The Kinks came into their own as album artists - and Ray Davies fully matured as a songwriter - with The Kink Kontroversy, which bridged their raw early British Invasion sound with more sophisticated lyrics and thoughtful production. There are still powerful ravers like the hit "Til the End of the Day" (utilizing yet another "You Really Got Me"-type riff) and the abrasive, Dave Davies-sung cover of "Milk Cow Blues," but tracks like the calypso pastiche "I'm on an Island," where Ray sings of isolation with a forlorn yet merry bite, were far more indicative of their future direction. Other great songs on this underrated album include the uneasy nostalgia of "Where Have All the Good Times Gone?," the plaintive, almost fatalistic ballads "Ring the Bells" and "The World Keeps Going Round," and the Dave Davies-sung declaration of independence "I Am Free."
By sheer size alone, Universal’s 2011 Deluxe Edition of the Kinks' debut album trumps any previous reissue of the album, weighing in at a whopping 56 tracks spread over the course of two CDs. This includes the album in both its stereo and mono mixes, both sides of the “Long Tall Sally,” “You Still Want Me,” and “All Day and All of the Night” singles, the tracks from the Kinksize Session EP, the demo of “I Don’t Need You Anymore,” a couple of alternate takes and mixes, and a clutch of BBC sessions punctuated by interviews with Ray Davies. Although the album proper is slowed down by a little filler, the wealth of bonus material improves the overall experience: many of the single and EP tracks are better than what’s on the LP, the live sessions smoke, and the remastering kicks hard, all factors in making this the best edition ever of the Kinks' debut.
Even as a serious-minded singer/songwriter, Cat Stevens never stopped being a pop singer at heart, and with Teaser and the Firecat he reconciled his philosophical interests with his pop instincts. Basically, Teaser's songs came in two modes: gentle ballads that usually found Stevens and second guitarist Alun Davies playing delicate lines over sensitive love lyrics, and uptempo numbers on which the guitarists strummed away and thundering drums played in stop-start rhythms…
Unlike most DJs, the German duo of Piet Blank and Jaspa Jones actually write some of their own music. Hence this impressive album, the duo's fourth, which consists almost entirely of original compositions. Would that it also consisted almost entirely of original beats, but alas, most everything thumps along in predictable Euro-dance fashion, with the exception of the wonderfully funky and breakbeat-based title track. What redeems the sameness of the beats, though, is the shifting array of fine vocalists, the lush atmospheres, and the unabashedly sweet melodies that dominate the album. More impressively, the singers even make it possible to overlook the songs' giddily horrible lyrics ("Like a ghost that came from an old beginning/You heated up a freezing destiny," etc.)…
If Fleetwood Mac, Humble Pie, and Foghat had never formed, Free would be considered one of the greatest post-Beatles blues-rock bands, and Fire and Water shows why. Conceptually fresh, with a great, roots-oriented, Band-like feel, the album found Free distinguishing itself with the public like Black Sabbath and Deep Purple did (in terms of impact only) in 1970. Free presented itself to the world as a complete band, in every sense of the word. From Paul Kossoff's exquisite and tasteful guitar work to Paul Rodgers' soulful vocals, this was a group that was easily worthy of the mantle worn by Cream, Blind Faith, or Derek & the Dominos.
Rushed out in 1970 as a way to bide time as the Who toiled away on their follow-up to Tommy, Live at Leeds wasn't intended to be the definitive Who live album, and many collectors maintain that the band had better shows available on bootlegs. But those shows weren't easily available whereas Live at Leeds was, and even if this show may not have been the absolute best, it's so damn close to it that it would be impossible for anybody but aficionados to argue. Here, the Who sound vicious - as heavy as Led Zeppelin but twice as volatile - as they careen through early classics with the confidence of a band that had finally achieved acclaim but had yet to become preoccupied with making art. In that regard, this recording - in its many different forms - may have been perfectly timed in terms of capturing the band at a pivotal moment in its history…
Mona Bone Jakon only began Cat Stevens' comeback. Seven months later, he returned with Tea for the Tillerman, an album in the same chamber-group style, employing the same musicians and producer, but with a far more confident tone. Mona Bone Jakon had been full of references to death, but Tea for the Tillerman was not about dying; it was about living in the modern world while rejecting it in favor of spiritual fulfillment. It began with a statement of purpose, "Where Do the Children Play?," in which Stevens questioned the value of technology and progress. "Wild World" found the singer being dumped by a girl, but making the novel suggestion that she should stay with him because she was incapable of handling things without him…
After two decades, the Smithereens were no longer in step with the times and they no longer cared – they do what they do because they love it, not because it's fashionable. They were at that point with 1994's A Date With the Smithereens, but that record was hurt by a weird undercurrent of bitterness and Pat DiNizio's songwriting slump…