Song of the Moment: Thirteen by Big Star

Some would say that the song that most perfectly encapsulates the emotions of young, innocent love is "I Want to Hold Your Hand". And yes, for recreating the pure joy of a time when holding hands was the ultimate in human interaction, it cannot be topped. However, "Thirteen", from Big Star's debut album #1 Record explores a more complex emotional range in dealing with the same topic. 

It's possible that the melancholy lilt of the song originated because the protagonist wasn't holding hands with the object of his affection, but standing outside her window. In either case, the mood of the song now lends itself to a sense of nostalgia. Rather than celebrating this phase in our lives, "Thirteen" makes us weep for its passing. 

Top Ten Albums: 1967

I thought the intro of my Top Ten list was, perhaps, a little sour on 1969.  So I didn't want everyone to think I thought the 60s were overrated.  So here to redeem the first decade of the album era, we have 1967.  

1967 is a lot like 1969.  It played host to a landmark festival and has a special place in hippie lore as "The Summer of Love".  But where 1969 saw the golden dreams of the sixties fading into the shadow of the seventies, 1967 was the sound of an era coming into its own and crystalizing its musical identity.  

I should also note that '67 was a historic year for debuts.  #8, #7, #6, #3, and #2 on this list are all debut albums, while #9 and #5 represent the kind turning point in a young careers that could be considered a rebirth.  Also of interest is the fact that several of these bands in fact released 2 albums in 1967.  I declined to include the lesser of these pairs so that I could showcase a broader range of talent, but I would like to note, in particular, the brilliance of Love's Da Capo and The Jimi Hendrix Experience's Axis: Bold as Love.  

#10

Disraeli Gears by Cream

While the blues would continue to be an important influence throughout the 60s, new artists like Jimi Hendrix were taking the highly regimented form in startling new directions.  Cream never made that leap (despite the boldly colorful cover sleeve), instead focusing on the core essentials of great blues-rock: groove and guitar.  "Sunshine of Your Love" is an unqualified triumph, radiating as much sex in that riff as three British guys can muster, and relieving the tension with a rocking chorus.  More traditional blues constructions like "Strange Brew" and "Outside Woman Blues" abound, while "Tales of Brave Ulysses" and "Swlabr" approach the psychedelic drive of Jefferson Airplane.  Some of the lyrics are tenuous, and the drummer's star turn ("Blue Condition") and the closing novelty ("Mother's Lament") are borderline unlistenable.  But this is a blues based album of impressive range, and a valuable reminder of why Eric Clapton was known as "god" until a certain American ax-slinger strolled into town.

#9

Surrealistic Pillow by Jefferson Airplane

In 1966, a young singer named Grace Slick left her band The Great Society and joined Jefferson Airplane.  She brought with her two compositions that would change the San Francisco scene forever: "Somebody to Love" and "White Rabbit".  Although The Great Society had recorded the prior with legendary producer/musical eccentric Sylvester Stewart (most know him as Sly Stone), the performance captured by Slick, Marty Balin, Jorma Kaukonen, Paul Kantner, and Jack Casady transformed the song from footnote to enduring classic.  Similarly, the Airplane changed "White Rabbit" from long-form improvised jam into one of the most perfectly terse psychedelic singles of the era.  The strange march rhythm of the bass and drums, mixed with Slick's powerfully eerie lead vocal, made a scene-defining statement.

There are, of course, several other songs on the album.  The propulsive energy of "She Has Funny Cars" and "3/5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds", the twisted humor of "Plastic Fantastic Lover", and the sweet elegance of "Embryonic Journey" are what make this a great album, and not just fodder for a great compilation.  The Airplane would further explore the album concept on After Bathing at Baxter's, but the songs on Surrealistic Pillow are still their greatest legacy.

#8

Songs of Leonard Cohen by Leonard Cohen

Already an established poet and novelist, Leonard Cohen released his first album of folk songs in 1967 (though it wouldn't be until early '68 that it got a wide release).  Having committed himself to his new medium, Cohen explores the usual themes of the popular song: relationships and sex.  Nearly all of the songs discuss the various ways that men and women emotionally torment each other, from the chained down wanderer in "So Long, Marianne" to the betrayed hostess in "The Stranger Song".  This is perhaps best exemplified in the closing track, "One of Us Cannot Be Wrong", in which the narrator struggles with an unfaithful lover.  First he tries to get back at her, and then simply to get over her.  But in the end, when he is watching a video of her cheating on him in a blizzard, he wants only to join her.  The last verse is simply the wordless moaning of a broken man, coming from somewhere in the corner of the room.

#7

Moby Grape by Moby Grape

The fact that Moby Grape's eponymous debut is still so fondly remembered by historians is perhaps the most poetic triumph of art over commerce.  Though it produced only one modestly charting single, this is primarily because 5 of its tracks were simultaneously released as singles. This and a myriad other marketing blunders hurt the album's chances of getting a fair listen, and one of the Summer of Love's most promising bands was snuffed before they had a chance to shine.

