Pazz and Jop 1971 – #11

The Beach Boys – Surf’s Up

I didn’t know the Beach Boys were still a thing in 1971. This album falls between the hits-keep-coming era and the Brian-Wilson-is-a-crazy-recluse era. I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of these songs, even live (I saw them at Sherkston in 1984, and roughly 10 years later at Canada’s Wonderland). I’ve also never played an entire Beach Boys record before (hits collections don’t count), revealing yet another gap in my listening career (“Pet Sounds” will accompany me on this morning’s walk), so it’s hard to put the record into context. Standouts were “Long Promised Road” and “Disney Girls”, the latter one of several tracks that make me wonder if Ben Folds played this on repeat during his formative years. (Need to reread his quite excellent autobiography, I guess.) There’s an overly earnest and not even slightly subtle political bent to some tracks, but, being the Beach Boys, it’s still a lot of fun. These include “Student Demonstration Time”, built on a fairly basic blues riff that is still a shocker because it’s coming from the bloody Beach Boys. Brian gets weird at the end with the title track (well, all three of his compositions here are pretty quirky), and despite having read Brian’s own explanation of the lyrics, I don’t think I can really trust him. It’s a beautiful tune that rewards repeat listening (I’m up to 6), with a stirring closing part that echoes “Good Vibrations”. Overall, a nice way to start a Saturday morning.

UPDATE: So, “Pet Sounds” kicks serious ass. I’m not surprised: not only is it consistently ranked among the greatest albums ever, but it also includes my all-time Beach Boys #1 “God Only Knows” (I could honestly sing the chorus to my wife (and probably have) – it’s a near-perfect pop song, and I could never fully trust the judgment of anyone who disagrees) and a certifiable Top 5 in “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”. Definitely being filed in the re-listen category.

(Originally posted on Facebook, April 10, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #10

David Bowie – Hunky Dory

I’ve never been much of a Bowie fan – loved the singles but rarely felt compelled to buy the whole album. Maybe it was a hangover from his Christmas duet with Bing Crosby sticking in my ear when I first became a serious member of the record-buying public: the man couldn’t be trusted since he might just do something that would annoy me enormously. Bowie’s vocals are never gentle, his lyrics (even on the singles) not easily accessible, and his style shifts from track to track.

I can’t really see myself playing this end-to-end again – too many tracks ended up not sitting right with me in one way or another – but there was a lot here that I loved. It starts with “Changes”, still great, of course (“Breakfast Club” shoutout), and the other single, “Life on Mars?”, never fails to move me with its swelling chorus. “Oh! You Pretty Things” mixes gentle verses with a rollicking chorus to distract from the Nietzsche-inspired notion of the new casually brushing away the old. (Check out Peter Noone’s uninspiring version for the sad answer to the question “What if Bowie had been in Herman’s Hermits?”) The vocals on “Kooks” (dedicated to his newborn son) first brought to mind Robin Gibb, and it’s a sweet, thoughtful tune with gentle strings and horn and a sort-of ragtime piano. The piano usually stands out, lending a jaunty barroom feel, especially on “Fill Your Heart”, despite the often eccentric vocal stylings. I really like the guitar sound on “Andy Warhol”, until the last minute when it becomes an assault. “Queen Bitch” is a frolic, the one true rocker on here, and, outside of “Kooks”, the only song here that I would label as fun. It closes with “The Bewlay Brothers”, an acoustic guitar forward, lyrically nonsensical epic that feels like it would fit in just fine on a Pink Floyd record.

Spotify does this thing where, when an album ends, they continue into what their algorithm thinks is a comparable artist. When “The Bewlay Brothers” ended, I was treated to The Cure’s “In Between Days”, followed by Roxy Music’s “More Than This”. These are two bands that I’ve listened to a lot more than Bowie, though I suspect I’ll be seeing more of Ziggy than Robert and Bryan on this journey. Since the point of this is discovery (with a touch of nostalgia), I’m okay with that.

(Originally posted on Facebook, April 3, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #9

Various – The Concert for Bangladesh

Another one that isn’t on Spotify, but someone has been courteous enough to put the entire thing on YouTube. This record is a lot more interesting as a cultural artifact than as a collection of music. I’m not generally a fan of live albums – I have this issue of wanting familiar songs to sound, you know, familiar (contradicted by my love of covers as reinvention, like M. Ward’s “Let’s Dance”, Scott Bradlee taking on Radiohead, or Richard Thompson and Fountains of Wayne giving Britney Spears a go) – but this outing is an exception. It is, of course, an epic accomplishment, the “We Are the World” or “Live Aid” of its day, without the, respectively, treacle or pomposity. The almost 17-minute long Ravi Shankar-led jam “Bangla Dhun” is bracing, and smartly opened the show before the audience was sated by the star power that would follow. Then you mostly get great artists singing already popular tunes. The other highlight for me was Leon Russell and Don Preston’s medley cover “Jumpin’ Jack Flash/Youngblood”, which has the energy and sense of the unexpected that only a live performance can deliver, but Bob Dylan messing with his own “Just Like A Woman” also makes an impression. Sometimes, a cultural artifact can still surprise you.

