Author: Pete Whelan

Prior to the release of Raw Power, the Stooges had hit the end of the road – after two genre defining classic albums, they had had broken up and burnt out by virtue of the primordial fire that had caused them to shine so brightly to begin with. Cue David Bowie: just like he had extended his bejazzled hand to Lou Reed after the demise of the Velvet Underground, Bowie signed Iggy Pop to his management company and secured him a record deal with Columbia. The album that they produced was Raw Power. Featuring new lead guitarist James Williamson, former lead guitarist Ron Asheton on bass and his brother Scott Asheton on drums, the Stooges were as hungry and depraved as ever. Raw Power was produced by Iggy and recorded in one day on primitive equipment in an outdated studio. Despite the energetic performances and inspired new material, Columbia refused to issue Iggy’s original mixes, insisting that Bowie remix the album first. Bowie’s mixes drew a lot of criticism from the Stooges’ hardcore fans for neutering the signature troglodyte groove of their drums and guitars but the album became a classic nonetheless, inspiring a wave of seventies punk and heavy metal despite modest sales. The Sex Pistols’ axe man Steve Jones has claimed that he learned guitar by taking copious amounts of speed and playing along to Raw Power. In 1997 Iggy Pop was invited to remix the album for its re-release, restoring much of the wildness and grit of his original vision. This release includes both mixes – a side by side examination reveals Iggy’s mix as a more satisfying (and much louder!) albeit less dynamic listening experience. This audiophila is all by-the-by though – this record was never meant to be perfect. Raw Power gave Iggy and the Stooges a new lease on life and forever changed the landscape of rock n roll, often being labeled as a pivotal proto punk record. Pop’s declaration that he is a “street walking cheetah with a heart full of napalm” is a call to arms that has echoed in bars and bedrooms, frightening parents and teachers since 1973 and that’s what the Stooges are all about. Play this one loud!

Astral Weeks is a singular album in Van Morrison’s discography and indeed in the pantheon of classic rock albums in which it is often included. Owing little to the blues and soul that have often defined Morrison’s sound, here he instead uses a palate of Celtic folk and jazz to weave a hypnotic soundscape of the earthly and the divine driven by the excavation of memories of his native Belfast. This was Morrison’s first record for Warner who had purchased his contract from his previous label Bang. Stipulated in the fine-print of this deal was a clause dictating that Bang would receive fifty percent of the publishing royalties for any Van Morrison singles released in 1968. This, perhaps, is why there are no singles from Astral Weeks. Instead, it is often referred to as a song cycle and indeed, the rich textures of each song are only enhanced by their inclusion in the tapestry of this album. Morrison’s vocals here are so expressive, sometimes pained and sometimes jubilant; sometimes rooted in nostalgia and often wordlessly channeling the strange mysticism that inhabits Astral Weeks. Van’s wayward guitar strumming and the violins and flutes that drift in and out all pivot around the mesmerising bass playing of Richard Davis to create an atmosphere that feels a thousand years old. Key moments include the title track and Madame George but this record is strongest as a whole. As Van sings in Astral Weeks’ opening lyric, let him venture in the slip stream, through the viaducts of your dream.

Shuggie Otis – a precocious multi-instrumentalist and son of legendary rhythm and blues bandleader Johnny Otis – was fifteen years old he played bass on Frank Zappa’s Peaches en Regalia. At sixteen he released his debut album Here Comes Shuggie Otis and by seventeen he had released his sophomore album, 1971’s Freedom Flight. Best known for Strawberry Letter no. 23 – famously inspired by his girlfriend’s disposition for scented stationary – the song was covered by the Brothers Johnson in a Quincy Jones produced, platinum selling effort and has appeared sporadically in pop culture ever since. While Strawberry Letter is decidedly the album’s crown jewel, Freedom Flight has a veritable smorgasbord of funky delights to offer. Sweet Thang is sinuous, swampy R&B with a texture as rich and thick as molasses. The thirteen minute title-track verges on free jazz – the gentle ebb and flow of the rhythm section nudging the conversational duel between guitar and saxophone into the ecstatic. Meanwhile, the barnstorming album opener, Ice Cold Daydream, is adorned with lashings of Wah Wah guitar over a throw-down rock n roll beat, suggesting the influence of Jimi Hendrix on the young Shuggie. Although he plays all the instruments on Freedom Flight, Otis’ guitar playing is virtuosic. Veering between soul, jazz, funk, rock n roll and the blues, many of Freedom Flight’s most transcendent moments hang on the sheer vitality of the Shuggie’s playing. After releasing the excellent Inspiration Information three years later in 1974, Otis entered a period of self imposed exile from the music industry at twenty-two years old, appearing on only a handful of sessions until re-emerging in 2014. Shuggie’s musical output from fifteen to twenty two is remarkable, achieving the kind of growth and output in a few short years that most artists spend their lives chasing. Freedom Flight is a remarkable record – a great introduction to Shuggie’s genius and a valuable insight into the depth and scope of his vision.

