Faith No More - Angel Dust (1992)

Riding on the enormous success of "Epic," replete with its closing piano and flopping fish, Faith No More decided to pillage Mr. Bungle's exorbitant little closet via Mike Patton as a conduit. Ergo, the smattering of heavy-riffed funkadelic rap fusion is at its arguable best here in Angel Dust, their fourth album, and second with Vice Chancellor Patton. The album opens with "Land Of Sunshine," a freakish carnival ride of a song with filthy bass and guitar lines and an array of Patton's progressive vocal croonings. "Crack Hitler" has a plunky funk rhythm with a scratchy turntable wah tone, some exemplary synth, and is just utterly fantastic. "Midlife Crisis," perhaps as well-known as "Epic," is an incredibly insidious number, featuring the best of Pattton's vocal theatrics and a medley of infectious beats. Hell, even a rendition of the theme for "Midnight Cowboy" is surprisingly rousing. "Caffeine," "Smaller And Smaller" and especially "Jizzlobber" are particularly heavy as well. "Be Aggressive" has some startling lyrical content in between the thumping notes ("You're the master and I'll take it on my knees" and "I swallow," among other lines) and is almost as odd a selection as is the musical content spanning the album -- which is of course why "Big" Jim Martin left afterwards. Despite his enormous guitar presence and prodigious talents, the vocal influence and direction by Patton served him his eventual walking papers. A shame, really, because Faith No More never quite recovered with subsequent sub-par albums. Get 'em while they're hot. A tautly conceived B.

Radiohead - In Rainbows (2007) (second disc)

Since I've already reviewed In Rainbows, I suppose I must review the second disc from the boxset as well. The second disc is comprised of eight tracks, two of which are actually one-minute one-offs of experimental noise ("Mk 2') and a reprise-like coda of "Videotape" ("Mk 1"). Of the remaining songs, I could give a fupenny tuck for "4 Minute Warning" and also find "Up On The Ladder" and "Go Slowly" to be fairly engaging, but not terribly exciting stuff -- although still better than most tripe you'll find on popular albums today. The real meat and matters lies in the remaining three numbers: "Down Is The New Up," "Last Flowers" and "Bangers + Mash." Wowzas people, these are really really good. "Last Flowers" is a mostly piano-driven piece and is, I think, one of Radiohead's more beautiful songs. The recording of this entire album clearly showcases the fact that they wished for Thom's voice to be heard much more clearly. "Down Is The New Up," which was aloft in the rumor bin as a possible name for the album, also features a great bit of piano, with some similar up-tempo beats from "15 Step." "Bangers + Mash" is a song I wished was on the regular LP, but have conceded to the band's reasoning that none of these songs fit musically with the rest of the album. It's the funkiest thing these fellows have ever done and a wee bit different than when I originally heard the song here. Still, it's really nice to see Thom playing the drums while he sings and Jonny nastily striking at his guitar. All in all, B-

Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie - Bird And Diz (1950)

After a week of hell, I've returned to invoke (or attempt) my bombastic blather in the disguise of a review with Bird And Diz. Hopefully, my appreciation for jazz won't supersede my musical knowledge of it, but ah well. This collection of songs features a fairly estimable lineup of Charlie Parker on sax, Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet, Thelonious Monk on piano, Buddy Rich on drums and Curly Russell on bass. This is not the Monk everyone knows and loves, though; his playing is rather subdued and uneventful, as is the drumming and bass. Meanwhile, back in the bat cave, Bird and Diz seem to be strangling each other for the whole of the record (possibly the reason for Thelonious' relegation to the background) with mid-tempo caustic soloing and wild melodies in a constant battle for your attention. Occasionally, they do converge ("Mohawk"), but mostly numbers such as the frenetic "Leap Frog" or equally tense "Bloomdido" share an affinity for the joys of musical flight. "An Oscar For Treadwell" is quite nice, too -- in point of fact, of the six songs here, clocking in at a brief 20 minutos, there isn't a bad bit of music at all, but since I'm obviously a rock guy, that doesn't translate as well in terms of my grading pedagogy, either. All in all, you'll dig the piss out of it. Oh, and ho-hum, I'd give Bird the nod in terms of a victor. B

