Classic Rock Musings, Rants & Raves

Chuck Berry closed the first night (Saturday, August 30) of the two-day Long Beach Blues Festival in Long Beach, California. British blues legend John Mayall, New Orleans’ the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, blues piano patriarch Pinetop Perkins, Northern Californian slide slinger Roy Rogers and Jamaican soul vocalist Roy Young were also on the bill. Sunday night’s (August 31) lineup featured the Taj Mahal Trio, Booker T. Jones, Charlie Musselwhite, Eddie Floyd, Joe Louis Walker and Ana Popovic.

Unlike completists who own nearly everything produced by an artist, the casual fan just wants to hear them in small doses. Below is a list of some of the better compilation sets — those that not only contain the “greatest hits” you know and love, but also various album cuts, which serve to provide further insight to those who aren’t very familiar with that artist.

1. The Beatles - 1967-1970 (Blue Album)

1967-1970, or the “Blue Album” as it is more well know, is a great snapshot of the fab four during the last few years of their career — the innovative, psychedelic days. Includes a booklet with liner notes, lyrics and photographs.

2. The Beatles - 1962-1966 (Red Album)

You just can’t have one without the other! 1962-1966, or the “Red Album,” captures the Liverpool lads during the height of their early, frenzied, Beatlemania days, and also contains a booklet with liner notes, lyrics and photographs. Interestingly, although more “hits” are found on the Red Album, Blue sold several million more copies and is widely considered a much better album.

3. Moody Blues - This Is The Moody Blues

Most Moody Blues fans agree that the first seven albums of the band’s career were by far the most creative. “This Is” is an outstanding compilation which covers those “classic 7.” Although most of the radio hits are present, there are also many incredible album cuts which present a true picture of what the Moody Blues were really about. Best experienced with headphones in a dark room.

4. Rolling Stones - Hot Rocks 1964-1971

The Stones were also at the top of their game in the mid- to late-60s, and Hot Rocks is a wonderful document of those years. The 2-CD set spans the long and unparalleled career of the Brit band, from the early, bluesy “Time Is On My Side” through to Sticky Fingers’ “Brown Sugar” and “Wild Horses.” Not only a great intro for new Stones fans, but a nostalgic journey back in time for the rest of us.

5. Eric Clapton - The Cream Of Clapton

The title says it all — this is truly the cream of Clapton! The 19-track disc covers Clapton’s defining years with Cream, Blind Faith and Derek And The Dominos, then picks up with the best of his solo career through 1981. As one reviewer states, “If you have room in your collection for just one Clapton album, this should be it.” The only downside is a lack of Yardbirds or Bluesbreakers material.

6. Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection

Released in 1993 for the band’s 25th anniversary, this is a great place for a novice to discover the magic that is Tull! Along with the standards (”Aqualung,” “Locomotive Breath,” “Teacher,” “Thick As A Brick,” and “Cross-Eyed Mary”), we’re treated to the lesser-known gems (”Bouree,” “The Whistler,” “Too Old To Rock & Roll” and “Kissing Willie”), and many other incredible album cuts.

7. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers - Anthology: Through The Years

Anthology: Through The Years chronologically covers Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers from their first album in 1976 through the present. The 2-CD, 34-track set includes all the classic Petty tunes, plus “Surrender,” an exclusive, never-before-released song Petty wrote in the 70s. You won’t find a more consistently pleasant album than this one — there’s not a bad song in the bunch!

8. George Harrison - Best Of Dark Horse 1976-89

Dark Horse, of course, refers to Harrison’s own label, formed about a half decade after the Beatles’ demise. This is an absolute must for any classic rock fan, even if only for “All Those Years Ago,” “Crackerbox Palace,” “When We Was Fab” and, from the Lethal Weapon II soundtrack, “Cheer Down.” The CD also contains a bonus track “Here Comes The Moon,” previously unavailable on the vinyl version.

9. The Guess Who - Greatest Hits

Why these guys still aren’t in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame remains a mystery. One listen to their greatest hits (although we all know that any band’s best are the songs that weren’t released as singles) will have you scratching your head as well. “These Eyes,” “Laughing,” “Undun,” “No Time,” “American Woman,” “No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature,” “Share The Land”… need we say more?