The playlist below is an excellent effort that gets as close as one can manage on Spotify to recreating this album.

(Originally posted on Facebook, March 28, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #8

The Kinks – Muswell Hillbillies

My first thought was that this fit in nicely with early ‘70s southern rock, which is a neat trick for a bunch of Brits. I’ve seen it described as country rock, but I don’t accept that: it takes more than a little slide guitar to make something country. There are bits of blues, and music hall piano flourishes. But what it really feels like is the song score for a musical theatre production: each track has that sense of a character stopping to sing part of the story. “Holiday” was the first place I noticed this (I even had the basic dance steps worked out in my head), but it could apply to pretty much anything here. The lyrics are rather glum in spots (the theme is essentially the destruction of a way of life thanks to government overreach in a specific London suburb), but done in such a fun way that you probably wouldn’t notice without reading the lyric sheet. Under the hauntingly beautiful melody of “Oklahoma U.S.A.” lurks the dark heart of an unsatisfying life. Other favourites include “Acute Schizophrenia Paranoia Blues”, “Skin and Bone”, “Alcohol” (check out Brad Paisley if you want an actual country song with this title) and “Holloway Jail”. The closer, “Muswell Hillbilly”, returns (somewhat) to the southern rock mode (Ronnie Van Zant would’ve owned this tune), and offers a hint of rebellion to the attempt to fit everyone into “identical little boxes”. From beginning to end, there isn’t a weak song on this record. A lovely surprise from a band I’ve never paid much attention to.

(Originally posted on Facebook, March 27, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – Potential Sin of Omission

Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On

Rolling Stone voters last year ranked this as the best album ever made. So, WTF was going on with (most) music critics in 1971 that it couldn’t even crack the Pazz and Jop top 20? It’s not like this was an unappreciated gem at the time: the album sold two million copies, spent over a year on the charts, and spawned three Top 10 singles. I don’t have any perspective on this: by the time I noticed the album’s existence, it was because I was being told it was great, so I have no way of judging 1971 listeners. But I don’t disagree with them.

Side one is a blur, and I’m only now realizing how much similarity there is between “Mercy Mercy Me” and the title track. It’s a soul record, but loaded down with so many strings that it has a jarring sweetness that feels years out of date and undermines the lyrical content. Songs flow smoothly into each other, echoing themes from the previous track, but this is an unfortunate sameness that limits how much any individual song can stand out. (If you can distinguish tracks 2 to 4 from each other, you’re much better at this than me.) Side two starts out cooking, but two-thirds through “Right On”, those damned strings are back, before coming back to life in the last 40 seconds or so, then reverting to form on the next track.

No, this isn’t the best album ever made. That’s just silly. I wanted to love this record, but I just can’t see it ever happening. It’s 3 or 4 good songs joined to background music for a boring dinner party. I’m going to give the 1971 critics a W for this one over the 2020 critics.

(Originally posted on Facebook, March 21, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #7

Sly and the Family Stone – There’s a Riot Goin’ On

At last, a black artist, the only one (I believe) to make the 1971 list. It’s certainly a comment on music criticism in 1971, though not music itself: individual critics cited records from Bill Withers, Marvin Gaye (“What’s Going On”, ranked the greatest album ever by Rolling Stone voters in 2020), Smokey Robinson & the Miracles and others, but there wasn’t enough collective support for any of these. So, how did Sly & company break through to get noticed in big enough numbers? (Trivia note – the album title is a direct response to Gaye’s query.)

There is soooo much going on in some of these songs – instruments competing with voices, or each other. And some weird stuff – slowed down vocals, yodelling (or a stoned man’s version), an unhealthy attachment to overdubbing. The bass playing (Drake’s uncle!) stands out (I do love a solid bass line) and a lot of it has an improvised feel, but it can also be discordant. (Sly does not care about your comfort.) It’s not a record for distracted listening if you’re trying to figure out what’s going on. Initially, I felt distanced from it, but by the side two opener “Brave & Strong” I was getting caught up in the experience. “Spaced Cowboy” was the most fun (yodelling!), and “Runnin’ Away” is bouncy (don’t listen too closely to what she’s singing if you want to enjoy this feeling) and relatively simple. The closer, “Thank You for Talkin’ to Me, Africa”, reworks and (I think) improves on “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin) by slowing it down, uncluttering the instrumentation and softening the vocals. A great palate cleanser to end a messy and heavily-seasoned record.

UPDATE: As I replayed the album on my morning walk, the sounds no longer unusual to me, I had even greater appreciation for it, with “Just Like A Baby” and “Time” especially standing out. The yodelling remains my favourite bit – had fellow beachfront walkers looked my way as it played this morning, my lunatic grin would have likely terrified them. I think Sly would approve.

