1971 was a godsend to what would later became Classic Rock Radio. So many great albums came out that year that DJ booths would be filled with the echoes of these songs for decades to come. Baby Boomers, ever hungry to relive the good ol' days, would make this an incredibly profitable format for corporations that made their livelihood from ad sales on the herd of radio stations in their corrals. There's no need to guess which songs to play. We already know what the hits are! New stuff? Bah!
And with that commercial radio died. If you wanted to hear new music you had to track down an independent station or college radio.
Occasionally a band would become so popular that corporate radio couldn't ignore them any longer. Nirvana springs to mind. I remember riding in my car with two of my friends and "Smells Like Teen Spirit" came on the local college station. We agreed that it was a great song but they’d never go anywhere.
Man, were we ever wrong on that one.
While I hate the fact that classic rock stifled the airwaves, it was the fault of station programmers, not the bands themselves. Hell, most of them couldn't get their new albums played on the radio either. They only played the old stuff. Familiar. Safe.
But I digress.
Black Sabbath's third album,
Master of Reality, repeats the same successful formula and thus completes what many fans consider to be the “holy trinity” of Black Sabbath albums. With such Sabbath classics as “After Forever”, “Children of the Grave”, “Lord of This World”, “Sweet Leaf” and “Into The Void.” However, the latter two fall short. “Sweet Leaf” is their ode to marijuana and is a plodding piece except for the solo break. “Into The Void” is a tale of astronauts but is musically grounded.
Of the two instrumentals on the album, “Orchid” is decent but “Embryo” is a throwaway. Both feel like filler rather than the “interludes” they were intended to be, something that wasn’t an issue on the previous albums. The big surprise is “Solitude.” This mellow piece is carried by flute and piano with only the occasional flutter of guitar (all Iommi). Ozzy’s voice is unrecognizable. I’m still not sure if I like it as it just doesn’t fit at all.
For me, this marks the end of the beginning of Sabbath. The initial spark of creativity that characterizes many a band at their start had begun to fade for them. From here on, the band fall prey to the hedonistic indulgences of the 70’s that so many others got caught up in.
Oh and if you don’t own a copy of it on cd yet, make sure you don’t get the Creative Sounds, Inc. pressing. It sounds like it was recorded from an 8-track tape that spent twenty years inside a Camaro parked in the sun and basted in bong water. Find a remastered issue instead.
Aqualung has to be Jethro Tull’s most well known album. Forget that Grammy stuff in the 80’s. None of that stuff gets any airplay. It’s all about the 70’s with Tull, and Aqualung is the one people know: the title track, “Cross-Eyed Mary”, “Hymn 43”, and “Locomotive Breath”. While side one is a series of seedy tales of contemporary life in England at the beginning of the 70’s, side two is dedicated to attacking the Church of England for what Ian Anderson sees as the twisting of Christ’s message to suit their own ends. But despite the preachiness, Anderson still manages to make a flute solo rock.
After two rather inaccessible albums (
Ummagumma and
Atom Heart Mother),
Pink Floyd released
Meddle, a compromise between musical explorations and “normal” song structure.
The album’s rocker is the first track, “One of These Days…”, a near instrumental. It starts off with a fierce wind blowing in the distance. The bass kicks in with a steady gallop, punctuated by keyboard shots. Slide guitar comes in to drive the song with the pedal to the medal. Once the song comes to an end, the howling winds return and segue us into “A Pillow of Winds”, which is the exact opposite of the first track. It’s a mellow number, a love song in fact, that brandishes acoustic guitar and features Dave Gilmour on vocals. Gilmour would handle vocal duties for most of the album.
“Fearless” is another acoustic number and showcases a live recording of Liverpool football fans singing the team’s anthem, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” “San Tropez” is Roger Waters’ tongue-in-cheek jazzy upbeat number that pokes fun at life in the south of France. “Seamus” is a sparse bluesy number about a dog, complete with said dog howling along with the music.
The second half of the album is the psychedelic song, “Echoes”. It starts out with a series of pings before the melody arises like a creepy aquatic beast that had been asleep for a century. It features lengthy instrumental passages and sound effects. In fact, during the middle of the track, the song fades out and we’re left with spooky graveyard howls and whistles. After a few minutes, it fades and the organ quietly returns, punctuated by that ping. The song builds back up in a crescendo before yielding to the last round of vocals. The music soars some more only to be boxed up and carried away. The sound is akin to ascending into the heavens with a scattering of pings falling away.
And to think I still don’t have this on cd yet. Shame on me.
