Skip to content

Noise Rock

10 FAVORITE ALBUMS OF ALL TIME

(Some Aging Music Lovers Do That LISTING Thing… With Focus)

Hey dude, what’s your favorite album?

Imagine the number of times this topic has come up between music lovers through the years. And now imagine the lively debates every time there is a new “Best Albums of All Time” list from Rolling Stone or Pitchfork or Mojo or Consequence or Pop Matters or the just-published “500 Best Albums of All Time” special issue presented by the British music magazine UNCUT, an issue that I devoured eagerly over the course of a week in February. Music fans love lists… they like to discuss them, MAKE them and talk about why such and such a publication is way off in their choices. But the fact is, it’s entirely subjective, right? One person’s opinion is just that, an OPINION. And for the purposes of this article, we are making an important distinction. When you start arguing about the BEST albums of all time or the most INFLUENTIAL albums of all time, that becomes a pop culture exercise that requires knowledge and context and respect for “critical consensus” that puts everything in a weightier framework than the much simpler “favorite albums.” There are entire books and endless “special issues” that direct you to “100 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die” or the simple Uncut approach mentioned above, if you want to get an appraisal of what the critics say are the very best musical recordings ever. But there is something FREEING and non-controversial about simply saying “these are my personal favorite albums.” And my hunch is that most serious music lovers would delight at the chance to go down that particular road. So we are doing it here. Seven of us very serious music fans, all but one either approaching 60 or beyond it, have contributed to this article to simply say “THESE are the albums that have meant the most to me overall, and here’s why.” With all the music that has been released through the years, WHY do certain albums make our personal lists? I think it’s a worthy question, and we all hope you readers out there will find this piece a stimulating read. What do YOU like most, fellow music fans? Maybe the following lists will inspire some reflection.

A word about formatting: You’ll notice that the way albums are listed varies from participant to participant. Sometimes the Top 10 appears in order from 1 to 10, sometimes it is reversed, to provide for a sort of “conceptual suspense,” and sometimes no numbers appear at all. In each case this is by preference of the writer, and is indicative of nothing more than the “aesthetic” of taking on an assignment like this. As with everyone out there who listens to music, sometimes one finds it easy to make a “Top 10” list, and sometimes one just CHOOSES from a wide range of possibilities, and the sequence doesn’t particularly matter. It’s all part of the game, right? (KR)

KEVIN RENICK

(1) Ephemera Norway: MONOLOVE Sometimes we develop an intimate relationship with a particular album, almost like it is a divine lover or something, and over the course of 20 years, I sure did that with this Norwegian girl trio’s fifth album. Blissful emotive pop music that is filled with empathy, contemplation and exquisite singing and arrangements, this album still has the unique ability to instantly change my mood whenever I play it, and to give me a better perspective on life. And with peerless songs like “Chaos,” “On the Surface,” “City Lights” and the wildly inventive “Dead Against the Plan,” MONOLOVE has soundtracked my spirit-in-motion more than almost anything else ever released. A Nordic masterpiece, the apex of Ephemera’s singular career, and a sonic lover I can never quit.

(2) The Beatles: REVOLVER At the time it was released, I would NOT have been able to articulate why this fabs’ album was so much better than what had come before. But the concept of the ALBUM had evolved…the notion that a group of songs could hold together as a musical statement, and immerse you in every detail that the group served up. Hearing songs like “And Your Bird Can Sing,” “Good Day Sunshine”, “Here, There and Everywhere” and the revelatory “Tomorrow Never Knows” was startling and unforgettable for those of us hearing this music at the time. The Beatles knew that music was evolving rapidly, and they wanted to take us down a new road that was bound for the unknown.

(3) Simon and Garfunkel: BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER I spent many watershed moments listening to these guys in my formative years, and honestly, this was just a pivotal album in my life. Impeccably recorded and produced, the obvious climax to the duo’s partnership, what was fascinating about this album was how diverse and quirky it was. You got the Peruvian-styled “El Condor Pasa,” the percussion-laced “Cecilia” (made more significant for me when I dated a girl actually NAMED Cecilia; we sang along to it together one glorious drunken night in college) and the weird and offbeat “Why Don’t You Write Me,” all sharing space on a powerhouse album that was anchored by the timeless title track and “The Boxer.” A true classic, and without doubt one of the greatest LPs of all time.

 

(4) Nick Drake: FIVE LEAVES LEFT I’ll never be at a loss to say things about the great Nick Drake. A young and overtly melancholy British tunesmith who sadly didn’t live long enough to see how big his influence would become, Nick saw deep into the wells of life, love, solitude and emotion and was able to get that depth into his haunting songs, such as “River Man,” “Fruit Tree”, “Time Has Told Me” and “Three Hours.” Those who know Nick’s music cannot forget it, and are happy to talk about it any old time. Peerless ruminations on the challenge of being a feeling human.

(5) Joni Mitchell: HEJIRA So much can be said about Joni Mitchell’s powerhouse songwriting, and I’ve said a lot of it myself. But this album in particular had enduring resonance for me, as it managed to soundtrack the notion of travel as a path to self-discovery, loneliness as a thing to acknowledge at all times, and, more personally, a yearning relationship with a lovely girl in Wisconsin (where the album’s photography was done) as a catalyst for thinking more deeply about life in general. Utterly masterful songwriting and sonic ambience, with little bonuses like Neil Young’s greatest harmonica playing (on “Furry Sings the Blues”), Jaco Pastorius’ inventive bass playing and transfixing lyrics about maps in service stations (“Refuge of the Road”), Amelia Earhart’s possible musings and comparisons to old friends’ lives (“Song For Sharon”) spurring Joni to some of her all-time best songwriting.

(6) Brian Eno: ON LAND I was predisposed to like ambient music early on, as I was effortlessly moved by sonics that evoked the mysteries of nature, and the utter loneliness of REALITY itself, which ambient music was a soundtrack for. Eno’s unconventionally composed ambient masterpiece was an absolute revelation for me, a journey straight into the heart of wilderness in all its complexity that caused me to write to the musician one fateful day in 1982 and essentially pour my heart out to him about my astonishment over his work. He responded enthusiastically, and it was one of the most magical moments in my entire life.

(7) Talking Heads: REMAIN IN LIGHT In the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, music was changing rapidly and all sorts of remarkable innovations were happening with the young enthusiastic groups that were electrifying the scene at the time. I was a huge fan of New York’s eclectic quartet Talking Heads, and their Eno-produced fourth album REMAIN IN LIGHT was totally original and transfixing. Rhythmically groundbreaking (influenced overtly by African visionary Fela Kuti) and philosophically challenging, this was a very important album for me in my college days and the kind of album that could shift your entire attitude towards art and creativity. It did that for me then, and is still doing it NOW, 45 years later. And “Once In a Lifetime” is one of the key new wave songs of my entire life.

(8) Neil Young: AFTER THE GOLD RUSH/HARVEST I can’t help declaring a TIE between these two legendary Neil albums. Both were pivotal in my life, both made me want to write songs myself, and both saw Neil reaching previously unmatched songwriting heights. I had major experiences with both of these albums, let’s just leave it at that for now. Although I should add that “Tell Me Why,” “Birds,” “Southern Man,” “Out On the Weekend” and “Words” were to become pivotal soundtracks for the lonely teenager I was at the time.

(9) Paul Winter: PRAYER FOR THE WILD THINGS If nature and the concept of WILDERNESS are part of your life, an album like this from Paul Winter is going to affect you. Winter’s concept here was to capture a typical day in the forests of the Colorado Rockies, while combining the actual sounds of the wildlife of that setting and blending them into his musical ensemble, which consisted of cello, brass and evocative strings and percussion. It’s a tribute to the importance of wilderness itself, and a subtle lament for what we are losing as we continue our “progressive” ways in America. Haunting, atmospheric, and 100% organic, this is one of THE most evocative albums of all time when it comes to reminding us of nature’s diversity and importance. It also straddles an interesting intersection between new age, ambient and world music.

(10) Danielson Famile: TELL ANOTHER JOKE AT THE OL’ CHOPPING BLOCK Sometimes if you’re lucky, you wander into a record store when they are playing an album you are simply MEANT to hear. It wasn’t THIS album I heard at Vintage Vinyl back in the ‘90s, but it was definitely this group, a family band with a completely original, high-voiced lead singer who had a few things to say about empathy, awareness and yes, the spiritual component we humans perhaps needed badly. Daniel Smith has one of the highest natural falsettos in the world, and he employs it in this stunningly original Kramer-produced disc to talk about mothers, death, “hungry humans” and the search for spiritual fulfillment. I’ve only made this statement once, EVER, but I am on record as saying that if music THIS original and THIS hypnotic had something to do with promoting the essence of Christianity, then I was willing to go along. If the art makes me feel something overwhelming and magnificent, I will give the message a bit more of my time. There is simply NO ONE else that sounds like the Danielsons, and they instantly make me smile when I hear them… despite NOT being many others’ cup of tea.

Listing “honorable mentions” might be cheating just a tad, but if I were to push past the ten here, I’d include The Who’s TOMMY, Pete Namlook’s AIR II and probably Paul Simon’s debut on my list.

DARREN TRACY

Back in the Mule’s infancy, I started a list called “The 100 Greatest Albums of All Time (According To Me).” I think I actually made it to number 96 (starting at 100) before I got sidetracked. The list still exists and I fully intend to review all 100 of them. There’s a solid core group of records that haven’t changed much since I first created the list, but whenever I think that I’ll kickstart the thing again, I shuffle some things around and replace an album or two with something that I think should be highlighted. Having said that, my Top Ten hasn’t changed at all since I created the original list in 2013. When Kevin suggested this multi-writer excursion, I was excited to see what some other writers would choose (I was fairly certain that I could at least guess the artists – if not the exact albums – that would be on Kevin’s list. I wasn’t far off, by the way) and I definitely wanted to throw my two cents (ten records?) in. I told Kevin that I could virtually guarantee that my list wouldn’t be anything like anybody else’s and that certainly held true (though Dave’s comes as close to my “populace Rocjectivity” as any other here; once Kevin saw my list, he agreed that it was certainly different from what he was expecting). Obviously, for this exercise, I won’t be delving in nearly as deeply as I will when I tackle them for my list of 100 greatest. And, so… without further ado, I humbly submit my` 10 Favorite Albums of All Time:

(1) Alice Cooper: BILLION DOLLAR BABIES Having consumed Alice Cooper’s first five albums, I was primed to be impressed upon the release of the band’s sixth record. And I was! From the opening chords of “Hello Hooray,” it was obvious that BILLION DOLLAR BABIES was special. “Raped and Freezin’,” “Elected,” “Sick Things,” the gender-bending ballad “Mary Ann,” and “I Love the Dead” all hold a special place in my heart (and my twisted psyhce). I mean, seriously, what’s not to love?

(2) The Jam: SOUND AFFECTS The Jam’s Paul Weller had his “angry young man” bonafides on full display on the trio’s early albums – especially IN THE CITY and ALL MOD CONS. But, it was his ability to craft a song that really impressed me. The group’s fourth album, SETTING SONS, featured a somewhat new sound, with great tracks like “Smithers-Jones” and “Private Hell,” but it was record number five, SOUND AFFECTS that saw Weller hit his peek as a songwriter. “Pretty Green” kicks things off in fine fashion; other stand-out tracks include “That’s Entertainment” and “Start!.” Simply stated, this is Weller’s PET SOUNDS or SERGEANT PEPPER’S-like masterpiece. An absolute treat for the ears!

