THE MONKEES - MORE OF THE MONKEES @ 55

 

Released on January 9th, 1967, The Monkees sophomore LP, More of the Monkees, is celebrating 55 years on the shelves today. It marked both the peak of the band’s popularity and the turning point for them as a “manufactured image”.

With the wild, unprecedented success of the TV show and their debut eponymous LP in the latter half of 1966, their record company was eager to get more product to market as soon as possible. The whole processed was so rushed, in fact, that the band themselves were not even aware of the 2nd album’s release until they stumbled on it in a record shop while on tour in Cleveland, Ohio. Not only were they taken aback by being so completely left out of the loop, but they were also horrified by the cover. It used a photo take of them wearing some decidedly unhip JC Penny clothing from a shoot they thought was only for an ad campaign for that store. And again, Don Kirshner, then musical director of the show, had exercised his control in picking the songs for the album, out of a batch of some 34 titles they’d recorded late in 1966, without consulting any of the members of the band. Nesmith had still been granted a couple of token tracks for his original compositions, but only one of which where he sang lead vocal.

The frustration at being so disconnected from the music production process ate away at Mike in particular, more so than the others, but he was still able to rally support for his concerns from the other guys as well as series creator, Bob Rafelson, and producer, Bert Schneider. This frustration all came to an infamous head during a meeting with Mike, Kirshner and his lawyers where Nesmith put his fist through a wall right next to the head of one of the lawyers after being presented with a rather large cheque they assumed would buy him off. They got their answer from Mike in the form of a dent in the wall. The final straw came when Kirshner released a single without consulting anyone and he was formally dismissed from his position and the group were finally able to secure control over their musical output.

Despite the contentions, lack of input and the godawful album cover, the record still contains a host of songs which would become classics and it became a massive hit record. Their debut was still in the #1 album spot on the Billboard charts when More… pushed it off the top. Collectively, the two records spent a whopping 31 consecutive weeks in that position, with More of the Monkees taking up 18 of them. The album has since been certified quintuple platinum. In addition to the smash hit single, the Neil Diamond penned I’m a Believer, the album features such other favorites as Nesmith’s Mary Mary, the Boyce & Hart proto-punk of (I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone and a second Diamond gem, Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow).

Though the group would assume significant control over their music on subsequent albums, and those efforts would initially prove commercially viable for album sales, their singles were never quite as popular after the departure of Kirshner. The man simply had an ear for infectious pop hits. However, what they lacked in commercial savvy, they more than compensated for with artistic merit as they took full advantage of their access to studios, musicians, songwriters and recording time to create a massive catalogue of beautifully crafted pop confections, exploring a sprawling array of styles and techniques. While they were certainly a coherent band on the Headquarters album that followed, where they played all the instruments themselves, the albums that came after that reverted to a sort of mixed usage of session players and undermined their cohesion, turning them into four concurrent solo artists pooling their songs on the same albums. At least they were each, individually, able to pursue their own vision of what they wanted to do as artists. While More of the Monkees may mark the high water mark for the band commercially, it was only a stepping stone for them creatively. Yet with so much prolific output to come, it’s still shocking to consider that it would all be over in the span of a few short years. At least for the first chapter of their story.

THE DOORS @ 55

 

Released on January 4th of 1967, The Doors eponymous debut LP is marking its 55th anniversary today. It is often considered one of the greatest debut albums of all time by any rock band, a level of acclaim that may well be exaggerated (and there are certainly those who have called the band “overrated”). However, any objective examination of the album reveals it to be sustained by a host of iconic songs which have become emblematic of their time, influential in their legacy and remain relevant in the modern era.

The album is also considered one of the cornerstone releases of the psychedelic era, though it manages to achieve that association without any of the usual production indulgences which typified so many of the records associated with that label. In fact, producer Paul A. Rothchild forbade Robbie Krieger from using a wah-wah pedal on his guitar because he didn’t want to “date” the album. The same went for the rest of the production which eschews the excessive use of feedback, echo, phasing or backwards recording which were often trademarks of other LSD inspired LPs. Yet it still manages to find a surreal plain to inhabit by virtue of the song writing and the inventive arrangements, which straddle a variety of musical styles, from jazz to classical to vaudeville and more, in order to create a pastiche of influences that give it a somewhat dreamlike disposition. It’s a mood that could also slip into the realm of nightmares as the album climaxes with the apocalyptic, nearly 12 minute dirge, The End, a brilliantly conceived ode to termination that still allows for a multitude of layered interpretations, from failed romance to global Armageddon.

