166. The Grateful Dead - Live/Dead (November 1969)

1. Dark Star*

2. St. Stephen*

3. The Eleven

4. Turn On Your Love Light*

5. Death Don't Have No Mercy

6. Feedback

7. And We Bid You Goodnight

***1/2

Something which has never occurred since time immemorial; an acid rock band released a double album of extended jams that you could actually make it through sober. 

The Grateful Dead are a pretty easy target. People who grew up on three minute pop or hard, fast punk and hip hop may not have a great deal of time for a twenty minute jam with lyrics about stars crashing and mirrors exploding. But this is a very solid album. True, it's not entirely my thing, but I enjoyed American Beauty and I enjoy this album. Not to the extent that I particularly want to listen to the whole thing through very often, but it has a lot of merit. The Grateful Dead had a genuinely new approach to music - they didn't swipe from a bunch of genres to create a "new" sound, they twisted and warped a myriad of influences and then let them develop and expand on stage. Also they did drugs. So many drugs.

The thing that makes this album work is the sequencing. "Dark Star", the longest song, starts as a gradual mish mash of the different instruments as the musicians find their feet, and slowly coalesces into a very pretty and complicated piece of music. But I don't think most people would want a whole album of that sort of thing, and that appears to include the Grateful Dead - the next song, "St. Stephen", is an up-tempo rocker with surreal, humorous lyrics. And this continues through the ferocious workout "The Eleven", and the extremely fun extended R&B number "Turn On Your Love Light" (probably the most "normal" song here), which features exhortations to the audience and call and response vocals, and which has relatively comprehensible lyrics about love. 

After that, things cool down with the dark blues of "Death Don't Have No Mercy", then slide into the only moderately successful "Feedback". "Feedback" is probably the easiest target on an album full of easy targets, but that may just be because, post Sonic Youth, the idea of using guitar feedback as an instrument in itself can seem a little quaint. But while it takes a while to get going, by the end Jerry Garcia is coaxing a very strange and pretty melody out of his amp, creating a soundscape quite unique for its time.

The really good thing about this album is that it works so well as a live document. IIRC it was originally sequenced to be played on an auto-changer, and listening to it through one does get the sense that one is enjoying a top-notch concert performance by a bunch of extremely talented musicians. That live experience is a huge part of the album's charm, which is kind of funny when you consider that such a cohesive album was actually patched together from recordings of various different shows. I rarely go to concerts these days, but I used to go quite a lot, and Live/Dead perfectly captures the feel of being at a concert even if that causes it to suffer slightly as a album (IMO it would have made more sense to drop "Feedback" and close with a show-stopper). 

So I doubt I'll be throwing on a tie-dye t-shirt and declaring myself a Dead Head any time soon, but this is a very good album and a very important document of a band who obviously cast a very long shadow. Applying the improvisational methods of jazz to something so overtly rock, and doing  so successfully, is one hell of an achievement. But based on my experiences with the band, I think American Beauty is where I'd recommend neophytes start. 

165. Isaac Hayes - Hot Buttered Soul (June 1969)

1. Walk On By

2. Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic

3. One Woman

4. By the Time I Get to Phoenix

****1/2

I was kind of dreading this album. There are a few reasons for this. One is that funky, string-drenched make out music has kind of a bad rap these days, and I can't pretend I'm not effected by popular opinion. Another, more personal, reason is that the Dionne Warwick version of "Walk On By" is one of my absolute favourite songs. Like, if they stranded me on a desert island with an old 500 mb iRiver I would have that song on it. It's a masterpiece of construction - concise, complex and perfectly played, with one of the greatest singers of all time delivering one of the greatest lyrics of all time. So the existence of a twelve minute make out music version by the guy who played Chef in South Park concerned me. 

Of course, I needn't have worried. Isaac Hayes wrote the theme from Shaft, for God's sake. He knows what he's doing. His version of "Walk On By" is a classic from the moment it starts. From the immortal string part that opens it, through the stinging guitars and complex Hammond organ parts, it carries over the Bar-Kays' rock solid rhythm section to a devastating climax that basically bludgeons you with soul awesomeness for several minutes. And of course Isaac Hayes' vocals are an easy target, but that's just because his deep, declamatory and ultra sexy approach came to define a genre, and so what must have been astounding and revolutionary 55 years ago might seem a little cliché now. Just get yourself in the right headspace, and you'll appreciate what a brilliant song this is. I mean, Portishead built a career out of ripping it off. And like Dummy, you could put it on at a dinner party, cry to it post break-up, or, of course, fuck to it.

The fucking part is heightened by the way the song slams into the Meters-esque funk epic "Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic" (thank heavens for copy and paste). Where the preceding track is loose and ambiguous and multi-purpose, this is a straight-up sexy work out and totally awesome. I can only assume the plan for side one of this album was to put it on, get your desired to appreciate what a sensitive, deep and soulful character you are, and then proceed to screw their brains out. And fair enough. People have made worse albums for far worse reasons. Anyway, side one of this album kicks arse.