(3) Wishbone Ash: WISHBONE FOUR Not many in my small (okay… tiny) circle of friends give much credence to Wishbone Ash or their recorded output (except maybe a begrudging acknowledgment to ARGUS, this album’s immediate predecessor), particularly WISHBONE FOUR. While there are a couple of flat-out rockers, the album is comprised of what could be called “pastoral” progressive folk rock. While the album as a whole is all prime-cut, I generally prefer listening to side two, which kicks off with the rocker “Doctor,” followed by “Sorrel,” the beautiful “Sing Out the Song” and ending with my all-time favorite Wishbone Ash tune, “Rock ‘n’ Roll Widow.” For me, WISHBONE FOUR stands the test of time far better than ARGUS, but that’s just one man’s opinion.

(4) Emerson, Lake and Palmer: BRAIN SALAD SURGERY This is the album that turned me into an ELP fan. A little over half of the first side is made up of four wildly divergent tunes: “Jerusalem,” the Alberto Ginastera piano concerto “Toccata,” Greg Lake’s tour de force “Still… You Turn Me On” and the giddy dancehall rag of “Benny the Bouncer.” The remainder of the album features a massive suite, in three impressions; clocking in at 29:32, “Karn Evil 9” is a mindblowing example of what these three legendary musicians were capable of together: Carl Palmer was (and still is) a formidable technical machine sitting atop his drum stool; Greg Lake was an impressive bass player with a majestic set of pipes and, he could play a bit of guitar, too; Keith Emerson was doing abusive things to his keyboards and coaxing sounds out of his early-model synthesizer that was a decade ahead of the times.

(5) New York Dolls: IN TOO MUCH TOO SOON As much as the Dolls’ debut record gets high marks for its seemingly haphazard approach and neo-punk aesthetic, I’ve never been a fan of Todd Rundgren’s production on that album. For me, the legendary Shadow Morton, who produced such groups and artists as the Shangri-Las, Janis Ian and Vanilla Fudge, was able to give just the right touch to the boys’ shambolic sound on their second full-length. In my estimation, every track – half originals and half well-chosen covers is a winner. By featuring so many cover tunes, I think that maybe producer Morton saw a way to push the band into a more mainstream, marketable direction without damaging their punky New York roots. Whatever the reason, it obviously worked for me!

(6) Grand Funk Railroad: SURVIVAL Grand Funk Railroad were one of the most reviled bands throughout their original run. Not by the fans, but by the “elite” music press (ROLLING STONE in particular). SURVIVAL was the fourth album released by the Funk in less than two years. Don, Mark and Mel were still hitting on all cylinders, with a great selection of originals and a pair of well-chosen covers. Favorite tracks here are the Don Brewer/Mark Farner tune “I Can Feel Him In the Morning,” a chilling, spiritual number that starts with several children describing God, with the last child’s final words, “And… if you’re good, you’ll live forever. And, if you’re bad, you’ll die when you die,” echoing into the song’s intro. Farner and Brewer share lead vocals on this song, as well as the other highlight, a killer version of the Stones’ “Gimme Shelter.” The other cover, Dave Mason’s “Feelin’ Alright,” is a whole buncha alright, too!

(7) The Sensational Alex Harvey Band: THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM I discovered the Sensational Alex Harvey Band (SAHB) on one of those late night music shows (DON KIRSHNER’S ROCK CONCERT or THE MIDNIGHT SPECIAL) where the band performed “The Hot City Symphony” and their version of Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out.” The next day, I immediately checked for any albums by the group at the local Radio Shack, were I had to special order their latest release, THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM. These guys could (and did) play just about any style of music Imaginable, from hard-driving, melodic pop to oddly progressive jaunts to the adventurous Big Band Swing of “Sergeant Fury,” complete with a Ragtime-style piano break. THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM is unapologetic, unmitigated Rock and Roll bombast by one of Scotland’s finest exports.

(8) Sixteen Horsepower: SACKCLOTH ‘N’ ASHES The major label debut from Denver’s 16 Horsepower, was – if not the first – a very early example of what would become known as Americana music. David Eugene Edwards’ lyrics tended toward the spiritual (his grandfather was a Nazarene preacher), Native American mysticism and Gothic imagery. While the band never veered to far from their roots, over the course of four more studio albums (LOW ESTATE, SECRET SOUTH, HOARSE and FOLKLORE), they did turn into more of a rock group, utilizing standard “rock instrumentation.” SACKCLOTH ‘N’ ASHES found them at the pinnacle of their creative genius. It comes highly recommended by this scribe; have I ever lied to you about this kind of stuff?

(9) Three Dog Night: HARD LABOR Known more for their early ‘70s dominance of the AM radio dial and singles charts, the band’s eighth album, 1974’s HARD LABOR moved into a more Rock and Blues style while maintaining the tight vocal harmonies (though Danny Hutton’s participation was minimal due to a continuing substance addiction) and playing, highlighted – in particular – by drummer Floyd Sneed and guitarist Michael Allsup. Honestly, there isn’t a dud to be found anywhere on this record. If you only know Three Dog Night as a lightweight pop, singles band, HARD LABOR may just change your mind.

(10) Budgie: IN FOR THE KILL This is the first Budgie album I ever owned. Obviously, others followed, including the group’s self-titled debut, which featured the improbably named “Nude Disintegrating Parachutist Woman.” Budgie is the ONLY hard rock trio with a helium-throated bass player you’re likely to hear at the ol’ Tracy homestead. Unlike a certain group of haughty Canuckleheads, these guys never took themselves too seriously. But, if you’re looking for bonafides, Metallica recorded “Crash Course In Brain Surgery” for their EP of covers, THE $5.98 EP – GARAGE DAYS RE-REVISITED. For my money, you can’t go wrong with IN FOR THE KILL, featuring stellar performances by vocalist/bassist Burke Shelley, guitarist Tony Bourge and at-the-time new drummer Pete Boot.

As a consolation prize (and to, hopefully, point you to another list called – what else? – GREAT LIVE ALBUMS), here are my top two picks for favorite live recordings:

(1) Stiff Little Fingers: HANX A single piece of vinyl that captured SLF at the height of their feisty, militaristic Punk best.

(2) The Tubes: WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM LIVE This is one of those “If you know, you know” records. Two records of wicked parody tarted up with great songwriting and musicianship. If you need more proof of the quality of WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM LIVE, future Disney choreographer Kenny Ortega is on hand performing the same for this show; if you listen REAL hard, you may able to hear him groaning at what he had wrought.

STEVE WAGNER

It is said that writing about music is like dancing about architecture. But even knowing we can never convey the power of music with mere words on a page, aficionados write about it as a true form of self-discovery. We arrange our cherished top ten lists with a precision rarely employed in any other endeavor, not (entirely) because we are obsessive-compulsive, but because we sense, at our vibrational core, that our relationship with music is essential to who we are, and who we are becoming.

Parsing a lifetime of rapt listening into only ten favorite albums is impossible without excising huge swaths of music history, setting aside entire beloved genres, ignoring the critical consensus, and braving potential ridicule from peers for serious lapses in taste. That said, this is a list of ten albums that, for me, are perfect. If there was a desert island with my name on it, and pleasepleaseplease let that be the case, these are the ten albums that Wilson and I would be grooving and contemplating to:

(10) The Beach Boys: SMILE The music historian in me could make a strong case that the “album” we envision when we say the name SMILE is the most ambitious, far-reaching in scope, and psychologically layered work of American musical art produced in the last sixty years. But even if this were true, it would not qualify for my list unless the music was as endlessly fascinating as the project’s legendary saga. This is peak creativity from (yes) a musical genius, a fearless and inspired artistic leap of faith for Brian Wilson. For the best “version,” I suggest disc one from THE SMILE SESSIONS. It exhibits brilliance in every melody, lyric, and production flourish, and the total listening experience is like no other in the history of popular music.

(9) The Beatles: REVOLVER I was eleven when I got it. I was stunned. These were the best songs I’d ever heard. The ones I didn’t yet understand – “Love You To,” “Tomorrow Never Knows” – made the experience all the more mystical and extraordinary. As for “Eleanor Rigby,” “Good Day Sunshine,” “Got to Get You Into My Life,” and, most of all, “Here, There, and Everywhere,” well, I just couldn’t believe anything in life could be so breathtakingly beautiful. I’m 64 now, and still utterly in awe of REVOLVER. This was the big leap forward, for the Beatles as a band, and for me as a music lover. It encapsulates everything I love about the Beatles, everything that I love about music.

(8)Derek and the Dominoes: LAYLA AND OTHER LOVE SONGS This double album, which I saved up for and bought at age fifteen exclusively for the song “Layla,” with which I was completely obsessed, was far more crucial than I could have ever imagined. It introduced me to the Blues. I’d been exposed a bit through the Stones and Led Zeppelin, but this album was different, it was just awash in the Blues, crying out in pain from every groove. Even now, after plumbing the depths of the genre for decades, LAYLA AND OTHER LOVE SONGS sounds as authentic, raw, and utterly despairing as any Blues I’ve heard. When I’m feeling bad, I listen to this record. It always makes me feel really, really good.

(7) Lindsey Buckingham: OUT OF THE CRADLE Moving to California from the Midwest was the most challenging transition of my life. OUT OF THE CRADLE came out right before I hit the road, and I listened to it non-stop while driving across the country. With this inspired album as my guide, I was ready to take on the world. It is all about reinvention, rebirth, letting go of the old and welcoming in the new. This album was my musical mantra. With his greatest collection of songs on any record (Fleetwood Mac or otherwise), OUT OF THE CRADLE is Lindsey Buckingham’s reclamation as an artist and zenith as a musician, composer, and producer. I truly needed this album then, and I still do now.

(6) The Moody Blues: DAYS OF FUTURE PASSED Is this Rock’s greatest concept album? I can’t imagine a more universal one. Or a sweeter one. A true innovation of the psychedelic era, DAYS OF FUTURE PASSED is a trippy and reflective romp through 24 hours in the day of an ordinary life. Here, the gently rocking and ethereal mellotron music of the Moody Blues, with stellar compositions from all five members, perfectly complements the lilt and whimsy of Dvorak’s “New World Symphony,” creating a deeply satisfying synthesis of soundscape and song cycle. This album makes me feel grateful to be alive.

(5) kd lang: INVINCIBLE SUMMER kd lang is the greatest singer of my lifetime. I know those are big words, but have you listened to her? She can sing anything. That said, I love her sensual approach to music even more. INVINCIBLE SUMMER is kd at her most confident and uninhibited; she’s positively giddy with love throughout. Her lyrics are dripping with desire but she’s always clear and perceptive, reaching for love’s deeper meaning and expression. The production is pristine and playful, the arrangements sport myriad exotic instruments and futuristic sounds, and kd’s rich, utterly singular voice has never been more joyful. INVINCIBLE SUMMER sounds like how a summer romance feels.

(4) Jeff Beck: BLOW BY BLOW Jeff Beck’s move into jazz fusion in 1975 was a seismic event in the evolution of the guitar. On BLOW BY BLOW, Beck’s melodic instincts and virtuosic playing are perfectly complimented by George Martin’s lush production and Richard Bailey’s expressive drumming, elevating this album into the Music of the Spheres. More than just my favorite album by my favorite guitar player, BLOW BY BLOW is a milestone in my evolution. It opened my mind to jazz, leading to a lifetime of musical exploration and immense listening pleasure. This was when I GOT IT.

