Don't take the title of Just Can't Get Enough: New Wave Christmas too literally. Though there are a number of new wave artists here -- XTC, Squeeze and the Pretenders among them -- the album actually plays like an alternative rock collection, reaching back to the notorious David Bowie & Bing Crosby duet on "Little Drummer Boy" to the Pogues and Throwing Muses. Of course, that complaint isn't a serious one -- the music on Just Can't Get Enough: New Wave Christmas is entertaining and several tracks are genuine alternative rock classics. More importantly, most of the material on the disc is very rare, so the album functions as a convient way to gather an abundence of offbeat new wave and alternative tracks. The record doesn't really gel into a cohesive listening experience, but as a grab-bag sampler, it's fun.
The Spanish Elefant label spends years releasing singles, EPs, and albums that are gifts for lovers of sweetly sung, perfectly crafted indie pop, so why not do something special for Xmas? For A Christmas Gift for You from Elefant Records, they rounded up an impressive lineup of acts and gave them the mission of concocting new holiday songs. From the spunky punky "You Trashed My Christmas" by the ageless Primitives to the sugar rush of the School's "You're Coming Home Tonight" -- and the large number of songs that take the classic Phil Spector Christmas album as a template -- the artists all rise to the challenge and dole out brightly wrapped, thoughtfully chosen presents that are warm and festive. Any indie pop lover would be totally stoked to find that the jolly fat guy had left this wonderful package under the tree.
When it was initially released in the mid-'80s, the Colour Field's Virgins and Philistines had little in common with most of the albums recorded during that decade. The passing of years has only strengthened the LP's timeless appeal. Plucking sounds from the late '60s and early '70s, the Colour Field created an album that will never be dated because it cannot be attached to a specific era. The mournful violin and sultry Latin rhythms of "Castles in the Air" represent the apex of vocalist Terry Hall's artistry. Hopelessly romantic, "Castles in the Air" yearns for lost love with a filmmaker's eye and a poet's ear. There are two versions of "Castles in the Air" on the Japanese CD reissue of Virgins and Philistines, the second of which has a lengthy instrumental intro; both are stunningly beautiful. The Japanese edition of Virgins and Philistines actually eclipses the original. First of all, there are more songs: 20 instead of merely 12. The bonus tracks include a dreamy cover of "Windmills of Your Mind," an instrumental rendition of "Thinking of You," and the rare B-side "My Wild Flame," essentially a rewrite of "The Colour Field." "Pushing Up Daisies" can be found on either version; however, on CD the track's thorny guitar riffs and sullen basslines have greater punch. "Pushing Up Daisies" offers a sobering look at withering stardom; Hall may write from a downcast, cynical perspective, but his unpretentious, honest lyrics are always hummable. Hall expresses more emotion on Virgins and Philistines than he ever did with his previous groups, the Specials and Fun Boy Three. On "Take," Hall sings, "You just take/And pile on the agony." The pain in Hall's voice rips through the song's cozy layer of acoustic guitars. The remake of "Can't Get Enough of You Baby" is the only track on the LP that received radio airplay in the U.S., and it's misleading; nothing else on the album is that upbeat. Although the album looks to the past for inspiration, it's never retro; the music is frozen in suspended animation, always fresh whenever it's heard.
The Darling Buds may have echoed the prevailing trends of the British music scene, but they could never be faulted for mere mimicry or want of imagination. What they lacked in the originality department they more than made up for with stellar musical execution and the undeniable talent of lead singer and songwriter Andrea Lewis. Repeated listens to Erotica (released just prior to Madonna's LP of the same title) should convince the harshest cynic that the Darling Buds absorbed, rather than plagiarized, what they listened to. You can hear strains of My Bloody Valentine's guitar rush and Swervedriver's scrawl and scream in "Please Yourself"; it's undeniably a fantastic song. Also, not too many songwriters of the time were as bold or articulate as Lewis, as she is here. "One Thing Leads to Another" (not a Fixx cover), "Isolation" (not a Joy Division cover), and "Long Day in the Universe" rival anything that the British charts had to offer at the time; heck, any of the ten songs here sound like great singles. The DBs continued to expand themselves rhythmically and make further strides into sophisticated pop, managing to make a third successive album that's top-to-toe fantastic.
Pearl Jam went all out and delivered not one but three reissues, all in increasing levels of lavishness. First off is a standard two-CD set, followed by a triple-disc set that adds a DVD of the band's 1992 performance for MTV Unplugged and then there's a gargantuan, frankly ludicrous, collectors edition that has all that plus four slabs of vinyl containing the two mixes of the album plus a 1992 live show, one cassette that replicates the original demo Eddie Vedder turned in as his audition, and assorted memorabilia that retails for $200.00. All this commotion camouflages the really noteworthy aspect of this anniversary edition: Pearl Jam brought in their longtime producer Brendan O'Brien to remix Ten from the ground up, to strip away the studio affectations of producer Rick Parashar and mixer Tim Palmer that made it a bright, shiny anomaly during the dingy heyday of grunge and make the album sound more liked the rest of the band's work (which O'Brien produced, after all). This isn't full-scale cultural revisionism on the order of George Lucas -- the original album is preserved in remastered form on the first disc -- nor is it akin to the massive reworking of Raw Power that took liberties with the aesthetics of a classic, altering some crucial reasons why it was influential, but rather like a director's cut that's designed to be closer to the artist's original intentions.