Metallica’s 1991 self titled album, dubbed “the Black Album” by fans for its iconic black sleeve, thrust Metallica and heavy metal into the mainstream. At the time it served as a critical counterpoint to the cock rock that dominated the charts, led by the likes of Bon Jovi and Def Leppard. Metallica’s previous four albums had set the metal world on fire, a series of thundering thrash metal records that helped revolutionise the genre, however in order to achieve the commercial success that they had sniffed with their previous record …And Justice For All, their creative process would need to shift. To facilitate this change, Metallica enlisted the services of producer Bob Rock – previously the fastidious producer of Bon Jovi and Mötley Crüe. As one might imagine, this decision drew a considerable amount of controversy from Metallica’s core fan base. Would Bob Rock dilute the mighty Metallica into another flouncy commercial rock band? Were they selling out? While the Black album did mark a shift away from speed metal and prog-influenced arrangements, the muscular riffs and powerful grooves that had always defined the band remained very much intact. The songwriting here is more succinct and Bob Rock’s sonic contributions make the album feel huge. Metallica compromised just enough to storm the pop charts while retaining their heavy metal DNA. The album was an enormous commercial success. It is currently the highest selling album ever in the United States and debuted at number 1 all over the world. Album highlights include Enter Sandman, Nothing Else Matters, Sad But True and Wherever I May Roam. Did Metallica sell out? As then-bass player Jason Newsted once quipped, “Yes, we sell out: every seat in the house, every time we play, anywhere we play.”

A year after the release of their debut Definitely Maybe in 1994, Oasis released their sophomore offering (What’s the Story) Morning Glory to much fanfare, hitting number one on the album charts in ten countries, garnering fifteen platinum certifications from the British Phonographic Industry and eventually becoming the highest selling British album of the Nineties. Following this outrageous success came daily tabloid appearances for the Gallagher brothers, frequent comparisons to the Beatles, the crystallisation of the Britpop genre and the explosion of independent rock n’ roll. Underneath all this hype and bravado, though, is a meticulous and heartfelt album that is built on great songwriting. Noel Gallagher’s ability to write melodic, soaring chorus lines made Wonderwall, Don’t Look Back in Anger and Champagne Supernova into anthemic, monster hits that are tender and introspective but not at all out of place in a drunken pub singalong either. The production is certainly more polished and nuanced than Definitely Maybe, giving Gallagher’s songs the depth and size that they need to soar. Underneath the mammoth ballads on this record it’s easy to forget that Oasis are a great rock n roll band too – Hello, Roll With It, Hey Now and She’s Electric all sizzle with urgency and electricity, taking cues from T Rex, the Rolling Stones and of course, the Beatles. Oasis have always worn their influences on their sleeve but rock has long been a culture populated by musical bowerbirds. So much on this record is shaped by what came before it, but conversely, Morning Glory also shaped everything that came after.

“Don’t you know there ain’t no Devil? That’s just God when he’s drunk.” Rasps Tom Waits in Heartattack and Vine’s title track. Here we find Waits deep in his element, hollering and spitting barroom melodrama that boils over with tough-guy bravado, lounge lizard cool and more tall tales than you can poke a drunken piano at. Waits’ bluesman-meets-hobo-meets-beatnik routine seems cliched until you realise that there is nobody quite like him – he is a master of constructing environments and subverting expectations – perhaps the greatest bullshit artist rock n’ roll has ever known. On Heartattack and Vine we find one of Waits’ biggest hits, Jersey Girl, a ballad written for his then-sweetheart, now wife and collaborator Kathleen Brennan. Jersey Girl caught the ear of a young Bruce Springsteen who covered it as a B-side to his top ten hit Cover Me and has since used it as a staple of his live performances, exposing Waits to a mainstream audience – Heartattack and Vine would become Waits’ most commercially successful album until 1999’s Mule Variations. Album highlights include the scowling title track, the freewheeling abandon of Mr. Siegel, the sentimental lilt of Jersey Girl and the laid back sleaze of the instrumental In Shades. This record is the soundtrack to an evening in a smoky bar and all of the strange and beautiful possibilities that await within. If you’re new to Tom Waits this is a great place to start.