After the unfavorable reception to their second album, Yes hit their stride with The Yes Album. The album defined their sound for the next decade: complex arrangements, soaring melodies, stream of consciousness lyrics, and an overall positive sound characterized by Jon Anderson’s vocals; all while ignoring FM radio song length limits. Steve Howe’s blistering fret work was equally matched by Chris Squire’s intricate bass lines. Tony Kaye (keyboards) and Bill Bruford (percussion) completed the band. “Yours Is No Disgrace”, “Starship Trooper”, and “I’ve Seen All Good People” became staples of classic rock radio. “Perpetual Change” closes the album. The song highlights the talents of each musician as each takes the lead in the song at some point. But rather than sound forced, the parts are all seamlessly intertwined.
If you were to ask rock fans what the #1 album of all time was, many of them would say
Led Zeppelin 4. And they’d be justified in putting this album there.
Not me though.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s a fantastic album, even if it has been overplayed to death. The track listing reads likes a set of “greatest hits” most bands would kill to have compiled over their careers. And Zep did it on one album: “Black Dog”, “Rock And Roll”, “Misty Mountain Hop”, “Going To California” (a song that proved ballads can be great), “When The Levee Breaks” and the all time classic “Stairway To Heaven”. “Battle of Evermore” and “Four Sticks” were lesser known tracks that I loved becoming familiar with. And if I had to choose a side, I’d take two over one. But as great as this collection is, there are albums I had a better connection with.
After dabbling in psychedelia, cover songs and orchestral arrangements,
Deep Purple figured out that they wanted to be a hard rock band. Their 1970 album,
Deep Purple In Rock, solidified their status as talented musicians. I remember not being all that into that album. Even the ten minute opus, “Child In Time”, wore on me after a while. I owe it another listen. However, I loved their next album,
Fireball.
Without sacrificing any of their new found intensity, the Mark II lineup (Deep Purple, like Yes and Jethro Tull, would go through many lineup changes over the years) diversified their sound. Machinery cues up the title track which opens the album and relentlessly drives the point home that this is a group effort. “No No No” slows the pace down to mid tempo. Ritchie Blackmore and Jon Lord exchange solos with sparse accompaniment, the latter’s sounding a bit self-indulgent for several seconds before finding a better groove. “Strange Kind of Woman” picks the album up with it’s bluesy boogie. “Anyone’s Daughter” rounds out the first side with clever innuendo from Ian Gillan while Blackmore delivers country blues on his guitar. Lord sticks with straight up piano and it’s perfect.
“The Mule” opens up side two with a bit of a lyrical nod to Black Sabbath. Musically, it’s Deep Purple at their finest. Blackmore’s guitar soars. Ian Paice maintains a relentless pace on the drums. Roger Glover’s bass charges up and down the field with Jon Lord taking the whole thing skyward before the whole song plunges into the ground at the end.
“Fools” starts softly but cranks up the volume once Gillan starts singing. The song is a rather cynical look at the brutality of the human race (another Sabbath nod?). Blackmore’s guitar echoes the madness of Gillan’s lyrics before going silent just before the middle section. The middle section features a somber guitar solo accompanied by a stark drumbeat. When the song resumes, the protagonist has his vengeance as the guitar and organ carry the song to its conclusion.
“No One Came” chugs along a bit like a locomotive. Gillan’s self-deprecating semi-autobiographical lyrics were punctuated by chords from Lord. Blackmore and Lord exchange solos without letting the song get away from them. After a final round of verse the song chugs along out of sight, textured with warped, backwards music flitting about the top.
The original cover art featured the band in a comet-like fireball ascending into the heavens. It was the perfect metaphor for their career at this point.
Still high off the success of
Tommy,
The Who set out to make another concept album/film:
Lifehouse. It was, in Townsend’s words, “a portentous science-fiction film with Utopian spiritual messages into which were to be grafted uplifting scenes from a real Who concert.” But Townsend had a nervous breakdown while in the early stages of recording the album forcing the group to shelve it (Wiki has more info http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lifehouse_(rock_opera)), though many songs would appear on future albums.
And what did we get? A fantastic collection of songs! Rather than cut and paste scraps of demo songs together, the rest of the group rose to the occasion and made tremendous contributions to the replacement album:
Who’s Next. Whereas
Tommy was all Townsend with Daltrey, Moon and Entwistle playing their parts,
Who’s Next is a band at their individual and collective best. The big hits were: “Baba O’Riley”, “Bargain”, “Going Mobile”, “Behind Blue Eyes” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again”. “Getting In Tune” and “The Song Is Over”, two songs which start slow and gradually crescendo over the length of the song, even managed airplay. The one neglected track, “My Wife”, is a humorous tale written by Entwistle about the wrath of said spouse over his having “a bit too much to drink.”
