Yes, Close to the Edge

Some of the best prog nonsense from any band. The lyrics are gobbledygook ("total mass retain"?) and the jams go all over the place, but it's all so earnest and played so straight that it feels like it really means something, and the beauty of art rock is that it can mean anything you like. The strongest is the long-play title track, which showcases an early riff I'd swear I've heard Phish rip off plus an astonishing array of instruments and production effects, including a haunting bridge with water drips and echo as if they were playing a subterranean stage hundreds of miles beneath the surface. It builds incredibly well, too, up to a tremendous finish, something that the other two tracks, as accomplished as they are, do not manage nearly as effectively. That isn't to say they aren't good, though "Siberian Khatru" is a little too noodly and "And You And I" is a little too spare, but their chief sin is only being lesser. The 2003 reissue includes a castrated A-side cover of Simon and Garfunkel's "America" which includes their odd vocal take and excludes the more interesting jam that follows, along with the typical tedious studio outtakes, though the distilled-down single version of "Close to the Edge" as "Total Mass Retain" is a good starter track for the casual interest. This is probably the version to look for because the so-called 2013 definitive edition is absolutely excessive in what it includes and would intimidate even the most ardent Yes-head. The audiophiles will geek out on the surround mix, though. (Content: no concerns.)

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Frank Zappa, Hot Rats

Zappa's first after jettisoning the Mothers of Invention, this brash and breathtaking landmark of acid fusion seamlessly blurs the lines between prog and jazz in over forty minutes of wild-eyed bliss. (Also wild-eyed: the GTOs' Miss Christine on the cover emerging hot, pink and bothered from a concrete crypt.) All six tracks are stellar but "Peaches en Regalia" is the undisputed jewel from its infectious hooks, fascinating multi-instrument harmonies and startling production effects like buzzy reeds yipping away at double speed like kazoos; its little brother "Son of Mr. Green Genes" is nearly as good for nearly the same reasons, and Zappa even got something consistent out of Captain Beefheart for a change as the sole vocalist on "Willie The Pimp." Loses its fifth star solely for its more meandering moments not being everyone's cup of tea, and that's truly the only reason, because instrumentally and technically the album is near peerless. Hardcore Zappatistas will menacingly scrap over the relative virtues of the original LP mix (resurrected on current CD pressings) versus the 1987 Rykodisc CD, the latter largely reflected in a substantially expanded "The Gumbo Variations," but I'm not that rabid and "frankly" either is excellent. It should also be noted that Zappa himself did the 1987 remaster, so there's no use appealing to authority. (Content: mild adult themes on "Willie The Pimp.")

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Bob James, 12

Another smooth, sinuous and unspectacular outing from the king of unchallenging jazz, though I'm not actually dissing him here, because too many in this genre fail to accomplish even that. Tracks like "Midnight" and "No Pay, No Play" run a little long but hold your attention well enough, as does "Legacy" with its gentle if lengthy guitar, while "Ruby, Ruby, Ruby" and its lead sax roll along superbly like tires on the freshest road. There's no unique verve (compare with "Angela" from Taxi) and no gripping central style, yet it's all so sufficiently consistent you won't much care. The '80s synths and beats (especially in "Moonbop" and "I Need More of You") do sometimes wear a bit dated to modern ears, though the album's ironically at its best when it indulges in it; indeed "Courtship," the ripely rambunctious second track, is undeniably its strongest (and shortest) piece with complex arrangements and a delightfully shifty rhythm. This unambitious outing won't blow your mind or your speakers, but you'll probably find yourself grooving along to it anyway. (Content: pure instrumental.)

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Patrick & Eugene, Postcard from Summerisle

It's got a big helping of British whimsy but that gimmick dies quick. Lead-in "The Birds and the Bees" is a genuinely zippy earworm that deserves all the airplay and ad spots it's wound up in (like the one with VWs multiplying like, er, Rabbits), and "A Dog's Tale" is a cute little number from the view of man's best friend — even if it rips off the same basic hook. On the other hand, most of the rest of the album is afflicted by overwrought style pastiches that are skillful but don't really gel ("Circus Train" and "Tribal" in particular but also the ponderous Flanders-and-Swann wannabe "Old Times"), and they have rather suspect choices in covers: the retread of Kylie Minogue (!)'s "Can't Get You Out of My Head" bops along credibly enough but their version of the "59th Street Bridge Song" is pedestrian and their Beyoncé (!!) cover of "Crazy in Love" is obnoxious. Despite the obvious instrumental and engineering talent here it didn't really seem to translate into anything very engaging. CD issues include a single "pop mix" of "The Birds and the Bees" plus another interminable instrumental "Garden of Love," though there are a few impressively atmospheric moments of note. (Content: mild adult themes in "Crazy in Love.")