"Hey Grandma" opens the album with a tale that almost perfectly summarizes the Summer of Love: a hippie gets so stoned that he starts hitting on his (or perhaps somebody else's) grandmother.  The lyrics are delivered with Byrdsian harmonies, but over a driving rock beat and frenetic, bluesy guitars, which come to a stuttering, syncopated halt during the chorus.

In a similar vein is the one single that landed on the chart: "Omaha".  However, what sets "Omaha" apart is the abstract, stereophonic introduction.  Amid the more traditional (albeit varied) rock/folk/country structures that define the album's sound, such a psychedelic burst, more at home on Piper at the Gates of Dawn, is quite astonishing.  And it is this experimental spirit, matched with their superb musicianship and vocal blend, is what makes this album a triumph.

#6

Forever Changes by Love

In many ways, Forever Changes is an anti-psychedelic album.  Most songwriters who turned to the abstract lyricism of the psych movement did so with a sort of unbridled optimism: a drug fueled idea of a utopian future.  Not Arthur Lee.  He was "Sitting on the hillside, watching all the people die", getting ready to "thumb a ride" to heaven in "The Red Telephone".  Elsewhere, he explores racial divides in the LA music scene ("Maybe the People Will Become the Times or Between Clark and Hillsdale"), American imperialism ("Live and Let Live"), and utopian ideals ("The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This", "The Daily Planet").  

Musically too, the album fits in a strange place in the psychedelic universe.  The mystical guitar chords, exotic spanish horns, and unpredictable, serpentine structures are a heady brew indeed. However, the album also (almost) completely ignores electronic effects and the potential of the recording studio.  The result is a sound both otherworldly and earthy.  And when electricity is introduced into the songs, on the fiery solo break of "A House is Not a Motel" or in the stuttering tape that signals the end of the daydream in "The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This", the effect is all the greater.

Ultimately, this is an album who's legacy is cemented by its bookend tracks.  Opener "Alone Again Or" is the best known, though it was written by Love's George Harrison: Brian Maclean. It could be read as a simple love song, a comment on the "free love" concept, or a critique of humanity.  But no matter what it means, it is a joy to listen to, with a masterful arrangement that perfectly sets the tone of the album.

On the other side, "You Set the Scene" is the kind of thematically sprawling epic you'd expect to find at the end of a Dylan album, except that the musical twists outnumber the lyrical ones. The first half is largely an extremely eloquent skewering of hippie ideals of peace and love ("There are people wearing frowns who'll screw you up but they would rather screw you down").  But where the song becomes truly transcendent is in the latter half, when Lee begs the listener to accept that life is shitty, but to go out and live it anyway.  You say you want a revolution?  Well then make a fucking revolution!

"Everything I've seen needs rearranging

And for anyone who thinks it's strange

Then you should be the first to want to make this change

And for everyone who thinks that life is just a game

Do you like the part you're playing?"

#5

I Never Loved a Man the Way that I Love You by Aretha Franklin

What a transformation.  Done with singing "Rock-A-Bye Your Baby (With a Dixie Melody)" for Columbia, Aretha opens her Atlantic Records debut with perhaps the most iconic soul single of all time: "Respect".  A perfect record and one of the greatest covers of all time, "Respect" was ranked the 5th greatest song of all time by Rolling Stone magazine.  But one song does not a great album make, and I Never Loved a Man... does not stop after track 1.  

For one thing, there's the title track.  With a smoky, seductive groove that gradually adds layer after layer until the tension is released in the explosive bridge, "I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Loved You)" is another stunner.  "Do Right Woman - Do Right Man" was memorably covered by The Flying Burrito Brothers, but this remains the definitive version: a cool, impassioned plea for fidelity.

None of the other tracks match these highs, but only the unimaginative "Good Times" disappoints.  Ray Charles' "Drown in My Own Tears" gets a solid reading, and tracks like "Don't Let Me Lose This Dream" and "Save Me" provide some stylistic variety.  And the stirring piano-based rendition of "A Change is Gonna Come" completes the triumvirate of classic recordings of the Sam Cooke staple (along with Sam Cooke's original orchestral version and Otis Redding's rousing horn-backed take).  Aretha takes the song back to the church where soul music was born, an alter at which devout music fans of all stripes should bow.

#4

The Piper at the Gates of Dawn by Pink Floyd

Piper is the defining work of original Floyd frontman Syd Barret, who's tenure with the group was cut short by his excessive drug use and nascent psychological problems.  However, one could argue that it is these issues that make this a landmark record.  

This is a record with two distinct personalities: one exploring wondrous new psychedelic worlds, and one capturing the joyous, wide eyed perspective of a child.  It is this dichotomy that sets Piper apart from other psychedelic/prog albums.  The genre became known for its super-serious posturing as it developed, but Barrett maintains a more balanced tone with lighthearted fairytales like "The Gnome" and "Matilda Mother" and the absurd, jubilant sweetness of "Bike".  

