McCoy Tyner's first album as a leader, Inception (1962), hasn't lost any of its freshness in its almost fifty years of existence. It displays all of the qualities that he has become famous for: the astonishing range of his touch (from a snowflake landing to thunder), his unique harmonic approach (based on the sound of fourths, which has since become an integral part of modern jazz), and his brilliant compositional skills (the album features four wonderful originals, each thoughtfully arranged). The two standards, "There Is No Greater Love" and "Speak Low", are among the most frequently covered in jazz, but for me, the versions here are definitive. The rhythm section of Art Davis on bass and Elvin Jones on drums is as good as they come. In fact, to fully appreciate the group, I would recommend listening to this track ("Effendi": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLulnx8QT24) three times - with the attention on each musician once. Players like these deserve it.

McCoy Tyner was twenty-one when he joined John Coltrane's quartet in 1960. He was to become the perfect pianist for the group, and one of the most influential and distinctive in jazz history. His iconic contribution to Coltrane and to jazz, although not his only one, was the concept of organizing chord voicings in fourths, as opposed to thirds which had been the norm before him. This gave his sound a modern, muscular and brash quality that supported both Coltrane's playing, which was primarily based on elaborate chord substitutions, and Elvin Jones' poly-rhythmic drumming. Like other musical pioneers, his ideas have been emulated by so many musicians that appreciating their importance by listening to the original recordings takes some effort. The best way to do this is to listen to other records in the same genre and from the same time before listening to the pioneering one. To compare a recording from 1960 to one made in 2010 is not going to work in this regard, in other words, because the later one has the advantage of being able to use everything that came before it, including perhaps even the one in question.

One of the albums that best captures Tyner's importance to the Classic Quartet is 1961's My Favorite Things. Here are the links (parts one and two) for the title track: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQsvMf8X0FY&feature=related / http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qt9iLDmaQwk&feature=related . You can either check out other small group jazz recordings from approximately the same era, or you can trust me: There aren't any that sound like this one. (Tomorrow, one of Tyner's recordings as a leader.)

I think I'll continue on the topic of great jazz albums for a couple of days, and today, I'll write about the only recording that the incomparable John Coltrane, as a leader, did with a singer: John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman (1963). Knowing what we do about Coltrane - that he was constantly searching for the essence of music - it's interesting to listen to him in this context, as well as to try to figure out what led him to the experience and what he took from it. His quartet at the time, which included McCoy Tyner on piano, Elvin Jones on drums, and Jimmy Garrison on bass is often considered the greatest small group in jazz history. Their adventurousness and skill is at such a level that listeners can occasionally be overwhelmed with the music's intensity. I haven't met many people that saw the group live (they were around from 1962 to 1965), but one memorable description of the experience stayed with me: Seeing the group at close quarters in a small Montreal club, said a musician acquaintance, was like "standing up in a roller coaster". I didn't doubt it a bit: I've listened to a lot of their music and it's on its own in terms of intensity. (Here's a link to a live version of "My Favorite Things", for a sample: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PpuR98N40I .)

But today's topic, the album mentioned above, shows a very different side to their playing, as they support Hartman's inspired singing and extrapolate from the melodies. And what melodies they are: "They Say It's Wonderful", "Autumn Serenade", "Dedicated to You", "My One and Only Love", and the byzantine Billy Strayhorn masterpiece, "Lush Life", all songs of extraordinary beauty, were recorded on the first take (!). Only Rodgers and Hart's "You Are Too Beautiful" needed a second. I've always considered it a shame that it was their only recording together, but it could be looked at another way: It couldn't have been topped. And it still hasn't. Here's "Lush Life": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7d6_LUDa_Zw .

Herbie Hancock's Maiden Voyage (1965) is often considered among the very best recordings in jazz history, and you'd get no argument from me. On every level, the album is wonderful. Its central concept, the relationship between the forces that govern the seas and those that govern music, seems to have inspired everyone involved. The album's five pieces, all written by Hancock, have become jazz standards, covered by musicians everywhere, each one unique and timeless. The quintet was composed of the some of the greatest musicians in jazz (then and now): Hancock on piano, George Coleman on saxophone, Tony Williams on drums, Ron Carter on bass, Freddie Hubbard on trumpet. The recording engineer, Rudy Van Gelder, found the essence of their sounds both individually and collectively. Here's a link to the title track, with its lurching rhythm taking us into the waves: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwmRQ0PBtXU

In mentioning Bill Evans in yesterday's post, I didn't give the names of the other musicians in his longest-lasting trio. Eddie Gomez, on bass, was with Evans from 1966 to 1978, and Marty Morell was his drummer from 1968 to 1975. In looking for a recording to link, I came across one I hadn't heard for a long time: a version of the Evans original entitled "Very Early" from the album, Montreux II (1970). It's in 3/4 time (also known as waltz time) and it features a very adventurous solo from Gomez, as well as the usual glistening brilliance of Evans. Also of note are Morell's numerous ideas in support. It's a great example of three musicians who can process internal and external information at high speeds in the moment: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnZWcc5CUik