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Chumbawamba, Tubthumper

And they say socialists can't dance. Not nearly as tart nor as astringent as their prior post-punk incarnation, they're still topical and they're still barbed, but this time they've got a beat. The rollicky "Tubthumping" got into a lot of people's heads who'd never heard of the term, and the album shoots its wad a little quick by front-loading it with that and their other strong singles "Amnesia" and "Drip, Drip, Drip," but there's still a lot to be said for the zippy remainder. The audio clips between tracks are a little distracting (though I did enjoy the, er, thematic meditation from Rising Damp), but they're all in good fun, and the vox populi extracts really cut to the heart. Still, people dared call them sellouts? Put the pop shift aside for a moment and consider this album brought anarcho-syndicalism to a generation that couldn't even spell it. How about their comparison of a faithless union leader to Pontius Pilate in "One by One" (complete with hymn backing)? How about their sharp-as-knives criticism of lifestyle-oriented lifestyles in "The Good Ship Lifestyle," or the seductive ease of the blame game in "Scapegoat" (with a instrumental callback)? "Outsider" and "Smalltown" may not be as lyrically adept, but they're still standing up for the non-conformist. Heck, even Alice Nutter was saying people could just go nick the album off the shelves if they wanted to. Now, that's commitment to putting the products of production in the proletariat's hands. I wonder if I still have the receipt. (Content: mild expletives with more severe ones bleeped, gleeful Marxism.)

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Run-DMC, Raising Hell

Hip-hop wasn't big until this album, really. But this album made it really big and did so almost effortlessly. Dig the variety: silly stuff like "My Adidas" and "You Be Illin'" (setting the mold for later acts like DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince), beatboxing in "Hit It Run," hard beats in "Peter Piper" and "It's Tricky" and phat rock and bass in "Raising Hell," probably the most technically well-constructed track on the disc. "Dumb Girl" might hit a little too close to home for some and "Son Of Byford" is a dopey throwaway, but "Proud To Be Black" is a literate, aggressive and proud history lesson any listener of any colour can learn from. And let's not forget their new advance in sampling, where instead of just DJing the song Aerosmith came back to actually perform on their cover of "Walk This Way" and rebooted themselves in the process. That's big. The 2005 remaster includes an "acapella" version of "My Adidas" which isn't all that special and the two radio spots (one complete with outtakes and producer) are absolutely brainless, but "Lord Of Lyrics" has a solid rock backing strong enough to make the main album and the rough cuts and glitches of the "Walk This Way" demo have a strangely affable feel that puts you right in the studio. (Content: mild expletives; S- and F-bombs in the "Live At The Apollo" spot.)

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Simon & Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water

This was the first album I ever owned, part of a four-pack of Simon and Garfunkel cassettes my parents got me in junior high, and even to this day this one is still the standout. It was more than just the folk music of their early days and even transcended the eclectic wider-world feel of Bookends, yet remained grounded in the human stories and the murmuring vocals they started with. It didn't hurt that there was much more of it, too; there are many strong tracks here, not least the opening title track with Spectoresque reverb and shimmery stings of percussion like seawater splashing on rock, plus the tortuous memories of "The Boxer" past his prime and the meditative airy B-side "The Only Living Boy in New York," though as a kid I gravitated towards the peppier ones such as the slightly salacious "Cecilia" and "Baby Driver." Indeed, the song I'm personally most fond of, even though it is by no means their best work, is the unreliable narration of "Keep The Customer Satisfied" who winds his suspect tale of persecution with a rockabilly feel and a full set of brass that is in fact just as satisfying as advertised. The live "Bye Bye Love" seems tossed in at the last moment, and "Song For The Asking" yields a wantingly wan goodbye for their last and greatest work, but precious few of their albums together or solo have ever approached its excellence and its appeal is practically universal. The 2001 remaster adds two demos, the Haitian folk song "Feuilles-O" which is engaging but far too short and too much of a throwback, and a disappointingly flat-sounding earlier take of the title track; neither are at all as compelling as the main work. (Content: mild adult themes in "Cecilia" and "Baby Driver.")

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Queensrÿche, Empire

It's a rare band that puts the progressive in progressive metal, though politically that wouldn't be the title track where Geoff Tate's officious voice-over bemoans the relative dearth of local law enforcement funding. Still, tracks like "Best I Can" and "Resistance" hit hard in all the right ways, and even if this album does sit right on the transition from hair metal to grunge (hear those synth hits in "The Thin Line") "Jet City Woman" and "Another Rainy Night (Without You)" mostly avoid sounding too dated. But the slower, meatier and more deliberate pieces ("Della Brown", "Hand on Heart," "One and Only") have real art and a rich sound fostered by the environmental effects throughout the album and even a cameo from an answering machine; oddly, the otherwise beguiling "Silent Lucidity" may have the most ornate prog trappings but wears the least well in authenticity, almost a cynically deliberate attempt at a metaphysical "Comfortably Numb" (Michael Kamen's presence wouldn't be a coincidence, either). Nevertheless, you could do a lot worse for hard rock, and much of the pretense of lesser art metal bands is refreshingly absent. The 2003 reissue added three ill-advised B-sides, including a disastrous cover of "Scarborough Fair," and the 20th anniversary second disc is another lazy pack-in all-live recording not sufficiently interesting to seek out on its own. Just buy the original; you can probably find it cheaper too. (Content: adult themes in "The Thin Line.")

