American Songwriter » Reissues

Queen: 40th Anniversary Reissues

Adam Gold — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 17:41:22 +0000

Queen Queen Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars II Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars Sheer Heart Attack Rating: 4 out of 5 stars A Night At The Opera Rating: 5 out of 5 stars A Day At The Races Rating: 4 out of 5 stars (HOLLYWOOD) In 1973, with their unprecedented grandiosity and scorn for subtlety, no band had ever sounded quite like Queen. And although many have tried, no band has ever really sounded like them since. As their self-titled debut gallops to life with “Keep Yourself Alive” – a veritable pilot episode of a track that amalgamates all the pre-punk sounds of ‘70s rock in under four minutes – their chemistry as an ensemble is immediate. Brian May’s sky-scraping guitarmonies work in fluid cohesion with the vice grip of rhythm section John Deacon (bass) and Roger Taylor (drums), making the perfect palate for Freddie Mercury’s un-matched operatic warble. Even at this early stage – with all four members sharing songwriting duties – Queen showcases an almost schizophrenic penchant for stylistic dynamics, shifting from arena rock (“Keep Yourself Alive”) to hymnal folk (“Mad the Swine”) to proto-metal Zeppelin-aping (“Modern Times Rock ‘n’ Roll”) and even an epic (“The Seven Seas of Rhye”). Building from the same sonic blueprint of its predecessor, Queen II is essentially a leaner, more muscular and ambitious colorization of its predecessor, adding standouts like frenetic rocker “Ogre Battle” and the stunning, Broadway-ready suite of “The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke” and its shimmering piano postlude “Nevermore” – foreshadowing more, uh, bohemian things to come – to the band’s canon. But Sheer Heart Attack is really where they began to harness the power of their proggy proclivities, while at the same time bringing the pop savvy they were merely pointing at on “Keep Yourself Alive” into focus. As Queen’s first truly essential effort, the album boasts such staples as the manic curve-ball-laden “Brighton Rock,” the devastatingly infectious “Killer Queen,” their greatest contribution to the pantheon of hard rock, “Stone Cold Crazy,” and the cue-50,000-arms-swaying-in-unison anthem “In The Lap Of The Gods.” Queen probably could’ve called it quits after Sheer Heart Attack and enjoyed the same kind of posthumous acclaim as contemporaries like Sparks or Mott the Hoople, but a A Night At The Opera was the magnum opus they were destined to make. Here, they combine maritime camp (“Good Company”), country-folk (“’39”), earnest, transcendent pop (“You’re My Best Friend”) proto-metal (“Death On Two Legs”) heart-on-sleeve balladry (“Love Of My Life”), vocal jazz whimsy (“Seaside Rendezvous”) and odes to automotive affection (“I’m In Love With My Car”), sounding relentlessly pompous and face-punch-inducingly playful at the same time. By now Queen were delivering their prodigious pastiche of pop, hard rock, vanilla blues, opera, and showtunes with such unrestrained grandeur that their cleverness borders on insufferable, but never really crosses that threshold. Hence, they’re the band capable of “Bohemian Rhaphsody” – perhaps pop music’s single greatest achievement. Reaching into the Queen II playbook, 1976’s A Day At The Races is – cover art and all – Opera’s sequel. And like all sequels, it’s no Godfather II. But it’s still a “classic rock” classic. With essential catalogue cuts like “Tie Your Mother Down,” the bouncy “You And I,” and the heartbreaking “Somebody To Love,” it’s an equally rewarding listen, not to mention a little less annoying in the glee department.