10. The Who: My Generation - The Very Best Of

Maybe it’s just impossible to fit the Who’s best into a 20-song compilation. Or maybe the record company is trying to milk the band’s almost 40-year career for all it’s worth. But as Who retrospectives go, this is one of the better ones. Inclusion of “The Seeker” and “5:15″ almost make up for glaring omissions (”Behind Blue Eyes,” “I’m Free,” “Bargain” and “The Kids Are Alright”). Almost.

So you wanna really annoy the people sitting near you? Here’s some handy tips on the best ways to ensure that you’ll get bounced out of a 50,000-seat arena.

1. Disregard the number on your ticket and sit wherever you want. Refuse to move until someone calls a bouncer, then sweetly say ‘Gee, all they had to do was ask!’
2. Don’t wear deodorant and don’t bathe for a week prior to the show unless attending a jam band concert, in which case no one will notice.
3. Wear a hat. A large hat. Refuse to remove it when asked by those behind you.
4. Sneak in a camera and continuously take flash pictures.
5. When sitting up front, tell people you got the tickets free, even if you paid $1,000 from a scalper.
6. Show photos of your kids to strangers and tell them they’re the love children of the lead singer. Casually mention that you haven’t seen him since ‘that restraining order misunderstanding.’
7. Stand on your chair and dance wildly for every song, even the slow ones.
8. Keep a full cup of beer with you at all times and spill it on those around you. Especially effective when combined with Number 7.
9. Sing along to every song, loudly. This is particularly fun if you don’t know all the words.
10. Drum on the back of the person sitting in front of you.
11. Scream ‘FREEBIRD’ at the top of your lungs at the end of each song.
12. Emit ear-piercing whistles at random. If you can’t whistle, yell.
13. Leave to use the bathroom every 15 minutes, This is also a good time to refill your beer. See Number 8.
14. Barf on someone’s shoes.
15. On the way out, complain to everyone within earshot about the rude and obnoxious people who attend concerts.

Tip:
Don’t actually try all of these things unless you want the crap beaten out of you.

Toys In The Attic is, by all accounts, THE album that launched Aerosmith into the stratosphere. Released in 1975, Toys In The Attic was a natural progression as third albums go. The Boston quintet’s self-titled debut showed a lot of promise while their second release, Get Your Wings, solidified the band as a rough and tumble outfit with a swagger and attitude that rivaled the Rolling Stones. Steven Tyler’s gift as a songwriter and enigmatic front man was undeniable as the twin guitar attack of Joe Perry and Brad Whitford, supported by the sturdy rhythm section of bassist Tom Hamilton and drummer Joey Kramer, was a force to reckoned with. Artistically and commercially, the elements fell neatly into place on Toys In The Attic.

Produced by Jack Douglas, Toys In The Attic defined Aerosmith’s sound as somewhere between sleek heavy metal and hard rockin’ blues, driven by sheer will and endurance. The buck didn’t stop there. As demonstrated on “Dream On” and “Seasons Of Wither,” Aerosmith also had a knack for building power ballads, and the first single off of Toys, “Sweet Emotion,” remains a perfect example of how dexterous the band could be with a melody. For the most part, however, Aerosmith is at full throttle on the album. The title track takes off without a hitch, while “No More No More” and “Round and Round” salivate on loose yet ridged riffs and Tyler’s hot n’ spicy lyrical wordplay. “Uncle Salty” predates Aerosmith’s sentiments about child abuse almost 15 years before they hit upon the subject again in “Janie’s Got A Gun.” “Big Ten Inch Record,” a 50s novelty song, is thrown in just to show that the band has a twisted sense of humor.

If Toys In The Attic is the album that put Aerosmith over the top, “Walk This Way” is surely the song that not only sustained, but rebounded their popularity. It is one of the few songs in history that has charted twice in two separate decades. When rap pioneers Run D.M.C. decided to cover the song and invited Tyler and Perry to appear in the video, Aerosmith was resurrected as a viable and marketable act. And it’s been nonstop ever since. Despite a slight dip in their full-bodied assault, the band continues to be showered with accolades and awards.