(Originally posted on Facebook, March 20, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #6

Joy of Cooking – Joy of Cooking

I had never heard of Joy of Cooking before looking at this year’s list, and that as much as anything convinced me to start this project. They were pretty much done by 1972 and only three albums, and never had a true hit single to cement a place on AM radio. (They peaked at #66 on the US chart, with “Brownsville”, maybe the least interesting song here.) There are echoes of Janis Joplin and Carole King and Joni Mitchell and Maria Muldaur, and maybe that’s kind of sexist of me, comparing female artists (it’s a mixed gender band, but dominated by the two women) to other female artists, but that’s what I hear. And that’s quite a range. Some lovely harmonies (sometimes cut by Janis-y yelps), a folky or bluesy tune followed by barroom jazz (“Down My Dream” is hypnotic) or rock, but throughout it’s a piano-forward record (with dabbles of organ, especially pleasing on “Only Time Will Tell Me”). The genre-hopping (even within songs – I have no idea how you would categorize some of these tunes, someone should’ve told John Lennon that “Did You Go Downtown” is how you do a 6-minute song, and the almost 7-minute closer “Children’s House” is a genuine epic) is invigorating, and doesn’t detract from the unity of the record. It isn’t perfect – I found the harmonies on “Red Wine at Noon” jarring – but the music deserves a wider audience. This is my small part in that effort.

(Originally posted on Facebook, March 14, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #5

John Lennon – Imagine

Critics always preferred Lennon to McCartney, probably because he seemed more serious, more of an artist. But Paul’s music was definitely a lot more fun. The title track seemed very profound to me as a child when, of course, it’s really rather trite and simple and very much of its time. Yet the sentiment it expresses remains the noblest goal, and seemingly farther away than ever. “Crippled Inside” is a jaunty romp if you ignore what he’s singing about, and “Jealous Guy” remains as awesome as ever (though maybe a bit less now that I’ve just read it’s directed at PAUL!). There is no good reason for “I Don’t Wanna Be A Soldier Mama” to be 6 minutes long other than no one told him not to do that. (Phil Spector circling the drain can be blamed if you need a scapegoat.) There’s a lot of rage here, but it feels very mannered and without much subtlety. (Except the Paul dis “How Do You Sleep?” – referencing the cute Beatle’s “pretty face” is bloody brilliant.) Also, it’s great that you love your wife, but how many sappy ways do you need to tell us that on one album? (Though “Oh Yoko” is at least bouncy and fun.) Overall, the kind of ponderous work you’d expect from the smart Beatle – a few genuinely great songs, but not really something I’d ever venture to play straight through again.

BTW, I discovered a great site, Cover Me Songs, that gathered various cover versions of the songs on this album. A Perfect Circle’s sugar-free version of “Imagine” is soooooo good, and Donny Hathaway on “Jealous Guy” is Donny-fucking-Hathaway, so, yes, it’s brilliant and why are you even still reading this and not out looking for his version on Spotify?

(Originally posted on Facebook, March 13, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #4

Van Morrison – Tupelo Honey

I’ve never given Van Morrison much thought. Lots of familiar tracks that just sort of drift through the air and into my ears. Other than maybe “Moondance”, I’ve definitely never felt compelled to listen to one of his albums in its entirety. I don’t know if that’s going to change, but this was certainly a pleasant enough listening experience. I had to do a bit more work on this one as it, amazingly, isn’t on Spotify. Thankfully, someone put together a YouTube playlist, though the variations in production make it clear they aren’t all the original album versions, and the ads between tracks were a bit jarring. So, YMMV, but of the versions I could access, I have a new appreciation of “Wild Night”, and especially liked “Old Old Woodstock”, “You’re My Woman” and “Tupelo Honey” (except for the backup singers). It’s a very romantic and passionate album (seriously, listen to “You’re My Woman” and feel your temperature rise), and if this record was a popular backdrop to early ‘70s make out sessions, I would not be even mildly surprised. I won’t be running out to pay to hear this in it’s intended form, but it’s not an idea completely outside the realm of possibility. Which isn’t too bad for an artist I never gave much thought to.

Very little from this album is available on Spotify, but here are a few versions that offer a taste for the curious.

(Originally posted on Facebook, March 6, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #3

Rod Stewart – Every Picture Tells A Story

I’ve never really thought of Rod Stewart as a covers artist, at least not until his Great American Songbook phase, because his biggest hits have been (mostly) his own compositions. But looking through his catalog, he’s always put a lot of other people’s songs on his albums. I would take his version of “That’s All Right” over Elvis’ (which I’ve always found cheesy), he kills it on Dylan’s “Tomorrow is a Long Time”, he’s the rare artist who can cover a Temptations hit without embarrassing himself (god, “(I Know) I’m Losing You” is fire, especially the drum solo), and, of course, there’s “Reason to Believe”. But the best song on here might be the original, “Mandolin Wind”. Almost unbearably poignant, and my heart raced when he sped up at around the 4:45 mark. Songs like this are why I decided to do this exercise – because I’d rather live in a world where I know about “Mandolin Wind” than one where I don’t. I have no idea what made this the third best album of 1971 – I only know what I like about it. Which is sort of how we all react to music.

UPDATE: So I just replayed “Mandolin Wind” and “(I Know) I’m Losing You” while writing this. Yep, they’re bloody brilliant.

(Originally posted on Facebook, February 28, 2021)