Music Reviews

This page is full of recent reviews I have written for Etc Sioux Falls.
Paul Westerberg
Folker
Five years ago, it appeared that Paul Westerberg’s career was finished. His first two solo albums had bombed, and Capitol Records forced him to transform 1999’s Suicaine Gratification from a folk-ish, home-recorded album into a big budget studio nightmare. When label head Gary Gersh (famed for signing Nirvana for Geffen Records) was shown the door, Westerberg was left without a label.
It’s not hard to see why the three solo albums he released in the 90’s did so poorly. Like fellow Minnesotan Bob Dylan, Westerberg always preferred minimal studio time. If a song couldn’t be thrashed out in a take or two it wasn’t worth the effort to carry on.
On those initial solo albums, Westerberg resigned himself to becoming a peg in the record industry machine. He allowed his labels to assign him to big shot producers who micro-managed every note. The instrumentation was perfect to a fault; his vocals were pieced together and sweetened from multiple takes.
Not that these albums weren’t fine releases. They still stood a mile above most of what the industry was pumping out in that post-Nirvana alternative rock boom. But it wasn’t what one expected from the former leader of the greatest band who didn’t give a damn. Fans wanted another “Bastards of Young”; not mundane would-be hits such as “Love Untold”.
After being dropped by Capitol, Westerberg disappeared for three years. He got married and had a son. Rumors spread that he was suffering from depression and rarely leaved his West Minneapolis home. Few expected him to ever record again.
In 2002, Westerberg surprised the music world by signing to Vagrant Records, the acclaimed indie rock label known mainly for Dashboard Confessional and the Get Up Kids. The result was two albums packaged together – the garage-band fantasy disc Mono (under his Grandpaboy pseudonym), and Stereo, a bare bones singer/songwriter collection. Both albums exceeded the expectations of even the most pessimistic fan; they were clearly miles above not only his prior solo albums but also a few of the Replacements releases.
The following year saw the release of two more albums – sold separately this time, but released on the same day. Grandpaboy’s blues tribute Dead Man Shake was the more expendable of the pair, but Come Feel Me Tremble’s (unacknowledged) tribute to the Rolling Stones was proof that Stereo/Mono wasn’t a fluke. From stunning song to stunning song, Westerberg blasted out the best Keith Richards licks that Keith himself hasn’t conjured up in over twenty years.
The accompanying documentary inadvertently showcased how Westerberg had become so reenergized. Tired of recording studios and session musicians, Westerberg set up a makeshift studio in his basement. After putting his son to bed, he’d retire to this cluttered room, becoming a one man band that placed more emphasis on feel than technical perfection. “I just play how I feel each time around”, he recently told Billboard. “I like the first take of a vocal because it usually has the passion you don’t get on the third or fourth take.”
Less than a year after Dead Man Shake and Come Feel Me Tremble, Westerberg has upped the ante with Folker, easily his best solo album and possibly the album that proudly stands up right next to the classic days of the Replacements. Once again recorded by himself in his basement, Folker does take a bit of acclimation. Extraneous sounds are left unfiltered; his voice is at times as ragged and rundown as ever (and truthfully, his drumming skills haven’t improved). It’s the songs that matter, and this collection of tunes are effortlessly catchy.
Folker leads off with a bit of a joke. “Jingle” is a swat at every record label employee who has every asked “where’s the hit?” The barely one minute tune is little more than “Buy it now, buy it now, buy it now/This is my single, this is my jingle” repeated over and over, but one can’t listen to it without cracking a smile. Westerberg claims he unsuccessfully offered the tune to Best Buy and Target for an ad campaign, but that seems unlikely for a man who has accepted his fate as a cult hero.
If there is a hit single present on Folker, it would have to be “As Far As I Know”, a stunning bit of mid-period Beatles-esque pure pop. “I’m in love with a girl that doesn’t exist/Keep looking for them everywhere I go/I'm in love with some thing that doesn't get kissed/It doesn't exist/As far as I know”. If CMFT featured guitar riffs that Keith Richards can’t be bothered to create these days, then “As Far As I Know” is the great Paul McCartney power pop tune that he hasn’t been able to craft since “Day Tripper”.