If there’s one thing you can say about Alice Cooper, it’s that he’s diabolically consistent. Along Came A Spider, his 25th album, has all the makings of a perfect Alice Cooper record — snappy hooks, guttural lyrics, heavy-duty guitars and a death-defying bottom end — wrapped around a sinister tale of murder and mayhem. Classic Cooper indeed. When many of his peers are losing their marbles, playing to senior citizens in Branson, or milking their back catalog for Buffalo nickels, Alice Cooper has pumped his well-worn, bigger-than-life image up with fresh blood and wild abandon. In the depths of imagination and recesses of his mind, he’s still 18.

Along Came A Spider is the story about a serial killer named Spider who wraps his prey in silk. Guilt and confusion sets in when Spider falls in love and fails to follow through on killing his latest victim. If Cooper hasn’t sold this idea to a movie studio, he’d better hurry before someone steals it and plasters it all over YouTube. A dramatic prologue draws you into the fable before you’re sucked into the vicious marauding of “I Know Where You Live.” With lyrics like, “I know where you live/I know where you hide/I know what keeps you alive,” the song cops that old-school feel of the original Alice Cooper Band — a pulsating beat and a rip-roaring riff that would have felt right at home on 1971’s Love It To Death.

“Vengeance Is Mine” (featuring Slash on guitar), “Wake The Dead” and “Catch Me If You Can” dazzle with a more modern approach, although they borrow heavily from an 80s/90s alt metal arsenal of trickery. “(In Touch With) Your Feminine Side” might be the best load of bullocks from Cooper since “Poison,” whereas the infectious melodies and arrangements of “Killed By Love” and “Salvation” eerily ride the range alongside blustery ballads like “Only Women Bleed,” “I Never Cry,” and “You and Me.” Who wouldn’t want to see “Salvation” worked into the set list.

But it’s that sound and attitude ingrained in the grooves from the early 70s that dominates the record. “I’m Hungry” is a straightforward, jaw-dropping rocker offering up, “chloroform and handcuffs just for you.” The double guitar attack of Keri Kelli and Jason Hook rivals that of Glen Buxton and Michael Bruce, the primal two-headed guitar machine behind “Under My Wheels” and “School’s Out.” Filled out by bassist Chuck Garrric, drummer Eric Singer of KISS, and singer Bernard Fowler, background vocalist with the Rolling Stones for 20 years, Along Came A Spider is throbbing with equal measures of muscle and tenderness, tempered with doses of suspense and folly to keep you mentally transmogrified until your next check-up. This one definitely has legs…

Check out these video trailers for Along Came A Spider.

‘Along Came A Spider’ Trailer #1

‘Along Came A Spider’ Trailer #2

‘Along Came A Spider’ Trailer #3

‘Along Came A Spider’ Trailer #4

If you read my review of Jethro Tull’s Jack In The Green DVD in May, you know the band is celebrating its 40th anniversary. Last night, I joined the party when Tull took over the spectacular Greek Theatre in Los Angeles and polished off some of their tastiest tunes from the past four decades.

As we waited for openers the Young Dubliners to kick the night into gear with their special brand of Celtic rock, I thought about my first Jethro Tull show, going back to 1978 at the L.A. Forum. It was behind Bursting Out, a makeshift live album, and they pretty much played the record note-for-note. The next year, I saw them at Long Beach Arena, this time in support of the highly underrated Stormwatch album. The presentation at Long Beach was unusual, with bowspirit netting dangling on the side and back portions of the stage. I think U.K. opened the show.

I didn’t see Jethro Tull at all during the 80s, but I made up for it with a couple concerts in the 90s. The first was at the Golden Hall in downtown San Diego in 1992, and the second one was at San Diego State’s Open Air Theatre in 1996. Emerson, Lake, and Palmer opened that one. They were winding down their reunion, while Tull continued to pull them in. They still haven’t stopped.

