a home in my collection but will be getting a lot of playing time in the years to come.

Best tracks: all tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1889: Sleater-Kinney

Merry Christmas! I am writing this sitting in a pair of cream-coloured pajamas and a gold robe (both vintage), feeling quite decadent. I hope you are having an equally sumptuous and relaxed holiday. Perhaps as part of your routine you would like to enjoy a small dose of musical criticism. If so, consider this my Christmas gift to you.

Disc 1889 is… Dig Me Out

Artist: Sleater-Kinney

Year of Release: 1997

What’s up with the Cover? The band pays homage to the Kinks’ album, “The Kink Kontroversy” (thank you Internet, as I did not know this independently).

Rather than going on about that thing I learned without effort, let us reflect on the amateur photography of 1997. 1997 was relatively early for digital camera availability, so I suspect these were film photos that were developed.

The downside to film was that you only got about 20 photos, good or bad. As a result a lot of photos have the quality of the ones on this album cover, which look overexposed (no post-photo editing) and glary.

How I Came To Know It: I knew about Sleater-Kinney back in the day, but didn’t really dig into their music until later. I had a feeling I would like what I heard, and I was right. “Dig Me Out” was just one of a flurry of purchases I made in recent years to round out my collection of this awesome band.

How It Stacks Up: I have six Sleater-Kinney albums. I originally ranked 2019’s “The Center Won’t Hold” (Disc 1294) as #1 and reserved the #2 slot for “Dig Me Out”. But the truth is that the two records are both perfect, and so different from one another it is impossible to compare them. They are both #1, but I don’t allow this, so I am going to give “Dig Me Out” precedence and move it up to top slot.

Ratings: 5 stars

“Dig Me Out’s” immediate impact is a visceral one. This record shrieks at you with a defiant call from the peaks of rock and roll. This is music for scaring your mom and make your dad harrumph in disapproval (n.b. dad was also scared but harrumphed to mask his discomfort).

The vocal style is pure punk and the brassy back-throat snarl of Corin Tucker rings out like a war cry across a roiling plain of battle. Brownstein’s vocals are a calmer counterpunch to this battery, but no less emotive. Together, the pair sonically slap you until they’re sure you’re paying attention. Then they slap you one extra time because…rock and roll.

While the vocals are the easy access point, there is a LOT going on with “Dig Me Out”. The individual instruments, if played in isolation, would feel stark and incomplete. It’s the artful way the trio play together that creates something special. A couple of simple guitar riffs that mixed together create a layer of syncopation and aggression that let you know there is a lot more going on here than the chord or two of your average punk song.

Now insert Janet Weiss on drums, pounding out a panoply of beats that are sneaky creative, and you end up with a record that can be enjoyed for its technical excellence, its creative songwriting, or just for thrashing your hair around angrily when life irritates you.

A timely disclaimer amidst the hyperbole here. Life will still irritate you after the experience but a listen to “Dig Me Out” will make you feel better, if for no other reason than providing a voice and outlet for the irritation.

Like the music, the lyrics lead with the visceral, and then dig down into something more profound after they settle. The title track is born of a frustration so deep the singer wants to tear themselves out of their own skin.

Other songs are grounded in the wellspring of desire, drama, or even dance, with each expressed in the key of measured rage. On “Words and Guitar” the emotion is so overpowering all that can be expressed is words and guitar, rendered down to their Platonic ideals. Words and guitar are just words and guitar, and the music and delivery will tell you everything you need to know of their importance beyond that.

On “Little Babies”, Sleater-Kinney even bend old sixties pop forms to their will, twisting radio friendly arrangements and images of domesticity into something gritty and powerful.

“Dig Me Out” is like being buried in a fine ash. It catches in your throat, hot and gritty, but look a little further and you’ll see the source – an erupting volcano in the distance, all beautiful fury in shades of yellow, orange and red.

Great stuff from a great band that has changed their sound over the years but never stopped climbing the mountain of awesome. “Dig Me Out” is them at the peak.

Best tracks: All tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1882: Celtic Frost

Apologies for my lengthy absence, Dear Readers. I took a short vacation and music listening time required to bring you my always-scintillating insights never quite aligned. That sad state of affairs has now ended, and…I’m back.

