Pete Townshend “Psychoderelict”
Pete Townshend made his reputation on the concept album and he was not giving up on it. “Psychoderelict” begins with a reporter talking about a fictional, washed up British rocker by the name of Ray High, who can’t make albums anymore. The news report is soon interrupted by a great ruckus of Rock — “English Boy” is a musical statement of purpose with guitars borrowed from “Achtung Baby.” It’s almost a classic Townshend anthem. The juxtaposition screams: “Yes I’m still here. Yes I can still rock! Yes I am still writing concept albums!” But, then there’s more news and talking.
Ian Hunter “Short Back ‘n’ Sides”
He was never, exactly, a Rock Star, though he achieved the height of success. For almost fifty years, he has always worn sunglasses in public because, according to him, he is sort of, but not exactly, albino. He is not, exactly, as poetic as Bob Dylan or as artful, exactly, as David Bowie. But he sure can sound a lot like both of them. Ian Hunter has never, exactly, been any one thing. And he has always, almost, been everything. 1981 was the dawn of New Wave. It seemed plausible, at least, that the “always almost” singer had been passed over by time. It turned out that Mick Jones of The Clash, Hunter’s number one fan, would consider nothing of the sort.
Donovan “Sutras”
After the 1970s, Donovan was no longer a “popular” recording artist. He had no discernible fanbase, no radio airplay and no American record label. Between 1984 and 1996, Donovan released no new music. While he was not making music, though, he continued to do something he had been doing for decades. He meditated. In the world of music, two of the most visible advocates for T.M. were Leonard Cohen and George Harrison. But a slightly younger and more bearded, Gen X-er has followed in their footsteps. And Rick Rubin promised Donovan the same spare, but royal, treatment that had just worked wonders for Johnny Cash.
Steve Miller Band “Italian X Rays”
By 1983, the Steve Miller Band was, perhaps unknowingly, a cynical Pop music algorithm. With each record they had become more refined in their cynicism and in the lack of struggle and humanity in their music. While it no doubt took a great deal of work and talent to make the music that Miller made then, none of the grit could be heard. “Abracadabra” was the Steve Miller Band at its most optimized and at its Waterloo. His follow-up to “Abracadabra” was 1984s “Italian X Rays,” an album that pushed the algorithm so far as to make one wonder if Miller was being ironic or experimental.
Jeff Tweedy “WARM”
Well, he did it. It’s not a perfect record. Far from it. It’s not his best music. No. But I suspect Jeff Tweedy will never get closer to something as honest, as definitive and as unflinchingly empathetic as he does on “WARM.” This is monumental, middle-aged, dude stuff. It is what the other side of decades of therapy sounds like for one of the greatest songwriters of the last thirty years. It’s a search for meaning through empathy and self-acceptance in the second half. If “WARM” were presented to me as the Old Testament for some sort of cultish men’s group, I’m pretty sure I’d sign up.
Little Richard “Lifetime Friend”
Of Rock’s 50s pioneers, Little Richard proved to be the least enduring. While Elvis kept cranking out hits, Richard made the occasional Gospel record and live album. For decades, he battled crippling drug addiction and struggled for sexual self-acceptance. After his historic early run, much of the 60s and 70s were a messy blur. But then, in 1985, Richard was surprisingly cast in the hit film, “Down and Out in Beverly Hills,” catapulting him back into contemporary popular culture. He pounced on the opportunity and quickly released “Lifetime Friend,” his first (and last) album of Rock and Roll in over a decade.
Jimmy Page “Outrider”
“Outrider” is the only solo album Jimmy Page has ever made. He was forty four, sober, and a father again, when it was released in June of 1988. He had reportedly been working on ample and varied solo material since Zeppelin broke up but was sidetracked by his work with The Firm. In fact, by the mid-80s, Page was said to have plans to release a double album of solo material, organized by the eclectic genres he was tackling. But, then, his house was burglarized and his demos were stolen and never recovered. So, if there is an ambitious, essential, Jimmy Page double album in the ether, we will never know. We will never know if he had his second half opus. What we do know is that “Outrider” is not it.
Stephen Stills “Right by You”
At twenty one, Stephen Stills wrote and performed the era-defining “For What It’s Worth,” with Buffalo Springfield. At twenty three, he wrote and performed “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” At twenty five, he released a genuinely wonderful solo debut that featured “Love The One You’re With.” After that, things got progressively worse. Eventually, they got much worse. He did not quickly lose the grip of his instruments. But he seemingly lost the grip on most everything else. Following a putrid foray near Disco in 1978, Stills took a break to ponder his great ascent and descent. Upon return, in 1984, he released “Right by You.”
Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds “Who Built The Moon?”
The story of the High Flying Birds’ third solo album, “Who Built The Moon?”, is the story of an artist being asked by a producer to leave all of his baggage behind. Quite literally, legendary U.K. producer and DJ, David Holmes, agreed to produce Gallagher’s record on the condition that he not bring any written songs into the studio. What Holmes did not know was that, even with just his guitars and pedals, Gallagher had enough songwriting tricks hidden in his pockets to at least fill a couple of carry ons.
