ILM's Now For Something Completely Different... 70s Album Poll Results! Top 100 Countdown! (Part 2)

81. THE ADVERTS Crossing the Red Sea with the Adverts (2378 Points, 18 Votes)
RYM: #75 for 1978 , #3345 overall | Acclaimed: #1819
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http://open.spotify.com/album/5Wmr7UWbQr7XuBb1wbKbXg
spotify:album:5Wmr7UWbQr7XuBb1wbKbXg

In its own way, Red Sea is the equal of the first Sex Pistols or Clash LP, a hasty statement that captures an exciting time. Smith's tunes almost all offer a new wrinkle on issues of the day; when they fall into a rut, as in "Bored Teenagers," his breathy, urgent vocals compensate. It's too bad the original album didn't include the ghoulishly funny "Gary Gilmore's Eyes," a wicked single about a blind person who receives a transplant from you-know-(but-may-not-remember)-who. (That omission was rectified on the 1982 reissue but then repeated when a pressing boo-boo left it off the vinyl version of the '90 reissue. The CD, however, does contain that tricky little item.) -- Trouser Press

review
[-] by Dave Thompson

A devastating debut, one of the finest albums not only of the punk era, but of the 1970s as a whole, Crossing the Red Sea With the Adverts was the summation of a year's worth of gigging, honing a repertoire that -- jagged, jarring, and frequently underplayed though it was -- nevertheless bristled with hits, both commercial and cultural. "No Time to Be 21," "One Chord Wonders," and "Bored Teenagers" were already established among the most potent rallying cries of the entire new wave, catch phrases for a generation that had no time for anthems; "Bombsite Boy," "Safety in Numbers," and "Great British Mistake" offered salvation to the movement's disaffected hordes; and the whole thing was cut with such numbingly widescreen energy that, even with the volume down, it still shakes the foundations. The band's original vision saw a rerecording of "Gary Gilmore's Eyes," a Top 20 hit during summer 1977, included on the album -- it was dropped (for space considerations) at the last minute. Several early '80s reissues of the album attempted to rectify the omission by appending the single version to side two of the LP, but it was 1983 before the rerecording itself made it out, as a minor U.K. hit single, and 1998 before Smith himself was finally able to restore Red Sea to its original glory, with "Gary Gilmore's Eyes" slotted in immediately before "Bombsite Boy," and another absentee, "New Day Dawning," following "Safety in Numbers."

80. VAN DER GRAAF GENERATOR Godbluff (2386 Points, 16 Votes)
RYM: #13 for 1975 , #420 overall
http://cps-static.rovicorp.com/3/JPG_500/MI0001/689/MI0001689835.jpg?partner=allrovi.com
http://open.spotify.com/album/4irlewoGTUPndEinKcavLF
spotify:album:4irlewoGTUPndEinKcavLF

With the band out of commission, Hammill forged ahead with his increasingly prolific solo career. Banton, Evans and Jackson were less active, joining forces to record The Long Hello. In October 1974, the four came back together to play on Hammill's proto-punk record,Nadir's Big Chance, and agreed to reform Van der Graaf Generator. Following a spring 1975 comeback tour, the band started work on Godbluff. The opportunity to road-test and rehearse the majority of the new material before entering the studio helped to head off the problems that had dogged Pawn Hearts — the seat-of-the-pants writing and recording of "A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers" had been a major factor contributing to the group's burnout. Echoing the mood of "Lemmings," on Godbluff's opener, "The Undercover Man," Hammill adopts an attitude of resigned persistence ("You ask, in uncertain voice, what you should do / As if there were a choice but to carry on"), and while his delivery is comparatively restrained here, it's no less compelling. That dynamic extends to the overall sound of Godbluff, which marks a departure from the preceding album: the record's four tracks are familiarly lengthy, and baroque, but they're focused, rather than sprawling and overwhelming; while reining in its more unhinged inclinations, the band never forfeits intensity or urgency. In contrast with the prosaic contemplation of the misery of the human condition that characterizes "The Undercover Man," the two strongest tracks find Hammill staging his perennial existential struggles as life-versus-death psychodramas, set in forbidding pseudo-medieval environments. The weighty "Scorched Earth" taps back into the band's menacing, cacophonic tendencies and gallops to a feedback-addled conclusion as the song's protagonist flees for his life. "Arrow" starts out like something from the dark, brooding depths, but Banton's bass, Jackson's electrified squall and Evans' nodding beat together shape a funky groove that gradually coalesces into the song itself, with Hammill's stentorian voice leading another epic charge. The song's atmospheric rendering of a medieval warrior fleeing for his life doesn't end well for its hero who, after a desperate chase and a failed attempt at gaining sanctuary, reflects, "How strange my body feels, impaled upon the arrow." For all the churning turmoil, Godbluff isn't without levity: witness the completely random, supremely cheesy Latin cocktail interlude during "The Sleepwalkers." -- Trouser Press

---
From the opening bars of “Undercover Man,” the new aspects of VDGG are immediate; the music is more open and uniform and the band sound re-energized and (more or less) modern. Whether or not VDGG Mark II could have made it into the “big league” was always debatable; their idiosyncrasies were perhaps too profound. But here, VDGG’s purpose is clear – performance; the chaos has found control, and the band’s execution is impeccable. “Undercover Man” gently fades into the epic “Scorched Earth.” Driving and foreboding, it’s a heavy as one could ask for. Hammill’s lyrical intensity is matched only by his delivery; he sounds as assured and convicted as ever. Evan’s tempo is quick and controlled throughout, while Jackson’s brass arrangements are a perfect foil to Banton’s organ. “Arrow” finds Banton playing bass opposite Hammill on electric piano. After a loose start, Hammill pulls things forward, revealing one of their most enduring songs. “Sleepwalkers” doesn’t even blink after digressing into a circus-like cha-cha, then erupting with a quick double-kick from Evan’s bass drum. The album remains the band’s most consistent record. -- C. Snider, The Strawberry Bricks Guide To Progressive Rock

---
Two and a half years later, they triumphantly re-emerged with Godbluff, which trimmed some of the more dense, show-off instrumentation into sharp, laser focus. Introducing some space to breathe gave the music that much more impact on “The Undercover Man” and “Arrow” with a spare, sinewy rhythm in the opening statement, Hammill’s vocals adding sweeping drama that suggests he may have even been an influence on Ronnie James Dio.  At a time when prog was falling out of commercial favor or moving in a pop direction like Genesis, Van der Graaf Generator became even more heavy and uncompromising, with perhaps only King Crimson as comparable peers. -- Fastnbulbous

review
by Steven McDonald

Following the release of Pawn Hearts, bandleader Peter Hammill took time out to develop a solo career, choosing to focus his energy on darkly introspective works that seemed to be intended to examine the personal consequences of his life. When it came time for reuniting the members of Van Der Graaf, this change in direction had its effect on the band's post-1975 music. While the musical structures continued to be complex and dense, there seemed to be far less accent on the demonstration of musical skill than had formerly been the case. Indeed, the album opened with daring quietness, with David Jackson's flute echoing across the stereo space, joined by Hammill's voice as he whispered the opening lines. There was sturm und drang to come, but the music had been opened up and the lyrics had developed more focus, often abandoning metaphor in favor of statement. Godbluff was a bravura comeback -- only four cuts, but all were classics.

paging imago

79. HELDON Interface (2391 Points, 17 Votes)
RYM: #174 for 1978
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We take it for granted today, but not too long ago, integrating electronics into a rock setting was something exotic and strange. Before Kraftwerk, and certainly ages before all manner of modern digitally powered pop, hip-hop and experimental music, the only people interested enough in electronics to apply them in anything approaching rock were mad-scientists like Raymond Scott, Bruce Haack and David Vorhaus. These people were as much engineers as they were musicians, and history has granted them more technological props than musical ones. However, as the futuristic daydreams of the 50s and 60s graduated into the wide-eyed discovery by thousands of young, fearless kids in the 70s, the ideal of electronic interaction with guitars and drums seemed less an abstract, distant concept than a viable alternate reality.

