James Taylor - "Sweet Baby James" (1969)

Rating: 6

Verdict: Keeper

I have long professed to hate James Taylor, but I am well conditioned to the idea that nearly every musical artist looks bad if you let them keep recording long enough. In the case of Taylor, a fairly mediocre singer/songwriter in the scheme of things, but one who has released a long series of albums, it should be no surprise that most of them are bad, at least if my blue bin is any indication. My point is that despite having tried several Taylor albums and having liked none of them, it's not completely fair to judge an artist by their dregs rather than their prime. Because of this, I was willing to give Sweet Baby James a listen as it is commonly regarded as the best JT album. If I didn't like this one, then I could probably safely conclude that Taylor never made a good album.

Well, this record is proof that he did make a good album, and against my better judgment, I am somewhat impressed by this record. I still don't care for his bland voice ('easygoing' being the word that people that like him use), but this is the only James Taylor album I've heard where he wasn't content to simply strum on his guitar and sing the first melody that came to mind for the lyrics he wrote. Yes, there are actual points of musical interest here. He was never a revolutionary in this regard, being firmly grounded in folk, country and blues (mostly folk), but it's quite refreshing to hear him play acoustic guitar parts that are actually interesting to hear on their own rather than simply acting as accompaniment. He switches style and tempo enough that there's diversity as well and best of all, genuine care put into developing his melodies. Witness the jazzy, off-hand end of "Fire and Rain" - the later Taylor would have deemed the chorus good enough and probably omitted the descending hook in the verses too ("I just can't remember who to send it to").

Now I didn't love this album, and part of my reflexive disdain for Taylor stems from those who try to elevate him to the position of an all-time great. For example, this album ranked 103rd on Rolling Stone's Top 500 albums of all time. It might make my top 500 by default as of this writing (I doubt the number of albums I have heard is significantly larger than that) but I seriously doubt it would come anywhere near it if I had heard all the albums that Rolling Stone presumably considered. Instead, Sweet Baby James completes my understanding of Taylor's ultimate importance - at least, to my own imaginary musical pantheon. At one time, he was capable of making nice music so he can't be completely dismissed. But if this is the best he could offer, then it's not surprising that I don't like much else by him. 

Rating: 7/10

The Smashing Pumpkins - "MACHINA/The Machines of God"

Rating: 6

You may know it as the notorious album that precipitated the Smashing Pumpkins' breakup. But is MACHINA/The Machines of God as terrible as its title would indicate? Perhaps I have my head so far up Billy Corgan's bald ass that I can't tell what good music is anymore, but I say no. But mediocre, most definitely!

For although Corgan's songwriting declined as we entered our third millennium, it hadn't completely gone to shit either. However, this album is filled with bad artistic decisions. Let's take a quick run-through of the decision-making of Mr. Corgan:

Wrote a set of spiritual, soaring mid-tempo ballads? Make sure that every song is produced with a deafening, buzzing wall of sound that makes Phil Spector want to kill again.

Need a lead single? Re-write "Zero" from Mellon Collie, give it a meaningless title ("The Everlasting Gaze") and make sure to include an a cappella section where you sing the line "But underneath the wheels lie the skulls of every cog" with a hard G so that everyone wonders if they just heard you scream 'skulls of every cock'.*

Find yourself with 25-30 minutes of top-notch material and no more? Make the album 73 minutes long and then release a companion album called MACHINA II with 90 minutes of OUTTAKES from the recording sessions.

Shit, I've almost convinced myself that I shouldn't give this album three stars which is what I'm going to do at the end of this review. But despite the flaws, I do think there is 25-30 minutes of top-notch material here, which is enough for a borderline positive rating. The stretch from "Stand Inside Your Love" through "This Time" is good enough that I can almost forgive the stretch of bad songs from the needlessly 10-minute "Glass and the Ghost Children" (solid at 3 minutes, bad at 10), through the tedious "Blue Skings Bring Tears." I wouldn't say there's a great album buried here, but there is a good album at 10 or 11 songs, especially with sparser production. And what pushes me over into positive territory is that "Stand Inside Your Love" is a truly great single, the one vestige of classic Pumpkins.

So if you're a Pumpkins fan, you should still listen to this album. If you aren't, don't. And no, there is no fucking way I am ever going to listen to MACHINA II.