Of course, the centerpiece of the album is the hit single, the second from the album after Break On Through failed to chart significantly, Light My Fire. Along with The End, it has a certain kind of nihilism to it that made the listener want to immolate their inhibitions on the band’s sacrificial alter as they invoke a rather Pagan animism of the power of the flame. The sexual charge of the song was provocative enough on its own, but the allusion to drugs with that “girl we couldn’t get much higher” lyric proved enough to send poor Ed Sullivan into a rage. When the band refused to change the lyric when they performed on his show, especially after they'd agreed beforehand to do so, it resulted in them being banned from returning.

Overall, it’s pretty much the band’s most consistent and potent album. There are other classic songs on other albums, but the full weight of perfection on their debut was basically impossible to surpass and, as Morrison slipped deeper and deeper into the hazy lifestyle of drugs and booze that eventually took his life, his ability to deliver the goods became increasingly compromised, preventing him from hitting the same highs. For me, it’s the one album of theirs that I can play from start to finish and enjoy the entire ride. I think it occupies a significant and vital place in the puzzle that is the intricate tapestry of the late 1960s and the cultural revolution which swept the western world at the time. It’s also an album that has gone on to influence generations of subsequent experimental and alternative bands who have looked back to The Doors as exemplars of adventurers daring enough to travel in strange lands.

KRAFTWERK 2 @ 50

Released in January of 1972, Kraftwerk 2 celebrates its 50th anniversary this month. The album was recorded entirely by Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider in late 1971 as “Nobody wanted to play with us because we did all kinds of strange things ... feedbacks and overtones and sounds and rhythms. No drummer wanted to work with us because we had these electronic gadgets.”

Despite the above statement, the album is rather uncharacteristic for its lack of synthesizers, with the instrumentation being largely electric guitar, bass guitar, flute and violin. The electronics on display mostly belong to the realm of 1960s tape-based music with heavy use of tape echo and reversed or altered speed tape effects. The overall mood of the album comes across as more muted as the group explored certain auto-mechanical techniques for their music. They were gradually moving away from formlessness into more structured arrangements, but were still some distance away from the machine-like precision of their classic albums.

Along with their eponymous debut and the follow-up to this, Ralf & Florian, the group have yet to embrace this trio of early works into their acknowledged “catalogue” of classic LPs. All three remain without official reissues or remastering attempts. Though some discussion of such has taken place, it is obviously not a priority for the group, or at least for Ralph Hütter, the only remaining founding member who would be responsible for spearheading such a project. The result is that these sometimes lovely, quirky experiments continue to live in a twilight of unofficial “bootlegs”, only pursued by the bands most ardent fans.

CAPTAIN BEEFHEART - THE SPOTLIGHT KID @ 50

 

Released in January of 1972, Captain Beefheart’s 6th studio album, The Spotlight Kid, celebrates its 50th anniversary this month.

After pushing the blues to the outer edges of recognizable music with Trout Mask Replica (1969) and Lick My Decals Off Baby (1970), the empty bank accounts of Don Van Vliet and his Magic Band convinced him that music fans needed something “to hang their hats on”. Occupying the outer fringes of the avant-garde for the previous two years had left his band living off of welfare or handouts from parents, so musically, and he set course for the band to pursue a slightly more accessible sound. To this end, evenly metered beats were given greater prominence and tempos were slowed down, which also served the purpose of helping Don fit his vocals into the music since he was notorious for not rehearsing with the band and struggling to cope with the faster tempos.

As they had done before with Trout Mask Replica, the group lived communally again during the pre-production & rehearsal phases of Spotlight Kid, a situation which ultimately resulted in the return of the same abuses and deprivations which had characterized the previous experience. At one point, the worst of it was when Zoot Horn Rollo (Bill Harkleroad) was literally thrown out into the trash, an all too cruel commentary on his value to the band. Overall, the change in direction didn’t sit well with the band and many still consider the album one of their least successful, citing the sluggish, slow tempos and simplistic arrangements as disappointing compared to the achievements of the previous records. Interestingly, the album is the only one that is credited to Captain Beefheart alone with no inclusion of The Magic Band like all the other albums.