Yet “As Far As I Know” is probably not the best song on the album. Depending on the day and/or your mood, almost any of Folker’s material could make your mix disc. The title track, which concludes the album, is both a homage to the Faces and a put-down on Westerberg pretenders (Ryan Adams, Jeff Tweedy, etc.) “You don’t sing for children or their parents in the nighttime in a bar/You sing for yourself/You stand up for nothing as far as I can tell/You’re a folk star/With your plastic red guitar”.
Other tracks that beg for repeated plays include the Stones-y “Gun Shy”, the ballads “How Can You Like Him?” and “Breathe Some New Life”, and the Byrds-ish folk-rocker “Lookin’ Up In Heaven”, a thumbs down to an offer to stay in paradise (“They asked me to stick around but I told them there’s some another place I gotta check out tonight”).
The most poignant moment of the album would have to be “My Dad”, a tribute to his father who passed away earlier this year. Noting that their relationship has been strained for most of his life, Westerberg now watches him sitting in his chair watching his beloved Twins with a picture of his “one and only grandson” on his dresser and concludes he’d “give him everything I own”. Westerberg has stated in interviews that he never got a chance to play the track to the man who “never seen me play/But he gets his kicks from the newspaper/When he sees the family name”. For most artists, this kind of tribute would have been unbearably maudlin; Westerberg’s honesty and sense of humor keep the tune from crossing into that uncomfortable zone.
Sure, there are some less than thrilling moments. As stated before, he could use a real drummer, and a couple of songs could use a bit of self-editing and/or more fleshed out arrangements. But would this album (and the others released in the past two year) be any better if it had been recorded in a real studio with real studio musicians? Probably not. This is the real Paul Westerberg, warts and all. Polishing up or hiding the rough edges would have probably resulted in another lukewarm, sterile album. Folker is the real deal, and as he sang in “Jingle”, “Everybody really ought to have one/Everybody really ought to buy one”.
R.E.M.
Around the Sun
It has become cliché number one of the rock critic’s handbook that R.E.M. lost more than a drummer when Bill Berry quit the band after the Monster tour. Berry had quietly contributed many key songs to their most successful albums, and his no-frills demeanor in the studio probably limited some of Michael Stipe’s more pretentious ideas.
R.E.M.’s first two albums after Berry’s departure, Up and Reveal, appear to support this claim. Up relied more on studio tricks than actual songs, and Reveal suffered from an over-reliance on keyboards and other atmospheric effects. For the first time, a good chunk of R.E.M. albums featured filler.
Around the Sun punctures the belief that R.E.M. is no longer a vital, relevant band. Sure, they’re not exactly reinventing the wheel, and despite news reports from the recording studio, this is not a return to the classic days of Reckoning and Life’s Rich Pageant. If there is a comparison to be made, Around the Sun is a mixture of Automatic For the People and Out of Time - heartfelt, acoustic-based tunes that require multiple listens.
The album is also not the political manifesto we were led to believe. Sure, “Final Straw” may be the most overtly political tune the band has ever released, but the majority of the album finds Michael Stipe providing the most direct, heartfelt lyrics of his career.
Sure, there’s some duds. “Electron Blue” continues the electronica trend that ruined most of Reveal, and “The Outsiders” proves once again that a white-bred band such as R.E.M. should never experiment with hip-hop interludes. But the rest of the album, most notably “Leaving New York”, “I Wanted to Be Wrong”, and the epic, concluding title track, rank with the highlights of almost any of their so-called classic albums.
Brian Wilson
Smile
If one is to believe the hype, the original Smile is the greatest album nobody has ever heard, and quite possibly the greatest album ever.
The story behind the original Smile is too long and complex to print here, but the basic premise is that after a run of silly surf hits, Beach Boys leader Brian Wilson set out to become a true legend. Instead he became a legendary 60’s tragedy. Instigating a game of one-upmanship with the Beatles, he stayed behind to create Pet Sounds, an orchestral pop album that spurred the Beatles on to record Revolver, while the rest of the Beach Boys went on tour..