On the other side, we have tracks that explore spacious new worlds of sound.  From opening track, "Astronomy Domine", outer space is identified as a significant theme for the album, but this track is only an appetizer.  The feast is "Interstellar Overdrive", a surging 10 minute epic that begins with a simple guitar riff, but then branches out in so many directions (from spastic proto-punk slashes to minimalist squawks and hypnotic sustained chords) that by the time the band centers around the opening riff again, it's even more exhilarating than it was the first time.  The organ swirls in and out of the mix, some times taking the lead, but mostly providing the kind of mystic atmosphere that tracks like this depend on.  

The transformative power of this track was a major stepping stone in the development of psychedelia, one that bridges the gap between the mind-blowing sonics of The Beatles' "Tomorrow Never Knows" and the long form prog rock jams that would follow.  And the way that the album flows, "Interstellar Overdrive" could pass for an extended introduction to "The Gnome", highlighting Syd Barrett's ability to not only write in two distinct styles, but to weave them together as if they belonged that way.

#3

Are You Experienced [US Edition] by The Jimi Hendrix Experience

If you go out and buy Are You Experienced today, you don't need to worry about which side of the atlantic you're on.  The Experience Hendrix CD reissue (from 1997) gives you everything, including the b-sides from the three singles. But in 1967, there were two albums called Are You Experienced.  Hendrix and his British label decided not to include the singles that the band had already released, assuming that fans would feel cheated buying them, in essence, a second time on the LP.  His American label concluded, however, that more people would buy the album with the singles included, especially since they had barely charted stateside.

In the end, there's no question that the American tracks are superior.  On the British LP, "Can You See Me" is a definite dud.  The attempt at a lyrical twist is awkward, and the guitar riff is not especially memorable.  But "Remember" is a solid R&B track, and especially satisfying since Hendrix didn't often revisit the style, and "Red House" is a classic blues, with fantastic guitar playing that more than makes up for lyrics that are very much of the style.  No, it is not the British LP's fault that it's American cousin is better.  You simply can't argue with "Hey Joe", "The Wind Cries Mary", and "Purple Haze", 3 songs that I'm sure you know well enough that their discussion would be as unnecessary as it would be futile.  

You could debate sequencing, but the differences are minor.  "Are You Experienced?" closes both LPs perfectly, and tracks like the psychedelic voyage of "Third Stone from the Sun" astonish in any context, even after 40 years of new sonic discoveries.  Especially if you consider that those discoveries may never have been made without it.

You see, on this debut, and the two Jimi Hendrix Experience masterpieces that were to follow, Hendrix took the art of the electric guitar to the next level for the first time since Chuck Berry.  While The Beatles were the first to include feedback on a record, that was a happy accident.  And although backwards guitar loops were beginning to gain prominence, none sounded like what Hendrix was doing.  The final minutes of "Third Stone..." or the solo break in "I Don't Live Today" turn traditional guitar virtuosity on its ear, adding to the bag of tricks employed by underground rockers in the 80s as they battled to reconcile beauty and noise (see below).  But Hendrix had the traditional technical skills as well, and the proto-metallic crunch of "Foxey Lady" sparked an entirely different movement as the 60s melted into the 70s.

 

#2

The Velvet Underground and Nico by The Velvet Underground

"Sunday Morning" launches the album with a sweet, innocent xylophone melody.  And then the two-chord strut of "I'm Waiting for The Man" tears those misty dreams to shreds.  The guitars are almost as dirty as the dingy back alleys and brownstones of the titular drug dealer.  "Proto-Punk", as the genre for pre-Ramones punk bands, was born.

You see, while most artists in 1967 were looking to the skies, singing about purple hazes and tangerine dreams, Lou Reed looked to the gutter, and sang about what he found.  From the soulless Warhol hanger-on depicted in "Femme Fatale" to the S&M deviants depicted in the trance-inducing "Venus in Furs", Reed showcases the lowest elements of New York life.  But his language does not pass judgement: he is merely a reporter from society's underbelly, not its judge and jury. 

But the centerpiece of the album is "Heroin".  Beginning, again, with a dulcet calm, the song's tempo fluctuates to emulate the rush of injection and the haze of inactivity that surrounds it. Then, in the final minutes, the band erupts into a frenzy of activity that is perhaps best described as noise.  Abrasive, atonal, painful noise.  But it is this noise that established the template for underground rock 15 years away.  The quest to find the perfect merger of beauty and noise became the dominant concern of indie rock in the 80s, when bands like The Jesus and Mary Chain, Dinosaur Jr., and Sonic Youth took things to the next level (inspiring in their wake such followers as My Bloody Valentine and Nirvana).  And it all started here.

#1

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles

Is it the first concept album?  At best it's essentially a tie with The Who's Sell Out.  Is it the best collection of songs ever assembled as a proper album?  It may not even be The Beatles' best such collection.  So why is Sgt. Pepper the best album, not only of 1967, but all time?

Because it has the perfect combination of quality songcraft, masterful production, expert musicianship, conceptual identity, and experimental verve.  The opening title track sets the stage.  The Beatles did not tour behind this album.  They intended to send the album out on tour for them.  So they introduce their new alter egos at the outset.  They ARE Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, and this is their show.  Well, along with Billy Shears, of course.