Since Ten is the odd man out among Pearl Jam's albums -- its shimmering surfaces and gated rhythms too eager to crossover -- this revision also seems logical, bringing it closer to the sound and feel of Vs. and Vitalogy without drastically altering its character. Actually, it's quite arguable that this lean, muscular remix is a marked improvement on the original mix, as it's easier to focus on both the songs and group's interplay. The only room for complaint is that for a deluxe reissue this seems to skimp on the bonus tracks, never bothering to include all the relevant non-LP songs from Ten. It's seems that the logic behind their absence is that they're all available on the compilation Lost Dogs and the bonus material here is all unreleased: a version of "Brother" with vocals (an instrumental was on Lost Dogs), early versions of "Breath and a Scream" and "State of Love and Trust" recorded a year before the Singles soundtrack, and the unreleased "Just a Girl," "2000 Mile Blues," and "Evil Little Goat." Although the latter two sound like the unfinished outtakes they are, it's still nice to have all this material in circulation, but even so it doesn't feel quite right to have a reissue of Ten that misses the B-side "Yellow Ledbetter," a song that received a lot of radio play during the peak of the album's popularity. It also doesn't feel right to have that original demo available only as a cassette in the super-deluxe version of Ten -- or to have the live show only on vinyl, for that matter -- when it would have been easy to expand the set out to three CDs and have this material available for everyone, but in a sense, that's nitpicking: the mad collectors are going to invest in the $200.00 set while the less dedicated will be happy with the remix which is certainly reason enough to justify this entire multi-format project. [A deluxe edition was also released.]
By 1988, R.E.M. were unlikely megastars in the making. The band who had pretty much invented college rock with their strange, inscrutable lyricism and folky guitar jangle were moving from cult status into inevitable mainstream success. The year before, they’d released Document, a dark and monolithic set of deeply-serious songs that had spawned their first top ten single in the form of the anti-love song The One I Love and with sales on an upwards curve, Warners (who had already harvested The Replacements, The B52s and Hüsker Dü) came calling with designs on U2-like crossover for the Georgian four piece.
R.E.M. almost reluctantly and with a huge amount of mischief (the title of Green is as much a comment on the mega dollar deal they signed as the environmental themes that dominate the album) delivered a bright and bold commercial album that still stands as a master class in how a band can remain resolute to their own vision while rising above big business demands. Act local; think global indeed.
Full of what R.E.M. themselves called big dumb bubblegum pop songs including the Doors-referencing Pop Song 89 and the eco-anthem Stand (another top ten hit), Green was Michael Stipe, Peter Buck, Mike Mills and Bill Berry loosening up, having fun and enjoying the sunlit uplands after foraging on the forest floor for so long.
Following Stipe’s instruction to his band mates “not to write any more R.E.M. type songs", accordions, mandolins, a thing as verboten as a wha-wha guitar solo, and much instrument swapping took place in Ardent Studios in Memphis and Bearsville in Woodstock. So Green’s first side signals a determination to escape their reputation as serious and politicised young men – Pop Song 89 knowingly throws shapes with hackneyed rock `n’ roll riffs and subverts pop songs clichés; Get Up! is a joyful call to arms complete with the sound of multiple musical boxes being sprung open at the same time; You Are The Everything sings beatifically with Buck’s chirpy mandolin and on World Leader Pretend, Stipe even drops his mask and determines to embrace life only, of course, with Mike Mills keening the word “dreamer” in the background.
But it was all a prelude to the dark heart of the album. For all that sunshine and sixties-style optimism, R.E.M. were still a turbulent bunch and Green takes on a darker hue starting with The Wrong Child, an off-key ballad inspired by Dublin writer Christopher Nolan’s book Under The Eye of The Clock. I Remember California really does blot out the sun as R.E.M. recalls the West Coast Shangri La as a ruined world with Trident submarines patrolling the oceans and the San Andreas Fault yawning open to swallow the whole place up.
R.E.M.’s very own Led Zep moment, Turn You Inside, is similarly apocalyptic, a power chording epic that is actually about, well, having meaningless and vengeful sex. Orange Crush, a leftover from Document, which concerns itself with on-going US militarism provided another unlikely hit single. They did close with Green’s most upbeat and optimistic song – Untitled, a lovely childlike moment in which the band members once again swap instruments as an act of solidarity in the face of what was to come next.
This is a welcome 25th anniversary re-mastered reissue and Warners continue their nostalgia drive with the inclusion of a very good 21-track live album recorded in Greensboro Coliseum in North Carolina in 1989 including many of the terrific songs here and older classics such as Finest Worksong, It’s The End of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) and Perfect Circle.
Maybe R.E.M. had peaked creatively with Document and Life’s Rich Pageant but Green was the start of phase two. It still sounds marvellous - dream-like one minute - strident and clear-eyed the next and it is another reminder that R.E.M.’s sudden split two years ago leaves an almost eerie vacuum. Were they ever here? Will a major rock band be this consistently good again?