Critically, the album wasn’t badly received with many considering even a weaker Beefheart album better than good albums by lesser artists. Personally, it’s not one of my favorites by far, though there are a couple of notable songs, the best of which are actually the live performances of I'm Gonna Booglarize You Baby and Click Clack from a TV appearance in Germany on Beat Club. The band looks and sounds in top form and rips through these songs with a focused fury that isn’t apparent on the studio versions.

AMERICA @ 50

 

December 29th marks the 50th anniversary of the release of the debut, eponymous album by America, which was issued on this day in 1971.

The band was formed in the UK, just outside London in 1970, by American students: Dewey Bunnell, Dan Peek and Gerry Beckley. All three of their career military fathers were stationed at the United States Air Force base at RAF South Ruislip. The group took the breezy folk-rock sounds of CSNY and made them even more airy, creating the template that would define ‘70s soft rock for the entire decade. The group’s name was inspired by the Americana jukebox in their local mess hall, but also its primary purpose was to ensure they were not mistaken for Brits attempting to sound American. Right out of the gate, the trio’s mix of seamless three part harmonies and tight musical arrangements scored them hits on both sides of the Atlantic with songs like Horse With No Name, which has become an oldies radio staple.

When I was growing up in the 1970s, particularly by the time the rancor of punk took hold in the latter years of the decade, music like that epitomized by America became anathema to me. For a long time, I looked down on it as an example of the blandness of MOR pop. But something strange happened as the 21st century has unwound and my perspective on that decade has changed. Somewhere along the way, I started to hear their music in an entirely different light and gradually started to find a place for it in my personal musical landscape. Something about its light, effortless ease became intoxicating to me, and when I compared it to what was dominating the charts in the contemporary pop world, it stood head and shoulders above the computer perfected, auto-tuned soulless “soul” ravaging the charts today. No, there’s nothing particularly challenging about any of it, but it manages to deliver a kind of nostalgia for a lost era that brings me back to summer sun and gentle breezes when being a kid was uncomplicated and nonthreatening.

DAVID BOWIE - HUNKY DORY @ 50

December 17th marks the 50th anniversary of the release of David Bowie’s fourth studio album, Hunky Dory, which was issued this day in 1971. While his previous album had not quite “Sold the World”, this would be where he’d put together the core of his “Spiders from Mars” and set the stage for the music revolution he’d lead with its follow-up.

After the somewhat lackluster reception of The Man Who Sold the World, upon returning from a US tour to promote that album, Bowie sequestered himself in his home, eschewing touring and studio time for the moment, and planted himself at his piano in order to start composing songs for his next album. Shifting his writing process off the guitar sent him veering away from the more hard-rock styling of his last album and into a more “pop”, melodic sound. When it came time to start assembling his band for the new album, he managed to bring back guitarist Mick Ronson and drummer Mick Woodmansey, despite some creative fallout after the previous album, but bassist Tony Visconti was replaced by Trevor Bolder to create the core ensemble which would become known as The Spiders from Mars.

Inspired by his trip the the US, Bowie came up with a number of songs that paid tribute to some of the personalities he’d become enamored with over there. These included Andy Warhol, Lou Reed and Bob Dylan, all of whom found themselves immortalize in song on the new album. Moreover, Bowie’s agenda for this album was freed from the influence of the demands of record companies and their executives insisting he pursue some vision of success which was outside his own agenda. For this album, he only sought to satisfy himself and it’s one of the main reasons it is looked back upon as a turning point in his career and the moment when he fully began to cut his own path through the popular music landscape. While most artists of the time were looking to revisit the past after the wild experimentation of the late ‘60s, Bowie was keen to discover new musical lands to inhabit.

While it met with immediate critical praise upon its release, commercially, it stalled and failed to chart prior to the release of the Ziggy Stardust album in 1972. Part of the problem when it came to sales for Hunky Dory was down to Bowie's new label, RCA Records, pulling back on promoting it when they got wind that he was about to change his image AGAIN for the Ziggy album, which was already being recorded. It gave them cold feet and caused them to pull their support for Hunky Dory until they saw where he was going. However, once Ziggy took off, the backlash of success ended up sweeping Hunky Dory off the scrap heap and pushed it up the charts as well where it eventually peaked at #3 in the UK.

For many Bowie aficionados, Hunky Dory is the turning point in Bowie’s career where his artistic vision and abilities finally came into complete focus at their full potential. It’s the album which put all the pieces in place to set the stage for his success on his next album. While on it’s own, it wasn’t the spark that lit the fire, it provided the additional fuel to help reinforce his trajectory once that flame was ignited. The album is loaded with songs that have become classics in Bowie’s canon of essential works. Changes, Oh! You Pretty Things, Life On Mars, Andy Warhol & Queen Bitch all attest to his ability to craft solid, inventive pop music that has stood the test of time for half a century.

