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

14. BRIAN ENO Here Come the Warm Jets (4575 Points, 29 Votes, 2 #1s)
RYM: #3 for 1974, #206 overall | Acclaimed: #424 | RS: #436 | Pitchfork: #24
http://cps-static.rovicorp.com/3/JPG_500/MI0000/914/MI0000914163.jpg?partner=allrovi.com
http://open.spotify.com/album/74jn28Kr29iyh8eZXSvnwi
spotify:album:74jn28Kr29iyh8eZXSvnwi

The idea of this record--top of the pops from quasi-dadaist British synth wizard--may put you off, but the actuality is quite engaging in a vaguely Velvet Underground kind of way. Minimally differentiated variations on the same melody recur and recur, but it's a great melody, and not the only one, and chances are he meant it that way, as a statement, which I agree with. What's more, words take over when the music falters, and on "Cindy Tells Me" they combine for the best song ever written about middle-class feminism, a rock and roll subject if ever there was one. My major complaint is that at times the artist uses a filter that puts dust on my needle. A -- R. Christgau

Here Come the Warm Jets, Eno's first foray as a solo artist, features sharply crafted, cerebral pop songs that put equal emphasis on quirky music and chatty, surrealistic lyrics — an endearing novelty record with bizarre but affecting songs that no one else could have made. -- Trouser Press

One of the more intriguing developments on today's English rock scene has been the emergence of a cult of marginal musicians bent on doing "weird" things to the traditional pop song format. Be it in the name of being "trendy" (Elton John) or just for the sake of seeming mysterious (Roxy Music), these folks have taken so many liberties with a hackneyed old genre that it frequently ends up sounding quite unlike the early Beatles records which were its foremost representation.

Brian Eno, formerly of Roxy Music, is another one who writes weird songs but their weirdness is more silly than puzzling. Lacking any mentionable instrumental proficiency, he claims he "treats" other musicians' instruments — though the end product of his efforts would have to be classed as indiscernible.

His record is annoying because it doesn't do anything. The songs aren't strong enough individually or collectively to merit more than a passing listen. Save for some incendiary guitar work by Robert Fripp during "Baby's On Fire," the instrumentation is pretty tepid. In fact the whole album may be described as tepid, and the listener must kick himself for blowing five bucks on baloney.

Historians might want to take note of the fact that "Needles in the Camel's Eye" has a heavy Del Shannon influence; that "Some of Them Are Old" is constructed around harmonies highly reminiscent of the Four Freshmen; that the first three songs on side B quote extensively from the Beatles' Abbey Road. Others will hopefully join with this writer in taking exception to this insane divergence of styles and wish that the next time Eno makes an album, he will attempt to structure his work rather than throw together the first ten things that come to mind. -- Gordon Fletcher, RS

“Here Come The Warm Jets’ was the fruit of speculation by all early Roxy Music fans, as to what would emerge from the ashes of Eno’s bitter split from the band. Employing the likes of Phil Manzanera, Andy MacKay, Phil Collins, Morris Pert, John Cale and Robert Fripp (to name a few), the resulting album was one of the most picturesque and imaginative sounding rock albums to date. The myriad of different instruments and sounds made for unusual pop music, but to the ears and the mind it was some of the most stimulating. The title track was the hypnotic instrumental closing the album and every song preceding it was nothing short of brilliant. The classic “Baby’s On Fire” was, indeed, a high point on side 1 with Fripp’s near 3 minute mesmerizing guitar solo. Bookended by songs like “Paw Paw Negro Blowtorch” (about a true story of internal combustion) and “Cindy Tells Me”. Back then, the best part of the album “Here Comes The Warm Jets” was one’s induced anticipation for his 2nd solo album, which would come the following year. 1973 was a great year for Rock music and this album only made it that much more spectacular!  -- Zenbaby, Head Heritage

review
by Steve Huey

Eno's solo debut, Here Come the Warm Jets, is a spirited, experimental collection of unabashed pop songs on which Eno mostly reprises his Roxy Music role as "sound manipulator," taking the lead vocals but leaving much of the instrumental work to various studio cohorts (including ex-Roxy mates Phil Manzanera and Andy Mackay, plus Robert Fripp and others). Eno's compositions are quirky, whimsical, and catchy, his lyrics bizarre and often free-associative, with a decidedly dark bent in their humor ("Baby's on Fire," "Dead Finks Don't Talk"). Yet the album wouldn't sound nearly as manic as it does without Eno's wildly unpredictable sound processing; he coaxes otherworldly noises and textures from the treated guitars and keyboards, layering them in complex arrangements or bouncing them off one another in a weird cacophony. Avant-garde yet very accessible, Here Come the Warm Jets still sounds exciting, forward-looking, and densely detailed, revealing more intricacies with every play.