It is almost a shock to be reminded of how great Green really was
Cast's All Change serves as the perfect antidote to the inner rage fueling much American alternative rock -- it would be hard to imagine a more gloriously upbeat backbeat of a guitar pop record, one that appeals to the eternal adolescent in each of us. The group's pedigree derives from good stock, founder John Power having served time with another fine Mersey combo the La's. But Cast transcends the hackneyed expectations of its environment, structure, and genetics through sheer, relentless quality of songcraft and performance. No sooner has one wide-eyed, hook-infested injection stormed the synapses demanding total capitulation than another of equal potency lines up to take its place. Cast vocals recall Small Faces-era Steve Marriott fused, in places, to Suede's Brett Anderson. There's a soft-psych feel to several tracks (try "Sandstorm") that calls to mind "Pictures of Matchstick Men"-era Status Quo; Cast has clearly assimilated several volumes of Bam Caruso's Rubble and A.I.P.'s Electric Sugarcube Flashbacks series, without sacrificing its power-Mod backbone. Production is brittle and uncluttered. On the lyrics front, all is positively cheery, anthemic stuff about truth, honor, living well, having fun and getting the girl, delivered exuberantly enough to strip away several coats of accumulated cynicism and almost make you believe it's possible. Two favorites are the shifting falsetto angst anthem "Tell It Like Is" and the ballad "Walk Away" -- a clue to how Mott the Hoople's "Roll Away the Stone" would have come out recorded in 1967.
By the time Ocean Colour Scene released their debut album in 1992, they were already considered has-beens. The band had formed during the height of Madchester, but they never released their first album until the scene was already dead, which left them without a following. But between their debut and their second album, 1996's Moseley Shoals, a strange thing happened -- the band was taken under the wings of two of Britain's biggest pop stars, Paul Weller and Noel Gallagher. The band suddenly catapulted back into the spotlight because of its superstar connections, but the music actually deserved the attention. Ocean Colour Scene had spent the time between their two albums improving their sound. On Moseley Shoals, they are looser, funkier, and have a strong, organic R&B vibe that was inherited from the Small Faces and Weller's solo recordings. They sprinkle Beatlesque and Stonesy flourishes throughout the album, as well as the odd prog rock flair, adding an even more eclectic flavor to their traditionalist pop/rock. Ocean Colour Scene are still developing their songwriting skills -- the sound is more impressive than the songs throughout Moseley Shoals -- but their second album is an unexpectedly enjoyable record.
Paul Weller deservedly regained his status as the Modfather with his second solo album, Wild Wood. Actually, the album is only tangentially related to mod, since Weller picks up on the classicism of his debut, adding heavy elements of pastoral British folk and Traffic-styled trippiness. Add to that a yearning introspection and a clean production that nevertheless feels a little rustic, even homemade, and the result is his first true masterwork since ending the Jam. The great irony of the record is that many of the songs -- "Has My Fire Really Gone Out?," "Can You Heal Us (Holy Man)" -- question his motivation and, as is apparent in his spirited performances, he reawakened his music by writing these searching songs. Though this isn't as adventurous as the Style Council, it succeeds on its own terms, and winds up being a great testament from an artist entering middle age. And, it helped kick off the trad rock that dominated British music during the '90s.
The Charlatans made a surprising comeback in 1995, turning in an eponymous album that earned them their best reviews and sales ever. Tellin' Stories, the follow-up to The Charlatans, should have been triumphant, but tragedy struck midway through its recording, when keyboardist Rob Collins was killed in a car accident. Collins was an integral part of the band's lineup, creating a distinctive, swirling, neo-psychedelic sound, and it seemed unlikely that the band could carry on without him, much less record a record as earthy and warm as Tellin' Stories. Primal Scream's Martin Duffy volunteered to help the band complete the album, which was basically written before Collins' death, and that might explain why there are no overt references to his absence anywhere on the album. Instead, Tellin' Stories is another collection of classicist rock & roll spiked with dance beats, much like any other Charlatans album. Where its predecessor was more informed by mechanized beats, the rhythms are more organic, which perfectly suits the rolling "North Country Boy," the sweeping "One to Another," and the heart-tugging "How Can You Leave Us?" And, like any other Charlatans album, it doesn't quite hold together, falling apart with instrumentals and ill-conceived songs toward the end. On the whole, however, Tellin' Stories is more consistent than their earlier records, and the best songs showcase the band at its strongest, which is quite an achievement considering the traumas the Charlatans underwent during its recording. More than anything, that's a fitting salute to Collins.
Routinely named as the greatest British album of the past 20 years in British music mag polls, sometimes rivaling such sacred cows as Revolver whenever those publications decide to do a Greatest Albums Ever list, The Stone Roses remains one of those classic albums that somehow defies translation across the pond. To be sure, it's not that the British overrate the Stone Roses. Rather, it's that the U.S., apart from some Anglophiles and Gen-Xers, missed the golden moment when the Stone Roses were the best band in the world, capturing a crystalline moment where nostalgia for the Summer of Love refracted through the prism of burgeoning acid house. Unlike the Happy Mondays, the Stone Roses weren't really immersed in the pulsating E-underworld of raves, but their music was certainly informed by this new thumping psychedelia as much as it was by the '60s jangle, which is why the Stone Roses can feel somewhat out of time even as it thoroughly, undeniably is about its moment.