Rating: *** out of *****

* There is one other example of this that I can think of in the annals of rock: Manfred Mann's "Blinded by the Light" where the singer clearly sings "Wrapped up like a douche" when the line is "Wrapped up like a deuce." I'm not sure I can say why, but both songs make my skin crawl.

The Smashing Pumpkins - "Pisces Iscariot" (1994)

Rating: 8

Sure, he brought it on himself, but I find it a shame that Billy Corgan is mostly known as a crackpot, or worse, the bald guy with the shitty voice. I don't think he is (or was) quite a genius, but perhaps the Smashing Pumpkins' relatively disappointing fade-out post Mellon Collie shouldn't have been such a surprise. Consider the lengths of their first three albums:

Gish: 45:45

Siamese Dream: 62:17

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness: 121:39

Then throw in this album, an excellent 57-minute collection of B-sides and outtakes and you've got over 4 hours and 45 minutes of quality Pumpkins, or seven normal-length vinyl records. So where a non-fan might see the lukewarm reception to their fourth and fifth albums (and subsequent breakup) and think they were some flash in the pan, they were really just victims of hanging around too long and letting Corgan make an ass of himself in the media one too many times. His prime may have been relatively short, but he wrote 10 or 15 years worth of music for some bands in four years.

Oh yeah, Pisces Iscariot. It has the best reputation of the various compilations of the band's unreleased tracks (yes, there are several) but I was a bit skeptical that they really had another full album's worth of good material considering it only draws on the recording sessions for two albums (Gish and Siamese Dream). And yet, I find this better than Gish and their third-best 'album' overall. It has a surprisingly good flow for a compilation, alternating between typical Pumpkins rockers and lighter, more evocative material. Corgan not only doesn't embarrass himself covering "Landslide," he does almost as good a job as Fleetwood Mac!

What I find particularly refreshing is that it largely lacks the epic ambitions of their first three studio albums and instead most of the tracks clock in between 2.5 and 4 minutes. Though this ambition is what made the group great at their best, it could be their downfall as well, so the result is that Pisces Iscariot is much more consistent, if lacking the stunning high points of Siamese Dream or Mellon Collie. 

That said, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that there is one major exception here to the previous paragraph - the 11-minute "Starla" which definitely qualifies as a stunning high point in my book. As this album demonstrates quite well, there are two major components to the group's sound: loud, distorted alternative rock meets heavy metal and lush, dreamy soft pop. I find they are at their most compelling when they combine the two in the same song, and "Starla" is a great example of this. Beginning with a quiet arpeggiated opening, they bring in a gruff riff, slowly building the song to a crescendo before dropping to a quiet fadeout five minutes in, seemingly the end of the song. Not so! Instead, Corgan comes to the fore with nearly six minutes of Hendrix-esque guitar soloing as he scrapes every bit of unearthly noise he can get out of his instrument. It's ridiculous and should be terrible, and yet somehow, it's the best thing here. And that is the essence of the Smashing Pumpkins.

Bob Dylan - "New Morning" (1970)

Rating: 8

Although it is my opinion that Dylan would never again reach the astounding heights of Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde (and that includes Blood on the Tracks, which although it would probably make my purely hypothetical Hall of Fame Album Pyramid, wouldn't make the Pantheon), my recent listening to his immediate post-Blonde oeuvre certainly hasn't been unrewarding. Although I agree with the critical masses that his infamous Self-Portrait was a misfire, I also don't think it deserves infamy. Yet he released several good to great albums during this stretch, including John Wesley Harding, Nashville Skyline, and New Morning, released just four months after Self-Portrait. My main criticism of him during this stretch is not that he lost his genius, but that his genius was unfocused, manifesting itself on a handful of songs per album only. This is somewhat the case on New Morning, but there is enough strong material to recommend it.

On this album, Bob largely ditches the guitar and focuses primarily on rambling piano ballads. Being Dylan, his piano-playing is unpolished, his vocals are abrasive at times, and especially due to the short length (35 minutes), it isn't hard to imagine it being knocked off in four months. Yet he is also more direct and heartfelt on this album than he had really ever been until this point, and he conveys a genuine warmth and sweetness. Although this is nowhere near as momentous a record as his earlier stuff and has too much filler for me to call it a masterpiece (witness the awful beatnik spoken-word "When Dogs Run Free"), the best songs here are also spiritually akin in that Dylan's humanity shines through like almost no other rock songwriter can manage.

