Record Reviews
📝 2096 reviews| Artist | Title | Review |
|---|---|---|
| The Rolling Stones | Jamming With Edward | <p>Though many feel that the Stones were at their best when playing loose, sloppy rock & roll à la Exile on Main St., with this 1972 release on Rolling Stones Records the unrehearsed style of the album is more of a hindrance than a call to ragged glory. Not an official Rolling Stones release, the assembled band does contain three-fifths of the group (Mick Jagger, Bill Wyman, and Charlie Watts) along with session man extraordinaire Nicky Hopkins and guitarist Ry Cooder. The band stumbles through keyboard-dominated original numbers such as "Boudoir Stomp" and "Edward's Thrump Up," as well as more conventional cuts like a cover of Elmore James' "It Hurts Me Too." Yet the songs never get beyond giving the listener the impression they were thrown together during a drunken night's rehearsals. In that sense the album is a bit of a letdown; though any Stones fan would surely clamor for lost material from the band's golden age, Jamming With Edward instead makes one wish it had never been released.</p><p>—<strong>Steve Kurutz</strong></p> |
| The Rolling Stones | Like A Rolling Stone (EP) | |
| The Rolling Stones | Stripped | <p>Despite the odds, the Rolling Stones' Stripped held out great promise. Voodoo Lounge was an energized return to studio form for the Borg of rock & roll road shows. From that platform, the idea of taking it back to small clubs, live, lean and pared down without succumbing to the worn "unplugged" treadmill, seemed an inspired move. Patched together from an embroidery of tour rehearsals and live club dates in Paris and Amsterdam, the project was an extension of acoustic sets the group introduced on the North American leg of the Voodoo Lounge tour. The concept offered an invigorating opportunity to dust off some rough gems from the past that no longer felt at home on scoping stadium stages. Unfortunately, the cover photo depicting a lean, determined, leather-clad combo in spartan black and white proves to be misleading advertising. Within the brave packaging lies a listless, lethargic Dorian Gray bluff. Spongy keyboards gunk many of the tracks. The much-touted cover of Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" remains pointlessly devoted to the original. There are lazy, somnambulant versions of "I'm Free" and "Let It Bleed"; Keith Richards' painfully intoned "Slipping Away"; the dozens of lost songs that any fan would chose to have renovated before "Angie."</p>— <b>Roch Parisien</b> |
| The Rolling Stones | Forty Licks | <p>Forty Licks, like Elvis' 30 #1 Hits, is a career-spanning compilation that wouldn't have happened without the unprecedented, blockbuster success of Beatles 1. Where Elvis' set is hurt by the simple fact that there are too many damn Elvis comps on the market, the Rolling Stones benefit greatly from the fact that there has not been any set that chronicles all their recordings from the '60s through the '90s. It also benefits that this is the concept behind the record -- it's meant to be a journey through their biggest songs, not just the number one hits. Of course, the Stones couldn't have had a CD containing just their number ones that spanned one disc, much less two, because they never topped the charts that frequently. This is a liberating thing (compare it to Elvis', which got weighed down with the number ones, resulting in some subpar selections), since it opens the door for almost every Stones song of note to feature on this collection, along with four new songs (not great, but solid songs, all). Sure, there are many great Rolling Stones moments missing, and not just fan favorites Beggars Banquet or Exile on Main St., either -- "Play With Fire," "2000 Light Years From Home," "Tell Me," "Heart of Stone," "Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker)," "Lady Jane," "Time Is on My Side," "Waiting on a Friend," "I'm Free," and "We Love You" are all missing in action. The thing is, as the disc is playing, you don't miss any of them, and it feels like all the hits are here. At first, the nonchronological order seems to be a mistake, but both discs flow well, especially since they're roughly divided thematically (the first is devoted largely to the '60s, with the rest on the second). Yes, the Stones made great albums that should be in any serious rock collection, but if you just want a summary of their best moments, Forty Licks is it; it does its job as well as Beatles 1 did.</p><p>—<strong>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</strong></p> |
| The Rowans | The Rowans | |
| The Small Faces | Ogden's Nut Gone Flake | <p>There was no shortage of good psychedelic albums emerging from England in 1967-1968, but Ogden's Nut Gone Flake is special even within their ranks. The Small Faces had already shown a surprising adaptability to psychedelia with the single "Itchycoo Park" and much of their other 1967 output, but Ogden's Nut Gone Flake pretty much ripped the envelope. British bands had an unusual approach to psychedelia from the get-go, often preferring to assume different musical "personae" on their albums, either feigning actual "roles" in the context of a variety show (as on the Beatles' Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album), or simply as storytellers in the manner of the Pretty Things on S.F. Sorrow, or actor/performers as on the Who's Tommy. The Small Faces tried a little bit of all of these approaches on Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, but they never softened their sound. Side one's material, in particular, would not have been out of place on any other Small Faces release -- "Afterglow (Of Your Love)" and "Rene" both have a pounding beat from Kenny Jones, and Ian McLagan's surging organ drives the former while his economical piano accompaniment embellishes the