Books of 2026, #2 - "The Uncool," Cameron Crowe

Cameron Crowe's first years at Rolling Stone corresponded roughly with the time I first began buying the magazine (or asking mom or dad to buy it for me), the Summer of 1974.  At the time I had no idea who Crowe was, or that he had begun writing for the magazine the same year I finished elementary school (1972). 

I started subscribing in 1976, but it wasn't until I bought all of the remaining bound versions of the magazine when they closed the San Francisco warehouse in 1978 that I really began to delve into the past issues.  Via those bound editions I have every issue from November 1972 through April 1976, which many (if not most) observers would probably agree represented the peak years of the publication.  I feel exceptionally lucky to have those bound issues; they are a treasure trove of musical and political history, not to mention personal memories.  For example, when I see the May 1975 cover with John Denver on the cover, I remember exactly where I was on the day I bought the issue - in Berkeley, as part of a high school field trip to visit the UC Berkeley campus.

I don't know that I read every single one of Crowe's features for the magazine, but certainly read most of those that play a role in The Uncool.  To this day, the one that sticks in my memory the most (and which he references in the book) is his contribution to "The Men's Issue," a very funny piece based on his adventures (and more often, misadventures) learning about sex while on many occasions being surrounded by rock stars, roadies, and groupies.  Not every 15-year old boy would have turned down an offer to be seduced to instead go back to his room to watch Steely Dan on The Midnight Special, but kudos to Crowe for making what was almost certainly the right choice.

Where Crowe fits into the pantheon of the first and second generation of RS writers is an interesting question.  If you accept Robert Draper's 1990 "uncensored history" of the magazine as the definitive account of those years (I'd certainly trust it more than Almost Famous, and Draper definitely talked to all the right people), there isn't really evidence of him being among the famous or prolific of the RS stable of writers.  The "most famous" title would probably fall to either Hunter S. Thompson or Annie Leibovitz, and maybe throw in an honorable mention for Ralph J. Gleason.  Crowe wrote a lot of features, but Ben Fong-Torres (and maybe even David Felton) wrote more.  Among those with more mentions in Draper's book than Crowe include Lester Bangs, Jonathan Cott, Fong-Torres, Gleason, Jon Landau, Leibovitz, Greil Marcus, Dave Marsh, Paul Nelson, Charles Perry, Paul Scanlon, Thompson, Charles M. Young, and of course Jann and Jane Wenner.  

Crowe didn't write reviews for RS, but he was among those asked to name their ten favorite records for the Tenth Anniversary issue.  Crowe's ten selections (and what he wrote about each) were:

Katy Lied, Steely Dan.  Anonymous, absolutely impeccable swing pop.  No cheap displays of human emotion.

Something/Anything, Todd Rundgren.  Gloriously cheap displays of human emotion.

For the Roses, Joni Mitchell.  In which Joni Mitchell so far outstrips anything else to emerge from the singer/songwriter boom that half the field promptly drops out.

Physical Graffiti, Led Zeppelin.  Harder than Exile on Main Street and three times as convincing.

At the Fillmore East, The Allman Brothers Band. The tragic and ultimately garish aftermath of the Allman Brothers Band began immediately after the release of this magnificent live album.  Now their memory is all but obscured; no one even yells out "Whipping Post" at concerts anymore.  Their spooky pinnacle remains.

Jackson Browne, Jackson Browne.  Taken as a whole, this album is a southern California Catcher in the Rye.  Jackson will doubtlessly continue to make more finely crafted records, but nothing as wide-eyed and endearing as the first.  

Spinners, The Spinners.  Thom Bell, ladies and gentlemen.  Thom Bell!

"Take it Easy," The Eagles.  Those first two chords mean instant top-down summer...anywhere, any time.  Not, however, worth the trip to Winslow, Arizona.

"Ohio," Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.  If punk is any indication of the alternative I'll stick with the Sixties wimps.

Reading The Uncool, none of those choices (with the possible exception of The Spinners) should come as a huge surprise.  So given all of this, where should one place Crowe in the RS pantheon?  I'd say at or near the top tier, for a couple of reasons.  One, he served as a bridge of sorts, both between a new generation of potential RS readers and the old guard, and between a group of artists that either Wenner, one of his feature writers, or one of his critics had offended over the years.  Without Crowe, it is possible that there never would have been feature cover stories on the Allmans, Joni, Zeppelin, Eagles, or David Bowie.  Those are all major artists, and an important piece of that era which otherwise might have gone totally untouched.

So to the book.  Let me start by saying that I enjoyed it a great deal.  In thinking about how Crowe approached the material, I think he could have gone two ways.  Chet Flippo, for example, wrote a wonderful book - On The Road With The Rolling Stones - based largely on his reporting on the Stones tours of the 1970s and his features about the band that appeared in RS during those years.  Crowe takes a different route - he is telling his story and his family's story, and in many ways the big rock stars are just his supporting cast.  You're as invested in the ultimate outcomes for his mother, father and two sisters as you are in what happens during his crazy times with Kris Kristofferson, David Bowie, Gregg Allman or Jimmy Page - legendary curmudgeons all.

For me, the best parts of the book were less the encounters with those legends - after all, we've all read a million stories over the years about Eagles, Zeppelin, Bowie et al. - but the quick connections with people like Jim Croce and Maury Muehleisen, Ronnie Van Zant and Billy Powell, Lee Michaels, Ronnie Wood.  Because I'm familiar with many of the Riverside County and San Diego locales that play prominent roles, that added to my enjoyment.  Hey, I saw Bruce Springsteen at the same venue where Cameron Crowe saw Elvis!  Making those types of connections are always cool.

My favorite chapter of the book is the one in which he describes his first meeting with Jann Wenner.  The meeting occurred on the day that Ralph Gleason died, so Wenner was really in no shape for the conversation, but kept his commitment.  At that point, in the early Summer of 1975, Crowe was on a real high - he had penned the cover story on Zeppelin, which had turned out to be one of the highest selling issues ever.  But Wenner wasn't there to clap him on the back, he was there to help make Crowe a better writer:

"Listen," he finally said.  "You missed the story."  My heart sank.  "I mean, you clearly love Led Zeppelin, but what was your purpose here?"

I stammered something about wanting to accomplish what was once unthinkable.  A cover story on the band who hated the magazine the most.  Like me, there were many fans who wanted to read about them in Rolling Stone.  

"But you didn't write about what you saw, what you felt."  He rubbed his face.  It was still red with tears. "You wrote what they wanted you to write, not what you wanted to write.  What did you see?  What did you feel?  What did you want to say about them?  Because this article could have been dictated by the band.  What would a real writer have written?"

Jann Wenner has deservedly gotten a lot of heat and outright disdain over the years for some questionable decisions, but in this passage Crowe provides a valuable insight into just why Wenner was so successful for so long.  I've seen Greil Marcus and Dave Marsh both say how Wenner contributed to their skills as writers, but I've never seen an example quite as good as this one.

One thing people should know before buying the book  If you're looking for a lot of material about Crowe's work in film or much of anything about music of the past two decades, this is not the book for you.  But it definitely was the book for me.

Next in the queue: Gambler: Secrets from a Life at Risk, Billy Walters.

A Musical Tour: 2025 Albums

Since I began participating in a year-end music poll a few years back, I've taken my own year-end rankings more seriously than one should.  Last year I made the mistake of submitting my ballot too early, which resulted in what turned out to be my favorite album of 2024 - Wussy's Cincinnati, Ohio - not even being on my list.

