The Who: Live At Leeds

Live At Leeds

Best song: My Generation

Worst song: A Quick One While He’s Away (introduction too long, and while it’s a career landmark it didn’t need to be played live)

Overall grade: 5 / 6 / low 6 (original LP / 1995 reissue / 2001 deluxe)

It’s impossible to write about Live At Leeds without acknowledging its status of being generally considered “the best live album of all time”, a reputation I was well aware of before I even heard it for the first time. And after I had actually heard it, my first reaction was ‘Wow, that’s a bit short, isn’t it?’ And with regards to the original LP (I’ll discuss other versions too, though) that’s certainly stuck with me. Live albums are great for two reasons: they show a side of a band that’s not present on their studio recordings, and they recreate the experience of going to a concert. The original Live At Leeds scores excellently on the first point: this is The Who as you’ve never seen them before, fuelled purely by adrenaline, climbing higher and higher and attempting to embody the very definition of rock’n’roll. But as far as the second point goes, concerts are generally longer than 36 minutes, and so this version kind of seems like a teaser trailer for something much bigger. Although unlike a movie’s teaser trailer, it doesn’t even include the best bits.

Also unlike a movie’s teaser trailer, the definitive version wasn’t released until a full 25 years later. And the extended edition/director’s cut wasn’t released for another six years after that. Consequently, there are three different versions of Live At Leeds (there’s actually more, but they include Live At Hull and I’m not even going to go there) – so which one of these, if any, deserves this honour of being the world’s greatest live album?

Point one: ‘My Generation’.  This song appears on every version and is also the best song on every version – in the 1970 LP it takes up over a third of the record, so that’s a point in its favour. It’d be easy to love the original studio version of this song and hate this one, or vice versa, but I see the appeal in both: the original was a triumph of proto-punk that succeeded in its brevity, while here the band stretch out a little more and engage in a customary-for-the-time jam session that’s cool because it’s not at all random, it includes excerpts from a bunch of other songs.

Point two: covers. The Who used to play a lot of cover songs live, and three are included on the original version, with a fourth on the extended. They’re mostly R’n’B songs from the 50s and early 60s that the band have sped up and given a harder edge to, and in actual fact, my favourite is ‘Fortune Teller’, and I can’t understand why it was left off the original. It may have been covered by a huge number of bands, but this is by far and away my favourite version. One point to the reissue.

Point four: ‘Tommy’. 2001’s deluxe edition is the only one to include a live performance of almost the entire rock opera, shortened only slightly, and although I’m hardly the biggest fan of the original, but performed on stage it comes into its own, giving life to the most aimless songs. Townshend, who at times in his career has tried to be too calculating and mathematical in his songwriting, is thinking less here about the story of a pinball-obsessed deaf, dumb and blind boy and more about his own exciting and ferocious guitar work. One point to the 2001 expanded edition for creating something great out of something very patchy (although the live version lacks diversity compared to the studio.)

Point four: all other songs. ‘Substitute’ and ‘Magic Bus’ are the only two to appear on all versions – both non-album singles, they’re both very obvious choices which are obviously awesome but don’t leave room for any more underappreciated choices. One of my favourite moments from the 1995 reissue is the opener, Entwhistle’s B-side ‘Heaven And Hell’, featuring a great bassline that really gets the crowd excited for the coming set. ‘Tattoo’, from Sell Out, is another hidden gem in this version, sandwiched between two covers, and shows Keith Moon’s drums basically taking on a life of their own. This extended version allows for a greater variety of songs, and I like the varied lengths and styles they cover, so one point for the reissue.

Point five: timing. The concert was recorded in 1970, after the Who’s first four albums, but before the great trio that were still to come. All songs on all versions come from this concert, meaning they don’t capture the spread of a whole career. No additional points for any version.

Of the three options here, I think it’s safe to say that the LP version is the weakest; its only selling point being that it’s available on vinyl, which to my knowledge the later ones are not. I think the 1995 edition is plenty long enough to satisfy most fans and give the full concert experience, and it’s also more structured than the 2001 version, where some songs are re-ordered so that Tommy can have its own disc. Whether they like Tommy particularly or not, every fan of the band should hear the live version to compare and contrast, but in my mind the single greatest version of Live At Leeds is the 1995 reissue, with the 2001 version playing more like two entirely separate concerts rather than the single entity that a great live album should be.

As to whether it’s the greatest live album of all time, it’s certainly a contender for its raw power (you honestly get the feeling that the band physically couldn’t have stopped playing, even in the face of an explosion or something) and encapsulation of the concertgoing experience, but it fails to capture some other sides of the band, released as it was at a time when their intelligence played less of a part in songwriting. That said, the first two elements were probably lost as the band progressed further. In short, it captures the band at their live peak but not at their musical peak, and so it’s a great album, but I can think of a few better examples from where bands’ peaks in both areas overlapped.

Pink Floyd: A Momentary Lapse of Reason

A Momentary Lapse of Reason

Best song: Sorrow

Worst song: The Dogs of War

Overall grade: 4

[author’s note: finally reached 100 reviews! Much later than I hoped, but I made it.]

I’ve been looking forward to this one for a while. More often than not, I find that people tend to dismiss this album, and I completely understand why. After Roger Waters had left the band, having almost singlehandedly written the past three albums, people must have been justifiably sceptical about David Gilmour’s ability to keep the band going at such a high level. Add to that the ‘80s curse’ that had set in, bestowing mediocrity and commercialism on once-great bands, and by all rights this album has all the makings of something absolutely terrible. But truth is, I find quite a few of the songs here to be excellent.

David Gilmour did not try to be Roger Waters here. When he decided to make a Pink Floyd album instead of a solo album, he writes Gilmour songs with a few Pink Floyd trademarks thrown in. He didn’t go for concept albums and long epics and darkly abstract lyrics, because he knew his strengths didn’t lie in those areas. Instead, he brought in writing partners where it was necessary and wrote relatable classic pop melodies with interesting twists and occasionally the barest hint of experimentalism.

Some people take issue with this album because it’s almost a Gilmour solo album, which is true. Some people take issue because Gilmour wasn’t an original band member, as he replaced Syd Barrett – also true. But as for the idea that it was too different to their previous work? Well, just look at the difference between ‘The Piper at the Gates of Dawn’ and ‘Animals’. Their two best albums in my opinion, but they couldn’t be more different. Change isn’t always bad, it seems.

The very beginning of the album isn’t so great – ‘Signs Of Life’ is actually very enjoyable when you don’t know Pink Floyd very well, but leaves a bitter taste when you realise quite how much of it is recycled from Floyd songs of past. Similarly, ‘The Dogs of War’ re-uses sound effects, including the barking from ‘Dogs’ and the alarm clocks from ‘Time’. Here, Gilmour tries too hard to be aggressive and dissonant. He doesn’t manage to shock or unnerve his fans, just make them grimace as they reach for the ‘Skip’ button.

The best known song from the album is probably ‘Learning to Fly’, which shows Gilmour and company on top melodic form, coming up with all kinds of irritatingly rhythmic hooks and using Gilmour’s recent foray into owning aeroplanes as a metaphor for moving on from the Waters-led band. Some might say that the new band shouldn’t have focused their new songs on this, but I would say that writing about what’s relevant to them will always make a better song. Plus, the songs would have been accused of being about Waters no matter what. Anyway, it’s an arena rock song with a Pink Floyd twist, and the combination shines.

‘One Slip’ follows a similar formula yet manages to be different at the same time. The opening sounds like the beginning to a vintage video game. Phil Manzanera co-writes, bringing a freshness and a hint of 80s Roxy Music to the songwriting, and while lyrics were never one of Gilmour’s strong points, they’re actually pretty good and very honest here, talking about a failed marriage. Lots of percussion and some spacey instrumental sections stop the song from feeling too generic.

Then comes the beautiful and dreamy ballad ‘On The Turning Away’, which in some ways foreshadows Gilmour’s ‘On An Island’ work. His voice is so light that a sudden wind might sweep it away, and it’s a song that shows so much quiet emotion before letting it all flood out in the guitar solo that dominates the second half.

Following these triumphs, ‘Yet Another Movie’ is an unassuming disappointment. It seems like it’s trying to be interesting, maybe even like it should be interesting, but it doesn’t capture my attention anywhere near long enough for its length, the different parts seem to clash with each other somehow, and the solo here is either squealy or boring. Far more exciting is the impossibly short instrumental that it leads right into, ‘Round And Around’, which is minimal, atmospheric and surprisingly intense, and could have led onto something really awesome.

Another instrumental success is ‘Terminal Frost’. Anything that comes between the two dated, barely musical parts of ‘A New Machine’ is sure to be a success in comparison, but ‘Frost’ particularly so. Here, Pink Floyd experiment with jazzy undertones and the wide range of guest musicians on the song make the musicianship of a much higher quality than on the band’s earlier output. Its structure is excellent, often hinting at becoming something huge and fading back down again before really exploding towards the end.