Disc 1882 is… Vanity/Nemesis

Artist: Celtic Frost

Year of Release: 1990

What’s up with the Cover? The band have their “cool” faces on as they look out at us sternly from shards of broken glass.

Why the fragmented approach to the photo shoot? Well, you can’t tell from this photo, but all these dudes have Very Big Hair. I don’t think they would have fit on the cover otherwise.

How I Came To Know It: I knew Celtic Frost as a teenager. I loved the band name, but never got into them, so my knowledge was mostly second-hand by reputation (neither my brother nor I owned any). I was on an ill-advised (and since cured) break from metal in 1990 when this record came out.

I recently picked up their 1985 album “To Mega Therion” and liked it, so I decided to take a chance on this later offering.

How It Stacks Up: I have two Celtic Frost albums, and if you’ve been paying attention you already know which two. Of those, “Vanity/Nemesis” comes in at #2.

Ratings: 2 stars

Being trapped with this record for over a week means I got to hear it a lot. Often this plays to an album’s advantage, but not this time.

“Vanity/Nemesis” is a thrash metal record along the lines of early Metallica and Pantera, which are both bands I like. When I first put the record on I settled in quickly to the familiar sounds. The heavy chugging guitar is crunchy and deep, and the drumming is insistent to the point of being almost frantic. There are a lot of ingredients that should make for a solid record, and it had the particular advantage of being good driving music that I mostly experienced in my car.

There is even an early gem, in the form of “Wine in Hand (Third from the Sun)” that offers to pull you in. This song has some great Motorhead-style energy and an industrial underpinning that is part of what I appreciate about 1985’s “To Mega Therion”. The crunch of guitar comes in and out in the arrangement in just the right amount to leave you wanting more.

Unfortunately, this formula is not consistently delivered for much of the record. They don’t just double down on the crunchy guitar, they triple down, to the point of where it starts to feel forced. It is akin to moshing a bit too hard for a bit too long and throwing out your neck. All that crunch needs a bit of structure around it to make it work.

Celtic Frost gamely tries to provide this, but the changes of pace feel draggy and unfocused – like placeholders while the band impatiently waits to return to the crunch. The guitar solos also didn’t have the artistry to lift things up. They’re well played, but don’t add a lot to most of the songs.

All of this can be overcome with some grade A vocals, but apart from a couple tracks I list below, lead singer Thomas Gabriel Warrior did not do it for me. Warrior has a very distinctive style that is somewhere between the strangled rasp of Cirith Ungol frontman Tim Baker and the lascivious coo of ACDC’s Bon Scott. I love both those guys, and when Warrior is a bit “reeled in” I don’t mind him either.

Unfortunately, he is rarely reeled in on Vanity/Nemesis and his creative phrasing – which I think is supposed to sound dangerous and otherworldly just sounds…whiny.

The worst case of this is “Wings of Solitude” which is at its core a pretty creative tune, with a cool idea (what young metalhead hasn’t wished for “wings of solitude” at some point?). But Warrior’s delivery wrecks the fun, feeling overwrought and devoid of emotional resonance. Less cool Dungeon Master and more awkward kid tugging at your sleeve to tell you a disjointed version of the fantasy novel he’s reading. I acknowledge the line between these two is thin, but it is important.

The songs have weird and nerdy subject matter that is hard to follow, but as a longtime metal fan I know this is as likely to be a feature as a bug. I am more than happy to hear weird interdimensional, cosmic comic book stuff, but the weird also has to be cool, and often on “Vanity/Nemesis” it just ain’t.

Because of all of this, you want to sink into the basic chunking of the thrash guitar sound, but instead of that being a respite, its insistent presence feels more like it’s cornering you. Akin to that headache when you are still drinking late at a party and realize you should just go home.

As for this album, I am sure it will go to a lovely home one day as well. It just won’t be mine.

Best tracks: Wine in Hand (Third from the Sun), Vanity

PS: My version of the record is the 1999 re-release which has a couple bonus tracks, one of which is a pretty crazy cover of David Bowie’s “Heroes”. Intriguing, but still not enough to recommend the record.

