Pete Townshend: Who Came First (1972)

"Pure And Easy"

Growing up, I always thought The Who were the greatest band of all time, mostly because of the sheer amount of energy put into their music. As a young drummer, Keith Moon’s acrobatic style of playing was as much of an aerobic workout as it was a form of musical catharsis. I paid little attention to the actual content of the lyrics – sure, there was that song about pinball and the one about teenage wastelands, but what did I care? I liked it because it was loud. I liked it because Pete Townshend regularly smashed his guitar onstage. I liked it because songs like “My Generation” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” had a punk sensibility to it.

But once I finally listened closely, I was surprised when I picked up on all of the spiritual undertones (and overtones) in Townshend’s lyrics. Perhaps surprised isn’t the right word – shocked, maybe? My relationship with The Who will always be one rooted in nostalgia, occasionally paying a visit to fourteen-year-old me, pounding away behind my drum kit. It is my relationship with Pete Townshend’s songwriting that has come out on top. Once I finally subjected his work to the same level of scrutiny I had done with other musicians, I loved what I found.

After a near-death experience on an airplane while tripping on acid in 1967, Townshend became a staunch opponent of drug use, devoting himself to the teachings of Persian mystic Meher Baba. Baba himself is an interesting guy, a self-proclaimed messenger of God, but he never expressed an interest in starting a new religion. Throughout his public career, which began in the 1920’s, he sought to present a uniting philosophy for people of all backgrounds: Christian, Buddhist, Jew, Muslim, Sikh, Hindu, agnostic, or atheist. His message of universal peace, love, and understanding found a new audience with the burgeoning hippie movement in the late 1960’s. There was one caveat – Baba was very anti-drug. In his essay “God In A Pill,” he wrote,
“If God can be found through the medium of any drug, God is not worthy of being God.”

Baba’s spirituality was a major inspiration for Townshend, who credited Baba as a spiritual avatar in the liner notes for the original Tommy album. He also served as a partial namesake for The Who’s song “Baba O’Riley.” Townshend thought of music as potential medium that could evoke mass harmony and unity among people of all backgrounds. This theme dominated his aborted rock opera Lifehouse, which was cut down and turned into The Who’s 1971 smash, Who’s Next. While The Who got to keep the heavier songs from the Lifehouse project, Townshend kept some of the more philosophical numbers for his solo debut, Who Came First.

Playing every instrument on the album, Townshend presents an alternate universe of what his band (and yes, I’m saying The Who were and are Pete Townshend’s band – feel free to comment below) could have sounded like in any other form. Gone are the bombastic drums of Keith Moon, replaced instead by a steady, laid-back style of playing that is much better suited for the subject matter. Gone, but similarly not necessarily missing, is Roger Daltrey’s vocals. Roger is great at belting out the heavier tunes, but on the more delicate numbers his singing can be a bit overpowering. Instead, we have Pete’s gentle, welcoming tenor.

“Pure And Easy,” which opens the album, was meant to be the thematic showcase for Lifehouse, a plea for humanity to end its destructive ways. He urges us to “realize the simple secret / of the note / in us all,” pointing to our underlying common “note” as a means to bring about peace. If this all sounds too preachy, the song itself is one of Townshend’s most comforting and majestic melodies.

Though credited as a Townshend solo effort, Side A actually features two songs by two of Townshend’s close friends. The first of these is “Evolution,” a Dylanesque folk tune about reincarnation by Ronnie Lane, who played bass with The Faces, and an occasional Townshend collaborator. The second is “Forever’s No Time At All,” written and performed by Townshend’s friend Billy Nicholls. It’s a joyous celebration of love, one completely in step with the attitude of the time. Nicholls later had some success with the song “I Can’t Stop Loving You,” which was a hit for Leo Sayer, Phil Collins, and Keith Urban.

"Forever's No Time At All" (Billy Nicholls)

After these two (welcome) detours, we’re back to Pete, doing “Let’s See Action,” which The Who had released as a single the previous year. This version is more relaxed, credited as “Nothing Is Everything (Let’s See Action),” and with Townshend singing it is much more fitting, documenting his own search for truth in one’s lifetime: past, present, and future.

Side B opens with “Time Is Passing,” which relates to Townshend’s oft-stated that certain notes and tones were capable of having a profound effect on him, even in his childhood. He sings, “It’s only by the music I’ll be free,” hinting at a religious connection between the man and the music. The following track is an interesting choice, recorded because it was one of Baba’s favorites, a cover of Jim Reeves’ country ballad “There’s A Heartache Following Me.” As odd as it may seem that the same guy who declared “I hope I die before I get old” would cover a song like this, it is a wonderful end result, one clearly done in earnest. Townshend’s “Sheraton Gibson” is somewhat out of place, being a bittersweet nod to life on the road, but it amplifies the themes of isolation from the previous two cuts.

The final two songs are the ones most immersed in spirituality. “Content” is adapted from a poem written by Maud Kennedy; unfortunately, an Internet search of that name is clouded by the fact that there is a French adult actress with the same name. The poem is written in the first person, presented by Townshend as being like a morning prayer, accompanied only by piano. The closing track is by far the most overtly religious, Meher Baba’s universal prayer “Parvardigar.” Townshend goes through the densely-worded devotional like it’s his own words, gaining momentum over the course of six minutes. It makes for a powerful – if slightly sanctimonious – ending to a beautiful record.

I always turn to this album, regardless of my mood. At times, it’s a much needed source of calm and relaxation, like meditating. Other times, it’s happy background music for an already perfect day. From a historical perspective, I think it’s a much more valid statement towards how humanity can continue to better itself without getting too lofty. Regardless, it is a versatile collection of songs from a songwriter whose spiritual side is often overlooked in favor of the sight of seeing the man smash his guitar to splinters onstage.

Just a quick refresher, I rate the songs on a 1-10 scale, granting an 11 trump score to the best song on the album. From there, I add up the ratings and divide by the number of tracks, which gives me the subtotal. I also include other factors, which frequently help (but can sometimes hurt) the final score. 

The Replay Factor is simple: how often do I listen to it? Do I ever skip tracks on subsequent listens? Is it only good for certain moods or seasons?

The Consistency Factor takes the artist's output into account. Is it a prime example of their work?

External Factors is my "spoiler" category, a way to justify adding or subtracting an extra point or two.

 

TRACK LISTING:

01. Pure And Easy [10]

02. Evolution - Ronnie Lane [9]

03. Forever's No Time At All - Billy Nicholls [10]

04. Let's See Action [9.5]

05. Time Is Passing [9.5]

06. There's A Heartache Following Me [9.5]

07. Sheraton Gibson [8]

08. Content [9.5]

09. Parvardigar [11]

Subtotal: 95.5% A

Replay Factor: 3

I bought this album about a year ago, and it has been in steady rotation since, putting it right into the upper echelon with my personal favorites.

Consistency Factor: 1

I haven't heard much from Townshend's solo output besides his Who demos (collected officially and unofficially on several volumes called the Scoop series) and Rough Mix (1977), his collaboration with Ronnie Lane. The demos are fantastic, boasting the same homespun charm that marks Who Came First, but Rough Mix and the other scattered tunes from the 80's that I've heard seem to be in a very different musical vein. This is Townshend at his spiritual peak, without any of the sexual and social angst that can be found elsewhere...

External Factors: 2

...but it is this album's uniqueness that makes it so damn good!  

TOTAL: 101.5% A+ 

"Parvardigar"

 

The Beatles - A Hard Day's Night (1964)

"The Beatles well what can I say now there's a band." [sic]

So goes Glenn Gass' recollection of a student's paper from many years ago, when his class on The Beatles was small enough that he could assign papers in it. He even specified the lack of punctuation.