Further along, the Lennon and McCartney advance ideas from their prior album, 1966's Revolver.  "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" does for Lewis Carol what "Tomorrow Never Knows" did for the Tibetan Book of the Dead, while "Getting Better" puts a more subversive twist on the unflinching optimism of "Good Day Sunshine".  

And, like on Revolver, they continue to explore more mature themes.  From the existential wonderings and self-actualization of "Fixing a Hole" to the family drama (and harps!) of "She's Leaving Home", this is no longer the same band that just wants to hold your hand.  

I suppose it only makes sense that the next place that psychedelia would go would be the sinister fun of the carnival, but "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite" could not have done a better job of doing so.  The truly random caliope solo at the end (assembled by taking a taped solo, cutting it to pieces, throwing the pieces in the air, and stitching them together as they landed) is remarkable.

And then we reach the apex of George Harrison's fascination with India.  Finally immersing himself fully in not just the instrumentation, but also the compositional techniques of Indian Classical Music, "Within You Without You" is perhaps Harrison's finest moment.  A short sitar solo opens the piece, reminiscent of the "alap" section in Indian compositions.  And as the song develops, no harmonic movement is introduced.  Indian music is all about melody, with nothing but the ever-present, single note drone to provide harmony, and this piece is no different.  But the best part is the instrumental section in the middle, where a variety of traditional Indian strings exchange lines in a sort of dialogue with a Western string section.  The ultimate symbol of this track's perfect fusion of sensibilities.

This worldly, exotic wonder is then followed by the incredibly english, traditional-sounding "When I'm Sixty-Four", still the only song I know to be backed primarily by a clarinet trio.  The playful psych-pop of "Lovely Rita" follows, leading to the urban bustle of "Good Morning, Good Morning", inspired by a cereal commercial.  As this horn-inflected blast fades out, we hear the clattering of barn-yard animals, a nod to Brian Wilson's Pet Sounds, his entry in the pop-cultural arms race that led to Sgt. Pepper.

The squawk of a chicken turns into a spurt of guitar as The Concept returns, with what I would argue is the first remix in pop music.  Upping the tempo and supplying a more dance inflected beat, we have "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)".  But this is just a fanfare to announce the arrival of the perfect final track.

"A Day in the Life" could be a total failure.  Essentially, Lennon reads the paper and McCartney wakes up late and hurries to the bus.  But the piano and guitar at the beginning set a perfectly dramatic yet spartan tone, as odd, angular drum fills trickle in and coalesce into a rhythmic identity.  And then, a collection of some of London's finest symphonic musicians travel randomly from the lowest note on their instrument to the highest.  The pace quickens as McCartney wakes and prepares for the day, lending the song a sense of musical theater, as does the hazy sound of Lennon's "dream" vocal.  The final Lennon verse casts his contributions in an entirely different light, shifting from talk of dead politicians and war films to the number of holes in the Royal Albert Hall.  And the perfectly realized epic ends with one impossibly epic, seemingly endless piano chord.  

Well, almost.  The first concept album (maybe), the first remix, and then the first "hidden track": an insane barrage of sound that would loop endlessly in the runout groove of the original vinyl until somebody stopped the needle.  The comic absurdity of it actually undermines the lingering emotions of "A Day in the Life", but that piano chord gives you plenty of time to reflect.  And it's hard to discredit an album for having too many original ideas, though Pepper clearly had plenty without this little addendum.

Mercury Music Prize

I've grown rather disillusioned when it comes to music awards.  When it's clear that nobody thinks the Grammy's are going to the right people, it's hard not to be.  But I still believed in the Mercury Music Prize, an award given to the "Best British Album of the Year".  It's important to note that "The Year" is not the calendar year, but the 12-month interval that they find convenient for scheduling the award presentation.

This year, that presentation was yesterday.  The award was given to Elbow's The Seldom Seen Kid.  I admit, this is one of the 12 nominees that I have not heard in full, and while a couple listens to the iTunes samples provide reason for hope, they also provide reason for concern.  I'll reserve judgment until I get a chance to get a better read on the album, but right now I'd dub them a slightly more adventurous version of Travis, if not Coldplay.

Elbow plays against type for the Mercury voters, although their tendency towards electronic artists has been less pronounced in the new millennium.  I still thought they'd go for Burial's Untrue, an electronic album from a subgenre they had yet to honor (dubstep) that truly is extraordinary.  A dark, atmospheric album that not only manages to sample both Christina Aguilera and the Metal Gear Solid video game, but to do it in the same song.  But the voters are clearly no longer as devoted to electronic music, and Elbow has won the prize.

To put this in perspective, here's a brief history of the past winners (that I've heard):

1992: Screamadelica by Primal Scream.  Having abandoned their Stones worship and embraced the new generation of stoner, Primal Scream made what is considered the defining album of the Madchester scene.  A dance record with psychedelic sensibilities of classic pop records from the 60s (like "Movin' On Up", which sounds like The Stones with a dance beat) that was perfectly suited for Rave culture and its new drug of choice: ecstasy.