The poll, based on the format of the Village Voice Pazz & Jop Poll (more on that below), is on Facebook, so participants can view each submittal as they're posted on the site.  I took my time this year, made note of albums I hadn't heard that were appearing on a lot of lists, and submitted my own entry on the day before the January 3 deadline.  Even then, once the results were published, there were a couple of high finishers that might have cracked my Top Ten. 

Like Pazz & Jop, the way the poll works is that participants have 100 points to allot to 10 albums.  The maximum award is 30, the minimum 5.  A lot of participants (this year there were 304) just pick 10 albums and award 10 points to each, but I've always thought that was the easy way out.  For me, this year was difficult, because truth be told there wasn't a huge gap between my #1 and my #10 (or even #20, for that matter).  

1. Patterson Hood, Exploding Trees and Airplane Screams (15 points).  In the liner notes, Hood writes, "My solo albums have always had a separate life from my work with DBT (Drive-By Truckers, for the uninitiated), but I decided that the next time I did one, it needed to be a bigger departure than the others."  That is certainly true - had the album been released in November instead of February, it might not have cracked my Top Ten.  Which is to say, the songs took a while to sink in.  There's only one obvious rocker, "The Van Pelt Parties," which is about a family that hosted huge parties on Christmas Even when Hood was growing up.  The songs are largely autobiographical, and in several instances - most notably, "Airplane Screams," a song Hood wrote about a troubled friend when he was only twenty - originally written years ago.  

2. Big Thief, Double Infinity (13).  The band's 2022 album, Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You, was probably more heralded (it even received a Grammy nomination), but Double Infinity clicked with me in a way the previous record never did.  This is atmospheric rock/folk at its best.  Adrienne Lenker doesn't have a "pretty" voice per se, but she sings beautifully on the album.  Choice cuts: "Words," "Los Angeles," "No Fear," "Grandmother," "How Could I Have Known."

3. Snocaps, Snocaps (12).  Snocaps is comprised of twin sisters Katie and Allison Crutchfield, with key assists from Brad Cook and MJ Lenderman.  Katie is best known for her outstanding work in/as Waxahatchee, and the sisters do themselves proud on this joint effort.  They each sing on the album, and to these ears it's impossible to tell them apart.  The best songs - in particular, "Doom" and  - are the ones where they sing in harmony.  The album clocks in with 13 songs and at a brisk 33 minutes, and there is not a single minute wasted.

4. Bruce Springsteen, Tracks II (11).  How often does an album (or in this case, a box set) have its own trailer?  Maybe it's happened once or twice, but off the top of my head I don't remember one.  But there it was last April, a trailer for Tracks II, with Bruce himself talking about how people assumed he didn't do much work during the 90s (outside of raising some kids, presumably), but no!  He was working all the time!  And there were not one, not two, not even three, but SEVEN unreleased albums in the can, an injustice that would now be rectified in three short months.  What Bruce fan would not be excited by such news?  For Bruce fans, it was like our "Taylor's Version" announcement.

As it turns out, the marketing was a little misleading.  Two of the "albums" included in the package - LA Garage Sessions '83 (Disc 1) and Perfect World (Disc 7) aren't really albums per se, they're compilations of unreleased tracks, similar to the original Tracks set and the discs that accompanied the anniversary versions of Darkness on the Edge of Town and The River.  A third disc, Fearless, is a soundtrack from a movie that was never made.  But that leaves four fully-realized albums that for various reasons Bruce chose not to release: Streets of Philadelphia Sessions (although I'm sure it would have been called something different had it been released at the time), Somewhere North of Nashville, Inyo, and Twilight Hours.  

Of those four, the one I was most looking forward to - Streets of Philadelphia Sessions - is the one I enjoyed the least.  It's not bad, probably A-/B+ territory, but for me it proved that what no doubt would have been the album's title track had it been released at the time was a glorious one-shot whose quality couldn't quite be extended over the course of an entire album.  North of Nashville is a fun romp, and would likely have been considered just that.  Not quite "Bruce goes country," but close enough.

That leaves Inyo and Twilight Hours, two albums that couldn't sound less alike if he was trying (maybe he was), and they're both great - solid A's.  My guess is that Inyo likely appeals most to fans of Nebraska, The Ghost of Tom Joad and Devils & Dust.  The following is written in the box set's liner notes, and is a fair description of what the album is about:

Inyo is another set of richly woven, deeply human stories like those found on The Ghost of Tom Joad and Devils & Dust, albums contemporary to much of this material.  Several touch on the Mexican diaspora: how border crossing between Mexico and the US has affected generations, along with the cultural losses endured as a result.  A few were written during the 1995-97 solo tour in support of Joad.

It's an album that benefits from repeated listens, and it definitely helps to have the lyric sheet handy. But to these ears, the music is gorgeous, perfectly complementing the stories Bruce tells in the songs.

Which leaves Twilight Hours, the biggest surprise in the set.  It's been described as his Sinatra album, which makes sense, but it's both different and more than that.  It's Bruce exploring a genre of music that he obviously respects - the Sinatra chapter in his memoir makes that clear - and unlike much of his foray into Jimmy Webb/Glen Campbell territory on Western Stars, it works in a way that makes me astonished that he never let the record see the light of day until now. 

The two compilation albums that bracket the set?  I'm glad they exist, and they provide an insight into what Bruce was thinking about and working on at the time the songs were recorded.  Like all compilations of the type, they're a little hit and miss, but there's far more than enough outstanding material to justify their existence.

5. Hayley Williams, Ego Death At a Bachelorette Party (10).  I was embarrassingly late to the party on Paramore, the band for which Williams is the lead singer.  The first inkling that they'd been around a lot longer than I knew was when some of my colleagues covered one of their songs during a karaoke event at a conference I attended.  I'd describe her solo album as being more pop-oriented than her work with Paramore, and the album - 20 tracks, many of which she released as singles over the course of 2025 - is an embarrassment of riches.  It was really difficult to pick just four tracks for my year-end playlist from the album, and I'm still not sure I chose the right four.

6. James McMurtry, The Black Dog and the Wandering Boy (10).  McMurtry is another artist where it's good to have the lyric sheet handy, which one would expect given he's the son of Larry, the great 20th Century novelist.  Black Dog is a little more diffuse thematically and perhaps not quite as good as 2015's Complicated Game and 2021's The Horses and The Hounds, but considering both of those were my favorite albums the years they were released, that's hardly an insult.  Highlights are "South Texas Lawman," which could be expanded to a great short story, "Annie," and "Sailing Away."  The album concludes with a great cover of Kris Kristofferson's "Broken Freedom Song."  Produced by Don Dixon, a name I don't think I'd seen since the 1980s.

7.  Robert Plant with Suzi Dian, Saving Grace (9).  Every now and then you see an invitation to post your "least popular take" about movies, music, etc.  Definitely one of my least popular takes is that I think Robert Plant's post-Led Zeppelin musical catalogue is fully equal to that which came before, if not superior.  That's intended more as praise for Plant than as disrespect to Zeppelin, but we're now 46 years past the last Zeppelin album and Plant just keeps cranking out one good album after another, exploring myriad styles but always sounding just like himself (although those high notes are a thing of the past, I think).  The highlight of this record is his cover of "I Never Will Marry," nearly half a century after Linda Ronstadt's great version (with Dolly Parton on harmony) on Simple Dreams.

