Billy Joe Aemstrong needs no introduction. He’s also no stranger to a great cover tune.
His newest recording ‘Black Haired Girl’ takes an old Jesse Malin track and gives it a kick via a very recognisable vocal. With a top notch production bringing out the track’s solid bass groove and Armstrong’s trademark style lending more of a power pop slant, it actually improves upon the original cut where Malin’s own huge drawling tones drove the number with a little more of a retro rock feel.
From the label that brought you 50th Anniversary tribute albums covering Alice Cooper’s classic ‘Killer’, Bowie’s absolutely legendary ‘Ziggy Stardust’, and Budgie’s oft-overlooked ‘Never Turn Your Back On A Friend’, comes something way more…outlandish. Bringing together various acts from the rock and metal underground, ‘Kimono My House: 50 Years Later’ re-imagines the 1974 Sparks album. As you might expect, the results are mixed. As you’ve probably already guessed, very few of the bands have been brave (or should that be foolhardy?) enough to imitate Russ Mael’s legendary falsetto. It remains unclear whether any of the musicians have taken the method route and grown toothbrush moustaches to enhance their involvement. What we have here – somewhat against the odds – is a very interesting record.
Unless you happen to be Robert Pollard/Guided By Voices or Buckethead and have a blatant disregard for quality control, recording and releasing eight studio albums over a five year period is probably really difficult, if not impossible. Creedence Clearwater Revival not only managed that task between 1968-1972, but in ‘Green River’, ‘Willy & The Poorboys’, and ‘Cosmo’s Factory’, they managed to deliver a trio of cast iron classics. The latter is an album still beloved by millions; a soundtrack to a generation.
Pink Floyd’s sixth album, ‘Meddle’, is regarded as a prog rock masterpiece. The band had released enjoyable works prior to its release in 1971, but ‘Meddle’ is arguably the first album where all of the “classic Floyd” ingredients came together to create something coherent. David Gilmour has referred to it as the first album since his appointment as guitarist that really made sense, and – as enjoyable as bits of its predecessors are in their own weird and wonderful ways – it’s hard not to argue with that logic. The thunderous bass groove driving ‘One of These Days’ very much looks forward to parts of ‘Animals’; in Gilmour’s ‘Fearless’, there’s a melodic prog songcraft that he would take forward and make the heart of ‘Dark Side of The Moon’ and even the post-Roger Waters ‘Division Bell’, and via the mighty ‘Echoes’ – a side long epic – bits of the Floyd’s soundtrack recording past collide with huge solos, and there’s even a melodic phrase that would be reworked a few years later to become one of ‘Dark Side’s timeless musical touchstones. Unfortunately, there’s the lazy blues of ‘Seamus’, too – something that undoubtedly grew from their Pompeii animal cruelty jam ‘Madamoiselle Nobs’ – but very few albums are perfect.
In the minds of a lot of people, Michael Bolton is a man charged with filling his career with easy listening pop, or crooning standards. He achieved massive success in the late 80s with his sixth album, ‘Soul Provider’, a record that showcased a man with a strong voice, but beyond the Desmond Child penned ‘How Can We Be Lovers’ had very little substance.
That track was actually a welcome throwback of sorts to Bolton’s musical past. Before he became chief executive of making a generation of housewives over excited, old Mickey Two-Haircuts had already had a full career by most people’s standards. His first two albums mixed west coast pop with AM radio friendly rock tunes and material that occasionally hinted at his future success as a best-selling crooner, but a run of work released between 1979-85 cast Michael in the role of a full blooded rocker. With his band Blackjack (featuring future Kiss axeman Bruce Kulick) and as a solo performer, ‘Blackjack’ (1979), ‘Worlds Apart’ (1980), ‘Michael Bolton’ (1983) and ‘Everybody’s Crazy’ (1985) captured a run of work that could easily stand up with the best of Foreigner, Survivor and their ilk. Given the ubiquitous presence of Michael’s later, softer works, these brilliant records have all but been forgotten – or more likely ignored – by the more casual record buyer.