Musically, it was so far evolved from
Tommy as to be a completely different band. A lot of it has to do with the keyboards: whether traditional piano or VVCS3 organ or A.R.P. synthesizer. It gave the band a more mature sound. And rather than the simplistic, almost tinny sounding drums of old, Keith Moon’s drums sound richer. I don’t know what set he had for
Tommy, but on
Who’s Next it sounds four times as big. You can really hear him going off, adding fills and rolls, all without sacrificing the backbeat.
If you don’t own
Who’s Next on cd yet, pick up the remastered version with the bonus tracks. If you’re a Who fan, you won’t be disappointed.
L.A. Woman was
The Doors last album with Jim Morrison. Let’s not kid ourselves about the two albums that followed. I think I heard them once and thinking they were worse than
Soft Parade.
This guy can give you the lowdown. But let’s get back to
L.A. Woman.
It was their bluesiest album and quite possibly their best. The opening track, “The Changeling” is an uptempo, rockin’ blues number. “Ya gotta see me change!” Morrison belts out, heralding that this isn’t the same old band (They hired a bass player!). In fact, Morrison’s transformation from sexy rock god to unglamorous blues shaman is complete. Just check out that album cover. The band’s portrait is done up in an unflattering yellow, as if it had been taken a century ago and sunlight had aged it. Morrison himself sports a bull beard and looks like he’s put on 20 or 30 lbs from his Lizard King days.
Krieger penned “Love Her Madly” and it turned into one of the Doors most successful singles. It’s followed up by two solid blues tracks: “Been Down So Long” and “Cars Hiss By My Window.” The former is more uptempo and rocks out by the end. Morrisson declares that he’s “been down so long it looks like up to me.” “Cars…” is very laid back. Densmore brushes the beat along while Krieger wanders along.
The first side of the album ends with the title track, an homage to the City of Angels. Krieger’s guitar evokes the sounds of a car accelerating down the highway. Jerry Schef drives the song forward with his bass, giving the song the familiar rumble of an automobile engine. As the band jams on, Morrison provides us with a guided tour of the L.A. he knows and, despite its faults, loves. By the end of the song, we’re right there in the convertible with them, speeding down the highway to who knows where and loving every minute of it.
Side two kicks off with “L’America”. It starts out ominously with Krieger’s guitar wringing out a few notes along the melody. The bass picks up the rhythm and Densmore adds a marching beat. The song could be sinister but Manzarek’s keyboards take a twisted turn back the Lizard King’s old days thus landing the listener in familiar psychedelic territory.
Thematically, “Hyacinth House” recalls “The Spy” from
Morrisson Hotel. Morrison takes on the role of disheartened voyeur and laments that “I need a brand new friend that doesn’t trouble me/I need someone who doesn’t need me.” The song shuffles along with melodic chords from Manzarek and the occasional crying guitar. It’s a melancholic song. I could see The Cure covering it.
The album then returns to traditional blues with a cover of John Lee Hooker’s “Crawling King Snake”. Krieger has some interesting riffs in it and Morrison’s vocals are at their grittiest.
“The Wasp” invokes the spirit of The Doors early more mysterious works. While Morrison keeps up captivated with his story, the band’s music fires up a machine (the thumping beat is the engine springing to life) to transport us to an alternate reality. But unlike past LSD-influenced worlds, this one is stable. The music provides a solid footing and even Jim is coherent enough to guide us along, and bring us home.
“Riders on the Storm” concludes the album with a fretful tale about a “killer on the road” seeking shelter from the storm. Said storm is sampled in the background and adds to the chilling tale. The music is mellow and hovers around some nether point where jazz, blues, and psychedelia meet.
I love picking up the guitar and playing along with this album. And due to the structure, I’m free to improvise when I don’t feel like mimicking Krieger. That’s part of the connection I feel with it. I’m not just listening to the album; I’m part of the band. Anyone who’s been in a band understands that feeling. There’s a point where everything comes together and the music you’ve created is greater than the sum of its parts. It transcends.
Alas, Morrison died in Paris later that year; heroin being the likely culprit. He became a prisoner of the very drugs he used to open his mind years earlier. Unfortunately, there was never any indication he wanted to quit. He continued to rely on them for inspiration, erroneously believing that if a little did his muse some good, a lot would be great. It’s too bad. Like Hendrix before him, who knows where the future would’ve taken him.
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DED
Labels: music
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