Side two also kicks arse, but in a different way. "One Woman" isn't a bad song, but it's a merely good song amongst three brilliant ones. It's pretty and soulful but largely moves away from the make out style of side one. It's also relatively short. Still, it provides an effective segue into what might be the best song on the album, the truly heart-breaking "By the Time I Get to Phoenix". Now, I have never heard the original, so don't ask me to compare and contrast. But the approach of this song is some next level shit. Over a two-note bass groove and a subtle organ vamp, Hayes spends nine or ten minutes laying out the back story for the song, a deeply relatable story about a man who falls for exactly the wrong kind of woman. Credit to Hayes, he manages to be chiding without ever veering into misogyny. A poor guy falls head over heels for a philandering gold digger, works his arse off to give her everything she wants, and (as Hayes says), she mistakes love and kindness for foolishness and weakness. The guy tries and tries to leave, finally manages to break away, and then the actual song kicks in. It's incredible. If I ever have kids, no matter what sex or gender they are I'm making them listen to this song the minute they hit puberty. Of course, I also plan (in the unlikely event I do have children) to make them watch Requiem for a Dream. So I don't know, maybe don't take my parenting advice. 

The sound of this album is a brilliant consolidation of all the different trends in soul and pop over the past ten years, reworked and given room to breathe by extending the songs to near-absurd lengths, There's an almost classical complexity to some of the music, but it remains earthy and soulful throughout. It's classy as fuck, but also fucking funky. It's one of those albums that cast a long shadow over the decade to come. And just look at that cover! The title may be terrible considering the music contained within, but Hayes looks like the coolest motherfucker on the planet. It's not really surprising that between this and the Shaft sountrack, Hayes would wind-up elevated from behind-the-scenes to pop superstardom in the course on a couple of years. Let's just overlook the whole Scientology thing, and that unfortunate episode of South Park about screwing underage boys. If you take this music for what it is, this is easily one of the coolest and sexiest albums I've ever heard. 

164. The Youngbloods - Elephant Mountain (April 1969)

1. Darkness, Darkness*

2. Smug

3. On Sir Francis Drake

4. Sunlight*

5. Double Sunlight

6. Beautiful*

7. Turn It Over

8. Rain Song (Don't Let the Rain Bring You Down)

9. Trillium

10. Quicksand

11. Black Mountain Breakdown

12. Sham

13. Ride the Wind

***1/2

Some albums blow you away with their daring arrangements and unexpected turns. Others just present a sort of inarguably quality throughout. Elephant Mountain is definitely one of the latter sorts. Opener "Darkness, Darkness" is both a brilliant song and highly misleading - its inky balladry is completely at odds with the subtle, sunshine infused R&B of the rest of the album. It's a dark, strange, beautiful song, but it really stands at odds with gorgeous numbers like "Sunlight" and "Beautiful".

This is an incredibly tasteful, well played and recorded album. There's barely a note out of place. Sometimes this can be a little disappointing, as The Youngbloods never really tear loose. But there's a place for subtle, impeccably played pop music, and if you're in the mood for that sort of thing I can definitely recommend Elephant Mountain. It's the perfect soundtrack to a summer's day (something I can vouch for - it is midsummer here and I've been relaxing on my day off with a few drinks). Although West Coast in sound, the Youngbloods hailed from New York and did the hard yards in Canada, and the result is sunshine pop with a harder, slightly artier edge. The rhythm section (especially the bass) is deep and rock solid. The guitar work is usually tasteful but engages in a few flights of fancy. And throughout you have some beautiful electric piano playing. Now, I may be in the minority with this, but I absolutely love the electric piano. And Lowell Levinger knows exactly what he's doing. 

Even though it's mostly ultra-tight soul-rock crossover music, there are also a few interesting jazz rock explorations (the multi-part "On Sir Francis Drake" is a good example). So you get a lot of variety, which is nice. I guess this is folk rock, but it tends far close to rock than folk, and successfully incorporates a lot of looser jazz elements into the music. Not just in the piano and organ accompaniments, but in the subtle and shifting way the group approach harmonics. This is some classy shit.

Anyway, it's not the greatest album in the world, but if you want smooth rock and R&B done right, this is definitely worth checking out. 