Anyway, he admitted he's such a pushover for Beatles love that all he could say in reaction to that opening line of an academic paper was, "Yes! Brilliant! That says it all!"

That's about how I feel regarding this album. What can I say?

First of all, A Hard Day's Night is a groundbreaking piece of cinema, and not just because The Beatles are in it. I don't want to get hung up on who the proper claimants should be for inventing music videos - musical shorts have existed since the dawn of talkies, so Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong are just as much of contenders for this coveted title as The Monkees or The Beatles - but Richard Lester's editing style was remarkably innovative.

What set it apart from conventional cinema is that his background was in television and commercials. He applied that rapid-paced aesthetic to a feature-length film, especially with the musical sequences, and along with the influences of French nouvelle vague and Italian Neorealist cinema created something truly unique.

Go see the movie if you haven't. You won't regret it. And don't let the fact that it's black and white steer you away. It's marvelous. Each member of the group has their own distinctive persona. John is the cheeky one, Paul is the long-suffering - but cute - straight man (due in no small part to his pain-in-the-ass grandfather stirring up trouble wherever he goes), George is the one with the deadpan and dry sense of humor, and Ringo is the lovable goof. These personae were played upon more in The Beatles cartoon series on ABC, although the lads themselves had nothing to do with it. I've seen a few episodes, and they're not so great.

Of course, there IS one Beatles cartoon that is positively sublime, but I'll leave Yellow Submarine for another day. It's one of my favorite movies ever, and watching it even as a little guy ranks among my earliest (and fondest) memories.

Frankly, Help! is even better, and not just because it's in glorious Technicolor. I think the humor is even sharper. Still, from a movie geek's perspective, it's A Hard Day's Night, hands-down.

Of course, the avant-garde film lover in me has a special place in my heart for the deliciously weird Magical Mystery Tour. That's 60 minutes of psychedelic heaven.

I'm getting off-topic, though a book about The Beatles' films would make for an interesting project.

The second point worth making, and I don't want to spend a year and a half on my opening statement before going to the tracks, is that this album was an early masterpiece for the band. Consisting entirely of Lennon/McCartney originals (which was a HUGE deal in 1964; The Stones and The Kinks wouldn't do that until 1966 with Aftermath and Face To Face, respectively, while The Who didn't have an all-originals album until 1971's Who's Next), this is the peak of the band's early pop sound. For me, everything they had done from "Love Me Do" onwards was building up to this. There's the distinct Beatles sound, yes, but they're able to incorporate the feel of those early rock and rollers and the various Motown tunes they covered on singles, With The Beatles, and the Long Tall Sally EP (included at the end of this review, along with a pair of singles).

I would say this album is just as important for The Beatles and the world of popular music as Rubber Soul and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Its musical influence was felt in subsequent releases by bands both in the UK and the US, including a new batch of musicians who were just as into The Beatles as they were with Bob Dylan; the album's inception, a solid collection of pop songs with very little filler material - and again, this cannot be overstated, ALL-ORIGINAL SONGS - would also pave the way for the paradigm shift that bands who didn't write their own stuff wouldn't make it. At least for a period.

That line in the sand was definitely drawn by Rubber Soul, and when I inevitably get to that fine record I'll have more to say about what a game-changer it was, but it happened here first. It was a momentous occasion for John and Paul, that's for damn sure. Of course, having George on only one song (singing only, he didn't write it) and nothing from Ringo are things I will hold against it, but these are minor drawbacks.

TRACK LISTING:
01. A Hard Day's Night [10]
02. I Should Have Known Better [9]
03. If I Fell [10]
04. I'm Happy Just To Dance With You [9]
05. And I Love Her [10]
06. Tell Me Why [9.5]
07. Can't Buy Me Love [10]
08. Any Time At All [7.5]
09. I'll Cry Instead [9]
10. Things We Said Today [11]
11. When I Get Home [8]
12. You Can't Do That [10]
13. I'll Be Back [10]

Singles
01. I Want To Hold Your Hand [10]
02. This Boy [10]

01. Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand [N/A]
02. Sie Leibt Dich [N/A]

Long Tall Sally EP
01. Long Tall Sally [10]
02. I Call Your Name [8]
03. Slow Down [10]
04. Matchbox [10]

I'll go ahead and point out that, to my eternal annoyance, the DVD of the film features the songs at their original speed. Yes, they were slightly sped-up for the album. I don't know why they did this on the DVD, because as a result the songs don't completely synch up. Whatever.

THE SONGS:
01. A Hard Day's Night [10]
This, friends, is how you start a movie:


This song starts with an instantly recognizable bang, the musical equivalent of a gunshot at the beginning of a race. It's a song full of energy and movement. Listen closely for the bongos under the verses, adding a busy edge to the rhythm. Paul does a great job singing on the bridge, or as they called that section of their songs, the "middle eight."

During the solo, the instrumentation is George on 12-string guitar (more on that instrument later) and producer George Martin doubling the line on piano. It's a very unique sound.

Fantastic song, what can I say? It's a classic. It was also their first big hit in America after "I Want To Hold Your Hand," and a clear sign they wouldn't be going away anytime soon.

02. I Should Have Known Better [9]


Although there's a lot of early Beatles songs featuring the harmonica - "Love Me Do," "From Me To You," "Please Please Me," "Little Child," and so on - this is the first instance of John playing the harmonica in the style of Bob Dylan, whose 1963 album The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan marked the beginning of his influence on The Beatles' approach to songwriting. The song itself isn't like anything Dylan was doing at the time. He was still very much rooted in the folk-protest movement, so the harmonica is, if anything, just a sly nod and wink.

This one's really catchy. I love when they sing this song in the movie and the schoolgirls watching them swoon. One of those girls, Patti Boyd - the blond with the gappy teeth - later became Mrs. George Harrison in 1966. Speaking of George, that solo features the 12-string guitar. I won't go into the mechanics of what gives it such a unique sound, all one needs to do is hear it to know what I mean by the 12-string guitar having a "jangly" quality. This particular instrument would be a trademark in the sound of The Byrds.

03. If I Fell [10]


During one of VH1's all-important countdowns of the greatest albums of all time, Billy Joe Armstrong from Green Day said about The White Album that every song on it seemed to inspire the entire careers of later groups. The same can be said about any Beatles album, it seems, and this is no exception. I don't have any quote or any sort of evidence to back this up, but this song had to be a major influence on Ray Davies from The Kinks.

I say this because it's a pretty frank description of venturing into a new love while still tending to a broken heart. (Not to get too personal, but quite honestly, I can easily relate to the sentiment behind this song.) Everything seems to begin with the word "If": "If I give my heart to you...", "If I trust in you...", "If I fell in love with you..."

There's a massive sense of insecurity in this song, asking, "You're not going to hurt me like she did, will you?" There's also a hint of bitterness: "And that she will cry / When she sees that we are two." One other influence this may have had on The Kinks extends beyond the lyrics, but in the music itself. The high/low harmonies shared by John and Paul wouldn't be out of place between Ray and Dave Davies.

It's a beautiful piece of music, a melody that sticks with you, and a genuinely heartfelt message. Amazing.

04. I'm Happy Just To Dance With You [9]


I'll just go ahead and get this out of the way before I say this on every single song, but this album features John and Paul's best melodies, hands-down. They aren't getting too experimental with harmonies (not in the vocals, anyway; musically, there's some downright bizarre stuff going down with the chord changes, but it works and it sounds marvelous), and each one of these songs can be easily whistled. Think of some of John's later stuff - don't get me wrong, he only got better as a songwriter - but whistling the melody to "I Am The Walrus" is like trying to whistle a rap song or something. He began to favor a minimalistic approach, saying a lot with a little, and it's great, but here he's firing on all cylinders.