(3) Joni Mitchell: COURT AND SPARK I love Joni Mitchell’s discography so much that six of her records were in serious contention for this list, but it always comes back to COURT AND SPARK for me. BLUE may have been more influential, and HEJIRA more intimate, but COURT AND SPARK was the zeitgeist, an immediate classic that captured the spirit of its time distinctively and enduringly. Here, Joni transforms from folk singer to band leader, from songwriter-of-note to major artist and cultural icon. She dives the depths of the divine feminine on this flawless record. From the hopeful romantic of “Help Me,” to the wallflower of “People’s Parties,” the floozy of “Raised on Robbery,” the jilted date of “Car on a Hill,” and most poignantly, the vulnerable lover/yearning everywoman of “The Same Situation,” Joni brings the Goddess to life, a modern woman with an ancient soul.

(2) The Beatles: ABBEY ROAD It’s their most exquisitely produced album. It’s the first in which George’s songwriting truly equals that of John and Paul – both at the peak of their powers. It matches REVOLVER in song quality and PEPPER in conceptual brilliance. Most importantly, ABBEY ROAD’s towering artistic, critical, and commercial achievement, against all odds given their compounding personal issues, elevates the Beatles’ legacy immeasurably. Without it, their dissolution would have been all the more tragic; with it their divine status is assured forever. I love that they found it in themselves to do this, to let music and love prevail. ABBEY ROAD is exhilarating and triumphant, and it’s my favorite Beatles album.

(1) Pink Floyd: DARK SIDE OF THE MOON How is this even an album? It feels more like a continent, a civilization, an epoch. How could anything this vast, this weighty be contained on 12 inches of vinyl? DARK SIDE OF THE MOON plays like an akashic record of ancient wisdom and future prophecy transmuted into sonic vibrations streaming through a cosmic wormhole into the deepest archetypal recesses of the human psyche. It opens with birth and cycles through the concepts of time, sex, money, duality, and insanity before its ultimate cathartic breakthrough – observing our reality with detached perspective and acceptance, in alignment with all that is, in awe of the miracle of creation. Pink Floyd held a mirror to our collective unconscious and found the musical and poetic language to reflect our most essential and universal truth. DARK SIDE OF THE MOON is the most profound album in history, and it’s my favorite album of all time.

My list of honorable mentions is exhaustive: PET SOUNDS, BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER, DUSTY IN MEMPHIS, NILSSON SCHMILSSON, FRAGILE, BLOOD ON THE TRACKS, HEJIRA, THE ROCHES, GHOST IN THE MACHINE, NIGHT AND DAY, and PISCES, AQUARIUS, CAPRICORN AND JONES LIMITED all vied for serious contention.

JIM FORD

Note: My first encounters with these albums dictate this order, and I know that a good twenty other LPs are dying to be included on this list.

The Beatles: SERGEANT PEPPER’S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND This album was my baptism into the lofted world of rock and roll. It allowed me to understand and express how music made me feel about myself, my family, my friends, and society. It enhanced my connection to music, boosted my morale, sparked my creativity, and solidified my worldview.

Phil Ochs: PLEASURES OF THE HARBOR These eight songs are filled with beauty, death, pathos, sadness, and joy, which I was starting to identify and express as a young male in my late teens. Music can change the world; this album changed me.

King Crimson: IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING This album allowed me to be loud, daring, and bombastic, a Doomsday prophet and suspect of what would come. Its cover still evokes mystery and plunder to this day.

Neil Young: EVERYBODY KNOWS THIS IS NOWHERE Although AFTER THE GOLD RUSH is a perfect album with songs that helped me cope with my life and survive college, this album is my favorite. It had a life-changing effect on me and still does to this day. The power, the guts, the noise, the passion, and the extreme and wild emotions, via the clashing of strings and propelling vocals, stroking a young man’s imagination, set my musical journey on its way.

Joni Mitchell: LADIES OF THE CANYON The second time I ever performed in public in the early seventies, I played Joni’s “For Free.” I was a 20-year-old guitar-playing Phil Ochs wannabe, and this album nurtured and propelled me into adulthood.

Steve Wonder: TALKING BOOK This disc is a testament to the power of love. After years of adulating white males as the evangelist of rock and roll, I was ushered into the amazing and vital history of Black songwriters and musicians.

The Moody Blues: SEVENTH SOJOURN Symphonic vibrations, poetic storytelling, mellotron melodies, and musical journeys drift into each other; this recording always lifts me into another world I am grateful to experience.

Dan Fogelberg: SOUVENIRS A dreamer from the mountains of Colorado, blessed with an angelic voice that emits touching and humanistic lyrics, Fogelberg’s music on this album has been part of my mission statement for most of my life. “There’s a light in the midst of your darkness, let it shine!”

Jars of Clay: GOOD MONSTERS This album is about my life, a spiritual reckoning, a lesson in humility, and a call to action.

Amethyst Kiah: STILL + BRIGHT She is young, she is black, she is gay, and I have fallen in love with this album and her vision for our world. She reminds me that not all the great albums were created in the ‘60s and ‘70s! There is still great music to come!

MICHAEL BARTZ

Joni Mitchell: HEJIRA What is left to say except, Joni, you have given me so many hours of pleasure – musically, intellectually, poetically – I want to thank you with my whole being? Well, this: HEJIRA is a cool masterpiece that burns, a beautiful example of the melding of African American and African beats, tones, and rhythms within a unique version of Jazz/Pop and soaring poetry brought to birth by Joni, and bassist Jaco Pastorius. Also, one of the best album covers ever.

The Beatles: REVOLVER Life-changing music for young people of the time. “But listen to the color of your dreams,” Lennon sings in “Tomorrow Never Knows.” “Got to get you into my life!” the cutest kid on the face of the planet with one of the greatest voices ever recorded wails to the sea of totally adoring girls… and boys out there. The so innovative and original use of brass (thank you, George Martin!), the psychedelic overtones, the Eastern tones and instruments, the electronic experiments – all coalesce to create an album at times joyous, at times meditative, at times funny, at times lyrical, but always interesting. Also one of the great covers of the 20th century. Klaus Voormann, a bassist, artist, and friend designed and drew it. The photo on the back of the totally high Fab Four is as charming as it gets.

Bob Dylan: BRINGING IT ALL BACK HOME One moment in an incredible life of music and art; ah, but what a moment! These are the months Dylan “went electric.” This album is the last great, polished, mature, modern-folksinging Bob Dylan before his marvelous evolution, here singing songs that were Folk, Rock, Rap (!), Blues; that were surreal, down home, political, romantic, emotional. Part acoustic, part electric, the album transports the listener from one genre to another effortlessly, and we, for sure, want to go along for the ride. (It was almost impossible for me to choose between BRINGING IT ALL BACK HOME and BLOOD ON THE TRACKS, but I persevered and forced myself!)

Crosby, Stills and Nash: CROSBY, STILLS AND NASH No one alive in the summer of 1969 could miss the advertisements; they were ubiquitous. I never understood why Atlantic Records spent so much money pushing the album. These boys were quite popular in their previous bands, and folks would at least give them a listen when their collaboration emerged. Atlantic must have known what they had. And what was that? Well, a trio of cosmically talented musicians whose voices almost preternaturally blended, and each of whose abilities and work inspired the others. One problem for older lovers of this album is that whenever they listen to it they’re transported back to the late ’60s and early ’70s – the good parts anyway – and get lost in a pleasant haze of nostalgia that brings the day’s work to a halt. Every aspect of this album shows care and professionalism; this on top of the enormous range of tempo, subject, emotion, poetry, great musicianship, and harmony that is exhibited in the songs. Crosby, Stills, and Nash became the benchmark for this kind of music – often identified with California and the famous Laurel Canyon: Serious, loving, narrative driven, confessional, celebrative, youthful – all wrapped in lush harmonies.

Neil Young: AFTER THE GOLD RUSH Okay, call me a wimp. But you’d be WRONG. I absolutely LOVE “the Horse!” I love TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT. “Cortez the Killer” is one of my absolute favorite songs. Really. But, gosh, I do love me a wailful tune with Neil on a dark stage with just a soft spotlight, on guitar and harmonica, or piano. In fact, this is kind of a “piano album.” There’s pianoforte on many of the songs. But it’s also, a harmony album! And solo or with backup, Neil’s young voice – a mixture of baby, teenager, female, male – is totally original and arresting. There are intimate songs, future rockers, prairie (Canada, the Southwest US) inspired visions, and beautiful harmonies. The eponymous “After the Gold Rush” became one of the greatest eco-anthems of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. And the album has one of the greatest erotic songs of the time: “When You Dance, I Can Really Love.” Oh, and another basically black and white cover that is certainly in the top ten!

Karla Bonoff: THE BEST OF KARLA BONOFF: ALL MY LIFE Karla Bonoff, along with Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac and Carole King, is one of the great masters of the modern pop ballad. She has an absolutely seductive voice and gift for melody, in the sense that the listener just wants more – more melodies, more lyrics, more poignancy, more hooks. Bonoff’s hooks are the kind you don’t really mind becoming earworms every once (or more) in a while. You want to keep listening, keep hearing! Along with basic, competent musicians she’s created one masterpiece of a ballad after another in her long career.

Bob Marley and the Wailers: SURVIVAL Composed during the mature development of his musical powers, SURVIVAL showcases Marley as developing politically in radically beautiful ways. Dorothy Day was saying, “Our troubles stem from our acceptance of this filthy, rotten system.” Bob Marley was singing, “Me say de Babylon system is the vampire… Suckin’ the blood of the sufferers.” Reggae was starting to conquer the world and Marley became its face for so many music lovers. He took the rhythms of Reggae and stretched them out with the help of magnificent contributors like Bunny Wailer and bassist Aston “Family Man” Barrett. The album is pure musical visceralness – you can’t not dance, or at least move your body – at the same time your heart and mind are being moved by the lyrics. (It was almost impossible for me to choose among SURVIVAL, EXODUS, and UPRISING, as my favorite. Maybe it came down to the beautiful cover – 48 African flags and an historical etching of the hold of a slave ship – and what it began to teach us about the struggles of Black people historically and the attempts at the liberation of Africa itself.)

The Band: THE BAND There is no Dylan exactly as he is now without the Band. Robbie Robertson and Levon Helm were the central powers, but every member of the group was essential for the success of the music it created. It was such a time of experimentation and growth in popular music. The Band teamed a unique, rootsy quality with Rock ‘n’ Roll, Country, prairie, and electric guitar. The result was an absolutely pleasing, joyful, down-to-earth eclectic sound that was truly original. Dylan recognized their musical insights and their shared origins and thus MUSIC FROM BIG PINK was born. Both the Band and Bob went on to do some good stuff.

Simon and Garfunkel: BOOKENDS Childhood/old age. “ …between the forceps and the stone,” as Joni says. All great artists take on the big life questions at some time and here Paul Simon does so masterfully. It’s an examination of youth and mortality and the journey between. I was 21 years old when BOOKENDS was released, and was absolutely struck – naively, humorously, philosophically, religiously – by the line from “Old Friends”: “ …how terribly strange to be seventy.” It gnawed at my brain and heart for five decades, every time I listened to the album, until I actually was 70 and it’s power and meaning for my life became apparent; something tells me it’s all happenin’ at the Zoo. “America,” of course, is one of the greatest songs of the twentieth century. And, oh yeah, again: a great album in pristine black and white.