And here is the opening cut from the first album recorded in Switzerland, Bill Evans at the Montreux Jazz Festival from 1968. "One for Helen" was written for Evans' manager, Helen Keane, who was both a pioneer in her field and a loyal friend to Evans in his difficult final years. The drummer on this album was the great Jack DeJohnette; it was, unfortunately, the only Evans recording on which he appeared - he wasn't in the trio for long, but you'd never know it from this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LNUQXE3SlA

Yesterday, I mentioned that serious jazz musicians rehearse very little, which is true. But I want to be clear what I mean by that. By "rehearse", I mean playing with other musicians, which is not the same thing as "practice", which is done individually. Jazz musicians practice constantly. (The term they use for it is "woodshedding", as in, "I'm going back to the shed". It comes from the structure in Charlie Parker's Kansas City backyard that became legendary for the heavy practice hours that it hosted.) But everything that is practiced, from ear training to memorizing vocabulary to the detailed study of the history of both style and instrument - is done so that they don't have to rehearse. Bill Evans, the piano giant and one of the hardest-working musicians ever, once said that in the ten or so years that he played with one of his trios, they'd had about four rehearsals. But when the gig started, they "got it together very quickly on the bandstand". For evidence of the results, listen to any of his records.

One of the more challenging aspects of learning how to play jazz is that it requires someone to build a repertoire of techniques and vocabulary, but at the same time to learn how to interact with other musicians, and their conceptual ideas regarding harmony and rhythm, etc. It's a journey both inward and outward, in other words. One way that jazz musicians practice on their own (which is how nearly all their work is done - most serious jazz musicians rehearse very little) is with the use of play-along CDs. These are recordings of rhythm sections (bass and drums, with piano or guitar) playing the backing tracks for songs, but which leave room for the user to play the melody and to improvise through many repetitions (or choruses, as they're known) of the piece. These help to bridge the gap between the personal, introspective aspects of jazz with the collective ones which require paying close attention to outside information. (The best-known provider of these recordings is Jamey Aebersold. Here's a link to his Wikipedia page, if you want to know more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jamey_Aebersold.)

The reason that I'm bringing this up is a very interesting project that has been put together by the great guitarist, Pat Metheny, which was certainly inspired by devices such as the player-piano, but which may also have a debt to play-along recordings. It is known as the Orchestrion project, and you can read and view about its nature, much better than I could explain it, here: http://www.patmetheny.com/orchestrioninfo/ . It strikes me as a very interesting development in the combination of human and technological elements in music, because it permits the musician to improvise, and to create the setting for it, simultaneously. As a concept, its potential is limitless; check it out.

With retrospect, it's clear that George Harrison's Concert for Bangladesh is one of the pivotal moments in rock history. It's not only because this was the first benefit concert of such a size, with such a cast of musicians, but that it provided another way forward for rock and roll: altruism. And with each passing year, it's become not only common for rockers to be involved in causes - it's almost expected.

Anyone who hasn't seen the film of the concert has something great to look forward to. From Harrison's down-to-earth explanation of the reasons for his involvement to the backstage shots of the legendary musicians preparing to go on - from Ravi Shankar's fascinating performance of "Bangla Dhun" (with Harrison kindly asking the crowd to recognize the seriousness of the performers) to the mighty rock and roll show to follow: it's a delight not to be missed. It's hard to believe that Harrison has been gone for almost nine years, and watching him in this footage as he fills the spotlight as a performer, musician and great man is an emotional experience. We were lucky to have him, and his legacy is gigantic. Thanks. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqogkD7nCQc&feature=related)

Eddie Cochran's "Something Else" is one of the all-time great story-songs. It features a narrator who is deeply impressed with two things: a girl and a car. In the end, we find that he has compromised on one (the latter), but not the other. Without hitting us over the head, the song asks the listener to consider the nature of compromise - where it matters and where it doesn't. Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aW34W67ZYG0, and lyrics:

A look a-there, here she comes

There comes that girl again

Wanted to date her since I don't know when

But she don't notice me when I pass

She goes with all the guys from outta my class

But that can't stop me from a-thinkin' to myself

She's sure fine lookin' man, she's something else

Hey, look a-there, across the street

There's a car made just for me

To own that car would be a luxury

But my dollar can't afford the gas

A brand new convertible is outa my class

But that can't stop me from a—thinkin' to myself

That car's fine lookin' man, it's something else

Hey, look a—here, just wait and see

Worked hard and saved my dough

I'll buy that car that I been wanting so

Get me that girl and we'll go ridin' around

We'll look real sharp with the flight top down

I keep right on a-dreamin' and a-thinkin' to myself

When it all comes true man, wow, that's something else

Look a-there, what's all this

Never thought I'd do this before

But here I am a-knockin' on her door

My car's out front and it's all mine

Just a forty-one Ford, not a fifty-nine

I got that girl an' I'm a-thinkin' to myself

She's sure fine lookin' man, wow, she's something else

I mentioned yesterday that I feel that McCartney is primarily a narrative-driven songwriter, influenced by Chuck Berry and Cochran, and that Lennon was more concerned with the emotional content (from humour to despair) found in the work of Presley. Abbey Road, which contains their final work together, is a place where this divergence is pretty clear. Here's the list of the Lennon songs: "I Want You (She's So Heavy)", "Come Together", and "Because". And here are McCartney's: "Maxwell's Silver Hammer", "Oh! Darling", and the side-two medley that begins with "You Never Give Me Your Money" and ends with "The End" - with the exception of "Polythene Pam", which was Lennon's.

Lennon was influenced by Presley in terms of performing style as well. His stage demeanor - feet apart, head up high, humourous expression - is clearly an extension of Elvis'. One could do worse: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PU5xxh5UX4U

Other than having played bass for two of the most famous of English rock groups, Paul McCartney and Sid Vicious don't have a lot in common. But there is one other thing: Eddie Cochran, the great rock and roll singer and guitarist who died at the age of twenty-one in a traffic accident in England (and for which the taxi driver was found criminally responsible). In his short career he accomplished a lot, and his influence on rock has been profound. Musicians as disparate as the two bassists mentioned above have covered, and learned from his songs. To them add Marc Bolan (from T. Rex), Pete Townshend and the rest of the Who (whose version of "Summertime Blues" on Live at Leeds has become almost as iconic as the original), Led Zeppelin, the New York Dolls, the Stones, the Beach Boys, and many more. An impressive list, to say the least. By the way, it was seeing Nowhere Boy that brought him to mind: the film shows (correctly) that the song that the fifteen-year-old McCartney played when first introduced to Lennon on June 29, 1957 was Cochran's "Twenty Flight Rock". I'm going to write about the influence of Cochran and Elvis Presley on McCartney and Lennon, respectively, tomorrow. For the moment, here's a link (and the lyrics) for "Summertime Blues": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MeWC59FJqGc

I'm gonna raise a fuss, I'm gonna raise a holler

About a workin' all summer just to try to earn a dollar

Every time I call my baby, and try to get a date

My boss says, "No dice son, you gotta work late"

Sometimes I wonder what I'm a gonna do

But there ain't no cure for the summertime blues

Well my mom and pop told me, "Son you gotta make some money,

If you want to use the car to go ridin' next Sunday"

Well I didn't go to work, told the boss I was sick

"Well you can't use the car 'cause you didn't work a lick"

Sometimes I wonder what I'm a gonna do

But there ain't no cure for the summertime blues

I'm gonna take two weeks, gonna have a fine vacation

I'm gonna take my problem to the United Nations

Well I called my congressman and he said Quote:

"I'd like to help you son but you're too young to vote"

Sometimes I wonder what I'm a gonna do

But there ain't no cure for the summertime blues

The role of the bass in a band, in music in general, is crucial. The bass part is similar to a planet - in that it exerts a gravitational pull on the other parts, which can perhaps leap or even occasionally fly, but not escape. In fact, one of the elements that gives music its powerful emotional force is the gravitational or magnetic attraction between the bass and the rest of the instrumentation. Therefore, it is not a surprise that, like Motown with James Jamerson, the best player in the Beatles was the bassist. Ringo Starr once called Paul McCartney the most melodic of bass players, which is succinct and true; his playing always has a singing quality (cf. Duke Ellington who used to ask his band, after they had played something new, if everyone liked their parts). It was an irreplaceable element of the Beatles' music, in whatever style they explored. The two most notable tracks on Starr's recent release, Y Not (2010), both feature McCartney: one as a singer and the other as a bassist. On the former, "Walk with You", it is interesting to hear him in a duet with Ringo. The Beatles rarely used this device, in the sense where more than one singer can be clearly identified as singing from their own personality. Usually, there was a lead vocal performance with the identity of the singer easy to hear, and the others providing backing with the singers much harder to pinpoint. It was amazing, and I don't know how they did it. But on this track, it's clearly Ringo and Paul singing together (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c68v6WIZeRI). The other track is called "Peace Dream", and it's a wonderful treat to hear the great rhythm section together again. Also, check out the very cool references to Lennon and Harrison, via both lyrical and guitar allusions: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UE7ju4lU2W0

John Lennon's first solo album, John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (1970) is usually considered to be his best. I'm not entirely sure about that, but it is a very powerful record. On the musical side, Ringo Starr's drumming is a big reason. His listening ability is what sets him apart from the pack. Like the r&b guitarist Steve Cropper, his technical prowess is not based on velocity or the number of notes, but rather feel and placement. Only great listeners can do it. An analogy could be drawn to the world of team sports, where there are certain players who are concerned with personal statistics and getting attention, and there are others who play only to benefit the team and who have the ability to make those around them perform better. If Starr were an athlete, he would be of the latter type. I'll be writing about some of his solo work tomorrow.