Wasn't nominated but wasn't not allowed, Tom

one day someone may do a 70s soul poll (not me)

Driving Me Backwards is the best song on HCTWJ. It's apocalyptic, loathing, misanthropic majesty, it's everything being sucked into the Abyss while a grinning Eno watches on. And there's all those lovely pop songs too...

Rallizes made top 20! Oww yeah!

And yes please! to Metal Box as well!

And Riot! (too low)

Actually sean maybe otm wrt Riot

there is a motown/stax poll and a disco poll in the queue for artist polls (yeah I know they're more tracks based polls but maybe there will be albums?)

nah riot should be top 10

the erotic reverie on Les Rallizes Denudes is something I will not explain, nor try to, especially with this much feedback in my ears

But funk is in. Confusing.

you should have nominated Tom (and voted)

aagggghhh title track to Here Come the Warm Jets is one of my favorite songs of all time! it's the embodiment of everything all at once! truly the portal to another dimension if you listen to it at the right time and place.

title-track was an excellent first choice of PA track after the recent Wire gig, which ended with ten minutes of 30 gutarists making white noise

dreamy

you should have nominated Tom (and voted)

What and have Al Green outflanked by the Pink Fairies? No thanks!

there is a motown/stax poll and a disco poll in the queue for artist polls (yeah I know they're more tracks based polls but maybe there will be albums?)

There will definitely be a Stax albums subpoll, can't speak for the others.

13. LED ZEPPELIN Physical Graffiti (4676 Points, 29 Votes, 1 #1)
RYM: #3 for 1975, #124 overall | Acclaimed: #98 | RS: #70 | Pitchfork: #95

I suppose a group whose specialty is excess should be proud to emerge from a double-LP in one piece. But except on side two--comprising three-only-three Zep classics: "Houses of the Holy," "Trampled Under Foot," and the exotic "Kashmir"--they do disperse quite a bit, not into filler and throwaway ("Boogie with Stu" and "Black Country Woman" on side four are fab prefabs) but into wide tracks, misconceived opi, and so forth. Jimmy Page cuts it throughout, but after a while Robert Plant begins to grate--and I like him. B+ -- R. Christgau

Physical Graffiti is Led Zeppelin's bid for artistic respectability. This two-record set, the product of almost two years' labor, is the band's Tommy, Beggar's Banquet and Sgt. Pepper rolled into one.

In a virtual recapitulation of the group's career, Physical Graffiti touches all the bases. There's a blues ("In My Time of Dying") and a cosmic-cum-heavy ballad ("In the Light"); there's an acoustic interlude ("Bron-Y-Aur") and lots of bludgeoning hard rock, still the band's forte ("Houses of the Holy," "The Wanton Song"); there are also hints of Bo Diddley ("Custard Pie"), Burt Bacharach ("Down by the Seaside") and Kool and the Gang ("Trampled under Foot"). If nothing else, Physical Graffiti is a tour de force.

The album's -- and the band's -- mainspring in Jimmy Page, guitarist extraordinaire. His primary concern, both as producer and guitarist, is sound. His playing lacks the lyricism of Eric Clapton, the funk of Jimi Hendrix, the rhythmic flair of Peter Townshend; but of all the virtuoso guitarists of the Sixties, Page, along with Hendrix, has most expanded the instrument's sonic vocabulary.

He has always exhibited a studio musician's knack for functionalism. Unlike many of his peers, he rarely overplays, especially on record. A facile soloist, Page excels at fills, obbligatos and tags. Playing off stock riffs, he modulates sonorities, developing momentum by modifying instrumental colors. To this end, he uses a wide array of effects, including onPhysical Graffiti some echoed slide ("Time of Dying"), a countryish vibrato ("Seaside"), even a swimming, clear tone reminiscent of Lonnie Mack (the solo on "The Rover"). But his signature remains distortion. Avoiding "clean" timbres, Page usually pits fuzzed out overtones against a hugely recorded bottom, weaving his guitar in and out of the total mix, sometimes echoing Robert Plant's contorted screams, sometimes tunneling behind a dryly thudding drum.