8. The Delines, Mr. Luck and Ms. Doom (8).  Hailing from Portland, Oregon, they call themselves a "retro country-soul band."  Listening to their songs, you can imagine them being recorded somewhere in the south in the late 1960s.  Think of Bobbie Gentry mixed with the Muscle Shoals sound, and you get the idea.  This was my first deep foray into their work, but it won't be the last.  Highlights: "There's Nothing Down the Highway," the title track, and "Maureen's Gone Missing."

9. Kathleen Edwards, Billionaire (7).  I still remember where I was the first time I heard Kathleen Edwards.  We were on a short vacation in Santa Cruz, and during an afternoon strolling around the downtown area we found ourselves browsing at the local Borders, where her album Back to Me (her second) was playing.  The album, and especially the song "Summerlong," resonated with me immediately and I bought the record (something I had a habit of doing back in those days).  It was outstanding, as was the follow-up, Asking for Flowers.  The album after that was a letdown, overly influenced by her then-relationship with Bon Iver.  Then came nearly a decade with no new music, during which she actually opened and operated a coffee shop.  She returned with the solid Total Freedom in 2020, and in early 2025 released a couple of solid EPs, one that was all cover versions.  

Billionaire was described by Pitchfork as "a polished update of the rough-edged alt-country folk rock that informed her first three LPs," and that's fair.  The album was co-produced by Jason Isbell, and his recognizable guitar licks can be heard on nearly every track.  The title track just might be my favorite song of 2025, and "Other People's Bands" isn't far behind.  

10. Jason Isbell, Foxes in the Snow (5).  Speaking of Jason Isbell...this was his first truly solo album, featuring strictly acoustic guitar with very little (or perhaps none, it's sometimes hard to tell) accompaniment.  Going into 2025, I had a feeling we would be seeing new albums from Isbell and his now-ex wife Amanda Shires, and admittedly I wasn't looking forward to it.  Their breakup really bummed me out, even if anyone who watched the movie that was on HBO a while back could tell that there were some issues brewing there.  Unlike Shires, whose album was difficult to listen to because the pain and anger emanated from every track, Isbell doesn't address the breakup directly, although there are lines in both "Eileen" and "Good While It Lasted" that could be interpreted as being about what happened.  Overall it's very solid work, if not as powerful as his recent albums with the 400 Unit.

The Second Ten

Honestly, on any given day one of these albums might have found their way into the Top Ten - it was that close.

Lilly Hiatt – Forever.  Less heralded and less popular than she should be.

HAIM – I quit.  To these ears, their best album.

Tyler Childers – Snipe Hunter.  Produced by the erstwhile Rick Rubin, and a big step forward for a guy who will be a big star (and may be one now, for all I know).

Hayes Carll – We’re Only Human.  Carll just has a knack for writing great songs.  "Progress of Man (Bitcoin and Cattle)" is the all-timer here, and "High" (yes, it's about what you think it's about) isn't far behind.

Amanda Shires – Nobody’s Girl.  As noted above, very painful to listen to.  Jason clearly did her wrong, and if it didn't quite feel so much as if the album was her effort to make him look as bad as possible (and don't get me wrong, maybe he deserves it), I'd probably have ranked it a little higher.  But a truly great singer, and several of the songs are well beyond top-notch.

Lady Gaga – MAYHEM.  I'm not enough of a Gaga expert to know if this is a return to form or just the latest in a long line of good albums, but every song is filled with hooks and quite danceable - not that you'd want to see me try.

Bob Mould – Here We Go Crazy.  Remember Husker Du?  Great 80s band, mostly unsung.  Mould has continued to make records since then, and this is one of the best.

Lola Young – I’m Only F**cking Myself.  Last summer, I asked some of my younger friends (mostly in their 30s) what the summer bangers were, and one of them turned me on to Lola Young's "Messy" from 2024.  There's nothing quite that good on this album, but several cuts come very close.

Beach Bunny – Tunnel Vision.  Want hooks?  This band has more than enough to go around.

Margo Price – Hard-Headed Woman.  Fully back in the country fold, and this just might be her best.

The Rest

There was a lot of good stuff last year, and in addition to those above I enjoyed 2025 albums by: The Beths, Horsegirl, Wet Leg, Rodney Crowell, David Byrne, Bryan Ferry & Amelia Barratt, Blondshell, Mike Farris, Alison Krauss & Union Station, Patty Griffin, Emma Swift, Van Morrison, The Mountain Goats, Mavis Staples, Blood Orange, Galactic with Irma Thomas, Doja Cat, Wednesday, Sunny Sweeney, Trousdale, Patty Griffin, Clipse, Eric Church, and Japanese Breakfast.

Overall, I can't complain.  It was a good year, which was good because the need for distractions was at an all-time high.

"In the worst of times music is a promise that times are meant to be better." - Robert Christgau

Books of 2026, #1 - "The Proving Ground" (Michael Connelly)

The Proving Ground is the 40th book by Michael Connelly that I've read.  The first, The Black Ice, was released in 1993.  To put that in perspective, I've been reading books by Connelly for about half of my 65 years.  My 35 year old son was 2, and my 31 year old son wasn't even born.  That's a lot of time, and a lot of Connelly books.  I'm not even sure Stephen King has been that prolific over the same period of time - but no, I'm not going to check.

This is the 8th Connelly book featuring Mickey Haller, the Lincoln Lawyer (9, if you count his co-starring turn in The Crossing, which was billed as a Harry Bosch novel).  It's a return to top form for Connelly after The Waiting, which wasn't the best Bosch/Renee Ballard book; and Nightshade, which introduced a new character stationed on Catalina Island (Detective Stillwell) - which was fine, but lacked the punch of the best Connelly.

The plot of The Proving Ground is, as they say, ripped straight from the headlines.  Mickey Haller, who is now focusing solely on civil cases (and has semi-retired his beloved Lincoln), takes the case of a mother whose teenage daughter was murdered by an ex-boyfriend, on the advice of an AI chat companion.  The company being sued, "Tidalwaiv," is headed for a lucrative merger and looking to settle the case by any means necessary.  Complications ensue when the parents of the boy who pulled the trigger join the case.  Are they on the same page as the grieving mother, or are they more worried about protecting their own son and their reputation as parents?  Key witnesses are reluctant to testify.  Can Haller turn them to his side?

Mickey's ex-wife Maggie McPherson plays an important role in the book, and his chums Lorna (another ex-wife) and Cisco are also on board.  Bosch (who for the uninitiated, is Haller's half brother, revealed many books ago) is mentioned, but only a couple of times, and in a way that makes it possible if not likely that his next appearance may be his last.  The courtroom dialogue is crisp, the opposing lawyers are appropriately oily, and yes, it's a hard book to put down.

All in all well done, and recommended.

Next in the queue: Cameron Crowe's memoir, The Uncool.

New Year

In California, the first Monday in January marks the first day of the legislative session, after a break in the fall that begins on September 1 in even-numbered years and in mid-September in odd-numbered years.  It takes a while for the Legislature to get into gear, introduce bills and start committee hearings, but January is truly a "hit the ground running" month, because the governor is required to release his proposed budget for the next fiscal year on or before January 10.  As I sometimes joked, the timing was designed in a way to fully eradicate all the good will built up over the holiday season as quickly as possible.

Because I retired in October, today was the first such Monday in a very long time where none of that really mattered.  I'm not sure I've quite gotten the hang of "the retirement thing," but I'm getting there.  Today I braved the elements (not super cold, but quite windy) for a walk, and caught this little tree in a nearby park with a few lonely Christmas ornaments still hanging.  We'll see how long it takes for the holiday-minded person who put them up to retrieve them.