One of the earliest bands to exploit this marriage to its fullest potential was the French outfit Heldon, led by guitarist Richard Pinhas. Pinhas was heavily influenced by King Crimson leader Robert Fripp-- particularly his searing, sustained tone, coming on like an intensely focused acid-rock laser beam-- and a love of epic-length compositions. Pinhas was also very much enthralled by the idea of using programmed synthesizers in his work. His first records with Heldon are direct precursors to the industrial clang of bands like Throbbing Gristle, and later, Einstürzende Neubauten and Ministry, in their uses of menacing synth clusters performing seemingly endless patterns of perpetually churning, lysergic fuzz. However, his major impact wasn't felt until he combined his love of King Crimson's avant-progressive dynamics with his fetish for doom-filled, minimalist tech-core. The apexes of this fusion were represented on 1976's Un Reve Sans Consequence Speciale and this album, 1977's Interface.

Pinhas worked with two of the finest musicians of his country on Interface: keyboardist Patrick Gauthier (later of Magma), and powerhouse drummer Francois Auger. With this pair, Pinhas was able to construct massive specimens of metronomic terror while still being able to constantly shift the focus of the sound. In concert, they might stretch five-minute patterns into half-hour death races, never deviating from the pre-ordained settings of an army of sequenced synthesizers. The classic Heldon lineup was like an inhuman mix of Tangerine Dream's otherworldly journeys into space and time and the finely tuned brawn of The Mahavishnu Orchestra, not to mention featuring practically orgasmic guitar solos that would make Makoto Kawabata blush. It was excessive to a fault, but then, any music designed to draw out the darkest demons of an acid trip should've been.

The first side of the original LP consists of several relatively short pieces, each nonetheless in the immediately identifiable Heldon style. Auger's "Les Soucoupes Volantes Vertes" and "Bal-A-Fou" both feature synth-ostinatos under which he pounds like Jaki Leibezeit on triple-dosage steroids. The thick rumble of the latter tune almost makes you forget there was no bassist in the band. Pinhas' "Jet Girl" is fairly similar to his earlier Heldon efforts in that it forsakes typical rock aggression for bleak, apocalyptic soundscapes more often identified with the industrial music that was inspired, in part, by this band. Nevertheless, Pinhas' distant, raging guitar serves fair warning that this music originates from the same psychedelic heart as many other concurrent night-trippers like Ash Ra Tempel and Hawkwind, even if the execution was completely different.

The meat of Interface is its 18-minute title track (also featured in two truncated live versions on this Cuneiform reissue). Beginning with phased, metallic hammering, morphing into a percussive pattern and eventually traveling through a truly intimidating labyrinth of synthesizers, howling guitars and all-around horrific, swirling thunder, "Interface" is the definitive avant-prog nightmare. With each passing minute, it seems more detail is layered into the piece, so that before too long, there's so much going on, I can only really make out a single, lurching beast. Rattlesnake electric drums going off on the right, bass-heavy synthlines threatening to throw me off balance, Auger's constantly mutating drum patterns-- but most of all, Pinhas' absolutely unhinged soloing. He starts out merely deranged, bending lines all over the place, like a strung-out Hendrix taking his wrath upon Silicon Valley. His lines eventually transform into almost pure noise, jumping up just long enough for you to notice that your speakers are about to blow from all the commotion below. It really is an obscene mess, but still a gorgeous one.
This CD is the same issue that Cuneiform released a few years back, but which had gone out of print almost as soon. Anyone with even a passing interest in electronic/rock hybrid music should check it out, as well as those wanting to hear one of the chief precedents for bands ranging from Lightning Bolt to Neurosis to Squarepusher. To many (including me), Heldon and Richard Pinhas are considered building blocks for whole schools of experimental rock music, and one of the few who rarely fail to deliver on the hype. -- Dominique Leone, Pitchfork

review
[-] by William Tilland

Heldon's real excellence as a band is dramatically demonstrated with this fine recording. A dashing young left-wing intellectual, Pinhas was something of a cult figure in his native France, or at least had the potential to be one, but he wisely rejected the role of rock & roll guitar hero with backing band, in favor of something much more interesting and radical. Patrick Gauthier on moog and Francois Auger on percussion had played with Pinhas on and off for the previous several years, and at this point they had developed into a solid sympathetic unit with a strongly rhythmic orientation. The intricate interlocking rhythms, created by percussion and several synthesizers, have a proto-techno quality at times, and suggest both the German group Can and, on at least one piece, early Ash Ra Tempel. Some of the Grateful Dead's long, free-form jams might also serve as a touchstone, and tracks like "Bal-a-fou" even begin with loose, vaguely psychedelic fragments which gradually coalesce into a very trippy and propulsive collective improvisation. On several pieces, Pinhas' Fripp-inspired guitar lines provide still another layer of intensity. The tour de force is the long title piece which ends the CD. At close to 20 minutes, it builds slowly, gradually adding layers of rhythmic complexity with drums, synthesized percussion, sequencers and Pinhas' electric guitar, which doesn't even show up until nine minutes into the piece.

WOW! Didn't think this stuff would place so high!

me neither! But Pinhas has his ilx fans and I think a lot of us discovered him thanks to the poll too (i had already voted when I heard it but I'm sure I would have given it some points)

I think Elvis Telecom had given me some of the earlier albums before as I had them on my HD but not these 2 that made it in the 100.

Wonder if nakh knows these albums

Next album up is far too fucking low.

78. CURTIS MAYFIELD Curtis (2392 Points, 18 Votes)
RYM: #13 for 1970 , #180 overall | Acclaimed: #471
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Initially I distrusted these putatively middlebrow guides to black pride--"Miss Black America" indeed. But a lot of black people found them estimable, so I listened some more, and I'm glad. Since Mayfield is a more trustworthy talent than Isaac Hayes, I wasn't too surprised at the durability of the two long cuts--the percussion jam is as natural an extension of soul music (those Sunday handclaps) as the jazzish solo. What did surprise me was that the whole project seemed less and less middlebrow as I got to know it. Forget the harps--"Move On Up" is Mayfield's most explicit political song, "If There's a Hell Below We're All Gonna Go" revises the usual gospel pieties, and "Miss Black America" has its charms, too. B+ -- R. Christgau

Here's a Curtis Mayfield (of the Impressions) solo album; so far as I know, the first. Most of the eight cuts are distinctly Impressionistic, and one, "Miss Black America," includes Sam and Fred singing choruses. There are really no surprises in this album. It's just eight more Mayfield tunes, sweet music to Mayfield maybe, but not what I'd call the best demonstration of the man's talents.