Physical Graffiti only confirms Led Zeppelin's preeminence among hard rockers. Although it contains no startling breakthroughs, it does affford an impressive overview of the band's skill. On "Houses of the Holy," Robert Plant's lyrics mesh perfectly with Page's stuttering licks. On "Ten Years Gone," a progression recalling the Beatles' "Dear Prudence" resolves in a beautifully waddling refrain, Page scooping broad and fuzzy chords behind Plant, who sounds a lot like Rod Stewart. Elsewhere, the band trundles out the Marrakech Symphony Orchestra (for "Kashmir"), Ian Stewart's piano and even a mandolin (both for "Boogie with Stu").

Despite some lapses into monotony along the way ("In My Time of Dying," "Kashmir") Physical Graffiti testifies to Page's taste and Led Zeppelin's versatility. Taken as a whole, it offers an astonishing variety of music, produced impeccably by Page. On Physical Graffiti, Led Zeppelin performs rock with creativity, wit and undeniable impact.

They have forged an original style, and they have grown within it; they have rooted their music in hard-core rock & roll, and yet have gone beyond it. They may not be the greatest rock band of the Seventies. But after seven years, five platinum albums and now Physical Graffiti, the world's most popular rock band must be counted among them. -- Jim Miller, RS

While Led Zeppelin could never be blamed for the macho homogeneity of the heavy metal they inspired, Physical Graffiti was an album of truly ambitious scope and lusty abandon. The sixth Zeppelin album, and the first on their own Swan Song label, Physical Graffiti has a nomadic spirit, consisting of sessions interrupted by a bout of illness on John Paul Jones' part and their inability to find a free studio for any length of time.

Its four sides of vinyl allowed Zep to experiment at length. The innovative die-cut sleeve (each window revealing an image printed on the inner sleeve) housed raw, rootsy rock 'n' roll ("Boogie With Stu"), precious folk minatures ("Bron-Yr-Aur"), funk-metal ("Trampled Underfoot"), mordant prog ("In The Light"), and giddy pop ("Down By The Seaside").

Inspired by Page and Plant's recent trip to Morocco, the colossal "Kashmir" was a shuddering beast of faux-mysticism and exotica, John Paul Jones' droning synth-strings forming modal melodies as John Bonham pounded away, monolithically. Epic jam "In My Time Of Dying," written as they recorded it, was a blur of Jimmy Page's murderous slide-guitar, the band roaring like a force of nature (a clear influence on The White Stripes). "Ten Years Gone" was the most surprising -- a touching, sentimental lament from Robert Plant for the love he left to join the band -- Page's closing solo proving how tender Zeppelin could be, when they deigned.

Physical Graffiti is Led Zeppelin's last true peak, and remains a truly dizzying achievement. -- Stevie Chick, 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

13. LED ZEPPELIN Physical Graffiti (4676 Points, 29 Votes, 1 #1)
RYM: #3 for 1975, #124 overall | Acclaimed: #98 | RS: #70 | Pitchfork: #95
http://proox.biz/files/images/graffiti.jpg

I suppose a group whose specialty is excess should be proud to emerge from a double-LP in one piece. But except on side two--comprising three-only-three Zep classics: "Houses of the Holy," "Trampled Under Foot," and the exotic "Kashmir"--they do disperse quite a bit, not into filler and throwaway ("Boogie with Stu" and "Black Country Woman" on side four are fab prefabs) but into wide tracks, misconceived opi, and so forth. Jimmy Page cuts it throughout, but after a while Robert Plant begins to grate--and I like him. B+ -- R. Christgau

Physical Graffiti is Led Zeppelin's bid for artistic respectability. This two-record set, the product of almost two years' labor, is the band's Tommy, Beggar's Banquet and Sgt. Pepper rolled into one.

In a virtual recapitulation of the group's career, Physical Graffiti touches all the bases. There's a blues ("In My Time of Dying") and a cosmic-cum-heavy ballad ("In the Light"); there's an acoustic interlude ("Bron-Y-Aur") and lots of bludgeoning hard rock, still the band's forte ("Houses of the Holy," "The Wanton Song"); there are also hints of Bo Diddley ("Custard Pie"), Burt Bacharach ("Down by the Seaside") and Kool and the Gang ("Trampled under Foot"). If nothing else, Physical Graffiti is a tour de force.