Taking Stock of 2025 Albums

When the year nears an end and I'm putting my list of Top Ten albums together, the question I'll need to ask myself is whether a box set of old but newly released music should be on the list.  Because barring a musical miracle, there's no question that Springsteen's "Tracks II: The Lost Albums" will be my favorite music of 2025.  I'll get around to writing about it sometime, but it's hard to argue with a set that includes four fully realized albums (all of which are B+ or above, and two of which are solid As), a solid soundtrack album, and two CDs of previously unreleased music, both of which fill in significant gaps in Springsteen's musical history and evolution.

But that's a question for then, and not now.  For now, I'm going to include it in my mid-year list of ten, and we'll see how things pan out by December.

My listening habits have changed since I started using Spotify; it now takes quite a bit for an album to sink into my psyche to a level where I want to keep listening to it, again and again.  Given the easy access to music from the past that is not a part of my physical collection and my ongoing obsession with creating the perfect playlist, that's not a surprise.  Is it a good thing?  That's for others to decide.

So, in alphabetical order by the artist's name, here are 10 albums which reached that level:

Blondshell, If You Asked for a Picture.  Still deciding whether this is as good as/better than the debut, but this is an artist that should be getting more attention.  Call it rock, call it power pop - either way, it's very good.

The Delines, Mr. Luck and Ms. Doom.  Christgau described the record as "13 down-and-out Americana tales that the endlessly calm and unassumingly graceful Amy Boone brings to life without dramatizing much less overdramatizing them," and later goes on to say that you may never put it on for fun.  But there's no question it has a gravitas that few albums ever reach, much less albums released this year.

The Doobie Brothers, Walk This Road.  Hey, I'm just as surprised as the rest of you, but this is a very good record from a band that probably never got quite the respect it deserved.  And to answer the obvious question, yes - Johnston, Simmons and McDonald are all on board.

Lilly Hiatt, Forever.  I don't know that she will ever record an album as good as 2020's Walking Proof or a song as good as Some Kind of Drug, but this comes as close as one could expect.

Patterson Hood, Exploding Trees & Airplane Screams.  This one took a bit of listening to sink in, but after having made the effort I'm comfortable saying that it's the best solo album from the erstwhile Drive-By Trucker.

Jason Isbell, Foxes in the Snow.  When his breakup with Amanda Shires was made public, I was really bummed - and a little worried to hear the music that would come next, since they were so important to each other's stories.  Isbell responds first with what could be described as a retrenchment, a solo album in the truest sense of the word, with very little (or no) accompaniment.  There's the requisite breakup song and it's pretty harsh to these ears, which makes me very interested (and again, a little worried) to hear how Amanda might respond when her new album is released in September.

James McMurtry, The Black Dog and the Wandering Boy.  The last two albums by James McMurtry, 2015's Complicated Game and 2021's The Horses and the Hounds, were my favorites in the years they were released.  Is Black Dog that good?  Probably not.  But it's a very high bar, and McMurtry comes close to reaching it.  "South Texas Lawman" in particular sounds like a masterpiece.

Bob Mould, Here We Go Crazy.  Husker Du weren't for everyone, and even I wasn't a huge fan of every one of their albums.  But one could never criticize Bob Mould for lack of passion or authenticity.  On his new record, he manages to bridge the gap between sounding very angry and very tuneful, to good effect.

Bruce Springsteen, Tracks II - The Lost Albums.  Very glad he found them.

Wet Leg, moisturizer.  When I listen to Wet Leg, I feel like I'm back in Berkeley in the fall of 1980, a time and place where this record would have fit in perfectly with the soundtrack of that time.

Other albums I've listened to all the way through, at least twice, and in no particular order since the beginning of the year:

Kathleen Edwards, Covers.  Not all great covers, but some that are excellent.

Lady Gaga, Mayhem.  Need to listen more, because it's very good and could break into the Top Ten by year's end.

Alison Krauss & Union Station, Arcadia.  I once referred to Alison Krauss' voice as proof that God exists, and that will never change.  But so far, my favorite songs on the album are the ones sung by Dan Tyminski.

Bryan Ferry with Amelia Barratt, Loose Talk.  Barratt turns melodies from old Roxy Music/Bryan Ferry songs into "song poems."  Weird, but oddly compelling.

Beach Bunny, Tunnel Vision.  Sometimes all you need are the hooks.  And man, does this band have them.

Eric Church, Evangeline vs. the Machine.  Another one worth exploring more.

Maren Morris, Dreamsicle.  So far, I've been disappointed - but I'm not giving up quite yet.

Arcade Fire, Pink Elephant.  OK, they will never again match what they accomplished with their first three albums, but this one could be their best since then.

Counting Crows, Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets!  See comment under Maren Morris.

Suzanne Vega, Flying With Angels.  Not bad at all.

Haim, I Quit.  I think this is their best, but need to keep listening.

Matt Berninger, Get Sunk.  Distinguishes himself from The National more on this record than he did on the last.  But you will never not hear The National when you hear his voice.

Clipse, Let God Sort 'Em Out.  My son's favorite album of the year so far; I need to listen to it more.

And there you have it!

Bosch Makes Way for Ballard - "The Waiting"

 

Michael Connelly has been writing books featuring Harry Bosch for more than three decades now, so it's not surprising that the old detective would be getting a little long in the tooth.  Fortunately, Connelly has been preparing for a post-Bosch world for a while now - in 2017's "The Late Show," he introduced the character of Renee Ballard, and since then she's played an equal (if not greater) role in the Bosch series than Bosch himself.

"The Waiting" is billed, like several books in the Bosch series before it, as a "Ballard and Bosch novel."  But there's no question that Ballard is the star of this particular show, with Bosch playing an important - but definitely supporting - role.  Like Bosch before her, Ballard is now a part of the Open-Unsolved Unit, but times have changed and now most of the unit's members are volunteers without a badge.  Which is where Bosch's daughter Maddie, now a uniformed LAPD officer, comes into the story.  Ballard has been looking for another badge to join the unit, and Maddie Bosch has been following a "like father, like daughter" arc through her interest in the cases from long ago, those where justice was never served.  It's a natural fit, and it works seamlessly.

The main story takes a while to kick in, but when it does it is completely satisfying.  Throwing caution to the wind, Connelly has decided to go after the White Whale of all unsolved Los Angeles crimes, that of the Black Dahlia.  To his credit, he allows this to be Maddie and Renee's story, with no involvement from the old man whatsoever.  What the two find in their search through the past is suitably horrifying, and believable.

By comparison, the story arc featuring Bosch - helping Renee retrieve her badge and gun, which were stolen from her car while she was surfing - feels a little tacked on.  It's not bad per se, but it doesn't feel essential to the story that Connelly wants to tell.  In the end, any Harry Bosch appearance is worth celebrating.  But "The Waiting" is Renee and Maddie's story.

Remembering Scott Kempner and the Del-Lords

The news that Scott Kempner - guitarist, songwriter, and co-lead vocalist of the Del-Lords - had died last November, after having been diagnosed with dementia in 2021, had completely escaped me.

The name is probably not one that will be known to a lot of people, and it seems highly unlikely that the band that he led in the 1980s will be enshrined in the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame. Having said that, both Kempner and the Del-Lords deserve at the very least a footnote in the history of the genre.  