For the past year or so, a lot of Mayfield's tunes have seemed die-cast and lacking in character. He appears to be unable to develop either a musical or lyrical theme to fullness these days, and many of his songs are fragmentary, garbled and frustrating to listen to. Lyrically, his songs are a whole lot more rhyme than reason; which isn't so uncommon, except that he tries to deal with some pretty serious and complex subjects by stringing together phrases that end with the same sound — whether they make sense together or not. Sure, it's all subjective, but I can't myself see that what we need is "Respect for the steeple/power to the people."

The arrangements are all pretty uninspired, a little bit halfhearted — maybe largely because there's so little melodic meat to most of the tunes. A few of the songs move well, mainly on the backs of the conga, bass and guitar men; but the long tracks (six to eight minutes) are a mighty long way for three men to try and carry all that weight.

Five of these cuts may get some airplay and popularity, for one or more of three reasons: because they were written by Curtis Mayfield of Impressions' fame; because they have a good dance beat; or because they deal with "social issues" in a nice, bland, inoffensive, inconclusive way. "(Don't Worry) If there's a Hell Below We're All Going to Go" is a pretty good example. It's jumpy, it's got words like "nigger" and "cracker," "hell" and "Nixon," and it says no more than the title. "The Other Side of Town" presents a grim view of a black man's life and feelings in the ghetto. "We the People Who Are Darker than Blue" is the only song on the album that does some gear-shifting, rhythm-wise; but it doesn't go anywhere, messagewise. "Move On Up" has some life to it, but not eight minutes and 50 seconds' worth. "Miss Black America" strikes me as a good musical commemorative stamp, complete with an authentic black girlchild saying she wants to be a sex-object when she grows up.

Mayfield has written good material in the past. I'm hoping that he's just in a slump, and that he'll soon be writing tunes with real life in them again. This album, though, is pretty much just disjointed skeletons. -- Wendell John, RS

I'll give you some melodic meat. 

Seriously, though...garbled? Curtis Mayfield's first solo record is about as eloquent and direct a political statement as would be made by a major artist in the 70s. And the arrangements are sublime. 

RS abhorred Curtis Mayfield when he was in his prime. Jon Landau panned Curtis/Live! in the 6/24/71 issue: "Since leaving the Impressions Mayfield has ignored his melodic gifts while turning out a series of Sly Stone-Norman Whitfield influenced tunes that have been singularly undistinguished. He concentrates on lyrics these days and those have become increasingly political and pretentious...There are frequent moments of embarrassment..." Russell Gersten characterized Mayfield's third solo album, Roots, as "a confused and confusing record" that had "undoubtedly been influenced, both conceptually and technically, by Marvin Gaye's What's Going On." The charge that Mayfield is ripping off Marvin Gaye is bizarre - Mayfield's lyrics, both with the Impressions and on Curtis, had a political bent long before Gaye was speaking out. I have to think it was Mayfield that primarily inspired Gaye, not the other way around. "One of the main problems with [Roots] is that you can feel a lack of conviction" Gersten wrote in the 2/17/72 issue. "The past few years have been rather painful transitional years for soul music, and this is only one of many sort of schizoid attempts." 

Because he was never as commercially successful as many of his contemporaries, Curtis Mayfield's legacy continues to be dwarfed by people like Marvin Gaye, Smoky Robinson, and any number of Motown artists. But, for my money, Mayfield was the premier soul artist of the 60s and 70s. -- schmidtt, Rolling Stone's 500 Worst Reviews of All Time

Listening to Curtis/Live! reminded me how much I love Curtis Mayfield. On a cold winter night in January 1971, Mayfield performed an intimate show at the Bitter End, a small New York City jazz club to an adoring audience. In between songs he’d rap about the songs, or whatever was on his mind. His soft spoken voice exuded a loving gentleness and humor, but just under the surface was a righteous anger and a little sorrow. His extensive history of socially conscious songs always seemed to hit hard with such authority that eclipsed anything by Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder. And his spirituality is so natural and subtle that he would have made more sense as a reverend than Al Green, the conflicted, tortured hedonist who eventually gave up secular music, but never seemed to have as deep a grasp of spiritual matters as Mayfield. Which is why even though some of Green’s exquisitely produced and performed albums rate higher than some of Mayfield’s, Mayfield is my main soul man.

I honestly can’t find any fault with Curtis Mayfield. His work with the Impressions is impeccible. By 1968, in his second attempt (his first attempt was Windy C Records in 1966), he had established the first truly successful black artist-owned record label, Curtom with partner Eddie Thomas. After recording the Impressions’ strongest albums, This Is My Country (1968) and The Young Mods’ Forgotten Story(1969), Mayfield felt he needed to drop out from touring to work on his label and spend some time in his home town of Chicago with family. The respite was short lived. His creativity was burning bright, and without the restraints of writing for a harmony group and someone else’s label, he was able to let his muse run wild. And wild it was.

His brilliant concoction of psychedelic soul and bongo/conga-driven funk sparkle and bubble with a vivacious lust for life. Even his righteous indignation glows with his love for humanity. His no-bullshit, clear falsetto vocals may not be as accomplished as Al’s, but the plaintive sweet tones are always spot-on, complementing the music that is often gritty, dark, and even menacing (hear “(Don’t Worry) If There’s A Hell Below We’re All Going To Go,” where his processed vocals at first sound like howls from the firey pits before reverting to his more laidback falsetto). “The Makings Of You,” “We The People Who Are Darker Than Blue,” “Move On Up,” it was all killer, no filler.  -- Fastnbulbous

review
[-] by Bruce Eder

The first solo album by the former leader of the Impressions, Curtis represented a musical apotheosis for Curtis Mayfield -- indeed, it was practically the "Sgt. Pepper's" album of '70s soul, helping with its content and its success to open the whole genre to much bigger, richer musical canvases than artists had previously worked with. All of Mayfield's years of experience of life, music, and people were pulled together into a rich, powerful, topical musical statement that reflected not only the most up-to-date soul sounds of its period, finely produced by Mayfield himself, and the immediacy of the times and their political and social concerns, but also embraced the most elegant R&B sounds out of the past. As a producer, Mayfield embraced the most progressive soul sounds of the era, stretching them out compellingly on numbers like "Move on Up," but also drew on orchestral sounds (especially harps), to achieve some striking musical timbres (check out "Wild and Free"), and wove all of these influences, plus the topical nature of the songs, into a neat, amazingly lean whole. There was only one hit single off of this record, "(Don't Worry) If There's a Hell Down Below We're All Going to Go," which made number three, but the album as a whole was a single entity and really had to be heard that way. In the fall of 2000, Rhino Records reissued Curtis with upgraded sound and nine bonus tracks that extended its running time to over 70 minutes. All but one are demos, including "Miss Black America" and "The Making of You," but mostly consist of tracks that he completed for subsequent albums; they're fascinating to hear, representing very different, much more jagged and stripped-down sounds. The upgraded CD concludes with the single version of "(Don't Worry) If There's a Hell Below We're All Going to Go."

Rolling Stone can go get fucked for that original review btw

reading further it seems RS didn't like his solo stuff at all at the time.