1993: Suede by Suede.  Although history has declared Blur's Parklife the defining record of BritPop, Suede was the genre's first big statement.  America was firmly in control of the rock world after Nirvana had slain the hair metal dragon, and Britain needed to reestablish itself as a major power in the rock world.  Parklife is indeed more "British", in the manner of Ray Davies and Paul Weller, but Suede was the album that gave UK rock its swagger back.  Not that the Americans took much notice.

1994: Elegant Slumming by M People.  Here the proclivity for electronic acts shows up for the first time, with this House record taking the prize over the aforementioned Parklife.  I think that I just don't get House music, but this record does not resonate with me at all.  

1995: Dummy by Portishead.  Having missed out on Massive Attack's Blue Lines (1991), The Mercury voters acknowledged this revitalization of the Trip Hop genre.  With no disrespect to Shara Nelson, Beth Gibbons gave Trip Hop the voice that it's dark moods yearned for, and the brilliant production on this album only adds to the haunting impact of the record.

1996: Different Class by Pulp.  And BritPop roars back.  After Blur and Oasis, Pulp completes the holy trinity of BritPop, and Different Class is the reason why.  An astoundingly catchy dissection of class warfare and sex, Jarvis Cocker's band finally struck gold here after 12 years of on-again-off-again toil, making them by far the oldest band to win the prize.

1998: Bring It On by Gomez.  Opening with synthesizers and effected guitars that would fit on a Primal Scream record, "Get Miles" eventually settles into a bluesy groove that underpins the kind of Joe Cocker-ish voice that I didn't think existed anymore.  Such bluesy elements later mingle with delightful indie pop and more electronic flourishes, making for an inspired choice over the better known Urban Hymns  by The Verve.

2000: The Hour of Bewilderbeast by Badly Drawn Boy.  Badly Drawn Boy's debut is an ambitious record that calls on a diverse group of sounds.  Opener "The Shining" has a great melody and an intriguing arrangement built around a single cello and a single french horn (along with the more traditional acoustic guitar and piano), and the abrupt but calculated transition into "Everybody's Stalking" is attention grabbing.  A solid if long-winded record.

2001: Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea by PJ Harvey.  The first true veteran to win the award (since Pulp were all but completely unknown for the first 10 years of their existence), this record finds Polly Jean abandoning the searing alt-rock of Rid of Me and the warped blues of To Bring You My Love, aiming for a more pop sound.  While this was still not Top 40 material, her embrace of melody and fuller productions was still winning, even if some of her old bite is missing from the lyrics.

2002: A Little Deeper by Ms. Dynamite.  R&B gets its due here, as Ms. Dynamite presents a record that tackles weighty subjects like domestic drama and death without being as cliche as many of her peers.  And while her lyrics still lack the originality to make a big statement, the melodies and arrangements are good enough to make for a truly solid record.  Ms. Dynamite is the British Lauryn Hill, having left So Solid Crew, won over fans and critics with this debut, and since fallen off the face of the earth.

2004: Franz Ferdinand by Franz Ferdinand.  Taking Gang of Four's dance-punk hybrid to the masses by focusing more on sex than politics, Franz Ferdinand became a flagship band of the Post-Punk Revival, introducing the genre to millions who didn't know it even existed.  The singles are great, but the album tracks are very good as well.

2005: I Am a Bird Now by Antony and the Johnsons.  A gorgeous album that explores themes of gender identity with a seriousness absent from previous androgynous rockers like Bowie, but also touches on less controversial topics like abusive relationships, death, and loneliness.  Antony's voice is an instrument of rare beauty, and the arrangements (from the perfect simplicity of "Hope There's Someone" to the weary horns of "Fistful of Love") are stunning.

2006: Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not by Arctic Monkeys.  The first time that a world-conquering mega-album was given the prize, after the dishonoring of Radiohead's OK Computer, Blur's Parklife, and Oasis' (What's the Story) Morning Glory?.  An engaging rock album that introduced a great new lyrical voice in Alex Turner.

The 1997 prize was given to Drum 'n' Bass collective Reprazent for New Forms, the 1999 prize to Asian Underground artist Talvin Singh for Ok, the 2003 prize to "grime" rapper Dizzee Rascal for Boy in Da Corner, and the 2007 prize to dance-punk/New Rave band The Klaxons for Myths of the Near Future.  All were debut albums.

Jerry Wexler, R.I.P.

Jerry Wexler died today, one of the most important figures in the history of American soul music. 

Co-founder of Atlantic Records, Wexler had an astonishing ear for talent.  In 1966, He signed a struggling pop singer away from the major label that had given her a couple minor hit records, and let her loose.  After embracing the freer, emotionally raw, more gospel inflected style pioneered by another Atlantic artist named Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin quickly became the Queen of Soul.  Her first album for Atlantic is the finest female soul record ever recorded, with such unimpeachably great singles as "Respect", "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man", a powerful version of Sam Cooke's "A Change is Gonna Come", and the inimitable title track, "I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You", and Wexler put all the pieces in place.  