And the true masterpiece is left for last. I was lucky enough to see the Australian Pink Floyd Show play ‘Sorrow’ live on their most recent tour, and whether live or in the studio, it absolutely stands up to the band’s 70s output. It’s dark, heavy and melodic all at the same time and always manages to make a big impression on me. Some great guitar and bass work (Tony Levin contributes) and incredible, intense momentum make this into a thrilling epic that by itself almost elevates the album to a 5-level. I’ve heard people call it filler, but I can’t see how anyone could not enjoy its wonderful progression and diversity, along with the excellent, involved performances from everyone, creating a memorable finish.

Albums like Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall are justifiably massive because they have the ability to blow peoples’ minds and even change their lives. A Momentary Lapse of Reason is never going to do that. But it paved the way for the band’s last great album, seven years later, as well as containing a fair few songs that, even though they may not fulfil Waters’ criteria, definitely fit mine.

Pink Floyd: The Final Cut

The Final Cut

Best song: The Fletcher Memorial Home

Worst song: Southampton Dock

Overall grade: 5

After Roger Waters left Pink Floyd in the early 80s, he took a bit of time off and then released a solo album. Of course, before Roger Waters left Pink Floyd he also took a bit of time off and then released a solo album. It’s really quite a shock the first time you pick up a copy of ‘The Final Cut’, released as a Pink Floyd record, and see the writing on the back: “By Roger Waters, performed by Pink Floyd.”

With Richard Wright firmly out of the band and David Gilmour and Nick Mason out of songwriting ideas, Roger took it upon himself to further his obsession with anti-war propaganda and dedicate an entire album to it. Much of it is poetry set to sparse backing music. Instrumental breaks are a rare commodity, positive messages are nonexistent, and it’s light years away from the fun sound collage at the end of ‘Bike’. But like it or not, for all official purposes, this is as much Pink Floyd as that – and if it seems something of an outlier in its style, it’s more than good enough to deserve the name in my opinion.

The quietest murmur opens ‘The Post War Dream’: ‘Tell me truly, tell me why/was Jesus crucified/was it for this that Daddy died?’ The song sounds like one of the quietest moments off The Wall – especially that ‘hint of accusation’ line, which contains exactly the same vocal inflection he used a few times on that album. The lyrics both set the tone and provide a good opening; Roger commenting on how society has lost the hope for the future it had after the war. This is particularly relevant coming, as it was, mere months after another war, the Falklands War, ended.

‘Your Possible Pasts’ has a chorus, of sorts. It’s a lonely and desperate song, and the chorus is still both of these things, but it’s loud and echoey as well. This contrasting effect is repeated on a few songs and really suits the album, as Roger sadly contemplates his subject matter and then suddenly snaps, his sadness turning to rage. But tellingly, the solo by Dave really adds something – its despondent quality makes us feel like there’s no hope left – showing that Roger works better with someone to play off of him.

‘One Of The Few’ has an incredibly delicate guitar part behind it, which is pretty, but I think it would work even better on piano. Wright’s input is definitely missed in these minimal songs. One of the most fully realised songs is ‘The Gunner’s Dream’. With the interesting piano chords and the great saxophone part, the lyrics don’t dominate quite as much here, and overall this is the song that sounds most like 70s Pink Floyd. And the following ‘Paranoid Eyes’ almost has a melody in its pretty, reminiscing middle section, bringing side one to a heart-wrenching close.

The single greatest moment on the album is undoubtedly ‘The Fletcher Memorial Home’, which proves my vaguely controversial opinion that a song doesn’t have a melody to have hooks – this one gets stuck in my head all the time. Roger’s so passionate on the song. They say you should write about what you believe in, and that’s definitely the case here.

A few of the shorter tracks are nothing more than linking pieces. They fit the concept and when listening to the album as a whole, they work, but they don’t add anything in particular. ‘Southampton Dock’ is probably the best example of this, but ‘The Hero’s Return’ also qualifies.

On the title track, as on quite a few other songs, I’m mostly waiting, anticipating those moments when Roger just loses control and suddenly goes really intense. To me, those moments of catharsis are what make the album really worthwhile. I guess that with Roger completely in charge of songwriting, he can write what best suits his voice, keeping things technically simple but emotionally complex.

I’ve read quite a few reviews of this album, although not for a while, and I can’t remember one that doesn’t take offense at ‘Not Now John’. One of the main complaints is its being completely anomalous with the rest of the album. It’s true, there are guitars pretty constantly throughout and you can hear it without turning the volume up full, but essentially the mood is the same. The female vocals in the background are distorted and creepy and Gilmour’s guitar soloing seems to move round in the mix, creating a sense of confusion, and as for the lyrics, they’re every bit as desperate as everything else on the record. I don’t see it as a failed attempt at a “rocker”, I see it as a successful attempt at a very twisted version of a rocker.

I do think this album works incredibly well as a unit; more so than as individual songs. It’s impossible to tell which songs are Wall outtakes and which are new, everything blends so well together. And while it seems like a daunting prospect, being lectured on the evils of war for forty-three minutes, if anyone can do it while keeping you emotionally involved and without sounding preachy; it’s Roger Waters. And apart from anything else, it’s a great lesson in how to make exactly the music you want without compromising yourself for anyone.

The Clash: The Clash

The Clash  (UK version)

Best song: controversially, Police & Thieves

Worst song: What’s My Name

Overall grade: 5

(again, sorry for the delays. Just one more day of school. I promise.)

You’ve probably heard of the Clash; they’re kind of a big deal. I’d heard of them before I started listening to all the 60s and 70s music that fills up most of my collection today. But just in case you still think I’m talking about the noise made when two cymbals are banged together, brief summary: the Clash were an integral part of the British punk rock movement that happened in 1977, which basically means they were big fans of the idea that anyone can start a band, not such big fans of the government, and quite vocal about both of these things. They were originally formed with the intention to be “a new band that would rival the Sex Pistols” but, of course, they would end up out-lasting the Pistols by quite a few years, as well as securing a reputation based more on the music than the shock factor, which the Pistols can’t claim. That said, I’ve never written a piece of English coursework on the Clash.

Interestingly, although Joe Strummer is by far the most well-known member of the Clash, he was actually the last to join. The band existed for quite some time without a lead singer. It wasn’t until Strummer joined that things really got off the ground, though: he has a writing credit on every song but one on this album, along with Mick Jones.

In the list of great punk debuts, this has to be right up there. It didn’t invent British punk, but  it may have given it its enduring appeal. The Clash proved from day one that they knew what they wanted to say and how they were going to say it, and the songs here are loud and punchy but also very listenable, although they never had the same pop inclinations as the Ramones. So yeah, it is very tempting to get up and headbang to these songs, and that’s definitely a lot of fun, but it’s also good to pay attention to the lyrics once in a while, especially on songs like ‘Career Opportunities’ and ‘Hate & War’, both of which offset their fast, fun beat with a meaningful and well-expressed message.

A lot of these songs do sound fairly similar, but standouts include the ridiculously catchy ‘London’s Burning’ and the angry call to action ‘White Riot’. There’s also ‘Deny’, which I think is really underrated; it doesn’t even have its own Wikipedia page but in actual fact it has the best vocal and guitar interplay on the album as well as the ‘you’re such a liarrr…’ hook. The riff that opens ‘What’s My Name’ is really cool, and always makes me really excited to hear the song, but in actual fact it’s quite repetitive and annoying, in a not dissimilar way to the recent Rihanna song of the same title.

Last song of note is the closer ‘Garageland’. It’s a beautiful sentiment: a lot of fans were worried that by signing to CBS Records, the Clash would forget where they came from and become a sell-out corporate band, and this song was the band’s promise they wouldn’t lose sight of their roots. It’s especially relevant coming at the end of their first highly successful album, and its famous opening line ‘Back in the garage with my bullshit detector’ has united crowds at concert venues worldwide.

The only cover on this version of the album is reggae song ‘Police & Thieves’, and it’s extended from the original for a full six minutes. With hindsight it seems obvious, but at the time it was probably a surprising choice of song to cover, with most bands taking on more straightforward rock songs. The Clash made absolutely the right choice, though: their version is absolutely stunning. I’m generally biased against covers and it’s almost unheard of for me to pick one as best song, but here I can’t find a contender. The band have very much put their own signature on the song and each of them does a great job: Simonon’s bass line perfectly drives things along giving a simple and sparse feel, Strummer’s rough and streetwise vocals suit the subject matter and contrast with the ‘oh yeah!’ heard repeated in the background, Jones plays a clever, interesting guitar solo that breaks the song into two parts and the whole song has an odd spacious feel. It’s got enough time to really explore the controlled-anger buildup that helps make it so successful.

That aside, this is, of course, less diverse than some of the band’s later records, and in some ways they were still growing into their talents. But it’s the sound of a group of really passionate young guys writing unrestrainedly about what they believe in, and that really shows through in the music and makes the album a highly enjoyable listen.