Pictured in the photo at left is Frontier Days, their debut (and best) album.  It's straight-forward rock and roll with plenty of Byrds-like guitars, and a dash of country thrown in for good measure. It more or less stuck out like a sore thumb in 1984. The second British Invasion was in full swing, synth-pop was the order of the day, and I can't think of a single time that I heard one of the album's songs on the radio.  That the band stayed together long enough to record three more good albums by decade's end was a testament to their commitment and the overall quality of their work.

There are two songs on Frontier Days that are right up there in my own "personal pantheon juke box."  One is the album's closer, "Feel Like Going Home," one of the best songs ever written about the vastness of this imperfect country we call home, and the longing for one's loved ones while out on the road.  The second is the song that opens Side Two, "Burning in the Flame of Love."  The song has been a staple of my collections for years, whether they were in the form of a mixtape, a CD, or a playlist.  

But I know what comes next

All the promises that will one day be broken

Hearts will be broken

And, ain't I the perfect fool

Cause I know what love can do but I still need to touch the fire

I still need to stand in the fire

But as time goes by and the seasons turn it's a lesson I'll never learn

Cause in my heart I knew that when I got next to you that 

I'd be burning in the flame of love

Once again I'm burning in the flame of love

R.I.P., Scott Kempner.  You led a really great band.  In my book there are few better epitaphs than that.

Just Another Hall of Fame Band from East L.A.

In 1993, Slash Records released a Los Lobos anthology album with the title, "Just Another Band from East L.A."  While accurate as far as it goes, that's a little like calling The Beatles "just another band from Liverpool."  

Los Lobos have of course never come close to matching the popularity of the Beatles, nor have they had the cultural impact with the general public the way those lads from Liverpool did.  In a perfect world it would be a different story, and Los Lobos would be one of the most popular bands in the world.  

Last week, Governor Gavin Newsom and the first partner Jennifer Siebel announced this year's inductees into the California Hall of Fame, and along with fellow L.A. icons The Go-Go's (whom I'll write about in a separate post), Los Lobos was on the list.

The announcement sent me down a deep Los Lobos rabbit hole.  As it turns out, I own 12 of their albums on physical media - 3 on vinyl, 9 on CD - and I've spent the last week giving them all a listen.  First, it was a very enjoyable experience.  Second, I left the exercise (well, it's probably not quite over yet) with the following observations:

- Los Lobos have never made a bad album.  Sure, some are better than others.  And while that may not sound like such a big deal, there really aren't a lot of artists you can say that about.  For example, Bob Dylan has made a bad album (several, in fact).  Neil Young has made a bad album (Neil has had bad decades, for that matter!).  R.E.M. made a bad album.  Prince made a bad album (although to be fair, the guy was so damn prolific that with him, it's not that bad).  The Rolling Stones?  Historically great.  Numerous bad albums.  Don't despair - these are all members of various Halls of Fame; it just comes with the territory.  

- The band's masterpiece, to these ears, is 1992's Kiko.  But there are others that come close: How Will the Wolf Survive? (1984), The Neighborhood (1990),  and Colossal Head (1996) are all a solid A (on the Christgau scale), and By the Light of the Moon (1987), The Ride (2004), and The Town and the City (2006) are an A-.  The rest?   Somewhere between A- and B+, and every single one features at least one track that's an absolute killer.

- The Lobos have been self-producing their albums for a while now, but it's fascinating to compare their earliest work with T. Bone Burnett at the helm to their middle (and probably best) period, where Mitchell Froom and Tchad Blake really took the bad in directions that few bands are capable of going.  If you look at the band's Wikipedia page, it lists eight genres that the band's work falls under: Chicano rock, Roots rock, Latin rock, Tex-Mex, Country rock, Americana, Heartland rock, and Cowpunk (which I admit is a new one for me).  And it's really not a stretch.

Heartiest of congratulations to Los Lobos - David Hidalgo, Louie Perez, Cesar Rosas, Conrad Lozaano, and Steve Berlin - on their achievement.  And thank you for more than four decades of incredible music.  If you're interested, head on over to my Spotify page (I think you can find your way) for my 60-song tribute to the band.

Resurrection Walk, Michael Connelly

 

The "resurrection walk" referred to in the title of Michael Connelly's 38th (!) novel is a reference to the moment at which someone who has been unjustly imprisoned one again tastes freedom.  The book begins with Mickey Haller, "the Lincoln Lawyer," having successfully achieved such a walk for one of his clients.  Flush with that success and always on the lookout for a potentially lucrative addition to his practice, Haller decides to try and find another "needle in the haystack," as he puts it, among the many letters he's received from prisoners claiming that they've been imprisoned unjustly. 

Though billed as "A Lincoln Lawyer Novel," Harry Bosch makes an appearance in the book's very first chapter, having agreed to assist his half-brother in finding that needle, and then helping Haller thread it through the legal process towards the elusive walk to freedom.  Bosch finds a case that might fill the bill - Lucinda Sanz, in prison for the past five years for killing her ex-husband, a sheriff's deputy.  Something about the case and its investigation doesn't add up for Bosch, and before too long Haller and Bosch are working with Sanz to secure her freedom.

Of course, if proving her innocence were easy there wouldn't be much of a story, and before long numerous roadblocks present themselves. First, the case has to be tried in federal court, where in the words of Haller, "defense cases went to die."  This does provide Connelly with the opportunity to introduce a new character, Judge Ellen Coelho, who brooks no nonsense from any of the attorneys trying the case.  There are mysterious suspected break-ins at the residences of both Haller and Bosch.  And before long, we find out that what happened involved rogue cops, sheriff's gangs, and even the FBI.  The game is on.

Connelly has been on quite a roll lately.  I haven't watched either of the television productions of his two main characters, but I've read every one of his books.  What I've enjoyed in his recent work is that he's allowed his characters to age, and to change over time.  Unlike some other series that I've enjoyed over the years (Crais' Elvis and Joe books, Coben's Win and Myron series) you get the sense that Bosch won't last forever.  He's never been a superman, but his mortality has now become a character of its own.  Where will it all lead?  It will be really sad when he is gone, but it seems inevitable.  

In the meantime, Connelly's work over the past three decades is a landmark in detective fiction.  Enjoy it while you can.

"The Ties That Bind" ("The River" Reimagined)

The second in a series begun by my online friend Larry, where double albums are winnowed down to one strong, two-sided album.

October 1980 - Berkeley, California

Upon entering UC Berkeley as a transfer student in September 1980, I thought I was doing a noble thing by leaving my stereo and record collection at home.  It took me about two weeks to realize what a bad decision that was, and when my parents and brothers visited in early October they brought the stereo as well as a couple of dozen records to tide me over until Winter Break.  Even then, my entire collection would have been a little too big for the dorm room - Rob, Han Song and I were in a "triple," with a bunk bed, a regular bed, three desks, a couple of dressers of drawers, and a closet.  Tight quarters, and if memory serves the stereo ended up in part of the closet.  

At that time I was a Bruce fan, but had never seen him live.  As fate would have it, he was scheduled to perform two shows in late October at the Oakland Coliseum Arena.  As fate would further have it, Rob was a huge Springsteen fan, and along with some of his friends who drove up from Southern California, was planning to sleep overnight in the Arena parking lot in order to buy tickets.  That's how it was done in those days, unless one was willing to shell out the big bucks to a scalper.  And because Rob was a great and very cool guy (as an aside, he would go on to become an Assistant Deputy Secretary of State for Middle Eastern Affairs), he was happy to score two tickets for me without me actually having to stay up all night for them.