latter; and Steve Marriott's crunching guitar highlights "Song of a Baker." Marriott singing has him assuming two distinct "roles," neither unfamiliar -- the Cockney upstart on "Rene" and "Lazy Sunday," and the diminutive soul-shouter on "Afterglow (of Your Love)" and "Song of a Baker." Some of side two's production is more elaborate, with overdubbed harps and light orchestration here and there, and an array of more ambitious songs, all linked by a narration by comic dialect expert Stanley Unwin, about a character called "Happiness Stan." The core of the sound, however, is found in the pounding "Rollin' Over," which became a highlight of the group's stage act during its final days -- the song seems lean and mean with a mix in which Ronnie Lane's bass is louder than the overdubbed horns. Even "Mad John," which derives from folk influences, has a refreshingly muscular sound on its acoustic instruments. Overall, this was the ballsiest-sounding piece of full-length psychedelia to come out of England, and it rode the number one spot on the U.K. charts for six weeks in 1968, though not without some controversy surrounding advertisements by Immediate Records that parodied the Lord's Prayer. Still, Ogdens was the group's crowning achievement -- it had even been Marriott's hope to do a stage presentation of Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, though a television special might've been more in order. As with most Immediate Records releases, it has gone through multiple reissue cycles on vinyl and CD; the original LP came in a circular sleeve in keeping with the design of the cover, and was reissued in a more convention jacket during the 1970s and early '80s. Most of the CD versions until the 1990s were, in keeping with the poor state of the Immediate Records tape library, substandard in sound, but since 1994 or so there has been a succession of good-sounding digital remasterings.</p>— <b>Bruce Eder</b> |
| The Small Faces | The Small Faces | |
| The Smashing Pumpkins | Siamese Dream | <p>While <i>Gish</i> had placed the Smashing Pumpkins on the "most promising artist" list for many, troubles were threatening to break the band apart. Singer/guitarist/leader Billy Corgan was battling a severe case of writer's block and was in a deep state of depression brought on by a relationship in turmoil; drummer Jimmy Chamberlin was addicted to hard drugs; and bassist D'Arcy and guitarist James Iha severed their romantic relationship. The sessions for their sophomore effort, <i>Siamese Dream</i>, were wrought with friction -- Corgan eventually played almost all the instruments himself (except for percussion). Some say strife and tension produces the best music, and it certainly helped make <i>Siamese Dream</i> one of the finest alt-rock albums of all time.</p> <p>Instead of following Nirvana's punk rock route, <i>Siamese Dream</i> went in the opposite direction -- guitar solos galore, layered walls of sound courtesy of the album's producers (Butch Vig and Corgan), extended compositions that bordered on prog rock, plus often reflective and heartfelt lyrics. The four tracks that were selected as singles became alternative radio standards -- the anthems "Cherub Rock," "Today," and "Rocket," plus the symphonic ballad "Disarm" -- but as a whole, <i>Siamese Dream</i> proved to be an incredibly consistent album. Such compositions as the red-hot rockers "Quiet" and "Geek U.S.A." were standouts, as were the epics "Hummer," "Soma," and "Silverfuck," plus the soothing sounds of "Mayonaise," "Spaceboy," and "Luna." After the difficult recording sessions, Corgan stated publicly that if <i>Siamese Dream</i> didn't achieve breakthrough success, he would end the band. He didn't have to worry for long -- the album debuted in the Billboard Top Ten and sold more than four million copies in three years. <i>Siamese Dream</i> stands alongside Nevermind and Superunknown as one of the decade's finest (and most influential) rock albums.</p>— <b>Greg Prato</b> |
| The Smashing Pumpkins | Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness | <p>Billy Corgan hasn't done a very good job speaking on his own behalf over the past decade, so let me feed him a line from the Greek philosopher Pittacus that would make a much better case for his legacy: "The measure of a man is what he does with power." In 1995, nearly every other band at Smashing Pumpkins' level was in some way turning its back on its audience: Pearl Jam had started their principled retreat from the spotlight; U2 and R.E.M. were deep within their stagiest, most ironic phases and making their least satisfying music to date; Rivers Cuomo was well on his way towards making Pinkerton; Metallica discovered nail polish; and, of course, Kurt Cobain gave up on life itself. On a much smaller level, even Corgan's eternal rival Steve Malkmus had just released Wowee Zowee, a record whose sloppy sprawl was taken by Rolling Stone as proof that "Pavement are simply afraid to succeed."</p><p>Given this mid-decade valley, it's understandable that the 2xCD Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness would be sneered at as self-indulgent. The Smashing Pumpkins hadn't made their appearance at Hullabalooza yet, so many were unaware the band had a sense of humor*.* Still, their reputation was played for laughs. But Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness turned out to be one of the most generous records of the decade. During a time when rock heroes were hard to come by, Smashing Pumpkins took it upon themselves to make a record that only teenagers could love and for many it was the only one they needed.