So, I reviewed the UK version. Why? The Clash are from the UK. This version came first, it was written to be an album and it’s the album they wanted to put out. The US version is essentially just a compilation that draws very heavily from this album. That’s not to say it’s not worth a listen, though. I’d probably give it the same grade and it does have ‘I Fought The Law’ on it, which is another totally awesome cover (this band just know how to pick them, they really do.) 

Yes: Drama

Drama

Best song: Tempus Fugit

Worst song: White Car

Overall grade: 5

(author’s note: I’m so sorry I’ve been away for a while! I had to send off my university applications on Wednesday so I was working really hard to get those finished, and then I went to Switzerland for a couple of days, and then I had a pretty disastrous Friday night and felt too ill to do anything Saturday. But I promise to try to catch up a little over the next few weeks.)

‘Tormato’ was widely ridiculed – by the fans, by the music press, and somewhat by me, although I doubt my review had any influence on what happened in 1980. What happened was that both Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman quit the band. Not the first time for Wakeman, who was already making a habit of this leaving and rejoining thing, but certainly the first time for Anderson. His departure shocked fans the world over, but not as much as the announcement of the new members: Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes from the Buggles. Yes, the Buggles, who had one song of any note, and that’s just because it was the first video to be played on MTV, and other than that were completely forgettable.

So, two crucial members gone and two new members who came from a plasticky synth-pop group – this album must be terrible, right? Well, actually no. This album is damn good. Quite a few of the songs had pretty much already been written by Howe, Squire and White, and it feels like with just three of them, they were all putting a lot more effort into the songwriting process.

From the opening bars of ‘Machine Messiah’ it’s pretty clear that Yes don’t really fit into the symphonic rock box anymore. They’ve predated King Crimson by a year in mixing New Wave into a hard-edged prog sound and it’s totally awesome. Howe’s guitar is the highlight for me on this sprawling and messy 10 minute epic, and although Downes is no Wakeman, his part is still plenty complicated enough to keep me interested, and he does some good Moog soloing. And it doesn’t feel too far removed from “classic Yes” so as to be a completely different band, still including a lot of their trademarks, like some great vocal harmonies.

‘White Car’ is basically unnecessary, and at only 1 minute 21 seconds, it doesn’t do anything except fill up 1 minute and 21 seconds of vinyl. I guess Downes and Horn wrote it to be an introduction to ‘Does It Really Happen?’, but that song stands up just fine on its own. I’ve heard people say it sounds like a 90125 song, but I don’t get that. Sure, it’s got the arena-sized sound to it, but it’s so much more unique than anything from that album, more inspired, quirkier. In fact, with the slight funk influence that goes into the riffs, it reminds me more of something like ‘Siberian Khatru’ from earlier.

‘Into the Lens’ is my least favourite actual song, and the one that Downes and Horn had the most influence on (it would appear in an alternate version on a later Buggles album). Specifically, I find Horn’s vocal part kind of ugly, and so it’s the one moment when I really miss Jon Anderson’s presence. The melody is simple and accessible, and comparable to what bands like Asia and Kansas were writing, but classier. It’s very listenable, but too safe in places and I don’t really consider it Yes.

‘Run Through The Light’ again has more of a pop influence, but it still works well because there’s so much going on. Yes always include a ballad, and here, this is the one. If it was a Buggles song, it would probably be sickeningly dull, but as a Yes song the pretty melody and soulful mandolin are counterbalanced by White’s awesome drumming and Howe’s purposeful guitar. Horn plays bass instead of Squire, which I’m not too fond of, but it means we get to hear Squire on electric piano (I wish that was a little more prominent.)

The finishing track is ‘Tempus Fugit’, and what a finish it is! It could easily have been extended a bit (this album’s really short). Squire’s bass is just outstanding, and the title’s apt because the time really does just fly by when you’re listening to it, as it picks you up and runs away with you in a whirl of conflicting instrumentation. It’s heavy and intense and really uplifting at the same time. It’s always moving, and it’s got a lot of interesting parts that you can pay close attention to, or you can just let yourself get swept up in the feel of the song, depending on your mood. I’ve no shame in saying that this is one of my favourite Yes songs.

Part of me thinks that Squire, Howe and White would have worked quite well as a trio, just getting session musicians to play on their songs, as they’re clearly the stronger writers. Still, even the Buggles songs have something going for them, and this album is a necessity for any serious Yes fan.

Oh, Trevor Horn produced this album as well as singing, by the way. He did a good job, which is not surprising considering how hard he worked on it… he spent his wedding night in the studio. And most of his honeymoon. Although he originally planned to spend two weeks in Miami with his new wife, this time ended up getting shorter and shorter as he kept working on the album, until they decided not to bother with Miami and go to Bournemouth instead. For three days. And Steve Howe joined them.

Amazingly, they’re still married.

The Who: By Numbers

The Who By Numbers

Best song: Slip Kid

Worst song: Squeeze Box

Overall grade: 5

From what I understand, the general consensus surrounding this album has worsened over the years. It was originally released to great acclaim (although considering how huge The Who were around the time, people may have just not wanted to rock the boat) but since then most people have expressed a distaste for its more introspective and self-conscious style.

But I heard most of the Who albums before I had any idea what other people thoughts of them. And while, in some cases (see: ‘Face Dances’) I later discovered that my opinion was basically identical to everyone else’s, with ‘By Numbers’ I was quite shocked by all the criticism, because I’d always really liked the album.

Thing is, Pete Townshend had tried three times to make a perfect rock opera, and with ‘Quadrophenia’ he’d basically succeeded. He was hardly going to go back into the studio and make another one, knowing that it could never live up to the standard he’d set himself. Clearly, his only option was to make an album so completely different that people would never compare it to its predecessor.

Yet here I am, comparing them. ‘Quadrophenia’ was a wonderful story, but it’s only here that I feel like I’m getting to know Pete Townshend as a person. ‘Imagine a Man’, ‘However Much I Booze’ and particularly ‘How Many Friends’ are painfully intimate and confessional: ‘How many friends have I really got/That love me, that want me, that'll take me as I am?’ The rest of the band are constantly giving these highly personal compositions the respect they deserve, even when, like on ‘However Much I Booze’, the uptempo music doesn’t seem to quite fit with the mood of the song. But maybe that’s just to give Pete’s vocal performance (one of his best; move over, Daltrey) even more gravity.

It’s not all doom and gloom. Those who call the album ‘Pete Townshend’s suicide note’ obviously have copies that omit side two’s ‘Blue Red & Grey’, a stunning ballad about enjoying all parts of life rather than always waiting for one thing in particular. It doesn’t really have any traditional rock instruments, it’s just ukulele (and a few horns) which again makes it sound different to the rest of the album, but the gentle, quiet instrument is perfect – it puts the focus on the lyrics and complements the simplicity of the message perfectly.

My pick for best track here is the opener ‘Slip Kid’, a great demonstration of Townshend’s talent for combining an infectious melody with a serious message and something a bit unconventional thrown in there too. It really plays out like ‘here’s the same band that made ‘My Generation’, only with 10 years more experience’. It’s very dynamic and guest Nicky Hopkins plays a neat bit of piano, playing off Keith Moon in a great, idiosyncratic way. It has the same feel of a classic that ‘Baba O’Riley’ and ‘Love Reign O’er Me’ do, but, perhaps unfairly, never got the same recognition.

Still, I guess hating on this album is justified if you’re only talking about ‘Squeeze Box’, a song with an incredibly annoying and generic melody that’s far too immature for someone who’s just turned 30. It really disrupts the flow of the album with its cringey, over-sexualised lyrics and the repulsive ‘in and out and in and out’ part. Disappointing, because without this I'd be able to play on one of the album's lyrics and say 'I like every minute of this record'.

Good news to counteract that terrible song is that Entwhistle hasn’t been forgotten. He gets a word in edgeways with side two opener ‘Success Story’, and in true Pink Floyd style, it’s a sarcastic criticism of the music business that shows off his talent and versatility as a musician and contrasts the quieter acoustic numbers on the album with some glam rock and space rock influences. Lastly, final track 'In A Hand Or A Face', while nowhere near as climactic as some closers they've done, is definitely work noting for its distinctive riff and almost gospel-like chorus.

 Personally, I’d be the first to mention this album in a conversation about ‘overlooked gems’ or whatever, and I’d really encourage anyone who’s dismissed it before to have another listen – it’s obvious that it can be easily overshadowed by the massive scale (both commercially and musically) of their previous efforts, but, though it’s making a very different statement, it’s one that’s just as valid – and enjoyable.

Locusts, Roaches & Ants: The WRC Compilation

Locusts, Roaches & Ants: The WRC Compilation

Best song: probably The Drapes, but there’s a handful of greats that are pretty much equal

Worst song: I feel bad doing this on a compilation… but, Fun Festival

Overall grade: 5

I don’t normally review compilations, but I’ll make an exception for this one, because I know (or at least know of) all these artists in another capacity. Specifically, they all are or were members of the Web Reviewing Community, a group of people who all ran music review websites much like this one (but generally better) mostly in the early 2000s. At some point, somebody noticed that as well as writing about music, a lot of these reviewers also liked to make music, and out of that came the bright idea to put some of these songs onto a compilation album and share it with everyone in the community. Thirteen different reviewers got involved, and this is the end product.

