Coming Down Hard

Say what you want about the Cult, a band who will certainly go down as one of the most schizophrenic in rock history, but singer Ian Astbury and guitarist Billy Duffy could sure write a great tune. Just glance at a few titles included on the greatest-hits collection Pure Cult: The Singles 1984-1995: "Edie (Ciao Baby)," "Love Removal Machine," "She Sells Sanctuary," "Wild Flower," "Fire Woman," "Rain," "Lil' Devil" – you get the picture. Spread haphazardly across the disc (rather than in chronological order), each track's uniqueness is even more evident, further showcasing the Cult's fearless creativity. Early songs such as "Spiritwalker" and "Resurrection Joe" will surprise most fans with their class and maturity, while later cuts like "Wild Hearted Son," "Heart of Soul," and "Coming Down" (from their disappointing latter-day albums) are given new life when viewed on their own merits.

Although vintage British psychedelia is viewed by many these days as an Alice In Wonderland-style enchanted garden full of beatific flower children innocently gathering flowers or chasing butterflies, there was always a more visceral element to the scene. Pointedly free of such fripperies as scarlet tunic-wearing gnomes, phenomenal cats and talismanic bicycles, the power trio format that was popularised by the likes of Cream and the Jimi Hendrix Experience spawned a host of imitators. As the Sixties drew to a close and pop evolved slowly but inexorably into rock, psychedelia gave way to a sound that was harder, leaner, heavier, louder.

Although vintage British psychedelia is viewed by many these days as an Alice In Wonderland-style enchanted garden full of beatific flower children innocently gathering flowers or chasing butterflies, there was always a more visceral element to the scene. Pointedly free of such fripperies as scarlet tunic-wearing gnomes, phenomenal cats and talismanic bicycles, the power trio format that was popularised by the likes of Cream and the Jimi Hendrix Experience spawned a host of imitators. As the Sixties drew to a close and pop evolved slowly but inexorably into rock, psychedelia gave way to a sound that was harder, leaner, heavier, louder.

Although vintage British psychedelia is viewed by many these days as an Alice In Wonderland-style enchanted garden full of beatific flower children innocently gathering flowers or chasing butterflies, there was always a more visceral element to the scene. Pointedly free of such fripperies as scarlet tunic-wearing gnomes, phenomenal cats and talismanic bicycles, the power trio format that was popularised by the likes of Cream and the Jimi Hendrix Experience spawned a host of imitators. As the Sixties drew to a close and pop evolved slowly but inexorably into rock, psychedelia gave way to a sound that was harder, leaner, heavier, louder.

After years of beating their collective head against the post of hard rock stardom, Y&T finally succumbed to the commercial conventions of the '80s and bowed to the synthesizer gods with 1985's Down for the Count. Under the guidance of new producer Kevin Beamish (REO Speedwagon, Saxon), Y&T joined the perm-haired masses then issuing like dandruff out of the California dust to redefine the meaning of the word "dumb."…

During the early 1960s, rock and roll grew by leaps and bounds. The Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and Motown and Stax Records all entered the stage, and soon nothing would be the same. But, the more things change, the more they stay the same, and much of the Top 40 retained the classic ’50s sound – from teen idols like Jimmy Clanton (“Venus In Blue Jeans”) to nascent Tex-Mex by Sunny & The Sunglows (“Talk To Me”). Eric Records’ Hard To Find 45s On CD, Volume 10: 1960-1965 documents it all, from new sounds – like the Sir Douglas Quintet’s “She’s About A Mover” (in true stereo for the first time ever!) – to the loping rockabilly of Harold Dorman’s “Mountain Of Love.”

During the early 1960s, rock and roll grew by leaps and bounds. The Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and Motown and Stax Records all entered the stage, and soon nothing would be the same. But, the more things change, the more they stay the same, and much of the Top 40 retained the classic ’50s sound – from teen idols like Jimmy Clanton (“Venus In Blue Jeans”) to nascent Tex-Mex by Sunny & The Sunglows (“Talk To Me”). Eric Records’ Hard To Find 45s On CD, Volume 10: 1960-1965 documents it all, from new sounds – like the Sir Douglas Quintet’s “She’s About A Mover” (in true stereo for the first time ever!) – to the loping rockabilly of Harold Dorman’s “Mountain Of Love.”