</p><p>I suppose it's worth mentioning I was 15 when Mellon Collie came out and I would've told you at the time it was my favorite album ever made. Finally, I thought, here was our White Album, Physical Graffiti, or The Wall, but we could watch its legend being constructed in real time without all the received wisdom. It's true, a double album reeks of 70s-style excess that tries to edify its creators. It was meant as Smashing Pumpkins' monument to itself. But in the case of Mellon Collie, it was the only format that could contain the songwriting streak Corgan was going through at the time. Anything shorter would've done his fans a disservice.</p><p>This is not an exaggeration. Cull the 14 best tracks from the concurrently recorded The Aeroplane Flies High singles collection and you either have the fourth best Smashing Pumpkins album (behind the perpetually underrated Adore, ahead of Pisces Iscariot) or a strong third disc that would've made Mellon Collie the greatest triple-LP ever made. What becomes more obvious with time is that Mellon Collie, unlike its most common comparison The Wall, has no conceptual framework. There is no plot, almost no filler, and the organization of its two discs is iffy at best: The second song on the seemingly chronological first disc Dawn to Dusk is "Tonight, Tonight", while disc two, Twilight to Starlight, contains all of the ugliest metal songs. So Mellon Collie is a Smashing Pumpkins record that just so happens to be 28 songs in length, stunning in both its stylistic range and overall excellence.</p><p>This is perhaps the only Smashing Pumpkins record where they acted like an actual band rather than Corgan and his resentful charges. It's hard to pinpoint where the influence of James Iha or D'Arcy came into play (not so with the phenomenal drumming of Jimmy Chamberlin), but with the oversight of producers Flood and Alan Moulder, Mellon Collie was developed through protracted jam sessions and personal interplay. Siamese Dream, for all of its symphonic grandeur, was a fairly standard rock album and a solitary one-- nearly all of the guitar and bass parts were rumored to have been performed by Corgan himself. Meanwhile, Mellon Collie indulges in styles more associated with hermetic artists-- ornate chamber-pop ("Cupid De Locke"), mumbly acoustic confessionals ("Stumbleine"), and synthesized nocturnes (mostly everything after "X.Y.U."). And it does so while feeling like the work of four people in a room.</p><p>Mellon Collie's remarkable breadth is the best indication of Corgan's ability to let loose. You could pick five songs at random and still end up with a diverse batch of singles that would make a case for Smashing Pumpkins being the most stylistically malleable multi-platinum act of the 90s. Maybe it wouldn't sell as many copies, but picture an alternate universe where heavy rotation met the joyous, mechanized grind of "Love", "In the Arms of Sleep"'s unabashed antiquated romanticism, the Prince-like electro-ballad "Beautiful", "Muzzle"'s stadium-status affirmations, or the throttling metal of "Bodies".</p><p>The ubiquity of the five songs that did become singles overshadows just how idiosyncratic and distinct they were in the scope of 1995. Has there been anything like "Tonight, Tonight" since? Orchestral strings typically signify weepy balladry or compositional pretension in rock music, not wonderful, lovestruck propulsion. While "Tonight, Tonight" is now inseparable from its Le Voyage dans la lune-inspired video, that the music existed without its guidance only stresses the Pumpkins' sonic creativity. "Thirty-Three" was the final and least heralded of the singles-- where on alt-rock radio was there room for a slowpoke, time-signature shifting country song with phased slide guitars and shuffling drum machines?</p><p>"Zero" and "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" are the ones that riled up the older folks and, yes, the lyrics are pissy and juvenile and fairly embarrassing. That said, they're far more interesting from a sonic perspective than they're often given credit for. They're the songs where Flood's digitized production fits better than the saturated, analog warmth Butch Vig lent to Siamese Dream. They're basically new wave performed as pop-metal.</p><p>And of course, there's "1979", the one everybody can agree on. On a record that reveled in 70s prog and pomp without being restricted to it, it sounds futuristic. And while just as youth-obsessed as everything else here, it's one of the few times where high school sounds like something that can be remembered fondly. Corgan loves to stress how it was the last song to make the record, and while its chorus does have an effortless charge embodying the "urgency of now," it's the only Mellon Collie song that functions best as nostalgia. That reading is no doubt abetted by another fantastic video, but while "1979" is an unimpeachable song, the rush to praise it as an outlier does its surroundings a tremendous disservice. While Mellon Collie is the realization of all Billy Corgan's ambitions, most of the criticisms surround the lyrics for not being as personal as those on the tortured Siamese Dream. It's this way by design.</p><p>The terms "sad machines" and "teen machines" are interchangeably used during "Here Is No Why", a pep talk to the outwardly sullen mopes who Corgan urges to break free of either and ascend like its heroic guitar solo. "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" is notorious for its chorus, but teen angst doesn't fight fair; you need some seriously heavy ammo to resist it. The mudslide of distortion that ushers in its bridge leads towards two minutes of the most viscerally exciting music that Smashing Pumpkins produced. Then immediately after, the mournful "To Forgive" devastates with a personal detail that gives Corgan credibility in all of this: "And I remember my birthdays/ Empty party afternoons." This is the kind of youthful, inexplicable emotional whiplash that can result in an immolating hatebomb called "Fuck You (An Ode to No One)" being followed by a giddy proclamation that "love solves everything." It's clearly not a mature way of dealing with life, but that's only a problem if you somehow believe Mellon Collie isn't meant as rock 'n' roll fantasy. When Corgan declares "I know that I was meant for this world" during "Muzzle", it's your happy ending.