163. The Fairport Convention - Unhalfbricking (July 1969)

1. Genesis Hall

2. Si Tu Dois Partir

3. Autopsy*

4. A Sailor's Life*

5. Cajun Woman

6. Who Knows Where the Time Goes?*

7. Percy's Song

8. Million Dollar Bash

****1/2

And so we come to one of my very favourite bands. It's nice to encounter new music, but it's also nice to be able to settle in with an old favourite. Unhalfbricking is in many ways Fairport's high point. Their first two albums were pretty solid, and Liege & Lief has a couple of incredible songs in "Tam Lin" and "Matty Groves", but Unhalfbricking is just such a pretty, likeable, and diverse album. Unhalfbricking sees the band synthesising their West Coast American influences with traditional British folk fare, and the result is music that manages to sound new and vital while also drawing on a diverse range of traditional influences. There are a few zydeco-influenced numbers, and some excellent Bob Dylan covers. But there's also the epic sprawl of "A Sailor's Life", a song that rewrote the rules for what folk rock could be. There's the jazz-inflected, time signature-hopping "Autopsy", a beautiful and heart-breaking song about trying to break free from a cycle of self destructive depression and introspection. And there's the gorgeous "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?", possibly vocalist par excellence Sandy Denny's finest hour as both a singer and a songwriter. 

And really, it's hard to overstate just how good Denny is. Along with the superb Richard Thompson on guitar, she's really responsible for Fairport's classic sound. It's unfortunate that she'd spend the Seventies sliding into coke addiction and ultimately die of a brain haemorrhage after a drunken fall down a flight of stairs. There's a reason she's the only singer Led Zeppelin ever let guest on one of their songs. Her voice can be smooth as silk or (as on "Percy's Song") as strident and forceful as the wind. Add to that that she managed to write something as beautiful and affecting as "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?", and she's really everything you could want in a folk singer.

I won't go on for long about Unhalfbricking, because I really couldn't be bothered, but if you like folk rock, or even just rock in general, this is an essential album. Richard Thompson's jaw dropping guitar work and Sandy Denny's beautiful voice are worth the price of admission alone. It's a bit sad really. Here on Unhalfbricking, they present themselves as a bunch of nice young folks who might enjoy the odd smoke or drink but are really more interested in making beautiful music. They are, really, kind of a rock band for squares, but they have appeal beyond cardigan-wearing chicken farmers because they have a passion and a talent for music that elevates their music and because they really did have a new and exciting approach to not just rock, but music in general. Unhalfbricking lets you see every side of that band - everything from epic folk workouts to simple pop songs. The Fairport Convention were really something special. 

162. Chicago - Chicago Transit Authority (April 1969)

1. Introduction

2. Does Anyone Really Know What Time It Is?*

3. Beginnings*

4. Questions 67 & 68*

5. Listen

6. Poem 58

7. Free Form Guitar

8. South California Purples

9. I'm A Man

10. Prologue, August 29, 1968

11. Someday (August 29, 1968)

12. Liberation

***1/5

If you're like me, you only really know Chicago from their song "If You Leave Me Now", which was mockingly reworked by Lemon Jelly and used as Butters' unofficial theme song in South Park. And fair enough - Chicago are I guess one of those bands that were huge at the time but have been largely forgotten by modern rock fans. This is a bit unfortunate, because as it turns out they're actually pretty great. As with most double albums, Chicago Transit Authority goes on far too long and doesn't have quite enough ideas to sustain its length, but this is still a pretty great album. In many ways, it's the album Blood, Sweat & Tears thought they were making - a clever mix of jazz, R&B, soul and hard rock that has had genuine thought put into it and is being performed by ferociously talented musicians. The result is an album that starts as proggy awesomeness, transitions through soul, jazz and psychedelia, and ends with a fourteen minute wah-wah guitar freak-out worthy of Jimi Hendrix. It's kind of awesome, and unlike most double albums you can actually listen to it all the way through without getting bored. 

A lot of the success of this album can be attributed to the band's attitude. They were all shit hot players, but rather than produce a bunch of techy nonsense they wanted to make an album of clever, innovative good time music. This means that they treat their audience with respect, and understand that most people listen to music to feel better about things and relax a bit. So this is an album you could put on at a party, or listen to by yourself while knocking back a few drinks (which is what I did). The songs are all very well done in the way they mix big band jazz with rock music (it sounds like a terrible idea but works really well), and they're all very cleverly structured so that ideas flow naturally rather than just having the songs lurch between genres. "Introduction" is a borderline prog workout, but the lyrics are just the singer exhorting people to have a good time while the band try and search for a new kind of music (impressively, they largely succeed). Then you have the classic "Does Anyone Really Know What Time It Is?", which starts with a free jazz piano exploration and then shifts into a pop song so glorious it's like sunshine in a jar. 

The back end of the album contains looser, less carefully structured songs presumably more reflective of the band's live sets. "Freeform Guitar" is just guitarist Terry Kath improvising on his guitar, but it's actually pretty great and kind of a precursor to noise rock. That contrast between a harder, more exploratory form of rock and lighter pop sensibilities is part of what makes this album work so well. Chicago were obviously very well educated musically, and had pretty wide-ranging tastes, but they also understood how to craft songs that someone who wasn't on drugs might want to listen voluntarily. That sounds like an obvious thing to be but trust me - I have listened to 162 albums for this project and it is a lesson many, many artists have failed to learn. 