It blows my mind how patronizing critics were to Mayfield at the time. WTF! It makes me wonder if they were a factor in him being passed over in the canon in favor of Gaye and Wonder. How many people think Superfly is his only worthwhile album?

I need to check out those albums. I only know Superfly and a greatest hits that has all of the stuff like Move on Up, Hell Below, etc.

77. AGITATION FREE Malesch (2406 Points, 18 Votes, 1 #1)
RYM: #165 for 1972
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-chMCVMGOKWg/TySJ3SFxLJI/AAAAAAAABT4/sc1-LE60lfM/s1600/agitation_free_malesch_1999_retail_cd-front.jpg
http://open.spotify.com/album/6WIwXAoEyc8OOhaaXP1ty9
spotify:album:6WIwXAoEyc8OOhaaXP1ty9

Not willing to compromise, and heavily into the avant-garde (many members studied with the influential Thomas Kessler) it took a long while until Agitation Free got an album out. By that time they had developed a cosmic styled rock with a strong ethnic element. Although in the spirit of Ash Ra Tempel and Pink Floyd, they had their own individual identity, with a largely improvised music that was predominantly instrumental, featuring lots of electronics, keyboards, dual guitars, and a great flair for invention.
MALESCH documents their trip to North Africa and the Middle East, blending location recordings together with their own compositions and improvisations, and is still quite a unique experience even today, combining cosmic, avant-garde and ethnic musics with great invention. -- CosmicEgg

review
[-] by Brian Olewnick

The debut album by Agitation Free followed a somewhat different path than your average Krautrock band, veering unexpectedly toward the Middle East, specifically Egypt, in search of atmosphere and material. Underneath the dueling guitars and spacy synth work, desert rhythms and taped sounds of dusky cities percolate, adding depth and spice to the otherwise smooth, Teutonic grooves. It's a tribute to the apparent sincerity of the band that the use of these motifs does not sound at all contrived, instead integrating quite well. The delicate, intricate percussion that concludes "Ala Tul," for instance, sounds as lively as anything by Steve Reich from around the same period. Tapes of street songs emerge surprisingly and effectively toward the end of the otherwise stately march "Khan El Khalili," providing a bridge to the Terry Riley-ish organ trills that begin the title track. "Malesch," like many of the tracks, spins off into a leisurely stroll, sounding unexpectedly close to some Grateful Dead jams. Even when it picks up pace, there's an unhurried quality that fits in nicely with the Saharan undertones of the album. Malesch is a solid, even inspired recording that stands somewhat apart from the usual clichés of the genre. Fans of German progressive rock from this period will certainly want to hear and enjoy it.

I hear that a lot of black people find Curtis Mayfield estimable.

That's painful!

I hear that a lot of Krautrock fans find Agitation Free estimable.

paging Mordy...

I wonder about xgau with his comments towards the likes of ohio players (his repeated shoogity-boogity comments) and that curtis review.

Miss Black America indeed! I don't have any idea what he looks or sounds like but I'm picturing him saying this with that kind of William F Buckley accent as he looks down over a pince nez.

Yeah, Xgau's comments on black music can definitely be kinda "huh? Really?!" And HELL YES, Malesch...

76. NEIL YOUNG & CRAZY HORSE Zuma (2410 Points, 16 Votes, 1 #1)
RYM: #12 for 1975 , #404 overall | Acclaimed: #858
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Young has violated form so convincingly over the past three years that this return may take a little getting used to. In fact, its relative neatness and control--relative to Y, not C, S, N, etc.--compromises the sprawling blockbuster cuts, "Danger Bird" and "Cortez the Killer." But the less ambitious tunes--"Pardon My Heart," say--are as pretty as the best of After the Gold Rush, yet very rough. Which is a neat trick. A- -- R. Christgau

"It's another rock & roll album. A lot of long instrumental things... It's about the Incas and the Aztecs. It takes on another personality. IT's like being in another civilization. It's a lost sort of form, sort of a soul-form that switches from history scene to history scene trying to find itself, man, in this maze. I've got it all written and all the songs learned. Tomorrow we start cutting them...We're gonna just do it in the morning. Early in the morning when the sun's out..." -- a typically ironic Neil Young describing Zuma

Neil Young's ninth solo album, Zuma, is by far the best album he's made; it's the most cohesive (but not the most obvious) concept album I've ever encountered; and despite its depth, Zuma is so listenable that it should becomes Young's first hit album since Harvest.

One of the most fascinating aspects of Young's masterwork is the context in which it appears. In recent months, rock & roll has become terribly vital again, not just because of the emergence of major new figures, but also because of the rebirth of old heroes. Despite their dark scenarios, Dylan's Blood on the Tracks; The Who by Numbers and Young's awesome combination punch, Tonight's the Night and Zuma, crack with naked, desperate energy in a partly familiar, partly novel form of rock & roll (a "soul-form" as Young describes it) invented simultaneously by these three great artists out of emotional as well as aesthetic necessity. And as serious as their albums are, all but Young's self-proclaimed "horror album" are thoroughly accessible.

If Tonight's the Night was bleakly, spookily black, Zuma - Young's "morning" album - is hardy suffused with sunlight and flowers. Apparently, tempered gloom is the brightest this love- and death-haunted epileptic genius can manage these days. But if, as a stubbornly solitary Young proclaims in "Drive Back," he wants to "wake up with no one around," in "Lookin' for a Love" he's still holding on to some hope of finding that magical life-and self-affirming lover who can make him "live and make the best of what I see." Young doesn't shrink from the paradox, he embraces it like the lover he imagines.

There are real lovers pictured throughout Zuma too, but all have been lost. Like the love-scarred Dylan of Blood on the Tracks and the new "Sara," Young is struggling to get a grip on himself, to "burn off the fog" and see what went wrong with his loves and his dreams. Out of these agonized, bitter and painfully frank confessions he manages to reach both a new, honest lovingness and - even more importantly - the revelation (first glimpsed years ago in "The Loner") that neither his wings nor his woman can carry him away. For Young this insight holds both terror and liberation.

For this struggle, Young wheels out all his familiar heavy artillery: prominent are his recurring metaphors of birds in flight and boats on the water, his compulsive truthfulness, his eccentrically brilliant (and seemingly intuitive) narrative style, his effortlessly lovely melodies and his cat-in-heat singing. Components of every one of Young's earlier album (especially Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere and After The Gold Rush) jostle their way into the agitated synchrony of Zuma.

But what finally causes the album to burst into greatness is the presence of Crazy Horse, which has finally found in rhythm guitarist Frank Sampedro an adequate replacement for Danny Whitten. Sampedro's majestic rhythm work urges Young to what is clearly the most powerful guitar playing he's ever recorded. His guitar lines snake through Sampedro's chordings with the dangerous snap of exposed wires crossing. Young's solos throughout more than match the eloquence of his lyrics, transmitting anguish, violence, joy and longing.

With Crazy Horse providing both firepower and stability, Young is at his best: boundlessly inventive and determinedly multileveled. As he attacks, Young manages to work in oddly playful references to other songs ("...with little reason to believe..." in "Pardon My Heart"; "Whatever gets you through the night / That's all right with me" in "Drive Back"), cryptic comments ("...I don't believe this song..." in "Pardon My Heart"; "...I might live a thousand years / Before I know what that means" in "Barstool Blues"), dramatically forceful incongruities (the cheery "la la" backing vocals in Young's loss-wracked "Stupid Girl"), novel structural devices (two simultaneously sung but completely different verses vying for attention in "Danger Bird"; the unresolving verses and chords of "Pardon My Heart") and brilliantly, uniquely ironic expressions (the whole of "Lookin' for a Love" and "Barstool Blues").