Dave Davies “Chosen People”
Having one of the greatest songwriters of your time as your older brother can’t have been easy when you’re trying to create your own work. The first two Dave Davies solo albums are rough and heavy responses to brother Ray’s melodic instincts. Dave’s voice is mostly screaming. 1983s “Chosen People,” however, is a much more varied and measured affair that withstands his reedy voice, studio magic and the whole alien abduction thing.
Robert Plant “Now and Zen”
1988s “Now and Zen,” Plant’s fourth solo album, promised to be different from the first three. He was even reuniting with Jimmy Page for two songs. Fans were all worked up in a lather at the promise of a “return to form.” Many presumed that Page had gotten the experiments out of his system and was read to have sex with the Marshall amps again. Unfortunately for those die hards, what Page released was instead a weird, great late 80s, New Wave artifact.
Steve Perry “For the Love of Strange Medicine”
Steve Perry was bruised after Journey. But, in 1994, at the age of forty five, and nearly a decade in hibernation, he managed to release “For The Love of Strange Medicine.” For anyone wondering if he was OK after all that time, the clues would be scant. The Voice was still there, but the Man was missing. Not only does Perry not write about the personal on “Strange Medicine,” he sounds mired in a state of arrested development.
Robbie Robertson “Robbie Robertson”
Having a weak singing voice is a problem. In karaoke it can be tolerated with alcohol. But as a recording artist, you have a situation. There are many imperfect voices out there —Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Kris Kristofferson. But they offer something in return that the shiny voices lack: character and authenticity. Robertson’s voice has none of those things. It is strained and airy at its comfortable register. And when it drops down for something of weight, it sounds like Cookie Monster.
Neil Young “Trans”
As “Trans” boots up “Computer Age,” you have one of the great musical WTF moments of popular music. But once you adjust to the idea this is all going to sound like “Tron” looks, it can be pretty fun. The opener swings a bit more than some of the other robo-farting to come. In fact, it sounds like a theme song for the best cyber-cop on the force. It has what’s missing from most of the experiments that follow: a groove.
Tom Petty “Wildflowers”
A model middle aged album: leaner, cleaner, wiser, wearier. I feel like I’m driving around Gainsville in this album, and I leave town changed; more connected to summer nights, broken skylines, listening to the radio, something fading, stumbling into a bar I don’t belong in, finding a girl and escaping into a field, giggling, wondering later if I’m wasting it all.
David Crosby “Oh Yes I Can”
On his first solo album in almost twenty years, Crosby managed to sound quite vital on 1989s “Oh Yes I Can.” “Vital” as in “healthy,” rather than “essential.” There’s a big difference. His life story has been rich and compelling. He has been a cautionary tale and an inspirational voice. But, stripped of the counterculture and of his greatest collaborators, Croz ends up sounding like the guy playing on the small stage at a farmers market.
Paul Simon “Songs from The Capeman”
Was Paul Simon’s “Songs from The Capeman” a prescient vision of the coming of Lin Manuel Miranda? Was it the Doo-Wop Hamilton that no one could accept because it was written by a middle aged white guy? Or is it one of the great mid-career missteps? Spoiler alert: “The Capeman” is not really like “Hamilton” at all. It’s more like “West Side Story,” but with a long, boring reading section.
James Taylor “Never Die Young”
James Taylor is more opaque than Prince or Bob Dylan. Is he the genteel, humanist who invented Adult Contemporary music fifty years ago? Or is he an overly-sensitive, over-valued bar singer who succeeded by virtue of his good looks and birthright? By 1988s “Never Die Young,” Taylor had recently re-married and was still very much in the throes of a fledgling sobriety. It was a miracle he was alive, much less a viable recording artist. If ever there was a time reveal his true self, this was not it.
Randy Newman “Land of Dreams”
By the mid-80s, with his soundtrack work increasing, it began to sound like Randy Newman was losing focus — writing and composing for all of the disparate ideas piling up on his mental desk. Some were his own. Some were others’. Some were political. Some were literary. All had characters. Most sounded “personal” but none sounded “autobiographical.” 1988s “Land of Dreams,” like all of his previous albums, is a record about People in America. Unlike his previous albums, however, one of the People on “Land of Dreams” seems to be Randy Newman himself.
Mark Knopfler “Golden Heart”
By 1996, at age forty-seven, Mark Knopfler had resolved to slow everything down. He just didn’t want to be a Rock star any more. It was all kind of an accident to begin with. So, he disbanded Dire Straits. He wanted a slower, simpler life, befitting his middle age. However, Knopfler had two major problems. The first was that fans and filmmakers still wanted his songs. The second was that songs just poured out from him. So, what do you do when your blessing has become your curse?