</p><p>So, yes, most people who have developed a meaningful relationship with Mellon Collie did so in their youth. The question is whether you can get anything new from this in 2012. As with all of the Smashing Pumpkins reissues, Mellon Collie is giving: the Deluxe boxed set justifies its sticker shock by containing "re-imagined cover art, velvet-lined disc holder and decoupage kit for creating your own scenes from the Mellon Collie Universe," which is everything you'd imagine and thensome. There are an extra 64 tracks and only a few of them appeared on The Aeroplane Flies High, though most of these inclusions are demos or alternate takes, the sort of thing that should only be listened to multiple times by people who are being paid to do so, i.e., music critics and Flood.</p><p>But there is a way of hearing the same album differently as you refract it through your own experiences. "Thru the Eyes of Ruby" is rumored to have contained 70 guitar tracks; it's a wedding vow punctuated by Corgan snarling "youth is wasted on the young." This isn't meant to negate the intent of the 90 minutes that preceded it, it's a reminder of how Mellon Collie can communicate different things to someone who's 30 as opposed to 15. Revisiting it can feel like leafing through a high school yearbook-- not necessarily your own, just somebody's. And there's solace in how, for all of the navel-gazing that went on, the ridiculousness of it all somehow escapes you. What you wore, how you spoke, what you felt not so much seeming normal as just the way it is. You look at each person, thinking that they might hope to achieve the self-actualization promised by "Muzzle", to lose themselves in another person in the manner described by "Beautiful" or "In the Arms of Sleep", or to embrace their own awkwardness as a rallying cry like "We Only Come Out at Night". Those events were all right around the corner, as they are for just about anybody growing up, but when you're locked up in your room listening to Mellon Collie for hours on end, they seem as distant and fantastical as the album cover. When Corgan sings "believe in me" during "Tonight, Tonight", you don't have much of a choice if you want to escape.</p><p>I'd like to say "they don't make 'em like this anymore," which is true if you want to talk about rock bands who make double-LPs that sell 10 million copies thanks in part to lavish videos that air constantly on MTV. They do make 'em like this, in spirit, albeit very rarely-- 2012 appears to be just as hostile as 1995 was towards embracing the life-altering possibilities of classic rock or pursuing actual populism. It's no wonder Corgan is so agitated about the state of rock music these days, since his critics won. But every now again, there will be something like M83's Hurry Up, We're Dreaming and Japandroids' Celebration Rock-- that get there in their own way and express what the Pumpkins did on "Tonight, Tonight", that "the impossible is possible tonight," as in right now. They have little to do with Mellon Collie except that they sacrifice being cool to show a deep respect for the way teenagers interact with music. When the world is a vampire, you don't want history lessons or a list of influences, you want fucking magic. You don't want lifestyle music, you don't want Our Band Could Be Your Life. You want music that you can live inside. Damn right Smashing Pumpkins shot for the moon on Mellon Collie, but only because they wanted to give you the sun and the stars.</p><p>— <strong>Ian Cohen, Pitchfork</strong></p> |
| The Smashing Pumpkins | Greatest Hits | |
| The Smiths | Louder Than Bombs | |
| The Strokes | Room On Fire | <p>Okay, can someone please remind me why The Strokes were such a polarizing force about two years ago? Listening to Is This It last week had me scratching my head over how it managed to become the Roe vs. Wade of the rock crit world in 2001, with everyone forced to choose sides: "saviors of rock!" or "everything that's wrong with music today!" At the time, I found myself in the latter category, ironically earning myself a spot on this very staff with a lengthy diatribe against the band's hype machine, socioeconomic background, and rampant influence-pilfering. You know, basically everything but the music. I feel pretty silly about such grandstanding nowadays, having finally listened to, and embraced, at least the show-stopping middle third of The Strokes' debut. But with the release of Room on Fire, both sides of The Great Strokes Debate look a little foolish; NYC's finest have all but given birth to an identical twin. In the interim, a perplexing flirtation with Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich ("you know, 'Last Nite' was just a few lasers away from being perfect!") was scrapped, and the band's relentless touring failed to lead them down the cockier, arena-rock path some suspected they'd travel. Instead, Room on Fire is eleven songs sharing DNA with its predecessor, a follow-up of more sleepy, contagious mono-pop that doesn't sound diligently recorded so much as yawned out. This is far from a bad thing, largely because The Strokes seem almost pathologically unable to write a song that isn't immediately catchy. Tracks like "Reptilia", "Meet Me in the Bathroom", and "Under Control" take their place alongside the highlights of the band's debut, all hitting that perfect contrast of woozy nonchalance and taut guitar work that appears to be the alpha and omega of their stylistic inventory. That there's nothing new or innovative to be found here is sure to be a common complaint, though only those who prize evolution over knowing