Of course, the lyrics here are a bit simple, it's about sharing a dance with a girl and then realizing you love her. Basic pop stuff. George sings it, and he does a really good job. Apparently he was still self-conscious about his songwriting abilities (even though "Don't Bother Me" is one of their greatest early songs). Seeing as he had only written that one song (although there is a George tune called "You Know What To Do" on Anthology One, and it's nothing to write home about) by this point while John and Paul were able to write chart-topping hits in their sleep, and not just for The Beatles, but for other artists, too, it's easy to conclude George was probably somewhat intimidated.

Anyway, good song, nothing earth-shattering, but a memorable melody and well-played.

05. And I Love Her [10]


The lyrics are simply beautiful. I love the "Bright are the stars that shine / Dark is the sky" passage. This is pop balladry at its absolute best. There's a Latin flavor here, thanks to the percussion (Ringo on bongos and claves) as well as the mellow tones of George's acoustic solo. "And I Love Her" is another example of many early Beatles tunes where Paul brought a near-complete song to the table and John finished it off by writing the middle eight, or vice versa. Here, John wrote the "A love like ours / Could never die..." bridge, supposedly, although Paul claims this song is all his. I can't blame him, I wish I could write something this stunningly gorgeous.

This tune also stands out as being only one of three (out of thirteen songs overall on the album) where there's just solo vocals and no harmonies.

06. Tell Me Why [9.5]


John wrote this song to try and imitate the sound of a black female vocal group. And it shows, which is why I absolutely LOVE this song. It's got the earnest sincerity and sweetness of an early 60's pop record. The call-and-response vocals, with John singing a line and Paul and George singing a follow-up to it, sounds like something right off of a single by Diana Ross & The Supremes. This stands as one of my favorite overlooked early Beatles songs.

07. Can't Buy Me Love [10]
"WE'RE OUT!"


If that scene doesn't make you smile, then get out of you here, because you clearly don't have a heart. It's one of my favorite scenes of all time.

The song is bloody brilliant. It's a big kiss-off to materialism, no doubt written as a result of The Beatles' new-found fortune and fame: "I don't care too much for money / 'Cause money can't buy me love." It's true. Think of how many pop songs out there state that message again and again. I guess that's what makes love so great: it's free.

Anyway, this is just a fun song. Paul sings like his life depends on it, George's guitar solo is perfect, and the band stops and starts on a dime. I LOVE that scream before the solo. Yet another classic Beatles tune.

08. Any Time At All [7.5]


With side B of the original album, we get to the songs that weren't in the original film. I have a stronger case with the Help! album, but the same applies here: a lot of these songs have been lost in the shuffle of time, overlooked in favor of the certified classics on side A, which are made all the more iconic by being in the movies.

Of course, I'm not a huge fan of this song. I think it's just a little sloppy. It feels like John is exerting himself to get all the words in when he sings "Any time at all / All you gotta do is call", but the verses are good. Additionally, the middle eight was supposed to have lyrics, at the 1:30 mark. It clearly doesn't, resulting in what I always thought was a fairly awkward musical interlude.

It isn't awful. But I wouldn't be putting this on a "Best of Beatles" mix CD anytime soon. It's forgettable.

09. I'll Cry Instead [9]

This photo-montage was included on the 1982 home video release of "A Hard Day's Night," but is nowhere to be found on the DVD. Bit of a shame, because I grew up with this clip being almost like a teaser for the rest of the film.

In his early years, John had a bit of a nasty streak. He had some serious jealousy issues, and wasn't above mean-spirited comments or jokes at others' expenses. This song provides a glimpse into John's darker side. Here, he sings about having his heart broken - hence the crying in the song's title - before warning "You'd better hide all the girls / I'm gonna break their hearts all around the world / Yes, I'm gonna break 'em in two / And show you what your lovin' man can do." Yikes.

And yet, despite his dastardly scheme to inflict his wrath on other girls, he admits he doesn't like to cry in front of other people. This is a hint of things to come, with John's increasingly candid, personal, and brutally honest lyrics. My only complaint is that the song's too short.

10. Things We Said Today [11]


When I was much younger and I first heard this song, I didn't really bother to comprehend the lyrics. Besides, I misunderstood a lot of what they were singing because of their accents. Anyway, as a kid, I always this was a break-up song. It feels like it is, because most of the song is in a minor key, rather than a major key.

Now, as a grumpy old man at age 23, these lyrics are among the finest Paul McCartney ever wrote. That's saying a lot, considering how early in his career this is, and what other masterpieces he would go on to write. It's from such a unique point of view, with two young lovers looking ahead to the future:

"Someday when we're dreaming
Deep in love, not a lot to say
Then I will remember
Things we said today"

That's beautiful. Although there is some tight competition for being the best song on the album, I will staunchly defend this song as my choice.

11. When I Get Home [8]


This one's another misfire. It's catchy, but I don't like the intro. Otherwise, this is a song that catches Lennon in a Motown-ready mood. I just feel like it doesn't succeed on all fronts. It needs more, some layered handclaps, some double-tracking, percussion, maybe a piano? I don't know, it just seems to be missing several components. The vocals on the verses are a little thin, the chorus is slightly off, but that bridge! WOW. It's the song's saving grace, and wonderfully done.

12. You Can't Do That [10]


Another delicious 12-string guitar lick, with plenty of cowbell. It's another slightly mean-spirited song of John's, rooted almost certainly in his own jealousies, but in a general context it could just be about a guy with an untrustworthy lover. John plays the distinctive, noisy, choppy guitar solo in this song, a mark of his later simplistic take on rock and roll.

Great song...and it was supposed into the finished movie, during the big concert at the end:


13. I'll Be Back [10]


This almost got the 11 ranking as the best song on the album. It's a moody song, from one lover to another, about no matter how awfully they'll be treated, he'll be back. It is never specified why, but it's again a subtle hint at some sort of weakness. Simply beautiful. I love the harmonies, the bridge, the overall feel of the song.

And, just for fun, here are two early versions of the song. This first one is in a different time signature (6/8), and it actually works quite well during the verses before falling completely apart at the bridge. It isn't perfect.


Here's another early take of it, done in 4/4 time.


It's great to hear this AMAZING song as a work-in-progress. I think this song is quite overlooked and underrated. And yet, I would rank it among their best. It's kind of a surprising choice to end the album, but at the same time...I like it like that.

Subtotal: 94.62% A

Replayability Factor: 3
This is a fun album, and it can be played anywhere.

Consistency Factor: 2
After the big ones, the ones that all the critics (deservedly) worship - Rubber Soul, Revolver, Pepper, The White Album - get this one.

External Factors: 1
No Ringo, and only one George song. Poo-poo.

TOTAL: 100.6% A+

Now for the singles:

01. I Want To Hold Your Hand [10]


I always point to this as one of their most banal pop songs, but it's SO damn good! Love the shift to a minor key in the bridge. Fantastic, catchy, it's a quintessential pop song.

Oh, yeah, and this was their first American number one. This was a tremendous achievement for an English artist - let alone a rock and roll band - to top the charts in the States. So, in short, this song started Beatlemania in the US.

02. This Boy [10]


Beautiful three-part harmonies, with a memorable solo performance from John.

01. Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand [N/A]


It's "I Want To Hold Your Hand"...in German.

02. Sie Leibt Dich [N/A]


It's "She Loves You"...in German.