Rush - Moving Pictures (1981)

The instrumental "YYZ" is the reason I began listening to Rush in the first place -- with its bloated bass blurblings, chunky guitar noodling and tenacious technical drumming -- is Neil Peart a robot, or what? I had heard "Tom Sawyer" on the radio, but I never seemed convinced enough to lend my ears to these guys. I'm sure glad that I did. Now what I didn't do was purchase a greatest hits compilation; what I did do, however, was purchase Moving Pictures first, arguably Rush's best album, if not its most popular, for those very reasons.

The album begins with the now-ubiquitous "Tom Sawyer," a song featuring a hybrid of vintage rock and new wave melodies. Everyone is on point as usual: Neal Peart is not content with just keeping the beat; Geddy Lee wants to spank his bass until he gets arrested for it and Alex Lifeson decides he's in it to win it. Remarkable stuff, really -- that such a trio can create such clean yet powerful music with each instrument easily heard. The torrid "Red Barchetta," the autobiographical "Limelight" and the aforementioned "YYZ" make up the whole of side one, and it's a complete doozy of a side, for sure. I can listen to it over and over for hours. As for side two, I don't care much for "Witch Hunt" and while I like the epic quality of "The Camera Eye" and the meaty "Vital Signs," the second side is simply not as powerful or musically adept. (This actually occurs on most albums I listen to -- the last few songs are always weaker than the first several -- any theories?) Unfortunately, whether you're ready to lay down you first-born for this album, or you prefer Permanent Waves or A Farewell To Kings, this is where it more or less ends for me as these fellows progress towards heavy synthesized new wave. You probably have this album anyway, but still. B+

Derek And The Dominos - Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs (1970)

I'm going to indulge a bit here and act on what lingering loathing I've lovingly lathered over the past few days regarding Mssr. Eric Clapton in the comments section and have decided to put, as Bob would say, the sacred cow on the chopping block for slaughter. I almost chose the overrated Wheels Of Fire, but decided this one would suffice. This is not to say that I'm going to spend the next few lines demoralizing Clapton, but his unwelcome and mediocre spirit will be criticized, for sure. It's not that mediocrity is necessarily a terrible thing, but when such mediocrity is so highly praised, that is when I become particularly agitated, hence his deserved exclusion off my top 50 list, and perhaps even 100, for that matter.

With that, let's get on with the story of Eric's -- er, Derek's -- manic love-fest of an album. It starts off well enough with "I Looked Away," the tender "Bell Bottom Blues" and the rollicking "Keep On Growing" and then, no matter how good Duane Allman's licks or presence, the album suddenly sucks. "Nobody Knows When You're Down And Out" is muddled bluesy dreck; "Anyday," featuring otherwise tasty Duane Allman slide, is pretty much drivel otherwise. This rather lifeless torpor continues on for the entirety of the album, to include the horrible "Have You Ever Loved A Woman" and the most tepid and uninspiring cover of Hendrix's "Little Wing". Two notable exceptions are the ferocious "Why Does Love Got To Be So Sad?" and, of course, "Layla," which I love oh so dearly. Of course, such a heap of praise is not without explanation. See, that opening guitar line -- that was not only played by Duane Allman, but was created by him as well; and those bird-like tones produced during the piano coda are his as well. In fact, I would be positively frightened to hear not only that song, but this entire album as well had he had not appeared on it. I suppose, perhaps, this is Clapton's true genius: surrounding himself with far better talent to substitute for his own shortcomings and riding their coattails. Hence, his additional lack of kudos from me for his time during Cream, Blind Faith and The Yardbirds, although as far as praise is concerned, this is Clapton's best work -- whatever that means. Regardless, it is what is. Thank you, Duane. Screw you, Eric. And I promise to be nice for the next few. C-

The Move - Message From The Country (1971)

OK, time for a rarity. For those comfortably sequestered in camp ELO, allow me to invite an old friend back into the group, someone who spent a good part of the old days in the music backwoods with Father Lynne: The Move, heretofore known as candidate for the unfortunate title of Best-Band-That-Never-Made-It-Big (except perhaps in the UK). Initially led by mastermind Roy Wood, and later inflected with the imaginary Beatle Lynne's orchestral sensibilities, The Move were a solid British band that produced four solid albums, the last of which, Message From The Country, is their finest. Unlike ELO, they had no definitive "megahit," but also unlike ELO, they never had a weak album and weren't an irresponsible singles band.