The album's -- and the band's -- mainspring in Jimmy Page, guitarist extraordinaire. His primary concern, both as producer and guitarist, is sound. His playing lacks the lyricism of Eric Clapton, the funk of Jimi Hendrix, the rhythmic flair of Peter Townshend; but of all the virtuoso guitarists of the Sixties, Page, along with Hendrix, has most expanded the instrument's sonic vocabulary.

He has always exhibited a studio musician's knack for functionalism. Unlike many of his peers, he rarely overplays, especially on record. A facile soloist, Page excels at fills, obbligatos and tags. Playing off stock riffs, he modulates sonorities, developing momentum by modifying instrumental colors. To this end, he uses a wide array of effects, including onPhysical Graffiti some echoed slide ("Time of Dying"), a countryish vibrato ("Seaside"), even a swimming, clear tone reminiscent of Lonnie Mack (the solo on "The Rover"). But his signature remains distortion. Avoiding "clean" timbres, Page usually pits fuzzed out overtones against a hugely recorded bottom, weaving his guitar in and out of the total mix, sometimes echoing Robert Plant's contorted screams, sometimes tunneling behind a dryly thudding drum.

Physical Graffiti only confirms Led Zeppelin's preeminence among hard rockers. Although it contains no startling breakthroughs, it does affford an impressive overview of the band's skill. On "Houses of the Holy," Robert Plant's lyrics mesh perfectly with Page's stuttering licks. On "Ten Years Gone," a progression recalling the Beatles' "Dear Prudence" resolves in a beautifully waddling refrain, Page scooping broad and fuzzy chords behind Plant, who sounds a lot like Rod Stewart. Elsewhere, the band trundles out the Marrakech Symphony Orchestra (for "Kashmir"), Ian Stewart's piano and even a mandolin (both for "Boogie with Stu").

Despite some lapses into monotony along the way ("In My Time of Dying," "Kashmir") Physical Graffiti testifies to Page's taste and Led Zeppelin's versatility. Taken as a whole, it offers an astonishing variety of music, produced impeccably by Page. On Physical Graffiti, Led Zeppelin performs rock with creativity, wit and undeniable impact.

They have forged an original style, and they have grown within it; they have rooted their music in hard-core rock & roll, and yet have gone beyond it. They may not be the greatest rock band of the Seventies. But after seven years, five platinum albums and now Physical Graffiti, the world's most popular rock band must be counted among them. -- Jim Miller, RS

While Led Zeppelin could never be blamed for the macho homogeneity of the heavy metal they inspired, Physical Graffiti was an album of truly ambitious scope and lusty abandon. The sixth Zeppelin album, and the first on their own Swan Song label, Physical Graffiti has a nomadic spirit, consisting of sessions interrupted by a bout of illness on John Paul Jones' part and their inability to find a free studio for any length of time.

Its four sides of vinyl allowed Zep to experiment at length. The innovative die-cut sleeve (each window revealing an image printed on the inner sleeve) housed raw, rootsy rock 'n' roll ("Boogie With Stu"), precious folk minatures ("Bron-Yr-Aur"), funk-metal ("Trampled Underfoot"), mordant prog ("In The Light"), and giddy pop ("Down By The Seaside").

Inspired by Page and Plant's recent trip to Morocco, the colossal "Kashmir" was a shuddering beast of faux-mysticism and exotica, John Paul Jones' droning synth-strings forming modal melodies as John Bonham pounded away, monolithically. Epic jam "In My Time Of Dying," written as they recorded it, was a blur of Jimmy Page's murderous slide-guitar, the band roaring like a force of nature (a clear influence on The White Stripes). "Ten Years Gone" was the most surprising -- a touching, sentimental lament from Robert Plant for the love he left to join the band -- Page's closing solo proving how tender Zeppelin could be, when they deigned.

Physical Graffiti is Led Zeppelin's last true peak, and remains a truly dizzying achievement. -- Stevie Chick, 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Don't know if it's my copy but that album sounds like pure sludge whenever I play it - I thought Jimmy Page was supposed to be good at this production lark!

Was In The Jungle Groove nommed in this here thing?

too high.

Oh also let me take this opportunity to say that the opening notes of On Some Faraway Beach have always reminded me of the opening notes of 70s classic rock staple Still the Same (which apparently peaked at #4 in 78).