Now, the Long Tall Sally EP. This is the only Beatles EP that features songs not found elsewhere. The Kinks had two EP's like this. The Who had one or two...and The Rolling Stones had a few. It's like a single, but with an extra song on each side, so roughly a third of an album.

01. Long Tall Sally [10]


McCartney at his manic best, with the band playing like the building is on fire. Jaw-droppingly good. The original was done by Little Richard...you might also know him as God.

02. I Call Your Name [8]


This John song was given a new life when Mama Cass from The Mamas & The Papas had a hit with it. It's good, but not outstanding. I do like how the song shifts to a shuffle beat in the guitar solo, before going back to straight time. That's pretty cool.

03. Slow Down [10]


One of three songs by Larry Williams, a rather obscure 1950's rocker, covered by The Beatles. John's performance here rivals Paul's on "Long Tall Sally." Just phenomenally great.

04. Matchbox [10]


Ringo sings this song, originally done by Carl Perkins. Perkins, along with Larry Williams, is the most-covered artist on official Beatles releases. Ringo also sang "Honey Don't" on Beatles For Sale, with George (who idolized Carl Perkins) ending the same album with "Everybody's Trying To Be My Baby." A great little rockabilly number. I'm a sucker for great little rockabilly numbers.

Rock on.

The Kinks - 'Sleepwalker' (1977)

This three-month sabbatical has been pretty wild. Not that my personal life is the focus of this blog (that would be the other one), but my fiance and I broke up. It was my call.

Between that and my semester ending, I've had a lot more time to just sit and listen to music. It's been a real renaissance for me.

But enough about me in 2010, let's go back to me in 2001, when I first heard this album. I picked it up in May, along with Misfits (1978), and I really feel like those two albums are brothers, in the same sense that George Harrison once said, "Rubber Soul and Revolver could be 'Volume 1' and 'Volume 2'." Granted, these two albums have different tones to them. Misfits is a little more playful lyrically, more whimsical. Sleepwalker is a darker album...in today's context, with death metal and everything, it's about as dark as Times Square at midnight, but the songs are largely unhappy.

What I love about The Kinks - besides everything, of course - is that you can't pin them down as having a particular sound. Since they were in such a constant state of flux creatively, there aren't any transitional albums, either. No Beatles For Sale-like album that shows where they've been and where they're headed. None of that. Instead, each album seems to catch Ray, Dave, and the boys in different musical settings. Hell, even Preservation Act One and Preservation Act Two are markedly different stylistically.

The one precursor I have for all this is a simple one:
THIS ALBUM SHOULD BE LISTENED TO AT NIGHT.

Some albums just have connotations to them, and it all goes back to when it was that I first got into it in a big way. For me, Rubber Soul is a very autumnal album. Tonight's The Night is a winter album. This is a late-night summer drive, with a full moon out, maybe even some lightning, out in the middle of nowhere.

Putting this album in context within The Kinks' career, this was their first disc after all the rock operas and concept albums that began with Arthur back in 1969. Depending on who you ask, this is either a perplex, inaccessible period in the band's story or some of the greatest music the group ever did. I fall into the latter, but I don't wish to disparage Sleepwalker in any sense. They came off the whole rock opera thing with a tightly-packed album containing what I think Ray does best: character sketches.

I'm sure I'll repeat this several more times when I talk about the songs, but I'd love to sit down with him and find out what inspired the stories on this album. It's surprising to read that such fairly oblique jabs like "A Well-Respected Man" and "Dedicated Follower Of Fashion" stemmed from incidents where someone pissed Ray off, very specific events. At the same time, however, he truly is an expert storyteller, and some songs just come from the top of his head.

In a way, each song is like a little movie all on its own, a 3 to 5-minute summary of what could unfold as a great novella. Additionally, every song on the album is at least partially in the first person. Ray seemed to be returning to a more introverted literary persona, rather than the deliciously bawdy showman we encountered on Everybody's In Showbiz or his Mr. Flash get-up on Preservation Act Two.

This is a terrific album, and one I always point to as proof that, unlike what most publications would have you believe, The Kinks were still producing art worth a damn long after "Lola."

TRACK LISTING:
01. Life On The Road [9.5]
02. Mr. Big Man [9.5]
03. Sleepwalker [10]
04. Brother [8]
05. Juke Box Music [10]
06. Sleepless Night [9]
07. Stormy Sky [10]
08. Full Moon [11]
09. Life Goes On [9]

The songs hyperlinked above are from the band's appearance on 'The Old Grey Whistle Test' in April 1977. The user who posted the (extraordinarily high-quality) videos doesn't have them available for embedding.

THE SONGS:
01. Life On The Road [9.5]

It starts off nondescriptly enough, maybe even a little too quiet as far as the mix goes. Still, Ray daydreams of venturing to London over a delicate organ/piano arrangement. Right at the one-minute mark, it turns into an upbeat rock song. It's at the perfect tempo, capturing the excitement detailed by the narrator.

The strange thing is, this is a subject Ray has tackled before, on Lola Versus Powerman & The Moneygoround and on Everybody's In Showbiz; what makes it so strange is that it doesn't seem stale. He's approaching it from a different angle. On Lola it's a band rising to fame, on Showbiz it's about what happens once a band has achieved fame, but here it's about a kid hitting the streets and seeing the seedy underbelly of the world: "I didn't know then that the dives and the dens / Would be so vulgar and wicked and wild...", his failed encounters with "stuck-up city ladies" yields him nothing more than a cold, he naively gets seduced by a gay muscleman while "hanging out with the punks."

His quest for success gives him holes in his socks and bloodshot eyes. At the end of the song he yearns for home, hoping to "Say goodbye to a world that's too real / Goodbye to a world that's forgotten how to feel," confessing it's taking its toll on him, he sometimes hates it, but it's all he's ever known. When he sings the chorus - "But I'm livin' the life that I chose" - he has such a sense of resignation that it's like a reluctant sigh, something he tells himself in the mirror every morning, before launching back into the chorus at full-speed.

The song's musical energy is a nice displacement to what is a fairly downtrodden tale, one I'm sure Ray had witnessed after 15 years in "the business."

02. Mr. Big Man [9.5]

This one HAS to be based on someone in Ray's life. It isn't Tom Robinson, though we'll talk about him a little later.

In the YouTube comments, someone claims it's about John Lennon. While John did act like an ass towards The Kinks at the 1964 NME Poll Winners' concert, this is 13 years later, never mind smack in the middle of John's "house-husband" phase. I doubt it...but it could be about anyone who let fame get to their head.

Anyway, this is a pretty grim song, about a former friend whose lust for money and power has made him a crooked, intimidating figure in the business world, although in the final verse, Ray suggests a far more sinister path: "Your enemies and foes / Are all stacked-up in rows / Eliminated one by one."

There's a lot of passion in the music, and a palpable sense of hurt and anger in Ray's vocals. This album and Schoolboys In Disgrace have some of Ray's best performances as a singer. He's quite underrated in that regard.

03. Sleepwalker [10]

That is some damn funky drumming from Mick Avory on the intro. Good, catchy riff, too.

This was the big single from the album, and their first hit in some time. It almost reminds me of "Lola," in that both songs have a slightly twisted lyric wrapped up in a catchy-as-Hell rock song. The stuff about sleepwalking seems fairly harmless until he starts talking about "Better close your window tight / I might come in for a bite," or at the end, when he says "I'll even come to your home / If you're ever alone." I read somewhere that an extra verse was cut out of the song with an overt sexual reference. I can't find any record of what the extra lines were, but I'd love to know. Whatever it was, I have no doubt that it was removed with the idea of the song being the album's single in mind.

And how about Dave's dueling guitar solos? Listen to that with headphones for the full effect.