Mickey Newbury: Reissues

Sean L. Maloney — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 12:07:09 +0000

Mickey Newberry Better Days ‘Frisco Mabel Joy Heaven Help The Child Looks Like Rain (DRAG CITY) Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars Let’s not mince words – there are very, very few songwriters that are as influential and under-sung than Mickey Newbury. Not that people don’t know his songs – it’s almost a guarantee that if you’re reading this magazine you’ve got a bunch of Newbury-penned classics in your CD collection – but the man behind classics by Elvis, Ray Charles, Kenny Rogers and literally more than a thousand others isn’t really the household name he should be. There just aren’t a lot of songwriters that find their songs being covered by shmaltz-king Andy Williams and arch-indie oddball Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, kick off the careers of legends like Kristofferson and Townes Van Zandt and provide the soundtrack for The Big Lebowski, arguably the most important film of our times. Again, it’s impossible to understate the man’s influence – the man changed the way American music sounds. The proof is on Drag City’s recent reissues of Newbury’s classic, more-obscure-than-they-deserve-to-be late ‘60s/early ‘70s records Better Days, It Looks Like Rain, ‘Frisco Mabel Joy and Heaven Help The Child. In those four albums you’ll find the blueprints for pretty much every roots-oriented sound that would appear in the forty years that followed their release – outlaw country, alt-country, commercial country, country rock, folk rock, neo-folk, indie folk and pretty much any other combination of rock, folk and country you could imagine. As experimental as they are traditional, these four albums broadened the pallet of American popular music, expanded its intellectual heft and got closer to the very essence of the human experience more than any other albums besides Dylan’s work from roughly the same period. These are benchmark records no matter which way you cut it. Which makes it all the stranger that this work hasn’t seen a proper repackaging in more than a decade, that Newbury’s name doesn’t fall off the lips of every record store clerk in America, that he doesn’t pop up on every best-of-all-time lists. The subtly brilliant “Remember The Good” from ’Frisco Mabel Joy, the extra-rainy recording of “San Francisco Mabel Joy” from It Looks Like Rain – not to be confused with the more upbeat but just as awesome version of “Mabel Joy” from Heaven Help The Child – and the lovelorn lullaby “Let Me Stay Awhile” from Better Days are masterworks, examples of songs with a perfect emotional pitch. And then there’s “I Don’t Want Me No Big City Woman,” “An American Trilogy,” “She Even Woke Me Up To Say Goodbye,” “The Future’s Not What It Used To Be”.... and the list keeps going. If we were to name every great song on these four records we would have to list, well, all of them. If we were to teach a course on the art and craft of impeccable songwriting, you can rest assured that these four albums would take up the better part of the syllabus. After all, there are very, very few songwriters that are as influential and under-sung than Mickey Newbury.

Weezer: Pinkerton [Deluxe Edition]