The Grateful Dead: WORKINGMAN’S DEAD True, AMERICAN BEAUTY is a masterpiece of California Folk-Rock, Robert Hunter visioned, roots inspired, Jerry Garcia driven music… but WORKINGMAN’S DEAD, which followed close upon, raised the bar in production values, musical exploration, and soul. Its grittiness is its charm. Its mournfulness was a needed antidote to the heavy sweetness of much popular rock at the time. The Dead spent a lot of time in the studio throughout their existence, but were never really satisfied; everyone knows that their live performances, in concert with, grabbing energy from, their audience of adoring followers was where they shone, where they achieved the heights of musical experience. I think WORKINGMAN’S DEAD comes the closest of any studio album to that level of creation. It also has one of the great album covers of the time.

Addendum: I wrestled mightily with the question of whether or not to include the following album – an outlier certainly – but in the end could not really justify dropping any of the above. But I wanted to state that one of my favorite albums of all time, one I’ve been listening to for over 50 years, is FLUTE CONCERTOS OF EIGHTEENTH CENTURY PARIS performed by Jean-Pierre Rampal. A perfect example of late baroque music including one of my favorite instruments, the harpsichord. (Keith Jarrett’s THE KOLN CONCERT and his JS BACH – THE GOLDBERG VARIATIONS are also in the running.)

TED MONIAK

Out of a possible 500 Top Albums, it is impossible to pick 10. Still, these came to mind, in no particular order:

 

Leo Kotke: 6 AND 12-STRING GUITAR I heard this album when I was in my young teens, and it made me want to play guitar, which I then proceeded to do. I think it also made a lot of guitar players throw their guitars out the window.

Miles Davis: BITCHES BREW This album made me want to play music. I never get tired of listening to it. I think it incurred the wrath of traditional Jazz listeners, but it also beguiled Rock and Roll people. It changed music forever.

Robin Trower: BRIDGE OF SIGHS A classic Rock album. People say, uncharitably, that Robin Trower is a Hendrix wannabe, but that’s not true. Trower has his own style, particularly his own approach to songwriting.

King Crimson: LARK’S TONGUES IN ASPIC I only list this particular Crimson album because it was the first of theirs that I ever heard. It doesn’t sound like anything else but the incredible imagination of Robert Fripp. It includes the stunningly beautiful “Book of Saturday.”

The Sex Pistols: NEVER MIND THE BOLLOCKS, HERE’S THE SEX PISTOLS Impossible to explain how much this album meant to a 17-year-old Detroit punk. This was the beginning of punk rock for us, and though we waited impatiently for its US release, making do with a 45 of “God Save the Queen,” this album lived up to ALL the hype.

Pere Ubu: DUB HOUSING In its own way, as much a revelation as the aforementioned Sex Pistols album. Cleveland’s finest musical weirdos produced an album that describes post-industrial despair with, paradoxically, the feeling that you could do anything. Thank you, Crocus Behemoth. (EDITOR’S NOTE: David Thomas, the founding member, lead singer and chief composer of Pere Ubu, passed away on April 23 at the age of 71, a fact noted with sadness by Ted and fellow admirer Kevin. Pere Ubu were leading practitioners of a sort of “avant garde post punk,” and were most active from 1975 to 1982, and then intermittently from 1987 to Thomas’ death. The singer’s unique vocal style was characterized by Emerson Dameron as “James Stewart trapped in an oboe.” Renowned music critic Greil Marcus wrote that “Mr. Thomas’s voice is that of a man muttering in a crowd. You think he’s talking to himself until you realize he’s talking to YOU.”)

Joy Division: CLOSER An alchemical transmutation of lead into gold. No one is unmoved upon hearing this album. I remember listening to it for the first time in a dorm room at college only to be informed, mid-way through, that John Lennon had been killed and that Russia was thinking about invading Poland. This is the theme music to the world already having ended.

Richard and Linda Thompson: SHOOT OUT THE LIGHTS No one plays guitar like RT, and no one sings ‘em like Linda Thompson. The astonishing beauty as a product of a disintegrating marriage. I met their daughter Kammy on a rooftop in North London once. She was very nice.

Nick Drake: BRYTER LAYTER Why this album, when I could have picked almost any of his? It’s just because it’s the one I heard first. It also includes the absolutely breathtaking song “Northern Sky.”

Joni Mitchell: THE HISSING OF SUMMER LAWNS/HEJIRA Now, this is really two separate albums, but I don’t hear them that way. I hear them as bookends, complimentary colors, the summer and winter of Joni Mitchell as she reached maturity. She is in full command of her extraordinary songwriting ability on this pair of recordings. She worked with the finest new Jazz musicians she could find, such as Jaco Pastorius, Larry Carlton, Tom Scott and Victor Feldman. I can’t separate these albums in my mind, and frequently listen to them in order in one sitting. If there were any justice in the world these albums would have gone platinum, but of course, it doesn’t usually work out that way.

DAVE DYER

(1) Kiss: HOTTER THAN HELL Kiss’ second album, produced by Kenny Kerner and Richie Wise, is a nasty, dirty, grungy sounding album, which is why I like it so much! The raw sound and deep bass by Gene Simmons pounds through you on tracks like “Got to Choose,” “Parasite,” “Watchin’ You” and “Strange Ways.” The amazing guitar work by Ace Frehley and Paul Stanley’s vocals are rock and roll genius!

(2) Electric Light Orchestra: DISCOVERY Pure Disco-ish pop sensibility by master songwriter Jeff Lynne. I remember going to the swimming pool with my mom during summer break and hearing songs like “Confusion,” “Shine a Little Love” and “Don’t Bring Me Down” on the jukebox. These are great songs that are part of my Life Soundtrack! All the songs are still as fresh today as they were in ’79. Special mention to “Diary of Horace Wimp.” If the Beatles had stayed together, this might have been what they sounded like at the end of the ‘70s.

(3) Saga: WORLDS APART If you have never listened to Saga, then you are missing something truly special. This album is a Prog masterpiece! From their one hit, “On the Loose” to “Wind Him Up” and “Times Up,” the whole damn album is a musical delight for your ears. Highly recommended!

(4) Cheap Trick: HEAVEN TONIGHT Crank this baby up to “11” and hold on and don’t stop! One of the greatest rock albums of the ‘70s done the Cheap Trick way, with such songs as “Surrender,” “On Top of the World,” “California Man,” and “Stiff Competition.” A true Rock and Roll delight and one HELL of an album that is just “Heaven Tonight!”

(5) Toto: TURN BACK Toto’s third outing was not a big album for them whatsoever and didn’t even spawn a hit for the band, yet I find it to be one of their very best! The songwriting is so strong and infectious, with great tunes such as “Gift With a Golden Gun,” “English Eyes,” “A Million Miles Away,” and “Goodbye Elenore,” just to name a few. From start to finish, it is just an exceptional album by – in my opinion – one of the most underrated bands around.

(6) Dokken: UNDER LOCK AND KEY The first three songs alone are skull crushers… “Unchain the Night,” “The Hunter” and “In My Dreams.” Don Dokken is one of the best metal singers of the 1980s; plus, you’ve got the scorching guitar shredding of George Lynch; now, sprinkle in backing vocals and bass and drums by Jeff Pilson (who is now playing with Foreigner) and Wild Mick Brown, and you’ve got a real metal threat on your hands! The best disc of their short career.

(7) Kansas: VINYL CONFESSIONS At this point in the history of Kansas, Steve Walsh had just left the band and, after the remaining members auditioned over 100 singers, they settled on a young guy by the name of John Elefante. Elefante was a born-again Christian, and meeting Kerry Livgren (who had also just found Christ), they began writing together for VINYL CONFESSIONS. “Play the Game Tonight,” “Right Away,” “Chasing Shadows,” “Windows,” “Play On”” and the rest of the songs all have an underlying religious theme. Though underrated, this is a great album with righteous songs!

(8) Gino Vannelli: NIGHTWALKER With such songs as “I Believe,” “Living Inside Myself,” “Put the Weight on My Shoulders” and the title track, you’ll want to turn the lights down low, pop a bottle of wine, take the hand of your lover and dance the night away! There is no voice more soothing than Gino’s. No joke… this is a beautiful album, written and performed by one of the most underrated songwriters of our time. Simply stunning!

(9) The Fixx: REACH THE BEACH A powerhouse of ‘80s goodness! The Fixx were new on the scene and had a mesmerizing new wave sound that exemplified what the 1980s were all about… sounds you had never heard before, with lots of synth, keyboards and catchy songs with unusual vocals. Among them: “One Thing Leads to Another,” “Sign of Fire,” and “Saved by Zero.” But then, listen to hidden gems like “Reach the Beach,” “Liner,” and “Opinions.” This album will not disappoint! In fact, pick any Fixx album and you’ll find that to be true.

(10) Gary Numan: DANCE One thing about the “Godfather of New Wave” was that he always challenged himself with what new sounds he could mix into the proverbial music pot. DANCEis what he cooked up in 1981, and I consider it to be the most ambitious of his ‘80s offerings. The dark journey begins with “Slow Car to China.” Side Two starts with the greatest of his songs, “She’s Got Claws.” The record ends with the mysterious and haunting “You Are, You Are” and “Moral.” This is a “must check out” album, truly. You can thank me later!

KRISTEEN YOUNG: LIVE AT THE WITCH’S TIT

(SELF-RELEASED; 2017)

Holy crap, where did THIS thing come from? I’ve heard some Kristeen Young stuff before and thought it was unusual and compelling, but this record… whoa, mama! It’s full-on ass-kicking weirdness of the kind I used to revel in at the turn of the millennium. Young has been compared to Kate Bush before (her tendency to favor the higher registers, her unconventional delivery), but she also reminds me of a couple of Scandinavian singers such as Sofia Hardig and an artist whose name escapes me. Point is, there is a focused, melodious quality to Ms Young’s voice that you hear at times, but she is making the case here for high-stakes sonic melodrama. Young is a wild thing, untamed and sometimes scary. She takes a risk in virtually every song, and it’s breathtaking. You don’t hear stuff like this very often. And despite that title, this is NOT a live album. It’s Young’s eighth studio album and, although Tony Visconti is listed as co-producer and he has worked with Young for many years, this album was largely recorded just after David Bowie’s death; Kristeen has said Tony was not around that much. Bowie’s passing and the release of BLACKSTAR affected his availability during the sessions. Guitars growl, the bass lumbers around not necessarily keeping it linear, and Young herself stalks these soundscapes like an utterly fearless musical predator. It’s really quite glorious.

KRISTEEN YOUNG (uncredited photo)

In “You Might Be Ted, But I’m Sylvia,” a title that invites discourse, Young carefully balances some emotive, disciplined singing with a series of loud, boisterous piano octaves. At the one-minute mark, a ferocious sound emerges that sounds at first like it could be an attacking animal, but no, it’s an ominous synth sound distorted to resemble a primitive electric guitar, that bites instead. It’ll take a piece right outta ya if you aren’t prepared. “There’s a chance he might disappear,” the singer tells us, before intoning the song’s title, powerfully, preceded and followed by a hypnotically dissonant piano interval banged over and over, taking you prisoner. You CANNOT remain indifferent to the sound slicing into your ears here. You’ll either find it enthralling, as I did, or you’ll run away with your tail between your legs. “Why Am I a Feelmate” turns up the electronica, and takes things into territory occupied by the Knife (I’d be real surprised if Young was not familiar with Karin Dreijer). The vocal is spooky, partially distorted, and the music seems to celebrate chaos. And yet, Young’s control over this boundary-bashing sound is remarkable. I honestly feel rather inadequate to describe it. It’s thoroughly modern and thoroughly uninterested in anything but its own path. You can follow, yes, but you better stay a few steps behind, or something vicious may chomp into you. “These Are the Things I’m Not the Most” (another fascinating title) reminds me of what might happen if the Residents tried rapping for a bit, except the musical wilderness Young is wandering through here might freak out even the Residents. Yes, I just said that. This is really, truly strange rock music by any normal standard. But it DOES rock, and it does move and it does pulse. And it clubs you over the head sometimes, and it contemplates the universe sometimes, and it steps back with its arms crossed and simply stares at you sometimes. Often, in fact. And you don’t want to look away, cause that would make you a wimp. And you will be, some of you. This will put hairs on your chest, honestly. Or send you crying to Mommy.