Because I like this song so damn much, here it is again, and in an entirely different mix:


04. Brother [8]

This could have been the single, but Ray resisted and held out for "Sleepwalker." I can see why. I used to dislike this song, I thought it was too schmaltzy. But, as is the case with a lot of Kinks songs, a close reading of the lyrics shows something much different than the music suggests.

"You're my brother / Though I didn't know you yesterday"

This isn't a celebration of Ray and Dave's relationship - which is an amusing, at times sweet, love/hate sibling affair - it's about how the world is going to Hell, with people "...breaking off relationships / And leavin' on sailin' ships / For far and distant shores." There is an odd sense of impending doom in this song, something we'll return to later on the album, as if everyone seems to be fleeing from some sort of cataclysmic event. While I'm glad this wasn't the single - it's too repetitive, I think - it is a good song.

05. Juke Box Music [10]

This is a masterpiece. Never mind the lyrics - for now - but musically, the way the song builds up to an intro, with a guitar solo that sounds like it was plucked from the clouds...and whatever sort of synthesizer John Gosling was playing sounds fantastic. Sounds like the Stringman synth Frank Sampedro plays on Neil Young's "Like A Hurricane." Those short bursts of guitar solos at the end of the choruses is a pretty, melodic bit of playing. And again, Ray sounds great; so does Dave on the last chorus.

Then there's the lyrics. It's a character study of a woman at a dance club who pumps quarters into the jukebox to simply listen to the music she loves, like an addiction. She doesn't dance, she doesn't interact with anyone else, just listens to the music. Ray assures us, the listener, that "It's only jukebox music!" After that stellar guitar break in the middle, the lyrics get personal, compounded by it being Ray and Dave singing these lyrics, seemingly to each other:

"It's all because of that music
That we're slowly drifting apart
But it's only there to dance to
So you shouldn't take it to heart"

Maybe it's because there's so much meaning in Ray's lyrics, maybe it's because Ray stands with George Harrison and Frank Zappa as one of the great idols of my youth, but there's such irony in Ray Davies telling us that his music is only there to dance to. Perhaps it's a comment on the direction they were taking, opting for a more commercial sound upon signing to Arista Records in 1976.

It's one of the best examples of Ray Davies the storyteller, and I love how he brings it full-circle to briefly reflect on his relationship with Dave. Classic Kinks.

06. Sleepless Night [9]

Looking through all these videos, I have to paraphrase something Glenn Gass said about The Beatles in 1966: The Kinks circa 1977 look so cool. When I was younger, I thought Dave was the shit. I still do.

Dave takes the lead vocals on this song (although Ray gets two lines in the bridge), and he sounds great. There's something about the timbre of his voice that I just love. When I first heard The White Stripes, I thought, "Wow, this guy sounds like Dave Davies!"

Anyway, the song is a great showcase for some backing vocal harmonies, organ, and Dave's guitar. I'm a big sucker of this, although other musicians I know think it's a cheap trick, but I love when a drummer switches to playing in double-time. That happens at the beginning of the song, it lumbers for a second, but then Mick kicks it into high gear and away it goes.

It's a funny story, although if it were a situation happening to me, I wouldn't be laughing. The song's hero is kept awake by his neighbors having loud sex. That's already a pretty bad situation, but then in the bridge comes the critical line:

"Once I was her lover
It was so good to be
Now she's got somebody else and I can't sleep
Nothing hurts people more than other people do
But what can you do?"

Good song.

07. Stormy Sky [10]

Amazing!

This is a tender love song, for the most part. There's two of those great Davies twists, little lines that throw the song's balance, if one is focusing on the lyrics: "Perhaps it's a sign of what we're headed for" and "There's nowhere we can hide," both suggesting apocalyptic doom, much like in "Brother."

The group is running on all cylinders, too: Ray goes from a sotto near-whisper at the beginning to a full-voiced bellow at the end. Fantastic. The band plays with a great deal of temperament, all building up to the 2:45 marker, where the song stops for just a second and Dave ushers in the song's coda with a great high riff. It ends perfectly, slowing down to a halt, almost like the end of a violent storm.

08. Full Moon [11]

But we're not out of the woods just yet. This is one of Ray's best songs, period, and the easy winner of best song from the album. It's almost like the spiritual invert of "Stormy Sky." Where the previous is a dark, stormy night shared by two lovers, this clear night with a bright full moon shining down is one of solitary torment.

Everything about this song is perfect, the way Ray asks, "Haven't you noticed a kind of madness in my eyes?", confessing to all these character flaws and quirky mannerisms as being the result of a full moon. The melody is simply beautiful, and the band does the song justice; like the last song, there's a sense of reserve until the coda. The piano break near the end brings in the big finale, where Ray is singing like his career depends on it. It's a beautiful point when the backing vocals hearken back to "Johnny Thunder" from The Village Green Preservation Society (at the 3:22 mark), it still floors me.

Songs like this are the only reason I need to defend my choice of The Kinks as my favorite band of all time.

09. Life Goes On [9]

I used to hate this song, and let's face it, "Full Moon" is an incredibly difficult act to follow. I also used to hate any song that openly acknowledged one's own mortality. Now, though, the line "And one day when you are gone / You know that life will still go on" sits fairly well with me.

Some great Ray one-liners here, "Life goes on / It happens every day," "Get that frown off your head / 'Cause you're a long time dead," and "No matter how hard I try / It seems I'm too young to die." I really like that bridge where he talks about his own suicide attempt, how he planned to gas himself to death, but hadn't paid his bills so his supply was cut off. As I've gotten older I've developed more of an appreciation for such bare-faced morbid humor.

And on that note, I have to say, where else could we go after a song like "Full Moon" but to a meditation on life and death?

Subtotal: 95.5% A

Replayability Factor: 3
I can listen to this album anytime, anyplace, anywhere.

Consistency Factor: 2
For a band with such a long career, it's easy to pick the immediate classics. I don't think too many people will disagree with me if I say your first Kinks album should be Village Green, Something Else, or Arthur. But as far as second-level Kinks listening goes, I put Sleepwalker very high up as a sign that they still had it.

External Factors: 2
It's a great example of Ray's songwriting reaching new heights as far as storytelling and painting pictures of people, whether sympathetic ("Juke Box Music") or less so ("Mr. Big Man"). There's a lot about sanity, things taking a toll on one's psyche, so it's lyrically one of the more harrowing Kinks releases. It just happens to be wrapped in a deceptively gorgeous musical package.

TOTAL: 102.5% A+

And now, since there is a single to cover plus some outtakes that I think are worth mentioning, let's go into the bonus round.

SINGLES:
01. Father Christmas [11]

This is my favorite Christmas song of all-time. It's hilarious, and it gives a good glimpse into what the holiday is really about for the Western world: greed. It's also punk, through and through.

Also, does that video not look like the best party ever? I'd hang out with them.

02. Prince Of The Punks [10]

And speaking of punks, this is the best diss song since "Positively 4th Street," an almighty "fuck you" to Ray's former protege Tom Robinson, who apparently decided to go into punk music because it was the "thing" at the time. Even without any knowledge of what/who the song is really about, it's a pretty pointed barb about the guy we all know who tries too hard.

All I know is I would never want Ray Davies pissed off at me.

OUTTAKES:
01. The Poseur [10]

This was originally going to be the title cut for the album. I don't quite know why it got trimmed, it's a really good song, a bit different in style from the rest of the disc, but in a good way. I mean, you can DANCE to this! Pretty unique song, nothing else quite like it in the canon.

