Nick Lowe “The Impossible Bird”
Once upon a time, Nick Lowe was the guy. He was New Wave’s beloved everyman — cool, but accessible. You might find him at the pub, you might find him on the Pop charts or you might find him in the studio with Elvis Costello. He married Carlene Carter and dated Lois Lane. To drop his name was to confirm your own hipness. By the early nineties, however, his time had come and gone. He was single, hitless, without a label and at the bottom of a pint glass. Amazingly, and with a little help from Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston, he dusted himself off and found a second act, functionally birthing his own genre of music in the process. Part Roots, part Country, part Rockabilly, and part Pop, the former mop-topped hipster became the white-haired songbird for discerning grown ups.
Darius Rucker “Learn to Live”
For over a decade, Hootie and the Blowfish were the butt of jokes — a 90s cliche nested between bad Gap sweaters and Sugar Ray. The probability of the backlash, however, was only surpassed by the improbability of Darius Rucker’s reemergence in Nashville in 2008. While his reign as the most successful Black musician in Country music now appears obvious, it was once, briefly, the object of cynical eyebrow raises. Taken together -- the backlash and the genre hop -- Rucker’s career resembles that of the Bee Gees and Ray Charles. He’s not the writer that Barry Gibb was and he’s not a sliver of Ray. But, also, he’s not Shania Twain or Mark McGrath or Rob Thomas. And he’s definitely not Hootie. He’s Darius Rucker, Country Music Star.
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.
Duncan Sheik “Legerdemain”
In the mid-90s, after the crater of Alt Rock, a softer, lighter second wave followed, delivering Bubble-Grunge to Middle America. Though nominally inspired by their predecessors, Goo Goo Dolls and Matchbox 20 steered closer to the middle of the road than to its edges. It was during this flaccid period that Duncan Sheik appeared on the scene — similarly strummy, but better educated and mopier. His fans were certain that a nascent Nick Drake (or at least a Grammy) lurked inside Sheik. However, booze and pity partying ensured otherwise. That was, until 2006, when he wrote the music for “Spring Awakening,” an unexpected Broadway hit. It was not “Pink Moon,” but it was a narrative change. Nearly ten tears later, in middle-age, Duncan Sheik checked into rehab, got himself a blog and — against all odds — made the excellent record his college buddies had always hoped for.
Joe Jackson “Fast Forward”
You think you know a guy. He’s a jazzy New Wave Pop star. A classically trained pianist. A peer of Elvis Costello, who made it, and Graham Parker, who almost made it. As a young man, he made a couple of hit records that have held up. And then, in the mid-80s, he took the other road. For two decades, he scored films, paid tribute to his heroes and composed music for grad students. When he returned, many years later, he appeared startlingly different — all black clothes and a powder white face and hair. In middle age, Joe Jackson’s passion was still genre-defying music, but also, and maybe more so, libertarianism.
“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?
Beck “Hyperspace”
Since we finally met Beck, the grown up man, on “Sea Change,” a lot has happened: He got married. He had two children. He got divorced. He released seven albums -- most of them appreciated, and a couple beloved. He stayed in California. He stayed thin and pretty and a little weird. To the casual observer, he barely aged. But, with each successive album, he impressed less. There were no more “Odelays” or “Midnight Vultures.” In fact, to some fans and many critics, Beck became kind of boring. In 2002, I had firmly concluded that Beck could never be uninteresting. By 2019, however, I was less sure.
Luther Vandross “Luther Vandross”
Luther was the most polite Soul singer to have ever lived. We always knew that Al Green was grooving with euphemisms. We knew Smokey Robinson was being a little too cute. Even Michael Jackson tried to convince us that he was “Bad.” But Luther did none of those things. He was more interested in holding hands and gazing into our eyes over a candlelit dinner and a glass of Chablis. He built his career around silky vocals, a cherubic smile and good manners. But, in 2001, at the age of fifty, he lost half of his body weight, slapped expensive beats on his tracks and started to flirt like a grown up.
David Kilgour “The Far Now”
What’s it like to be a treasure, buried deep inside an island halfway around the world? What’s it like to be a semi-legend who cannot make a living doing what you are revered for? What’s it like to be a middle-aged artist who means so much to so few, but absolutely nothing to so many. Eventually, David Kilgour, the darling, Kiwi uncle of Indie Rock, gave up worrying about these sorts of things. “The Far Now” is his exhale — the sound of sunrise and sunset.
Waylon Jennings “A Man Called Hoss”
In 1987, off drugs, but stuck with a six pack a day habit, Waylon decided to make an “audio biography.” That lovable, but lightweight album was more like a Disney amusement park ride than the proper autobiography he would finally write ten years later. Taken together, though, they taught me what I needed to know about Waylon Jennings. That he wasn’t just an outlaw. Wasn’t just the guy who played bass for Buddy Holly. Wasn’t just a Highwayman. He was all those things. But, most of all, he was the guy with the perfect Country voice who screwed it all up, so that he could make it all right again.