Adam Gold — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 12:00:18 +0000

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Weezer Pinkerton [Deluxe Edition] (DGC/Ume) Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars Few albums define the dreaded “sophomore slump” more completely than Weezer's Pinkerton. But few sophomore slump releases go on to define a band as completely as Pinkerton does Weezer. It’s geek rock’s holy grail courtesy of the sub-genre’s flagship band, and an album that, though rife with sincerity, songwriter Rivers Cuomo has seemed to run farther and farther away from ever since. The follow-up to their star-making eponymous debut, Pinkerton was a record that captured a band at their most urgent, a songwriter in the throes of an emotional crisis, and in the process won the hearts and minds of a generation who identified with his pain and heard the band’s revved-up rock as a rallying call. Unfortunately for Weezer, that fan-appreciation wouldn’t reveal itself until years after the record’s 1996 release. On Pinkerton, frontman Rivers Cuomo traded cute for complex. Gone were its predecessor’s carefree sentiments, kitschy videos, and slick production. In their place was a dark, emotional, messy record that documented Cuomo’s struggle to reconcile sudden stardom with pathological sexual frustration, telling the story of a grappling man-child for whom the rockstar indulgences of the good life – like shakin’ booty and makin’ sweet love – only made the pains of lovelorn pining that much worse. Over the course of the album’s first four tracks, Cuomo gets tired of sex, “gotten” by love, and only further frustrated by masturbation. In response, he spends the following six tracks torturing himself with romanticized visions of girls he can never have – whether it’s the Japanese teen who wins his heart (and his song) with a fan letter, or the lesbian with the pink triangle on her sleeve. It’s this narrative that makes Pinkerton the ultimate coming-of-age album, but it’s the band’s warts-and-all presentation that make it rock. Just as the record shows Cuomo wearing his heart on his sleeve, it shows his ensemble in their most raw and uninhibited. A self-produced effort, Pinkerton sounds like an un-doctored live album – showing all the band’s seams, from out of tune guitar-monies to dragging drum fills. While it ain’t Buddy Holly and it ain’t pretty, it’s bursting with all the vigor and excitement of a kid trashing his or her own room with a skateboard – so much so that the cathartic presentation overtakes its bevy of hooks and sharp pop melodies. Consequently, both of Pinkerton’s singles – the self-reflexive “El Scorcho” and self-deprecating “The Good Life” – were wholly ignored by MTV and radio. Adding insult to injury, Rolling Stone famously dismissed the record as a “juvenile tack on personal relationships,” and Cuomo realized that girls were perhaps the least of his problems. Pinkerton’s failure to establish Cuomo as an artiste and reward his soul-bearing saw him and his band retreat to the wilderness for a five-year hiatus. In that time, a growing crop of late-coming fans rewrote the record’s place in history, only to have the band – so burned by said failure – re-emerge as one of the most decidedly vapid institutions in modern rock. Now, Pinkerton is vindicated with a double-disc, deluxe treatment that features 25 bonus tracks – all culled from a period in which the band had no bad songs. While many of those are radio remixes and live or alternate versions of the album’s ten cuts, long-loved B-sides and bootleg favorites like “You Gave Your Love To Me Softly” and “Devotion” can all finally be found in one place.

The Jayhawks: Hollywood Town Hall

Andrew Vietze — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 21:22:41 +0000

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The Jayhawks Hollywood Town Hall American Rating: 4 out of 5 stars When Mark Olson left the Jayhawks in 1995, he expressed frustration at the slow pace of releases allowed by his record label – he wanted to put out more material than American would let him. He and fellow singer-guitarist Gary Louris shared songwriting duties, which meant every couple years they each had the opportunity to put out about five songs. That wasn't enough for Olson, so he packed up his guitars and headed to the California desert, where he started issuing a flood of records over the years under his own name and with his wife, Victoria Williams, in the Original Harmony Ridge Creek Dippers. One of the benefits of the new Jayhawks reissues is that we get to see just how prolific the pair were during their earlier years (American wants all that extra material now). Two of the Minneapolis group's most important records – Hollywood Town Hall and Tomorrow the Green Grass – are being re-released with the customary bonus tracks and goodies, and it's a lot of material. (Tomorrow will supposedly include a sort of Holy Grail of Jayhawks bootlegs – an eighteen-song set called the Mystery Demos.) Hollywood Town Hall was the band's 1991 major-label breakthrough, and it quickly established The Jayhawks as power players on the national alt-country scene. Tacked on to the end of the new reissue are five previously unavailable songs, each of which carries the trademark harmonies of Olson and Louris and which sound even more country-oriented than the ten tracks that originally went on to the record. Olson always cited the Flying Burrito Brothers as an influence and it is more evident than ever on songs like “Keith and Quentin” and “Up Above My Head.” It's also very clear why these five were not selected for the album proper. None have the instant hummability of the rest of the material, the soaring choruses and transcendent harmonies for which the band has become famous. They're interesting to hear from a fan's perspective, however. And it must make Olson happy to get more stuff out there.