Beginning with "Message From The Country," the eclectic musical leanings are made readily apparent with the main harmony layered with Lynne's ELO-esque vocal phrasings and Roy Wood's beefy undercurrent. "Until Your Mama's Gone" opens with a beautiful acoustic line and then moves to a bass-thumping, piano-rollicking number that keeps on exploding right until the end. I love that one. "Don't Mess Me Up" is a kind of rockabilly romper and "My Marge" is a campy little joke of a song, but you've got to dig it -- or else. "The Words Of Aaron" is possibly my favorite Move song; I hate to keep drawing comparisons, but it's like a minimalist ELO song musically, but that still manages to retain much of its power. "Ella James" and "The Minister" are good ones, too. Also, as a quick afterthought, if you've heard the song "Do Ya" by ELO, it was originally a Move single released in conjunction with this album. All in all, you can't go wrong with these guys. It's sad they never "made" it in America. B+

Mad Hatter Music Top 50 Guitarists

1. Jimi Hendrix
2. Ritchie Blackmore (Deep Purple, Rainbow)
3. Tony Iommi (Black Sabbath)
4. David Gilmour (Pink Floyd)
5. Robert Fripp (King Crimson, solo)
6. Eddie Van Halen (Van Halen)
7. Jeff "Skunk" Baxter (Steely Dan, The Doobie Brothers)
8. Denny Dias (Steely Dan)
9. Ted Nugent (Amboy Dukes, solo)
10. Brian May (Queen)
11. Andy Summers (The Police)
12. Angus Young (AC/DC)
13. Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top)
14. Duane Allman (The Allman Brothers Band)
15. Allen Collins (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
16. Alvin Lee (Ten Years After)
17. Pete Townshend (The Who)
18. Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin)
19. Johnny Marr (The Smiths)
20. Rory Gallagher
21. Randy Rhoads (Ozzy Osbourne)
22. Toy Caldwell (The Marshall Tucker Band)
23. Hughie Thomasson (The Outlaws)
24. Jonny Greenwood (Radiohead)
25. Dickie Betts (The Allman Brothers Band)

26. Frank Zappa
27. David "The Edge" Evans (U2)
28. Keith Richards (The Rolling Stones)
29. Alex Skolnick (Testament)
30. Robbie Krieger (The Doors)
31. Mick Ronson (David Bowie)
32. Alex Lifeson (Rush)
33. Ron Asheton (The Stooges)
34. John McLaughlin (The Mahavishnu Orchestra)
35. Donald "Buck Dharma" Roeser (Blue Öyster Cult)
36. Dave Mustaine (Megadeth)
37. "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott (Pantera)
38. John Frusciante (Red Hot Chili Peppers)
39. Josh Homme (Kyuss, Queens Of The Stone Age)
40. Kirk Hammett (Metallica)
41. Slash (Guns 'N' Roses)
42. Jerry Cantrell (Alice In Chains)
43. Tony Bourge (Budgie)
44. Eddie Phillips (The Creation)
45. Robin Trower (Procol Harum, solo)
46. Tom Morello (Rage Against The Machine, Audioslave)
47. Jan Akkerman (Focus)
48. Johnny Winter
49. Dean Ween (Ween)
50. Kaki King

Based on guitar chops and skill, originality, influence, style, etc., these represent my top 50 guitarists. Therefore, while Pink Floyd is my all-time favorite band, it did not guarantee David Gilmour the top spot -- after all, this is purely guitar-work. Also, as this is not something quantitative, my order of ranking is purely subjective and obviously subject to change as my opinion dawdles. As an example, when I listen to Dimebag's solo/outro on "Floods"