Smile was supposed to return the trophy to Wilson. Once again sending Mike Love and the rest of the Beach Boys on the road, he booked studio time in a number of recording studios and attempted to create an album-length ode to Americana culture. After hours and hours of recording, Wilson suffered a nervous breakdown and the album was shelved…although their greatest single, “Good Vibrations”, and a handful of other tracks were released on subsequent albums.
Meanwhile, the Beatles transformed the rock ‘n’ roll landscape with Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and the Beach Boys quickly were relegated to the oldies circuit. Every year that passed, the legend of Smile became larger and larger, despite the fact that nobody had actually heard it.
A few years ago, Wilson made a bit of a comeback with the help of Los Angeles-based The Wondermints. They worked up a song-by-song recreation of Pet Sounds, and took it on the road with Wilson to a surprising success. Needing to somehow top that tour when they went back on the road in Europe earlier this year, the band suggested Smile. Despite the fact that he would routinely refuse to even speak about the aborted album, Wilson reluctantly agreed.
The European tour was even bigger than the Pet Sounds tour, and Wondermints leader Darian Sahanaja then set to work on convincing Wilson that the album should be resurrected. He had already transferred all of the master tapes to his laptop, and the original idea was to piece these recordings together.
For some reason, these tapes were set aside and a brand new Smile was recorded (one would have to believe that Capitol Records forbid Wilson from using the original tapes). Lyricist Van Dyke Parks, who had co-written the original album with Wilson, was flown in to finish a few tracks that weren’t completely realized in 1966.
After all these years, how does Smile stand up? Well, it certainly deserves plenty of acclaim. It’s certainly an ambitious record that consists of three “suites”, and for it’s original time, is quite an achievement. And one has to give plenty of credit to the Wondermints for recreating every quirk and flourish of the heavily bootlegged original tapes.
But Smile is no Sgt. Pepper…it’s not even of the same level of Pet Sounds. It’s doubtful that it would have been a commercial or artistic success compared to the work of the Beatles, Stones, Dylan, and the dozens of other up and coming bands of that magical time. Like Pet Sounds, it would have also been dismissed by the band’s mainstream following as “weird“. It would have been an interesting experiment, loved by that minority of hardcore fanatics who always pick the strange failures as their favorites (similar to how some Kiss fans incomprehensibly choose The Elder).
Plus, let’s face facts that Brian Wilson as an artist is a shell of his former self. While his (probably heavily processed) vocals on Smile are a vast improvement on earlier solo albums (including one released just a few months ago), it’s still a heavily damaged instrument. Yet one has to give props to everybody involved with the album for merely attempting to bring this mythical album to light. It could have, and probably should have, been a huge disaster. Instead, it’s one of the more curious experiments in recent years.
Faces
Five Guys Walk Into a Bar...
While it may be hard for anybody under 40 to believe, there was once a time when Rod Stewart was a real rocker. Decades before disco, schmaltz-y ballads, and a jet-set lifestyle turned the raspy-voiced aristocrat, Stewart was the lead singer of the Faces, one of those bands whose legend was considered greater than their output.
It didn't help that the band only released four albums in their six year career, nor did it help that Stewart's burgeoning solo career coincided with his "real" band. Yet it didn't seem to matter to the band. They simply toured and toured and toured...and occasionally recorded an album that never seemed to live up to it's promise.
The band began with the demise of two other now-legendary groups. Stewart and guitarist Ron Wood had just spent two years touring and recording with Jeff Beck, while Ian MacLagan, Ronnie Lane, and Kenney Jones were the backbone of the Small Faces. Beck had just broke up his infamous trio, which was sort of the prototype for Jimmy Page to put together Led Zeppelin. Meanwhile, the leader of the Small Faces, Steve Marriott, had just split to form Humble Pie with Peter Frampton.
