Bob Seger “The Fire Inside”
Bob Seger has this trick where he basically lets two chords of guitar syncopate to a simple beat, repeating themselves, gradually building momentum until you want him to howl to just break the tension. And you know what Seger does, then? He fucking howls. He gives you what you want. It’s an indefensible trick. It’s like Kareem’s sky hook. Why didn’t Kareem only shoot his sky hook? The answer lies on Seger’s fourteenth studio album, “The Fire Inside.”
Tom Waits “Bone Machine”
Bob Dylan was known for his disappearances. He is unknowable. Tom Waits is sort of the opposite of Dylan, one of his many heroes. Tom Waits is the accumulation of everything. He’s Andy Kauffman. He’s Bob Dylan. He’s Jackson Pollack. He’s Jack Kerouac. He’s Marlon Brando. He’s Captain Beefheart. He’s a drunk pawnbroker. He’s a hobo. He’s a nowhere, nobody jazz singer. He’s an actor. He’s a lounge lizard. In fact, Tom Waits might be the most accomplished artist of the later 20th century.
Michael Jackson “HIStory”
“HIStory” is the tipping point, where Michael’s work becomes a very defensive offense against his attackers and where he loses that thing that got us dancing in the first place. It is so much a response to headlines, that if you remove the context, some of these songs are just skeletal thumps and ‘hee-hee’s” echoing in the dark. “HIStory” is either awash in the goopiest of ballads or screaming at oppressors. He’s really turned into your tragic uncle who cries when he’s drunk.
George Harrison “Cloud Nine”
Coaxed, coached and sculpted by Jeff Lynne, it’s easy to wonder if “Cloud Nine” was a return to form, as it was frequently celebrated in 1987, or simply a Jeff Lynne product with George Harrison as a primary ingredient. Did Harrison find a well of creativity and really miss making popular music? Did he just want to provide a kindness to his fans? Or is the album a product, logically designed, developed and marketed by Lynne, the most ardent and famous of Beatle fans?
Sting “The Soul Cages”
This is the middle-aged therapy album. Not the raw scream “Mama don’t go” therapy of 1970 John Lennon. This is erudite stuff, real necktie and monocle material. A concert of this album would be advertised as “An Evening with Sting” and you could watch it seated. Once a spike-haired rock god, Sting was standing on the precipice of Adult Contemporary, and he was unafraid.
Don Henley “The End of the Innocence”
Don Henley — pretty, singular, brilliant, boring, insidious. Photo and video evidence from 1989 bears out these assertions. He stands there — broad shouldered lapel, serious face, a pony tail and, most importantly, a single lock falling out from the pulled back hair. Today, a tousled man bun is a misdemeanor. In 1989, it was a goddam crime. It was the murder of genuine surprise and pain in guitar-driven, Classic Rock.
Phil Collins “No Jacket Required”
I was driving my car and listening to the radio. The familiar intro to Tom Cochrane’s 1992 hit “Life is A Highway” made my soul drop. Ugh. Why didn’t this song go away? I pulled the car onto the shoulder so I could think. I wondered when was the last time I heard “Sussudio?” I sat for two hours. I couldn’t remember. Years. Maybe decades? “Sussudio” was one of two number one hits from Phil Collins’ “No Jacket Required.” It was huge. What had happened to it?
Bob Dylan “Shot of Love”
There have been countless revisionist takes on every part of Dylan’s career, including his “born again” phase. So, I guess you can add this to that pile. But, while I don’t feel original, I do feel so lucky that I came to this album without the baggage of trying to unpack in during its original context backlash. Today, it’s nothing short of a gift. Sure, Jesus is there. But, Dylan also conjures Levon Helm, Mavis Staples, Johnny Cash and most of his past lives.
Billy Joel “Storm Front”
Why is it that when Billy Joel kicks of his eleventh studio album, “Storm Front,” with a “one, two, three, four” count off -- fully invoking The Boss -- it sounds so cloying? Why do the critics adore Bruce and roll their eyes at Billy? After all, Billy Joel has written a lot of great songs. Songs that you want to sing along with. Songs that tell stories. So, why did Bruce win and Billy lose? The answer is, I think, complicated.
The Beach Boys “The Beach Boys Love You”
Promiscuity and excess have been the gold standard for rockers running in terror from the middle age slump. But there’s a less commonly utilized strategy that can be effective: regress farther. Past adult, past teenager, past kid. Go full baby. Wear only a bathrobe, write a song called “Ding Dang.” Build a sandbox in your bedroom and put your piano in the middle. Take one listen to “The Beach Boys Love You” and you will know that Brian Wilson alone conceived this deeply personal, bat-shit, Beach Boys in name only album.