I’ve see them a bunch times over the past six years, and while they consistently play to the highest level possible, last night they owned the Greek. Just about every musician who’s ever passed through the ranks was featured on the backdrop video screen. It was like a musical history lesson as the images came up – Clive Bunker, Glen Cornick, Barriemore Barlow, Jeffrey Hammond, David Palmer, John Glascock, Dave Pegg. It proves that Club Jethro Tull is not strictly about Ian Anderson. Many from the group’s vast personnel have contributed, along with their exceptional musicianship, by way of personality and presence. Case in point: the woman sitting next to me was overjoyed by the sight of former keyboardist John Evan’s impish grin and over-sized white suit.

Aside from the visual enhancements, the stage at the Greek was pretty basic. Jethro Tull, over the past few years, has developed into a lean and mean touring machine without a lot of excessive baggage. So they hit the deck running, blowing the dust of early nuggets like “Living In The Past,” “Serenade To A Cuckoo,” “Nursie,” “A Song For Jeffrey” and “A New Day Yesterday.” Hearing “Too Old To Rock ‘N’ Roll” and “Heavy Horses” also produced favorable reactions before the group rounded the final lap with the usual standbys — “Thick As A Brick,” “Aqualung” and “Locomotive Breath.” But even the old reliables were executed with new, unfounded exuberance. Vocally, Anderson wasn’t struggling as much as he has in the recent past. Guitarist Martin Barre, drummer Doane Perry and newest recruits, bassist David Goodier and keyboardist John O’Hara, served each tune well, never failing to live up to the grand arrangements and nuances that give Jethro Tull’s music that timeless sheen.

I can hardly wait for their next milestone.

If you haven’t heard (and it’s very likely you haven’t), King Crimson have slipped under the radar and reassembled for a few select shows. The only drawback is that the venues they’ve played so far have not been anywhere near Los Angeles, which is where I am. I can say with certainty that if they drift into my neighborhood, I will be there to root them on.

King Crimson is unlike any other band I know of. They’ve never really been part of the mainstream, never hit-bound, never conventional in any sense. The only constant has been Robert Fripp and his insurmountable drive for perfection. And that’s the way it’s always been. Any musician who passes through the ranks of King Crimson (and there have been many) has to understand this, or they will be shown the door.

Examples of this are plentiful. When things started to get ugly for bands like King Crimson in the late 70s, Fripp folded up shop without even a simple good-bye. Then, in 1981, Fripp and drummer Bill Bruford revived Crimson with two Americans. That set a whole new precedent because during their formative years, King Crimson was the quintessential English band.

They weren’t plying the blues like so many of their counterparts; they were twisting the form into a strange and wonderful amalgamation. When vocalist/guitarist Adrian Belew and bassist Tony Levin came aboard, Crimson’s sound evolved into something more modern, a little less morose, but still adventurous and quirky. I was initially put off because they reminded me more of the Talking Heads than the King Crimson of old. A lot of old fans actually had a problerm with this. But then I started listening closer, discovering the complexities lurking beneath the tight interplay.

After three albums, Fripp put on the brakes again, and King Crimson were swept into hibernation for another decade. When they returned, Fripp, Bruford, Belew and Levin were joined by two younger Americans, Warr guitarist Trey Gunn and drummer Pat Mastelotto. The double trio, as it was called, was short-lived, but stupendous in every way. I caught one of their shows in San Diego in 1995, and it remains one of my all-time favorite concerts.

The group sort of “fractured” after that, releasing a flurry of long and lumbering improvisational records with different members joining Fripp on various grooves. Then in 2000, King Crimson became a quartet, without Bruford and Levin. This lineup released two albums, the second being T[B]he Power To Believe[/B], which holds a special place in my heart. That’s because I was invited to hear it at a sushi bar on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood.

Across the room from me were three members of King Crimson. We all sat, myself and about 30 other invited guests, transfixed by the force of this new music, immersed in the sonic sauce, as we guzzled down our Sapporos and dined on rainbow rolls and other delights. During a brief Q&A — a very rare treat — I asked Fripp what it was like to open for the Rolling Stones in 1969. “It was a remarkable event,” he replied. “But the Stones should have done some warm-up gigs before. For Crimson, one snapshot of the event was when the very large cardboard figure of Brian Jones fell and landed on Greg Lake’s head.” That brought the house down and lightened the mood. Later, I asked Trey Gunn if Fripp would sign my program from the 1995 tour, but he told me to put it away. “He’ll bolt if he sees that,” he warned me.