Unsure of their future, Lane had contacted Wood, and after a few informal jam sessions Wood invited Stewart for a tryout. Besides a shared love a music there was an immediate love of alcohol, and the Faces quickly became as renowned for their booze intake as their musical legacy.
Yet it's the music that matters, and the Faces were damned good musicians. While just a foil for Keith Richards during his close to 30 years in the Stones, Ron Wood is actually one of the great rock guitarists, able to jump from raunchy rhythm to lead without missing a step, and his blues-drenched slide guitar work stood up well with any "real" bluesmen. Kenney Jones may have proven a decade later during his time in the Who that he was no Keith Moon, but he was definitely every bit as inventive during this period of his career.
Yet the Faces' secret weapon was bassist Ronnie Lane. The most prolific writer in the band, he also had the sweetest voice and influences that expanded the band's sound. He also was the first to leave the band, and they were never the same after his departure. Two years later it was discovered that he had multiple sclerosis, which gradually weakened him until his death in 1977.
As a sort of tribute to Lane, keyboardist Ian MacLagan began work on this box set close to five years ago. With Wood raking in millions with the Stones, and Stewart touring the world in his new role as the Tony Bennett of the new millennium, it was left to MacLagan to hunt down new masters, outtakes, and heavily-traded bootlegs. The result is a package that not only doubles the amount of officially-released material but lets the world in on a big secret - the Faces were one of the greatest rock bands of all time.
Yes, it's true. They were every bit as good as any of the acts the shot to superstardom during their brief career. They could rock out as hard as a metal band on one song and then transform themselves into acoustic folkies on the next. They easily eclipsed the original versions of songs written by Paul McCartney ("Maybe I'm Amazed"), John Lennon ("Jealous Guy"), Bad Company ("The Stealer"), and even solo Rod Stewart ("Maggie May", "Gasoline Alley"). They may have employed a bartender to mix them drinks onstage, but their playing was never sloppy. Loose as hell, maybe, but still tight enough to maintain focus.
All of the band's quirks, influences, and genres are represented on this box of official recordings, outtakes, live recordings, BBC sessions, b-sides, and even a couple of rough hotel room recordings. Instead of the usual chronological order, MacLagan says in the accompanying booklet that "I sat down one afternoon, poured myself a pint of black madness, and put on 'Flying'. It was the first song Ronnie, Woody, and Rod wrote together. It was the first track we cut, and it became our first single....but after that I was desperate to hear 'On the Beach', and then 'Too Bad'. I was on a roll, pouring drinks and wiping the tears from my eyes all at once. It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to. Of course, you're welcome to play them in any order you like and bawl your eyes out too, but this running order gives me the chills".
Along with the usual discographies, biographies, and other lengthy stories, the booklet includes testimonials from current artists such as Jeff Tweedy, Slash, and Glen Matlock. Paul Westerberg probably says it best during a rambling story about witnessing their final concert in 1975. "Try as I might to have made the 'Mats in their image, we were just too damn angry. Faces - that's my band. They had fun. Humor. They make the Beatles sound like the Fleetwoods. They make Led Zeppelin sound like a riff machine. Pink Floyd? Please. And the Stones? Well, smack never had this much fun. No bogus mojo hokum. London's loud, lean, laughin' louts."
Wilco
A Ghost is Born
After the hoopla surrounding Wilco’s last album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, one would expect Jeff Tweedy to play it safe. Records so beloved by both critics and fans rarely exist these days, and after having to deal with revolving band members and record companies (along with a film crew documenting the proceedings) a person couldn’t (or at least shouldn’t) expect any artist to jump back into the fire.
Typically, an album such as this is followed by some sort of stop-gap measure; either a greatest hits collection or some sort of live release. The Beatles’ first album after Sgt. Pepper, Magical Mystery Tour, was more of a singles collection than a true album. The Who followed Tommy with Live at Leeds; more recently, Radiohead released a live EP after the cacophonous Kid A and Amnesiac albums. Or they do nothing but disappear for a few years.