For example, I was already familiar with the opening track "If Not For You," as covered by George Harrison on All Things Must Pass. After hearing Harrison's glorious Phil Spector-ized version with its wall of acoustic guitars, the much more low-key Dylan version with its significantly dinkier organ part and ramshackle feel passed me by on the first listen. And yet now, I am overwhelmed by the homely charm of the Dylan rendition and although the Harrison version is hard to beat, it's much closer than I ever would have thought.

The other major highlight for me is "Sign On the Window" which has the closing verse:

Built me a cabin in Utah

Marry me a wife, catch a rainbow trout

Have a bunch of kids who call me Pa

That must be what it's all about

Out of context, these lyrics seem almost embarrassingly naive. But in the context of the rest of the lyrics. ("Sign on a porch says, 'Three's a crowd'"), the tone is much more wistful. And in the context of the music, when you hear his rueful vocals in conjunction with his piano, it's deeply moving. Although Dylan is about the lyrics first and foremost (contrary to what the contrarians will have you believe), the way he sings the lyrics is just as important as how they are written down on paper, which is what nearly all the singer-songwriters who followed in his footsteps forgot. Keeper!

Olivier Messiaen - "Quartet for the End of Time" (1941)

Rating: 9

Note: The above album cover is not actually the performance I own of this piece.

Although my working knowledge of classical music is scant and pathetic, I do know enough that I had at least been meaning to listen to my Quartet for the End of Time LP for several years now. In terms of backstory, it's hard to beat, since much of it was composed by Olivier Messiaen while he was a prisoner of war during World War II. Even better yet (from my perspective), the themes deal with no less than the Apocalypse and the music is a paean to angels coming down from Heaven. I may not be religious myself, but I do have a fondness for music inspired by religion, assuming it is infused with a proper awe and majesty (which classical music usually is).

Still, I had listened to part of the record once, but as background music, and expected something more immediately majestic and stirring, where it in fact does awhile to get going. But with a full listen, I really found myself drawn in by the power of the piece. In particular, I was struck by the fifth movement, (which closes the first side on my record) a slow, seven-minute cello solo backed by piano, and if at first it seemed somewhat sparse, the richness of the theme slowly gives way to a state of bliss. And to have it followed up by a wild dissonant piece hearkening the six trumpets of the Apocalypse is something that I just don't ever find in my usual sphere of pop and rock music.

It will definitely take me more listens to appreciate everything that Messiaen is doing here, especially due to my lack of experience with modern classical. But although I'm afraid to stake out a final position yet (above rating is a guess), I have a strong feeling that this shit is really good. Like, fucking great. So needless to say, keeper!

Spirit - "Twelve Dreams of Dr. Sardonicus" (1970)

Rating: 8

Judging by the album cover, this one looked like a bust. Or I suppose it would have, if I hadn't already known this to be a fairly acclaimed record. And indeed, Twelve Dreams of Dr. Sardonicus is just as trippy as the title and the album cover would imply, but it is also a potent brew. I am not quite sure how to describe the sound, which is at least one sign of a good record, or at least a unique one. There are elements of jazz, folk, and hard rock, but with spacey guitars and processed vocals. Maybe it's a stretch, but in places, it reminded me of Animal Collective, though I suppose Spirit is slightly more restrained. That's another sign of a good record, though, for although the vibe of the record is dated, the sound is quite modern. Overall, I was very impressed, although I think they sometimes go overboard in trying to be weird and psychedelic, so I wouldn't quite call it a lost masterpiece. But a very good record? Hell yes! Keeper!