David Bowie “Black Tie, White Noise”
After two bad albums Bowie was on the ropes. So, he decided not to come back as a solo artist, but as a humble member of a band called Tin Machine that everyone called “Shit Machine” behind his back. He went from the coolest guy on the planet to the guy no one would sit with in the school cafeteria. Ever the chameleon, though, newlywed Bowie shifted again. He returned in 1993 as a solo artist with the kind of loud, kind of danceable, “Black Tie, White Noise.”
Mick Jagger “She’s The Boss”
Mick Jagger was 42 when his solo debut came out. He was mack in the middle of his version of domesticity with Jerry Hall, on the heels of The Stone’s tepid “Undercover” and in a period of strain with Keith. Mick has stated that, with “She’s the Boss,” he wanted to establish himself as an artist outside of The Stones. Keith compared Mick to another legendary artist when he said of “She’s The Boss”: “It’s like Mein Kampf. Everyone owns a copy but nobody has listened to it.”
Jackson Browne “Hold Out”
Jackson Browne never changed his hair. It’s the one constant in music, maybe on Earth. It may be a wig. Jackson Browne has never rushed anywhere. Not for a plane, or a taxi, certainly not in a song. He’s steady. Like a pair of loafers. He also never reinvented music or tried to harness a hot new sound. He’s one of these anomalies that seemed to understand being old while young. I mean who writes a song as weary as “These Days” at sixteen?
Rod Stewart “Camouflage”
In the summer of 1984, Rod Stewart released “Camouflage,” a lightweight, occasionally fun, occasionally terrible and mostly disposable pop album. 1984 was also the year that Miami Vice debuted on TV. Looking back, it seems impossible that these two events were unrelated “Camouflage” sounds like a chipper soundtrack to “Miami Vice,” complete with lite intrigue, the pastel sex appeal, the white suit, the synths, the mechanical beats.
Lou Reed “The Blue Mask”
Most every Lou Reed solo album can sound like a middle age album. Even during his twenties and thirties, he seemed closer to death than most. But in 1982, the year he got sober, turned forty and released “The Blue Mask.” He fully surrendered to middle age. He sang about his house. His motorcycle. His average life. His wife (a lot). He reveled in it. He considered it. He adored it. And, thankfully, he also feared it.
Paul McCartney “Flowers in the Dirt”
1989’s “Flowers in the Dirt” was supported by Paul McCartney’s first tour since Wings and had a lot of press around it. It features four songs co-written with Elvis Costello. It was all there in the sticker on the cover of the album “a return to form”. All signs point towards creative rebirth. What could go wrong?
Bruce Springsteen “Human Touch”
In 1992 that after a five year absence, Bruce returned with two separate albums. He was an artist adrift, cast away from his bandmates, married for the second time, happy at last, but separated from his muse. On, “Human Touch”, we hear an exhausted attempt to keep going as a rocker, and on “Lucky Town”, we get an uneven breakthrough to the way forward. We are going to examine the former. Why? To honor the struggle.
Eric Clapton “Journeyman”
Is Eric Clapton god, as Londoners of the 60s claimed? Is he the world’s greatest guitarist? Is he a good songwriter? Can he even sing? Honestly, I have no clue. Without question, though, his most underrated talent is his fashion sense. In 1989, Clapton wore tortoise shell glasses and carried himself like the love child of Sting and Indiana Jones. Shit, he looked good. And I don’t mean “cool.” I mean “good.” BMW advertisement good. 1989 was also the year Clapton released his eleventh solo album, “Journeyman.”
Van Morrison “A Sense of Wonder”
Aside from a short divorce-inspired break between 1974’s “Veedon Fleece” and 1977’s “A Period of Transition,” Van Morrison had been plowing out an album a year since 1965. But, by 1984, on “A Sense of Wonder” we find Van noodling in instrumentals, snoozing through transcendental musings, and making professional Soul songs that try to access the Mystic through the back door of a synthesizer.
Tom Verlaine “The Wonder”
Following an increasingly sporadic period, in 1990 Tom Verlaine released his sixth solo album, “The Wonder.” The album is not commercially available anymore. Actually, it’s not clear that Tom Verlaine wanted the album to be released in the first place. The sound of this album could be described as “thin” or “cold” in the way that New Wave sounds when it veers into Adult Contemporary. Plus, Tom’s spoken word delivery could easily be mistaken for terrible rap. He also started wearing berets a lot around this time.