movin' on up

I don't think about albums in this way as much as I used to, but if I were to list my favorite albums Of All Time and compare that to what the list might've been a year or two ago, two albums would've moved up into the top tier: Nilsson's Schmilsson and Robert Wyatt's Rock Bottom.

Nilsson was someone I only discovered this year, but I've been listening to Wyatt / Soft Machine for over a decade. I'd be doing pretty well if each year I found one or two more top-tier albums.

Nilsson Sings Newman's 12 Songs

Getting into Harry Nilsson and Randy Newman have been two of the better things I've done this year. I knew Randy Newman was writing songs for others in the late sixties; he penned the intro to Van Dyke Park's Song Cycle, "Vine Street" as well as some songs for Harpers Bizzare and similar bands. And even though he had his first solo album in 1968, it wasn't until Nilsson came out with Sings Newman that Randy was introduced to a wide audience.



It seems hard to imagine why Nilsson would've done such a thing at that point in his career. He had some success with his first three albums and his big single that he didn't write, "Everybody's Talkin'" but Nilsson Schmilsson was still to come. So maybe he hadn't reached the peak of his success but he was definitely on the way up when he drops an album of songs written by some no-name guy, Randy Newman. Just the idea of doing that seems unheard of in today's world of constant self-promotion.



Listening to Randy Newman is strange. He has a unique style and relies on similar melodies in some songs, most of which (for me and others around my age, I expect) well-associated with the Toy Story movies. I know that may be unfair, but it's hard to listen to songs like "Yellow Man" or "My Old Kentucky Home" or whatever without thinking of Woody and Buzz Lightyear. Still, I've severely enjoyed his early albums, which can usually be found for under five bucks at vinyl stores.

Nilsson - Pandemonium Shadow Show and Aerial Ballet

So after having not enjoying Nilsson's Son of Schmilsson, I'm glad I went the other way in his discography, as his first two albums are pretty swell. These two were loved by the Beatles, and it's easy to see why, with all the Beatles-baiting here, especially on Pandemonium Shadow Show.

Apparently at the height of Nilsson-mania, or around the time of his Grammy for "Everybody's Talkin', " Nilsson re-worked material from these two albums, re-recording some parts and crafting new intros, and merged these two albums into one album, Aerial Pandemonium Ballet. I think I'll explore his other albums, like Harry and Nilsson Sings Newman before I get to that one, though. [For some reason I've also been on a bit of a Newman kick lately.]

I'm glad I came across Nilsson; his brand of ambitious, if sometimes indulgent brand of singer-songwriter, pop/rock style places him a similar league to one of my faves, Todd Rundgren. But Todd never had a lullaby like this:

Emitt Rhodes - Emitt Rhodes

I came across this one in a search for other classics of baroque pop and sunshine pop. No doubt this is among the best in the genre, but I don't think it's one I'll be returning to much. His sound borrows heavily from Paul-penned Beatles songs. I imagine for those lamenting the left-turn the Beatles made in the late-60s, this 1970 debut album was a welcome return to the familiar.

So what was the turn-off here? The music is straightforward and takes no risks, so there's that--perfect for Wes Anderson. And the lyrics are even more bland. You must live 'till you die? Huh, cool. (And if "Fresh as a Daisy" hasn't been used in a feminine product commercial, that's a missed opportunity.)

Still, there are a few nice songs on here, and I always have respect for multi-instrumentalists who record their own stuff. Ultimately, I hope this guy paid McCartney royalties, even as Sir Paul was making his own sub-par one-man-band albums along the same time.

David Axelrod - Earth Rot

No, not that David Axelrod. The one who produced and composed some pretty fantastic music in the '60s and '70s, working with Lou Rawls, Cannonball Adderley, the Electric Prunes, and many more. His first two solo albums, Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience, still sound fresh. The break-beat rhythm style he favored became staples for crate-diggers like DJ Shadow; listen to "Holy Thursday" and you'll hear the foundation of the future of hip-hop.

So his third album, Earth Rot, is a bit of a weird turn. Labeled as "a musical statement on the state of the environment," it's basically an album about environmental destruction--the first side is about warnings, the second about the signs themselves. The music here is amazing. It's jazzy, it's funky, the arrangements are amazing, it's all very fluid; parts of it I like even better than his first two albums.

But there's a catch, and that happens to be a choir that delivers the vocals. Lordy, they are annoying. Just when you start to enjoy the music, the choir comes in, singing about the decaying environment: "There! Is! A! Grow! Ing! Rahhh! Tennnnn! Nesssssss!"

I so wish there was an instrumental version of this album; it would be really phenomenal. As it is, the vocals are just too distracting and I can't get past them.



Allmusic characterizes this as 'obscuro'--a label they also applied to Bill Holt's Dreamies. I imagine I'll be checking out a few more obscuro albums in the near future.

The Association - ...And Then, Along Comes the Association

The group's debut album may be better listening today than it was in 1966, because it can be appreciated more -- and it definitely deserves a better reputation than it has among folk-rock, psychedelic pop, and pop/rock enthusiasts. The album is usually neglected because of the Association's reputation as a soft rock outfit and the prominence of the hits "Cherish" and "Along Comes Mary," both of which are too poppy for most serious '60s archeologists. The original LP was one or two songs short of uniformly high-quality material, but that defect was compensated for by the better numbers and the production of the late Curt Boettcher. Admittedly one of Boettcher's softer creations, And Then...Along Comes the Association displayed the same creative use of stereo sound separation -- the interlocking instrumental and vocal parts divided in discreet two-channel sound -- that was to characterize his work with groups like the Millennium and Sagittarius a little later in the decade. Indeed, And Then...Along Comes the Association was among the earliest American rock albums to make full creative use of stereo sound and to exploit it on behalf of a group. In those days, the stereo mix on a rock album was usually little more than an afterthought by the producer and engineer (most of whom hated rock & roll), but Boettcher appreciated just what he had here, with the six singers and instrumentalists in this band, and he spread their work out in front of the listener in vivid detail, giving each "voice" (human and instrumental) a close airing, yet meshing them together as well.