Of the nine songs on Zuma, five are hot, stormy rockers, three are gorgeous, hazy ballads and the last, "Cortez the Killer," is an extended narrative tale that packs equal wallop as a classic retelling of an American legend, a Lawrencian erotic dreamscape and Young's ultimate personal metaphor. This song, perhaps Young's crowning achievement, builds with gathering intensity through several minutes of tense, deliberate playing before Young's voice strikes the first verse:

He came dancing across the water
With his galleons and guns
Looking for the new world
And that palace in the sun.
On the shore lay Montezuma
With his coca leaves and pearls
In his halls he often wandered
With the secrets of the worlds.

The secret of the album, indeed of Young's work in its entirety, is encapsulated in this confrontation: force and wisdom, innocence and aggression, love and death are the issues and the stakes. And the climax is inevitable, but not before Young succumbs for a single verse to a direct comment on the classic struggle:

And I know she's living there
And she loves me to this day
I still can't remember when
Or how I lost my way.

In the brief final ballad, "Through My Sails," Young (joined by Crosby, Stills and Nash), soaring on wings that have "turned to stone," lands finally on a shoreline where he transforms his wings into sails and sings, "Know me / Show me / New things I'm knowin'." Then off he sails.

Perhaps some sunlight does break through on this one. -- Bud Scoppa, RS

review
[-] by William Ruhlmann

Having apparently exorcised his demons by releasing the cathartic Tonight's the Night, Neil Young returned to his commercial strengths with Zuma (named after Zuma Beach in Los Angeles, where he now owned a house). Seven of the album's nine songs were recorded with the reunited Crazy Horse, in which rhythm guitarist Frank Sampedro had replaced the late Danny Whitten, but there were also nods to other popular Young styles in "Pardon My Heart," an acoustic song that would have fit on Harvest, his most popular album, and "Through My Sails," retrieved from one of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's abortive recording sessions. Young had abandoned the ragged, first-take approach of his previous three albums, but Crazy Horse would never be a polished act, and the music had a lively sound well-suited to the songs, which were some of the most melodic, pop-oriented tunes Young had crafted in years, though they were played with an electric-guitar-drenched rock intensity. The overall theme concerned romantic conflict, with lyrics that lamented lost love and sometimes longed for a return ("Pardon My Heart" even found Young singing, "I don't believe this song"), though the overall conclusion, notably in such catchy songs as "Don't Cry No Tears" and "Lookin' for a Love," was to move on to the next relationship. But the album's standout track (apparently the only holdover from an early intention to present songs with historical subjects) was the seven-and-a-half-minute epic "Cortez the Killer," a commentary on the Spanish conqueror of Latin America that served as a platform for Young's most extensive guitar soloing since his work on Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere.

Come On and Zoom
Come On and Zoom
Come On and Zuma
Zuma Zumaaa
ZOOM!

Didn't for this and I'm not sure why. Definitely my favorite Neil Young album. "Don't Cry No Tears" is a fucking jam.

Whoops.

"Didn't vote for this..."

Gortex the Killer, man... think about it.

I voted for this I think... it was either this or After the Gold Rush, can't really remember right now.

"It's about the Incas and the Aztecs. It takes on another personality. It's like being in another civilization. It's a lost sort of form, sort of a soul-form that switches from history scene to history scene trying to find itself, man, in this maze."

Love that Neil quote.

More likely to save your life than kill you surely?

http://thedeal.cleansnipe.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/goretex_clothing112.gif

BTW just hit the last part of the second track of Malesch and its pretty incredible.

Its a heavy plastic -- it can smother!

75. FAUST Faust IV (2426 Points, 17 Votes)
RYM: #16 for 1973 , #456 overall | Acclaimed: #2131
http://cps-static.rovicorp.com/3/JPG_500/MI0002/187/MI0002187528.jpg?partner=allrovi.com
http://open.spotify.com/album/2yFbw2SIBZ7ExIBRVoFkJJ
spotify:album:2yFbw2SIBZ7ExIBRVoFkJJ

Faust IV isn't as consistently innovative as the band's earlier albums, though it still arrived five years ahead of its time. "Krautrock," a parody of longwinded German bands of the era that were heavy on atmosphere and light on content, goes on so long that it winds up indistinguishable from its target. -- Trouser Press

Recorded at Virgin's The Manor, FAUST IV was quite different in sound to the earlier albums, still with much dynamic and radical invention, not least the Can cum early Kraftwerk styled riffing on the relentless "Krautrock", yet there was a lighter edge at play too contrasting with the passages of electronics and weird guitars. For a couple of tours following this, Rudolf Sosna had left the band and Jean-Hervé Peron worked with Henry Cow for a while, and in their shoes stepped in Peter Blegvad and Uli Trepte. -- Cosmic Egg

'Faust IV' is the album where Faust consolidate all of the myriad soundworlds of their previous three records into one. The abstraction of 'Faust', the rhythmic cohesion of 'So Far' and the cut-and-paste heroics of 'The Faust Tapes' are here combined into a diverse collection of pieces and songs that encapsulate all that is special and unique about this most distinctive and innovative band. Easy listening it isn't, yet there is a strange and compelling accessibility and inevitability about this album that will attract the attention of even the most conservative listener, at least in part. Like it's budget-priced predecessor, 'Faust IV' was and is a key record in my realisation and appreciation of pop music beyond its commercialised forebears. But it's taken its time, a long, long time, to hit me.

I wonder how many early owners of 'Faust IV' did as I did and 'The Sad Skinhead' aside, ignored the well-weird (or so it seemed at the time) first side in favour of the comparatively conventional second side. I've now come to love side one to distraction, but still prefer to listen to the album in reverse order. Side two begins with Faust as hard rock behemoths: 'Just A Second' being a short, heavy-as-sin instrumental that sounds like Sabbath, Ash Ra Tempel and the Grateful Dead all melted into one and with treble set to eleven. But any hopes of winning over prospective buyers from the Ozzy fanbase are soon allayed by the free-form 'Picnic On A Frozen River, Deuxieme Tableau' that follows: a short but attention-grabbing piece that helps prevent any impression of a straight-ahead rock band. 'Giggy Smile' is a nearest Faust get to just that: a two-stage rock epic with manic rising and falling vocal scales over Bolanesque tinny axework in the first part, and the best Yazoo keyboard lick that Vince Clarke never wrote in the second. 'Lauft...Heist das es lauft Oder es Kommt Bald...Lauft' is, in total contrast, basically a delightful vignette in the same mode as that consolidatory French-language acoustic piece that ends 'The Faust Tapes', only this time jauntier, more rhythmic and utterly irresistable, falling into a still, droning synth and harmonium phase that sounds like a cosmic collaboration between Klaus Schulze and Ivor Cutler. The side's final track, 'It's A Bit Of A Pain', is an endearing ditty (in the manner of 'Unhalfbricking'-era Fairports) whose release as a 45 seems a sound enough choice until the most jarring and dischordant sustained note, mixed at a higher volume than the rest of the song, wails over the "...But it's alright babe" chorus. The effect is unwelcome, disturbing, and in the last resort incredible. Play this as the background for seduction and see how far you get. A song for loners!