Bruce Hornsby and the Range - "The Way It Is" (1986)

Rating: 7

Bruce Hornsby is Springsteen without the aggression, or perhaps Dire Straits without the grit. So if my first reaction to hearing these gentle, smoothly produced, mid-tempo guitar rockers was to throw up in my mouth a little bit, can I really be blamed? And although Hornsby's synthesizer playing is more of an added texture to the songs than the primary focus, its existence at all instantly dates the record to right around 1986. But somehow, as the album kept going, I had the sudden epiphany that every single song had a driving melody and tuneful chorus. This record, in fact, has the opposite problem from my last review. In this case, the production and general vibe turn me off, but after sitting down and giving it a full, focused listen, I can't help but appreciate the craftsmanship and more importantly, the consistency. It'd still be easy to say that the aforementioned flaws immediately sink it, but I'm a fan of nuance in my ratings, so while The Way It Is is certainly no masterpiece, it is a perfectly fine album. Keeper!

Pat Boone - "Sings Irving Berlin" (1957)

Rating: 7

I will admit that my knowledge of pre-rock era standards is low, so I really couldn't say whether Pat Boone's covers of Irving Berlin are good, bad, or mediocre versions. I enjoyed the record, and allmusic.com gave it 4.5 stars, so perhaps that should be enough to content me. The melodic phrasing is typical of singers of this time and although I find the style to be a bit dated in the wake of the much more emotional and personal singing of the rock era, it does have a subtle charm that grew on me throughout the course of the album. One benefit of covering the repertoire of a well-known songwriter is that you can filter out the dregs and indeed, this album is blindingly consistent. All this is to say, I liked the record, and although I probably wouldn't feel any need to own two albums of Irving Berlin covers, Mr. Boone currently has no other competition in my collection ensuring that he will avoid the blue bin.

Big Star - "Third/Sister Lovers" (1978)

Rating: 7

Third/Sister Lovers was released well after Big Star had already dissolved, having been recorded four years earlier and then shelved, presumably for its weirdness. And it is a fascinating listen, as Alex Chilton seemingly intentionally subverted the glistening power-pop of their first two records, releasing a chaotic, uncommercial record. Maybe he just said "fuck it" after failing to reach commercial success with two albums that were lovingly crafted just for the radio. Perhaps there was some consolation in the critical acclaim that eventually followed.

I'd like to say that Third is the band's masterpiece, but I can't go that far. Over the course of the album the sound, at first thrilling, becomes somewhat monotonous, and the hooks begin to dwindle (of course, one could argue that's the point, but there are enough songs here that have hooks, albeit strange ones, that I find fault with the ones that don't). Still, the first half of the record is near-perfect and although it may sound jarring at first, further listens reveal that these songs do indeed possess the classic Big Star elements, just twisted and fucked up. "Jesus Christ" has a perverse, sped up carnival organ intro but although it sounds more raw, it still has a chiming riff and soaring chorus that would have fit on their earlier records if not for the lyrics ("Jesus Christ was born today, Jesus Christ was born"). Similarly, "Big Black Car" with a different arrangement could be "Thirteen" from #1 Record, but instead is slowed down to the point where it sounds like it belongs more on the Twin Peaks soundtrack than in the Big Star catalog. 

Whatever Chilton's intentions, Third/Sister Lovers solidified Big Star's critical reputation as a band that was willing to change their artistic identity without sacrificing, and indeed enhancing their emotional power. And that's a good reputation to have.

Big Star - "Radio City" (1974)

Radio City, along with its predecessor, #1 Record, is one of those albums that music enthusiasts and critics all rightly revere, citing its influential qualities, reveling in its blissful pop melodies, etc... Being an avid reader of online music reviews, I felt quite familiar with Big Star before ever listening to their music. Yet I was reminded when listening to the band in the car with my girlfriend that outside of us hardcore rock music buffs, very few people have heard of them. So while Big Star is no doubt overrated by some (isn't every band?), they still deserve to be heard by a wider audience, especially since despite their lack of commercial success, they were no doubt a commercially-oriented band, and thus really aren't that hard to get into compared to a lot of my other lesser-known favorites.

As for the music itself, it is filled with jangly guitars and big hooks, and is no doubt the forerunner for various indie-alternative-pop bands of the 80s and 90s. Lead singer/songwriter Alex Chilton was not just a great tunesmith, but sings with a strained vulnerability that adds an undercurrent of unrest to the songs even while the guitars chime brightly. As a result, the band excels at rocking out (the near 6-minute jam "O My Soul") yet the best song here, "September Gurls," and arguably the best of their career, is a sweet, unforgettable mid-tempo ballad. So if you haven't heard Big Star, get this album! I'm reviewing this one because I was already very familiar with their debut, #1 Record, which is even better, being more diverse and featuring more tear-jerking ballads. On CD, the two albums are commonly packaged together, which is so much the better, since they're basically the same album anyways.