But this is a tribute to Wexler, and Aretha was not his only accomplishment.  He oversaw and produced the 8th best record of 1969, Dusty Springfield's Dusty in Memphis, and with late business partner Ahmet Ertegun, Wexler also signed such legends as Ray Charles, Cream, and Led Zeppelin.  In the era when independent labels first started to threaten the sales dominance of the more tightly controlled majors, Wexler's Atlantic was one of the very best.

Top Ten Albums: 1969

Over the life of this blog I'd like to break down and analyze each year of the album era, to give readers a more complete view of music history and at least some sense of context.  So here we begin, for no particular reason, with 1969.  

1969 has quite a reputation in the music world.  The Woodstock Music and Arts Festival became the defining event of the 60s counterculture movement, and thus you would think that '69 would be a great year for 60s albums.

However, most of the great rock bands that passed through '69 were either past their peak and entering a state of decline, or just getting started.  The Beatles were breaking up, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison were nearing their tragic deaths, the Velvet Underground were searching for a new identity without John Cale, and Sly Stone was beginning to feel the effects of the mountain of cocaine on his back.

Meanwhile, a band once humbly known as The New Yardbirds was just beginning to find its way as Led Zeppelin, a mercurial young songwriter named Nick Drake was learning how best to manipulate the recording studio, and The Rolling Stones were on the verge of breaking out of the Beatles shadow and learning how to have a dynamic, adaptive career without such brilliant guiding lights.

No, the artists that truly peaked in 1969 were not truly rock artists.  Journeyman country genius Gram Parsons was launching The Flying Burrito Brothers even higher than the Byrds, while a british songbird and a few Hawks from Canada were digging into the American soul and country experiences.  

So without further ado:

#10

The Velvet Underground by The Velvet Underground

The Velvet Underground's early sound was shaped by two things: Lou Reed's lyrics, and John Cale's avant garde musical sensibilities.  But without Cale's bass (or more importantly, his screeching viola), the VU were clever enough that they did not try to continue down the same road of distortion and noise without their navigator.  Instead, the album oscillates between early 60s-style guitar pop and slower tracks with the mellow, hazy back-room ambience implied by the cover. And in so doing, they laid yet another stone on the path that indie rock would drunkenly stumble along through the 1990s.

#9

Trout Mask Replica by Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band

When rock commentators like myself talk about "difficult" albums, we're talking about this. Seeming to capture the chaos of a bunch of amped-up druggies stumbling on instruments for the first time, this largely arhythmic, atonal double album was actually meticulously planned. But the reason that this album is so respected is because amidst the firestorm, there are solid rock songs like "Ella Guru" and "Moonlight on Vermont".  Moreover, Captain Beefheart (nee Don Van Vliet) has a twisted, psychedelic lyrical muse that is constantly amusing, at the very least.  Tracks like the spoken word "The Dust Blows Forward 'n The Dust Blows Back" and the absurd hysterics of "Pena" are hilarious, whether you think them the works of a brilliant visionary or a mad hobo.

#8

Dusty in Memphis by Dusty Springfield

Looking at the album cover, you do not expect to find the last great soul album of the 60s. Sure, it does say "Memphis", but from the beehive hair to the frilly lace dress, Dusty Springfield looks almost perfectly antithetical to the gritty, frankly emotional ethos of American Soul Music.  But there's one other thing on the cover that tells you this will be a great record: the imprint of Atlantic Records.  Atlantic A&R man Jerry Wexler had a great ear for talent and impeccable taste.  Having successfully transformed Aretha Franklin from an also-ran pop singer to the Queen of Soul, he went to work on Dusty.  With a strong batch of songs from legendary writers like Randy Newman and Carole King, Wexler let Dusty loose with one of Memphis' strongest backing bands and some lush orchestral arrangements, a sound that would be closer to Motown than Memphis if it weren't so sultry and seductive.

#7

Stand! by Sly and the Family Stone

If 60s music was largely about a utopian vision of a new "Love" age, then Sly and the Family Stone was perhaps the era's defining band. Comprised of blacks and whites, men and women, the band made uplifting music that echoed the ideas of the time.  But they were also the proud parents (along with James Brown) of a new genre called "Funk". There's a moment at the end of the title track where the song goes into a breakdown completely different from the rest of the song.  George Clinton would spin this breakdown out into a career with Parliament and Funkadelic throughout the 70s and 80s. But Stand! has other classic moments, from the explosive "I Want to Take You Higher" to the new gospel of "Everyday People". Still, tedious jams like "Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey" and "Sex Machine" keep this album a step below Sly's great unraveling, 1971's There's a Riot Going On, the final (and perhaps most painful) drug addled nail in the coffin of 60s idealism.