(The Association - ...And Then, Along Comes the Association)

Harpers Bizarre - Feelin' Groovy

One of the bands that came to Warner Bros. in their buyout of Autumn Records were the Tikis. They had only recorded a handful of singles, and in terms of musical direction and group identity, they definitely had potential. Enter producer Lenny Waronker and session musician/arranger/songwriter/general musical architect Van Dyke Parks. The two of them brought then-drummer Ted Templeman up to the front as co-lead vocalist, along with Dick Scoppettone, and created a soft-rock identity for the group, renaming them Harpers Bizarre. Their first single was perhaps their greatest shot: a cover of the then-brand new Paul Simon song, "Feelin' Groovy." Buttressed by an amazing Leon Russell arrangement and some great performances from the A-list of L.A. session cats, the song quickly went into the Top Ten. The resulting album is almost as great as the single, with songs by Van Dyke Parks ("Come to the Sunshine"), Randy Newman ("Debutante's Ball"), and others. An excellent and definitive slice of California soft pop. The 2001 CD reissue on Sundazed adds two bonus tracks, both taken from the 1966 "Bye, Bye, Bye"/"Lost My Love Today" single by the Tikis, the San Francisco group that evolved into Harper's Bizarre."

(Harpers Bizarre - Feelin' Groovy)

The Zombies - Odessey and Oracle

Odessey and Oracle was one of the flukiest (and best) albums of the 1960s, and one of the most enduring long-players to come out of the entire British psychedelic boom, mixing trippy melodies, ornate choruses, and lush Mellotron sounds with a solid hard rock base. But it was overlooked completely in England and barely got out in America (with a big push by Al Kooper, who was then a Columbia Records producer); and it was neglected in the U.S. until the single "Time of the Season," culled from the album, topped the charts nearly two years after it was recorded, by which time the group was long disbanded. Ironically, at the time of its recording in the summer of 1967, permanency was not much on the minds of the bandmembers. Odessey and Oracle was intended as a final statement, a bold last hurrah, having worked hard for three years only to see the quality of their gigs decline as the hits stopped coming. The results are consistently pleasing, surprising, and challenging: "Hung Up on a Dream" and "Changes" are some of the most powerful psychedelic pop/rock ever heard out of England, with a solid rhythm section, a hot Mellotron sound, and chiming, hard guitar, as well as highly melodic piano. "Changes" also benefits from radiant singing. "This Will Be Our Year" makes use of trumpets (one of the very few instances of real overdubbing) in a manner reminiscent of "Penny Lane"; and then there's "Time of the Season," the most well-known song in their output and a white soul classic. Not all of the album is that inspired, but it's all consistently interesting and very good listening, and superior to most other psychedelic albums this side of the Beatles' best and Pink Floyd's early work. Indeed, the only complaint one might have about the original LP is its relatively short running time, barely over 30 minutes, but even that's refreshing in an era where most musicians took their time making their point, and most of the CD reissues have bonus tracks to fill out the space available.

(The Zombies - Odessey and Oracle)

Van Dyke Parks - Discover America

Van Dyke Parks is one of a handful of artists possessing a purity of vision that graces every project he is involved with. Very few could pull off an album titled Discover America -- with all the themes and motifs befitting such a moniker -- done entirely in the style of the Caribbean, most specifically Trinidad circa the 1940s. The songs weave together in a sonic tapestry that connects the untiring Yankee spirit of ingenuity with the opulence and romanticism of the islands. While tomes could easily be devoted to dissecting the album's multiple layers of meaning, to call it an eclectic masterpiece of multicultural Americana might be a start. While the contents of the album as a whole are tropical in flavor, there are numerous examples of Parks' trademark swaddling arrangements and unique perspectives -- such as odes to his favorite vocalists ("Bing Crosby" and the marvelous "The Four Mills Brothers"). Just as he had done with the "Bicycle Rider" suite on Brian Wilson's Smile, Parks has the uncanny ability to incorporate various active musical story lines at once. "John Jones," for example, is the saga of a pioneer-era gunslinger set to a laid-back reggae beat. This brilliant technique is likewise incorporated into "FDR in Trinidad" -- featuring the distinct instrumental backing of Little Feat replete with electric guitar punctuations from fret master Lowell George. The band is flawless in their interpretation of Parks' quirky and addictively potent chord changes. The sheer breadth of musical approaches on Discover America may take the uninitiated a few listens to truly absorb. These idiosyncrasies range from the artificially added vinyl surface noise heard during the diminutive opening track "Jack Palance" -- which mentions the actor's name in referring to a woman who shares the same facial features (yikes!) -- to the irony and humor-laden saga of the crime-fighting "G-Man Hoover." Another track worth mentioning is the spoken-word "Introduction," in which presumably Parks portrays a bus tour-guide. The heavy and purposeful tape editing is highly reminiscent of Captain Beefheart's "The Dust Blows Forward ..." or the introduction to "Pena" from his epic Trout Mask Replica. Discover America is a pop music history lesson that is without question one of the lost classics of the early '70s. Likewise, it may as easily have been several decades ahead of its time.

(Van Dyke Parks - Discover America)