CD Odyssey Disc 1878: Meat Loaf

It was brought to my attention that my last review (for Neil Young’s “Harvest” was published on Neil Young’s 80^th birthday. I 100% did not know this (Neil, not having invited me over for the festivities) although all those “best Neil Young song lists that were popping up make a lot more sense now.

Disc 1878 is… Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell

Artist: Meat Loaf

Year of Release: 1993

What’s up with the Cover? Our motorcycle riding barbarian from the original album (reviewed at Disc 1860) has returned, and while back on earth he has managed to find some pants.

Emboldened by his newfound clothes, and armed with a ball of hellfire that probably should be stored more securely when riding, he heads for the gates of hell, which are guarded by a the big bat demon from the original album, and also a golden angel.

The angel is there presumably to ask, “are you sure you want to do this?” and sadly for all of us, the barbarian is undeterred as are we, his hapless audience, who are about to be subjected to this record.

How I Came To Know It: Meat Loaf wasn’t on my radar in 1993, but I liked the video for the song “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)” enough that when I saw this record sitting in the $3 bin earlier this year I said, “what the hell”.

How It Stacks Up: I have two Meat Loaf albums, and this is by far the lesser of the two.

Ratings: 1 star

“Bat Out of Hell II: Back to Hell” is the worst collection of aimless, pointless, directionless bombast I have heard in a very long while. If I could send this collection of songs back to hell, reader, I would do so.

The sequel to “Bat Out of Hell” takes all the lessons learned from the 1977 record and misapplies them so badly I felt multiple times that Meat Loaf and songwriter Jim Steinman were deliberately punking me.

Even the record’s most recognizable and arguably best song, the exhaustingly titled “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)” can’t get it right. The original “Bat Out of Hell” title track is a song that successfully breaks all the rules. Almost a full 10 minutes of overblown glory, and you love every minute of it.

The video edit of “…I Won’t Do That” is a chunky 7:40 journey that is a bit tiresome in places, but lifted up by a really hot girl running through a mansion, and a guest vocal (famously not sung by the lip synching woman in the video) that is a delightful counterpoint to Meat Loaf’s signature vibrato.

The album version is almost five minutes longer, with no discernable melodic or narrative value in the extra content. Minus the pretty girl to look at, it quickly becomes interminable. We’re left to wonder just what Meat Loaf famously won’t do when he references “that”.

Through the course of the song he confirms he will do a number of his duet partner’s requests. These include: make magic with his ‘own two hands’ (barf), build an emerald city with grains of sand, cater to her fantasies (one of which includes being hosed down with holy water), take her on trips and provide a parting gift when she goes home. Check, check, and check.

Apparently, the only things he “won’t do” are break up with her or screw around, both of which are not things you typically do for love anyway. The mind is tempted to marvel at what else he won’t do but ultimately, we yawn.

And that’s one of the record’s good songs.

After this we get a whole load of songs that are overlong, go nowhere, and have sprawling titles like “Life is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back”, “Out of the Frying Pan (And Into the Fire)” and “Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are”. These song titles need an edit as badly as the songs themselves (which are respectively 7:58, 7:22 and 10:14 in length).

Along the way you will be treated to such tortured “Meat-aphors” as:

“If life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car”.

By track four – the aptly titled “It Just Won’t Quit” (n.b. also over seven minutes long) you realize that Jim and Meat really won’t. It was when I heard this stanza:

“Oh, is this a blessing or is it a curse?
Does it get any better? Can it get any worse?
Will it go on forever? Is it over tonight?
Does it come with the darkness? Does it bring out the light?
Is it richer than diamonds, or just a little cheaper than spit?
I don't know what it is, but it just won't quit”

…that I began to suspect this drivel was fucking intentional.

Whatever magic Jim Steinman and Meat Loaf captured on their first album is long gone. I imagine the two of them sitting around in the studio having a conversation like this:

“Hey Jim - I’ve got an idea. Kind of half developed, and featuring a strained and obvious metaphor. Can you help me out?”

“Sounds great, Meat. I can write that. But rather than developing it into an epic rock song, how about we just double down on that tired metaphor, throw in some overused phrase that you hear every day, and repeat it ad nauseum for a solid seven to ten minutes.”

“Um, yeah, OK – but let’s put a pretty girl in the video to boost sales.”