Lennon's instrumental contributions are equally brilliant. It's very interesting to hear him away from the other Beatles, and to be able to clearly distinguish his style and touch. For example, his guitar sound contains a very cool fifties reference through the use of tremolo. A good tune on which to hear it is "Hold On": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLOTD7wrbtQ&feature=related. (Note the Sesame Street reference.)

One aspect of his writing that has always interested me is how much he gets out of chords. Many of his most beautiful melodies come from very spare harmonic settings. He doesn't change chords just for the sake of it, in other words. His melodies, therefore, have the quality of being necessary, called for. This also is the result of advanced listening. Lyrically, the album was at the beginning of a long run of ultra-honest writing. In fact it could be argued that the most telling characteristic of his solo career was its honesty, which some found off-putting at times with its renderings of emotional and marital intimacy as well as his uncompromising political views. Fair enough, he wasn't asking for our permission anyway. But I remember something one of my teachers said once. An artist must do two things: 1. Be honest. 2. Develop the technical means to communicate that honesty. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkybcZ_stAk&feature=related

I'll be returning to post-Beatle solo music tomorrow - I'm still catching up on my listening. But today, since I mentioned the rhyming of "rock show" and "Concertgebouw" in yesterday's post, I wanted to give a couple of examples of the use of what some poets and songwriters call "forced" or "contrived" rhyme. In poetry it's used mainly in light verse, for the purpose of humour - think of Ogden Nash, In fact, here's a link to "The Eel": http://www.ogdennash.org/poems/the_eel.htm.

And a song that is known for it is Queen's "I'm in Love with My Car", which features lines such as, "Told my girl I'd have to forget her/ Rather buy me a new carburretor". As in the poem above, liberties are taken with spelling and pronunciation - that's the point, actually. Give it a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQTu9vx-laY, and when you do, notice Brian May's rendering of automotive sounds with the use of guitar overdubs. The song is a lot of fun in every way. I'm sure the Beach Boys, who no doubt inspired it, would approve.

OK, I listened to some more post-Beatle solo music today, and really enjoyed it. I wonder if these albums will be more and more appreciated as the years pass, because I can't think of any reason that they shouldn't be. Much of their solo work suffered by comparison with the Beatles output, but what doesn't? There are very few rock groups that don't sound sound diminished when played right after them, so to compare the albums of the individuals to albums made by all four is unrealistic. The two albums that I listened to today were pure delights, and nobody will convince me otherwise. (I'm referring here to the surprisingly poor reviews these recordings got at the time.)

George Harrison's self-titled 1979 album, his first for his Dark Horse label, features his beautiful legato singing on ten well played and well produced tracks. Here's a link to the remastered version of "Blow Away": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yaA7TVenPXA&feature=related (And check out the early video. By the way, the promotional clips that the Beatles did for such tracks as "Rain" and "Paperback Writer" are often credited with starting music videos. Here's a link to the latter: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH3TvSxT288&feature=related)

Venus and Mars (1975), the fourth album by Paul McCartney and Wings was great to hear again as well. I'll always love "Rock Show" for its great rhyme of the title with "Concertgebouw", and for mentioning Jimmy Page. More songs should do that. "Listen to What the Man Said" ranks with his best singles - and he's had a few good ones, you'll agree. Here's a link to another remastered version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nw1lmCS11A8&feature=related

Seeing Nowhere Boy and re-listening to some of Lennon's work with the Beatles has gotten me wanting to check out some of his solo work again, as well. So I'll be writing about some of it in the days ahead. I'm also going to give another spin to the solo stuff of the other three chaps. Today, I'll recommend McCartney's Chaos and Creation in the Backyard from 2005, which coincidentally features a cover photo called Our Kid through Mom's Net Curtains that was taken at roughly the same time as the events portrayed in the movie mentioned above. Virtually all of the instrumental work was done by McCartney, and it's impressive. It was produced by Nigel Godrich, sometimes referred to as the sixth member of Radiohead for his work with them. The album is rich and resonant in sound, beautifully sung and played by an astonishing musician capable of matching his very best work right into his sixties. Here's a link for "English Tea": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sa3D1OrZZpo

