Bryan Adams “Shine a Light”
Almost forty years after he burst onto our radios, with a voice that humbled Rod Stewart and a style that translated Johnny Cougar into Canadian, Bryan Adams was still going strong. Arenas full of fans were shouting along to “Summer of 69” and crying along to “(All I Ever Do) I Do it For You.” He was closing in on sixty. He’d already sold a hundred million albums and topped every chart in the world. But, he still sounded exactly like himself, which is to say both like nobody else and like a hundred other guys. Naturally he looked older — more refined. His hair was richly coiffed and he’d swapped his leather jacket for a designer blazer. He’d even built a second career as a photographer — his pictures hung on gallery walls. There were only two things left for him to do: make new music with Ed Sheeran and prove to the world that “uncomplicated” is the opposite of an insult.
Lynyrd Skynyrd “God and Guns”
Some things in life are hard to talk about openly. For example, sex and money. When guys talk about sex or money, we tend to resort to cliches or jokes or hyperbole. On the other hand, it’s much easier for us to talk about music. In fact, we love to talk about music. Who are your bands? Are you a Stones guy? A Phish guy? A Blur guy? A Smiths guy? It’s organizing and safe. It’s the way we talk about our feelings, without really talking about our feelings. And it generally works for us. Except, of course, when it comes to Lynyrd Skynyrd. And especially when it comes to their 2009 album, “God & Guns,” which — to complicate matters — is absolutely not terrible. It may even be good — even when it’s being awful.
Traveling Wilburys “Traveling Wilburys Vol. 3”
The Traveling Wilburys were a “Supergroup” in name only. In reality, they were just a casual hang among middle-aged friends and admirers, who also happened to be Rock royalty. In 1988, they looked like half of an over forty, softball team from the Hollywood Hills — bad hair, extra paunch and beers after the game. The Wilburys’ debut is appropriately remembered for its easy going harmonies, for a couple of endearing hits and, sadly, for Roy Orbison’s passing. Many years later, it survives as a celebration (and commercialization) of “Past Prime.” History has mostly forgotten, however, that there was a follow-up album, complete with a bad “dad joke” for a title.
Golden Earring “Keeper of the Flame”
Rock and Roll is littered with one hit wonders and spectacular flame outs. But Golden Earring were neither of those things. They had two, massive hit singles, both of which have oddly endured as canon. Decades after their prime, they were still superstars at home, in The Benelux, where their faces adorned postage stamps. But, as far as I knew, they had disappeared around 1983, soon after “Twilight Zone,” the four minute MTV mystery that altered my young life. What happened? Where had they gone? It all had a whiff of semi-Nordic true crime. Information was scant, especially in The U.S., where Golden Earring were the coldest of cold case files.
“Far From Over” (Frank Stallone) vs “All I’m Think’ About” (Bruce Springsteen)
In the early 70s, a million to one shot from the swamps of Jersey emerged as the “next Dylan.” Around that same time, less than a hundred miles away, a lesser known songwriter was fiddling with a keyboard, dreaming of the day that his older brother would include his music in the ultimate underdog movie. These two long shots, so near to each other but so completely divergent, demanded comparison. We pitted the nasal falsetto of Bruce Springsteen’s “All I’m Think’ About” from 2005 against Frank Stallone’s epic, 1983 Jazzercise jingle “Far From Over.” Who wins — The Boss phoning it in past his prime or the critically derided brother of Rocky during his graciously brief prime?
“Two Princes” (Spin Doctors) vs “Remedy” (The Band)
In 1993, The Spin Doctors gave MTV the winter hat plus hacky sack vibes the network sorely needed. Their unavoidable mega-hit, “Two Princes,” topped the charts and introduced Jam Band culture to the suburbs. Meanwhile, that same year, The Band reformed without frontman Robbie Robertson to make “Jericho.” One of the few originals from that album was “Remedy,” which charted nowhere and is remembered only by the most loyal of devotees. So, here’s the question: What’s better — an unforgettable song by a critically derided band in their prime or an unexceptional one from a beloved artist well past their prime?
KISS “Psycho Circus”
As success stories go, Kiss’ is perhaps the most unconventional. They’ve had thirty Gold albums, more than any band before or since. A 1977 Gallup poll named them the most popular band in America. Gene Simmons is reportedly one of the twenty wealthiest living musicians. To me, however, they were barely a band. They were comic book ghouls. They were a pinball machine. They were the faces that embellished a demonic laundry bin that my mother one day deposited in my bedroom, without explanation. In 1998, having recently reunited, Kiss made it very clear: Their product was still heavy and basic. And their mission was still profit.
Allman Brothers Band “Hittin' the Note”
All these years later, I don’t regret the Leftover Salmon jokes or the Disco Biscuits cheap shots. For decades I used the term “Jam Band” pejoratively. It was hypocritical, to say the least. Bands that I loved — Television, Yo La Tengo, The Feelies — loved to jam. But, it was obviously not the same thing. They weren’t “Jam Bands.” And so, I simply would not apologize for my snark. The one thing I did regret, though -- the thing that has gnawed at me since I was a teen -- was the fact that I never gave the Allman Brothers Band a fair shake.
The Moody Blues “Strange Times”
Although they are considered pioneers of both Psychedelic and Progressive Rock, The Moody Blues always sort of defied classification. Their music frequently sounded either too slow or too fast. They were once Classical in Modern times. Then, they were the oldest of the New Wave. In 1999, after an eight year hiatus, they returned to the world of Limp Bizkit and The Backstreet Boys. And, as always, they seemed both timeless and time-less.