That timelessness is one of the chief reasons The Stone Roses endures as a modern classic and why it's been given this spectacular 20th Anniversary reissue. There are multiple editions, all of interest: a basic remastered single-disc, an extensive two-disc/one-DVD set that pairs the original album with a "Lost Demos" CD and video of a live show from Blackpool Empress Ballroom, then finally, a gargantuan set that has all this, plus another disc that rounds up the non-LP singles and B-sides as well as more extensive liner notes, art prints, and a USB disc with unreleased backwards tracks, music videos, and other collector's treats. All this is a fanatics treasure, and there is quite a bit of musical worth here too, especially on the B-sides, which may have already been reissued on Made of Stone but is nice to have paired here. Still, the main revelation of the "Lost Demos" is how perfect John Leckie's production of The Stone Roses is. On these demos, the songs are firmly intact but the colors are muted, and Ian Brown's notoriously wobbly vocals are quite shaky; they are clearly a blueprint, not a final product. Listening to the full album after the demos, The Stone Roses seems even more wondrous: Leckie coaxed the right performances out of all four members, letting Mani and Reni lock into a muscular, fluid groove, encouraging John Squire to paint as vividly with his guitar as he did in his artwork, finding a way for Ian Brown to seem swaggering and spectral simultaneously, a resurrection whose adoration was an inevitability. For longtime fans, this is reason enough to dig into this deluxe anniversary edition, and for those who have never known, there's no better place to get enchanted.
If Definitely Maybe was an unintentional concept album about wanting to be a rock & roll star, (What's the Story) Morning Glory? is what happens after the dreams come true. Oasis turns in a relatively introspective second record, filled with big, gorgeous ballads instead of ripping rockers. Unlike Definitely Maybe, the production on Morning Glory is varied enough to handle the range in emotions; instead of drowning everything with amplifiers turned up to 12, there are strings, keyboards, and harmonicas. This expanded production helps give Noel Gallagher's sweeping melodies an emotional resonance that he occasionally can't convey lyrically. However, that is far from a fatal flaw; Gallagher's lyrics work best in fragments, where the images catch in your mind and grow, thanks to the music. Gallagher may be guilty of some borrowing, or even plagiarism, but he uses the familiar riffs as building blocks. This is where his genius lies: He's a thief and doesn't have many original thoughts, but as a pop/rock melodicist he's pretty much without peer. Likewise, as musicians, Oasis are hardly innovators, yet they have a majestic grandeur in their sound that makes ballads like "Wonderwall" or rockers like "Some Might Say" positively transcendent. Alan White does add authority to the rhythm section, but the most noticeable change is in Liam Gallagher. His voice sneered throughout Definitely Maybe, but on Morning Glory his singing has become more textured and skillful. He gives the lyric in the raging title track a hint of regret, is sympathetic on "Wonderwall," defiant on "Some Might Say," and humorous on "She's Electric," a bawdy rewrite of "Digsy's Diner." It might not have the immediate impact of Definitely Maybe, but Morning Glory is just as exciting and compulsively listenable. [In 2014, just a year shy of its 20th anniversary, (What's The Story) Morning Glory? received a super-deluxe reissue weighing in at three CDs. The first of the CDs features a remastered version of the original album, while the second CD rounds up nearly all the non-LP B-sides (a live 1995 "Live Forever" is missing), plus "Bonehead's Bank Holiday" -- a delightful, ragged novelty which was originally released only on the vinyl edition of Morning Glory -- and a cover of "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away," which appeared only on the Japanese "Some Might Say" single. This collection of flipsides is nearly as good as the proper album, and some of the songs should've made the proper album: "Talk Tonight" is Noel Gallagher's best ballad, "Acquiesce" crystallizes the tension of the brothers Gallagher, "Step Out" is a wild reinvention of Stevie Wonder's "Uptight (Everything Is Alright)" (which is why it was cut from the record at the last minute), "Round Are Way" belongs to the Ian Dury/Madness tradition -- and it'd be enough to justify a re-purchase of the album, particularly for anybody who loves Morning Glory but never had the accompanying singles. Nevertheless, the third disc is the real treat for hardcore fans, as it has unheard demos of "Some Might Say," "She's Electric," "Rockin' Chair," and "Hey Now," along with live performances highlighted by an MTV Unplugged take on "Round Are Way" featuring Noel on vocals. Apart from an excised verse of a demo of "Bonehead's Bank Holiday," there are no great revelations but each cut is excellent, offering confirmation that Oasis were indeed in their imperial phase during Morning Glory.]
Months after the release of the harrowing The Holy Bible, Manic Street Preachers guitarist Richey James disappeared, leaving no trace of his whereabouts or his well-being. Ultimately, the remaining trio decided to carry on, releasing their fourth album, Everything Must Go, in 1996. Considering the tragic circumstances that surrounded it, Everything Must Go is the strongest, most focused, and certainly the most optimistic album the Manics ever released. Five of the songs feature lyrics James left behind before his disappearance, and while offering no motivation for his actions, they do hint at the depths of his despair. Nicky Wire wrote the remaining lyrics, and his songs give the record its weight and balance, confronting the issue of James' disappearance in a roundabout way, never explicitly mentioning the topic but offering a gritty dose of realistic optimism offering the hope that things will get better; after the nihilism of The Holy Bible, the outlook is all the more inspiring. Furthermore, the Manics' musical attack has become leaner; their music still rages, but it's channeled into concise, anthemic rock songs that soar on their own belief. Above all, Everything Must Go is a cathartic experience -- it is genuinely moving to hear the Manics offering hope without sinking to mawkish sentimentality or collapsing under the weight of their situation. [The 2006 edition features a host of bonus features on two CDs and one DVD. The first CD offers up the entire album (remastered) along with six previously unreleased live tracks. The second CD features unreleased rehearsals, demos, alternate versions and rare B-sides
In the late '90s, a rash of Welsh rock bands emerged, among them Catatonia, Super Furry Animals, 60 Ft. Dolls, and the Stereophonics. On the surface, the Stereophonics' gritty rock & roll seems relatively uninspired, but upon close listen Word Gets Around proves to be a very accomplished debut. Vocalist/guitarist Kelly Jones' vocals are raw and rip the songs apart, as his loud, arena-ready guitar assault gives every track a gritty edge. Jones' lyrics are also of note; highly poetic and meaningful, he writes about the underbelly of a small town. The anthemic opener, the outrageously catchy "A Thousand Trees," details how a respected high school athletic coach ruined his career through a lurid sexual encounter with a female student, and the quick, jagged "More Life in a Tramp's Vest" displays the view of the world through the eyes of a supermarket bag boy. Word Gets Around isn't all about hard rockers, though; the hit "Traffic" is a beautifully constructed ballad that works marvelously when a juxtaposition is made between the music and Jones' rough vocal styling. While Word Gets Around occasionally suffers from blandness, it is a remarkably accomplished debut LP.