The record’s final song is the right-sized (five minute) and generally passable “Lost Boys and Golden Girls” which right at the end reminds you that Meat Loaf, for all his faults, has a great rock and roll voice, and that Steinman can write a song. But by then I had already endured 70 minutes of garbage and was too far gone to care.

Best tracks: The video edit of “I’d Do Anything for Love” (n.b. – not on the record), and “Lost Boys and Golden Girls”

CD Odyssey Disc 1869: Ice Cube

From a gentle journey through Oklahoma folk we head over to the mean streets of Compton. Say what you will about American music, but it’s got range.

Disc 1869 is… Lethal Injection

Artist: Ice Cube

Year of Release: 1993

What’s up with the Cover? Someone is receiving a lethal injection…of sound!

This record features a song with George Clinton so maybe, to quote Parliament, this is a literal depiction of “doing it to you in your earholes”. In any event it does not look like a healthy way to either a) get an injection or b) listen to music.

How I Came To Know It: Just digging through Ice Cube’s early years after I found him via N.W.A. This all happened relatively recently, so I make no claims to long-time fandom.

How It Stacks Up: I have three Ice Cube albums. I like them all but one of them has to be last, and “Lethal Injection” is it.

Ratings: 2 stars but almost 3

Ice Cube is at his best when he’s angry. Whether he’s playing a foul-mouthed movie character (21 Jump Street, Fist Fight) or just spitting some rhymes, Cube is just better when he’s bubbling over.

Cube’s anger tends to manifest in exceptional flow, but it is also where he is more likely to say hurtful things. This is fine by me, as I’m very hard to offend. However, if you don’t want your art to feature hurtful often offensive statements (varied, numerous and often uncalled-for) then you should not explore “Lethal Injection” because it has plenty of them. You’ve been warned.

OK, disclaimers aside, we can talk about the good, the bad and the ugly of this Ice Cube album which does not enjoy a lot of love as his earlier records and frankly, isn’t as good. That’s OK, as those early records are amazing and there is lots of room to fall and still land on solid ground.

The good on this record is Cube doing his deep, deliberate pocket-perfect style. Every rhyme is enunciated with fell intent like he’s daring you to interrupt him, but know you won’t because it would be a crime to slow that flow. You may want to limit yourself to the less offensive songs but remember the disclaimer above – that won’t work. If you want Ice Cube, then that’s Mr. Jackson when he’s nasty.

That last sentence was an overly fond-of-itself reference that is a darling in need of killing. I’m so sorry I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Onward!

The bad is when Ice Cube tries on different styles that don’t match his flow, opting for more of a Snoop Dogg or Nice n’ Smooth vibe. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but mostly it had me pining for the hard-spitting flow I had grown to know and love on previous records. I don’t expect artists to never try anything new, but they don’t have to expect me to like it either.

The ugly, and the one song that held this record below the 3-star line was the eleven minute monstrosity, “Bop Gun (One Nation)”. Borrowing from Parliament, and even featuring the legendary George Clinton himself, this song had everything it needed to be good but still managed to fail, mostly because it commits the cardinal sin of being…boring. For a better blend of Parliament-style funk and rap I recommend “Psycobetabuckdown” which is more fun, more dynamic, and even if you don’t like it, is over in just under three minutes.

I was chastened to realize that “Bop Gun (One Nation)” is the source of a highlight I referenced in my concert review of saw Ice Cube last year, with the chant of “party over here – f*** you over there”. Unlike most of that show, this is one of the moments where the live version was better.

For a full recap of that Ice Cube show (and how he fared against folk singer – yes folk singer – Katie Pruitt) check out my concert review here.

Lyrically, there is still magic on “Lethal Injection” and I enjoyed references to the GI Joe with the kung fu grip (had one), and the clever effort to rhyme “Bosnia-Herzogovina” which works, mostly. Cube has a natural feel for the pocket that few emcees can rival, and so even when some songs fall a little short, his delivery lifts them up again.

“Lethal Injection” is not a must-have in Ice Cube’s discography but it has its moments. After no small amount of deliberation, I’ve decided it remains shelf-worthy.

Best tracks: Really Doe; What Can I Do?