Cheap Thrills by Big Brother & The Holding Company & Janis Joplin

Let’s start with the good. Janis Joplin blazed a trail as one of the very few women in the 60s fronting a band and she brings a very powerful voice to this album, full of raw emotion and cracking in places. As well as a couple of original tracks, her versions of Summertime by George Gershwin and Another Piece of My Heart are genuine classics.

The bad is the bait and switch with this album posing as a live recording. Only one of the tracks was actually live (at least on the original release) with the rest featuring recorded audience noises played in. To be fair, the recording does have a raw, live feel that captures the energy of a top notch rock band, but it feels a little bit of a cheat all the same.

The ugly is the cover art by Robert Crumb, which features crude racist and sexist stereotypes of the worst sort. Apparently Crumb claimed later that he was satirizing those attitudes and that his audience would have understood the context, but it really leaves a sour taste even after all this time.

The final tragedy is that just two years after this record, Joplin joined the pantheon of dead rock stars, dying from a heroin overdose at the age of just 27. What a waste.

American Beauty by Grateful Dead

I’d often wondered about the music of the Grateful Dead. What was it that inspired legions of Deadheads to follow a band of aging hippies on endless tours across America? They were not the sort of band who got played on the radio in the UK, so it was a long time before I actually listened to an album and then on the insistence of a friend, one of the many carefully curated bootleg concerts.

It wasn’t the cosmic psychedelic space jam that I was expecting. It was … ok. Mellow blues and cosy Americana with a hint of country. It struck me listening to this album this morning that the music is really quite incidental to the experience of tripping out in a field in the California sunshine with a genuine community of like minded friends, before packing up the microbus and driving a couple of hundred miles to the next gig.

This album won’t knock your socks off, but it’s not trying to. It’s the perfect expression of the hippie ethos of tuning in, turning on and dropping out, and I wish there was more of it in the world today.

Vincebus Eruptum by Blue Cheer

There’s a general rule of thumb with this list, that if there’s a sixties band that you haven’t heard of, then there’s generally a good reason for it. In this case, aside from an entertaining hard rock cover of Summertime Blues by Eddie Cochran, the rest of the album manages to be tedious and overblown which is quite a trick when it’s only half an hour long.

File under historical curiosity only.

Copper Blue by Sugar

I’d always assumed that Bob Mould was some sort of punk name and therefore slightly disappointed when Hüsker Dü imploded that he didn’t form a band with Fred Fungus and Terry Toadstool. Anyhoo, Mr Mould is on good form here with some excellent post-punk/indie guitar rock with a slightly more mellow and melodic edge.

Most of the songs are about dysfunctional relationships and I can’t help wondering if lines like “The act, we wear it thin again” are a reference to the acrimonious breakup with his former bandmate and drummer Grant Hart. Apparently the only time they re-united for a benefit gig the only songs they played were “Hardly Getting Over It” and “Never Talking to You Again”. Yikes.

Anyway, this is great breezy stuff to put on when you’ve just been dumped and need something to cheer yourself up. Even if you haven’t been dumped, you just want to take Bob out for a beer and sympathise. Favourite tracks are probably Hoover Dam and If I Can’t Change Your Mind, which even features some lovely harmonies.

Green by R.E.M.

This is an unlikely candidate for one of the biggest selling albums of the 80s. It’s an archetypal example of the Athens, Georgia sound, with jangly guitars, Michael Stipe’s distinctive, plaintive vocals and some nice touches on some tracks with mandolins, cello and pedal steel guitar giving a touch of country/Americana.

The thing that really sets this album is the utterly baffling nature of the lyrics, with gnomic allusions turned into sing along hooks. I had no idea what lines like “I’ve got my spine, I’ve got my orange crush” meant at the time and I’m still not much clearer even after reading the wikipedia page.

Does it matter if it doesn’t make sense? Maybe, maybe not, but perhaps that’s where its charm lies.

Illinois by Sufjan Stevens

I’m a sucker for a good concept album, and it doesn’t get a much higher concept than a series of albums each devoted to a detailed history of one of the American states. Sadly we only got Michigan and Illinois before the project was abandoned.

There was a lot that I enjoyed about this, particularly the ambitious scope of the music which reminded me in places of the minimalist operas of composers like Steve Reich and Phillip Glass, crossed with the breezy jazz of Vince Guaraldi and even a nod to the Cure’s “Close To Me” on the title track “Come on! Feel the Illinoise” (which was a lost opportunity to cover Slade).

What I didn’t like was a piece about the serial killer John Wayne Gacy dressing up as a clown to murder people. Seriously, this should have come with a content warning. This one track was enough to almost put me off listening to the rest of the album. Seriously, skip this one or don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The rest of the lyrics are a lot more interesting with what sound like autobiographical insights into Steven’s life and beliefs, and they are quite moving in an obtuse way. I think I’d like to read a commentary about what he’s alluding to on some of these.

This would have been five stars, but minus one for Killer Klowns and minus another one for giving up after two states. Lazy, lazy Sufjan Stevens.