Yet Wilco has made a career of switching gears. The country-rock of A.M. was followed up by the multi-genre Being There. Summerteeth revealed the band’s love of the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds and 80’s new wave. Elements of each of these albums can be found in Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but covered in layers and layers of feedback, tape loops, and other sonic manipulation.
In many ways, A Ghost is Born is an extension of it’s predecessor. The sense of experimentation is still there, along with some of the sonic bells and whistles. YHF’s success, however, was mainly due to the fact that behind the studio tricks was an album of exquisite pop songs – catchy little ditties that immediately stuck in your head.
A Ghost is Born is not nearly as immediate. One’s first trip through these twelve tracks may actually elicit a yawn or two. One track, “Less Than You Think”, will probably never make anybody’s mix disc, particularly with it’s twelve minute electronic coda. Most of the tracks (with the New Wave-ish “I’m a Wheel” and the Kraftwerk-meets-Crazy Horse electronica of “Spiders (Kidsmoke)” notable exceptions) start off relatively quietly, generally with piano or acoustic guitars, before Tweedy plugs in his guitar and launches the band into overdrive.
As if there was any doubt before, on this album it becomes clear that Wilco is Jeff Tweedy’s band. It’s his Neil Young-ish guitar work that dominates the album; it’s his vocals that have grown stronger and more confident than on previous albums. Not to diminish the contributions from the rest of the band, especially drummer Glen Kotche, but they are truly supporting players, adding whatever flourish is needed to highlights Tweedy’s muse.
Although not as immediately catchy, these are some of Tweedy’s greatest compositions. The overall story of the album seems to be Tweedy’s search for identity, and his struggle as an artist to balance the expectations of his followers with his desire to discover new avenues as a songwriter and musician. Many would love for him to just keep rewriting party-rocking-roots-rockers such as“Casino Queen” or “Passenger Side”; true artists know that this route would be the road to nowhere.
PJ Harvey
Uh Huh Her
With all the hoopla surrounding Jack White’s modern day update of the blues, it should be pointed out that PJ Harvey was combining dirty blues and punk rock almost a full decade before we even heard of the White Stripes.
Not that Harvey sounds anything like the Jack and Meg. While the White Stripes put a pop spin around old Son House licks, Harvey’s excursions into the blues are just as dirty, if not dirtier, as her influences. Harvey uses the blues as primal scream therapy; punctuating stinging riffs with a matching vocal intensity.
Harvey’s last album - Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea – was one of her rare moves away from that format; a clean and sophisticated recording that was still as satisfying as her more typical albums. Uh Huh Her returns to the sound of albums such as Dry and Rid of Me, and unfortunately does have a bit of a been there/done that feel. Yet this album’s best moments, particularly “The Desperate Kingdom of Love” and “Who the F***” stands up with the best of any of her previous releases.
Glen Tillbrook
Transatlantic Ping Pong
One of the most disappointing episodes of VH1’s Bands Reunited series was the decision by the members of Squeeze to not reunite. While the episodes featuring A Flock of Seagulls and Dramarama were entertaining, nobody would ever expect these bands to survive beyond the oldies circuit.
But it has always seemed like there’s some unfinished business with Squeeze. They were one of the most underrated of all of the British pop bands of the early 80’s; their albums were full of perfect, Beatles-esque pop-rock. Like the great songwriting team of Paul McCartney and John Lennon, neither Glen Tillbrook or Chris Difford have been able to recapture their glory days as solo acts.
Tillbrook’s latest album contains some mixed messages for those hoping for a reunion. On the one hand, there’s sort of a reunion, as Difford cowrote “Where I Can Be Your Friend”. Songs such as “Neptune” and “Hostage”, however, make it clear that Tillbrook still harbors quite a bit of ill will for the rest of the band.
It appears, though, that this anger has inspired Tillbrook, as Transatlantic Ping Pong is his strongest album to date. The writing is clever and witty; musically, he’s moved away from his recent reliance on drum machines and keyboards to a more lively, guitar-oriented rootsy sound. In fact, it’s his first album to sound a little bit like a certain 80’s band.