12. THE GROUNDHOGS Split (4753 Points, 33 Votes, 1 #1)
RYM: #78 for 1971, #1852 overall
http://lossless-galaxy.ru/uploads/posts/2009-12/1260205153_groundhogs_-_split_a.jpg
http://open.spotify.com/album/6msxjPbPwh0NXtQJR71JsS
spotify:album:6msxjPbPwh0NXtQJR71JsS

The Groundhogs stretched their success with their next album -- Split. This album kept up with the same musical trajectory previous work has started, but this time focused on Schizophrenia as its main theme. The sound is a bit more grungy and murky, springing to life fantastic Fuzz guitar. The four tracks on side 1 are just numbered 1-4 and really invoke the concept which Split sets to create while the uptempto "Cherry Red" of side 2 became the band's biggest hit ever. This album went into the Top 10 as well. R. Chelled

In the post-Hendrix fallout of the aimless, wandering early '70s, only the Groundhogs harnessed the fury of lost '60s Dream idealism in order to capture on record their very own pre-punk onslaught. Many of the British groups such as Juicy Lucy and Sandoz turned to the post-blues of Zappa and Beefheart for inspiration, but nowadays the results sound as contrived as their mentors; overly intellectual and, ultimately, stridently un-British. London squats of 1971 resounded to the fakery of bogus Delta blues singers, as though only a desert twang could infuse rock'n'roll with a truthful alienation. But, like the obscure genius of London's short-lived Third World War, Tony McPhee's Groundhogs proved that this need not be the case at all, and Split is the album that provided the main body of evidence. This album of paranoid delusion and post-drug trauma was seen by its author as a straight account of a real event. As he said at the time: "I seemed to lose my entire personality … I never talked to anyone, because nothing seemed to be worth saying … I don't reach any conclusions - it's just … what happened, that's all." Both musically and lyrically, Split speaks for a lost time, a nomad time when ideals took to the hoof and musicians stayed on the road rather than confront the fact that the '60s 'war' had been lost. 

Unlike other contemporary bands, economy of notes was not part of the Groundhogs agenda. On Split, more than any other Groundhogs album, they played in a shamanic whirling that shattered and scattered the beat around in several directions at once. The frenzied drumming of Ken Pustelnik reduced the kit to the role of moronic streetgang defenseless against one lone Kung Fu hero. Stun-guitars wah-wah'd and ricochet'd at random against concrete walls, leaving passers by mortally wounded but deliriously happy. Even Pete Cruickshank's bass, that one remaining anchor, was no anchor at all, but a freebass undermining the entire structure. As McPhee explained in a Zigzag interview of the time:

"[Ken] just wallops everything in sight and sometimes I lose him completely. Like I often come back in during a solo and can't work out where he is - so I just have to play a note and let it feed back until I can find my way back in. And Pete doesn't help either, because he's all over the place and he follows me rather than Ken … so when we fall apart, we really fall apart."

The brutal honesty of this quote showcases Tony McPhee's determination to follow his muse to the end. His singing is confused and compassionate, dazed and un-macho at a time of hoot'n'holler chest beating. And despite the wonder-fuelled strengths of Split's first side, each song is reduced to the anonymity of mere numbers: "Split 1", "Split 2", "Split 3" and "Split 4". Yet each is complete and each is anything but anonymous. The furious "Split 1" careers through its description of McPhee's "suicidal derangement" as he termed it with murderous bass and wah guitar interplaying. "Split 2" de-tunes itself into awesome/awful life with a chasm guitar riff that snare shatters into a tearing riff account of McPhee leaping out of bed in black hole terror, before the floor of the room gives way and he ends: "I must get help before I go insane". Ghost Hammond organ chords punctuate the ends of this piece. Song 3 is a chiming clean bell-tone blues which breaks off into formidable noise rock and tears the roof of the sucker, before "Split 4" sees the singer get "down on his knees and pray to the sun". The heathen one-chord flailing of this song is occasionally interrupted by more squeezy wah, but the highway blues riffs and car crash guitars see the track open out into a wide blue horizon'd escape, before McPhee's distorto-feedback bursts into flames like Barry Newman's Dodge Challenger at the end of Vanishing Point.

Side Two opens with their most famous song of all: "Cherry Red". Another sonic clatterwail in the Groundhogs' more-is-more/hit-everything methodology, the propellant bass and plate-spinning cymbals undermine ernie-ernie guitars and a vocal, which shifts from alpha male to soul castrato. McPhee's guitars swallow the rhythm section whole, then he undermines us all by becoming his own female backing singer.