I'll always be a fan of the J. Geils Band after seeing them on the night that Elvis Presley died. They were backing up Peter Frampton at the Montreal Forum, and they found just the right tone - respectful but fun-loving - for the occasion. I remember thinking that he would've enjoyed the show. Peter Wolf, the fast-talking, former-DJ hipster who's fronted the group for over forty years dedicated one of their slow ones (sorry, I'm not sure which) to Elvis, saying that without him, "none of us would be here tonight", which was quite simply right. Wolf, always a great entertainer, gave a particularly wild performance that night. I remember him doing crazy frog-type leaps around the stage while singing "Must've Got Lost". As the man himself might have said, "That cat is gone." The album I've been re-listening to lately is their second, The Morning After from 1971, which is a pure r&b blast. But for a sense of what the aforementioned show was like, I'd recommend their memorably-titled double live album, Blow Your Face Out (1976). Here's a link to the studio version of their cover of the Supremes' "Where Did Our Love Go?" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9KdTeqGrzg . It's terrific, but try to hear the live one if you can. That's where they're at their best (as was Elvis).

As I mentioned Wednesday, I was planning to see the John Lennon movie - Nowhere Boy, directed by Sam Taylor-Wood - as soon as I could. So I did; I saw it today, and it was terrific. The acting, the settings (it was shot in Liverpool), the directing, I thought they were all convincing. As for the music, I think they did well there too. Because Aaron Johnson was himself learning to play the guitar and sing to do the role, we get to witness some of the process as it may have actually sounded at the time. McCartney came from a more musical background than Lennon - his father was a professional musician - and was therefore more advanced in skills at the time. But the film shows, correctly, that Lennon was the group's spiritual leader; he had a heart full of soul (as I'm sure the Yardbirds would agree). Of course, he would catch up musically as well, and go on to become one of the greatest musicians of the century. The movie helps to clarify how this happened, and to dispel some of the mythologizing around the Beatles. In this age of instant gratification and televised talent shows, it's important to be reminded that the Beatles' brilliance came from their work ethic. As the song says: a working class hero is something to be, and it has nothing to do with the part of town in which one's born.

Another notable debut was Gang of Four's Entertainment! (1979). Its title is quite indicative of the tone of both its musical and lyrical content. (By the way, the last word of the previous sentence is the name of their latest release, from 2010.) On Entertainment!, the band combined elements of funk, reggae and modernism to create a sound that was rare in punk, largely because of its creative use of space. This was achieved via the band's modernist/minimalist, staccato-attack style. They succeeded in making the sharp edges of their individual parts into a smooth whole. I saw the group live once, and that performance ranks among the most powerful and energetic I've heard. There wasn't a stationary person in the club. Lyrically, they come from a hard-left angle perhaps influenced by the Clash, and with song titles such as, "I Found that Essence Rare", "At Home He's a Tourist", and "Guns before Butter", it's easy to see that irony is their primary mode. The vocal style with which they deliver it is also very interesting: they make use of shouting and chanting as much as singing. In this band, everyone is in the rhythm section. I'm glad that I got to re-discover this record; it's great. I'll be writing about Content soon, once I hear it.

As I'm sure you know, it would have been John Lennon's seventieth birthday on Saturday. So I thought I'd write about him today, for that reason, and because I'm looking forward to the release of Nowhere Boy this Friday (in Montreal, anyway). First, as a guitarist, Lennon rarely got the respect he deserved, but his contributions to the Beatles' sound was immense. Like Pete Townshend, the bulk of his instrumental innovation can be found in his rhythm guitar playing. One of the greatest examples is the triplet-feel part that he plays on "All My Loving" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PuVVs30gIb8&feature=related). He plays a very difficult feel with great touch and swing. Very hard to do and completely original.

As a performer, he had some of the Elvis Presley quality of being both in the middle of, as well as above, the frenzy. There was always a sense of humour involved, and he used it wisely. On the early records, and in the early videos, it's clear that he's the leader of the band. He was the oldest member, and at that point the most assured performer and vocalist. Over time, that changed somewhat, as the others caught up, but they only did so with his example to follow. As a singer, well, I've written about it before, but for me, he's in the top five all-time. Here is a list of some of his great vocal performances: "Twist and Shout", "Baby, It's You", "It Won't Be Long", "Money (That's What I Want)", "Rain", "Any Time at All", "Run For Your Life", "In My Life", "No Reply", "Mr. Moonlight", "Help!", "Dizzy Miss Lizzy", "Norwegian Wood", "Girl", "I'm Only Sleeping" - and that's only up to 1966. There are many others from before and after that date. I'd recommend listening to all of the above (and the others as well), but if I had to pick only one performance to exemplify the passion and the fun that his voice conveys, it would be this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXOdAgLZQPs.

The Beatles' debut album, Please Please Me (1963), is another one that's high on the all-time list. It was recorded quickly (apparently ten of the fourteen tracks were done in one ten-hour session), but that's irrelevant in music. The amount of time and practice that are done before a recording is what makes the difference. As one of my teachers once said, "You can hear how much someone has practiced with every note they play". This album is a case in point.