Which brings us (in my own perverse order) to side one, track one, and the twelve demanding minutes of 'Krautrock', the album's apex. It's taken me best part of three decades to get it, but now that I have, it's the first Faust track I'd play to anyone. It's a racket almost beyond words, but totally compelling. I'm convinced that Lou Reed must have heard this before he set to work on 'Metal Machine Music'. The same high frequency guitar tone, in-your-face feedback, and rhythms that are so mixed down in the mellee that they have to be imagined (at least until the drums come in two-thirds through - and what a moment THAT is) permeate the piece. Play this at full volume through headphones and you simply become at one with it. You'll have one hell of a headache but one hell of a high. Sheer, unadulterated power with no tune and no compromise - perfect.

The song that follows is simply not on the same planet, and I don't know of any successive tracks on any album that differ as much as 'Krautrock' and this one. Nearer to 'The Pushbike Song' than cosmic music, 'The Sad Skinhead' is the single that never was. It would have been a wow at school discos in 1973, especially the raucous fight scenes that accompany the vibe-driven middle section. It's as crass as The Pipkins and as catchy as mumps and I love it.

'Jennifer' is dirge-like, hypnotic and spacey with Donovan-like vocals over an incongruous and repetative bass rhythm that sounds like the lick at the beginning of Floyd's 'One Of These Days'. It's a beautiful song that builds slowly until the sheer glass guitar noise that began 'Krautrock' twenty minutes earlier takes over, only to end with an amusingly out-of-place stride piano. Diverse, distracting and delectable.

With this album, Faust took their leave of us for two decades, although Virgin reportedly rejected a fifth album by the band. I think I can see why. 'Faust IV' is, in all aspects, everything that Faust can offer in 45 minutes. I have heard some of the reformed band's projects but nothing comes close to the variety, originality and excitement of the first four albums and 'Faust IV' in particular. It's still available as a cheap Virgin reissue and is worth £6 of any head's money. If you don't believe me, read Keith's Aching Bowels' review of last year and Julian's 'Krautrocksampler'. Then just buy it, cherish it, and play it every week.  -- Fitter Stoke, Head Heritage

review
[-] by Steve Huey

Coming on the heels of the cut-and-paste sound-collage schizophrenia of The Faust Tapes, Faust IV seems relatively subdued and conventional, though it's still a far cry from what anyone outside the German avant-garde rock scene was doing. The album's disparate threads don't quite jell into something larger (as in the past), but there's still much to recommend it. The nearly 12-minute electro-acoustic opener "Krautrock" is sometimes viewed as a comment on Faust's droning, long-winded contemporaries, albeit one that would lose its point by following the same conventions. There are a couple of oddball pop numbers that capture the group's surreal sense of whimsy: one, "The Sad Skinhead," through its reggae-ish beat, and another, "It's a Bit of a Pain," by interrupting a pastoral acoustic guitar number with the most obnoxious synth noises the band can conjure. Aside from "Krautrock," there is a trend toward shorter track lengths and more vocals, but there are still some unpredictably sudden shifts in the instrumental pieces, even though it only occasionally feels like an idea is being interrupted at random (quite unlike The Faust Tapes). There are several beat-less, mostly electronic soundscapes full of fluttering, blooping synth effects, as well as plenty of the group's trademark Velvet Underground-inspired guitar primitivism, and even a Frank Zappa-esque jazz-rock passage. Overall, Faust IV comes off as more a series of not-always-related experiments, but there are more than enough intriguing moments to make it worthwhile. Unfortunately, it would be the last album the group recorded (at least in its first go-round).

Surprised at no comments for that

74. THIS HEAT This Heat (2440 Points, 19 Votes)
RYM: #32 for 1979 , #1680 overall | Acclaimed: #2476
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This Heat covers two years of the band's history, with both live and studio cuts. They use guitar, clarinet, drums and keyboards, permuted with loops, phasing and overdubs, breaking down patterns into only faintly connected musical moments that include artificial skips and looped end-grooves. Though insolent and withdrawn, the music is adventurous and, in its own peculiar way, engrossing.  -- Trouser Press

review
[-] by Dean McFarlane

This British group could neither be called post-punk nor progressive rock, yet This Heat was one of the most influential groups of the late '70s. They created uncanny experimental rock music that has many similarities in approach to German pioneers such as Can and Faust. Other groundbreaking independent groups such as Henry Cow and Wire may be their only peers, and much later This Heat also became profoundly influential on the '90s genre known as post-rock. Their angular juxtapositions of abrasive guitar, driving rhythms, and noise loops on the opening cut, "Horizontal Hold," preempt much later activity in the electronica and drum'n'bass scenes. The outstanding "24 Track Loop" is based around a circular drum pattern that could have been a late-'90s jungle cut were it not recorded in late-'70s London, long before such strategies were even dreamed of in breakbeat music. This album is a great example of ahead-of-time genius, work that draws on elements of progressive rock, notably "Larks Tongues in Aspic"-era King Crimson for all its abrasive, warped rhythm, as well as Can, Neu!, and Faust's pioneering work -- though there is little else that comes close to the unique and distinctive avant rock sound, an entirely new take on the rock format. Their self-titled debut is a radical conglomeration of progressive rock, musique concrète, free improvisation, and even -- in a bizarre distillation -- aspects of British folk can be heard in Charles Hayward's singing. There are very few records that can be considered truly important, landmark works of art that produce blueprints for an entire genre. In the case of this album, it's clear that this seminal work was integral in shaping the genres of post-punk, avant rock, and post-rock and like all great influential albums it seemed it had to wait two decades before its contents could truly be fathomed. In short, This Heat is essential.

Curtis should definitely be higher. I think I only discovered it from the last '70s poll, but 'If There's a Hell Below' totally blew my mind.

And, uh, wtf is Faust IV doing at #75? You people are idiots.

xp - really this should be higher too, though I'm not surprised at its placing.

Pla.y nic.e!

Yeah, Faust IV definitely deserves to be higher than this...but I've always preferred So Far and I haven't seen that yet, so hopefully that one is still to come. "Rainy Day, Sunshine Girl" is such a fantastic thumping mantra jam.

73. AMON DUUL II Tanz der Lemminge (2464 Points, 16 Votes, 1 #1)
RYM: #166 for 1971 , #4689 overall
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http://open.spotify.com/album/2zAGDXvAXbttYb7lpW5w6u
spotify:album:2zAGDXvAXbttYb7lpW5w6u

...the curious cosmic space-out "The Chasmin Soundtrack" (on TANZ DER LEMMINGE) which pre-empted The Cosmic Jokers. There's lots of other classic material on these doubles (naturally!) And, let's not forget the weirdly twisted songs that were as surreal as the music they were contained in! There's so much weird invention in these records that eludes some, especially in the use of electronics and collage, all woven into forays of guitars, violin, drums and magnificent keyboards. These records sizzle and astound as much today as they ever did. -- Cosmic Egg

This was the first Amon Düül II record I ever bought and I loved it, so I was surprised to read Julian describing it as a piece of ‘pedestrian shit’ several years later in Krautrocksampler. If you like the other Amon Düül II records and have been avoiding this one because of Julian’s comments I’d just like to say it’s worth checking out. As far as I’m concerned this record is far superior to its muddily produced follow-up ‘Carnival In Babylon’.