The dark ages ballad that is "A Year in the Life" grubs around in the soil like low church bell-ringers on vacation from Black Sabbath's first album sleeve. Invention and dignity and mystery. "Junkman" is insane. A ramshackle Fall-type Steptoe & Sonic boom of a song, which veers into staccato Guru Guru stop-start, before collapsing into freeform slide-toilet bowl FX guitar for several minutes. Then we hit the last song of all, a blues standard called "Groundhog Blues", approached with the same attitude that inhabited their Blues Obituary album. Drums are here reduced to cardboard box/frontporch patterstomp like Beefheart's "China Pig", while McPhee's blues is a sorrow-drowning greysky of seagull guitars. Split falls to the ground in a massively underplayed style - as though Evel Knievel had chosen to mount a unicycle for the three-minute encore of his hour-long 1000cc show. That's confidence. -- J. Cope

The fourth Groundhogs album is probably their heaviest -- not necessarily measured by the lowing of their low end, but in terms of the mood and subject matter. McPhee became a troubled figure between the previous album and this one -- insular to the point of silence. "My mind and body are two things, not one," from 'Split: Part Three' (the first side of the LP was a four-part title track) is perhaps the crucial lyric in what amounts to a damn notepad of couch confessions. The doomy intro to 'Split: Part Three' shares consecrated ground with 'Black Sabbath', the song, and musically you get the impression the lads might have seen some potential in their high drama; likewise, the disassembled blues of Captain Beefheart. The arrangements get ever more tricksy over these 40 minutes or so, the slide guitar outbursts more wailing -- 'Split: Part Four' exemplifies this even before the free-rock guitar detonation at the end. (It also has a verse where McPhee attempts to hedge his bets by adhering to Islam and Christianity at the same time.)

'Cherry Red', with which Split side two kicks off, is one of those songs that you probably know better than you think you do. It isn't empirically obvious why it's become their best known song, but there's definitely something to be said for getting a bit aled up and nodding, nodding dog-like, to a cyclical bassline which pays no attention to the guitar doing its wrecking ball act over the top. 'A Year In The Life' (was everything that sounded a bit like a Beatles songtitle assumed to be a Beatles reference at the time, I wonder to no-one in particular?) is more of that prototypical Sabbathian gloomery; 'Junkman' is a genuinely weird shift between pensive jangle and antisocial FX buggery which Julian Cope has accurately described as "like the flushing of an electric toilet". Their old mucker John Lee Hooker is hat-tipped at the end via a wheeze through his 'Groundhog Blues', the source of their name. It's faithful but fugly, sounding uncomfortably close and distorted; if written music was the written word, this would be full of missed apostrophes and unnecessary full stops. A fitting enough ending for an album that consistently prickles you one way or another. -- Noel Gardner, The Quietus

[Removed Illegal Image]

I like that album but that is ridiculously high

dj mencap write-up = intrigued, although i'm surprised he says that about beefheart

amg

review
[-] by Mike DeGagne

As the Groundhogs' best example of their gritty blues-rock fire and unique form of guitar-driven music, Split reveals more about Tony McPhee's character, perseverance, and pure love for performing this style of blues than any other album. Based around the misunderstanding and mystery of schizophrenia, Split takes a raw, bottom-heavy recipe of spirited, spunky guitar riffs (some of the best that McPhee has ever played) and attaches them to some well-maintained and intelligently written songs. The first four tracks are simply titled "Part One" to "Part Four" and instantly enter Split's eccentric, almost bizarre conceptual realm, but it's with "Cherry Red" that the album's full blues flavor begins to seep through, continuing into enigmatic but equally entertaining tracks like "A Year in the Life" and the mighty finale, entitled "Groundhog." Aside from McPhee's singing, there's a noticeable amount of candor in Peter Cruickshank's baggy, unbound percussion, which comes across as aimless and beautifully messy in order to complement the blues-grunge feel of the album. Murky, fuzzy, and wisely esoteric, Split harbors quite a bit of energy across its eight tracks, taking into consideration that so much atmosphere and spaciousness is conjured up by only three main instruments. This album, along with 1972's Who Will Save the World?, are regarded as two of the strongest efforts from the Groundhogs, but Split instills a little bit more of McPhee's vocal passion and dishes out slightly stronger portions of his guitar playing to emphasize the album's theme.

ahhh, didn't see the J. Cope bit. lawlz

Groundhogs?!