one's strengths will cry fraud. Speaking of the originality quotient-- and not to add more historical tinder to the fire of what bands The Strokes supposedly owe a debt to, but-- lead guitarist Nick Valensi is sweating The Pixies' Joey Santiago something fierce here. His development is the only newish detail I can detect on Room on Fire, and it's an inspiration that lends improvement; Santiago's beautifully simple lead lines were The Pixies' secret weapon, and Valensi employs a similar humble style to lend a melodic counterpoint to the proceedings. Whether showing up at the Halloween party as The Cars' keyboard on "12:51" or contributing slow-hand solos to "What Ever Happened?" and "You Talk Way Too Much", it's an extra spritz of tuneship that only assists The Strokes' infectious ways. Of course, Julian Casablancas is a far cry from Frank Black as vocalists go, but it can at least be said that he knows his place through Room on Fire. Wisely avoiding the unbecoming screaminess of subpar Is This It tracks like "Take It or Leave It" and "New York City Cops", he instead applies a cough syrupy croon to "Under Control" and "The End Is No End", its bum notes smoothed out by his payphone vocal effect addiction. Casablancas also appears to have moved beyond the smirking misogyny of his early lyrics, just as the cover art is sagely chosen to continue the abstract graphic theme of the Stateside edition of Is This It rather than the Smell the Glove-style UK version. Meanwhile, the rhythm section, the band's Achilles' heel, continues to miraculously scrape by, lending these tracks a vaguely new wave air despite slack-limp playing (hey guys, trade Godrich's number for the DFA's and you might be onto something). Drummer Fabrizio Moretti has always tended to sound a bit like a drum machine, and here his best work happens when he shares the drummer's stool with a sampler-- "The Way It Is" and "Meet Me in the Bathroom" shuffle with the best technology 1983 had to offer. Bassman Nikolai Fraiture, mostly relegated to backbone status on this outing, carries less of the band's melodic weight than he did on Is This It but gets a front-of-stage moment on the perfectly choreographed breakdown of "Reptilia". It remains to be seen whether old white men will continue to trumpet The Strokes as leading the cause of hiphopicide, and if young white idealists will stand firm on the opposite side, regarding the band as the Nike of indie rock (and no doubt fixating their conspiracy theories on Casablancas' sarcastic aside "keepin' down the underground, oh no!"); what's clear is that The Fab(rizio) Five neither deserve, nor desire, either status-- their goals are about as unpretentious and uncomplicated as possible. They may not be able to get away with milking this formula for many more albums, but for now, Room on Fire's eleven songs find them drowsily getting away with what they do best.</p><p>— <strong>Rob Mitchum, Pitchfork</strong></p> |
| The Vines | The Vines | |
| The Who | My Generation [Deluxe Edition] | <p>As many Who fans know, disputes between the Who and producer Shel Talmy held back the release of a CD version of <em>My Generation</em> taken from the best available original sources for quite some time. Eventually the dispute was resolved, and 2002 saw the release of the deluxe edition of this classic album, expanded into a two-CD work with the addition of no less than 17 extra tracks. So is it time to celebrate and finally throw away that scratchy old <em>My Generation</em> LP, whichever version of that you have? Unfortunately, not quite. Pluses first: The sound, remixed in stereo by Talmy, is very good indeed, very clear and punchy without sacrificing the enormous power the band brought to the sessions, sometimes revealing parts with a clarity never before heard. This also, finally, adds some seminal non-LP tracks also recorded in 1965 (most notably their debut single, "I Can't Explain"), as well as a bunch of R&B cover outtakes that previously surfaced on the 1980s comps <em>Who's Missing</em> and <em>Two's Missing</em>.</p><p>There are also slightly longer versions of a few tracks; an instrumental track for "My Generation" and an "a cappella version" of "Anytime You Want Me"; and one genuine previously unheard song, "Instant Party Mixture," a weird and not good takeoff on Dion's "Runaround Sue" that was recorded in early 1966 as a possible B-side. So what's to carp about? Well, some overdubs used in the original version of the LP have been lost, and their loss is not just something that audiophiles or unhealthily completist record collectors will notice. Specifically, on "My Generation," Pete Townshend's guitar is virtually missing from the instrumental break, and the group's backup vocals at the song's climax are likewise mostly missing. Other little omissions crop up too, and though this compilation makes up for that a bit with "monaural versions with guitar overdubs" of "My Generation" and "A Legal Matter," it's no small loss. Also, unbelievably, although "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere" is here (and misspelled on the cover), it's an alternate version with different vocals from a French EP. It's fine to include that, but the classic single version itself, a tremendously exciting and important record, isn't present at all, and no one could reasonably claim there shouldn't have been room for both. Too, the version of "Leaving Here" is an alternate, and while that's fine to have as a marginally interesting addition, the version that first showed up on <em>Who's Missing</em> is, um, missing.