Closer by Joy Division

This album was a difficult listen back in 1980 and the passage of time hasn’t made it much easier. Knowing how desperately ill lead singer Ian Curtis was during the recording and then hearing lines like “Gotta find some therapy … gotta find my destiny, before it gets too late” hits home in a way that very few songs do. Perhaps he could have been helped, but there are too many ‘what ifs’ to answer.

The sound of this album defined the 80s for me, being the antithesis of plastic pop for yuppies. Without this album we wouldn’t have had so much of the music that exploded from the Manchester scene throughout that decade and beyond. As with Bowie’s Blackstar, this deserves to be listened to properly and not shuffled or playlisted.

The Idiot by Iggy Pop

Iggy Pop is one of rock and roll’s greatest survivors. After the Stooges broke up in 1974, he had a moment of clarity and realised that the drug culture of LA and his heroin addiction in particular was going to kill him, so he moved to France with his pal David Bowie (who was at a similar low point in his life) and they recorded an album together.

The Idiot feels like a reset for both of them, as they kicked their respective drug habits, and experimented with new sounds, bouncing ideas off each other in the studio before handing the tapes over to producer Tony Visconti who made sense of them and pulled the album together. There’s a notable shift from the proto-punk of Raw Power, with synths, saxophones and moody lyrics, but contrary to some opinions this is very much an Iggy album and informed his subsequent work.

Idiot-tastic!

Sheer Heart Attack by Queen

I remember the first time that I saw Freddie Mercury on Top of the Pops, with long hair, a fur jacket and half a microphone singing Killer Queen. It was thrilling and transgressive in a way that I couldn’t articulate at that age, but it felt like the future. I didn’t listen to the rest of the album until I was much older, but it still brings back the same feelings.

This was the album where Queen perfected their sound, particularly Brian May’s unique guitar, but all of them were firing on all cylinders. There’s a lot going on here, with a mischievous sense of humour in the opening of Brighton Rock and the jaunty Leroy Brown, combined with some of the hardest rock that Queen ever produced.

It’s sometimes overlooked in the Queen discography, falling between Queen II and Night at The Opera, but I think it’s one of my favorites that never grows old. Listening to Now I'm Here on headphones this morning was still a spine tingling experience to hear Freddie’s voice coming from different directions of the soundscape, and as with all of the studio tricks on this album was one they managed to pull off in live gigs too.

Dynamite with a laser beam-tastic!

Heavy Weather by Weather Report

Classic jazz funk fusion and the opening track Birdland is a genuine banger. After that, it’s very much a case of diminishing returns and a lot will depend on your tolerance for generic mid 70s synth sounds and fretless bass noodling. There is one oddly out of place live track for vocals and drums that sounds like it’s about to get interesting and is cut off - I would have liked more of that.

Cloudy with a chance of showers-tastic!

2112 by Rush

Now, I’m partial to a bit of prog and I like sci-fi, so in theory I should fall into the same Venn diagram as Rush. However the reality doesn’t quite match up. Geddy Lee’s falsetto vocals leave me cold and drummer Neil Peart (technically brilliant as he was) obviously subscribes to the ‘more is more’ school of drumming. The rest is clever twiddly bits, sections of classical music thrown in to show how cultured they are and one too many improvised guitar solos.

The biggest problem though is the theme of the title track, inspired by the objectivist libertarian philosophy of Ayn Rand which is so appealing to teenage boys who think that billionaires shouldn’t have to pay taxes because they’re obviously so much cleverer than everybody else.

The actual story is some trite nonsense about an intergalactic war where the baddies who want to outlaw individualism and free will are represented by a red star (subtle, eh?). The hero of the piece discovers a mysterious ancient artefact in a cave which turns out to be an electric guitar and at that point I stopped caring and lost the will to live.

The second side of the album is a bit more fun, with a song about the relative merits of different varieties of hash from round the world. However, the final track returns to Ayn Randism with ‘Something for Nothing’ which might as well be called ‘Wake up Sheeple’.

Oh, and for anyone still reading it turns out that Ayn Rand did end up living on welfare towards the end of her life. Oh dear, how sad, never mind.

Here Are the Sonics by The Sonics

I think that if I had been around in Tacoma, Washington in 1965 then The Sonics may well have been one of my favourite bands. They’re scrappy, in your face, but most importantly of all it sounds like they’re just having a damn good time playing a bit of garage rock and roll.

The recording is pretty basic, played live in the studio on a primitive two track recorder with every VU meter bouncing into the red. It’s mostly covers of old favourites but there are some original numbers that stand comparison with the classics, especially The Witch, with stomping drums and screaming vocals from front man Gerry Roslie.

They may not have hit the big time, but by all accounts they had a solid local following in the Pacific north-west and a legendary reputation that persisted all the way up to Nirvana in the 90s and beyond.

Tago Mago by Can

I saw an article today called something like “50 albums You Must Listen To (according to Audiophiles)”. Firstly, only 50? Lightweights! Secondly, the article was profoundly depressing with the reviewer talking about bit rates and compression ratios, and not a jot about the music.