Another aspect of the record that always amazes me is the assured manner in which the band handles differing tempos and feels. Listen to "Do You Want to Know a Secret?" back-to-back with "Twist and Shout", or "Baby, It's You" right after "Boys". Seven of the album's tracks are originals, and they provide a glimpse of what was to come over the next seven years. I would even argue that "There's a Place" should be considered among the very greatest of their compositions, and also one of the most beautiful singing performances in rock history. Hear for yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4lGuxEWn3c&feature=related

The Clash (1977) is another of the all-time great debut recordings. But before I go further, I have to be clear that I'm referring to the real debut album - not the 1979 U.S. release that dropped "Deny", "Protex Blue", "48 Hours", and "Cheat" in favour of later singles-based releases like "Clash City Rockers", "Complete Control" and others. With the changes, the album sounds more like a compilation than a cohesive statement, which is too bad, because it was one of the most powerful statements of its kind in rock history. It brought a very important concept to the world of rock and roll: the idea that the way you think and act are important. It could be argued that the Pistols were more pyromaniacal in their approach to social issues (although I'd argue that it was necessary at the time), and that the Clash offered a way forward. For me, and many others that I knew at the time, and others I've met since, it was tremendously exciting and liberating. Rock badly needed to re-integrate the do-it-yourself ethos. Don't forget that this was the time when rock musicians used to wear capes, bat-wings and so forth onto smoke-machined stages that contained banks of synthesizers, where they'd play the scales and arpeggios that they had learned in piano lessons. Yipes. For a teenager who wanted to participate, there didn't seem to be a point of entry. Until the Pistols, the Ramones, and these guys, that is. As a matter of fact, this may be the album that I've listened to the most times - due to endless plays through headphones during my high school days. Time well spent.

The Clash was probably the most articulate and idealistic of all punk bands, and very likely the most influential. Virtually every artist that tries to make their work move toward improvement and equity in the world is indebted to them. Also, the idea that punk should be inclusive in terms of musical style and cultural input mostly came from them as well. They were one of the first punk bands to cross-pollinate their music with reggae, and certainly the most successful. I'll dedicate another post soon to their awesome fourth album Sandinista! from 1980, which took this aspect of their work to its furthest point. In the meantime, listen to this album in its original form if you possibly can, and see the film that does justice to Joe Strummer's great legacy: Julien Temple's Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten (2007). Here are links for two of the album's greatest tracks: "Janie Jones" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyoW0tf6N-Q&feature=related and "Police and Thieves" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6FZwVvS8_8 .

I'm not sure where I heard my favourite Jimi Hendrix story, so I'm not positive about its veracity, but here it is anyway: When Hendrix was nine or so, he was evaluated by one of his school's counselors and when the report was filed, it said that the fact that he didn't have a guitar was damaging him psychologically. Well, as I mentioned, I'm not sure that this actually happened, but I do know that he eventually did get a guitar, and learned how to play it. His first album, Are You Experienced, was released in 1967, and for a rock trio record, it still hasn't been surpassed. "Purple Haze", the first song, might be the greatest opening track ever. The thrillingly dramatic intro opens up into a groove that features Hendrix' mastery of implied guitar rhythms - something he must have learned in the highly disciplined musical world of sixties professional rhythm and blues - but here adapted to an entirely new purpose. Another characteristic of the album is the astonishing variety of the soloing - it's almost compositional in nature. Hendrix seems to have had the ability to think way ahead in the song's form when improvising - an attribute often associated with Charlie Parker and other great jazz musicians. On "Manic Depression", for example, he plays against the beat to create powerful tension, on "The Wind Cries Mary", he plays a solo that seems to bring in elements of both country and blues - wait a minute, that's the formula for rock and roll itself - and gets the mix just right: it's one of the best solos I've ever heard. The songwriting throughout is quite simply beautiful: "Love or Confusion", "May This Be Love", "I Don't Live Today" and the title track (which uses a question mark, unlike the album title) are sophisticated, surprising, and yet natural, compositionally-speaking. There isn't a weak cut on the album.

A few words on the rest of the band: They are great. Mitch Mitchell on drums seems to have been influenced both stylistically and in terms of touch by the most important jazz drummer of the era, Elvin Jones. He uses variation more than most rock drummers do, for one thing. His interplay with Hendrix is fascinating throughout the record, and particularly on the instrumental, "Third Stone from the Sun". Noel Redding on bass, had more experience as a guitarist than most bassists do, which may have helped him to think along with Hendrix. His decision-making is uncanny - his groove, too. To sum it up: When listening to the album, keep in mind that this was their debut recording. Man.