You could criticise this album for being a precursor to Seventies soft rock, but I actually don't mind that sort of music too much. Yes, Chicago probably led to REO Speedwagon, but on the other hand "Roll With The Changes" kicks arse. So this is a bold, ambitious, and incredibly fun album of highly innovative music, and I was glad to encounter it. If not for this project, I doubt I would ever have given Chicago the time of day. But Chicago Transit Authority is well worth a listen. 

161. Tim Buckley - Happy Sad (April 1969)

1. Strange Feeling*

2. Buzzin' Fly*

3. Love from Room 109 at the Islander (On Pacific Coast Highway)

4. Dream Letter

5. Gypsy Woman*

6. Sing a Song for You

***

I didn't much care for the previous Tim Buckley album we had on this list. I felt like he was searching for something and hadn't quite found it, and his lyrics were generally fucking terrible. Here, however, Buckley stretches out and relaxes, his voice is in fine form and more used as an instrument than a delivery mechanism for pseudo-intellectual balderdash, and there are jazz elements that are beautifully incorporated into his mellow brand of folk rock. 

That said, I can't really call myself a Tim Buckley fan. I think the problem is that this is basically make out music for depressed heroin addicts, and the closest I can come to that state of mind is lying on my couch drunk at one in the morning. But I mostly listen to these albums during the day, more or less sober, and so I'm not really adequately attuned. 

That said, there's a lot to like here. The lyrics are secondary to the music, and as an exercise in sustained mood Happy Sad is pretty great. It's the sort of album that's great to have on in the background when you want to listen to something but don't at the same time. There's much more emphasis on the music, and the feel of the music, than there is on anything else. Buckley's voice is, here at least, pretty incredible - a soulful moan with an incredible range. I just wish there were more actual songs. I like the idea of highly experimental jazz-folk easy listening on paper, but when a guy is capable of writing something as charming as "Buzzin' Fly" I can't help but wish he'd hew a little closer to pop music, or at least something that is recognisably a song.

So I doubt I'll be joining the cult of Buckley, but this is a nice listen, even if it occasionally pissed me off. I have high hopes for Starsailor, which is generally regarded as his magnum opus. 

160. Sly and the Family Stone - Stand! )April 1969)

1. Stand!*

2. Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey

3. I Want to Take You Higher

4. Somebody's Watching You

5. Sing a Simple Song*

6. Everyday People*

7. Sex Machine

8. You Can Make It If You Try

****

Some albums piss me off because they're terrible and annoying. Stand! pissed me off because it's six great songs and two of the biggest wastes of time I've ever been subjected to. You have here amazing stuff like "Sing a Simple Song" and "Everyday People", and then you have complete bullshit like "Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey" and the thirteen minutes of aimless crap that is "Sex Machine". And fair enough - "Sex Machine" is repetitive and funky and exactly long enough to have a reasonably rewarding conjugal engagement to, but it's also fucking annoying. "Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey" is a far worse offender - not only is it cheaply provocative sophomoric claptrap, but its refrain will bury itself in your head so that you'll spend the next few days after hearing it with unpleasant racial slurs running through your mind. And that vocal wah-wah crap is just terrible.

If you can get past those two profoundly mediocre songs, then Stand! is an absolutely incredible album. The mix of styles is in and of itself political, as much about integration and coming together as the mixed race nature of the band. "Stand!" itself isn't a great song, but then the coda kicks in and it's one of the most glorious gospel-funk-whatever grooves you'll ever hear. "Everyday People" is almost tear inducing in its earnest plea for racial harmony. "Sing a Simple Song" swipes from James Brown and the Meters to create one of the funkiest songs ever recorded. And even if I hate "Sex Machine", I can't deny the obvious influence it exerted on Miles Davis' far more successful forays into long form funk rock jamming. 

The mix of styles here has echoed down through popular music for decades. The experiments aren't always successful, but Stand! represents a watershed moment in popular music. It's kind of sad, really - in a lot of ways the story of the band is the story of the 1960s. They went from this glorious, optimistic band to Sly Stone alone in his bed crooning coked-out nonsense over drum machines. With the benefit of hindsight it's obvious that the 60s dream was never going to work, if only because everyone had a different idea of what they wanted and you had everyone working at crossed purposes. Stand! is as much a testament to the power and conviction behind that dream as There's a Riot Going On is a bleak portrait of just how badly everything went wrong. Given the state of the world at time of writing, Stand! was a welcome reminder of what we're still, all these years later, working towards.