Credit where credit’s due: Chris Willie Williams from the Disclaimer Music Review Archive is the guy who put all these songs together and still offers this as a free download if you ask him very nicely, and Steve Knowlton of Steve and Dennis and Abe’s Record Reviews is the guy who did title and cover art.

‘Ritalin Rock’ (The Other Leading Brand) – From the title, I expected this to sound like a pretty straightforward rock song, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s percussion-heavy, which keeps the whole thing feeling focused and driven, and seems to have a purposeful bootleg quality to it. Over the top, there’s a lot of spoken vocal samples which somehow manage to be catchy, repeated and layered on top of each other to create something really compelling.

‘Saskatchewan’ (Steve Knowlton and the Knowl-Tones) – In a prime example of good positioning, this song is a lot more melodic, and chilled vs. the anger of the last one. It’s very pretty, dreamy and nostalgic with some interesting jazz influences and has a cool relaxed guitar solo at the end. I like it, but it’s a bit too consistent in its tempo to reach greatness.

‘Dead in 41’ (Willie Simpson) – This is very folk-rock singer-songwriter, and Simpson has the Dylan-esque voice down to a T. This is the song that most makes me wish the album came with a lyric booklet, since I can’t quite work out all of them, but the ones I can hear sound really good, kind of a World War 2 theme going on there. One of those things you start singing along to, and then you realise you’re singing about shooting a Nazi between the eyes. Great tune.

‘Hell’ (Disclaimer) – this icy, dark, rhythmic, no-nonsense first couple of minutes recalls… but then the chorus swells and is smoother, more content even as it’s talking about going to hell. These two approaches are juxtaposed against each other throughout the song. Oh, and it’s a brilliant song, did I mention? Very skilful songwriting – taking pop and distorting it to give it an edge. I can imagine myself recommending this song to someone who wasn’t familiar with the WRC.

‘Walk Me Home’ (Mike Kozak) – A slowly developing instrumental, but as the longest track on the album at almost seven minutes, it’s able to take its time somewhat. I’m very impressed with the fact that all the instruments are played by one guy, and for the most part it’s very well structured too, with the same symphonic theme carrying us through all the way, coupled with the odd moment of dissonant anarchy that prevent it from becoming too…

‘Gamle Klassiker’ (Joel Larsson and Adam Johansson) – A brief interlude in the overall context of the album, it seems like an odd choice for the pair to include, because it has the feel of a novelty song. I don’t know if that’s in the non-English lyrics or the delivery or the lack of any real instrumentation, but I’m not a huge fan of this.

‘Heterosapiens’ – If you want an example of a successful joke song, look no further. This track manages to successfully parody a bunch of aspects of 70s hard rock by making it all just a tiny bit too ridiculous, and its purpose is obvious here, but the beauty of it is that in a compilation of ‘fantasy rock songs’ it probably wouldn’t stick out as being the one imposter. Right up there with clever parodies and highly enjoyable for anyone who knows a little of music history.

Mark Prindle’s three long-titled songs – Mark Prindle, the sneaky fellow, managed to combine three of his songs into one high energy track that’s no longer than anything else on here. You could actually jog to the fast-paced but steady ‘Jogging Is The Bestest’ and its riffs are really entertaining. ‘A Guy Who Said My Web Site Is Overrated (Why Does Everybody Hate Me So Much?)’ displays some of the classic humour that makes his site so unique, and ‘My Songs Would Be Significantly Less Sucky If I Bothered To Save Up For More Powerful Recording Equipment’ might just be my favourite – my brain can’t even keep up with the tempo it’s played at but it’s just so much fun!

‘The Drapes’ (Daniel Fjall) – a depressing and strangely captivating tale of a pathetic man who’s lost his girlfriend and now sits at home not doing anything with his life. Even the whispered vocals add to this; it’s almost like it’s been so long since he’s sung anything that he’s forgotten how (in a good way) This is one of the songs that feels the most professional and also stays with me the most. People would wave their lighters to this at a concert, at one with the pain and moodiness of the narrator, and I always come away from the song thinking a bit more about life.

‘Fun Festival’ (Poly Lite Plus) – A space-rock style instrumental that doesn’t feel as though it’s really a very fun place to be. I think this could be something if it was worked on, and would probably also be better in the context of an album of similar stuff, but here it feels a bit clunky and random.

‘Tantric New Romantic’ (The Hector Collectors) – Catchy, short but still feels like a full song. This synth-pop song wins by having nothing more than a great hook, lots of random and cute rhymes in its lyrics, and a singer with a great accent. It’s hardly meant to be taken seriously, but I honestly can’t get enough of it, the humour not getting old after quite a few listens.

‘The Open Window’ (Physical Illusion) – Home-made art rock such as this is automatically at a disadvantage compared to other stuff in the genre, considering Nick Karn probably doesn’t have access to the same range of instruments and studio effects as well-established bands, but this doesn’t show here. It might not be my absolute favourite song here, but this mini-epic is definitely the one that most inspires me to get more from the same artist, since it’s great but also hints at so much more.

‘Mercury’s Star’ – I love this as a closer. It’s an unhurried and beautiful ballad that feels very comfortable in its own skin, helped by the fact that it’s probably the best produced song here. I honestly don’t think any other song could effectively follow this one, the guitar is so gorgeous. It ends with a sample of ‘Everybody Hurts’ and another song that I recognise but can’t place. Its skilful summation of this compilation always leaves me wanting more.

Overall, I think it was Chris Willie Williams who said it best of all, in the liner notes: ‘the unqualified love of rock music is evident in each track here’. The songs display a definite knowledge of what works in music and what elements make up a good song, and I think that’s why there aren’t any huge failures here. Maybe the most important skill you need to make music is to know music.

[REQUEST] Cloud Cult: Light Chasers

 Light Chasers

Best song: The Arrival: There’s So Much Energy In Us

Worst song: The Departure: Today We Give Ourselves To The Fire

Overall grade: 5

I’d hazard a guess that Cloud Cult are a band you have not heard of. (Unless you requested this review, of course.) They’re very independent, and it’s completely through choice – although they’ve had some very highly regarded albums and several offers from major record labels, they’ve made the decision to remain out of the spotlight, in order to focus on such things as helping the environment (this is the same reason they never tour outside of the US.)

The album as a whole skips in a carefree way between dream pop, indie rock and something slightly experimental. Legend has it (well, Wikipedia) that some of their previous albums focused more on the experimental aspect, meaning they basically managed to sell out while remaining completely underground – something of an achievement. I believe this is also technically a concept album, but that’s pretty much restricted to the story, as I don’t hear anything in the music that ties any of the songs together, although some of the transitions are well done.

But taken as individuals, a lot of the songs are pretty fantastic. The opening is spacey, ethereal and subtly majestic, bringing to mind a funeral procession for a highly respected public figure. The moment when the drums come in is a bit clumsy and unexpected, but I’m over it by the time the violins join the proceedings and add an orchestral feel.

The vocals are good, if a little unconventional. Maybe this song would have been on the next Neutral Milk Hotel album if they’d stuck around. But my favourite part of this song is the dark, tribal instrumental section that occupies the last minute or so.

So we had a good start, but sadly ‘Today We Give Ourselves To The Fire’ doesn’t match up. The not quite in unison voices are really grating and although I think it’s trying to be inspirational with its rising melodies and hand claps, but I don’t feel inspired at all. It’s an unwelcome distraction between the opener and ‘You’ll Be Bright’, which has a funky hand-drawn music video that you should watch. It’s the prototypical indie rock song, starting with minimal backing and high mixed vocals before transitioning into something harder with more balance between these elements. If you like that kind of thing, this is a good one.

‘You Were Born’ sounds, on first listen, like a  very pretty but not very exciting acoustic song, but reveals itself to be a little different on subsequent listens. For example, the piano is doing some pretty clever fiddly stuff in the background, and the violin solo in the middle turns out to be a winner. It’s nothing like its weird followup ‘The Exploding People’ which is distorted and detached. It feels like I’m running for my life away from… something. Still has a great hook though in ‘one by one the people they explode…’

I LOVE the chaos that rules over the opening to ‘Room Full Of People In My Head’, and some of the lyrics are pretty clever too: ‘Part of me is the hangman looking for a scapegoat’. It becomes less schizophrenic after the initial blow but it’s still notable for being the hardest rocking track (is there such a genre as indie metal?)

‘Running With The Wolves’ could just as easily have been a Soft Bulletin-era Flaming Lips song, and it has that same protective layer of production that wraps up the song and kind of separates it from the outside world. ‘Responsible’ has a lot of weight to it, and seems to be the moment of the story where the main character, whoever he/she is, finally grows up and realises they can’t keep running away from their mistakes, so I guess it’s a transition piece, but musically it doesn’t do anything that can’t be found on the early songs – I much prefer the claustrophobic, enclosed ‘The Guessing Game’.