But the guy I really got to know that night was Adrian Belew. I’d interviewed him earlier that day, and he graciously told me about how his experiences with Frank Zappa, Talking Heads and David Bowie more or less lead him to the court of crimson king. But after a couple more Sapporos, Belew was suddenly sitting shotgun in my red Mustang and we headed up into the hills to a party. Tom Arnold was just exiting, and Adrian, myself and my buddy (who knew the host) wrangled ourselves inside. The next thing I knew, Adrian Belew and I were drinking martinis and trading stories with Dave Coulier, Bob Saget and then-Lakers power forward Robert Horry. It was a dizzying site, seeing the lead singer of King Crimson mingling with two cast members from Full House. Belew told me he had never been to a party like this before.

We dropped him off at his hotel in the wee hours of the next morning, and I haven’t had a chance to speak with him since. I did, however, catch two shows on The Power To Believe tour and no one looked any worse for wear. The performances were as dynamic and vibrant as ever. Trey Gunn left shortly after. “We were pretty much completing a phase in the life of the band,” he told me during an interview. And King Crimson went back to sleep.

But I knew, as everyone knew, they’d be back. News leaked out that Tony Levin had rejoined, but nothing immediate happened. A year or two later, I bumped into Levin at a tradeshow and asked him what was going on with King Crimson. “We’re rehearsing,” he said. I pressed him for more. What about an album? How about a tour? Levin smiled. “When Robert says we’re ready…”

So, we were back to the stop-and-start antics of Robert Fripp. So be it. It’s only been five years, and they’re playing a handful of dates. Along with Fripp, Belew, Levin and Mastelotto, they’ve added a second drummer, Gavin Harrison. I’ve heard bits and pieces, and it’s fresh, challenging, beautiful stuff as always. But for how long is anyone’s guess. Just as Trey Gunn explained to me, “As with all things Crimson, it’s kind of wait and see what really happens.” Oh boy, here we go again…

Anyway, have a peak at King Crimson from August 7 in Chicago.

Every year around this time, I think about the life and death of Jerry Garcia. Maybe it’s because he was born on August 1, 1942, and he died on August 9, 1995. To this day, I mourn his passing with great reverence — recalling all those Grateful Dead and Jerry Garcia Band shows I attended, and marveling at the man’s determination to play his music his way without intervention from the suits in the peanut gallery. It was a long, strange and successful trip with a high price. Garcia paid with his life; many of his fans paid with their hearts and lost their way in the process.

That day, in 1995, when news of Garcia’s passing spread, I was living near Carlsbad and listening to the radio for updates (why people, myself included, listen to updates when someone famous dies is beyond reason). Come late afternoon, it was announced that fans could go to Balboa Park, down near the San Diego Zoo, and pay their respects. It sounded more like a party, so naturally I felt compelled to investigate. As could be expected, Grateful Dead music floated through the air, mingling with the scent of pot and patchouli. Seasoned devotees plotted their next move. Who would buy their veggie burritos and grilled cheese sandwiches? The cancelled Fall tour was a major blow. Everyone was gassed up with no where to go. There was Bob Weir, on tour at the time (I caught an emotional Ratdog performance at the Warfield, two weeks after Garcia’s demise). But it wasn’t going to be the same without Jerry. It was never going to be the same without Jerry.

Thirteen years later, the thing I miss most is watching Garcia on stage, leading the band through a marathon of hits, misses, oldies, newbies and whatever else stuck. The shows are forever embedded in my brain as the most pure and wistful rock and rock moments of my life. Every other artist I have followed hasn’t aged as well as Jerry and the Dead (well, maybe Neil Young). The older and crustier they got, the more refined and fascinating they became. If only Jerry Garcia could come back and reclaim the mantle. We sure could use his magic right about now.

I recently ran across an interesting article on msnbc.com called, “Albums make comeback as concert gimmick.” I have to commend the writer (who did not get a by-line) for coming up with a great topic. I also have denounce the writer for not digging deep enough and researching the topic a little more thoroughly. If he or she would have done their homework, the writer would have discovered that long before Public Enemy, Sebadoh, Jay-Z, Sonic Youth and Liz Phair stumbled onto the idea, classic rock bands like the Who, Pink Floyd, Deep Purple, Jethro Tull and even Phish were routinely playing classic albums live several years before.