02. On The Outside [9]

While I like this song, I can definitely see why it wasn't on the finished album. It might have been better-suited for Misfits or a Ray Davies solo release. It isn't bad at all, maybe a little too much on the side of easy-listening. Still, the song was dusted off in 1994, polished with some new tracks, and released on an EP featuring a newly-recorded version of "Waterloo Sunset," the aptly-named Waterloo Sunset '94. The version here is from 1977.

03. Elevator Man [10]

Oh, my God, this song.

I'm so proud that I have a copy of this tune. Assuming my friend Dave Emlen at the greatest Kinks site in the universe posts this review on the "News & Rumors" feed, this will hopefully mean a batch of Kinks fans are hearing this ditty for the first time. It's a funky little rocker, about an elevator operator who sees all sorts of people.

I like it.

On that note, if you bother to click through on the YouTube link for "Elevator Man," you'll notice it was posted by one Sleepwalker1977.

That's me. That's how much I love this album. My old email address is Sleepwalker_1977 [at] hotmail.com, so yeah...Sleepwalker is an album I enjoy very much. It's super-dorky, but what can I say? I'm a dork.

Good to be back. Hope to see you again soon.
Alex

Neil Young - Re-Ac-Tor (1981)

Moving is a pain in the ass. I'll just go ahead and say that. Just sleep on a mat, wash the same outfit every night - and who needs technology? Right?

Guess it's a necessary evil if you want to be able to see the world.

After EIGHT WEEKS without my computer, which I was putting music from home onto right until the morning I left for New York, it finally came in the mail. Of course, six of those weeks were spent in a setting where I couldn't exactly unpack. I had promised to write a review of a bad album, but I couldn't resist this. The tunes from this album were stuck in my head for me to ignore the need to do it, so here it goes - the 1981 album Re-Ac-Tor by Neil Young and Crazy Horse.

This album is held in fairly low regard, I've noticed. It isn't as controversial and divisive as Trans (1982), Everybody's Rockin' (1983), or Old Ways (1985), nor is it as hated as Landing On Water (1986) or Life (1987), but all across the board - at least in my experience in reading reviews of the album - it seems like a low-tier Neil Young album, like The Rolling Stones' Black And Blue or any post-1975 solo Beatles album...inconsequential and "just kinda there."

At allmusic.com, Re-Ac-Tor has a rating of two stars, the lowest score awarded to any of his records, and tied for such a distinction with Trans, Everybody's Rockin', Landing On Water, Arc (which is a 35-minute sonic experiment of song fragments, feedback, and the guys in Crazy Horse tuning up - naturally, the mainstream critics hate it and I think it's wonderful), and the 2002 album Are You Passionate?. Not even the real shit-storm records (American Stars & Bars, Hawks & Doves) are that low, each garnering a three-star rating.

Then again, the overrated and overproduced Harvest, the best-selling album of 1972, is given FOUR AND A HALF STARS. For real.

And yet I think this treatment of Reactor (I know the title is hyphenated, but for ease of typing I'll just type it out like a normal word) is unfair. Maybe it's because the reviews had my expectations so damn low that I didn't know what to expect other than 40 minutes of ass-crap. My affection for the record was probably also boosted because I had listened to it alongside Hawks & Doves (1980), which like American Stars & Bars (1977) before it had a good side and a bad side. While the a-side of Stars & Bars featured Nashville-ready country music - not really my thing, but I can listen to it in the right mood - that I consider inferior to its flipside (which includes the majestic yet raucous masterpiece "Like A Hurricane," which I consider one of the best songs ever), the a-side of Hawks & Doves features some wonderful, gentle acoustic Neil.

It wouldn't classify as folk or country, just "acoustic." Those songs are gorgeous, and for my money he does some of the best singing of his career on songs like "Little Wing" (no relation to the Jimi Hendrix tune of the same name) and "The Old Homestead." But then comes the b-side, which features the hokiest crap passed off as country music since...well, I don't know since I'm not a country buff. Still, it's awful. When it isn't cheesy ("Stayin' Power," "Coastline") or head-scratchingly odd ("Union Man"), it features our hero espousing some pretty blatant jingoistic praise towards the United States.

Nothing wrong with celebrating life in the land of the First Amendment (though even that has been taken away from us...thanks, Dubya!), but this is the guy who wrote "Ohio." The guy who wrote "Southern Man." And not only that, the songs themselves are...just...bad. "Boy, this country sure looks good to me!" - That's bad writing, friends. He could have been taking a piss on the Reagan administration (he didn't - he liked the bastard) and I would have thought that was a bad lyric.

So back-to-back, I have an album that starts off really well, I thought, only to go right down the tubes in its latter half, followed by this album, Reactor. How did it stack up?

Read on.
01. Opera Star [10]
Maybe I was expecting some truly bad 80's rock (not naming names...), but when this came on, I cranked it the Hell up! The song kicks off with a catchy riff, and Neil rattles off the first verse like it's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" or "Too Much Monkey Business," with a string of lyrics about a jilted lover. Those "whoo-whoo" backing vocals remind me of "Sympathy For The Devil," one of the innumerable factors leading to my dad hate-hate-HATING what I consider one of The Rolling Stones' best moments.

Just listen to the band, and you'll hear guitar tones that we'd first met on Rust Never Sleeps, which I love. This album greets you like an old friend. It wasn't just the contrapuntal experience of hearing rightist jingo country back-to-back with this neanderthal rock. I've re-listened to Reactor several times, and "Opera Star" is fist-pumping rock, with Crazy Horse living up to the equine connotations by charging out like a race is on.

This song also confirmed what I suspected since I first heard Rust, and that is that Neil had to have heard Cheap Trick during this period. Had to. Between the driving tempo, the singing, the guitars, and the comical "ha-ha-HA, ha-HA!" at the end of every verse, he's rocking that same combination of rock and roll delivered with a knowing smirk rather than a pretentious sneer.

"So your girlfriend slammed the door shut in your face tonight, but that's all right
Then she took off to the opera with some highbrow from the city lights.
Well, you grew up on the corner, you never missed a moonlit night.

Some things never change,
They stay the way they are

(Ha-ha-HA, ha-HA [ho-ho-ho])

You were born to rock, you'll never be an opera star!
(Repeat)"

That's the first verse and the chorus. I detect a bit of self-mockery. Just a few months back I read a guitar magazine where Neil talked about his playing and said something to the effect of how he plays with intensity and passion, only to add, "But I suck. I've heard myself!" He has a very wry sense of humor, and it's no more obvious to me than it is on this song, where the rock 'n' roller gets ditched for some opera-going schmuck. The idea of low art versus high art is something that belies serious discussions of rock and roll (or for that matter, in many circles still, popular culture studies in general), that "It's only rock and roll" or "It's only jukebox music" (these Kink references come left and right when I'm talking about anyone but The Kinks!). To avoid a blog post-derailing tangent, let me just say that thought is pure nonsense.

The sustained notes coming from the synthesizer - and again, not an intrusively obnoxious brassy synth that one would expect on an 80's album - are in a string voice. Maybe it's the Stringman synth we first heard on "Like A Hurricane." Still, it reminds me of some Sleepwalker-era Kinks (they were probably not the first, but it's the memory I associate with that tone).

Oh, and he says "fuck" in the second verse, making references to "gettin' fucked up in that rock 'n' roll bar / And you never get tired 'cause all your drugs are in a little jar." He later did a song called "Fuckin' Up" on Ragged Glory (1990), but it caught me off-guard in the best possible way. I'm not endorsing booze and drugs as a way of life, and even with Neil - who makes drug references in this song and the next - he's got a stance against "hard drugs" (see "The Needle And The Damage Done" and all of his so-called "Ditch Trilogy") while still advocating marijuana use. McCartney has the same position. Still, it's shocking to hear Neil mention drugs without talking about someone dying "out on the mainline" or how he "watched the needle take another man." Then comes that great guitar solo, heralded by Neil's declaration "I was born to rock!", showing Neil favoring the flannel/t-shirt/holey jeans image on this disc, rather than the tasseled-jacket and cowboy hat-donning bard of his softer modes.