At the end, highlights include the intimate whisper of ‘Dawn’… forget it. That’s a good song and all, but closer ‘There’s So Much Energy In Us’, which overshadows everything within a three song radius. Here, the pretentious titles and false builds found elsewhere come to a head in the purge of negativity that feels like a ritual song, a call to do good things. And the title line really is sung with an impressive amount of energy. It’s the kind of song that just climbs higher and higher and never seems to stop, reaching up as far as the sun.

So in a sense, there is a path you can follow through this album, but it’s not one of musical themes, it’s one of emotional themes. At the start, things are more relaxed and content, but they pick up the pace into fear and restlessness, and then slowly seem to come round to acceptance and then to something that’s almost like rejoicing. I also don’t think it’s too hard to broadly categorise each track into ‘dream’ or ‘nightmare’, so maybe it’s about the contrast between those two things as well.

I think I might work backwards with this band, just to be contrary. I am interested to hear their earlier stuff and see their raw and experimental side take a turn in the limelight. Hopefully, that won’t cause them to lose their moments of odd beauty that are what attracts me to this record.

Ocean Colour Scene: Moseley Shoals

Moseley Shoals

Best song: Policemen & Pirates

Worst song: You’ve Got It Bad

Overall grade: 5

Ocean Colour Scene were an English band that began in the nineties, and they were too late for Madchester and too rocky for Britpop, which, if you take this album as your focus point, is more than a little unfair. I mean, the group weren’t necessarily full of new musical ideas, but how many new musical ideas WERE there in 1996? Anyway, what these four guys lacked in originality, they made up for in diversity, because there’s a whole range of different influences on this album.  Yes, you have the obvious Beatles and Stones, but there’s also some more unexpected bands you can hear echoes of, like Television and the 3-minute single side of psychedelia. And despite the fact that most of the songs follow a predictable quiet verse/loud chorus pattern, the odd instrumental section makes it quirky and adds something refreshingly different.

Most people who are familiar with this album know it for its singles, of which there are four. The most notable are ‘The Riverboat Song’ and ‘The Day We Caught The Train’. If Ocean Colour Scene are a pop-rock band, then the first one is definitely the rock and the first one the pop, and both are great, although of the studio versions I slightly prefer ‘Riverboat Song’. ‘The Day We Caught The Train’ was clearly written to be performed live, but luckily some of the magic manages to carry through into this studio version. It’s all about the chorus – the verses basically just exist in anticipation of the big moment – but it is a glorious chorus; one that’s sure to make you feel good about pretty much everything.

‘The Circle’ was another, and though it was possibly a less obvious choice of single (owing to its fairly long instrumental ending which happens to be the best part) on the album it continues the trend of being really good. The electric guitars stand out, bright and tangy (yes, that’s the word I meant to use: they remind me of the musical equivalent of a citrus fruit, surprisingly but not unpleasantly strong). But the final single, ‘You’ve Got It Bad’, is equal parts boring and dull, probably the only faster song where the band’s knack for catchiness doesn’t see them through.

For similar reasons, I would also consider skipping ‘Lining Your Pockets’, since the melody really doesn’t grab me and the band have no energy in the quiet, ballady parts.

The obvious choice would be to put one of the two opening tracks as best song, but truthfully a lot of the later album cuts are crazily underrated. Let’s start with ‘Fleeting Mind’, a far superior ballad to ‘Pockets’, and the start of the more serious middle section of the record. The backing music is interesting in its own right here, not just acting as a backdrop for the vocals as it does in some places. The best part is where Simon sings ‘That’s not hard to forget…’, a line that tugs at the heartstrings and possibly also the vocal chords.

‘One For The Road’ is actually a really sad story, with a strong message about being careful while drinking and partying, but it never gets preachy, mostly down to the swinging ‘get up and dance; get up and smile’ chorus that lets go a bit more than the slightly over the top melancholy of the first couple of lines. ‘It’s My Shadow’ is another one that mixes prettieness and direct emotion with its building chorus and anthemic hook, to great effect. But even these don’t come close to the unquestionable highlight that is ‘Policemen & Pirates’. Nobody from OCS has ever been referred to as a lyrical genius, but the curious, metaphorical lyrics here always make me stop and think: ‘The house caught on fire in the winter/The bosses lay slain/And each of the workers decided to tenfold their pay’. Musically, it expertly fuses rock and soul and juxtapositions a smooth vocal melody with jumpy intermittent percussion and has a really cool guitar riff at the beginning.

At almost eight minutes long, it’ll come as no surprise that the prog influence is felt most on the closer ‘Get Back’. It makes for an outstanding finish – a mostly instrumental piece with a very involved performance from everyone. They took a risk putting this on their album, both stylistically and with their fanbase, but it was definitely worth it – stretching their abilities and incorporating a wider range of instruments while remaining accessible.

This isn’t your typical mainstream pop rock album, but it isn’t alt rock either, and perhaps their lack of identification with any scene or label is why OCS were never crazily successful, despite their ties with Blur. It could also be to do with the fact that they peaked with this album and then moved into a more dad rock style, always staying listenable but nowhere near as engaging. Still, labels are unnecessary – anyone with an ear for melody who doesn’t need things to be too complicated is sure to find something to enjoy on this album.

Pink Floyd: Wish You Were Here

Wish You Were Here

Best song: Shine On You Crazy Diamond, part 1

Worst song: Welcome To The Machine

Overall grade: 5

Coming a full two and a half years after ‘Dark Side’, this marks the longest gap between two Pink Floyd albums so far, and they spent much of this lost time banging on tin cans. That’s not any kind of metaphor – no, they decided to resurrect an old project, ‘Household Objects’, which comprised music played on anything except for actual musical instruments. Now, nothing has ever been released (officially or otherwise) from these sessions, but it could be interesting, no? After all, all instruments have to be made by someone, from something, and all the band were essentially doing is cutting out the manufacturer and doing it themselves. Really just a step on from when they started getting involved in the production. However, that idea never really got off the ground, and so Roger Waters began to write some more songs to be played on more conventional instruments: six in all; and four would appear on this record with two being saved for the next one.

Which brings me to the big question: how can an album with five songs (since one is in two parts) which are all great, get the same or lower grade than an album which has serious weaknesses? Well – something I mention fairly often is songs that work in the context of an album, but not individually. Here, I see it as the other way round. Taken on their own, each of these songs are awesome, but if you put them together, they don’t quite work as a complete piece. The difference in style between ‘Crazy Diamond, pt. 1’ and ‘Welcome To The Machine’ is jarring and although the segue between ‘Have A Cigar’ and the title track is clever, where it becomes staticky, unclear radio music for a while, the two songs require a very different mindset and I can never get used to them next to each other. So, although I often play all these songs, it’s very rare for me to play them together as a set.

The three shorter tracks are very much overshadowed by the massive ‘Shine On You Crazy Diamond’, which is both the longest song Floyd ever did (it just hits the 26 minute mark) and the one with the most parts (there are nine, count ‘em!) Parts 1-5 open the record and the slightly less essential Parts 6-9 close it, although these ones I do put together, since parts 1-9 in their entirety are actually a great experience that surprisingly few people have tried. Though I don’t enjoy the whole composition as much as ‘Echoes’, it’s probably a more sophisticated piece. As in most of this album, Rick Wright dominates, which is nice, and he’s very subtle and atmospheric, giving everything time to breathe and develop, with perfectly-timed solos by him and Gilmour appearing all over the place. The expertly constructed piece shows the mark of a band with experience at writing these epics, but who are certainly not complacent, and it feels lonely and isolated throughout, before ending on a few bars of the melody of ‘See Emily Play’, their 1967 top 10 single, which feels both familiar and out of place – an appropriately worrying ending to the song and album.

The title track is what all of Roger’s acoustic numbers from ‘More’, plus ‘If’, ‘Grantchester Meadows and ‘Pillow of Winds’, have been leading up to – the ultimate in heartrending and pure beauty, both musical and lyrical… it’s one of those songs that I can’t imagine myself ever not wanting to listen to. ‘Running over the same old ground; what have we found? The same old fears’ gets me every time.

But the two tracks before it are the very different ones… ‘Welcome To The Machine’ is a very good song that never quite seemed to justify its seven and a half minutes to me, but at five or so it wold be excellent. It’s very cold, harsh and mechanical, shutting people out with Wright’s keyboards giving it a very tense feel, and it is weird. I could believe it was recorded inside the machine it talks about. ‘Have a Cigar’ is different again, Roy Harper’s guest vocals combining the sarcasm of Roger’s and Dave’s ability to stay in tune, and he seems to have the confidence neither of them have. The rhythmic feel really suits the song and the attempt at a more straightforward rock style almost foreshadows the direction the band would take for some of the post-Waters era, interestingly, although the guitar solo doesn’t nearly match up to the one on ‘Wish You Were Here’.