I mentioned two great debut albums yesterday - Nick Drake's Five Leaves Left (1969) and The Jimi Hendrix Experience's Are You Experienced (1967) - both of which could be legitimately considered as the finest recordings of their respective careers. It got me thinking about a couple of things: 1. Why does it often seem to be the case that the earliest recordings of an artist are generally those that are the most popular with listeners? 2. Which other debut albums deserve to be considered, along with those mentioned above, in the category of the best ever? One album that I posted on not too long ago that deserves inclusion is The Velvet Underground and Nico (1967), which shares a key characteristic with the other two: its variety. The way I see it is fairly simple. A first album is like an undergraduate degree - or perhaps the first year or two of serious study in a discipline. Artists want to take a survey of the terrain, to experiment with as many aspects as they can, and to show what they can do. Also, they are still at the point in their career where the perceived possibilities far exceed the limitations. As time goes on, artists will often get more specific in their work, and investigate certain aspects of music in a more focused and/or thorough way. For example, compare White Light/White Heat (1968) with its supercharged electric sound, and The Velvet Underground (1969), with its acoustic settings, to the first album with its examples of both. I hope you'll agree that this is an interesting area to consider, and I'm going to continue to do so over the next few posts. Tomorrow: Are You Experienced.

There would be an argument for Nick Drake's first album being his best. Five Leaves Left (1969) is an amazingly assured debut album - among the very greatest ever (up there with Hendrix' Are You Experienced, to name another). It contains many splendid songs in many styles and rhythms, with great contributions from guest instrumentalists and arrangers. I wrote about my favourite track, "River Man", in my July 25 post concerning songs in the too infrequently used 5/4. The song's harmonic content is another of its distinctive features as it contains a highly original progression from C minor through Bb and Ab to a resolution on a C major. Its lyric is haunting and suggestive - the title character could be interpreted symbolically in a number of ways, for example. The string arrangement, by the film composer Harry Robinson, is perfect in its emotional content and imagery. (I'm not sure of this, but I think it may have had some influence on the work that Jonny Greenwood has done with Radiohead.) "Way to Blue" is set for voice and string quartet only, with another compelling arrangement done by Robert Kirby. And on it goes, each track showcases Drake's awesome talents as guitarist, composer and vocalist, with inspired support from different contributors - including Paul Harris on piano, Richard Thompson on electric guitar, Rocky Dzidzornu on congas, and Clare Lowther on the title instrument in "'Cello Song". I think I mentioned the other day that none of Drake's albums sold very well upon initial release - none sold more than 5,000 copies. It's difficult to believe when you hear them, and it's too bad as well, because it's hard to avoid the feeling that some success might have helped him. But it's too late for that. At least we can appreciate his work now, and try to learn something from it: for good music to flourish, good listeners are required.

In many ways, the guitar is a very primitive instrument. Reduced to its essence, its a piece of wood with strings on it. Its popularity (as I've noted before) has a lot to do with its portability (from place to place) and adaptability (from style to style). Another big factor is the fact that there is no one right way to play it. It can be played with a pick or with several, with some of the fingers or with all of them, or even with the thumb alone - which is how Wes Montgomery played and he is considered (correctly) to be among the very greatest of jazz guitarists, so we know that can work. In terms of the style that I'll call acoustic finger-style folk, Nick Drake is in similar company. His third album, Pink Moon (1972) is probably the one that shows his prowess at its maximum. The album is a solo effort in its truest sense: there are no other musicians. (It's remarkable how different his three albums are in terms of conception, in fact. For example, the album that I posted on yesterday, Bryter Layter, displays Drake's abilities in playing with a band.) The listener doesn't feel that there is anything missing either, thanks to the dazzling songwriting, Drake's one-of-a-kind vocal style and the aforementioned guitar mastery. I was surprised to find out that it's only a little over twenty-eight minutes long - it doesn't feel that way, at all. (One critic used to end reviews with "consumer alerts" for albums that he felt weren't long enough. It always struck me as silly. Do we judge a poem based on its length? A Love Supreme is just over thirty-three minutes, by the way - should consumers be dissuaded from that one?) In listening to the record today, I remembered how Segovia once compared the guitar to a "little orchestra". The greatest guitarists, people like Nick Drake, are all the proof needed for that analogy. (Suggested listening: "Things Behind the Sun" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV4D_q9QiuQ&feature=related )

Bryter Layter (1970) is most likely the least popular of Nick Drake's three albums. It probably has to do with the instrumentation - electric guitar, drums, piano, strings, saxophone and brass - which gives the record a more mainstream rock sound than the other two, that more prominently feature Drake's incomparable acoustic guitar playing. It's too bad, because it's a wonderful record. Drake's singing is absolutely incredible throughout, for one thing. It's interesting to listen to great instrumentalists who also have put comparable effort into their singing - Chet Baker, the jazz trumpeter and vocalist is another. It's hard to describe, but it seems like there's a specific quality to the phrasing and tone that perhaps can only be reached by this approach. The arrangements, some with strings and others with brass, are very much of their time, but for me that increases their poignancy, and at their center is the powerful pulse of Drake's guitar. The album is best listened to as a whole, because there are lovely instrumental pieces that frame and provide an interlude from the main action. And what action it is - the album contains some of Drake's greatest songs, including "At the Chime of a City Clock", "Poor Boy", and "Northern Sky". Yesterday, I mentioned that I've been listening to this record daily for the past three weeks, well I can't see any end in sight. I'm off to listen to it now.