KRISTEEN YOUNG (photo credit: TONY VISCONTI)

In “I Love You SOOOO Much,” Young sings “I have always been so alone… everything I say/No one can translate,” probably the album’s most self-revealing lyric. The relatively restrained keyboard and pretty-ish vocal really WANT to walk through the door that says “NORMAL,” but they end up entering the room next door, which is labeled “ACCESSIBLE BUT OFF-KILTER.” Young is just too much of an original spirit, after doing this thing for quite a few years, to settle for anything predictable. An early Eno-evoking guitar solo sees the track out the back door, and suddenly the tune ends. Lordy. “Catland” begins with a child’s voice wanting to coax a sound out of a “kitty cat,” but you just KNOW that kind of cuteness will be short-lived. It is. The song quickly turns into a crazed rocker with tempo and chord changes that the likes of Zappa might have admired. There is no attempt to please the audience here at all, unless you are, like me, in the audience that adores flat-out weird music. The word “challenging” was meant for discs like this. And it goes on and on: “Monkey On My Breast,” “I Know You Are a Coward” (you ARE, by the way, if this record overwhelms you), the short and sarcastic ghostly mini-song that calls itself “Everything About You is Always More Important Than Anything About Me,” which is pretty much the full lyric, uncharacteristically. “Come to the Party” offers another insistent piano track before rubbing your face in all sorts of other sounds. Young seems to be issuing an important psychic missive here, but you may or may not receive it. You are probably already whimpering in the back room by now. But she closes with “Different,” certainly the most obvious adjective that timid listeners will apply to this record. There is real melancholy at work in this song, and as this wildly original artist sings “But I’m different” repeatedly, it’s actually a bit touching. I have no idea in the world how audiences have responded to Kristeen Young in the past, and the fact that she is from Saint Louis has me beaming with pride right now. This record is absolutely fucking KILLER. Except for the newest Low album, there isn’t an album that has made a stronger impression on me this year. It’s insane, it’s fresh, it’s completely unpredictable, it’s weird as hell, and apparently proud to be so. Kristeen, I think I’d be afraid to talk to you in person, but allow me to say, totally sincerely, THANK you. Thanks for kicking every kind of ass in the world and showing that yes, a female singer/songwriter can beat most men when it comes to breaking the well-established rules of the game, and not have to apologize in the slightest. I’m in awe of this record. No, it wasn’t recorded live, but my God, does this thing have an unstoppable LIFE force flowing all through it.

DANIELSON: SNAP OUTTAVIT

(JOYFUL NOISE RECORDINGS; 2018)


Love ’em or hate ’em, Danielson, as they have been called for a while (used to be Danielson Famile), have given the pop world one of the most aggressively original and impossible to ignore musical styles ever conceived. That’s not easy to do, and it has something to do with Daniel Smith’s remarkable falsetto voice (he doesn’t use it ALL the time, but it’s there in abundance on the early albums), the crazily off-kilter arrangements and the blend of sweet sonics (the female members of the troop have light, soothing voices which contrast effectively with Smith’s style) with lyrical wildness. It’s no longer a big deal to talk of Smith’s sincere brand of Christianity; there is literally nothing about that which should influence your response to the music anymore. Smith is after bigger game anyway; he has the instincts of an impassioned art rocker, and the razor-sharp focus of your favorite classic rock singer/songwriter. I have been a fan of Smith’s creation since his family’s masterpiece of a second album, TELL ANOTHER JOKE AT THE OL’ CHOPPING BLOCK. I delighted in hearing the extreme reactions of friends here and there upon encountering this highly original sound. While often challenging and a bit abrasive, I could handle anything Master Smith and company could throw at me. Therefore, it’s a bit odd to report that SNAP OUTTAVIT, a recent five-song Danielson EP, is… accessible. Sorta commercial. Easygoing. There isn’t a single track that would make anyone I know gripe, “Take that off, please!” It’s still original, of course.

The title track features, well, the title, chanted over and over by Smith while his wife Elin and sisters Rachel and Megan sing a contrasting ethereal chorus. It’s kind of strange but definitely not unlistenable. And that weird “chorus,” if you can call it that, stops here and there for a fairly normal verse or two, that sounds like, well, a singer/songwriter with something to say. Whatever that might be. “Dry Goods Dry Power” was released previously on a limited-issue vinyl EP; it’s a catchy, “normal” sounding rocker with a propulsive two-chord structure overall. Sure, there’s an eccentric middle section that has some of Smith’s patented falsetto, but not that much. It certainly is not weird compared to, say “Good News For the Pus Pickers” or “Cutest Li’l Dragon.” By the time you reach “Pendulum Mania” on this disc, you’re sort of WANTING the weirdness, if you’re a dedicated Danielson fan… and this tune mostly delivers. The girls keep singing “Swinging back and forth/Swinging back and forth now,” while Smith goes on about some convoluted topic that moves in a nice non-linear fashion, thematically. This is an imaginative song, and I have no idea what it’s about, but it’s Danielson. I like it!

DANIELSON (David Smith, Elin Smith, Rachel Galloway, Andrew Smith, Daniel Smith, Megan Slaboda) (publicity photo)

Then we get to “On Purpose,” the first song to break the five-minute mark. Here, Smith does a thing he does so well and that I used to dream about doing in a studio myself: chanting a commonly used phrase over and over, in this case, “What do you know?” It’s eminently listenable, beginning with subtle marimba and a surging background sound before that repeat phrase kicks in. Yeah! Best song here, methinks. The structural ambition of Smith’s songs is really a thing to behold, and this’un shows it quite nicely. But again, it’s not abrasive. It won’t drive anyone from the room. In fact, I can imagine some favorable “Hey, what are you playing right now?” type responses. “Who Hears Twell Van Dunder” is the kind of bizarro Danielson title that every album features examples of: What you get here is spoken voices saying things like “So happy to see you” and “Been thinking of you” and tingly marimba notes, before a childlike melody kicks in. I’m betting the children’s voices belong to Danielson offspring, and that everyone had a good time recording this gently ruminative little number. This is family music, all right. But not the family you know down the street. It’s the very talented, very original Danielson family, Mister. They play music. They sing combinations of things you’ve never heard before. They are passionate, driven and in love with life. And even if this modest little disc doesn’t truly blaze new trails, it’s a nice little reminder that one of the most original acts in pop is still out there, doing their thing. It’ll do fine until and if, Smith feels like launching another wacky full-length into the sonic universe. If you’ve never given Danielson a chance before, well, this might be a good time to “snap outtavit.”

ABJECTION RITUAL: SOUL OF RUIN, BODY OF FILTH

(MALIGNANT RECORDS; 2018)

I am the type of person that likes to thoroughly research any artist that I write about, mentioning each band member and any guest musician’s contribution to the particular recording up for review. Finding ANY information about Abjection Ritual is like collecting hen’s teeth. However, after much scouring of various online data bases, I was able to identify the man behind the sounds. Now, after some soul-searching, I have decided that if this gentleman has gone to such extremes to keep his identity a mystery, I won’t blow it for him here. Suffice to say, the man is genuinely disturbed… the kind of disturbed that all true geniuses seem to share. These are the men and women who create the most adventurous and thought-provoking music, movies, literature, art… each a statement on the world, its populace or, indeed, the inner machinations of the creator of said piece. So… with that out of the way, let’s take a look at SOUL OF RUIN, BODY OF FILTH, the fourth overall release from Abjection Ritual and second for Malignant Records.

ABJECTION RITUAL (publicity photo)

Previous Abjection Ritual releases have tended toward a kind of synthesized industrial metal. SOUL OF RUIN… sees the now-duo moving in a more organic direction, introducing guitar, bass and a live drummer into the mix of industrial ambience and heavy electronics. “Lamentations” is the shortest piece on the album, a droning dirge of an introduction with haunting female… uh… well, “Lamentations” leads right into “Body of Filth.” Tribal drums, eardrum-piercing feedback and an assortment of other evil sounding instrumentation replaces the hypnotic droning of the intro. Screamed male vocals are introduced before the whole thing devolves into a hive of noise, buzzing toward an unresolved terminus. “Blood Mother” is a sinister, Dio-era Sabbath wall of doom and gloom highlighted by ridiculously heavy riffs and ponderous drums. The middle section – a stinging, horror movie soundtrack – features a female voice (Rennie Resmini) and odd sci-fi sound effects before returning to the ominous bass grind of the track’s central theme. Hoarse, sore-throat inducing vocals plead and exhort, delivering what I must assume is the desired queasy effect. Author Christopher Ropes delivers a spoken word intro to “Deathbed Conversion.” The best analogy I can come up with regarding this one is that it sounds like the gates of Hell opening, inviting in the soul of a dying man. The lyrics are virtually vomited out, either Satan or the tortured soul seeking redemption (or condemnation). I’m not too sure about the conversion, but if the next song, “Ruin,” is any indication, things did not go well. The tone is oddly brighter, with a synthesized orchestra (or, is that a chorus?) seemingly offering light to the aura, if not the soul, of the entire record. Even so, the track features some crushingly heavy guitar and two guttural voices manage to give the tune and even more chaotic sound than the first half of the record. A lone voice, almost plaintive, dominates the second half grind.

“Carnassial Passage” is a kind of throbbing fever dream that somehow brings to mind the classic Alice Cooper tune, “Unfinished Sweet.” That may have more to do with the song title and the creepy drills that keep intruding into the mix. I feel fairly certain that this one would probably give even the Cooper boys nightmares. And that, friends, is a high compliment to the damaged minds behind the tune. The album ends with the nine-minute-plus magnum opus, “Old Sins.” It’s a slow descent into madness with heavily fuzzed-out guitar and bass with screamed vocals before the painful squall of a guitar’s feedback jolts you awake like electroshock therapy gone horribly wrong. Oddly effective and provocative, the minimalist drums make the cut intensely claustrophobic, forcing the listener into an unwelcome introspective haze. And we’re just a little more than halfway in; a more traditional approach is introduced at about 5:15 in, with a somewhat standard chord progression from the bass and Fripp-like sonic sweeps of guitar. Seemingly just out of listening range is what sounds like a psychotherapy session taking place. Taken by itself, “Old Sins” is a most effective and utterly disturbing piece of music; taken as a solitary piece of a larger construct, it seems to be the final abandonment of all hope, the dissolution of the final thread of sanity. The emotional turmoil that the song elicits, the journey we are forced to embark upon is exactly the desired effect that Abjection Ritual was aiming for. All good music, literature, art has the ability to lead its audience down a path that will generate a certain visceral reaction from said audience; SOUL OF RUIN, BODY OF FILTH as a whole and, particularly, “Old Sins” by itself does exactly that. I was mentally drained from the experience and, just maybe, a different person for having had that experience. That is the kind of art that one rarely experiences nowadays.