Following an LP that was slagged by even the group themselves before release, the Beta Band got down to business for their second proper record. While their self-titled debut reveled in a near-blinding collage of samples, synthpads, noise, and obtuse figures, for Hot Shots II the group took a much different path. Many of the tracks are (comparatively) quiet songs, the productions pared down to minimal proportions and focused on slow, darkly descending chords. The band's methods are innovative as before, but now they've taken on the challenge of saying more with less -- with fewer production fragments to obscure the songs, they're left to survive on their own. During the opener "Squares," a minute passes before the song even begins to make sense; a few glimpses of beats and basslines are the only accompaniment to Stephen Mason's chanted vocals, until the chorus sweeps in to reveal a tight, beautiful trip-hop-with-strings production. "Gone" does well with just bass, piano, and background vocals from the band. Elsewhere, the Beta Band rely on spare bits -- stuttered acoustic guitar samples, whining melodica, regal horns in the background -- to get their point across, but aren't afraid to rock out either. While the songwriting certainly isn't direct, it's much less consciously inscrutable compared to the madcap toss-offs spread over The Beta Band. Understandably suspicious when the group promised an even better record their second time out, listeners have the proof with Hot Shots II.
From the first few seconds of Steve Mason's first full-length under his own name (following one as King Biscuit Time and one as Black Affair), the results could be a Beta Band reunion in full force, with all the crushing beats and junk-shop audio detritus to boot. But it soon becomes clear that Mason's production partner, Richard X, is having a subtle influence, one that pushes Boys Outside into adult alternative territory. While that may be worrisome for Mason's long-time fans, it bodes well for those who have long wondered whether his voice would always remain one of the best-kept secrets in the alternative/indie world. Compared to Beta Band material, the songs here are given a sharper touch but also a softer focus, and Mason's vocals (always a highlight of the records he appeared on) are given the foreground. His vocals still evoke some sort of Scottish high lonesome sound, although his range hasn't expanded much in a dozen years of music-making. (Considering his dearth of material over the past eight years, most listeners will be thankful for this.) His lyrical themes remain bewildered and self-indicting. It's easy to get the feeling that the cover, which is completely black, is an act of fatalistic self-resignation; when he sings "The river runs baby, and it calls for me," the unavoidable impression is that he'll soon be floating along in it, face down. Mason and Richard X do an excellent job of sanding off the rough edges of Mason's past Beta Band material, leaving listeners with more melodic and harmonic treats to enrich their discovery of his many lyrical delicacies. Mason's career has been one of constant starts and stops and side-project misdirections (for his fans, at least), so the straightforwardly eccentric Boys Outside is clearly a record to treasure.
Peter Gabriel's work doesn't lend itself easily to compilations -- not because he didn't cut singles, since he made many terrific stand-alone singles, but because his body of work is so idiosyncratic, even contradictory, that it's possible to have perfectly valid differing perspectives on his catalog. This results in differing opinions among fans, so it's perfectly logical that Gabriel and his associates would have a unique view of his own work, as captured on Hit. Billed on its slipcase as "The Definitive Two CD Collection," Hit spans 30 tracks culled from his entire solo career, from 1977's Peter Gabriel to 2002's Up, plus the previously unreleased "Burn You Up, Burn You Down." It certainly is a generous compilation, and it does contain the basics: "Solsbury Hill," "Shock the Monkey," "Sledgehammer," "Don't Give Up," "Games Without Frontiers," "Biko," "Red Rain," "Big Time," and "In Your Eyes." But the devil is in the details, and in this particular case, the details push Hit away from the broad-based appeal of So and closer to the dense, subtle territory of Us and Up. This is achieved, of course, through the track selection, which is heavy on recent material (note: none of the edit details are present on the back cover, hence their presence here): from Up, there's "Growing Up [Tom Lord-Alge Mix]," "More Than This [Radio Edit]," "The Drop," "I Grieve," and "Signal to Noise," which amounts to half the entire album; the previously unreleased 2003 live track "Downside Up"; "Cloudless" from the soundtrack to the 2002 Rabbit-Proof Fence and "Lovetown" from the 1994 Philadelphia soundtrack; "The Tower That Ate People [Steve Osborne Mix]" and "Father, Son" from OVO; the 1990 Shaking the Tree remake of "Here Comes the Flood"; from Us, the album track "Love to Be Loved," plus the singles "Digging in the Dirt," "Blood of Eden [Radio Edit]," and "Steam [Radio Edit]."