In all seriousness, though, I’ve often heard it said that ‘The Final Cut’ is the most depressing Pink Floyd album, but I think I could make a strong case for this one. Though musically they’d survived, I can’t even imagine how they felt about the loss and breakdown of their early bandmate Syd Barrett, and hearing their thoughtful and sometimes harrowing playing on these songs shows how much it affected them – even without considering the story, now music folklore, of Syd himself turning up in the studio while they were recording ‘Shine On’ and asking when he needed to start playing.

Course, he later called the song ‘a bit old’. Like that’s ever going to be the case.

Radiohead: Hail To The Thief

Hail To The Thief

Best song: Myxomatosis

Worst song: We Suck Young Blood

Overall grade: 5

Remember when Radiohead announced their followup to ‘OK Computer’, and it could have gone one of two ways – either safely carried on in the direction of that one, a carbon copy, not breaking any new ground but sure to satisfy most people who fell in love with the original? Or the sharp left turn towards electronica they did take, which rebranded them forever as experimentalists and innovators? Well, if this had been the immediate sequel to ‘OK Computer’, I feel like it would have been the clone of that album everyone was expecting, and maybe things would have turned out very differently.

See, for the first time this album feels like Radiohead – there’s something of a formula at work. Take ‘Sail To The Moon’, for example. It’s quite a beautiful song but it is their classic haunting ballad, similar to those which have appeared on every album previous. Also, almost every song here follows the pattern of starting quiet and sparse and building up to a bigger, faster, almost angrier sound near the end. It would be interesting to hear more songs do the opposite. If you, too, would like to hear songs do the opposite… don’t look here.

That said, I don’t find this album unnecessary in the Radiohead canon. Lyrically it might well be the strongest thing they’ve done yet. They’re still partly political, partly fearful and partly cryptic, and lyric writing has certainly never been an area where Yorke has struggled, I just like these ones particularly. (I have a desktop background picture that’s a wordcloud just comprised of quotes from Hail to the Thief, like ‘Go and tell the king that the sky is falling in when it’s not’.)

There’s a great disjointed rhythm and hopeless atmosphere at the start of opening track ‘2 + 2 = 5’, and I also really like the effect later in the song with the sped up vocals. ‘Backdrifts’ creates similar effects, it’s like the song equivalent of a strobe light, very jerky and off kilter. And these two songs effectively demonstrate the one real difference between this album and its predecessors, which is that this is less abstract. Written in the run-up to the 2004 election with its anti-Bush title, nothing about this claims to be a hypothetical world. This is real, about things that are happening now, and we can’t even pretend to escape it.

‘Go To Sleep’ is different to the two I mentioned, though. It’s another with a great opening, swathed in those wafting acoustic guitars that make it kinda folky, but with a dark edge. Sadly, as it continues, it wanders into more generic territory. ‘Where I End And You Begin’ happily does not suffer from this problem. It has a truly brilliant section where the industrial rock-style backing is contrasted by Thom’s high, soaring vocals; a very exciting combination. I might listen to the album just for that little bit.

But what’s with the handclaps on ‘We Suck Young Blood’? What’s with anything about that song? It drives me insane and not in a good way. It’s not pleasant to listen to at all, and its point (about Hollywood taking over the minds of easily-led young people) could be made much better another way. I much prefer the more electronic-based ‘The Gloaming’, a melody deconstructed to the point of being unrecognisable, containing the line ‘We will suck you down to the other side’ sung with enough apathy to make it incredibly creepy.

One of the more traditional songs, ‘There There’, deserves a mention because I like the way the very dense instrumentation and the melodic vocal line are separate near the beginning but fuse to become one as the song goes on. Juxtapositions like this one are one of the things this album does well: for example, the pairing of melodicism and dissonance on songs such as my favourite, ‘Myxomatosis’. The only way I can think of to describe it is that none of the instruments sound like they’re exactly in the right place, making it unpredictable and all the more thrilling for it. Positioned in a place where most albums have their weakest tracks, it’s always a welcome surprise.

And then we finish things off with the emotional but not particularly challenging ‘Scatterbrain’ and its opposite number ‘A Wolf at the Door’. Of the two I prefer the second. On an album where nothing really flows, it fits right in, because I can’t imagine it ever flowing with anything. It’s strange, not a traditional closer, and doesn’t end the album neatly, kind of reminding you of the imperfections of everything (after all, how many things in real life end neatly?)

At this point in their career I’m not sure Radiohead were capable of making a bad album. Even if they’d tried, what they’d come up with probably would have been incredibly interesting. But instead, they played it safe. And while, as you can see from the rating, that’s not necessarily a bad thing; it’s definitely not a good thing either.

Pink Floyd: Meddle

Meddle

Best song: Echoes, what else?

Worst song: Seamus

Overall grade: 5

(I’m gonna speed up on the Floyd reviews a little because I’d like to have The Wall reviewed before I go off to see Roger Waters perform it on September 14. Which is only a month away, so it looks like I’ll be speeding up a lot. We’ll see.)

Ever heard an album where one side is absolutely outstanding, a complete work of genius, and you can’t get enough of it, and the other side is sorta lacklustre and a complete letdown in comparison? Ever wonder why the good and bad music on one of these albums isn’t more evenly spaced so as not to be so top/bottom-heavy? Well, on the second count at least, this one is excused, because the work of genius is one complete extended piece running over the whole of the second side. Anyone who’s read my piece on sidelongs will know that this one, ‘Echoes’, is actually one of my three favourite songs of all time, so the album it comes from really should score at least a 6, but I can’t bring myself to get excited about most of side one at all.

The sole exception is opener ‘One Of These Days’. It’s the only Floyd song ever to feature Nick Mason take lead vocals, and unrelated, it’s also an instrumental. (That joke never fails to amuse me.) Incorporating hard rock and psychedelia, it uses twin basses and drums to create a harsh, aggressive atmosphere that delightfully torments the listener for five minutes, giving them high hopes for what’s to come.

Hopes are crushed, though, as ‘A Pillow of Winds’ comes in. Roger was clearly getting bored with the whole acoustic folk thing, as this one’s dull and lifeless without any of the lyrical imagery of earlier equivalents. ‘Fearless’ is an attempt at a power ballad that has none of what singles Pink Floyd out from bland radio music, except for that annoying ‘You’ll never walk alone’ chant at the end. ‘San Tropez’ is an essentially pointless foray into the world of lounge jazz with some of the world’s most boring keyboard parts and ‘Seamus’ is just pathetic. The fact that they tried to get a dog to sing a song really shows that they were at a loss for new material.

But then comes the treat, the exquisite fudge cake after the mundane spaghetti bolognese. I’m one of those hipsters who doesn’t think this band ever topped ‘Echoes’. Maybe on some level they agreed with me – it’s certainly telling that they never attempted another sidelong after this. And it shouldn’t be as truly astounding as it is. The four of them didn’t have that much technical skill, training or even experience to work with, yet they managed to pool the talents they did have and come up with this, and that just makes the finished product even more of an achievement.

Much of the middle section of the piece is based around sound effects, something the Floyd are skilled at incorporating into their music. Most of them are sea-related; birds, wind, whales, a submarine, and, yes, echoes, all of which make the track feel open, spacious and free. But there are some shrieks which give the song a darker edge – a sea casualty, perhaps? These water references carry through into the lyrics, which are also the first of Waters’ musings on the human condition, and their combination of abstract and intent make them really quite beautiful: ‘And no-one showed us to the land and no-one knows the wheres or whys/And something stirs and something tries and starts to climb towards the light’. But Rick Wright is the member who truly shines on his piece, from his ‘ping!’s at the beginning of the song that always send a shiver down my spine to his marvellous organ solo that appears just before the final vocal part. Honestly, this song includes every style of music they have covered and would cover(except for disco and 80s synth-pop, but they’d feel a bit out of place, no?), it’s the perfect balance of melodic and experimental and listening to it engages both the head and the heart. The input ingredients are simple, but the output will make your breath catch in your throat.

Has anyone ever noticed that all the bad songs on this album are fluffy, positive songs? Clearly, endless negativity and cynicism was always destined to be the place where Roger would shine. And now, with this album of extremes safely out of the way, it wouldn’t be too long until he’d realise that too…

Taylor Swift: Speak Now

Speak Now

Best song: Dear John

Worst song: Innocent

Overall grade: 5

Taylor Swift’s third album is the first one I listened to all the way through. The first two, I knew as individual songs, and the fact that they were all released at the same time was of little to no consequence. By the time this was released, though, I could see the importance of the album format, so this went on my CD player and I played it straight through, discovering every song at once. Does that influence how I think of it? Probably. There’s no connection between any of these songs, but in my mind they’re far more parts of a whole than just a collection of parts.

It might not be just me, though. Taylor’s certainly becoming more mature here and on many songs we see her taking on a more ‘adult pop’ style, so it wouldn’t be out of the question for her to be looking more towards the album than the singles. Although this development also leads to my main problem with the album: it’s a little predictable. The songs are well written pop songs with a hint of country, exactly the same as the last album, the slightly more sophisticated music and lyrics just able to counterbalance the fact that she’s not stretching herself re. styles.