Bob Dylan
Bootleg Series Volume 6: Concert at Philharmonic Hall

Fans of America’s greatest songwriter have had a lot to cheer about in recent years. Besides a resounding comeback with acclaimed albums such as Love and Theft and Time Out of Mind, he has finally relented to a series of archive releases of recordings otherwise found on the black market.
1997 saw the first volume (Volume 1-3, Rare and Unreleased 1961 – 1991), a three disc set of unreleased outtakes and songs left off of his official albums. A year later, the infamous “Royal Albert Hall” concert from 1966 finally saw an official release. And just two years ago, a double disc compilation of tunes from his 1975 Rolling Thunder ensemble tour was released to considerable acclaim.
Obviously, there’s a ton of additional material in the vaults waiting for release. Besides numerous demos and outtakes, there are hours and hours of “basement tapes” recorded with the Band in 1967. Various concert tours have yet to be documented, including some amazing performances during his underrated “Jesus” years between 1979 and 1981.
The latest set comprises his entire appearance at New York’s Philharmonic Hall on October 31, 1964. Unknown to his fans, Dylan was an artistic crossroads at this point in his life. Just three months before this show, he had released Another Side of Bob Dylan, an album that moved away from political and moral topics in favor of wounded love songs. Just weeks after the show, he would enter the recording studio with a band for the first time and completely change the shape of rock ‘n’ roll with songs such as “Subterranean Homesick Blues” and “Maggie’s Farm”.
In hindsight, it’s pretty clear listening to this concert that he was moving on. Many of his “standards” (“The Times They Are A-Changin’”, “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright”) are given perfunctory performances; he seems more inspired during the more unknown songs (“Who Killed Davey Moore?”, “If You Gotta Go, Go Now”). The highlights are the debuts of three songs that ultimately ended up on Bringing It All Back Home. It’s obvious that the crowd doesn’t know how to react to these lengthy, wordy songs that appeared to make little literal sense. Dylan had discovered another way to express himself, and rock ‘n’ roll was obviously the better format to brings these visions to life. That’s not to take away from the performances found on this recording, as they’re nothing less than mesmerizing.
What’s really shocking about this show is what happens between songs. Those who came of age after this era have become accustomed to a mysterious figure dressed in black who rarely speaks. He’s a man who seems to exist in his own world, allowing the music to do all of his talking. In fact, the only obvious nod to his private life throughout his dozens of albums was the story of his breaking marriage in 1975’s Blood On the Tracks. (Dylanologists, however, have become quite adept of deconstructing even his most mundane lyrics).
Throughout this performance, Dylan seems downright jovial - joking with the audience and laughing at his own lyrical mistakes. Songs are introduced with lengthy “explanations”; he vamps with Baez throughout her four song appearance. More importantly, his vocals are downright stunning. The diction and phrasing is perfect; words are revealed that are almost unrecognizable on record.
Although many fans are disappointed at the seemingly snail’s pace in releasing this material, at least they’re doing a fantastic job with the material they are releasing. The sound quality is as perfect as possible; the liner notes and accompanying booklet are top-notch. Most importantly, at least Dylan’s allowing this material to be released. The Rolling Stones have a similar treasure chest of material but have yet to release any archive projects. Outside of the Anthology series, the Beatles have been reluctant to put out any vault material. At least Dylan’s not reissuing the same album over and over with new outtakes – a problem that has potentially marred the legacy of David Bowie, Elvis Costello, and the Who.

Franz Ferdinand
Franz Ferdinand

Researching this band, I discovered the perfect description of this album on Amazon’s website – “Franz Ferdinand is an unrelenting smart, fluffy, and fun debut.” It could also be described as the Strokes album that should have came out instead of Room On Fire. Ok, it’s not just the Strokes who are cloned on this album – Interpol and The Rapture are other obvious editorial clichés, and the occasional dance floor touches are straight out of the Gang of Four and Joy Division songbooks.
Yet one can’t help but compare frontman Alex Kapranos to Strokes lead singer Julian Casablancas, particularly given their similar distorted microphone approach. This album succeeds where the Strokes’ latest didn’t simply because they’re not out to change the world. There’s no pretension that this band is aiming to bring back dirty rock ‘n’ roll to the masses. They’re just a quartet of Scottish music fans looking for a good time, and there’s plenty of good times to be found on songs such as “Darts of Pleasure” and “Cheating On You”.