Chris Karrer gets side one and titles it ‘Syntelman's March Of The Roaring Seventies’. It’s supposedly subdivided into four parts but sounds much more fractured than that to me. The whole thing works as an apocalyptic glam suite. Many of the stylings here are 'The Man Who Sold The World' Bowie, right down to the vocal warblings and high-camp melodrama. Song structure is fractured, with sudden asides crashing in for a few seconds to be replaced by a differently arranged piece of music. Acoustic and electric guitars are given equal prominence here, when on some other Amon Düül II records it sounds like they’re fighting it out. 

John Weinzierl’s side two has a track listing I can’t get to grips with as it’s so hopelessly divided and subdivided that following which track is which is nigh on impossible. The music here lurches from Led Zep heavy guitar riffing to eastern European-sounding cross-legged weepy pastorals with no warning. And it works! Oh yes it DOES! Instrumentation is expanded to include sitar, all manner of electronic keyboards and even the odd bit of Liberace piano bashing! Renate sings her heart out in the most heart-wrenching way and some of the guitar picking is exquisite. 

‘The Marilyn Monroe-Memorial-Church’ is undoubtedly the highlight of this set in which Amon Düül II play some of their spaciest kosmische Musik. It sounds like some of the Cosmic Jokers’ quieter and less effects-laden moments or Ash Ra Tempel in drift mode with a dash of 'Affenstunde' bash-freakout. But as it’s Amon Düül II playing it can’t help coming out all autumnal and strangely ritualistic and, well goddamn creepy. The organ is funereal but poignant rather than maudlin. A bass carries us along, occasionally reverbing out so much it sounds like Lothar Meid has suddenly been dropped down a well. A mournful piano suddenly starts to collapse into keyboard abuse, now and then falling into that same well only to be hoisted up and thrown back in. But when the drums kick in your head is taken on a frantic ride. It feels like someone’s put a metal bin on your head and started laying into it with all the fury they can muster. Then it all seems to go down the same plughole that ‘A Day In The Life’ does only to resurface briefly in the same way as Can’s ‘Bel Air’

Side four sounds like out-takes from demo sessions rather than inspired improvisation. ‘Chewing Gum Telegram’ breaks the mood of uneasy calm inspired by ‘The Marilyn Monroe-Memorial-Church’ with its incessant riffing, falling apart like the rehearsal it sounds like all the way through. ‘Stumbling Over Melted Moonlight’ starts off as Pink Floyd’s ‘Sysiphus’, falling into a load of head swaying wibbly guitar onanism to be followed by Floydy organ and metallic tremolo drums. It goes nowhere, then can’t even decide to stay away as it resurfaces for no apparent reason. ‘Toxicological Whispering’ lurches along. Each instrument does its own thing and it really sounds like one of the few things Amon Düül II did where they weren’t listening to each other. There is beauty in the chaos here, though. Although, placed after the first two tracks on this side it’s bound to sound more special than it truly is.

In the notes to his Krautrock Top 50 Julian says: “Of course, this list is not exhaustive and is based on the records that I personally know and love.(…) And if I missed your favourite one out, well excuse me.” Fair enough, but I thought a case should be made for this record as it’s my favourite Amon Düül II release after 'Phallus Dei' and I’m sure there are others out there who have a fond connection to this album too. I personally think side four isn’t even worthy of curiosity value but that still leaves three sides of pretty good Krautrock.  -- Lord Lucan, Head Heritage

review
[-] by Ned Raggett

There aren't many double art-rock albums from the early '70s that have stood the test of time, but then again, there aren't many albums like Tanz, and there certainly aren't many groups like Amon Düül II. While exact agreement over which of their classic albums is the absolute standout may never be reached, in terms of ambition combined with good musicianship and good humor, the group's third album, is probably the best candidate still. The musical emphasis is more on expansive arrangements and a generally gentler, acoustic or soft electric vibe; the brain-melting guitar from Yeti isn't as prominent on Tanz, for example, aside from the odd freakout here and there. You will find lengthy songs divided up into various movements, but with titles like "Dehypnotized Toothpaste" and "Overheated Tiara," po-faced seriousness is left at the door. The music isn't always wacky per se, but knowing that the group can laugh at itself is a great benefit. The first three tracks each take up a side of vinyl on the original release, and all are quite marvelous. "Syntelman's March of the Roaring Seventies" works through a variety of acoustic parts, steering away from folksiness for a more abstract, almost playfully classical sense of space and arrangement, before concluding with a brief jam. "Restless Skylight-Transistor Child" is more fragmented, switching between aggressive (and aggressively weird) and subtle passages. One part features Meid and Knaup singing over an arrangement of guitars, synths and mock choirs that's particularly fine, and quite trippy to boot. "Chamsin Soundtrack" exchanges variety for a slow sense of mystery and menace, with instruments weaving in and out of the mix while never losing the central feel of the song. Three briefer songs close out the record, a nice way to get in some quick grooves at the end.

Such a good album too

oooh

72. THE GROUNDHOGS Thank Christ For The Bomb (2495 Points, 19 Votes)
RYM: #117 for 1970 , #3542 overall
http://cps-static.rovicorp.com/3/JPG_500/MI0001/842/MI0001842021.jpg?partner=allrovi.com
http://open.spotify.com/album/5AnSUP7g2xmTzamSux1F7K
spotify:album:5AnSUP7g2xmTzamSux1F7K

If you dig: Blues Rock, Hard Rock, Prog. Released in 1970 and entered the UK Top 10, marked a further progression in the direction of heavier Rock when the band also added politically and socially charged lyrics.

"Strange Town" starts things off brilliantly as McPhee's wailing guitar bursts into one of the best solos I've yet to hear. The long and half instrumental "Garden" again makes a great use of McPhee's axe while the title track, characterized by acoustic guitar and ambiguous pro/anti-war lyrics, shows that an electric guitar is not a necessity in order to play "heavy," although later on the song does turn into a thunderous jam. Other tracks worth mentioning are "Eccentric Man" and the sophisticated "Soldier." A highly recommended album which is second to none in its intelligence within the Blues Rock genre. -- R. Chelled