The Beach Boys - "All Summer Long" (1964)

Rating: 8

In my efforts to undo my good work in consigning so many of my records to the blue bin, I keep buying more. Somehow I found myself returning from what was supposed to only be a trip to the bridal expo with seven records on Sunday afternoon. But how can I resist when I can buy classic Beach Boys records for $3?! 

At any rate, in 1964, the Beach Boys had not yet become the Beach Boys of Pet Sounds or Smile. Yet I still find it a damn shame that I grew up thinking of this band as lightweight, for even though the lyrical subject matter indeed fails to extend beyond the topics of cars and girls, Brian Wilson was first and foremost a musical genius. For one side of this record, it's practically perfect, as the gorgeous harmonies are all here as is Wilson's immeasurable gift of melody. The songs are simple on the surface, of course, yet songs like "I Get Around" sound better and better every time I hear them. More detrimental than the lyrical deficits is the fact that the second side consists mostly of boring instrumentals and re-writes of every song on the first side, which is somewhat hard to fathom since the album is only 25 minutes long. Still, All Summer Long is an obvious keeper, and a great record in its own right. But of course, they would only get better! 

U2 - "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" (2004)

For once, U2 did themselves a disservice with their lead single. 8 years later, I still remember the annoying iPod commercials featuring "Vertigo" and cringe. And although probably every song ever is made much worse when edited and chopped into a 30 second product placement, I still think "Vertigo" is pretty terrible and much too reminiscent of their forced postures of the 90s, even if it doesn't have anything to with techno. I'm all for musical diversity, but time has proved that U2 isn't really good at anything besides epic rock songs that aim for nothing less than transcendence. 

And yet, the rest of the album much more resembles All That You Can't Leave Behind. If the 'unforgettable fire' they had in the 1980s is gone, and they at times feel like they're re-writing their best songs, they're also savvy veterans and they know they can't go wrong with a big Edge guitar part and a cathartically building Bono vocal. On songs like "Miracle Drug" and "Original of the Species," I feel that U2 magic all over again. This is also one of their more consistent albums, for once closing on a high note with "Original of the Species" and the stirring "Yahweh," plus nearly every song is memorable on some level. Weirdly, I think that "Vertigo" and the follow-up single "All Because of You" are actually the worst songs on the album, as they both attempt to rock out, which the band hasn't done well since 1984. But when they play to their strengths, which they do for most of the album, they prove that they can still do quality U2.

Pete Townshend - "Empty Glass" (1980)

I found this album at a local vinyl store for $4.00 yesterday, which is part of why I love buying records. I suppose I could have gotten it for free with a few clicks of my mouse, but $4.00 is a small price to pay for actually owning a physical album. At any rate, Empty Glass is the first solo album by Pete Townshend, best known of course as the guitarist/songwriter behind the Who, who I consider to be either the second or third greatest rock band of all time. And although the Who were nearing the end in 1980, Townshend still had quite a bit of creative energy left, as he showcases on this record.

It's not quite as good as the classic Who of course, since the other three members of the band were vital, even if Townshend wrote all the songs. But if you had to pick one member of a great band to go solo, you always want it to be the songwriter, and this album is full of creative melodies and arrangements. At times, it hearkens back to the Who, especially with the occasional tonal shift mid-sing into a plaintive, spiritual bridge like on "Rough Boys." There are also humble, yet bombastic epics like "Empty Glass" but also pure pop that you wouldn't see on most Who records like single "Let My Love Open the Door" and "Keep On Working." 

At any rate, Empty Glass is one of those great pop records that I find myself having a hard time describing in words. How many ways can one say that these songs develop in interesting and unexpected ways, while maintaining instant memorability and emotional appeal? It may sound easy, but it takes genius to write most of the material here, and in 1980, Townshend still had it. Keeper, of course.