#6

Let It Bleed by The Rolling Stones

For the first time in the album era, the new Stones album could not be construed as their version of the latest Beatles album. Except perhaps in the sense that both bands went back to their core strengths to close out the decade that they had shaped together. For the Stones, this means gritty, bluesy, apocalyptic rock.  From the harrowing opener "Gimme Shelter", the band possesses the swagger that is perhaps their greatest legacy. Of course, the Stones had developed a good sense of pacing, so the album is also sprinkled with slower, country flavored tracks. The best of these is the last: the slow build of "You Got the Silver" is surprisingly powerful, and it makes you wonder why Keith Richards doesn't sing more often.  Finally, the band indulge their proclivity for closing with an epic pop statement, and deliver perhaps their best such song with "You Can't Always Get What You Want".  The way that the arrangement begins with the unflinching pomposity of a choir that fades to a humble acoustic guitar with a lonely French Horn, then rebuilds to a towering chorus, is magical.  

#5

Led Zeppelin II by Led Zeppelin

From the first moments, when that freight train bass starts chugging along with the guitar on "Whole Lotta Love", you know that this record is something special.  Especially amazing since Led Zeppelin I was less than a year old when this hit the shelves.  But these guys spat in the face of the "sophomore slump", presenting what would be their defining record until 1971, when they would blow everything else out of the water.  While their first record showcased a topnotch blues-rock band, Led Zeppelin II finds the band stretching their boundaries, from the psychedelic freak-out midway through "Whole Lotta Love", to their first experiment with a folkier, more elven sound on "Ramble On".  The fact that some of the lyrics, and arguably a monster riff or two, were stolen from old blues masters can be forgiven because of the fire of the performances and the way that Zeppelin puts the ideas in a new context and gives them the grandeur that they deserve.  

#4

The Gilded Palace of Sin by The Flying Burrito Brothers

I would say that if I had to pick, country music is the genre that has had to fight hardest for artistic respect.  When the billboard charts were founded, the country chart was designed to reflect the tastes of poor, white people.  Not exactly the cultural elite.  

But country-rock fusions like this landmark record show that the genre is more than broken down pickups and broken hearts.  The searing distorted slide guitar turns opener "Christine's Tune" from a standard country song into a fascinating merger of sensibilities.  Elsewhere, the band rework classic soul tunes into country ballads, showing that a great song can work in any context.  In the reverse, "Hot Burrito #2" was later covered by noise-rock icons Dinosaur Jr, and was paid tribute in a song title by indie soundscape artists Yo La Tengo.

But what makes this album a masterpiece is the lyrical depth.  If this album has a theme, it's revealed in the final track.  "Hippie Boy" talks about a chance encounter with a young hippie and concludes that the narrator and the boy are not as different as they appear.  But Parsons puts his money where his mouth is by illustrating these similarities throughout the album. "My Uncle" is a celebration of the decidedly hippie pursuit of draft dodging, and it features some great mandolin runs by former Byrds bassist Chris Hillman.  

But the true masterpiece here is "Sin City".  Borrowing more hippie ideology by condemning corporate pollution, it also frames its argument in religious rhetoric, creating a perfect fusion of the two sensibilities.  In the original novel that inspired the film High Fidelity, the main character includes this as one of his top 5 songs of all time.  Such praise may not be as outrageous as you think.

#3

Abbey Road by The Beatles

Frank Sinatra once sang "Something" in concert.  When he did, he thanked Lennon and McCartney for writing what he thought was one of the greatest love songs of all time.  George Harrison, the song's author, was furious.  This is why Abbey Road is such a fitting farewell for this great band.  For perhaps the first time in their discography, all four members seem on nearly equal footing as songwriters.  OK, only three of them are equal here, but credit should be given to Ringo for contributing his best composition to date (or possibly his career) with "Octopus's Garden".  The point is, the band's development had reached its peak.  Having thoroughly owned the 1960s, they were ready to explore the 70s as self-sufficient individuals rather than a unified whole.  

But music, not merely biography, is what makes this album so outstanding.  While McCartney and Lennon are both overindulgent in their way, each is redeemed in due course.   The silly kitsch of "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" is augmented by some of the band's first synthesizer experiments, creating an interesting blend of old-school music-hall and futuristic, electronic textures.  John, on the other hand, takes the length and weight of proto-metal ala Iron Butterly and mixes it with the compositional minimalism of punk.  While conceptually intriguing, the 8-minute "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" is a tiring listen, as the last couple minutes feature nothing but looping riffs and filtered noise.  But then the leaden, portentous cycle abruptly stops, in mid-riff.

And the opening chords of "Here Comes the Sun" ring out of the emptiness, in one of the most perfect moments in their entire catalog.  Of course, on the original release, that's where you flipped the record over.  But the sequencing was still clever then, as this was clearly a record meant to be played in full.  The rest of Side 2 (after the harmony-rich palette cleanser "Because") is of one piece, a patchwork of half-finished character sketches stitched together so naturally, you'd think it was the plan from the start.  In their final act, The Beatles achieved the kind of cohesion that made them such a great band, even as they prepared to splinter off into the sunset.

#2

Tommy by The Who

But for the first time in the album era, The Beatles did not produce the year's biggest Grand Statement.  You see, while The Beatles were compiling a collection of loosely affiliated short stories, The Who were writing a novel.

A story about a boy who shuts down his sensory perception because of early trauma, Tommy is an amazingly rich story for a rock band, even if some elements (like the pinball obsession that produced the album's best known and most enduring track) seem forced.  The story addresses a number of weighty themes, from sexual abuse to false prophets.