Well, this album today was recorded on two dodgy twin track tape machines in an echoey German castle in the middle of winter, with audio levels balanced by moving band members to the right distance from the microphones with strict instructions not to move around too much.

The music is classic Krautrock, with metronomic Motorik drumming, blistering guitars, reversed tape loops, sci-fi electronic effects made by fiddling with oscillators and bonkers screaming vocals from new addition to the band Damo Suzuki. You know that you’re in for a treat when there are just seven tracks on a full double album and they range from the hypnotic to a genuinely creepy take on an Aleister Crowley satanic ceremony that would make a good soundtrack for a Call of Cthulhu game.

Yes, it’s experimental. Yes, it’s mental. Yes, you should absolutely listen to this and freakout!

Kraut-tastik!

Dusty In Memphis by Dusty Springfield

It seems to be a thing with 60’s artists that their best work is often their least commercially successful. This 1969 album from Dusty Springfield shows her to be absolutely on top form, knocking it out of the park with her flawless vocals in a southern soul style. There’s an interesting selection of songs here with only a cover of “Windmills of Your Mind” feeling out of place.

The highlight is easily her best known track “Son of a Preacher Man” with the surprisingly saucy “Breakfast in Bed” a close second.

Simply gorgeous!

Younger Than Yesterday by The Byrds

By 1967 The Byrds’ star was waning, and there is more than a touch of bitterness in the opening track “So You Want To Be A Rock ’n’ Roll Star” which complains about the success of pre-fab groups like the Monkees. After the somewhat disappointing response to their previous album they doubled down on the experimental, psychedelic side with similar studio tricks to the Beatles’ Revolver, using reversed tapes and oscillators to good effect.

The results are somewhat uneven, with digressions into jazz, country and a guest appearance from Hugh Masekela playing trumpet. There is even in a bizarre bit of space rock where they imagine one of their songs being broadcast to a distant quasar and being overheard by some surprisingly chatty aliens. By far the best song is a cover of “My Back Pages” by Bob Dylan which also inspired the album title.

You Are the Quarry by Morrissey

Too racist, didn’t listen. Even the song titles have the same level of thuggish, knuckle dragging obscenity as the people who paint roundabouts and shout at hotels. Absolute bobbins.

The Seldom Seen Kid by Elbow

Another album that surprised me by feeling familiar even though I’m sure I haven’t heard it before. Other people have compared it to Coldplay, but I enjoyed it a lot more than that, both lyrically and musically. Another plus point was a track featuring Richard Hawley, another under-appreciated artist who I have only recently started listening to.

It was only when I got to almost the end of the album and the track ‘One day Like This’ that I finally remembered hearing it as part of the 2012 Olympics closing ceremony and what a wonderful moment of hope and optimism that was. I hope we can recapture that feeling again in my lifetime.

If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears by The Mamas & The Papas

Fun fact! The original version of this album cover was deemed to be unsuitable for public display because it shows a (gasp!) toilet in a bathroom. Later editions either covered up the offending loo or cropped it out. Sanitary-ware aside, this album has a mix of original songs and covers, all sung with some of the best harmonies of any band in the sixties or since.

The music is mostly laid-back folk-rock with a touch of blues, not quite easy listening but not far off. The highlights for me are the best known hits - Monday, Monday and California Dreamin’.

A perfect album for a lazy Sunday morning.

Psychocandy by The Jesus and Mary Chain

Ever since John Lennon accidentally leaned his guitar against an amp in 1964 and fell for the sound, feedback and distortion have been a vital part of rock music. That distinctive high-pitched squeal really makes the electric guitar stand out from everything else.

Musicians like Jimi Hendrix and Lou Reed took things even further – Lou Reed’s notorious Metal Machine album is almost entirely made of hypnotic feedback loops, almost (but not quite) to the point of unlistenability.

For me, it arrived at just the right moment in the 80s, sweeping away all of that overproduced, plastic dance music with a brilliant blend of classic 60s tunes hidden in a glorious wall of noise. A friend once said that playing it loud enough felt like standing on a cliff in a storm – buffeted by the wind but coming out feeling wonderfully alive.

I’m a bit more careful with my ears these days, but it still brings back great memories and sounds just as good 40 years on.

Tinnitus-tastic!

Timeless by Goldie

UK people of a certain vintage will associate the name “Goldie” as belonging to one of the iconic Blue Peter kids tv pets of the 1970s, which is why I was slightly surprised to find today that Mr Goldie was the same age as me so would have presumably grown up watching the show as well. Maybe he just likes Golden Retrievers?

Anyhoo, this album is a wildly ambitious debut that mostly lands. Mostly. Drum ‘n’ bass is something of an acquired musical taste, with a lot of similarities with the complex mathematical patterns of Steve Reich or the manic high energy drumming of hard bop jazz. Goldie (with production by Rob Playford) also layers in some lush electronica and vocals from Diane Charlemagne and Lorna Harris.

The overall effect ranges from hypnotic to being overwhelming in places, but always intriguing.