Over the years, I would end up seeing Bruce 10 times.  It would be next to impossible for me to choose my favorite among those ten concerts.  The Tunnel of Love tour show I saw in 1988 at Shoreline Ampitheatre is widely considered to be the best of that tour.  The October 1999 Reunion Tour show at the [new and mostly improved] arena in Oakland was amazing, if for no other reason that it was far from certain whether we'd ever have the chance to see Bruce play with the E Street Band again.  Seeing the final leg of that tour at Madison Square Garden the following June...Bruce at MSG?!?  You've got to be kidding me.  And taking my parents to see him at the late (and sometimes lamented) Arco Arena in Sacramento (the Magic tour) was also a highlight.

"The River" 

My introduction to "The River" was not to hear the song, but to read about it - in Greil Marcus' review of No Nukes, the documentary about the 1979 concerts organized by MUSE (Musicians United for Safe Energy).  Marcus, to put it mildly, did not care for the film: "As a film, it's second-rate.  As music and politics, it's a study in puerility."  Springsteen was a late addition to those shows, and it seems possible (if not likely) that he was invited to ensure that the shows would sell out.  

So what did Greil think about Bruce's portion of the show?  Not much:

"Which leaves, as far as No Nukes in concerned, one overriding question: what about Bruce?  It's Springsteen's picture in the ads that's bringing the crowds into the theaters, and it's his performance - or his mere appearance - that has the fans cheering.  Well, he's all right.  He sings "The River," the title tune from his soon-to-come album; it's a well meant tale of working-class defeat, but "Up Shit Creek" might better describe both the fate of the song's characters and the song itself.  He performs "Thunder Road" messily and closes with a spirited "Quarter to Three," which is sabotaged by atrocious sound.  He was far more exciting tossing out a bit of "Rosalita" in last year's TV special Heroes of Rock 'n Roll - but that was a far more exciting film."

It's clearly an important song to Bruce - over the course of his career, he's played only 15 songs more often.  Surprisingly (at least to me), played "The River" more often than "Jungleland," "Growin' Up," "Spirit in the Night," "Backstreets," "She's the One," "Cadillac Ranch," and "No Surrender."  But is it a great song?  On the plus side, the E Street Band sounds magnificent on it.  And musically, it's beautiful.  Unfortunately, and it took me a long time to get there, Marcus' opinion is more right than wrong.  It's difficult to articulate, but forty years on, it comes across as "Springsteen-lite."  There's little in the song to suggest the depth of emotions and the exploration of the human condition that jumps out of the grooves of later songs such as "Nebraska," "Mansion on the Hill," "Born in the USA," "The Ghost of Tom Joad," or even "The Rising."

So the most difficult question in this reimagining was answered: "The River" would not be a part of the "new" album.

"The Ties That Bind" - 1979 Version

As originally recounted in Dave Marsh's 1981 update of his first Springsteen biography and confirmed decades later when the original album was included as part of "The River" box set (which was called "The Ties That Bind"), Bruce had an album set for release in 1979, hot on the heels of his incendiary 1978 tour.  To be titled "The Ties That Bind," the album would include five songs that would show up on "The River" - The Ties That Bind, Hungry Heart, The River, The Price You Pay, and I Wanna Marry You.  The album would have included alternate versions of Stolen Car (a good, but not approaching the greatness of the version that ended up on The River), You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch) done up rockabilly style (tough call on which version is better), and three songs that would never appear on any album outside of compilations - Cindy (no great loss), Be True (great song, was the B-side of Fade Away), and Loose Ends (a real shame this version never ended up anywhere, but the mix is definitely superior to the version that ended up on "Tracks" in 1998).

As an aside, another song whose success has always mystified me is "Hungry Heart" - it just never worked for me, so it does not end up on my reimagined version.  And because I wanted to stay as true to the original as possible, none of the alternate versions or "substitute songs" make it on either.  Which brings us to...

"The Ties That Bind" - 2023 Version

Side One

The Ties That Bind            3:33

Out in the Street                4:17

You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch)        2:35

Jackson Cage                      3:03

Stolen Car                            3:52

Whatever you call the album you put it on, "The Ties That Bind" is the perfect opener.  "Out in the Street" and "You Can Look" continue the generally upbeat vibe, until "Jackson Cage" and especially "Stolen Car" give us a hint that Bruce's thinking is taking a darker turn.

Side Two

Point Blank                        6:06

I Wanna Marry You            3:26

Two Hearts                          2:42

Cadillac Ranch                    3:03

The Price You Pay                5:26

The second side begins with another song that is frankly somewhat terrifying; I can still remember being transfixed the first time I heard it (on a live radio broadcast of one of his legendary Winterland shows in December 1978).  We begin to ascend from the darkness with "I Wanna Marry You" and "Two Hearts" (are better than one, after all), and bring the album to a close with one of Bruce's greatest rockers and what has always felt to me like a vastly under-appreciated gem.

There you have it, only four months after I began working on this.  You might say I overthought it.  But I'm also OK with where it ended up.

The Double Album Challenge #1: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Elton John

Prelude - 1992

Remember the early days of the Internet?  I can't pinpoint the exact day when the Internet became a reality for me, but it would have been sometime in early 1992, when I was working for the California State University's Office of Governmental Affairs.  Because the main CSU Chancellor's Office was in Long Beach and our office was in Sacramento (across from the State Capitol), we were always the last to get the new technology.  When I began working for CSU in June 1991, the office was in the dark ages of computer technology, outfitted with a Wang computer system (does that company even exist today?).  For the first few months, I didn't even have a desktop computer, because the office had been told that fancy Apple computers were on the way.  So whenever I needed to write something (which was fairly often, since writing was a pretty big part of my job), I had to use the terminal in the kitchen.  This led to a lot of jokes when visitors from Long Beach were in town ("So Jeff, I guess you're still on probation?"), but it also taught me something which was worth its weight in gold - the ability to focus on the task at hand, while tuning everything else out.

When the blessed day arrived, our IT person hooked me up first - which I think was my reward for having suffered for so long.  I even remember his name - Dan DuBois.  And when Dan set up my new system, he told me about this really cool thing called the World Wide Web.  My initial reaction was probably along the lines of "yeah, ok, can you just get this set up so I can start writing these bill letters?"  Little did I know that the biggest challenge to my focus was about to enter my life.  This was long before anyone had ever talked about toxic social media, and the need to shelter children from it.  Long before the days of computer viruses, long before Facebook, long before Twitter, long before guys like Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk became household names.  No, back in those days, the Internet was fun.  Want to read the latest edition of Blue and Gold Illustrated for the latest analysis of Notre Dame football?  Check.  Want to read special versions of Peter King's football columns?  Check.  Stuff about movies?  Check.  Internet only music publications like Addicted to Noise?  Just about every kind of weird stuff you can possibly imagine, arcane but entertaining?  Check.  You could even access Playboy, including the centerfolds (but I only read it for the articles, I promise).