ADRIAN AARDVARK: DYING OPTIMISTICALLY

(EPIFO MUSIC; 2018)

Upon first seeing the name, Adrian Aardvark seemed to me a devouring angel, an agent of the bleakest of Black Metals. Nah… just kidding. In fact, I wasn’t sure what to expect from this album but, I gotta say, it isn’t at all like anything else I’ve heard before… not even close! I mean, it looks and smells like a rock and roll record, spliced with a fair amount of Americana and not a little bit of angst. Even so, my initial thoughts were leaning toward “Ah! Someone’s rich father has bought studio time for his son and his friends to record an album. Kinda like the Shags, woefully untalented but determined to become a band.” After a couple of songs, however, I began to warm up to, even appreciate, what this motley crew were attempting to convey. Oddly enough, while researching the band for this piece, I was amazed to discover that DYING OPTIMISTICALLY is the group’s seventh release since 2008 (and the first since BONES POSITIVE, an EP released in 2014)! I cannot honestly conceive of how I could have missed anything for the last ten years called Adrian Aardvark, though I am now old enough that such things do escape me upon occasion. Anyway, on to the review…

ADRIAN AARDVARK (Daz Bird, Shannon Stott-Rigsbee, Catherine Harrison-Wurster, Christopher Stott-Rigsbee) (photo credit: JERRY CADIEUX)

The first thing that you notice on “Just Us” is alluded to in rather veiled terms up above: Everything (wait… make that EVERYTHING) seems woefully out of tune, with the singer, Christopher Stott-Rigsbee, sounding alarmingly like a drunken karaoke enthusiast. Somewhere around the two minute mark, things almost come together, as a fuzzy bass (or, is it a cello?), insistent drumming and the scraping of a violin keep the thing from totally going over the cliff. Bonus points for – unlike the short prelude/introduction/tune-up that starts the song off – everything ending together. “If Only” definitely sounds like a drunken lament to a litany of “what if’s” in a relationship gone very wrong. Stott-Rigsbee lists his transgressions before admitting, “Yes, I am ashamed of my insecurities/Yes, I am ashamed of my stupid feelings.” Here, the music kinda sounds more in tune and of one mind, occupying a certain feedback/drone frequency that is not unappealing. In fact, the discordant buzz of the whole mess is really starting to grow on me. The cello takes a more prominent spot on “Peace In a Loving Way,” with Shannon Stott-Rigsbee droning away masterfully. The lyrics seem as though they are wedged into a melody that is simply too small to adequately contain them; try, for instance, to fit the first verse into any standard rock format without breaking your tongue: “Through updates, versions and brand new postages/The letters inside remain the same as they travel to/You through signals unseen, speaking words/Floating like waves whisper your way.” It ain’t easy. Even so, at less than two-and-a-half minutes, it feels like you’re in and out almost before you realize that the sound – and, in fact, the entire record – is actually becoming, not only palatable but, begrudgingly enjoyable, as well. The bizarrely-titled “Young Pharaohs and Horses” comes with an equally bizarre video… as it should! Drummer Daz Bard adds a bit of trombone to the proceedings, with Shannon chiming in with a scratchy (whinnying?) violin part; the weird, out-of-place gang vocals, like just about everything else on this album, are no doubt added to merely muddle the lyrical issue. Four songs in and Christopher is starting to come across as more of a true musical genius, as opposed to the offspring of a wealthy Daddy Warbucks type bankrolling his kid’s musical aspirations. “I Don’t Wanna Love No More” is a step back for me. It isn’t necessarily that the sentiments aren’t spot-on in a society of individuals struggling to find their place but, the acapella (aside from three drum rolls somewhere in the middle) delivery – impassioned as it is – just doesn’t do it for me. “Little Girl,” however, is a completely different beast. Despite some rather questionable lyrics: “I am a little girl in a big big world/My dress so clean and my hair is curled” and “Don’t you want to ride with me/Don’t you want to sleep with me” (allusions to Christopher Stott-Rigsbee’s… uh… fluid sexual identity, I know, but… still… ), this is the most fully realized, hardest rocking and most in-tune song so far. A throbbing bass line (Catherine Harrison-Wurster… on the upright, no less) and a frantic vocal performance from Christopher highlight the number.

Creaky Wooden Floor” opens the second half – continuing the strong showing from “Little Girl” – with more weird metaphorical (metaphysical?) lyrics about beets and elephants. The song is pretty nifty, in a New Country kind of way and is delivered, like the previous four tracks, in a short, punk rock fashion. On “Get Gotten,” a chunky guitar riff rides along for a spell before being joined by a very nice violin part; the unmelodic, unnerving howls of Stott-Rigsbee deliver quite an impressive effect. Somewhere about two minutes in, the whole thing shifts gears amidst a beautifully shambolic break before completely collapsing in upon itself at the end. I may have just crowned a new favorite track! There is an insistent hint of didgeridoo (a masterfully understated performance by Christopher) throughout “Horny Wildebeast,” which seems perfectly natural given the song’s title. After a rather rambunctious start, the final four minutes or so seem to settle into a nice mid-tempo with – dare I say? – quietly elegant violin and cello dancing over the top. “Oo Ra Ra” and “The Sun” form a sort of intermingled couplet, with melody, choruses and chanting kinda running through the two-as-one pieces (or, piece, as the case may be). The former is a surprisingly melodic bit of falderol with lyrics somehow befitting the proceedings, such as “Put down the knife, we don’t have to fight/We can make love till morning’s light.” The number eventually devolves into the type of musical chants that the “natives” in all of those old Johnny Weissmuller movies are so fond of. “The Sun” blasts forth from that, a forceful, blistering piece of noise of the type I find so appealing. The lyrics here tend to lean toward a rather cogent warning from everybody’s favorite ball of light: “Feel my heat/Feel the cancer/You can’t be given life/Without being given death.” Oh, Sun, you’re such a kidder! A cool, unexpected blast of the Blues, filtered through various other styles of what has generally become known as “Americana” may, at a mere five-and-a-quarter minutes, prove “Misery Shaker” to be Adrian Aardvark’s magnum opus. Time changes and style shifts glide together seamlessly, held together by the superior percussive efforts of Daz Bird.

ADRIAN AARDVARK (Christopher Stott-Rigsbee, Catherine Harrison-Wurster, Daz Bird, Shannon Stott-Rigsbee) (uncredited photo)

As mentioned at the outset, I was totally unprepared for the musical onslaught of Adrian Aardvark and was, initially, taken aback by the complete atonality of the first track but… I must say that I have been richly rewarded by sticking with the program, seeing it through to its brilliant climax. Heck, I may just have to revisit the group’s Bandcamp page and listen to their other releases… after I’ve rested up a bit from this DYING OPTIMISTICALLY experience.

THE OXFORD COMA: PARIS IS MINE

(SELF RELEASED; 2015)

ParisIsMine

The Oxford Coma (only one “m”) is a Phoenix three-piece (I suppose we could call them a “power trio”) that has alternately been described as “psychedelic anxiety rock” or “the world’s heaviest jam band.” Call them what you will… I rather prefer “math genius metal.” A few seconds into “Canadian Question Mark,” the opening cut of the self-released PARIS IS MINE, it is obvious (to these ears, anyway) that this is something exceptional. The song, a sort of progressive hard rock instrumental affair (if there are vocals, they are minimal and buried deep in the mix), features a nice mid-tempo groove, with oddly appealing dissonant guitars and a humongous, thudding bass. Though the guitars sometimes sound as if the track is about to explode in a flurry of speed, the rhythm section remains solid. On “Ritaling,” James Williams offers a very punk rock kind of a bass line, while the vocals and guitars have a distinct mid-’90s Kansas City sound (think Season To Risk). There’s a heavier-than-the-rest section with a certain Tony Iommi-like heaviness in Billy Tegethoff’s guitar; the second half of the tune is sort of creepy, with great atmospheric work from Tegethoff. “Daisies” is trippy and psychedelic, with a chukka-chukka kind of rhythm guitar thing and near-Residents like vocal outbursts (Tegethoff and Williams are both credited as vocalists, but who sings what isn‘t listed). Once again, the bass and drums (the latter supplied by Patrick Williams) border on minimalist, leaving the almighty riff to do most of the heavy lifting. This isn’t metal, but it is suffocatingly heavy and there’s a great wah-infused solo at the end that is hard to ignore.

The Oxford Coma (Billy Tegethoff, Patrick Williams, James Williams) (publicity photo)
The Oxford Coma (Billy Tegethoff, Patrick Williams, James Williams) (publicity photo)

The Pulls” is propelled by heavier-than-thou bass and some understated (though still powerful) drumming, allowing for some excellent guitar and haunting vocals to hover just above the surface, giving the tune a demon-spawn sound akin to the offspring of some 1970s hard rock band and Stone Temple Pilots, circa their first three records. The next track, “Ados Watts Jam,” is exactly what the name implies: A jam. Clocking in at a robust ten-and-a-half minutes, the KC/Season To Risk comparisons find their way back into the conversation, with bullhorn vocals crawling just above the mix. There are also a couple of jazzy, Sabbath-esque breaks leading into the final, improvisational section of the tune, all of which proved to be quite entertaining. Even if the song doesn’t exactly fall into the “jam band” category, it is a stretch on the group’s standard song structure. The final track is well-known to rockers and blues aficionados the world over: “When the Levee Breaks,” The Oxford Coma’s version manages to out-heavy the Led Zeppelin version, with Patrick’s nearly ham-fisted Bonham-esque skin pounding and a massive guitar sound. This version is as far from Zeppelin’s version as their version was from the 1929 original by Kansas Joe McCoy and his wife, Memphis Minnie Lawlers. You can listen to (and purchase) PARIS IS MINE, as well as earlier releases, at the group’s Bandcamp page. You will not be disappointed! And, if you are… you need to acquire better taste in music.

INSECT ARK: PORTAL/WELL

(Autumnsongs Records; 2015)

insect-ark-portal-well

For many years, I’ve worn it as a badge of pride that I was almost always the one, at whatever publication I wrote for, to champion the weirdest, darkest, most challenging music the publication received. I developed an interest in ambient and experimental music quite early, and although I don’t just automatically like things BECAUSE they are weird and dark, I sure can tell when a creative aesthetic is at work, and when the practitioners CARE what they are doing. There is no doubt that Insect Ark mean it, man. This PORTAL/WELL release, their debut, is a stunning journey to places most folks just won’t go. We’re talking serious, concentrated creepy atmospherics, a sonic template where drones exist at a frequency outside the comfort zone and metallic sounds emanating from a dark urban alley may be from a decaying structure trying to return to its original nature or from the titular “portal” to some very threatening subterranean place. And also, something WICKED this way DRUMS… the pounding, ominous percussion here on tracks like “The Collector” (I would NOT wanna know what he collects!) and “Octavia,” though played by a human being named Ashley Spungin, does NOT represent the sound of physical release, It simply is not the rhythm of anything but perhaps a tortured psyche. Spungin isn’t the auteur here, though. Remarkably, Insect Ark is almost entirely the vision of a woman, a remarkable female composer/multi-instrumentalist named Dana Schechter. Her past music includes the more luminous Bee and Flower project, and she is an animator and video artist working in the film business.