That's a grand total of 16 tracks dating after the career high watermark of So -- 16 tracks covering two full albums, plus a lot of odds and ends. There's unquestionably good material here -- not just the Us singles, but much of Up was quite excellent, even if it requires several listens to appreciate -- but the heavy emphasis on this post-So work skews too much to the new (nine of the 14 tracks on disc two are of relatively recent vintage), at least if the yardstick is either an evenhanded appreciation of Gabriel's entire solo work or a portrait of his best-known, best-loved work. After all, there are many singles missing -- "I Have the Touch," "I Go Swimming," "Come Talk to Me," "Kiss That Frog," and "Secret World" among them -- plus other worthy uncollected rarities (his deliriously paranoid "Out Out" from the 1984 Gremlins soundtrack needs to finally get a CD issue) and many, many terrific album tracks that would have had given this compilation greater breadth and depth, including "Moribund the Burgermeister," "Mercy Street," "Intruder," "Family Snapshot," and the tremendous pair of "On the Air" and "D.I.Y.," the two best cuts on the underrated Peter Gabriel 2 (which is once again consciously ignored by Gabriel, with this exhaustive collection featuring nothing from the record). If some of these 12 songs had managed to get on Hit, it truly would have been definitive, capturing the entire scope of his solo career. As it stands, it's a very good collection, one that delivers most of what is expected, even as it presents a relatively up-to-date self-portrait of the artist.
There are usually thought to be two phases to Robert Palmer's career: an earlier one running from 1974 to 1983, when he explored New Orleans second-line funk and reggae, backed by members of Little Feat and the Meters and turned out a series of critically acclaimed, modestly successful recordings, and a later one, from 1985 on, when he rode his good looks, some high-fashion videos, and some simplistic hard rock/pop to a series of big hits on his own and with the Power Station. This two-CD set responds to that view by devoting its first disc to the earlier phase and its second disc to the later one. Palmer switched record companies along the way, too, but Hip-O is known for its willingness to license material from other labels, and 15 of the 20 tracks on the second disc come from outside the Universal archives. Along the way, all of the singer's U.S. Top 40 hits are included, though the collection was assembled with Palmer's input, which leads to alterations from the original recordings that fans might not be entirely pleased with. For a couple of earlier compilations, Addictions, Vols. 1 and 2, he used remixes of many of his well-known recordings, and those remixes have been retained here. He has also chosen to present three favorites -- "Johnny and Mary," "Riptide," and "Looking for Clues" -- as 2001 live performances rather than in their original studio recordings. Still, the selection is well-considered. The first disc is a good summation of Palmer's first eight Island albums, and the second disc demonstrates that not all of the second half of his career sounded like "Addicted to Love," that, actually, it was far more varied than the first half. There have been several Palmer compilations, but this one is the most comprehensive yet assembled.
Nothing Has Changed is a bit of a cheeky title for a career retrospective from an artist who is known as a chameleon, and this triple-disc compilation has other tricks up its sleeve. Chief among these is sequencing the SuperDeluxe 59-track set in reverse chronological order, so it opens with the brand-new, jazz-inflected "Sue (Or in a Season of Crime)" and concludes with David Bowie's debut single, "Liza Jane." On paper, this seems a bit like a stunt, but in actuality it's a sly way to revisit and recontextualize a career that has been compiled many, many times before. Previously, there have been single discs, double discs, and triple-disc boxes, but the largest of these was Sound + Vision, a box released in 1989, and the most recent was 2002's The Best of Bowie, which featured slightly different track listings in different territories but generally stopped in the late '90s. The two-CD version of Nothing Has Changed resembles this 2002 set -- there are absences, notably "John, I'm Only Dancing," "Diamond Dogs," and "TVC15," but they're not noticed among the parade of standards -- but it's easily overshadowed by the triple-disc SuperDeluxe set. This version of Nothing Has Changed touches upon nearly every phrase of Bowie's career, bypassing Tin Machine but finding space for early pre-"Space Oddity" singles that often don't make Bowie's comps, and naturally it samples from his fine Y2K records, plus his 2013 comeback The Next Day. This expansiveness alone would be noteworthy, but when it's combined with the reverse sequencing the compilation forces listeners to reconsider an artist whose legacy seemed so set in stone it appropriately was enshrined in museums. Obvious high-water marks are undersold -- there's not as much Ziggy as usual, nor as much Berlin -- so other eras can also enter the canon, whether it's the assured maturity of the new millennium or the appealing juvenilia of the '60s. The end result is something unexpected: a compilation that makes us hear an artist we know well in a whole new way.
A 50-track anthology, Celebrate: Greatest Hits covers Simple Minds from the band's 1978 debut through 2009's Graffiti Soul. There's also a pair of decent exclusive tracks, "Blood Diamonds" and "Broken Glass Park," recorded specifically for the set. Fanatics could pick apart the track selections, but this provides a high-quality overview of the band's output. Their rapid development from 1978 through 1982 -- a period represented with the likes of "Chelsea Girl," "I Travel," "Love Song," "Promised You a Miracle," and "Speed Your Love to Me" -- was unlike that of any of their peers. The assortment of material taken from the band's later albums is evenhanded, including "Alive and Kicking," "All the Things She Said," "Belfast Child," "Let There Be Love," and "She's a River," all of which reached the Top Ten in the U.K.