But for me, the most fun part about the early days of the Internet were the connections you could make.  You could find people with like interests from all over the country (or beyond).  You could find someone like Sheila O'Malley, who on her blog wrote brilliantly (and still does today) about film and acting, about Elvis (some of the best Elvis essays this side of Greil Marcus, Dave Marsh and Peter Guralnick), about James Joyce, about her "dead boyfriend" Alexander Hamilton, about family and many other things.  You could find someone like the late David Mills, who wrote for great TV shows like NYPD Blue, ER, and Treme (I once recommended a record store in New Orleans to David).  You could find someone from Berkeley, who like yourself loved Bruce Springsteen, and then actually run into that person at a Bruce concert and introduce yourself (that would be Steven Rubio).  And you could engage in online conversations with them, at least some of the time wondering why they would even give you the time of day.  It was pretty damn cool.  After a few years of reading blogs by others and commenting on their posts, in 2006 I started this blog, which for a while was very active.  Not so much today.  Why?  Let's just say that life has a way of taking one down some interesting and unexpected paths.  

I have to admit I don't remember exactly how and when I connected with Larry Aydlette.  I'm guessing it was probably through comments on Sheila's blog or Facebook page?  But no matter.  We've never met in person, but if and when we do, I think we'd have a pretty good conversation.  We have similar tastes on a lot of different fronts, and even though we live on opposite sides of the country, I suspect we might share similar views on a lot of "topics of the day," shall we say.  Like me, Larry is a big music fan, and on that front we also share similar (but not identical) tastes.

On his Substack, Larry came up with the idea of exploring double albums (a concept which probably makes sense only to persons of a certain age), and the question of whether all of them would be better as a single album.  And for nearly all of them, the answer is probably "yes."  Off the top of my head, I can think of three albums where I'd argue to the death that removing even a single song would be blasphemy: The Rolling Stones' Exile on Main St., London Calling by The Clash, and Blonde on Blonde by Bob Dylan.  The rest, even the ones I love (e.g. Bruce Springsteen's The River), are fair game.

Larry's first choice was Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.  In this post, I take up the challenge.  But before we get there, let's take one more journey into the WayBack Machine.

First Listen - Summer of '74

In 1974, Elton John was my musical hero.  My music listening habits to that point had been honed by a steady diet of AM Top 40 Radio, which at the time was exhilarating and exasperating in equal measure.  At any given moment, you could hear one of the greatest songs ever written, followed by a song that made you feel embarrassed for everyone involved in its creation.  

Elton was a hit machine in those days, and that May his 1972 album Honky Chateau was the first album that I bought with my own money.  Goodbye Yellow Brick Road had been released the previous fall, and of course I'd heard the hits (the title track, and almost 50 years later I'm still pissed that the execrable "Top of the World" kept it from hitting #1; and the still amazing "Bennie and the Jets," which did hit #1), but I'd always loved "Rocket Man," and being a single album it was less expensive.

I remember exactly when I heard GYBR for the first time in its entirety - it was at Jeff Bickford's 14th birthday party, about a week after 8th Grade promotion.  I even remember everyone who was at the party - Craig Kreeger, Thomas Schroeder, and the late Mike Gowen on the male side; and Karen Koch, Laura O'Donnell, Alisa Craft, Lori Asbury, and Ellen [last name escapes me] on the female side.  It was the first party I'd ever been to where both boys and girls were invited.  And yes, we played Spin the Bottle; I was pretty good at the bottle spinning part of the game.  When Jeff B. put the album on the stereo, I can even remember saying, upon the first notes of "Funeral For a Friend," something along the lines of "wow, this sounds like something you'd hear at a funeral."  Smart kid, my 14-year old self was.

I knew right away that I had to get the album, right away.  Probably mowed a few additional lawns that week to pay for it.  And I loved it.  I still love it but concede that, as with all Elton albums from that golden period, there are a handful of tracks that are...let's just say dispensable.

With all that background history out of the way, let's dive in.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (Aydlette version)

I would encourage everyone to read Larry's great write-up on his Substack.  But for those without the time, here is his version:

Bennie and the Jets

Grey Seal

Jamaica Jerk-Off

The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-34)

All the Girls Love Alice

Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock 'N Roll)

Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting

Roy Rogers

Social Disease

Candle in the Wind

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Harmony

Total Time: 48 minutes

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (Vaca version)

My approach was a bit different than Larry's.  What he appears to have done is to pare the original album down to roughly standard CD length.  I decided to pare it down even further, with the goal of ending up with a 40-minute album, while being mindful of having two sides of roughly the same length.  Having created mixtapes, "mix-CDs," and now Playlists for more than four decades now, pacing and flow are important to me.  You can have two great songs that don't necessarily sound good back-to-back.  So every transition was tested, and I think it works.  Lastly, I tried to cast off and anchor each side (i.e. first and last cuts) with very strong songs.

Here we go:

Side One

Bennie and the Jets.  Larry had more or less announced from the get-go that this was going to be his opening track, and at first I was determined not to use it.  But there really is no other choice.  As Todd Rundgren wrote in his liner notes for Something/Anything, he put "I Saw the Light" first because it was the obvious hit.  So he did exactly what Motown used to do on their albums, which was to put the hit first.  That is very much the case here.  No question that it's an oddball song, but it's also an all-time classic.  And yes, much like Larry, I and my friends would frequently make "electric boobs" jokes.  As an aside, one of my aforementioned friends was convinced that drummer Nigel Olsson was a woman, and I was sure to remind him of that at one of our high school reunions.  I can be nasty that way.

Harmony.  A little bit of a down-shift after the opening track.  Both Elton and Larry used this as the album closer, but I like it here.  

Roy Rogers.  This may be the best ear-worm on the entire album.  I've lost track of the times that apropos of nothing, it suddenly appeared in my brain, which naturally means that it has to be sung out loud.  I'd love to hear a version of this by Jason Isbell, with Amanda Shires singing harmony.  If anyone out there knows Jason, please let him know.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.  Admittedly, this is an odd place for the title track, but as Larry noted, it's got to be on the album somewhere.  I do like the song, but I'm not sure I'd classify it as top-tier Elton.  My parents liked it when it was on heavy radio rotation, which was a good thing because my dad had a quick trigger-finger on the car radio if a song came on that he didn't like.  Trust me, there were many songs falling into that category.

All the Girls Love Alice.  So let's end Side One with a banger, which I promise is not something I'd ever say in real conversation.  In his piece, Larry does an excellent job of laying out the problematic nature of the lyrics.  He wonders aloud whether Bernie Taupin may have been "trying to depict the horror of self-absorbed, monied-class abusers," but I have to wonder whether that could have been done just as effectively (not to mention more accurately) in a song called "All the Rich Men Love Alice."  But there's no denying the musical chops of the song, and as Larry also notes, at least it's not as bad as "Dirty Little Girl."

While we're on the topic, the misogynist nature of much of 70s rock is something that I think about fairly often.  Once Elton cooled off (which is putting it mildly) in 1976 with the horrible Blue Moves, the band that moved into the slot of being my favorite rock artist was the Stones.  Let's face it, and it is all well documented, the Stones during their tours of 1969, 1972, 1975 and 1978 engaged in a lot of very bad behavior, including towards women.  I admit it, it all sounded pretty cool to my 15-17 year old self.  One of my favorite rock books is "On the Road With the Rolling Stones" by the late Chet Flippo, who covered the '75 and '78 Stones tours for Rolling Stone magazine.  It's all in there, and when I read it now, I  cringe from time to time.  But Exile on Main St. is still my favorite album, and Some Girls is one of the Stones' very best (if you're not familiar with the song, read the lyrics of the title track sometime). Should I feel guilty about that?  Honestly I don't, but it is something that I think about.

Side Two

Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting.  This may be Elton's finest rocker.  I'm not really sure there's anything else to say.  It's the perfect song to lead off Side Two.