Courtney Love
America’s Sweetheart

It may be stating the obvious, but Mrs. Kurt Cobain is one complex woman. Depending on the year or month (or even time of day), she can be either a coked-up junkie, a sweet sex kitten, a sophisticated high society woman, the godmother of female punk rock, or even a incense-and-peppermints California flower child.
Yet none of these personnas are ever fake. They may be temporary, but one can’t argue with Love’s drive. Her perverse twists and turns may be ill-guided, but they’re pure Courtney.
One would think that kind of drive and vision would make her well-respected. After all, we’ve followed the various genre jumps of lesser rock stars. Yet the very name Courtney Love is generally followed by eyerolls and grunts of disgust.
And that’s probably why I love her. I could care less about her current legal problems, her reckless stunts at award shows, or the occasional glimpses of bare (and bruised) skin. She’s a true rock star; a word that can barely be used to describe today’s glossy, magazine-cover phonies.
America’s Sweetheart is her first album since 1998’s underrated Celebrity Skin, and it may be her best. It’s the first album to capture (most of) her personalities, including stalker (“But Julian, I’m a Little Bit Older Than You”), groupie (“Zeplin Song”), flower child (“Sunset Strip”), survivor (“Mono”), pop star (“Hold On to Me”, “Almost Golden”), and even metal chick (“All the Drugs”). At times it’s a mess, but it’s a glorious mess that never is less than interesting.

The Cure
Join the Dots: B-Sides and Rarities, 1978-2001

Much like many of the other British alternative stars of the 80’s, The Cure understood the value of the b-side. While few American acts even bothered to tack on unreleased material on their singles, The Cure understood the collector’s market. Many of their best songs could only be found on singles and EP’s; 20 years later these recordings have been fetching high prices on Ebay and other auction sites.
Ending their affiliation with Fiction Records, Cure leader Robert Smith has collected four CD’s of such material, and the timing couldn’t be better. With the band’s influence all over acts like the Rapture and Interpol, it’s time for this generation to discover this great band.
Not that this is a perfect set. As with any rarities collection, there is quite a few lesser tracks, especially from the early 90’s period that’s the bulk of the third disc.
And there’s also a few missing tracks, notably an extended remix of “Boys Don’t Cry” from the late 80’s that blew away the original. In fact, there were whole albums of unreleased material (Curiosity, Carnage Visors) that have yet to be released on disc. With the band’s entire catalog set to be reissued later this year, it’s probably a safe bet that this material is being saved for future bonus tracks.

Von Bondies
Pawn Shoppe Heart

Until the release of this album, the Von Bondies were known only for one reason - Jack White from the White Stripes. First it was because of their friendship; White produced their first album and was considered their mentor. This relationship changed in the past year; the Von Bondies are now best known for the pummeling lead singer Jason Stollsteiner received from White.
In fact, White pleaded guilty to assault on the very same day that Pawn Shoppe Heart was released. Even their major label debut was overshadowed by their arch nemesis!
Hopefully, the quality of this album will make people quickly forget about their offstage tribulations, as Pawn Shoppe Heart is probably the best of the many Detroit-based albums that have been released since the White Stripes have become household names.
Sort of a cross between the ‘Stripes, the Cramps, and the Stooges, Pawn Shoppe Heart is pure raw rock ‘n’ roll, full of the boozy, 60’s-style garage-punk that has been garnering plenty of press and accolades. The second half of the album does slow down a bit, but the material is every bit as strong as the rockier first half.

Damien Rice
O

Irish troubadour Rice’s debut actually came out in 2003, but it’s only in the past few months that his lush, boundary-pushing album has been noticed. Largely self-produced and home-recorded, Rice’s songs revolve around the age-old concerns of frustrated life and love. What would be sugar-coated mush by a lesser artist is an intimate, personal revelation by Rice.
It’s also one of the more varied acoustic confessional albums of recent years. At times soft and sincere, many tracks are surprisingly loud and angry. The accompaniment of Vyvienne Long’s cellos and Lisa Hannigan’s frail harmony vocals are perfect touches that add to whatever mood Rice is projecting.
Capitalizing on Rice’s increased notoriety, Warner Brothers has reissued this album with a DVD featuring live performances of a number of the album’s many musical highlights.

