Jethro Tull “J-Tull Dot Com”
In the 90s, as Ian Anderson’s voice and body began to suffer, one could hear Jethro Tull slowing down. The albums were still ambitious and flute-filled and warmly received by Progressive Rock fans, but they were also less frequent. And, as time passed, Anderson’s voice no longer growled. Rather, it politely narrated the spaces in between his gymnastic melodies. The end of the Renaissance Fair came in 1999, with “J-Tull Dot Com.” a nominally conceptual album slash website advertisement that is just barely better than its title suggests.
Boston “Walk On”
Like the great Patriots teams of the twenty first century, Boston, the band, had a “next man up” ethos. Guitarist, producer and mastermind Tom Scholz had his system. No man, not even lead singer Brad Delp, was irreplaceable. But Scholz platinum selling system was tested in 1994’s “Walk On.” Could they still be great without Delp? Moreover, in a world that passed them over in favor of Alternative Rock and Hip Hop, could Boston even be relevant in 1994? The cover of “Walk On,” on which the famous Boston spaceship crashes into some uninhabited planet, seemed to portend disaster ahead.
Guns N’ Roses “Chinese Democracy”
The history of “Chinese Democracy” is both exceedingly well-documented and a mystery that resides only inside the Alx Rose’s mind. Almost everything I have read about the album, I receive suspiciously, assuming it’s less than half truth. And yet, I kind of believe all of it. It is a story so complex and bombastic that it is a wonder it has not yet been made into a film. It might, in fact, be a story too sprawling and epic for film. Unless, that is, Michael Bay is at the helm. “Chinese Democracy” could make “Armageddon” seem as darling and contained as a Wes Anderson movie.
AC/DC “Stiff Upper Lip”
No band was better engineered to achieve its end goal than AC/DC. The Beatles were far more musical. The Stones were more ambitious. Led Zeppelin was grander. But AC/DC — part teenage erection and part auto factory — only knew how to do two things: rock and roll. By 2000 — a year of declining CD sales, N Sync, Limp Bizkit and Christina Aguilera — could have been a watershed moment for the band. But, it wasn’t. They released “Stiff Upper Lip” and just kept doing what they were built to do.
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.
Ozzy Osbourne “No More Tears”
“No More Tears,” was released in the final, high days of Hair Metal and just before the germs of Alternative. It was also the first album Ozzy ever made not fucked up. So, to keep him upright, Sharon reassembled the A-Team -- Zakk Wylde on guitars, Randy Castillo on drums and bassist Bob Daisley. This band is the entire 1950s Ford Motor Plant. They make heavy things. They make them tight. They make them loud. The make Metal for people to buy.
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.
David Lee Roth “Your Filthy Little Mouth”
Any way I looked at it, the road led here. I couldn’t just go on listening to the tasteful, critically correct middle-aged stuff, could I? No. I knew at some point soon, that I’d have to eat the dog food. And so, last night, with genuine trepidation, I pressed play on David Lee Roth’s 1994 album, “Your Filthy Little Mouth.” Spanning metal, jazz, cabaret, reggae (don’t ask) and blues, the album is equally ambitious, aimless, slick, cheap, loud, fun, boring, safe and a complete mess.