It's also impressive that such a thematically unified group of songs is not simply "The Pete Townshend Show".  One of the tracks is actually a cover of an old blues tune, and both bass player John Entwistle and drummer Keith Moon contributed compositions.  

And the musical presentation fuses the high art ambition of the "rock opera" concept with the egalitarian ethos of rock and roll, striving for bigger arrangements not by bringing in full symphonies and church choirs, but by highlighting the secret talents of their own membership (mostly Entwistle's french horn playing) and building vocal harmonies with the four voices of the band.  This keeps the record grounded, but it also meant that it could easily be reproduced live without having to pay extra musicians.  This undoubtedly helped the band turn their Grand Statement, a Rock Opera about a deaf, dumb, and blind boy, into the biggest commercial windfall of their career, saving themselves from financial ruin.  Such a staggering achievement, it could only leave the rest of the world to wonder about The Who's Next.

#1

The Band by The Band

Along with The Gilded Palace of Sin, The Band helped to elevate country music within the rock sphere.  If you indulge me for a small mental excursion back to the SAT prep days, The Band:Sgt. Pepper as Yankee Hotel Foxtrot:OK Computer.  The Band takes the exploratory spirit, if not at the same intensity, as Sgt. Pepper and applies it to the more rigid, traditionalist genre of country music.

To call The Band psychedelic may be misleading, but the diversity of sound is impressive.  "Up on Cripple Creek" moves between a more traditional chorus with a soaring organ line and funky verses with a heavily filtered bass line.  "Rag Mama Rag" is a party with a bold fiddle line played by a full violin section, with an energetic tuba filling in the low end.  

But The Band were always best when delving into the rural American experience, even though five of the six members are Canadian.  The album closer is a perfect example, the tale of a poor farmer dealing with the trials and tribulations of unionization after a horrendous year that has left him at wit's end.  Musically, the track has a solid R&B groove that jumps to a passionate gallop as the protagonists desperation spikes at the end of each verse.

But the finest track is the album's big hit single, "The Night They Drove Ol' Dixie Down". A Civil War tale from the perspective of a hard-luck southerner, the song achieves an amazing feat by getting you to truly feel for this man on the wrong side of such an important war.  Perhaps it takes a Canadian to remind us that the confederates were not just backward, bigoted trolls, but real people who were watching their entire world crumble before their eyes.

New Name: A Sign O' the Times

Some of you may notice that the url of this blog did not match the original title.  Somebody who hasn't posted anything since '03 is still holding the leftofthedial.blogspot.com url, so I dropped the f.  He's from Portland, so I'll give him a break.

My decision for url has turned rather fortuitous, as I can now ascribe meaning to it that I can in the future pretend to have intended from the beginning.  You see, the most famous instance of replacing "of" with O' in the rock universe is Prince's landmark double LP Sign O' the Times. This is significant for two reasons:

1. Like The Replacements, the band from whom the "Left of the Dial" part was derived, Prince is from Minneapolis, MN, and released his best music starting in 1984.

2. It symbolically represents a fusion of tastes for both the pop and the underground.  

While I'm certainly not the mainstream radio type (especially since about 1998), I'm not such a cultural snob that I would pretend that Meat Puppets II, Double Nickels on the Dime, Zen Arcade, and Let It Be were the only great albums to come out in 1984. Born in the USA, 1984, and Purple Rain were there too.  It's just that they had hit singles.

So that is the kind of sensibility I hope to bring in this blog.  I will trumpet underground gods like The Meat Puppets, The Minutemen, Husker Du, and the Replacements, who you probably don't know but should, but I will give Springsteen, Van Halen, and Prince their due.  The bottom line is that I don't believe that there is a correlation between popularity and artistic merit in either direction.  It's just as true that 50,000,000 Elvis fans can't be wrong as it is that 50,000 Fall fans can't be wrong.  

Just don't ask me to watch Purple Rain: The Movie.  I can only go so far.

The Fourth Led Zeppelin Album

In my opinion, the second greatest album of all time.  The timeless album to which such classics as "Black Dog", "Rock and Roll", and "Stairway to Heaven" owe their existence.  An album so great, in fact, that 5 of its 8 songs were selected for one of their most popular greatest hits collections.

But there's something else interesting about this album.  It has no official title.  At no place on the album sleeve is the name of the album or even the band mentioned.  Of course, we know this is a Led Zeppelin album.  But the question remains, which Led Zeppelin album?

The only writing on the album is four runes pictured below.  Each of these runes was chosen by a band member to represent himself.  The first, chosen by Jimmy Page, resembles the word Zoso, so sometimes the album is referred to by this name.  It's also been called "Four Runes".

It also directly followed the album officially titled Led Zeppelin III, so "Led Zeppelin IV" is also a commonly used name.  This makes sense, since all of their prior albums were titled in such a fashion.  But it would be the last such album, as Houses of the Holy and Physical Graffiti followed.

The most satisfying title, then, is Untitled.  High concept progressive rock at its finest.