One of the best opening tracks ever. It's defiant, it's mildly profane, and it's fun. I'm still really weird about live albums, even if Rust Never Sleeps was originally live but heavily overdubbed (or, in the case of some of the side A tracks, leftovers from the aborted Homegrown album or 1978's Comes A Time). For me, this is the first time we've heard from Crazy Horse in the studio since "Like A Hurricane," and even that was recorded two years before it was put out - a candidate for Homegrown and possibly Zuma (1975).

02. Surfer Joe And Moe The Sleaze [9]
This song keeps a fun, this-album-should-be-played-at-parties vibe going. The chorus beckons us to join Neil and the Horse "for a pleasure cruise / Plenty of women and plenty of booze." Though there's little significance to the nomenclature, it's allegedly a playful ribbing of Reprise honchos Joe Smith and Mo Ostin. Of all the songs on the album, this one, "Southern Pacific," and "Shots" are largely praised as the ones worth a damn. Alexis Petridis, in his entry on Neil in the Kill Your Idols series, blasts the rest of the album in favor of this song.

Maybe it's the guitar solo.

The reason this song, as much as I enjoy it, merited a 9 rather than a 10 is because it borrows a little too much from two other, distinct songs: "Proud Mary" by Creedence Clearwater Revival in a quick blast before the first verse and, surprisingly, "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" by The Beatles during the verses and solo, with that minor-key descending pattern ringing just a little too familiar. But it's too damn fun for me to demerit it to anything below a 9.

03. T-Bone [10]
"The night we recorded that we didn't have anything else happening [...] I just made up the lyrics and we did the whole thing that night. It was a one-take thing. It seems the lyrics were just on my mind. It's very repetitive but I'm not such an inventive guy. I thought those two lines were good." -- Neil Young

The two lines, that make up the entire lyric for this sprawling 9-minute, 15-second jam?

"Got mashed potato, ain't got no t-bone!"

I wish I was making this up. Neil considers this his favorite off the album, not unlike his favoring of "Union Man" off Hawks & Doves. The more I learn about the guy - in early November I'll be speaking on Rust Never Sleeps at a popular culture conference in Boston, so Neil's been on the brain of late - the weirder he gets! With Zappa, you expect weirdness and instead find a very articulate composer masquerading as a rock guitarist. But with Neil, it's this weird dude from Manitoba who - as if genres are really worth a shit - is as much garage rock as he is folk/country, with notable forays into electronica, rockabilly, Stax-ready R&B, brassy jazz/blues...and that's just his oeuvre.

This is saying nothing about the man behind the sideburns. Eighteen days into a three-month tour with The Stills-Young Band, he asked his bus driver to turn around from Atlanta and take him to LA, leaving a note for Stephen Stills that read:
"Dear Stephen,
Funny how some things that start spontaneously end that way.
Eat a peach,
Neil"

Um, huh?

"T-Bone" presents Neil at his head-scratchingly weirdest thus far, with Crazy Horse providing a hypnotic garage drone while he solos away, occasionally stepping up to the mic to remind us that he still has no meat entree to accompany his starchy side-dish, and in no uncertain terms.

Now, I can see the potential for why any sane individual would hate this song. But that's where John Q. Public and I differ. When I think of this song as a logical treatment of minimalist aesthetics, with a static background to support Neil's wonderful improvisations as he increasingly distorts his guitar tone, it's bloody brilliant. Give those guitar solos a chance...he does some interesting things.

Bottom line: they're having fun. If this had turned up on a concert bootleg, critics would fawn over it as a deft guitar workout. We're all fickle little bitches.

04. Get Back On It [5.5]
The first two seconds, with its chugging snare pattern and galloping piano, paired with that title, almost immediately made me think of The Beatles' own "Get Back," which McCartney had described as "a song to rollercoast to." Thankfully, Neil has already made a Beatles quote once already, before we climbed that musical Everest that is "T-Bone." The song quickly turns into a song about...well...it's about driving to escape something. Not quite sure what. Neil hadn't toured in three years by this point, so unless this rather inconsequential number had been in the can for a while (though this sounds more like hastily-written filler), it's just a ditty about hitting the highway. It's harmless, kind of a 12-bar blues pattern set to an accented 16th-note snare beat, but it's short and a little too static (yeah, because "T-Bone" wasn't static - not at all!).

Throw in that it's closing an otherwise stellar A-side and the fact that Neil just sounds tired here (must have worn himself out lamenting for a damn t-bone!) and, I'm sorry, we have a dud. I don't hate it, I won't skip over it in the course of listening to the album...but it's just kinda there.

05. Southern Pacific [10]
Remember under "T-Bone" when I talked about how weird Neil is? Neil owned a stake in Lionel Trains until last year. Maybe he's just an overgrown kid - bringing us to the stage show that accompanied the Rust Never Sleeps tour...but I'll save that for the conference speech... - but that's alternately cool and just plain odd. It's one thing to write songs about cars. They're manly, and while I don't consider myself a "car guy" I still recognize makes and models, and yes, driving is fun. I kind of miss it here in New York. So it's not at all odd for Neil to sing about hitting the road, it's not even all that strange that he took a 1959 Lincoln and had it engineered to get over 100 miles per gallon. It isn't even that strange that he wrote an album about it...but trains? Trains?

Hmm. It almost - ALMOST - suffers from having the same beat, just a hair slower, than on "Get Back On It," but the rest of the group is in great form. Then there's the lyrics, where the narrator is a train engineer forced into retirement due to bad vision (as you know, Neil was 65 years old at the time and a former train engineer himself. Not really. That's what makes it so WEIRD!) and ruminates on who/what he used to be. It's essentially a folk tune, championing the working man, but set to thumping, brooding music. And his guitar growls and screeches like a locomotive.

"Now I'm left to roll / On the long decline" - what a heart-wrenching stance on the protagonist's forced retirement.

Naysayers of this record be damned!

06. Motor City [9.5]
A double-time electric country, its main lick cribbing both Johnny Cash's "Ring Of Fire" and a drop of "It Ain't Me Babe" by Bob Dylan. Ignore that, though, it's a funny song, about a cranky feller upset to hear that Detroit isn't the heart of car production, that there's "too many Datsuns / In this town." He favors driving around an old army jeep that "ain't got no digital clock" while the backing vocals add, as a comedic aside, "ain't got no clock." It rollicks along until the chorus, where Neil sings quite well - a bit of an oddity on his heavier albums - and aside from the occasional blast of what I call Neil's "farting guitar tone" (see "Hey, Hey, My, My") this is a fairly clean number. A very memorable song, unique for not being the overdrive-based rock that propels most of this album, but also for clever lyrics and a dual solo between Neil and rhythm guitarist Frank "Poncho" Sampedro.

I should also give props to Billy Talbot and Ralph Molina, respectively on bass and drums, who make up a rhythm section as solid as concrete. They give old Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts a run for their money, except Mr. Molina doesn't have the jazz training of Charlie Watts, making Crazy Horse's backbone almost unrepentantly solid. The phrase "no bullshit" is used - by me - to describe their playing, and I mean that with the utmost respect.