The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-34).  Fully agree with Larry on this one - this is one of Elton's best songs, and some of Bernie's best lyrics.  It's also a great showcase for Elton's piano playing, and for once Gus Dudgeon's production is perfect, and not overwrought.  Nor really a "rocker" per se, but it keeps the momentum going from the previous track.

Jamaica Jerk-Off.  I hated this song for a really long time.  And it's still dumb.  But it is very catchy, and fits in with the flow of Side Two.

Grey Seal.  Another great showcase for Elton at the keyboards, and a chance for the entire band to shine.  Davey, Dee and Nigel would come and go on a number of occasions during the course of Elton's career, but they really were a great band.  

Candle in the Wind.  After this many years of being overplayed, and especially after the post-Diana tragedy rewrite, everyone must have an opinion about this song.  In that regard, it's got to be right up there with songs like "Stairway to Heaven" and "Free Bird."  For me, this is essential Elton.  It's a beautiful song, and it's the perfect song to close out the album.

Total Time: 40:49

So there you have it.  I was sorry to have to leave "I've Seen That Movie Too" off the album, because I do think it's one of Elton's best ballads.  I'd like to think that this version of the album would have gotten at least an A- from Christgau.  

Future Choices?

Will Larry and I turn this into a regular gig?  Only time will tell.  In his piece he mentions The Beatles (White Album) as a possible candidate, and there are several others that come to my mind:

Bruce Springsteen - The River

Led Zeppelin - Physical Graffiti

Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life

Fleetwood Mac - Tusk

Prince - Sign 'O the Times

Todd Rundgren - Something/Anything

The Clash - Sandintista! (OK, that's a triple album, but certainly one that could use some trimming)

Stay tuned! 

Top Albums and Songs of 2022

A couple of years ago, I was accepted into a Facebook Group called “Village Voice Pazz & Jop Rip-Off Poll,” which for someone like me – a guy who dreamed at age 15 of becoming the record reviews editor of Rolling Stone magazine – was like a dream come true.  For the uninitiated, Pazz & Jop was begun by Robert Christgau in 1971, took a couple of years off, and then ran in the Voice annually from 1974 through the late 2010s, whenever it was that the once-great periodical finally bit the dust for good.  An indispensable archive of poll results can be found on Christgau’s website.

The way that P&J worked, each participant had 100 points to distribute to 10 albums, with a maximum per-album allocation of 30 and a minimum of five.  During the time that Greil Marcus participated in the poll , he was always open about the fact that he’d award 30 points to an album (for example, Bryan Ferry’s 1978 The Bride Stripped Bare) just to give it a boost in the final rankings.  Others took the “10 albums, 10 points each” approach, and a third group would painstakingly attempt to assign the exactly appropriate number of points to each of the albums on their list.  People who know me well will not be surprised to hear that I fall into the third group.

This year was really hard.  In 2021, I had difficulty coming up with 10 albums that truly fit the definition of what I would normally call a Top Ten candidate, but this year there were probably two dozen albums that fit the bill.  Complicating matters, SZA had to go and release one of the year’s best records A WEEK AGO, which required some additional thought on my part.  But without further ado, presenting my Top Ten Albums of 2022:

Beyoncé, RENAISSANCE – 20 points

Mountain Goats, Bleed Out – 17

Amanda Shires, Take It Like a Man – 12

Lizzo, Special – 11

SZA, SOS – 10

Wet Leg, S/T – 8

Drive-By Truckers, Welcome to Club XIII – 7

Kendrick Lamar, Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers – 5

Miranda Lambert, Palomino – 5

The Paranoid Style, For Executive Meeting – 5

Random thoughts on the Top Ten:

·         From the very first time I listened to the new Beyoncé, I suspected that it would be my #1 – but I didn’t realize how close an album would come to pushing it out of the top spot, which Bleed Out nearly did.

·         Mountain Goats, like Drive-By Truckers before them, is a band to which I’m a late convert, but now I realize that I’ve really given them short shrift over the years.

·         Amanda Shires has been great for a while, but she really took a quantum leap forward on the new album.

·         It is nearly impossible to resist the overall positivity of the Lizzo experience, and in doing so one can have a few laughs along the way.

·         Wet Leg and The Paranoid Style both made me feel like I was back in Cheney Hall at UC Berkeley (Spoiler Alert: it was a long time ago).

·         Miranda Lambert continued the groundbreaking (and I’d argue under-noticed) work she’s been doing for well more than a decade now.

·         DBT had scored in recent years with a series of acutely political albums, and it was a bit of a relief to hear them take the foot off that gas pedal for a bit.

·         And, last but certainly not least – I don’t know I’ve spoken to or read anyone who thinks Mr. Morale is Kendrick Lamar’s best album, but the highs are incredibly high (see below for evidence of that).

The next ten, which in another year might have easily cracked my Top Ten:

Willie Nelson – A Beautiful Time

Bruce Springsteen – Only the Strong Survive

Maren Morris – Humble Quest

Beach Bunny – Emotional Creature

Taylor Swift – Midnights

Danielle Ponder – Some of Us Are Brave

Laura Benitez and the Heartache – California Centuries

Soccer Mommy – Sometimes Forever

Arcade Fire – WE

Sunny Sweeney – Married Alone

And some honorable mentions, in no particular order:

Big Thief – Dragon New Warm Mountain

The Black Keys – Dropout Boogie

Harry Styles – Harry’s House

Jack White – Entering Heaven Alive

Dylan Triplett – Who is He?

The Vandoliers – S/T

Loudon Wainwright III – Lifetime Achievement

Chris Canterbury – Quaalude Lullabies

Courtney Marie Andrews – Loose Future

Ashley MacBryde Presents: Lindeville

Plains – I Walked With You a Way

Carly Rae Jepsen – The Loneliest Time

Angel Olsen – Big Time

Chris Isaak – Everybody Knows It’s Christmas

 

Since I’m on a roll, my Top Ten Songs of 2022:

Kendrick Lamar (feat. Beth Gibbons) – Mother I Sober.  Triumphant transformation.

Taylor Swift – Anti-Hero.  The earworm and catch phrases of the year.

Lizzo – About Damn Time.  Out on the dance floor – now!

Wet Leg – Chaise Longue.  “Would you like us to assign someone to worry your mother?” was the line of the year.

Laura Benitez and the California Heartache – Plaid Shirt.  Just your everyday instant classic country breakup song.

Beyoncé – Virgo’s Groove.  NSFW, and I learned that the hard way.

Drive-By Truckers – The Driver.  In seven minutes, a distillation of everything they do best.

Bruce Springsteen – Night Shift.  How had I forgotten what a great song this is?

Angel Olsen – All the Good Times.  Dusty Springfield, meet Tammy Wynette.

SZA – Blind.  Also NSFW, but quite likely the best verbal interplay of the year.

 

And what the heck, since I never got around to posting it this year, here’s my Top Ten of 2021:

1. James McMurtry, The Horses and the Hounds

2. Liz Phair, Soberish

3. Alison Krauss & Robert Plant, Raise the Roof

4. Aimee Mann, Queens of the Summer Hotel

5. Lana Del Rey, Blue Banisters

6. Sleater-Kinney, Path of Wellness

7. Courtney Barnett, Things Take Time, Take Time

8. Hayes Carll, You Get It All

9. Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit, Georgia Blue

10. Mickey Guyton, Remember Her Name

Rock on!  See you in 2023.