I think he's the greatest guitarist ever, especially because it sounds like he's playing his own funeral song (rest in peace, brother). Then I hear "Voodoo Child" and think, uh, no. Noticeably absent on the list are Eric Clapton, John Lee Hooker, Steve Cropper and the like; and while I do not deny their unique history in music, they are not my cup of tea, especially with the kind of crumpets I prefer. As an added note, I fucking hate Eric Clapton. How's that for eloquence? Enjoy and comment all you like.

Kyuss - ...And The Circus Leaves Town (1995)

...And The Circus Leaves Town is, unfortunately, Kyuss' last record -- especially if you ask Josh Homme. Fortunately for us, it's their best. Ever eat chicken? Well, because this is pure Grade A beef. Homme's guitar rumblings have never tasted so meaty what with his propensity for detuning, bass amplification and creating the most memorable riff he can think of. Did this guy study Ron Asheton licks? The enormity of delicious riffage is all over this record; from the fuzz-tone thumpery of "Hurricane" and "One Inch Man," the precious psychedelic guitar warblings of the atmospheric "Phototropic" (my personal fave) to the heavy sludgefest that is "Glorious Lewis," the loose bluesy jam of "El Rodeo" with its splendid opening guitar line, or perhaps the heavy wah wah-tinged "Jumbo Blimp Jumbo" or the delicate, layered guitar melodies in "Catamaran" -- this album is fantastic. The only song that doesn't touch me is "Size Queen." Any stoners from the 70s who've broken their needles on the classics of yore while pining for something new and incredible can start here, because these guys are the real deal. No frills, all balls, modern-day rock as it should have been, but never was because capitalism favors better marketing than better musicianship. All in all, there's nothing to lose with this one, or for Blues For The Red Sun or Welcome To Sky Valley (two other great albums), for that matter. A nod of thanks to Master Cianan for this one, who knew I liked the Queens. Oh, and "Tangy Zizzle" rules, too: "Yeaaaaaah, yeah, put it in gear baby. Hell yeah, that's what I like about you baby; you're always on time." B+

King Crimson - Red (1974)

At a modest forty minutes, the five songs that make up Red seem more or less like a pluterperfect distillation of what these fellows were probably feeling leading up to their break-up. Color psychology aside, you certainly don't need to see anything to hear the aggression. A touch of violin here, a bit of brass there, but otherwise this album is a proverbial "heavy" -- which is nice that they didn't end their 70s heyday with a whimper. This stuff is prime beef, for sure, and my second favorite King Crimson album.

Let's begin with the only problem: "Providence." Unfortunately, it's a mindless bit of noodling for my taste. Understandably, it's easy for an unaccomplished musician such as yours truly to be awash in the vile taint of abject criticism; but I plead ignorance on eight minutes of random violin streaks and what appears to be an afternoon jam session after a plate of crumpets. I'd tell Robert Fripp personally. "Red," is a visceral instrumental that evokes quite the opposite of tenderness and gives ample reason why; "Fallen Angel" alternates between acoustic and electric guitar and so switches from particularly heavy bombastic flourishes with accompanied brass to slow and melodic passages with vocals; "One More Red Nightmare" is absolutely brilliant stuff, man -- my favorite track, perhaps. I dig the sludgy arpeggiated funk, if that's an acceptable description. "Starless" is a great closer, not only to the album, but to an era -- an era wholly designed, constructed, inhabited and set unduly afire by King Crimson -- a song featuring all the elements of what made them so interesting: loose, explosive drumming, my favorite-instrument-which-is-not-the-guitar, the Mellotron, some sax, a touch of violin and vintage Frippian electric nastiness. A solid B+

The Eagles - Hotel California (1976)