But still, I’m not one to argue with a bunch of good songs, so let’s talk about some of these. Here, we can divide most everything into upbeat pop songs, slower ballads, and a small amount of slightly more ambitious material.

This last category comprises two of my favourites: this album’s answer to the emotional, multipart storytelling of ‘Love Story’ is ‘Dear John’, but this time it’s a story of empowerment rather than dependence, and it’s outstanding in the way Taylor’s voice shows its narrator move from being broken and hurt to realising she’s better off without that relationship. (That description doesn’t exactly make it sound groundbreaking, but this is impressive stuff.) The other one is ‘Haunted’, a very melodramatic song that almost strays into orchestral rock territory at times and features Swift almost shouting some of the lyrics, refusing to hold back any of her feelings.

A whopping five songs fall into the slow ballad category, and the best is the thoughtful and introspective ‘Never Grow Up’, where Swift gathers the courage to sing to her younger self, pleading with her to enjoy being young while she can, and the futility of the whole exercise makes it incredibly poignant. Also successful are the slow-building, understated ‘Last Kiss’ and the apologetic, uncertain ‘Back to December’ that showcase her talents to the full, both as a singer and a writer. On the other hand, ‘Enchanted’, while a nice tale of meeting someone once and having an instant connection that I can definitely relate to, ultimately doesn’t play to her strengths. And ‘Innocent’ is just an embarrassing attempt at psychoanalysing Kanye West for the incident when he interrupted her VMA acceptance speech.

And finally, upbeat pop. The title track and the closer ‘Long Live’ are both overblown, overproduced, and far cheesier than they rightfully should be, and I wholeheartedly enjoy both of them. Apart from anything else, it’s nice to see a famous musician writing a song appreciating their opportunities rather than complaining about the perils of being famous. ‘Sparks Fly’ is the closest this album comes to filler – it’s fun and catchy but doesn’t have any kind of a deep meaning. ‘Better Than Revenge’ is slightly self-conscious, a girly girl trying too hard to be one of the boys, but it’s catchy as hell and probably a great live number.

And that’s without even mentioning the actual lead single, the double-platinum ‘Mine’. Lyrically it’s the closest copy of anything from ‘Fearless’, with its description of a relationship that goes through its trials and tribulations but ultimately ends up perfect, but it deserves recognition for being the last of Swift’s songs to feature such themes, and there is a charming naiveté in her belief that this could happen.

This third album was entirely written by Swift herself with no help from other songwriters, making it completely her own work. It’s clear she really cares about the messages behind her songs and giving them a certain amount of musical depth, and is capable of realising these aims, but it’d be nice to see her push herself more and think outside the box a bit.

Ramones: Rocket to Russia

Rocket to Russia

Best song: We’re A Happy Family

Worst song: I Don’t Care

Overall grade: 5

The Ramones release their first album for the third time, and yet if I was to listen to these albums not knowing which came first and which were just re-treading old ground, I think I’d call this one out as the best of the three. That makes sense, I suppose – if you keep practicing writing the same style of song, you’re bound to improve. There’s also arguably the biggest number of absolute classics on this album (not Blitzkrieg Bop though, sadface) which might be a coincidence or it might show that they’re getting better at judging which of their songs are likely to be popular with their fans.

The first of these future favourites is ‘Cretin Hop’, the most blatantly derivative song here. But be honest with me now – in your heart, which would you enjoy more: a rewrite of the band’s greatest song or a new song that’s kinda mediocre? After all, the Ramones are all about enjoyment. You’re not supposed to listen to them and think ‘That’s an interesting chord progression I’ve never heard before’ or ‘Wow, that lyric really makes me think!’ If you’re sitting still while you listen rather than shaking your head around like a crazy person, you’re doing it wrong. So I think ‘Cretin Hop’ is great because it gets that uncontrollable physical reaction from me right at the beginning of the album.

‘Rockaway Beach’ is the result of the little-known late 70s collaboration between the Beach Boys and the Sex Pistols. What? That never happened? Well, you could have fooled me because that’s exactly what this song is, a bunch of nice harmonies combined with super-fast loud guitars. Then there’s ‘Sheena Is A Punk Rocker’, all power chords and that instantly recognisable singalong chorus.

The one that just edges out the best song competition is ‘We’re A Happy Family’. Although musically the Ramones are in about the same place they were two years ago, lyrically they’ve come on a lot, and this song has a great set of words to go along with it. Another punch comes in the form of the written-to-shock ‘Teenage Lobotomy’: I can’t imagine another band trying to rhyme ‘tell ‘em’ with ‘cerebellum’. That, along with the cool drum opening and the repeated yelling of ‘lobotomy!’ means the song includes everything that made early-period Ramones great.

Two cover songs make an appearance here, and one of them actually achieves classic status too. It’s obvious which one – the great version of ‘Do You Wanna Dance?’! No, I’m kidding (although that IS a good cover too), it’s ‘Surfin’ Bird’ of course. It might be the most annoying song ever written, it might be the only ever song to be based off a radio jingle rather than the other way around, and it’s definitely the perfect song for this band. It reminds me of an excitable kid: gets on your nerves, tiring to be around, yet deep down you can’t help but like it.

There’s a little bit of filler on this album, but overall less than on its predecessors, so I can listen all the way through without getting tempted to tune out. ‘I Don’t Care’ is pretty stupid – it essentially negates my earlier comment about the band getting better at writing lyrics, but it’s very short and precedes 3 awesome songs, so I’ll tolerate it. ‘I Can’t Give You Anything’ is another low point. Not awful, but it doesn’t have the attitude and energy that it should coming from these guys. But there are a couple of songs that break the super-fast, loud mould of the highlights I’ve mentioned and make it work well – specifically ‘Here Today Gone Tomorrow’ and ‘Ramona’, a pair of more sincere love songs that don’t come across as contrived.

The part of my brain that values originality is yelling at me to dock this album points, but there’s so many undeniably great songs here that I can’t manage it. Get this one before Leave Home and even before the debut, so long as you’ve listened to… oh, you know what I’m going to say.

Pink Floyd: Atom Heart Mother

Atom Heart Mother

Best song: Fat Old Sun

Worst song: Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast

Overall grade: 5

‘If I were a good man; I’d understand the spaces between friends…’ Irrelevant, but I just like that lyric.

I probably know more about the history of Pink Floyd than I do about any other band, and they don’t at all seem like the kind of people I can imagine working with an orchestra – more than anything else, the way they work just doesn’t coordinate with the way orchestras work. Yet that’s exactly what they did for the title track of this fifth album in 1970, an album which generates opinions ranging across the spectrum from underrated masterpiece through flawed but worthwhile all the way down to total garbage.

I take issue with the total garbage idea, because while I can see the reasons for dismissing the title track and the final track, there are also three songs in the middle which are close in sound to a lot of the more ‘mainstream’ Floyd songs of their commercial mid-70s period. Surely ‘If’ is just a Roger Waters foray into musical and lyrical styles he’d then use for radio favourite ‘Wish You Were Here’? ‘If’ is even more minimalistic, barely a hint of guitar and a whispered voice giving you the chance to focus wholly on the lyrics – which are some of Roger’s best, since this is before he started trying to get too philosophical.

Rick Wright writes one of his last solo compositions for the band, ‘Summer 68’, a sad, nostalgic look at the relationship between rock star and groupie. The verses are softly sung but the volume and emotion behind the ‘how do you feel?!’ lines of the chorus always catches me off guard. If the song’s not based off a real event, he’s good at pretending.

But it’s Gilmour’s ‘Fat Old Sun’ that steals the show. I love its simple soothing melody and the relaxed, summery quality of Gilmour’s voice as the song gradually, almost unnoticeably builds. The electric guitar’s introduced for a solo with about two minutes to go and while it’s not one of his best solos, the interplay with the acoustic rhythm part is interesting. The song as a whole strikes me as a slightly more lightweight precursor to ‘On an Island’, Gilmour’s solo album from over thirty-five years later.

The title track, while often called ‘freaked out’, is actually pretty and melodious most of the way through. Example: the whole of the ‘Breast Milky’ section (although I can’t stand these subtitles). And is it ‘Funky Dung’ with the majestic horn part? Things like this stop the track from being just a bunch of atmospheric noises sandwiched together and turn it into something that actually has a flow – the only truly avant-garde section is ‘Mind Your Throats Please’, and I really enjoy the contrast of this with the classical-rock feel of before.

The complete opposite to ‘Ummagumma’, every member of the band seems to have been involved in the making of this piece. And while it might not always be obvious at times when the orchestra and choir are stealing the spotlight, there’s definitely been a significant development in both Rick and David’s playing – or maybe they’re just more engrossed in the material. The piece also makes good use of the technique of the ‘returning theme’, where a motif from the start of the piece is also included later for continuity.

My major criticism about the piece is that, while it’s jam-packed with great sounds, it’s not actually about anything. When the band wrote ‘Saucerful of Secrets’, it was an aural representation of a battle, and then would go on to write ‘Echoes’, about connections between human beings, but this one, which I’ve always seen as a kind of middle ground between the two, it just a showcase of the effects they’d been trying out.