07. Rapid Transit [10]
The reviews of Reactor I've read all mention this song for being Neil's venture into New Wave; the reactions of the writers vary. Some think he's taking a swipe at the music, but having read the (fairly minimalist) lyrics, I don't quite see that. That staggered riff smacks of "I'm A Man" by The Spencer Davis Group, while Neil's absurdist "R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rapid transit" (rolling his r's) and his other stuttering intros to each line channels David Byrne of Talking Heads.

He sings "Every wave is new until it breaks," after a repeated phrase of "Hang ten pipeline, let's go trippin'!", but again I don't think that's a dig at New Wave. This is the guy whose "Sedan Delivery" on Rust Never Sleeps some two years prior, melding the electric amphetamine Dylan with punk, with another memorable "What the Hell?" Neil lyric to boot. To me, that line about new waves is more about the term itself. It's a dumb name...much like in the art world how "Modernism" was a trend, only now we've since had "Post-Modernism" and "Contemporary" arts. I've mused to Shelley that in another ten years it will be "New Art," then "Just Made Art," before we eventually return to just calling it art.

Perhaps it's a warning, and why not? He asked before if Johnny Rotten would go the way of Elvis in "Hey, Hey, My, My" after declaring in its acoustic counterpart that it would be, imparting that old versus new is simply a state of mind. Neil was all of 36 when Reactor was released, but he'd lived a lifetime in the 1970's. He'd been lumped in with the darlings of singer-songwriters because of Harvest's runaway success in 1972, created among the most harrowing music in the rock world with Time Fades Away, On The Beach, and Tonight's The Night, never mind his earlier outings with Crazy Horse, where their garage-ready sounds (they literally recorded their first album, when they were called The Rockets, in a garage) proved a perfect match after Young quit Buffalo Springfield.

"Every wave is new until it breaks." Separate that from the music. It's a profound statement on the impermanence of life, hinted at on "Southern Pacific" and played up a great deal on the bookending tracks from Rust. That's a line just as striking as "Once you're gone / You can't come back / When you're out of the blue and into the black."

In short, since there's only one song left, I don't think it's any sort of rockist indictment of New Wave music. If he'd had some bone to pick he would have found himself rendered irrelevant in the late 1970's, when all the lads from his generation had to prove their worth against the young upstarts and art students at CBGB's, the politicized English punks, and the even more diverse punk scenes on the West Coast. And seriously, if Neil hated New Wave, I don't think he would have done it while paying homage to the band I consider its poster child: Talking Heads.

So there.

08. Shots [11]
And here we are at the album's finale...it feels like I'm talking about an action movie, but it is quite literally an explosive tune, with gunshots and other violent sounds throughout.

Neil breaks out the farting Rust tone again on his guitar, at times indiscernible from the guns and machine noises. He solos at every possible chance, and in what I consider a compliment, his vocal is reminiscent of Pete Townshend's. Molina's marching cadence sustains for the song's entire 7:40 run-time, and yet the song never drags or feels stagnant. With or without the gunshots, this is epic music that even haters of "T-Bone" can enjoy.

Then there's the lyrics. It's a plea for unity - "Who knows where or when old wounds will mend?" - and also a proclamation of hatred for the ills of the world, from sexual infidelity to border disputes to the "shots" he keeps hearing. In spite of the song's musically brutal nature, there is some sense of beauty in such a frank artistic expression. There's passion in this song. Unlike too many other songs that run over six minutes in length which go flat like Diet Coke in a warm can (laugh if you want, try it - in fifteen minutes you'll be holding aspartame-sweetened caramel-flavored acid in an aluminum can), this stays interesting without shifting direction or tone.

Sure, that guitar tone is the exact same six-stringed buzzsaw we heard on "Hey, Hey, My, My (Into The Black)," but damn it's good.

Subtotal: 93.75% A

Replayability Factor: 3
I could replay this album again and again. And I have. In the week that I've had my desktop back I've heard this record three times. It's terrific, and while it's hardly the only Neil album I can do this with - Rust, Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, Time Fades Away - it certainly bears an elite status as being something that doesn't drive me up the wall. Okay, maybe it does...but in a good way. (See "T-Bone.")

Consistency Factor: 1.5
Pegging Neil down is tricky. Don't even try. You think you have him figured out, but then you pick up Trans and go, "Oh. Sounds like Kraftwerk. Neil Young sounding like Kraftwerk?" and promptly phone up the Devil and ask how he's faring amidst the massive snowfall that has hit the Kingdom of Hell. But as far as the true essentials - one column I do enjoy at The A.V. Club is their "Gateways To Geekery," where noobs are given a bit of guidance in terms of approaching what would be an otherwise daunting source of entertainment; they've done French New Wave cinema, Kiss, anime, etc. - and I say this with "Gateways To Geekery" firmly in mind as the standard, I'd say the essential Neil Young is the stuff just about everyone seems to agree upon. This omits Harvest right out if you ask me, but I think we can all agree on Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere and Tonight's The Night and even Rust Never Sleeps, each for their own merits. I wrote about Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere a small eternity ago, but I can still say it's probably the safest catch-all "Here you go, let me know how you like it" album in his catalog.

That said, and I apologize for one of my tilt factors being so overlong, I would say Reactor straddles being among the immediate runner-up tier and the "for the fans" tier. It's somewhere in between those two; if you liked Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, you'll probably like Zuma as well as Reactor (that's why I'm so shocked by the dislike awarded to this album, to me it feels like a logical continuation of manifesto-free rock and roll from those two earlier ones!) I guess this means I have a new numerical ranking, the 1.5, the rating for albums with "if you liked album X, then you'll probably like THIS."

External Factors: 2
Maybe I'm over-sensitive about this, as someone who has settling down and raising a family in the (still somewhat) distant future, but Neil and his wife Pegi's son Ben was born with cerebral palsy. He became the center of the world, and somewhere in the midst of that Pegi had a brain operation done to save her own life. That he focused on being a caring, devoted husband and father to a physically handicapped child is most noble and admirable. His music took a back-burner on this album and the last, although the song "Staying Power" was a salute to his and Pegi's marriage, which is going strong in its 31st year as of this writing.

At allmusic, William Ruhlmann rather cruelly concludes his review of Reactor with this:
"Still, he might have been better advised to have suspended record-making for a few years instead of turning out half-baked efforts like this one."

The idea of turning to art (music, prose, painting) as therapy or escape is one of the fundamental purposes of art, neck and neck with portraying beauty or what one's definition of beauty is. Who the Hell are we to say Neil Young should have taken a hiatus from doing what he loved?

Beyond the personal reasons there's the fact that this album doesn't suffer sounding like the 1980's. It could have been a shelved Crazy Horse album from 1978. Or 1976. Much further and their heavy tones would have been brand-spankin' new, especially in the wake of punk.

Total: 100.25%, rounded to 100.3% A+

Welcome to The 100 Plus Club, Neil. I am no doubt in the minority holding this disc in such high regard, but we mustn't forget this is ALEXwritesaboutstuff.blogspot.com and not SOMEONEELSEwritesaboutstuff.blogspot.com.

On a slightly personal note, it's good to be back, with my feet firmly on the ground and my iTunes library just a few clicks away. Soon to be unearthed and listened to (probably not until after the conference in Boston) are Buffalo Springfield, who come highly recommended from Glenn Gass himself, Todd Rundgren's work beyond the coked-out A Wizard, A True Star, Patti Smith, Love, Be Bop Deluxe, Peter Gabriel-era Genesis, The Moody Blues, Smashing Pumpkins, never mind the artists I already know and love, but just haven't gotten to yet...I promise I'll get to The Residents, eventually. It's just the album I'm really keen on, The Third Reich And Roll (1976), is hard to write about being two separate LP-side length sound collages.

And seriously, Dylan.

Be back again soon.