U2 - "All That You Can't Leave Behind" (2000)

A quintessential example of a 'comeback' album by a veteran band. On All That You Can't Leave Behind, U2 abandons their electronic experiments of the 90s and returns to the uplifting melodic balladry of albums like The Joshua Tree. And although I always prefer to be a contrarian, the result is undoubtedly their best since 1991's Achtung Baby. In fact, after the first five songs, I wondered if this might be (for me, anyways) U2's long-awaited masterpiece. 

The first four songs I was already familiar with from listening to alternative rock radio in 8th grade as my local DJs couldn't get enough of the fact that U2 had finally returned to their traditional sound. Although I enjoyed them fine at the time, I can now say confidently that these singles are indeed the shit. Though they lack the 'edge' of their 80s work and feel somewhat calculated, it all works. "Beautiful Day" is the best U2-by-numbers song I could conceive of, and "Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of" and "Walk On" successfully showcase a sweeter side of the band. "Elevation" is probably the precursor of their dreaded iPod jingle "Vertigo" but has the benefit of actually being good. Throw in track #5 "Kite" (another anthemic ballad) and you have a first side that is 95% as good as the first side of Joshua Tree, for although it's not as powerful, this is as melodic as they've ever been.

Unfortunately, having moved past the innovative, fresh stage of their career, it was probably too much to expect that they might have finally found the cure for their notorious front-loading of albums. And in fact, this may be the most extreme example of bad album sequencing in the U2 catalog yet. Almost imperceptibly, the album slides into being pleasant rather than stirring, and then boring rather than pleasant. So I can't quite rank this one on the same level as their more famous albums. But it is definitely a keeper, and the first five songs come highly recommended.

Culture Club - "Colour by Numbers" (1983)

The definition of guilty pleasure (just look at that album cover!) but I can't deny that Colour by Numbers is a masterpiece of bubblegum pop (as long as we agree that a masterpiece of bubblegum pop probably still can't go beyond a 4 stars out of 5 rating). When I first listened to this record, I did find Boy George's whiny, 'soulful' vocals to be grating and didn't really give it a proper listen. But then "Karma Chameleon" was stuck in my head for long enough that I eventually decided it was worth giving it another chance. And indeed, pretty much every song here is memorable and catchy (in a good way), which satisfies the first (and maybe only) requirement of a great bubblegum record. Shockingly, they summon up some real soul as well on tracks like "Church of the Poison Mind" with great backing vocals from Helen Terry. Anyways, if you've heard "Karma Chameleon" and found it obnoxious, stay away. If you've heard "Karma Chameleon" and found yourself secretly enjoying it, then don't be afraid to pick up Colour by Numbers.

Emerson, Lake & Palmer - "Emerson, Lake & Palmer" (1970)

A keeper, but as I learned the hard way with Yes's Relayer, I wouldn't recommend playing this kind of music at parties. Like any self-respecting music critic who likes ELP (or are there any music critics who like ELP apart from amateur web reviewers?), I do feel conflicted about enjoying their music. And indeed, for about half of the first side of the record, I felt confident that I would be able to break from the shackles of my forefathers and deem this a blue bin album. But I felt the same way when listening to ELP's Tarkus, but eventually came to a grudging acceptance of the record. And lo, the same thing happened here!

For those who have never listened to ELP before, the issue is as following. This is prog-rock at its most proggy, with the music centered around piercing early 70s synthesizer solos. I don't particularly care for Emerson's synthesizer tone, seeing how it's aged about as well as Paul McCartney's voice, and though his playing is technically impressive, it is ridiculously overwrought. But the solos are not played with no greater end in mind. There is a diversity of moods, melodic hooks, and most importantly, the sense that these are actual compositions. Plus there are some piano solos every now and then! And most importantly, this album closes with "Lucky Man," a song which I have no compulsions about liking, and in a weird way, reminds me of Ween's The Mollusk (without the humor, of course). If you ever decide to give ELP a chance, start here.

B.B. King - "Guess Who" (1972)

Slated for blue binning after a thumbs down review from my favorite online album critic (George Starostin), B.B. King's Guess Who became the subject of unexpected controversy in my household when my girlfriend told me that she had randomly played it and loved it and I immediately responded back with a link to Starostin's negative review. Not fair, perhaps, but I really do agree with Starostin a rather large percentage of the time and indeed, my fondness of his reviews no doubt has a lot to do with the fact that we share similar musical philosophies and tastes. 