Insect Ark (Dana Schechter) (photo credit: LAUREN BILANKO)
Insect Ark (Dana Schechter) (photo credit: LAUREN BILANKO)

I can only guess Schechter’s reasons for making such unsettling, alien music. She’s probably heard some records by Lustmord and Nurse With Wound, or who knows, maybe she is working through her own inner demons with this stuff. The Insect Ark website helpfully relates: “Creating a personal soundtrack to the human psyche’s underbelly, Insect Ark weaves a brooding textural landscape, a starless night spiked with light and flash.” Yeah, THAT! Gosh, I am not seeing much light, though. “Portal” and “Parallel Twins” could be soundtracks for a modern horror film, something by a European director, perhaps, who pushes the envelope too far. Life is NOT a safe, fun thing as expressed in this music. And yet, there are moments of eerie, spellbinding ambient beauty, as on the haunting “Low Moon,” which fully falls into the genre category of “dark ambient” and probably bests a few male composers of that style in its purity. Not to put too fine an oh so sharp point ON it, but we’re not used to hearing women make music like this. It’s potent, scary and damn self-assured. Insect Ark do NOT want you to sleep comfortably or, in fact, to draw too much inspiration from the beauty of life when there’s plenty of nightmarish stuff also deserving of your attention. But still, this is only a record in the end. A vital, off-center, somewhat unhinged soundtrack to stumbling through the darkness in dangerous times. I admire what Insect Ark have conjured. It’s got a good “buzz” and you can TRANCE to it…

ACID KAT ‘ZINE FOURTH ANNIVERSARY SHOW: THE COWBOYS/SODA BOYS/WRAY/THOSE JERKS/TUBBY TOM

(February 13, 2016; FOAM, Saint Louis MO)

Carlos relaxing in the Foam lounge (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)
Carlos relaxing in the Foam lounge (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

I’ve been to Foam exactly twice now; the first time was for an interview with Beth Bombara and, now, for this show. Wray, the evening’s headliners (even though they eventually went on third of five acts), and I arrived at approximately the same time (6:00 PM), due to the venue’s web-site giving the start time as 8:00 PM (or, 8:30 per the Facebook page for ACID KAT ‘ZINE). Around about 10, the sound guy/bartender told someone that it was probably time to start the show; fifteen minutes later, rapper/performance artist (and AK’Z contributor) Tubby Tom began a bizarre set that we’ll discuss shortly. Foam is a very cool place, with a great vibe, friendly staff and really good coffee but, if this is a standard occurrence, they’ve really got to rein in these acts (especially the locals) and keep things tight, on schedule and moving along. So, anyway, having arrived early, I had the pleasure of hanging out with a young Hip-Hop artist named Carlos (see above photo). It’s really cool to see someone so passionate about music… not only his own work, but just music in general; I mean, that’s why I started writing more than twenty years ago… a passion for music. Carlos may or may not have what it takes to get to the next level or to be a huge star but, I certainly heard enough to tell you that I am looking forward to seeing and hearing more from this young man somewhere down the line.

Tubby Tom (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Tubby Tom (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

Performing a patently odd style of Hip-Hop over old Disco, Soul and pop records, avant-garde rapper Tubby Tom’s set seemed to be,,, uh,,, divisive. The material proved to be particularly well received by a small contingency of female revelers, while a smaller contingency of patrons merely decided to visit the rest rooms of to step outside for a smoke. Most of the tunes were kinda dorky little ditties about lust, love found and love lost. However, the very short set ended with a very compelling piece; the tale of kidnap, abuse and eventual escape was as urgent and claustrophobic as the scenario implies. By any musical standards, the song, with a distinct Gothic horror feel, was a brilliant use of lyrical imagery and a stifling musical bed to add to the emotional chaos. I gotta admit, I was rather ambivalent about most of Tubby Tom’s set… that final, extended dose of weird definitely upped my estimation of the man’s talents. I have no idea if any of this material is available in any recorded form (or if they are merely spur-of-the-moment fever dreams) but, if they are, they’re well worth checking out.

Those Jerks (Tornado Tommy and Terrible Tony; Nasty Jordan; Terrible Tony) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Those Jerks (Tornado Tommy and Terrible Tony; Nasty Jordan; Terrible Tony) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

According to advance promotions, Freeburg Illinois noisemongers Dem Scientist was scheduled to play their final show as part of this bill; I have no idea what happened but, they were replaced by an apparently thrown-together three-piece who, when I asked their name after the show, decided that Those Jerks worked as well as any… after much Stooges-like (of the Moe, Larry and Curly variety, not the Iggy and the… type) debate. The band also came up with the rather descriptive personal sobriquets of Nasty Jordan, Tornado Tommy and Terrible Tony. Given the tight confines of the Foam stage, the guys set up on the dance floor, with drummer Tommy facing the stage and the others, hanging close to the stage, facing each other. Their music – a combination of barely formed originals and impossibly obscure covers – was a rambling, shambolic skree of fast and loose old school punk; in short, Those Jerks’ set was the virtual epitome of dumb, stupid fun. And, we all know that there just ain’t near enough of that sorta thing in the world today.

Wray (David Brown; Blake Wimberly; David Swatzell) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Wray (David Brown; Blake Wimberly; David Swatzell) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

Unbeknownst to me (and, probably, the listening public at large), there is a burgeoning experimental music enclave in the unlikeliest of places: Birmingham, Alabama. Sure, I’d heard of (and listened to) Through the Sparks, Wray and, of course, Communicating Vessels (the label home of both) founder Jeffrey Cain’s group, Remy Zero (not from Birmingham, by the way, but the connection is valid), but… you really don’t envision this type of Eurocentric music to come out of Alabama. Wray plays an unrepentantly jangly, gauzy type of shoegazing elegantia, with throbbing bass, powerful drums, layered, effects-laden guitar and, hovering above it all, wispy, nearly whispered vocals; with a visual presentation (actually, a series of images and visual stimuli created – or chosen – by the band to augment each song) that is as mind-bendingly beautiful as the music, their show is a multimedia tour de force. Bassist and primary lyricist David Brown handled most of the vocals, while guitarist David Swatzell was content to build soaring layers of sonic Nirvana, adding the occasional backing vocal or a short, atmospheric lead with a voice as ethereal as Brown’s. Blake Wimberly followed where the music led, sometimes diverging from any type of standard time-keeping percussion but always bringing his playing back around to the rhythmic thread, all of which contributed to the hypnotic vibe of the song (most of which were from of the band’s latest release, HYPATIA). A highlight of the set was the group’s subtle, amazing cover of Faust’s Krautrock classic, “Jennifer.” Unfortunately, with the late start, rearranged order and other variables, Wray’s set was woefully short (somewhere around thirty minutes), but, without question, the highlight of the evening.

Soda Boys (Austin Nitsua; Jordy Shearer; Austin Nitsua) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Soda Boys (Austin Nitsua; Jordy Shearer; Austin Nitsua) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

Like Those Jerks, Soda Boys play fast and loud; it’s punk, if tinged with a defiant dose of pop and a distinct Saint Louis flavor. Local scenester and founder of ACID KAT ‘ZINE, Austin Nitsua, is the band’s guiding light, a genial spaz in a Steak ‘n’ Shake paper hat, shouting lyrics over bass-heavy tunes like “Creamy Soda,” “Burgers and Fries” and the coulda-been-a-hit-in-another-era “Soda Girl.” These Boys (especially Nitsua) ran, jumped and rolled around the floor in a punk rock frenzy, obviously enjoying their set as much as the dwindling audience. Unfortunately, the only other band member I was able to identify was drummer Jordy Shearer, who somewhat reminded me of the late, great Tommy Erdelyi, the original skin-beater of the Ramones; as with Shearer, the unidentified guitarist and bassist more than held their own, but this show was unquestionably all about their charismatic (enigmatic?) singer, Austin Nitsua.

The Cowboys (Zackery Worcel; Jordan Tarantino; Mark McWhirter) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
The Cowboys (Zackery Worcel; Jordan Tarantino; Mark McWhirter) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

The Cowboys, from Bloomington Indiana, may have been the closest thing to a rock band playing on this Saturday. Their music is equal parts hard rock, psychedelia, punk rock and echo-drenched Rockabilly, delivered with an alcohol-fueled zeal. Celebrating the release of a compilation of the best material from their three cassette-only releases, the group – led by main songwriter and vocalist Keith Harman – charged through a set of tunes that included “Thumbs,” the trippy, late ’60s psychedelic groove of “Aqua Marine Love Machine” and the loopy hillbilly punk of “Cool Beans and Godspeed,” which featured some cool effects from guitarist Mark McWhirter. McWhirter proved himself adept at a variety of styles, including the riff-filled Buddy Holly inspired “Cindy Lou” and a fuzzy, screeching solo on “Creature of the Deep.” The rhythm section of Zackery Worcel on bass (and backing vocals) and drummer Jordan Tarantino were suitably sloppy while somehow managing to stay in the pocket throughout the night. Yeah, the night started off in a somewhat suspect manner, but the folks who stayed around for the finish were treated to a fun – if occasionally disjointed – evening of musical diversity.

KOWLOON WALLED CITY: GRIEVANCES

(NEUROT RECORDINGS/GILEAD MEDIA; 2015)

kwc_grievances_hi-rez

As with most releases from Neurot Recordings, the words bleak, oppressive and challenging come to mind when describing GRIEVANCES, Kowloon Walled City’s third full-length and first for the label (the vinyl version is released through Gilead Media). The band’s mastermind, vocalist and guitarist Scott Evans has created as suffocatingly heavy a sound as any I’ve heard in a good little bit, with a biting narrative relating the hard-scrabble life of a working stiff just trying to get by (forget about getting ahead). On “Your Best Years,” a molasses slow groove underpins Evans’ strained voice as he laments “They’ll cut you down to count the rings/Measure out your worst years.” As the song nearly grinds to a stop in the middle section, we are presented with a great, droning solo. Somehow, through all of the gloom and despair, there’s an underlying sense that this guy is gonna beat the odds. “Grievances” is more kicking against the pricks (the intentionally vague lyrics, ostensibly railing against an employer, could also be talking about a government or an organized religion) and features more slow-core, intensely heavy riffage; this time, the solo comes as the music begins to pick up some steam before reverting back to the grinding cacophony. A violent crush of noise, “Backlit” may be the heaviest thing I’ve ever heard… a tune that’s kinda like the musical equivalent of watching two trains crashing into each other, seeing the carnage unfold in slow motion.

Kowloon Walled City (Scott Evans; Ian Miller; Jon Howell; Jeff Fagundes) (publicity photo)
Kowloon Walled City (Scott Evans; Ian Miller; Jon Howell; Jeff Fagundes) (publicity photo)

The second half of the album kicks off with “The Grift,” a song which is faster than the first three, but still doesn’t even come close to mid-tempo. The quickened pace seems to make the guitars sound more melodic through most of the tune. “White Walls” is vaguely reminiscent of a Body Count song played at half speed. For the first time, Ian Miller’s bass parts separate from the drone while the discordant, de-tuned guitars of Evans and Jon Howell and Jeff Fagundes’ stiflingly heavy drums threaten to smother the listener. Much more oppressive drums and bass pound home yet another tale of disillusion and deceit on “True Believer,” as Evans intones “He wonders which one’s to blame/And will they get away/Because you know/Someone always gets away.” The cut features a noisy, feedback-drenched solo. The final number highlights the reason we do what we do… it’s all for our “Daughters and Sons.” The narrative asks the questions we all ask: “Did we get enough?/Are we satisfied yet?” just before the hopelessness and ultimate defeat of the human spirit is felt in the final third of the song. GRIEVANCES is my first exposure to Kowloon Walled City and, hopefully, it won’t be my last. If nothing else, I would certainly love to see these guys play this stuff live.