Neil Young
Greendale

When Neil Young announced a summer tour with his legendary band, Crazy Horse, fans rejoiced at the thoughts of spending another 2 1/2 hours listening to feedback-enriched versions of their favorite tunes from the last 30 years. “Cortez the Killer”. “Like a Hurricane”. “Hey Hey, My My”. Maybe even an acoustic miniset including “Heart of Gold”, “Old Man”, and “Sugar Mountain”.
But Young has never been predictable (wow, that’s an understatement). This is a man who has veered from folk to blues to grunge to country to rockabilly (and on and on and on). This is a man who routinely follows his most successful albums with his most “tortured”.
So Young fans making the trek to see the Godfather of Grunge didn’t get their greatest hits tour. Instead, they were treated to a performance called Greendale, a two hour “rock novel” featuring not only the members of Crazy Horse but actors, stage hands, and seemingly anyone else hanging out behind the stage.
Young fans were polarized by this extravaganza. Fair-weather fans cried foul, complaining that they didn’t get what they paid for (despite the 40 minute encore of his heaviest hits). True Young fans, however, were thrilled. How often does one get to hear two hours of new music by their favorite artist - especially in this day and age where artists are so paranoid about the internet?
But how would this material translate to compact disc? After all, Young’s recent albums have been a bit lackluster, at least by Young’s standards. Since 1992’s Ragged Glory, his albums have seemed a bit aimless; a bit confused. It’s almost like Young felt he had something to say but wasn’t quite sure just what that was.
Well, Young has a lot to say, and Greendale is a sort of state of the union speech from the aging rocker. Set in a fictional small town in northern California, the story revolves around several generations of a family named Green. There’s cranky old Grandpa Green, former hippies Grandma Green, their Vietnam vet-turned-psychedelic painter son Earl Green, his ecology-minded daughter Sun Green; and her gun-crazy cousin Jed.
There’s plenty of drama - Jed kills a local cop when stopped with drugs. The media descends on Grandpa for soundbites, which leads to a fatal heart attack while pointing a gun at a reporter. Sun Green then mounts a one-woman environmental crusade against the government.
Like all rock operas, the story is full of holes, as Young is smart enough to understand that the strength of the songs is more important than the literal story. After all, Quadrophenia featured a better story than Tommy, but few would argue that Tommy pales in comparison. And for the most part, the songs are relatively strong. Many are simple Jimmy Reed-ish blues, which at times seems to blend together. But the best of the tunes, “Falling From Above”, “Grandpa’s Interview”, “Bandit”, and the peace, love, and tie-dye finale, “Be the Rain”, rank with anything that Young has previously recorded.
Even on the lesser tunes, however, the live-in-the-studio production is extraordinary. Reportedly recorded literally minutes after each song was written, it sounds like Young and his Crazy Horse buddies are in the same room as the listener.

Warren Zevon
The Wind

To my knowledge, no artist has had the opportunity to prepare his own musical eulogy. Sure, Joey Ramone and George Harrison recorded their final albums while battling cancer, but both albums were ultimately finished by friends and family.
Warren Zevon entered the recording studio last fall with full knowledge that he had little time left in this world. Diagnosed with lung cancer and initially told he only had three months to live, Zevon rushed into the studio for one last collection of songs. Friends such as Bruce Springsteen, Jackson Browne, Dwight Yoakam, and most of the Eagles volunteered their services, as did legendary session musicians Ry Cooder, David Lindley, and Jim Keltner.
As told on a VH1 documentary that’s been running for the last few weeks, Zevon certainly had his struggles at times during the recording. Oftentimes he was too weak to record, and the final two tracks were delayed for a few months before an April home session finalized the disc.
What’s surprising is that the final product ranks right up there with the best of Zevon’s work. Maybe it’s not so surprising, as Zevon has always been a sarcastic writer; one of the most self-deprecating songwriters of our time.
The wit, and the fire, is still evident throughout the album. Mortality is obviously the theme of the album, but that’s not exactly a new occurrence in a Zevon album. And like those previous recordings, the songs mix this theme with crazed humor, or what Mojo calls “the specter of the gallows with the prospect of an all-night party”.
This album also could have been nothing more than a tribute album, with all of the guest superstar contributions. Luckily, the high-profile friends play respectful roles, never stealing the limelight from Zevon. If anything, they add to loose camaraderie that just oozes from the disc. Obviously, a few tears were shed, but there was also plenty of smiles.
That’s not to say there are a few bum notes, as a couple of tunes are just a bit too slick. But overall, one gets the feeling that Zevon was doing everything he could to hold on until the end. And he did, outlasting the initial three month prognosis by almost a full year; finally dying on September 8, almost two weeks after the album’s release.