Tony McPhee stepped up to the plate with a bunch of powerful, original tunes. As a guitar album it is nonpareil, up there with Television's Marquee Moon and it's raw plangent sonics, uncluttered by effects sound bang up-to-date. -- Woebot

review
[-] by Dave Thompson

Thank Christ for the Bomb was the first Groundhogs album to indicate that the group had a lifespan longer than the already-fading British blues boom suggested. It was also the first in the sequence of semi-conceptual masterpieces that the group cut following their decision to abandon the mellow blues of their earlier works and pursue the socially aware, prog-inflected bent that culminated with 1972's seminal Who Will Save the World? album. They were rewarded with their first ever Top Ten hit and purchasers were rewarded with an album that still packs a visceral punch in and around Tony McPhee's dark, doom-laden lyrics. With the exception of the truly magisterial title track, the nine tracks err on the side of brevity. Only one song, the semi-acoustic "Garden," strays over the five-minute mark, while four more barely touch three-and-one-half minutes. Yet the overall sense of the album is almost bulldozing, and it is surely no coincidence that, engineering alongside McPhee's self-production, Martin Birch came to the Groundhogs fresh from Deep Purple in Rock and wore that experience firmly on his sleeve. Volume and dynamics aside, there are few points of comparison between the two albums -- if the Groundhogs have any direct kin, it would have to be either the similarly three-piece Budgie or a better-organized Edgar Broughton Band. But, just as Deep Purple was advancing the cause of heavy rock by proving that you didn't need to be heavy all the time, so Thank Christ for the Bomb shifts between light and dark, introspection and outspokenness, loud and, well, louder. Even the acoustic guitars can make your ears bleed when they feel like it and, although the anti-war sentiments of "Thank Christ for the Bomb" seem an over-wordy echo of Purple's similarly themed "Child in Time," it is no less effective for it. Elements of Thank Christ for the Bomb do seem overdone today, not the least of which is the title track's opening recitation (a history of 20th century war, would you believe?). But it still has the ability to chill, thrill, and kill any doubts that such long-windiness might evoke, while the truths that were evident to McPhee in 1970 aren't too far from reality today. [Originally issued in 1970, the LP was reissued on CD in 2007 and features bonus tracks.]

wow the great stuff coming thick and heavy now...

as it has been doing for a good while now tbf

So many great albums, so many new things to keep up with.
Betty Davis - Nasty Gal turned out to be great. AG is there any particular Ohio Players album that you would suggest to start with?

Going to give the Popul Vuh album a try too.

Ohio Players are split up into Westbound era (with Junie) I'd say try Pleasure

As for the later stuff any of them in this poll but maybe try Honey

Nice one, thanks.

71. VAN HALEN Van Halen (2506 Points, 18 Votes)
RYM: #16 for 1978 , #711 overall | Acclaimed: #255 | RS: #415 | Pitchfork: #73
http://cps-static.rovicorp.com/3/JPG_500/MI0002/224/MI0002224539.jpg?partner=allrovi.com
http://open.spotify.com/album/7G2PY8yve3Db0PeGsosb4x
spotify:album:7G2PY8yve3Db0PeGsosb4x

For some reason Warners wants us to know that this is the biggest bar band in the San Fernando Valley. This doesn't mean much--all new bands are bar bands, unless they're Boston. The term becomes honorific when the music belongs in a bar. This music belongs on an aircraft carrier. C -- R. Christgau

Mark my words: in three years, Van Halen is going to be fat and self-indulgent and disgusting, and they'll follow Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin right into the toilet. In the meantime, they are likely to be a big deal. Their cover of the Kinks' "You Really Got Me" does everything right, and they have three or four other cuts capable of jumping out of the radio the same way "Feels like the First Time" and "More than a Feeling" did amid all the candyass singer/songwriters and Shaun Cassidy-ass twits.

Van Halen's secret is not doing anything that's original while having the hormones to do it better than all those bands who have become fat and self-indulgent and disgusting. Edward Van Halen has mastered the art of lead/rhythm guitar in the tradition of Jimmy Page and Joe Walsh; several riffs on this record beat anything Aerosmith has come up with in years. Vocalist Dave Lee Roth manages the rare hard-rock feat of infusing the largely forgettable lyrics with energy and not sounding like a castrato at the same time. Drummer Alex Van Halen and bassist Michael Anthony are competent and properly unobtrusive.

These guys also have the good sense not to cut their hair or sing about destroying a hopelessly corrupt society on their first album. That way, hopelessly corrupt radio programmers will play their music. -- Charles M. Young, RS

review
[-] by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

Among revolutionary rock albums, Van Halen's debut often gets short shrift. Although it altered perceptions of what the guitar could do, it is not spoken of in the same reverential tones as Are You Experienced? and although it set the template for how rock & roll sounded for the next decade or more, it isn't seen as an epochal generational shift, like Led Zeppelin, The Ramones, The Rolling Stones, or Never Mind the Bollocks Here's the Sex Pistols, which was released just the year before. But make no mistake, Van Halen is as monumental, as seismic as those records, but part of the reason it's never given the same due is that there's no pretension, nothing self-conscious about it. In the best sense, it is an artless record, in the sense that it doesn't seem contrived, but it's also a great work of art because it's an effortless, guileless expression of what the band is all about, and what it would continue to be over the years. The band did get better, tighter, over the years -- peaking with their sleek masterpiece 1984, where there was no fat, nothing untidy -- but everything was in place here, from the robotic pulse of Michael Anthony and Alex Van Halen, to the gonzo shtick of David Lee Roth to the astonishing guitar of Eddie Van Halen. There may have been antecedents to this sound -- perhaps you could trace Diamond Dave's shuck-n-jive to Black Oak Arkansas' Jim Dandy, the slippery blues-less riffs hearken back to Aerosmith -- but Van Halen, to this day, sounds utterly unprecedented, as if it was a dispatch from a distant star. Some of the history behind the record has become rock lore: Eddie may have slowed down Cream records to a crawl to learn how Clapton played "Crossroads" -- the very stuff legends are made of -- but it's hard to hear Clapton here. It's hard to hear anybody else really, even with the traces of their influences, or the cover of "You Really Got Me," which doesn't seem as if it were chosen because of any great love of the Kinks, but rather because that riff got the crowd going. And that's true of all 11 songs here: they're songs designed to get a rise out of the audience, designed to get them to have a good time, and the album still crackles with energy because of it.

Sheer visceral force is one thing, but originality is another, and the still-amazing thing about Van Halen is how it sounds like it has no fathers. Plenty other bands followed this template in the '80s, but like all great originals Van Halen doesn't seem to belong to the past and it still sounds like little else, despite generations of copycats. Listen to how "Runnin' with the Devil" opens the record with its mammoth, confident riff and realize that there was no other band that sounded this way -- maybe Montrose or Kiss were this far removed from the blues, but they didn't have the down-and-dirty hedonistic vibe that Van Halen did; Aerosmith certainly had that, but they were fueled by blooze and boogie, concepts that seem alien here. Everything about Van Halen is oversized: the rhythms are primal, often simple, but that gives Dave and Eddie room to run wild, and they do. They are larger than life, whether it's Dave strutting, slyly spinning dirty jokes and come-ons, or Eddie throwing out mind-melting guitar riffs with a smile. And of course, this record belongs to Eddie, just like the band's very name does. There was nothing, nothing like his furious flurry of notes on his solos, showcased on "Eruption," a startling fanfare for his gifts. He makes sounds that were unimagined before this album, and they still sound nearly inconceivable. But, at least at this point, these songs were never vehicles for Van Halen's playing; they were true blue, bone-crunching rockers, not just great riffs but full-fledged anthems, like "Jamie's Cryin'," "Atomic Punk," and "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love," songs that changed rock & roll and still are monolithic slabs of rock to this day. They still sound vital, surprising, and ultimately fun -- and really revolutionary, because no other band rocked like this before Van Halen, and it's still a giddy thrill to hear them discover a new way to rock on this stellar, seminal debut.

Fact: I have never heard an entire Van Halen album afaik.

well that's the only one you need to hear all the way through tbf. Even if the kinks cover is inferior to the original.