</p><p>These shortcomings are not unimportant. If a group and label are going to bill something as the ultimate package of classic album-plus-bonus tracks, it should have everything you want to hear. This deluxe edition doesn't. This doesn't, of course, mean that it doesn't contain much great music, particularly the <em>My Generation</em> album itself, a <em>tour de force</em> of British mod music maturing from R&B rave-ups into melodic power pop with riveting instrumental and lyrical hooks. It is also good to hear the nice early R&B cover B-sides "Daddy Rolling Stone" and "Anytime You Want Me," and while the R&B-oriented outtakes of Motown songs like "(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave" aren't so good, as historical documentation they're important. The sessions are also documented nicely in a booklet of liner notes. But no doubt we'll have to wait for the SACD or DVD or some such configuration to correct some of these flaws and separate us from more of our hard-earned cash.</p><p>— <strong>Richie Unterberger</strong></p><hr/><p>The Who got bigger, brainier, better and generally tougher as they grew. But they were never as fiercely raw as they were on their first album, My Generation. In 36 minutes, they tore through the conventions of British rock 'n' roll until they found a place they could call their own. Five decades after its release, the album stands as one of rock music's greatest debuts.</p><p>For its 50th anniversary, My Generation has been expanded to a five-CD Super Deluxe Edition that adds new mixes, B-sides, singles, alternate takes and demos. And over the course of more than 75 tracks, the set sketches out a template the Who would build from and break down several times during their career, pulling in everything from R&B rave-ups and chiming pop to scorching rock 'n' roll and proto-punk anarchy.</p><p>While much of this material has surfaced on other collections, including previous anniversary editions of My Generation, the set attempts to wrangle most of the period's songs into one place. A few strays from earlier editions, mostly different alternate versions, are missing, but the Super Deluxe Edition is the most representative collection of a pivotal year in the life of the Who, starting with the "I Can't Explain" single from early 1965.</p><p>The center of it all is the My Generation LP, included here in a newly remastered mono mix and a stereo mix of the album from 2014 that was previously available only on iTunes. Both versions heighten the guitars and pulsing rhythm section that drive songs like "The Kids Are Alright," "A Legal Matter" and the classic title tune. The bonus tracks here -- shuffled between mono and stereo mixes, and including some of the singles and B-sides released before and after the album came out -- serve as jagged bookends to the LP's dozen tracks.</p><p>It's a vivid portrait of the Who's first several months as professional recording artists. All these years later, the explosive clash of garage-rock R&B and serrated pop from this period that later helped form their identity sounds like a launching point of things to come -- from Roger Daltrey's throaty vocals to Pete Townshend's whipping guitar attacks to that thing Keith Moon did on the drums where he was never quite on the beat but powered the rhythm all the same.</p><p>The weakest disc here, the one dedicated to almost a dozen Townshend demos from the era, provide the sketches (and, in one case, just a fragment) for the full-band takes. They're interesting as starting points, but they don't approach the force of the released versions. (Three of the songs are brand new to Who fans; Townshend discovered the stashed-away demo tapes in 2015.)</p><p>And that's why My Generation matters the most. As the band grew and got more popular, Townshend took control as its chief songwriter and architect. This Super Deluxe Edition of the Who's debut is all about the band -- before the rock operas, fringe jackets and trashed hotels -- in all of its raging glory.</p><p>— <strong>Michael Gallucci</strong></p> |
| The Who | Live At Leeds | <p>This two-disc set <I>should</I> be the final word regarding the Who's February 14, 1970, performance at Leeds University. The main impetus for consumers — who may have repurchased this title in its various formats — is having the entire <I>Tommy</I> rock opera intact. While impressive, that performance merely scratches the surface of the multifaceted sonic and visual improvements that exist on the <I>Live at Leeds (Deluxe Edition)</I>. The 1995 single-disc restoration of <I>Live at Leeds</I> more than doubled the original six-track album, which consists of all the non-<I>Tommy</I> material performed that evening. This deluxe edition features the Who's entire performance — albeit in a somewhat truncated form. To accommodate a seamless inclusion of <I>Tommy</I> onto the second disc, "Shakin' All Over," "My Generation," and "Magic Bus" have been taken from their chronologically correct place at the end of the entire show and relocated to the end of the first (read: non-<I>Tommy</I> disc).</p><p>Even though drastic improvements augmented the 1995 release, time considerations meant that some ambience and stage dialogue between the band and the audience was still missing. With the expansion to a two-CD format, much of the previously edited material has been reinstated to reflect the actual pacing of the show more accurately. This new mix — supervised by Pete Townshend (guitar/vocal) — is an all-encompassing stereoscape which has never felt more intimidating. Although no mention is made in the information- and memorabilia-laden 28-page liner-notes booklet, vocalist Roger Daltrey performed several vocal overdubs during <I>Tommy</I> which are unique to this release. Although not impossible to locate, they blend surprisingly well with a recording that is fairly old. <I>Live at Leeds (Deluxe Edition)</I> is a must-own release for any rock & roll collection.</p><p> — <B>Lindsay Planer</B></p> |