KRAFTWERK - ELECTRIC CAFE @ 35

 

December 16th marks the 35th anniversary of the release of Kraftwerk’s ninth studio album, Electric Café, which was issued this day in 1986. After a five year gap since their previous LP, Computer World (1981), this album would mark the end of their “classic” period and lineup of Ralf Hütter, Florian Schneider, Wolfgang Flür and Karl Bartos, which had been consistent since 1975 following the release of their groundbreaking Autobahn LP.

Though Wolfgang was still credited as a member of the group and performed with them during their tour to support Computer World in 1981, he had not actually played on that album and would not contribute anything in the studio for Electric Café either. With the increased reliance on sequencers, his duties as percussionist became drastically reduced and, coupled with certain creative differences, he chose to make his permanent exit from the group shortly after the release of Electric Café.

Work on the album began in 1982 and one of the first songs to emerge from these sessions was Tour De France, which was originally intended to be part of the new album. After completing their last tour, Ralph had become obsessed with the idea of finding a form of exercise which fit in with the philosophies and aesthetics of the group and become an avid cyclist, even encouraging the rest of the group to take up the activity as well as become vegetarian. He was so enthusiastic about it that he campaigned to make cycling the central theme of the new album, but was ultimately unsuccessful in that effort. Instead the original concept for the album was to call it “Technicolor”, but this idea had to be abandoned because of the branding of that name, so it became “Techno Pop” for a while before being renamed to Electric Café for its initial release. However, it ended up being renamed again for its remastered CD reissue back to “Techno Pop”.

Though the album’s production began in 1982, Ralph’s obsession with cycling kept him out of the studio more and more, delaying production. This was greatly exacerbated when he was involved in a serious cycling accident, which left him in a coma for several days. A long recovery kept him out of the studio for some time. As a stop-gap, the group released Tour De France as a single and decided to keep it as a stand-alone release and not include it on the new album.

As Ralph recovered and production gradually got back on track, the group sought to develop their sound in order to keep pushing the envelope of the technology. This involved moving to progressively more digital based sound production and processing gear. Tour De France had set the stage for this with its extensive use of sampled sound effects of bicycle gears, breathing patterns and other associated noises. Even so, when it came to trying to put together the finished mixes, Ralph was not confident that they were reaching the level he had envisioned in terms of keeping the group on the cutting edge of their genre. To help them with this, they brought in the help of New York DJ/producer, François Kevorkian, who had helped with the mix on Tour De France. Aside from the move towards a more digital sound, the album also features the first and only lead vocal from Karl Bartos on The Telephone Call.

Upon the album’s initial release, it was rather limply received. The gap between Computer World and Electric Café had seriously lost the group the momentum it has gained from that previous release and Ralph was right to worry about the group not seeming cutting edge anymore as the album, despite their best efforts, still managed to feel more “of the times” than ahead of it. Critics called it dull and sales were disappointing. I remember buying it when it came out and my own initial reaction to it was a feeling that the group weren’t anticipating the future like they’d done on previous albums. I loved the opening track, Boing Boom Tschak, with its syncopated voice samples and had hoped to hear more of that throughout the album, but it all seemed like familiar territory after that and even a bit like a self-parody in some cases. Ultimately, it would be the groups last full album of new material until the release of Tour De France Soundtracks in 2003. The only other releases before then were the 1991 “best of” rebuilds for The Mix and the 1999 single, Expo 2000.

Though it is mostly considered one of Kraftwerk’s weaker albums, lacking the focused conceptual framework of classic period masterpieces like, Radio Activity, Trans Europe Express, The Man Machine and Computer World, several of its songs have become mainstays of their live performances and have proven themselves to be durable and just as melodically infectious as anything else in the upper echelons of their catalogue. The title song, Electric Café, in a slightly sped-up form, became something of a cultural meme thanks to its use by Mike Myers on SNL in the 1990s for his recurring "Sprockets” German television spoof. My own appraisal of the album has changed for the better over the years as I have grown to find more and more to love about it now that it no longer seems to feel diminished by its relationship to their earlier works. I’m more able to appreciate it on its own merits. These days, I think it has earned its place as an essential piece of the Kraftwerk puzzle among the sacred 8 of their official “Catalogue”.