Sheryl Crow: 100 Miles From Memphis

Patrick Burns — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 19:37:48 +0000

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Sheryl Crow 100 Miles From Memphis A&M Rating: 4 out of 5 stars With 100 Miles from Memphis, Sheryl Crow takes us back to the glory days of 1960s and 1970s American soul and R&B. The album’s name is a reference to her hometown, Kennett, Missouri, which sits 100 miles from the Tennessee Blues capital. For Crow, the region “is part of who I am, and it’s the biggest inspiration for what I do.” On her seventh album, the American songstress returns to her artistic roots, and reveals more of herself in the process. Since 1993’s Tuesday Night Music Club, for which she won three Grammys, Sheryl Crow has constructed her image on a carefree, vibrant approach to folk-rock and country-pop, looking to Carole King and Bonnie Raitt as vocal progenitors. But on 100 Miles from Memphis¸ she flashes her groovy side. Over the course of 12 songs, she effortlessly channels the classic sounds of Motown, Stax, and the Memphis radio stations she tuned into as a child. From the initial energy blast of the bluesy, stomping “Our Love Is Fading,” the album never tires, touching on reggae (“Eye To Eye”), sinuous, rollicking R&B (“Long Road Home”) and jangly doo-wop (“Peaceful Feeling”). “Summer Day,” the first single, is the quintessential summer love song. From the opening funky bass hook and “nah, nah, nah” chants, the song is structurally flawless. And, as a nod to its title, the nostalgic string arrangements echo those bittersweet summer days that always seem to end too soon. Crow’s chameleon-like ability to bounce from style to style is perhaps most demonstrative on “Eye To Eye,” a breezy reggae jam with a rock steady jaunt straight from Studio One. As guest and close friend Keith Richards plays the slinky guitar riff, Crow gracefully slides into the chorus: “If we don’t see eye to eye, it doesn’t mean we can’t try, to get along.” Here, the 48-year-old mother of two intimates that she has “learned how to dig deep,” not only in songwriting, but also in life. It could be that Crow’s lifetime familiarity with the musical references on 100 Miles is what gives her the poise to approach topics she heretofore shied away from, like vulnerability, lost love and sex. On “Stop,” the only song for which she takes sole songwriting credit, her voice is desperate as she croons, “I could beg, I could pray, that you could come back one day.” She continues on the sultry, “Sign Your Name,” a cover of the Terence Trent D’Arby 1987 classic. The seductive, raspy whisper on the line, “slowly we make love,” presents a surprisingly sexy side of Crow. Yet her self-assuredness – not just here, but across the whole album – conveys that this is just one side of the same woman who has been behind the microphone all along. Replicating the vintage sounds of Booker T, Marvin Gaye, and Sly Stone is no easy task, so credit the backing band for really throwing itself into the enterprise. Producers Justin Stanley and Doyle Bramhall II prioritized the instrumentation on the album by writing the music first and having Crow go back to pen the lyrics. The impeccable production ensures that repeat listens will always reveal more detail. And, for as remarkably focused on Crow’s voice as the songs are, there’s often still enough space for the musicians to air it out, like the extended deep funk jam on “Roses and Moonlight.” Crow’s limitless capacity to appropriate various vocal styles is one reason for her massive commercial success. The same quality has also led some to criticize her music as too impersonal. On 100 Miles from Memphis, however, Crow’s biographical bona fides silence these complaints. It may have taken her over 20 years, but today Sheryl Crow is retrieving and expanding upon those parts of her artistic sensibility that had always been there. As the artist admits, “These feelings won’t go away.”

LENNY KRAVITZ > Let Love Rule: Deluxe Edition

Evan Schlansky — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 22:05:44 +0000

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Lenny Kravitz is a polarizing figure in rock music...

Label: VIRGIN Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars Lenny Kravitz is a polarizing figure in rock music-a seemingly prefabricated cocktail of Jimi Hendrix, Sly Stone and classic rock radio, a peace-loving hippie who readily embraced pop stardom. Before "American Woman" was played on the radio 4 billion times, Kravitz was the upstart musician behind Let Love Rule, his self-produced 1989 debut on which he plays nearly every instrument himself, and quite funkily. The hit here is "Let Love Rule," but virtually every song is a classic, from the acoustic singalong of "Rosemary" to the funk ecstasy of "Freedom Train." Kravitz's gritty voice oozes soul on the plaintive "Be" and the slow-dripping ballad "My Precious Love." "I Built This Garden For Us" is a Beatles-y epic that offers plenty of Kravitz's trademark, shredded-vocal ad libs ("Doo doo yeah!") The reissue comes with spin-worthy demos (the acoustic "Mr. Cab Driver" is bluesy treat), some incendiary live performances, and a frantic reading of John Lennon's "Cold Turkey." They're all a testament to how much talent young Lenny possessed beneath his dreaded main. All Kravitz ever wanted to do was make good music and pay homage to the greats who inspired him; he did his heroes proud on this one.