| The Who | Who's Next | <P>The Who's catalog was revamped in the mid-'90s, with every title (except My Generation, due to legal entanglements with producer Shel Talmy) receiving new remastering and bonus tracks. Nearly eight years later, Who's Next, one of the group's most beloved albums, was given another remastered/expanded treatment as part of Universal Chronicles' Deluxe Edition series. Now it spans two discs, including a full disc devoted to their legendary show at the Young Vic on April 26, 1971. Reportedly, this is also the first time the original master tapes were used for a CD master as well, and while the difference isn't as dramatically different as it was from the 1984 CD to the 1995 CD, this is a richer, resonant mix, which may be reason enough for some fans to acquire it. Most collectors will focus on the bonus material, all of which ranges from very good to great, yet the set on the whole gets a qualified recommendation for one very simple reason: The greatest of the material here was already featured as bonus material on the 1995 reissue. True, some of the versions were present as single edits, but the greatest songs — "Pure and Easy," a rollicking cover of "Baby Don't You Do It," the live set pieces "Naked Eye" and "Water," "Too Much of Anything," "I Don't Even Know Myself," the original take of "Behind Blue Eyes" — were all bonus tracks on the previous edition (this is not counting the fact that the electric version of "Love Ain't for Keepin'," which is really good, is also on Odds & Sods). That said, there is some unreleased music here that is either fascinating (the first take of "Won't Get Fooled Again," which sounds as if it's on the verge of collapse) or excellent (the whole of the Young Vic show, where you can hear the band get its strength back; it's a truly fine concert). But no matter how good, or even revelatory, some of this is, the end result feels underwhelming because any Who fan has heard the most crucial music here before (and those who enjoy nitpicking will surely wonder why there wasn't more of an effort to present Lifehouse rejects and outtakes here instead of a full concert). If you're a fan, Who's Next: The Deluxe Edition is like paying a bill — buying it is something that needs to be done, you're glad once it's done, but it's not something you're necessarily eager to do. — <B>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</B> <P> </P><P>Few albums in the pantheon of classic rock recordings embody the greatness of an artist more than 1971's Who's Next. Arguably the Who's finest effort, the album came at a time when the group was at its creative peak. Fresh off the monumental success of the rock opera Tommy in 1969, the band had ridden a wave of critical acclaim for the album and subsequent live performances of its material, highlighted by memorable gigs at the Metropolitan Opera House, Woodstock, and the Isle of Wight. The scope of Tommy had drawn attention to Pete Townshend's emerging genius as a songwriter, and in the process set a standard that he would be measured by throughout the Who's illustrious career. The viability of Tommy as a recorded and live vehicle had given Townshend renewed confidence in his own abilities, and had motivated him to take on larger challenges. His primary focus post Tommy came in the form of the Lifehouse project, a grandiose look at the possibilities of music in a futuristic setting. Townshend's idealized views on rock and roll as an element of one's being, laid the groundwork for an elaborately sophisticated creation consisting of a feature film, expansive album, and interactive live concerts. While plausible to Townshend, the intricate blueprint for musical salvation proved to be a logistical impossibility, and the project gradually unraveled into disarray. In spite of its failure to reach fruition, the Lifehouse project yielded enough quality recorded material to assemble the nine-song album Who's Next. At the time, no one could have foreseen the magnitude of this release, particularly Townshend himself who had viewed it as a commercial compromise of his Lifehouse vision.</P><P>Despite Townshend's initial misgivings, the magnitude of Who's Next is undeniable. The scope of its grandeur is evidenced by every track having become an FM radio staple, with much of the album's material incorporated into the Who's long standing concert set list. While each song is memorable in its own right, most notable are "Won't Get Fooled Again", which has reached rock anthem status, and the John Entwistle penned "My Wife" that proudly displays the bassist's skills as a songwriter. Simply put, it is as close to perfect an album as could be imagined. How then could a recording of this stature be improved upon? Read on. </P><P>MCA has given Who aficionados an early Christmas present with the release of Who's Next Deluxe Edition. The original album has been coupled with added songs, and a complete second disc has been included featuring a live Lifehouse performance at London's Young Vic Theater. Altogether, the twin CD set provides twenty-nine tracks totaling two and a half hours of vintage Who material. Additionally, an updated Townshend essay describing the Lifehouse project is featured, as well as extensive liner notes that shed light on the history of the album's recording processes.</P><P>Disc 1 is comprised of 15 tracks; Who's Next in its entirety, and six newly remastered recordings from early studio sessions that did not make the final album cut. Alternate versions of "Getting in Tune", "Love Ain't for Keeping", and "Behind Blue Eyes" give listeners slightly different looks at the material, while the original recorded version of "Pure and Easy" showcases the song's melodic beauty. The inclusion of an extended Motown cover of "Baby Don't You Do It" harkens back to the group's early club days and provides an interesting counterbalance to the album's more readily recognized tracks. The most fascinating of the additional material comes by way of a previously unreleased alternate version of "Won't Get Fooled Again". This take utilizes a different synthesizer track than the traditional version and is missing Daltrey's trademark scream. Overall, the six additional listings supply a welcome compliment to the album's original nine songs.