Like any peculiar cultural gestation this past century, I have never understood the success of The Eagles -- that is, until their new album plopped itself down atop the charts in the US and UK like a neighborhood cat who excretes in your flower bed and fritters away when it likes. Thing is, these fellows are awfully familiar, so familiar that they've made a science out of repetition in an enterprise which is otherwise heralded more for its artistic expressions than it is for its scientific -- scratch -- marketing appeal. So when I heard about how such an album, which I have no intention of listening to this century, has been lauded for its nostalgic inanities and empty tropes, I finally realized that it's not wherein the rub lies, but who puts it there; and The Eagles, purveyors of all things blasé -- especially ballads -- have engineered the most perfectly calculated comeback by crafting a monstrous double album echoing everything everyone has ever remembered about what they liked about them. But isn't that what The Eagles - Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975) was supposed to do -- you know, sell over 40 million records? And therein lies the rub, all bespeckled in American green. Admittedly, I am not an Eagles fan -- is that not obvious? -- and I will never curry favor in classic rock circles to pose as an indulgent populist and render myself an advocate for their music. The fact is, they suck too much to expend such effort, even if artificial -- that and I refuse to supplant argument for sales statistics.

I forgot that I'm supposed to review Hotel California! Извините, unbelievable, mon Dieu! My sincerest apologies. I promise free draft beer next time -- I'll even serve up a pint of my own Guinness! Interestingly enough, despite my natural proclivity to criticize, I actually have some warm regard for Hotel California. In truth, if there were ever a time to utter the phrase -- every dog has its day -- this is it, for sure. What baffles me, though, is that these populist bums could have discovered the creative collectivist energy to produce such a magnificent song such as "Hotel California." As ubiquitous as it is everyone I imagine, let me just add that the two intertwined guitar solos that close the song are incredible. "Life In The Fast Lane" is a great road song with some tasty riffs. "The Last Resort" is potentially the most difficult song on the album, not so much musically, but because it skirts so dangerously to becoming campy; I feel like Don Henley means what he's singing, and that's fine by me because it's a great song. Otherwise, ho-hum, "Victim Of Love" is decent, but that's about where my generosity ends. I still find placing "Wasting Time (Reprise)" directly after "Wasting Time" to be incredibly stupid as well. Whatever, I'll be receiving angry e-mails from this anyway. Bring it on. C+

T-Rex - Electric Warrior (1971)

Marc Bolan is said to have contributed more to the essence of glam rock than Bowie; whether such an inherently useless platitude can ever be proven is really secondary to the fact that Electric Warrior was certainly an important album at the time. If I were to describe the album using only one word, such a word would be "misleading." There's a certain casual frankness and feel to the singing and playing in just about every place on this record -- which is not to say it's lazy or laid-back, but that it exerts itself in such a fashion as to shed any predispositions of concern -- seemingly. Such a casual feeling does not denote a lack substance, though, because while the album does refashion older musical styles and whose entrance into our ears appears welcoming, this is not actually the case, as Bolan's vocal tones and lyrics indicate a much more savage mockery than a simple regurgitation of older styles and moods. Perhaps his previous work with fairies provides us with the wherewithal to make such erroneous assumptions.

Regardless, for those without such concerns for what music means, or expresses, and could care a whit for this or that, let's get under the hood, shall we? "Mambo Sun" opens the album, a delicate little mid-tempo romper with some very nuanced guitar licks. Much of the album, in fact, is not typical 70s guitar-heavy, to include the burgeoning glam movement the album was to help foster, and instead relies more on the guitar notes being in just the right places. This, of course, is in deep contrast with the fill-as-many-notes-in-the-measure music that was quite popular at the time -- not that I'm complaining about that, either. "Bang A Gong (Get It On)" is a well-known song with a splendid (and much copied) riff, a riveting chorus and some brass to add sass. "Jeepster" is a bit of a throwback to the rock style of the 50s but with an updated swagger. "Cosmic Dancer" is a warbling string-tinged folk ditty with some great electric guitar interspersed. Other notables: "Rip Off" and "The Motivator." Forgettables: "Girl"; "Monolith"; "Planet Queen"; "Lean Woman Blues"; "Life's A Gas." B-