OK, this is officially one wacky poll! (fuck Rolling Stone etc.)

"Junkman" is insane. A ramshackle Fall-type Steptoe & Sonic boom of a song, which veers into staccato Guru Guru stop-start, before collapsing into freeform slide-toilet bowl FX guitar for several minutes.

AKA a piece of crap to you and me

Split is a brilliant album

Are you sure you're counting these up right?

Seandalai tabulates my polls not me

I have never even heard of the Groundhogs! Sign of a good poll imo.

famous fans include John Peel (natch), Josh Homme, Stephen Malkmus,Julian Cope, Karl Hyde (of underworld)

Groundhogs are cool and all, but it never would've occurred to me they'd make the top 12, much less the top 100.

Mark E. Smith too? (xp)

power of campaigning

If you like Groundhogs, you'll probably really like Captain Beyond's s/t record, which does similar-ish things a little better (mind you this is after 1 Groundhogs track, the damn thing's probably about to engulf me)

Split is way better than that

11. CAN Ege Bamyasi (4826 Points, 33 Votes, 1 #1)
RYM: #8 for 1972, #130 overall | Acclaimed: #759 | Pitchfork: #19
http://moole.ru/uploads/posts/2009-04/1238872332_1.1.jpg
http://open.spotify.com/album/5qGj4yVyEMdOqcreJmJS60
spotify:album:5qGj4yVyEMdOqcreJmJS60

Ege Bamyasi is a tighter, more sophisticated version of Tago Mago, though it lacks some of the earlier album's sense of excitement. The group integrates textures, rhythms and experiments into an almost jazz-like form on the two longer pieces, while also producing more concise songs of lyrical beauty like "Sing Swan Song" and "I'm So Green." One of Can's best. -- Trouser Press

Weird and radical innovation, that still sounds bizarre twenty odd years on! In contrast (in fact in contrast with each other) the other two albums to feature Damo were, on the whole, less extreme: EGE BAMYASI with a collection of mostly shorter accessible songs, though still odd and uniquely Can, unexpectedly breaking-out with the wild avant-garde 10 minute "Soup" on the second side. -- Cosmic Egg

Ege Bamyasi was the closest to a pop LP that Can ever got. That's not to say that it is pop, but there are at least clear cut songs with grooves of delightful melody and moment, plus a teen-appeal that still leaves me gasping with love for Damo Suzuki. Ege Bamyasi opens with the percussive rush of 'Pinch', nine minutes of groove in which the whole group seems to stand around the direction of Jaki Leibezeit's fury of drumming. Only Damo's vocal monologue edges out of the taut melee and one of the group hangs a hook on his vocals with a retarded but ultra-catchy mechanical bird-whistle. 'Sing Swan Song' follows in its devotional mid-tempo wake, like a fast funeral barge rowed by warriors, sculling to the music. Damo's vocals are breathily soaring and always his half English sounding, half-unconscious lyrical pronouncements end in the words '...Sing Swan Song' to give the strong impression of something divine being lost. 'One More Night' completes Side 1's drum-led groove down a narrow alley where one chord is enough for Damo to coo "One more Saturday night, one more suck o' your head" over and over. Behind him, the most sexual ethereality enfolds the listener, as Suicidey distantness sends him to sleep.

The bedroom mood continues on to Side 2 with the pleading chorus of "Hey you, you're losing, you're losing, you're losing, you're losing your Vitamin C." Again the drums clatter and bounce as Holger Czukay’s abrupt bass scatters hard low percussives into the arena. The album is then cut in half by the wild trance-funk of 'Soup', a 10-minute freakout back in Tago Mago land. I didn't love it as a 14-year old except for its ability to empty rooms. Harmonically, I wish now that it were at the end of the album, but what a fucking carve up. When Damo starts raving like Kevin Rowland from Dexy's it gets really funny. Then it's into 'I'm So Green', my favourite-ever Can song. This light breeze of a song is so flimsy that it threatens to blow away at any minute. Here's where the David Cassidy comparisons compare most favourably. And then 'Spoon' closes Ege Bamyasi with just about the most unusual "Making love in the afternoon" hit song of all time. This was the first Can LP I bought brand new (Torquay 1972) and it is still my favourite.  -- J. Cope