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U2, No Line on the Horizon

I know Bono was shooting for "future hymns" but this album sounds an awful lot like previous ones, with some interpolated actual hymns ("White As Snow") thrown in for good measure. There isn't the wildness of Achtung Baby, the experiments of Pop and Zooropa or the punch of How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb; what persists is a throwback feel with that same level of lyrical complexity but a hollower style that varies widely from refreshingly ethereal to vaguely claustrophobic. I like the more contemplative pieces ("Moment of Surrender" and "FEZ-Being Born") but some are just hackneyed ("Unknown Caller" with out-of-place references to passwords and the Macintosh Finder), and "I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight" has their classic verve but still sounds more like a soundcheck than a studio. (Strangely, it's those Steve Lillywhite-produced tracks that are the weakest artistically; you can really tell who had the reins when.) Fortunately they can intermittently find their edge with solid, harder-hitting tracks like the title and the off-kilter Middle Eastern shifts of "Get On Your Boots," and in the end it's still a good album, but it nevertheless comes off as slightly beneath their talent. The iTunes bonus tracks aren't anything to write home about either; the Crookers remix of "Get On Your Boots" in particular merely makes a pleasingly daffy track daft. (Content: S-bomb on "Cedars of Lebanon.")

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Sparks, Halfnelson

They later billed themselves as Englishmen; they were not. They billed themselves as Halfnelson; that didn't stick (in fairness Albert Grossman was largely to blame). They billed themselves as good; their début wasn't. All the pieces were there: Russ Mael sang like a 12-year-old with tight pants, Ron Mael had his stache, the lyrics were wacky and the wit was undeveloped but present. Unfortunately, the melody lines are all over the place, self-savaging otherwise better tracks ("Wonder Girl," "Simple Ballet") and dooming others ("Biology 2"), and producer Todd Rundgren left too much to the band who resorted to stripped-down mixes and studio jams because of their inexperience. The rock sort of works ("High C," "(No More) Mr Nice Guys") but doesn't really play to their strengths, and the more competent slow jams like "Fletcher Honorama" are listenable but hardly stand out. But glimpses of the future show up now and then: "Saccharin and the War's" war sacrifice motif for weight loss is only let down by the flat recording and "Slowboat" might have fallen off a better album yet to come. That album wasn't the next one A Woofer in Tweeter's Clothing, either, which reissuer Edsel put together in a two disc set. The production under Thaddeus Lowe is richer, but the same problems persist, and it wasn't until they jettisoned the Mankeys and went to Island Records that they really took off. The most curious inclusion is a earlier mix of "I Like Girls," practically a demo tape, and nowhere near as fun as the fully realised version from Big Beat. About the best I can say is they got better. (Content: mild adult themes.)

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Al Stewart, Modern Times

For my money this remains his finest work: Alan Parsons' production is tight in the right places and sumptuous when it matters, and Stewart didn't lay it on too thick with the lyrics or his usual obscure historical fetishes. (They're still obscure, mind you, but this time around at least he doesn't wallow in it.) While "Next Time" is a bit wan and is easily the album's one weak track, "Not The One" is a moving story of relationships with a strangely satisfying twist, "Apple Cider Re-Constitution" has a peppy beat against a benignly apocalyptic setting and the title track is a deft, musically complex comparison of nostalgia's simultaneous pleasure and pain. There's also the character study "Carol" with useful neologisms such as "a cocaine holiday," and besides being great to sing along with "Sirens of Titan" rewards you with just enough literary indulgence to feel sophisticated without feeling stuck-up, which is always a solid balance to strike. The 2000 and 2007 reissues add various B-sides and retreads; they're neither as compelling or memorable as the main album, though the pleasant Beatle-esque charm of "Elvaston Place" does stand out. (Content: mild adult themes in "Carol" and "Modern Times.")

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Rick James, Come Get It!

Not nearly as nuts as the later Street Songs and its (in)famous standout single "Super Freak," his first solo album and the only one with his Stone City Band is better grounded, more funky and less ridiculous. It's still sassy and it's still got that trademark leering vibe, but the disco elements don't suck (especially "You And I," its best track, and "Be My Lady"), the bass struts right along even if tracks like "Sexy Lady" seem to lose their step a little, and he can deliver a surprisingly authentic level of emotion when he wants to ("Hollywood"). Of course, it wouldn't be a Rick James album without drugs (the eye-rollingly transparent "Mary Jane") and smarmy sex (the tiresome intro of "Dream Maker," though the R&B that follows isn't too bad), but unlike what followed there's more here than just startling the blue hair brigade. The 2014 reissues add longer versions of "You And I" which don't add much musically but they're still more of a good thing. (Content: adult themes, drug references.)

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