By the end of the 70’s the Stones, for the first time since they debuted, found themselves with something to prove. Disco and punk had exploded into the mainstream and the music press was increasingly branding the stars of the 60’s and early 70’s as dinosaurs. The band hadn’t released a cultural milestone since 1972’s Exile on Main Street and the departure of guitarist Mick Taylor had left a hole in their sound, the distinctive brand of musical alchemy that he had brought to the band unable to be replicated by the parade of guest players featured on their albums since. Mick Jagger’s fascination with the cult of celebrity and frequent appearances in the tabloids had begun to tarnish the band’s outlaw image and Keith Richards’ arrest for possession in Canada saw him facing seven years in prison, throwing the future of the band into question. Somehow, instead of being the Stones’ death knell, Some Girls gave them their first classic album since Exile, returned them to cultural relevance and managed to crystallise all that had beset them into a fresh sound that kept their blues rock roots at its core. Miss You, the album’s monster hit, fused the pulsing groove of disco with the grinding blues harmonica and slinky guitar that was so key to the band’s sound. Beast of Burden saw the band pen their first hit ballad since Angie and Far Away Eyes revealed that the Stones could really play country music when they wanted to, albeit in a tongue in cheek way. The full time addition of ex-Faces guitarist Ron Wood revitalises the arrangements, his counter-rhythms and stinging lead fusing with Keith Richards’ playing to fill the album with luscious, full guitar textures. Some Girls was a huge hit, asserted that the Stones still had plenty to say and began a new chapter in the sordid history of the world’s greatest rock n’ roll band.

Unplugged in New York was released shortly after Kurt Cobain’s death in 1994. Their label DCG and the surviving members of Nirvana had originally planned to release a live anthology called Verse Chorus Verse, however the mammoth task of sifting through years worth of live performances so soon after Kurt’s death proved too emotionally taxing a prospect. Instead, the group offered Unplugged in New York to a mourning public. The stripped back, intimate nature of the set and Cobain’s easy candour between songs serve to highlight the intense bursts of emotion scattered throughout, the most electrifying of which ends the version of Leadbelly’s Where Did You Sleep Last Night, the final song and unquestionable emotional climax of the record. MTV were reportedly unhappy with the set list because it was too light on Nirvana’s hits – instead the band played an eclectic set heavy on covers – David Bowie’s The Man Who Sold the Wold, a handful of Meat Puppets tunes and the aforementioned Where Did You Sleep Last Night. Retrospectively, the set list seems apt – a thoughtfully curated selection of songs that many speculate offered a glimpse into where Nirvana’s sound was heading. Sadly, we never got to find out. Rolling Stone wrote that Cobain could have “revolutionized folk music the same way he had rock.” Unplugged in New York is a fitting epitaph to Cobain’s legacy – full of light and darkness, offbeat humour and gut-wrenching sincerity. It is a remarkable album by a remarkable artist standing at the crossroads between life and death.

In 1956, rock n’ roll was still very much an unknown quantity in the world of pop music. A young Elvis Presley had been setting the Country Western charts on fire with a red hot series of singles for the legendary Sun Records, but when Sun founder Sam Phillips sold Presley’s contract to RCA for the bargain sum of $35,000, nobody knew if he was going to make much of an impact in the world of pop. Luckily, he did – Elvis would go on to become perhaps the top selling artist of all time – and it all starts here with his self titled debut for RCA. Elvis’ television performances of lead single Heartbreak Hotel all but assured the success of the album – his electrifying, sexually charged style of performance was like nothing the world had seen before. Accusations of satanism, screaming hordes of teenagers and other general hysteria soon began to follow Elvis wherever he went. The album hit number one and sold a million units in 1956 alone – Elvis was a made man. Elvis’ debut features a lot of great covers – Tutti Frutti by Little Richard, I Got a Woman by Ray Charles and Blue Suede Shoes by Carl Perkins all became staples of the King’s live set and his interpretation of Blue Suede Shoes has become the definitive version for many. Other album highlights include Blue Moon, Shake Rattle and Roll and Trying to get to You. Guitarist Scotty Moore’s searing guitar work and Elvis’ explosive vocal stylings seamlessly coagulate all over this album, creating the template for rock n’ roll as we know it today and inspiring bands like the Beatles, Bob Dylan and Led Zeppelin to follow their dreams. Elvis’ first outing was as good as he ever got. All hail the King.

(l’ve Had) the Time of My Life has probably been played at every high school dance since a sinewy Patrick Swayze shimmied into the public consciousness in 1987. Dirty Dancing was a pop culture phenomenon, cleverly challenging the oppressive comfort of a conservative late 80’s America with the sinuous rhythm and primal sex appeal of dance culture. Such a film lives and dies on the strength of its soundtrack and this one certainly delivers. Like the film, the Dirty Dancing soundtrack is a perfect slice of saccharine 80’s pop that evokes a nostalgic sensibility but it also shimmies, shakes and grinds at the same time. Even if it wasn’t connected to the film it would stand on its own as a great compilation. Highlights include Be My Baby by the Ronettes, Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen and Patrick Swayze’s surprisingly good vocal turn, She’s Like the Wind. But you probably know that already – when a record sells 32 million copies (and spends 18 weeks at #1) its track listing has a tendency to tattoo itself into the popular imagination. The Dirty Dancing soundtrack is 32 years old but continues to walk the line between fun and schmaltzy, between goofy and sexy. The secret to its evergreen appeal (and what separates it from other soundtracks) is its unwillingness to be background music. After all, nobody puts Baby in the corner.