Eddie Money “Ready Eddie”
If you really understand Long Island, you know that it isn’t Billy Joel country or Lou Reed country or Mariah Carey country or Bernie Madoff country. It’s Eddie Money country. Money was the one hit wonder who, from 1977 to 1988, just couldn’t stop making hits. He was the guy who sang “Two Tickets to Paradise.” He was Bruce Springsteen with two sides of ham and half as much talent. He was the “King of Generic Rock” who, in 1999, finally realized that “generic” also meant “easily replaceable.”
The Who “WHO”
During their 2010 Super Bowl performance, without ever saying as much, The Who confirmed what we had suspected for years. They were done. Keith and John were dead. Pete was in his mid-sixties and Roger Daltrey was a year older and could no longer sing. There was simply no coming back. But, in 2019, through a combination of medical innovation and radical kindness, The Who returned.
Graham Parker “Struck by Lightning”
Of that class of 70s Pub Rockers, Graham Parker was once considered the surest of sure things. He was it -- both the next big thing and the through line between Van Morrison and Bob Dylan. But, in time, something amazing happened. Graham Parker did not happen. And by 1991, we found him, without The Rumour, at the end of his major label run, trying to choose between passion and professionalism.
ELO “Zoom”
Jeff Lynne was always too furry to be Glam, too Pop to be Prog and too Disco to Rock. But he was daring enough to wonder what lies in the valley between The Beatles and Disco. The answer, of course, was Electric Light Orchestra, the band that gave America the sound that it desperately wanted. That is, until they wanted none of it.
CSNY “American Dream”
CSNY arrived in 1969, at the very moment when the Hippie promise was at stake. Would their generation’s legacy be the end of Vietnam and the birth of Civil Rights? Or would it be Altamont, Manson and a two decade hangover? CSNY represented a generation holding its breathe before sunset. That sun finally set on November 1, 1988 with the release of “American Dream,” the long awaited, second studio album from Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.
King Crimson “The Power to Believe”
Following their quirky, Belew-ish permutation in the 80s, King Crimson was reborn a decade later — harsher and, amazingly, more obtuse. As a casual listener, their final run from 1995 to 2003 sounds like music made for consideration rather than enjoyment. Nonetheless, I put my thinking cap on and tried my best with all of the albums from that period. And this arduous seeking led me to 2003’s “The Power to Believe,” Crimson’s final studio album (to date). If I was ever going to find meaning in King Crimson, surely it would be there — in Fripp’s closing statement. It simply had to be there.
Aerosmith “Music from Another Dimension”
In the 1990s, Aerosmith transformed from almost has-beens to American Rock gods to, eventually, international superstars; all on account of their skyscraping ballads. However, following 2001’s “Just Push Play” and a Super Bowl halftime victory lap, it appeared that the years of baggage had them buckling under the weight. There would be no new music for a decade. But, eventually, the unkillable band lumbered into a studio in the summer of 2011 to record “Music from Another Dimension.”
Dire Straits “On Every Street”
Dire Straits started as an anomaly. They were New Wave in design but more Folk and Country in engineering. They had a singer who couldn’t sing but who sounded great, and who also happened to also be a hell of a guitarist. For years, they achieved great success, without the trappings of fame. And all of this was well and good until 1985, when Dire Straits accidentally became the biggest Rock band in the world. Three years later, Mark Knopfler put Dire Straits on the shelf only to then, reluctantly, come back for one final album. It’s unclear whether the reformation was born out of affection or loyalty or inertia. But, whatever it was, Knopfler felt that there was unfinished business.
Jethro Tull “J-Tull Dot Com”
In the 90s, as Ian Anderson’s voice and body began to suffer, one could hear Jethro Tull slowing down. The albums were still ambitious and flute-filled and warmly received by Progressive Rock fans, but they were also less frequent. And, as time passed, Anderson’s voice no longer growled. Rather, it politely narrated the spaces in between his gymnastic melodies. The end of the Renaissance Fair came in 1999, with “J-Tull Dot Com.” a nominally conceptual album slash website advertisement that is just barely better than its title suggests.
Boston “Walk On”
Like the great Patriots teams of the twenty first century, Boston, the band, had a “next man up” ethos. Guitarist, producer and mastermind Tom Scholz had his system. No man, not even lead singer Brad Delp, was irreplaceable. But Scholz platinum selling system was tested in 1994’s “Walk On.” Could they still be great without Delp? Moreover, in a world that passed them over in favor of Alternative Rock and Hip Hop, could Boston even be relevant in 1994? The cover of “Walk On,” on which the famous Boston spaceship crashes into some uninhabited planet, seemed to portend disaster ahead.
Guns N’ Roses “Chinese Democracy”
The history of “Chinese Democracy” is both exceedingly well-documented and a mystery that resides only inside the Alx Rose’s mind. Almost everything I have read about the album, I receive suspiciously, assuming it’s less than half truth. And yet, I kind of believe all of it. It is a story so complex and bombastic that it is a wonder it has not yet been made into a film. It might, in fact, be a story too sprawling and epic for film. Unless, that is, Michael Bay is at the helm. “Chinese Democracy” could make “Armageddon” seem as darling and contained as a Wes Anderson movie.