But while I enjoy the first three quarters of this album without reservations, the final track, ‘Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast’, is a big letdown. Credited to the entire band, but mostly Nick Mason’s brainchild, this is basically a recording of Floyd roadie Alan Stiles eating breakfast. The crunching of toast and occasional appreciative words are an entertaining novelty on the first play, but after hearing the album ten times it’s lost its appeal and becomes annoying. The piano and guitar parts don’t excite me at all and more to the point, they don’t remind me of eating breakfast! And this is already pretty long for a single album, so a whole minute of listening to bacon crackling without any other instrumentation is really excessive. The only bit I quite like begins around the 9 minute mark, but still no breakfast related feelings.

Historically, this album is important because it’s Pink Floyd’s first sidelong, their only major songwriting collaboration with an outsider (Ron Geesin, who’s worked with Roger Waters previously, co-wrote the title track) and because it’s the first album to feature nothing but a picture of a cow on the cover. And for the most part, the material inside manages to match this importance.

I love the cow, though. Not surprised it took them to #1 in the album charts.

Yes: Tales from Topographic Oceans

Tales From Topographic Oceans

Best song: The Revealing Science of God (Dance of the Dawn)

Worst song: The Ancient (Giants Under the Sun)

Overall grade: 5

It seems slightly twisted to write this on the same day as a Ramones review. I feel like a traitor, like I’m betraying both bands equally by listening to and enjoying the other one. But don’t listen to what people tell you about this album – more than anything else, it’s an incredibly important protopunk record. Sure, Iggy Pop was loud and Status Quo only knew three chords but it was this album, more than any other, that really inspired the rage that punk musicians felt, that really convinced them that speaking out against the musical climate of the time was the only way to go.

But despite it causing a whole musical movement three or four years after its release, this album got quite a lot of hate from critics for quite a long time. Its reputation seems to be improving somewhat throughout recent years, and I’ve read quite a few positive reviews of it since George Starostin trashed it on his old site. I guess I’ll be positive too – qualified positive. This could be a single album and it might be one of my favourite Yes albums, and that could either be these four songs each cut down to around twelve minutes, or it could be just two of these songs (first and last, please) with a little more effort put into each of them.

That second option is because I think that even if these songs were perfect, this album would still be too much. I have Soft Machine’s ‘Third’, another album made up of four sidelongs, and it’s freaking hard work to listen to, as much as I like it – and I say that as a lover of these extended compositions. But overall I’d choose all four songs shortened, just so Jon Anderson can still claim to be the only person to write an album based on ‘Autobiography of a Yogi’, which is of course why he started this project in the first place.

So, four songs to talk about, and how much I like each one directly correlates with their interest to filler ratio, so if they WERE cut down (if I say it enough, Jon might take the hint) it’s perfectly possible that ‘Ritual (Nous Sommes Du Soleil)’ could be my favourite, because parts of that song are, in a word, sublime. It’s the closest thing on the record to a traditional song and it showcases Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman performing some of their best work. However, it’s also the most drum-heavy track, and we’re had a lineup change in the last year – Alan White is now behind the kit, and he’s very good, but he’s not Bruford-good. So this is the only point where Bill’s missed. (Side note: I now have his autobiography! Should I do a book review?)

I’ll go backwards, then. This is preceded by The Ancient (Do I Have To Write These Subtitles Every Time) which is the part that really drags. Half the band barely make an appearance and so Steve Howe is left to hold up the fort on his own which he does with some boring electric guitar and some awesome classical guitar, and the song, especially the first half, is a lot more noisy and experimental than you’d expect from Yes, and the style isn’t something they do well. It’s a fair effort, though, and makes more sense if you’re following the lyrics and/or concept. Interestingly, if my sources are right, Howe actually contributed to these lyrics, making it not quite such an Anderson-dominated affair as most think.

Further back still, ‘The Remembering’ is laid back even in its interesting sections, and in its dull parts I think that Jon Anderson should have composed ambient music. I don’t really think that, it would have been a huge waste of his talents, but he certainly COULD have done. Chris Squire plays excellently on this song though; think ‘The Fish’ but bigger. If each band member really made their mark on one section here, this is his, and if you’ve ever thought the bass can’t be a lead instrument, here’s proof that it can. Oh, I also think this song inspired the tranquil blue of the cover art: one of Roger Dean’s best works, it was my desktop background for a while.

Lastly, to begin with, ‘The Revealing Science of God’. A friend of mine once said something like ‘When a song becomes longer than about eight minutes, it’s no longer a regular song, it’s a symphony’. I’m not trying to be pretentious, but I think that’s true here. This is great, great stuff the most fully formed piece, the one with enough musical ideas to justify 22 minutes, that completes the triumvirate of Yes sidelongs with ‘Close To The Edge’ and ‘Gates of Delirium’. It defies the whole idea of a structure and seems to have beginnings and endings in unexpected places. It’d be brilliant to see this one live.

Each of these are worthwhile pieces to varying degrees, and you shouldn’t just dismiss this album. At the same time, you might not want to listen to it all at once. You could split it up and do a piece when you wake up, one in your lunch break, one after you finish school/work for the day and one before you go to bed… come to think of it, that actually sounds rather nice, doesn’t it? I might do that next time instead of what I usually do, which is listen to it while I perform mindless tasks like putting all my CDs onto iTunes.

Don’t believe the controversy: say Yes to this album.

That was by far and away the worst line I have ever written.

Taylor Swift: Fearless

Fearless

Best song: Fifteen

Worst song: You’re Not Sorry

Overall grade: 5

Following the release of this album, Taylor Swift headlined her first tour, and I saw her play Wembley Arena in London. Her support act was a young Canadian musician who nobody had ever heard of, and his name was Justin Bieber. Two months later, everyone was talking about him. “I’ve seen him live,” I was able to say, and got starry-eyed looks in response.

Even if it did make Justin Bieber big, there’s still a lot to like about this album. It’s packed with danceable pop songs and mournful ballads that, in other hands, might seem like vapid carbon copies of other contemporary music, but not when Swift’s singing them. She’s just so earnest – her lyrics aren’t afraid to tell the whole truth of a story and even though the themes are still high school romances and teenage dramas in many places, she clearly believes what she’s singing about.

A huge country music fan would be likely to call this album ‘selling out’, but personally I think she was always going to turn to pop. It’s clear in some of the songs on her debut, like ‘Our Song’, but even more so in its bonus tracks and in a lot of her unreleased material from her early days, and combine that with the fact that, now in the limelight, she was probably exposed to a lot more pop music than country, and I don’t think it was a conscious decision to write her new songs in this way.

Taylor Swift is often accused of writing exclusively moany breakup songs, but that only applies to three songs here, and two of them are actually really good. The first is White Horse, which begins with her feeling downbeat and sorry for herself, having realised that ‘I’m not your princess; this ain’t a fairytale’ but goes on to see her getting up and feeling empowered as she decides that ‘this is a big world, that was a small town, there in my rearview mirror disappearing now’, takes charge of herself and leaves him. The other is ‘Breathe’, a song contrasting reserved detachment in the verses with an outpouring of emotion in the painfully honest chorus.

‘You’re Not Sorry’ tries to do the same thing as ‘Breathe’, but it’s a poor imitation, uninteresting musically and it doesn’t make me care about the outcome of the relationship is describes.

The complete opposite of these songs is the wonderful single-type material of ‘You Belong with Me’, ‘Forever And Always’ and the title track, all of which make me wish I was a twelve year old girl again, dancing around my room and singing out of key and wondering how it was that this Taylor Swift understood my feelings. You can hate them because they’re not as ‘serious’ as a lot of music or you can love them because they do exactly what they’re supposed to and they make you happy. I’m pleased to be in the second camp.

But there are two really, really standout songs on this record that I haven’t mentioned yet, and either one of them could be best song, cause I’m never sure which is better. ‘Love Story’ is the single that made her famous; you probably know it, it was shamelessly produced to be a hit but it can’t hide the fact that its retelling of Romeo & Juliet has a far broader, longer-lasting appeal than the average MTV audience. ‘Fifteen’ is where Swift gets to shine as the sole songwriter with a big-sisterly warning about the difficulties of high school where the music seems to develop and grow older along with the narrative. Clever stuff.

The only tracks that depart from the love song formula are the final two. ‘The Best Day’ is closest in style to the last album, lacking the anthemic choruses of this one and instead staying simple and understated. The fact that she writes a song for her mother is sickly sweet but the song itself is genuine enough to justify it. Lastly, ‘Change’ is the sweeping grand finale, full of power and triumph and soaring ‘hallelujahs’ over a string backing, and the best part is, it’s vague enough that you’ll always be able to apply it to your life.

I’d be very surprised if Taylor Swift ever took a political stand or put herself into a cause, but that being said I can think of far worse role models for young girls to have. In this album she speaks up for underdogs, takes moral high grounds, moves on, gives advice, has fun and even appreciates her parents. And she does it all to music that isn’t too bland or boring to actually listen to.