And the most important musical philosophy we share is to actually listen to the record instead of judging it ahead of time (sounds obvious, but I have long suspected that allmusic.com and Rolling Stone do not always follow this principle). So much as I'd like to steal my friend Jonathan's witty pun about B.B. King standing for 'Blue Bin King' (okay, I already did steal it), I will be keeping this record, not that I wouldn't be anyways even if I hated it. My feeling, for what it's worth, is that G. Star. has a point regarding the fact that there is not a whole lot of guitar played on the record with the arrangements instead dominated by strings and horns. That's not to say that strings and horns are inherently a worse choice, but they are much less distinctive than when King brings out his trusted Lucille. But King is a good enough singer to make up for it, and when he does play guitar, he soars. Still, I will defend Starostin, as I could certainly see that in the midst of reviewing 44 B.B. King albums, this one probably wouldn't stand out.

Whitney Houston - "Whitney Houston" (1985)

Even I'm not so crass as to blue bin a Whitney Houston album the day after her death, though indeed her death is what prompted me to review this LP. I have mixed feelings about this album, as the vocals are consistently stellar ("How Will I Know," "Saving All My Love for You") but the production and arrangements are very dated, with a lot of electronic rhythm tracks for the up-tempo cuts and the ballads inevitably arranged in the "I Will Always Love You" mold ("Greatest Love of All"). Ultimately, we will remember Houston more for her voice than for her songs, and though she doesn't show it off nearly as much as I would like, when she does, I am left with no doubt that she was one of the two greatest commercial pop singers of the era, along with Mariah Carey. For me personally, I will always wonder what she could have done with better songs and a less commercial approach, but maybe that's beside the point.

Dan Fogelberg - "Phoenix" (1980)

Despite my frequent disparaging of Mr. Dan Fogelberg, here I am holding on to another one of his records. This album is rather inconsistent in terms of song quality, with a fair amount of the kind of boring soft rock that I most readily associate with him ("Gypsy Wind," "The Last to Know"). But on the other hand, he pulls off some decent, 'harder' rock songs like "Phoenix" and "Face the Fire" (though both are overlong). I think I like the more rocking tracks because really, my main problem with Fogelberg is his wishy-washy 70s singer/songwriter vocal tone that makes his slower songs induce narcolepsy. He is capable of writing a decent melody, but then often loses the emotional pull of the melody with his bland singing. So on a song by song basis, I'm still not entirely sure if this album is worth keeping, but I found myself impressed by the obvious care put into the arrangements of each song as well as the overall flow and presentation of the album as a whole. I guess that's why I always like to give records a chance.

Vivaldi Ensemble, Tokyo - "Vivaldi Concerto and Beatles Medley" (1977)

I have a hard time applying my typical keeper/blue bin dichotomy to this particular record. On one side, the functionally-named Vivaldi Ensemble, Tokyo plays what they presumably know best - Vivaldi. I have admitted in past posts on this blog that my understanding of how to critique and compare jazz albums is minimal, at least compared to my knowledge of rock. And if anything, my understanding of how to critique and compare classical music is even weaker, especially with regards to differentiating between two performances of the same piece. So while I do find this particular concerto to be an excellent one, I have no real sense of how much credit to assign this particular Vivaldi Ensemble for the performance without closely listening to other performances of the same work.

The second side I certainly can critique as the ensemble takes on a medley of Beatles songs - "Yesterday," "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" and "Michelle." I don't find classical takes on these songs to be particularly revelatory, unfortunately. I'd like to say that McCartney's more sophisticated harmonic palate would lend itself well to classical, and his songs do make more sense in a classical environment than Lennon's. But somehow "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da," easily the worst of the three songs when performed by the Beatles, sounds the best here. The cover of "Yesterday" is in particular a disappointment, plodding along at a turgid pace and losing the yearning of the original. Considering the original "Yesterday" is well known for having string accompaniment, I have to think that the failure here to bring it into a classical music context has to be placed squarely on the shoulders of this Vivaldi Ensemble of Tokyo. 

So is this a record I keep or throw away? On a pure level of artistic merit, I would say blue bin. But I don't have any other recordings of this particular Vivaldi concerto, and for that reason, I do imagine I'll return to this record. Keeper!