</P><P>Disc 2 offers remixed versions of fourteen songs performed at the Young Vic during the Spring of 1971. Taking place at roughly the same time as gigs at Leeds and the Isle of Wight, this Lifehouse concert maintains the distinctive live sound from the period, and includes much of the same material from those shows. It also provides evidence of the Who's ability to flawlessly transition brilliant studio material to the stage. Featured tracks from Who's Next include "Love Ain't for Keeping", "Behind Blue Eyes", "Getting in Tune", "Bargain", and "Won't Get Fooled Again". Fiery covers of "Young Man Blues" and "Road Runner" are included in the set, as are somewhat lesser played, but no less potent renditions of "Pure and Easy", "I Don't Even Know Myself", "Too Much of Anything", and "Time Is Passing". Also in the set is an outstanding trio of concert mainstays "Water", "My Generation", and "Naked Eye". Throughout the performance, Daltrey's vocals are strong and gritty, Moon's drumming is sharp, Entwistle lays down his usual virtuoso thunder, and Townshend's guitar playing is flawless.</P><P>The Deluxe Edition of Who's Next is noteworthy for two reasons. First, in an age of rampant re-releases and often sub par offerings, MCA has deviated from the curve and put together an exemplary package of material for Who fans. The sound quality on both CD's is excellent, while the booklet included is informative and enlightening. Second, the creative dynamic that went into the aborted Lifehouse project can be more fully appreciated as a greater amount of original material is made available. Townshend's musical vision may have been ahead of its time, but three decades later his songs still resonate with power and passion. For the most part, Who's Next rose like a Phoenix from the ashes of Lifehouse, catching lightning in a bottle as the group was at its pinnacle of greatness. Now, the album returns to much of its original conceptualized splendor, making it even better.</P> |
| The Who | My Generation - The Very Best Of The Who | <p>The Who have issued more greatest-hits collections than any other major artist, releasing a vast array of compilations while they were together and in the years following their breakup. Released in 1996, My Generation: The Very Best of the Who was intended to be the definitive single-disc collection, replacing all the others that preceded it. While it is a very good collection, it just misses being a definitive sampler. Essentially, My Generation is a replica of Who's Better, Who's Best that adds four tracks that were missing from the previous compilation, including the seminal post-Tommy single "The Seeker" and the original single mix of "Magic Bus." My Generation isn't strictly a singles collection, since it contains such album rock staples as "Baba O'Riley" and the full-length version of "Won't Get Fooled Again." It also spans the group's entire career, so it has a bit of a scattershot feel to it -- "You Better You Bet" sounds a little odd next to tense early singles like "Substitute" and "I Can See for Miles." The career-spanning approach doesn't make for as cohesive a collection as Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy, but it does mean that My Generation is an excellent -- even necessary -- introduction. There's a lot more in the Who's catalog that needs to be heard, but My Generation does boil down the most essential items (even though the abominable "Squeeze Box" is included) to a fine single-disc set.</p><p>— <strong>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</strong></p> |
| The Who | Face Dances | <p>Without Keith Moon, the Who may have lacked the restless firepower that distinguished their earlier albums, but Face Dances had some of Pete Townshend's best, most incisive compositions since Quadrophenia. "Don't Let Go the Coat" was one of his better odes to Meher Baba, "You Better You Bet" was a driving rocker, as was the rueful "Cache Cache," while "How Can You Do It Alone" was a solid ballad. While Townshend's songs were graceful and introspective, Roger Daltrey delivered them without any subtlety, rendering their power impotent.</p><p>— <strong>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</strong></p> |
| The Who | The Who Hits 50! | <p>The Who need no excuse to release a new compilation -- since 1994, a new collection has appeared roughly at the rate of one every three years -- but the band's 50th anniversary does provide the opportunity for a splashy new compilation, the first since 2009's Greatest Hits. Snappily titled The Who Hits 50!, by virtue of spanning two full CDs the set does cast a wider net than either Greatest Hits or 2004's Then & Now, beginning with the stiff R&B of the High Numbers' "Zoot Suit" and concluding with the brand-new "Be Lucky," a delirious revival of Pete Townshend's purple, overwritten '80s midlife crisis. In between those two songs come 40 tracks, including some genuine surprises -- the bonkers mod anthem "Dogs" and its Beach Boys-aping flip "Call Me Lightning," the band's cover of the Stones' "The Last Time," the first appearance of "Relay" in a comp in ages, John Entwistle's paranoid "Trick of the Light" -- but for the most part, this serves up the same songs that have popped up again and again on Who compilations over the years. This may be predictable but as a collection of basics, either for fair-weather fans or newcomers, it does its job well and it has nice artwork to boot.</p><p>—<strong>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</strong></p> |
| The Yardbirds | Five Live Yarbirds |
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