The lush, facile simplicity of Lloyd Cole's music is brimmed with cushioned harmonies and soft-spoken choruses, and more often than not deals with the complexity of love. Accompanied by the bright jangle of guitar that's hitched to palatable pop tempos, his work with backup band the Commotions produced a number of melody-ridden songs that are best accessed on 1984-1989, a collection of their finest material. Not unlike Orange Juice or the Blue Nile, Cole's music used polished instrumentation behind elements of subdued '80s Europop, best exemplified in songs like "Perfect Skin" and "You Will Never Be No Good." As an enduring and enjoyable compilation, 1984-1989 really does gather the cream of their music, and each song relinquishes a clean, robust sound. Some of the more beautiful tracks include the friendly candor of "Are You Ready to Be Heartbroken?" or the irregularity between the lines of "Jennifer She Said." "Brand New Friend" glimmers with Cole's vocal resilience, as does the pristine bounce of "Lost Weekend." All three of Lloyd Cole and the Commotions' albums contribute songs to this best-of, with the stronger pieces coming from 1984's Rattlesnakes. Cole's music strays from sounding contrived or overlapped and sports comparisons to the Beautiful South in that they share the same lyrical wit and appeal. Relatively unknown in North America, Lloyd Cole and the Commotions contributed to some of the finest music to ever hover with pop ease, and this compilation lines up his best work all in one place
The Bends was Radiohead's peak as an adventurous guitar band and their creativity wasn't limited to the album proper -- it spilled over to that album's B-sides, resulting in their most consistent string of singles, which, in turn, makes the double-disc reissue of The Bends the best of all the 2009 deluxe Radiohead reissues. This collects all the B-sides from the singles for "My Iron Long," "High & Dry"/"Planet Telex," "Fake Plastic Trees," and "Street Spirit (Fade Out)," adding four BBC sessions to comprise a bonus disc totalling 21 tracks. Compared to the Pablo Honey and OK Computer reissues, this doesn't rely heavily on live tracks or remixes, so there is a pretty hefty amount of valuable non-LP songs here, including "Talk Show Host," "Bishop's Robes," "Banana Co.," and "Molasses," which all point the way toward the vibrant twitchy progressive rock of OK Computer. Even with these tunes hinting toward the future, the 21 tracks on the bonus disc are connected strongly to the muscular, imaginative present of Radiohead in 1995, building and expanding upon the sound of The Bends and, when presented in conjunction with the album, enhancing it, illustrating that this was when the band found its voice.
Retreating from the collapse of the Teardrop Explodes to his hometown of Tamworth, Cope produced his first solo effort with help from producer Steve Lovell on guitar and fellow Teardrop Gary Dwyer on drums. The result is a surprisingly vibrant, rich album that shows Cope easily moving on from his group days while retaining his unique powerful and natural gifts for singing and songwriting. If there's something about the sound of World that suggests its early-'80s recording dates -- Dwyer's drums sound like Steve Lillywhite's been after them at points! -- Cope's own particular, heavily psych-into-pop-inspired goals aren't lost in it. Some of his songs are so inspired that one just has to wonder how in the world they didn't end up as hits somewhere. "An Elegant Chaos" is a great example, an at-once cryptic and fascinating lyric peppered with just enough knowing irony ("Here comes the part where I break down and cry") and a synth-string-touched crunch given a breezy pace. Top it off with Cope's singing and the result is simply genius. Two songs from the final Teardrops sessions, "Metranil Vavin," an homage to a Russian poet, and "Pussyface" get enthusiastic run-throughs here. "Metranil Vavin" in particular is a kick, shifting from garagey crunch and energy to a show tune chorus at the drop of a hat, while sitar from Lovell and concluding oboe from Kate St. John, who plays on many other cuts, add even more pastoral trippiness. Further strong cuts include "Kolly Kibber's Birthday," with a fast rhythm machine and keyboard drones leading the way; the quirky string/brass surge of "Sunshine Playroom"; and the upbeat "Greatness and Perfection." Throughout World, Cope demonstrates why he's one of the best, most unaffected singers in rock around, his vocals carrying sweep and passion without sounding like he's trying to impress himself or others.
Abandoning entirely the folk-pop sound of the Lilac Time's first two albums, & Love for All is a worthwhile stylistic detour that results in the first genuinely excellent album of Stephen Duffy's career, including his earlier solo incarnation as Tin Tin. Just over half the album (seven of 12 songs) was produced by XTC's Andy Partridge, with John Leckie covering the others, and the overall sound is akin to Partridge and Leckie's collaboration on the Dukes of Stratosphear records, minus the more obvious '60s pop rip-offs. (Well, discounting "All for Love and Love for All," which cops subtle riffs from the Magical Mystery Tour era and name checks the Quarrymen in the first verse.) Duffy has never before acknowledged much of an interest in either psychedelia or '60s pop, yet his songs fit Partridge and Leckie's atmospheric production touches nicely. Adding a greater reliance on electric guitars and keyboards (mostly piano played by Cara Tivey) to the Lilac Time's formerly acoustic sound, & Love for All manages not only to not overwhelm Duffy's thoughtful lyrics, graceful melodies, or thin but effective vocals, but to enhance them. [The 2006 edition includes four bonus tracks, as well as a four-song BBC session.]