This trend can be traced back to almost 50 years. John Coltrane performed his classic A Love Supreme on July 26, 1965 at the Festival Mondial du Jazz Antibes. Certainly, as albums replaced singles as artist calling cards, playing them live became a natural extension. A rock opera like the Who’s Tommy lends itself to the very idea. Any artist who’s gone the conceptual route is practically obligated to roll the whole thing out on stage. For the Who, Tommy took on a life of its own, and after two years of performing all, if not a good chunk, of it, they continued to plow the conceptual countryside. Lifehouse, which morphed into Who’s Next, didn’t quite make it, although audiences were introduced to a sizable portion during a special live performance at the Young Vic Theatre in London on April 26, 1971. Then in 1973-74, the Who attempted with mixed results to bring Quadrophenia to life on stage. That didn’t quite pan out, especially when Keith Moon kept dozing off behind his drum kit. They would later revisit Tommy and Quadrophenia when advanced technology and the addition of other players were able to enhance both pieces with far more production finesse and polish.

Meanwhile, Pink Floyd had already tested the waters with Atom Heart Mother, playing it live between 1970 and 1972, and even employing a brass section and choir for effect. Floyd then bravely trotted out the whole of The Dark Side Of The Moon to live audiences, months before its release. While several bootleg recordings have gone the rounds, that didn’t seem to have much of an impact on the actual album’s overall sales (reportedly 40 million and counting worldwide). They did the same thing with Animals when they played rough cuts with working titles like “You Gotta Be Crazy” (later re-titled “Dogs”) and “Raving And Drooling” (later re-titled “Sheep”) a full two years before the album was released. This couldn’t have gone over so well with the record company.

Lots of progressive rock bands, from Genesis to Jethro Tull, would go on to play their heady, album-length conceptual pieces for audiences all over the world. But no one did it with more panache than Vermont’s own Phish, who jumped into the fray by playing classic albums by others (known as “musical costumes”) during their infamous Halloween. In 1994, they played The Beatles’ White Album, including every song, except “Good Night,” which was played over the P.A. at the end of the set. The next year, it was the Who’s Quadrophenia, followed by the Talking Heads’ Remain In Light in 1996 and Velvet Underground’s Loaded in 1998. Two days later, before fans in West Valley, Utah, Phish did the unthinkable and played a surprise (and their final) musical costume of Floyd’s The Dark Side Of The Moon.

American progressive metal band Dream Theater have ambled into similar territory by exploring Deep Purple’s Made In Japan, Metallica’s Master Of Puppets and Iron Maiden’s Number Of The Beast, and perhaps by obligation, The Dark Side Of The Moon. I have a live video of Radiohead playing its seminal OK Computer. And who could forget when the Pretty Things gathered together at Abbey Road Studio to revive their 1968 rock opera, S. F. Sorrow, live for the very first (and probably last) time on September 6, 1998.

Playing albums is fairly commonplace for a number of acts. I saw Deep Purple do it with Machine Head in 2003 (apparently they did it in 1972 as well). I also saw Jethro Tull roll out the Aqualung album in its entirety a couple of years ago. And I was privy to seeing Neil Young play an unreleased album in its entirety for an unsuspecting audience. Fans were a bit confused by the whole concept of Greendale at first, but subsequent tours (which I also saw) evnetually aligned the record’s place in Shakey’s wobbly and never-the-same-twice history.

The article on msnbc.com points out that Lou Reed recently played Berlin live and Pink Floyd bassist Roger Waters played, you guessed it, The Dark Side Of the Moon at this year’s Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival. It goes onto mention Lucinda Williams, who performed five of her albums over five nights during gigs in New York and Los Angeles. Apparently, Williams would love to see Bob Dylan play Highway 61 Revisited or Blonde On Blonde. Unfortunately, for both the writer and Williams, Bob Dylan rarely plays anything on command. Further research would have revealed that little tidbit. Oh well…maybe next time.