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.”
John Prine “Lost Dogs and Mixed Blessings”
We all knew he wasn’t going to be the “Next Dylan” (they never are). He wasn’t pretty enough to be Johnny Cougar. And he was too good to simply gut it out on Music Row. But John Prine never really went away. He just sort of stood in place waiting for us to circle back. That happened in 1991 when Petty, Bruce and friends helped celebrate the great comeback of an artist who hadn’t gone missing. Four years, a marriage and two kids later — Prine wondered: where do you go after you’ve just come back?
Neil Diamond “Heartlight”
Although it was not apparent at the time, Neil Diamond was on the verge of a slump as the 1980s approached. A sub-tectonic struggle was being waged between Neil Diamond, Contemporary Adult, and the emerging radio format known as “Adult Contemporary.” 1982, with the release of “Heartlight,” proved to be the year in which the movement swallowed its leader.
Glenn Frey “Strange Weather”
Glenn Frey served as the C.E.O. of The Eagles. While his fingerprints are everywhere, however, the band’s best songs were written by others and sung by Don Henley. Frey was the team’s general manager — he did the dirty work — while Henley was its preternatural talent. And Frey was good at his job. It came naturally to him. He had charisma. He played good enough rhythm guitar. He could play some keys. His voice was better than adequate. But, more than anything, Glenn Frey knew how to work with Don Henley. Until he didn’t.
Miles Davis “Jack Johnson”
Recorded less than six months after “Bitches Brew,” “Jack Johnson” is as much a tribute to Betty Mabry, Davis’ former wife and muse, as it is to the titular heavyweight champ. Mabry was a Free Funk pioneer, and friend of Jimi Hendrix and Sly Stone. With his increased interest in Mabry, came Miles’ increased interest in electric instruments, in general, and distortion and Funk, in particular. Experimental music and progressive politics, however, represent roughly half of the ingredients in “Jack Johnson’s” potion. The other half of the is made up of the sweat of legendary boxers and, of course, cocaine.
David Byrne “Grown Backwards”
When the Talking Heads split up, David Byrne went on to a long but never as commercially successful solo career. In the Talking Heads he was always very much the center of the band, selling the show. But, alone, he could never sell himself quite as well. If the music of “Talking Heads ‘77” is the music of a man alone in his neurosis, “Grown Backwards” is the music of a married man with children. You might not expect the person who had a “Fear of Music” to write a lovely song called “The Man Who Loved Beer,” but, in fact, he did.
Bonnie “Prince” Billy “Wolfroy Goes to Town”
In the years after his beloved “I See a Darkness,’ Will Oldham aged comfortably into his Bonnie character. Each year, we would get a new album. We wouldn’t know when it would arrive or what it might sound like, much less what it meant. But it would come. And it would generally be excellent. And then something similar, but different, would happen the next year. Behind Oldham’s warble there was Cheyenne Mize. Then, Ashley Webber. And then, in 2011, on “Wolfroy Goes to Town,” it was the great Angel Olsen.
(Yusuf) Cat Stevens “The Laughing Apple”
There has never been another Pop star who went away for twenty eight years and then returned. Obviously, Cat Stevens didn’t really go away. During his absence from popular music, Yusuf Islam was always looking for that road back. And, in 2016, he found the bridge. He reunited with his closest 1970s collaborators and announced that he would release a new album under the name “Yusuf / Cat Stevens.” As hedged as it looks on the page, it was received as a full throated return for his long suffering fans.
Jerry Lee Lewis “Killer Country”
Starting in 1968, following a decade in polygamy exile, Jerry Lee Lewis made a very successful, very straight Country music turn. For over a decade he was a reliable hit maker alongside Merle and Dolly. In 1982, he’d be under suspicion for killing his fourth wife. In 1984, he would be tried for tax evasion (he was found innocent). And, in 1988, he declared personal bankruptcy. But, between 1979 and 1980, in a third career peak, Jerry Lee Lewis cut three excellent, if overlooked, albums, including “Killer Country.”
Keith Richards “Talk is Cheap”
Tired of the drama and unqualified for any other career, in 1987 Keith Richards did the previously unthinkable. He stepped out as a solo artist and frontman. His main collaborator was virtuoso drummer, Steve Jordan. The other players, including Ivan Neville, Waddy Wachtel, Charley Drayton and Sarah Dash, came to be known as The X-pensive Winos. The Winos often sound like an ace Free Jazz band playing with mis-assembled Rolling Stones’ parts. To this day, there is still no band in the world that sounds like them.