RICHARD THOMPSON > Walking on a Wire: Richard Thompson (1968-2009)

Hal Horowitz — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 21:04:48 +0000

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Neither 2006's mammoth five-disc box of mostly acoustic rarities nor 1993's three-platter, non-chronological set-overburdened with live performances and unreleased studio outtakes-made the grade for a comprehensive overview of Richard Thompson's long, storied and rather confusing recorded legacy, at least for those who didn't already own most of his albums Label: SHOUT! FACTORY Rating: 5 out of 5 stars Neither 2006's mammoth five-disc box of mostly acoustic rarities nor 1993's three-platter, non-chronological set-overburdened with live performances and unreleased studio outtakes-made the grade for a comprehensive overview of Richard Thompson's long, storied and rather confusing recorded legacy, at least for those who didn't already own most of his albums. That has now been rectified with this four CD, 71-track compilation. It doesn't quite span the titular years (the newest songs are from 2007's Sweet Warrior), but effectively cherry picks material from 15 different labels spread across dozens of occasionally difficult to find side projects, soundtracks and solo albums. The result is, not surprisingly, a sprawling opus. It focuses on Thompson's eclectic artistry both as a dark spirited writer of generally morose, yet feisty songs, that occasionally veer to self-flagellation, and his stunning acoustic and electric guitar proficiency. Those sides have typically sparred for critical prominence, which provides a healthy yin-yang to music that revels in its artist's inherent dichotomy. Thompson's early years with Fairport Convention are somewhat under-represented with only five songs, but not so his six mid-‘70s/‘80s albums with ex-wife Linda Thompson, which account for nearly a full CD's worth of arguably his finest material. It's here that Thompson's gruff yet expressive voice finds a near perfect foil in Linda's sympathetic husky trill, a union that exploded, and unraveled, with the tension evident in the couple's white-knuckled personal and professional swansong Shoot Out the Lights. Mitchell Froom's overly fussy, slick studio work with Thompson has often been criticized, but the best songs from the producer's mid-‘80s through mid-‘90s years yielded plenty of quality material, boiled down to about a CD's worth on this collection. The compilers have successfully woven the diverse colors of the singer/songwriter's rootsy traditional U.K. folk, rock and pop palette, uncovering dusty gems and a few rarities while stretching the canvas to explore the many faces of Thompson's multi-sided personality. Neophytes to his extensive discography finally have a one stop smorgasbord to sample the man's expansive accomplishments before diving into individual releases for further exploration, all of which are guaranteed to provide additional delights.

BECK > One Foot In The Grave (Deluxe Reissue)

Evan Schlansky — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 17:11:53 +0000

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In 1993, he and a few musicians, including Calvin Johnson of K Records, recorded this lo-fi masterpiece on out-of-tune guitars and rusty microphones, deep in the woods drunk on 99 cent beers. Label: INTERSCOPE Rating: 5 out of 5 stars These days, Beck might live in a mansion, but he's no stranger to the shack. In 1993, he and a few musicians, including Calvin Johnson of K Records, recorded this lo-fi masterpiece on out-of-tune guitars and rusty microphones, deep in the woods drunk on 99 cent beers. Or at least, that's the vibe you get when listening to it. At the time, the Silver Lake transplant was deep into rotgut folk music ("Mighty Good Leader" "Hollow Log") and surrealist hobo poetry ("Sleeping Bag," "Cyanide Breathmint," "I Get Lonesome"). There's also stray bits of punk rock experimentation ("Ziplock Bag," "Outcome") interspersed among all the largely acoustic noodlings. Weirdness is the chief weapon here, but genuine emotion emanates throughout. Get it for, if nothing else, the host of B-sides that serve as a museum to the early mind of Beck during a very fertile period.