DOYLE/ELEMENT A440/HUNG LIKE A MARTYR/THE SUPERMEN

(November 21, 2015; READY ROOM, Saint Louis MO)

DSCN3500

So, this is the second metal show I’ve seen in the past five days and, like the Amaranthe show at Pop’s, this one had its fair share of drunken yahoos and intolerable idjits; in fact, several of the drunken yahoos and intolerable idjits from Pop’s were performing the same functions at the Ready Room. Even before the lights went down and the first band took the stage, a woman who seemed relatively sane five nights previous (her twelve year old son was with her then) was already so sloshed that she was slurring her words and was unable to navigate her way across the floor to the rest room, but we’ll get into more specifics as we go through the evening’s festivities, beginning with…

Supermen (Jimmy All-Dick; Valiance Jack; Gaius Julius Sensei Almighty) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Supermen (Jimmy All-Dick; Valiance Jack; Gaius Julius Sensei Almighty) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

The Supermen, an unrepentant mish-mash of punk, metal, misogyny, soft-core porn, comedy and wrestling from the StL. This band is pure, mindless mayhem and their stage show had so much happening that it was hard to find a focal point; I’m sure that a majority of the males in attendance spent most of their time focusing on the barely-dressed dancer/dominatrix who, according to the Supermen’s Facebook page is called (Hail the New) Dawn and is listed as “Property.” For the ladies, there was Tiger Mask IV, the male counterpart to Dawn, who is the group’s “Lead Partier” and was, likewise, barely dressed, sporting a Luchidor mask, wrestling trunks and boots. The rest of the band have also adopted wrestling gear and names (Maxxx Loads, “the Prom King,” plays bass; Valiance Jack, “the Promiscuous Protomartyr,” plays drums; Jimmy All-Dick, “the Alpha Male,” plays guitar; Gaius Julius Sensei Almighty is the singer; and the “manager” is Osama Bin Erickson, the Dean of Debauchery). Musically, think early punk laced with liberal doses of Motorhead-style metallic speed; lyrically, look to bands such as the Cramps or Dwarves for like-minded reference points (translation: Don’t try to read too much into what’s going on with the Supermen; they don’t take themselves too seriously and neither should you). Even though the look and songs do, in fact, border on the cartoonish, don’t miss out on the fact that these guys are actually really good players. The band’s twenty-minute, ten song set included such instant classics as “White Women In Distress,” “Live Punk Sex Act,” “I Kill Everything I Fuck” and their call-to-arms anthem, “Blood, Honor and Pussy.” A fun time was had by all, except for a fellow cameraman, who was continually hit or shoved from behind by (surprise, surprise!) a drunken tool who would wander to the back of the room and then charge to the front, yelling, “Hey! Hey! Hey!” to whoever happened to be on stage at the time. Music reviews should not focus so much on the audience’s behavior, but when that behavior actually hinders your enjoyment of the music, it must be addressed (in an effort, hopefully, to curtail such incidents in the future for the enjoyment and safety of everyone involved).

Hung Like a Martyr (Mark Nicol; Bruce Morrison; Paul Dontigney) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Hung Like a Martyr (Mark Nicol; Bruce Morrison; Paul Dontigney) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

Another local act, Hung Like a Martyr (who, coincidentally, have opened for Doyle’s old band, the Misfits), offered more of a straight metal sound that was not unappreciated by yours truly. Bruce Morrison’s voice has a certain Vince Neil quality, but carries the emotional weight of a John Corabi (thus embodying both Crue singers in one), though the actual music was heavier than the Crue’s pop metal. The dual guitars of Erik Spiller and Paul Dontigney reminded me of the Phil Campbell/Wurzel two-pronged guitar attack of Motorhead’s mid-’80s to mid-’90s period… rough, fast and insanely melodic; the rhythm section of bassist Adam “Adamned” Fuchs and drummer Mark Nicol managed to keep things brutally heavy while never giving up their funky groove. The set built from the frustration of watching this country crumble under the weight of internal strife and increasing violence, as well as attacks from without, with the opening song, “Bent,” a battle cry that lets everyone know that we may be bent but we’re not broken; “Kill Your Own King” and “Watching the World Burn” are laments to the fact that America is so divided that we can seemingly no longer find a common ground on which to come together; “The Reaper” and “Nuclear Salvation” follow the same apocalyptic message. The final number, “Dead Body Dumptruck,” is basically a dark hymn to what we have to look forward to if we don’t get our act together: Death from within and annihilation from without, leading to a sort of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD zombie apocalypse of rotting corpses in mass graves. The songs – while very much in the horror/science fiction vein – had an angry spark of truth, delivered with a conviction and energy that was hard to ignore… even the drunks and idjits behaved during the set. All of the tunes, aside from “Bent,” are from earlier incarnations of Hung Like a Martyr; with a new record eminent, I, for one, am excited to see where new vocalist Morrison leads the group, lyrically, from here.

Element A440 (Kat; Halo; Katt) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Element A440 (Kat; Halo; Katt) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

Though I’m not really into the “Anti-Christ Superstar” imagery and lyrics of groups like Marilyn Manson, I must say that Element A440 serve up their version with something that Manson frontman Brian Warner could never offer: Talent. Add to that a genuine conviction for what they’re doing (a seemingly concerted effort to not just shock or offend for the sake of being shocking and offensive… I mean, this FEELS real coming from this group) and, whether you agree with their stance or not, you have the makings of a fiery, evil set of industrial metal that is hard to ignore. Where the band does appear to be pandering to the lowest common denominator is the over-the-top attempts to titillate with sophomoric pornographic lyrics and visuals; a shame really, as the horror and religious elements of their set are what drives the narrative. It would appear that vocalist Halo (who also does programming and plays guitar… at least in the studio) is the mastermind behind the look and sound of Element A440… he is the sole songwriter and, I would guess, the visual designer of the band’s appearance and onstage set-up; the set was structured with a smart ebb-and-flow at the beginning, eventually ramping up to a chaotic close with the entire band donning some of the creepiest half-masks this side of the original Slipknot… the only thing we didn’t see was Halo’s fire-breathing (a matter of strict fire laws and low ceilings, I would guess). The musicians – guitarist Graven, drummer Kat and bassist Katt – were tight and scalpel-sharp, delivering their brutal, misshapen pop with a glee that never quite matched Halo’s but… that didn’t keep them from trying, pushing each other (and their manic leader) to ever harsher heights of musical mayhem. The songs that had the most impact, for me, included “Dance Dead,” “Wasted,” “Godless,” “Freak” and, I suppose, “Porn Star,” though for different reasons than you would think. I would definitely like to see a full Element A440 headlining set with the group pulling out all of the musical and effects stops… perhaps outdoors at Pop’s? Naturally, the drunks were back from their sabbatical during the last set, as the “Hey! Hey! Hey!” guy was back, seeking the acknowledgment from the stage that would validate his coolness and, the seemingly sane mother from five nights ago was all but molesting a couple of young men in the front row.

Doyle (Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein; Alex Story) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Doyle (Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein; Alex Story) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

With a new band, a new album and a tour with Glenn Danzig highlighting the last few years in the career of Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein, the Misfit guitarist is building on those successes with a headlining run through the States. Doyle (the man and the band) brought their ABOMINATOR TOUR to the Ready Room on the Saturday before Thanksgiving and absolutely destroyed! Doyle’s signature slash-and-burn style of guitar playing meshes well with the howling, growling vocal gymnastics of Alex “Wolfman” Story (he of Cancerslug fame) and, with bassist Left Hand Graham and drummer Brandon Pertzborn laying down a rhythmic bottom end denser than a graveyard fog, the crowd hung on every note, every scream. The set, as may be expected, was heavy on music from ABOMINATOR (ten tunes) and classic Misfits (eight songs). In fact, until the final four numbers, the group alternated three Doyle songs with three Misfits numbers; that pattern was broken up by a cover of KISS’ “Strutter,” which we’ll discuss later.

Doyle (Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein with Brandon Pertzborn; Doyle) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Doyle (Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein with Brandon Pertzborn; Doyle) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

Kicking off with Abominator,” the band proved their metal mettle (sorry… couldn’t resist), with Doyle already stalking the stage and hammering his guitar mercilessly. As much as I enjoyed Story’s vocals throughout, it wasn’t until the fifth song, the classic punk of “Ghouls Night Out.” I suppose now is as good a time as any to mention that our screamer did change up the act a bit for the headliners; his mantra now became, “Doyle! Doyle! Hey, Doyle,” which at the beginning of the set was directed at Alex Story. The inebriated Mom, cajoled and egged on by this goof between bouts of yelling his lungs out at the band, even made it onto the stage, a little to the right of Graham, where she just kinda swayed to the music until the tour manager took her arm and led her off, at which point, I assume, she began cozying up to the brothers who had been fending her off the entire evening. So, anyway, after “Skulls” (from the WALK AMONG US album), it was back to new material, including the wickedly awesome “Dreamingdeadgirls” and Love Like Murder.”

Doyle (Alex Story; Alex with Left Hand Graham) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Doyle (Alex Story; Alex with Left Hand Graham) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

The musical merry-go-round continued with three of the best tracks from EARTH AD, “Green Hell,” “Bloodfeast” and “Devilock.” Now, of course, hearing all of the great Misfits songs, when I sat down with Doyle after the show, I had to ask the question that has been on every Fiend’s mind since the original group broke up nearly 35 years ago: “Are the reunion rumors true and, if so, where do things stand now?” Doyle tells me, “I’m workin’ on it. I’ve got two fuckin’ bulls to deal with, ya know? One dogs lookin’ this way, one dogs lookin’ that way and this guy’s sayin’, ‘What do you want from me?’” What more can we hope for? Well, for one thing, a second album from Doyle, the band but, more immediately, the final round of ABOMINATOR songs, including the heavy, atmospheric Mark of the Beast,” and the graveyard mysticism of “Cemeterysexxxand “Drawing Down the Moon.” This was the point where the guys broke the cycle, tearing into “Strutter.” It’s also the point that the two drunks actually managed to get Doyle’s attention; the woman was attempting to lift her shirt up, an occurrence that the gentleman just couldn’t let pass without alerting the guitarist: “Hey, Doyle! Doyle! Doyle! Look at these!” In mid-solo, without missing a beat, Doyle replied, “I don’t wanna see those nasty old things.” Crest (breast?) fallen, the duo were utterly lost, put in their places by the one guy in the whole building you didn’t want to cross. With a smirk on his face, Alex introduced the final two – and possibly the two most well-known – Misfits numbers, “Last Caress” and “Die Die My Darling,” which has attained legendary status among fans and punks everywhere. Closing with “Hope Hell Is Warm,” Doyle, Alex, Brandon and Graham left the crowd with ringing ears and memories of a great night of punk and metal.

Doyle (Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)
Doyle (Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein) (photo credits: DARREN TRACY)

Before leaving this review, I should probably explain why I spent so much time relating the actions of two very drunk people. The reasons are really simple: First, your actions made you a part of the show to the group of people around you, ruining what may have been their only night out for the entire month (or longer… considering the economy, live shows are very much a luxury nowadays). Second (and most important), there is no way that being fall-down drunk before the show even started can be construed as “just having fun,” miss… you have a serious problem that could endanger your life; please, take your actions into consideration, as you have a twelve year-old son to think about… how would you react if a stranger old enough to be his mother spent the night hitting on him? Plus, to both of you (and anyone else who decides to drink to excess), I don’t want to be on the road, worrying if you’re behind the wheel of one of the vehicles in my general vicinity. I understand that we all need a little release from time to time, a chance to let go and have a good time but, please, remember that there are others who have to put up with you and your drunken shenanigans and… please, don’t be the fatal statistic who crashed and burned on their way home from a killer night of Rock ‘n’ Roll.