I suppose it's for two reasons that I often think of Nick Drake as music's equivalent to John Keats: 1. They both produced a very high percentage of masterpieces in a short career. 2. They both died in their mid-twenties. Drake recorded three albums during his lifetime - Five Leaves Left (1969), Bryter Layter (1970), and Pink Moon (1972). Each one is brilliant and completely distinctive from the others, but not one of them sold more than five thousand copies upon its initial release. With time, and numerous cover versions (the great jazz pianist Brad Mehldau has covered at least three of his songs) - it's become clear that he was a musician of the very highest rank. (Aside to the critics who gave bad reviews to these records: You will be forgiven, and feel much better, if and when you stop writing about music.) I'm going to write at least one post on each of them, and I'm going to start tomorrow with Bryter Layter, which I've been listening to daily for about the past three weeks. Here's a sample: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4Va1xJUjC0

Another great song about New York is Garland Jeffreys' "New York Skyline", from his brilliant 1977 album, Ghostwriter. Jeffreys was a college friend of the pre-Velvets Lou Reed at Syracuse, and they've remained friends - Reed still makes guest appearances at his shows - as recently as last Tuesday, in fact. Man, would I love to see that. The one time that I was lucky enough to see Jeffreys perform live was at the Montreal Jazz Festival in the summer of 2007, where an acoustic performance of this song was the highlight of an electrifying set. During the song's tag, Jeffreys sang of some of the city's famed skyscrapers: the Chrysler, the Empire State, the Pan Am - and when he sang, "We've got those two big towers" as if they were still standing, the crowd went wild. There was a collective realization that he was right - in a very important way, we still do. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cPZ-Z7RNulQ&feature=related

Of all the great songs written about New York, and there have been many, I think my favourite is Cole Porter's "I Happen to Like New York", which was written for a 1930 musical called The New Yorkers (its most famous song was "Love for Sale", incidentally). From the title to the tone of the lyrics, it perfectly captures the nonchalance (on the surface) and pride (to the core) that Gotham natives share. The music, in majestic 3/4 time, builds from a pensive, wistful opening to a climax of elation, similar to the feelings that can arise on a Sunday afternoon stroll in the city. Here is the link to Judy Garland's version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6c9_3yjV7k

David Ackles, the singer-songwriter from Rock Island, Illinois, made four albums in his short but artistically successful career. Like the Velvet Underground, albeit in a different genre, he had more influence on other artists than sales. Two of the singer-songwriters that are indebted to him, Elton John and Elvis Costello, got a chance to say thanks and to sing one of his songs on Costello's Spectacle in 2008. That song, "Down River" is a very great one that features a lyric with a one-sided and rueful conversation between the narrator and a character named Rosie, whose contributions to the dialogue have to be inferred. The chorus reveals that the title is a beautiful metaphor for things gone by. The song's introduction is also masterful, as a seemingly slightly out-of-tune piano plays a figure based on the overtone series (the natural extra pitches that are heard above a note), then, when Ackles' educated vocal begins, the piano suddenly sounds strong and resonant (as does the voice). It is very interesting to compare the song with Costello's "Alison" and John's "Your Song" (co-written with the lyricist Bernie Taupin, who produced Ackles' third album American Gothic from 1972), because so many of the elements that they contain are also found in the Ackles masterpiece. They (Costello and John) were right; Ackles was indeed a major influence on them. Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6iBb5EXi8h0&feature=related

One of the things that I respect the most from an artist is improvement, particularly the kind that shows a clear arc of development from the beginning of a career to its conclusion. The Beatles would be one example, and the Replacements another. Of course, many fans have favourite recordings that are chosen on the basis of when they first discovered the group, but I think it would be clear to an impartial listener that the best playing and writing done by the Replacements is found on their final two albums, Don't Tell a Soul (1989) and All Shook Down (1990). Paul Westerberg, one of the greatest songwriters in the history of rock, was at his peak both as composer and vocalist, and the band's playing had fully incorporated the swing feel (in the Chuck Berry sense mostly, but jazz rhythms as well) that they had investigated on earlier tracks such as "Swingin' Party" and "Waitress in the Sky" from 1985's Tim.

Westerberg's lyrics require connective work on the part of the listener, but they're worth the effort. He's one of the few songwriters that has the Lou Reed-like ability to find great pathos in a small detail. "The Last", appropriately the final track on their final album, is for me, their greatest song. And that's saying something, because they've got a lot of them. But this one has all of the elements that made them what they were - the greatest rock and roll band of their time.