By far the most canonized (yar) of the Krautrock bands, and for good reason. Two students of Stockhausen (Holger Czukay and Irmin Schmidt) were shaken out of their avant-garde snobbery and introduced to leading-edge pop music (“I am the Walrus,” Hendrix, Mothers of Invention, Captain Beefheart, Velvet Underground) by Czukay’s 19 year-old student, Michael Karoli. Black American sculptor and teacher Malcolm Mooney applied his untrained vocals with utter abandon. Monster Movie (1969) was an excellent debut that built upon their influences, taking the first step towards defining their sound. Mooney freaked out and left the country, and Can found a new singer in Japanese street busker Damo Suzuki. Soundtracks (1970) features the often-covered “Mother Sky.” Tago Mago (1971) is considered by many as their peak. Chaotic and tribal, it can be difficult listening. Ege Bamyasi is to Tago Mago like Beefheart’s Lick My Decals Off, Baby was to Troutmaskreplica—more focused, concise, better. -- Fastnbulbous

review
[-] by Ned Raggett

The follow-up to Tago Mago is only lesser in terms of being shorter; otherwise the Can collective delivers its expected musical recombination act with the usual power and ability. Liebezeit, at once minimalist and utterly funky, provides another base of key beat action for everyone to go off on -- from the buried, lengthy solos by Karoli on "Pinch" to the rhythm box/keyboard action on "Spoon." The latter song, which closes the album, is particularly fine, its sound hinting at an influence on everything from early Ultravox songs like "Hiroshima Mon Amour" to the hollower rhythms on many of Gary Numan's first efforts. Liebezeit and Czukay's groove on "One More Night," calling to mind a particularly cool nightclub at the end of the evening, shows that Stereolab didn't just take the brain-melting crunch side of Can as inspiration. The longest track, "Soup," lets the band take off on another one of its trademark lengthy rhythm explorations, though not without some tweaks to the expected sound. About four minutes in, nearly everything drops away, with Schmidt and Liebezeit doing the most prominent work; after that, it shifts into some wonderfully grating and crumbling keyboards combined with Suzuki's strange pronouncements, before ending with a series of random interjections from all the members. Playfulness abounds as much as skill: Slide whistles trade off with Suzuki on "Pinch"; squiggly keyboards end "Vitamin C"; and rollicking guitar highlights "I'm So Green." The underrated and equally intriguing sense of drift that the band brings to its recordings continues as always. "Sing Swan Song" is particularly fine, a gentle float with Schmidt's keyboards and Czukay's bass taking the fore to support Suzuki's sing-song vocal.

Locked in for the finale as long as my browser doesn't crash.

Pete Hook ('nother G'Hog fan)

oh yeah, Split Part 2 is the shit. liking this plenty

I hope somewhere there's a Groundhogs tribute band called Minced Pig

WARM JETSSSSSS! My #1. Homer simpson was right: "rock" music did attain perfection in 1974. Eno's incarnation as reptilian sexpot demigod = one of the happier occurences on this wretched planet.

aagggghhh title track to Here Come the Warm Jets is one of my favorite songs of all time! it's the embodiment of everything all at once! truly the portal to another dimension if you listen to it at the right time and place.

― and that sounds like a gong-concert (La Lechera), Thursday, 28 March 2013 18:27 (13 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

title-track was an excellent first choice of PA track after the recent Wire gig, which ended with ten minutes of 30 gutarists making white noise

― delete (imago), Thursday, 28 March 2013 18:28 (12 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

dreamy

― and that sounds like a gong-concert (La Lechera), Thursday, 28 March 2013 18:29 (12 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

OTMFM. For about a decade now I've had a ~vibes~ DJ set existing in my head for which title track is the closer.

imago also otm re driving me backwards, but the whole album is pretty misanthropic! Like "cindy tells me" is actually a pretty shitty take on "middle-class feminism" (don't pay attention to eno telling you not to pay attention to the meanings of these songs) but that's part of its power, a scabrous bourgeois sneer wrapped in an almost-pretty package.

EGE BAMYASI! My #10, best can.

predictions for the top 10 everyone?

lets see who gets the closest!

still no space ritual. would have though it was a top ten impossibility but if groundhogs can take 12....

Make them now as im eating my dinner. will post #10 in 10 mins

o space ritual will most probably be top 5