ISAAC HAYES > Black Moses & Juicy Fruit (Disco Freak)

Michael Gallucci — Fri, 01 May 2009 19:00:02 +0000

Label: STAX Black Moses Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars Juicy Fruit (Disco Freak) Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars By 1971, Isaac Hayes was one of Stax Records' most valuable songwriters, penning r&b classics like "Soul Man" for soul men like Sam & Dave. That summer, Hayes reached No. 1 with the Shaft soundtrack, which included the timeless title theme, a wah-wah-soaked hall-of-famer that still sounds as urgent and as funky as anything recorded over the past four decades. Four months later, Hayes released Black Moses, a two-record set that fortified his persona as the Great Liberator for a nation of people still fighting for civil rights. Here was a colossal black man with a shaved head, a room-rattling voice, and 40 pounds of gold hanging around his neck. And here were 14 songs spread out over 90-plus minutes on an album whose cover unfolded in the shape of a cross. But Hayes (who died last year), with his outstretched arms and skyward gaze, wasn't playing martyr. Black Moses is his break-up album, a song cycle including originals, contemporary favorites, and a four-part "Ike's Rap." Hayes slows most of these songs to a crawl, stripping away whatever shred of hope the songwriters injected into "Never Can Say Goodbye," "(They Long to Be) Close to You," and "I'll Never Fall in Love Again." It's all very sticky, murky, and buried beneath tons of horns, strings, and extra-thick funk. The remastered reissue underlines the album's airlessness - a conceptual device reflecting Hayes' own emotional chaos. At times, it's not a very fun listen - this is relationship exorcism at its most passive-but it's not meant to be. It's a crafty and occasionally hollow follow-up to Shaft that stands as Hayes' most personal work. Less personal, less somber, and less interesting, Juicy Fruit (Disco Freak) was released in 1976, just as many other '60s and '70s r&b stars were finding career boosts in disco. In a little more than a year, Hayes had released four disco albums; Juicy Fruit was the last of them. His longtime band helps gel the grooves, but most tracks are just that - grooves with little direction. Songs like "Music to Make Love By" follow the same horndog template used by Chef, the smooth-talking cafeteria worker Hayes voiced on South Park. But "Chocolate Salty Balls" has way more substance.

NICK LOWE > Quiet Please…The New Best of Nick Lowe

Hal Horowitz — Fri, 01 May 2009 18:59:49 +0000

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This set is just short of perfect because it doggedly sticks to Nick's compositions (no "Switchboard Susan" or "Indoor Fireworks," regardless of how definitive his versions are), but still delivers the crackling goods.

Label: YEP ROC
Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

This two- (or three- with a DVD) disc compilation from the legendary U.K. singer/songwriter/producer splits the difference between 1999's hefty four-CD, rarities-filled box The Doings and 1989's single platter Basher, now obsolete due to five subsequent Lowe releases. This set is just short of perfect because it doggedly sticks to Nick's compositions (no "Switchboard Susan" or "Indoor Fireworks," regardless of how definitive his versions are), but still delivers the crackling goods. Brit pub-punk-country rock was never better than when Lowe was in his prime, and even if some of your faves are missing, the inclusion of Lowe's contributions to Brinsley Schwartz, Rockpile and Little Village makes up for them. The title references Lowe's recent softer-crooning, somewhat retro-pop which closes out the chronologically compiled 49-track package. Spring for the more expensive DVD enhanced edition to get nine dated but charming '80s-era videos, along with an hour- long 2007 concert that finds Lowe fronting a great band, revisiting and rearranging his older hits in a laid-back but delightfully urbane current style.