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.

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)