Following a notorious flirtation with alternative rock, Moby returned to the electronic dance mainstream on the 1997 album I Like to Score. With 1999's Play, he made yet another leap back toward the electronica base that had passed him by during the mid-'90s. The first two tracks, "Honey" and "Find My Baby," weave short blues or gospel vocal samples around rather disinterested breakbeat techno. This version of blues-meets-electronica is undoubtedly intriguing to the all-important NPR crowd, but it is more than just a bit gimmicky to any techno fans who know their Carl Craig from Carl Cox. Fortunately, Moby redeems himself in a big way over the rest of the album with a spate of tracks that return him to the evocative, melancholy techno that's been a specialty since his early days. The tinkly piano line and warped string samples on "Porcelain" frame a meaningful, devastatingly understated vocal from the man himself, while "South Side" is just another pop song by someone who shouldn't be singing -- that is, until the transcendent chorus redeems everything. Surprisingly, many of Moby's vocal tracks are highlights; he has an unerring sense of how to frame his fragile vocals with sympathetic productions.
Many figured that the Red Hot Chili Peppers' days as undisputed alternative kings were numbered after their lackluster 1995 release One Hot Minute, but like the great phoenix rising from the ashes, this legendary and influential outfit returned back to greatness with 1999's Californication. An obvious reason for their rebirth is the reappearance of guitarist John Frusciante (replacing Dave Navarro), who left the Peppers in 1992 and disappeared into a haze of hard drugs before cleaning up and returning to the fold in 1998. Frusciante was a main reason for such past band classics as 1989's Mother's Milk and 1991's Blood Sugar Sex Magik, and proves once and for all to be the quintessential RHCP guitarist. Anthony Kiedis' vocals have improved dramatically as well, while the rhythm section of bassist Flea and drummer Chad Smith remains one of rock's best. The quartet's trademark punk-funk can be sampled on such tracks as "Around the World," "I Like Dirt," and "Parallel Universe," but the more pop-oriented material proves to be a pleasant surprise -- "Scar Tissue," "Otherside," "Easily," and "Purple Stain" all contain strong melodies and instantly memorable choruses. And like their 1992 introspective hit "Under the Bridge," there are even a few mellow moments -- "Porcelain," "Road Trippin'," and the title track. With the instrumentalists' interplay at an all-time telepathic high and Kiedis peaking as a vocalist, Californication is a bona fide Chili Peppers classic.
The Beat existed in its original form for less than five years in the late 1970s and early '80s, long enough to release three albums (I Just Can't Stop It, Wha'ppen?, and Special Beat Service) and some one-off singles. So, a two-hour, 37-track, two-CD set like the discount-priced U.K. retrospective You Just Can't Beat It: The Best of the Beat covers most of the group's recordings, with only a handful of tracks (not including remixes and live versions) left out. The most significant omission is the British single "Hit It," which only got to number 70 in the charts. The big hits are all here in a roughly chronological sequencing that gives the listener a sense of the band's development from its ska revival beginnings to more of a dub/reggae style and finally something like a mainstream soul/R&B approach including keyboards. Throughout, lead singer Dave Wakeling sings huskily over the infectiously danceable rhythms, complemented by the toasting of Ranking Roger. By the end, the group doesn't sound remotely spent, but further musical developments had to be handled by Wakeling and Ranking Roger in General Public on the one hand and guitarist Andy Cox and bassist Dave Steele with Fine Young Cannibals on the other. (In her enthusiastic if sketchy liner notes, Rhoda Dakar reveals that Wakeling leads a version of the English Beat in the U.S., while Ranking Roger has the New English Beat in the U.K.)
Released in the U.K. in 2008 but not appearing in the U.S. until 2014, the Best of the Specials is far and away the most generous Specials compilation ever assembled, weighing in at a hefty 20 tracks and, in its initial pressing at least, containing an accompanying 16-track DVD featuring music videos and live performance. The real meat of the collection is that CD of 20 hits and staples, the songs that made the Specials one of the most vital bands of the early '80s: all the early singles -- "Gangsters," "Ghost Town," "Message to You Rudy," "Nite Klub" -- but also "Rat Race," "Stereotypes," "What I Like Most About You Is Your Girlfriend," "Racist Friend," and "Nelson Mandela." All these and more are here on a compilation that encompasses the entirety of their dynamic, sometimes chaotic, career and while their debut remains peerless, this is a good way to get a sense of the whole story.
Preceding the elaborate 2005 reissues of Eurythmics' eight proper albums by a month, The Ultimate Collection narrowly trumps 1991's Greatest Hits since it features remastered sound and a more extensive track list. While it does not contain "Don't Ask Me Again," opting to instead select a couple merely decent highlights from 1999's Peace, two new (unplanned) recordings add value for any kind of fan. Bookending the disc, "I've Got a Life" is powerful disco-pop with Annie Lennox strongly present over a bursting multi-tiered arrangement, while the relatively low-key "Was It Just Another Affair" has more in common with late-period Everything But the Girl. Both songs pleasingly sound the way Eurythmics should sound in 2005. The rest of the disc leans toward the duo's peak of popularity, 1985's Be Yourself Tonight and the following year's Revenge, while the remainder of the albums -- with the exception of the unrepresented In the Garden, the debut -- chime in with two or three songs each. A truly ultimate collection would contain two discs and dig deeper into some of the best album cuts, rather than rely on charting singles, but this disc will sufficiently satisfy the casual fans who just want the songs they know and love.
