Many artists have been accused of following a certain formula throughout their career - Album A sounds just like album B, which is remarkably similar to Album C.
Others have shifted gears periodically, coming up with fresh sounds that don't necessarily appeal to their fans, but show that they have no desire to get stuck in a rut. Neil Young and David Bowie immediately come to mind, although they've gone so far afield at certain points that certain works of theirs must be considered as anomalies.
Speaking of anomalies, here's a list of albums that represent radical departures, and as such should be considered as interesting (if not favorite) listening. Let's go in reverse chronological order on this one:
- The Flaming Lips, "Zaireeka" (1997). Yes, I do know of some music recorded after 1979. This aural experiment, the brainstorm of head Lip Wayne Coyne, involved recording different tracks of the same song spread out over four compact discs, with the intent of allowing groups of listeners to play each tune in an endless array of mixes, provided they have four separate CD players. Needless to say, that's a tall task. My solution to hearing the album as a whole was to use digital recording software to combine all four CDs' worth of each song onto single tracks. That's cheating, but it gives the listener a better idea of what the tunes actually should sound like.
- Dire Straits, "Love Over Gold" (1982). Not a stylistic departure from the band's first three albums, "Love Over Gold" is an anomaly for the era in which it was recorded. The album contains only five songs, most in stretched-out jams that hearken back to the late '60s and early '70s. And they work, particularly the original Side One tracks, the majestic "Telegraph Road" and the tension-filled "Private Investigations." (Dire Straits' previous album, "Making Movies," had only six songs, so that sort of qualifies here, as well.)
- Neil Young, "Trans" (1982). It's tough to single out one Neil album as being out of the ordinary. The rarely heard "Journey Through the Past" could have done just as well, or the sound collage "Arc." But "Trans" has a pretty good story behind it: Neil jumped labels from Reprise to Geffen, and for his debut with the latter delivered an album full of synthesizers instead of guitars, including him singing much of the album through something called a Vocoder. This is about as far removed as the No. 1 sound of "Heart of Gold" as he could get. Or Buffalo Springfield, for that matter - he redoes the '60s anthem "Mr. Soul" in futuristic glory. Reportedly, David Geffen was not amused.
- Richard Thompson, "Strict Tempo!" (1981). This guitarist's guitarist, who initially made his mark with U.K. folk-rock legend Fairport Convention, sounds as if he had a lot of fun recording this collection of mostly native jigs and reels, with longtime cohort Dave Mattacks providing percussion. He also does a cover of Duke Ellington's "Rockin' in Rhythm" and closes with his own "The Knife Edge," with a tone that's more in line with the doom-and-gloom theme he often explores.
- Lou Reed, "Metal Machine Music" (1975). The quirky former leader of the Velvet Underground outdid himself on this two-record release, with a title that sums up the sound to a "T." For more than an hour, you get squeals, squeaks and drones, ad infinitum. Proceed with caution, and don't ever expect to get to Side Four without reaching for the ibuprofen.
- The Band, "Moondog Matinee," and David Bowie, "Pin Ups" (1973). Two major artists decided in the same year to release albums of cover versions. In The Band's case, this represented the group's only studio album between 1971 and 1975; Bowie, on the other hand, was in the midst of a fairly prolific stretch. Both albums pay homage to certain periods: "Moondog Matinee," the '50s, with covers of artists like Chuck Berry, the Platters and Clarence "Frogman" Henry; "Pin Ups," Swinging' London of the '60s, doing the Yardbirds, Who, Kinks, Pretty Things and Syd Barrett's Pink Floyd. Both are great listens - "Moondog," in particular, qualifies as my favorite Band album, up there with its contributions with Dylan to "The Basement Tapes."
- The Grateful Dead, "Bear's Choice" (1973). After the Grateful Dead bolted Warner Bros. to form its own record label, the boys from Burbank issued this curiosity, subtitled "History of the Grateful Dead: Vol. 1," but it just as well could have been called "The Pigpen Memorial" after founding member Ron McKernan, who had passed away previously in the year. More than half the album features Pigpen's inimitable vocals, including his solo acoustic guitar showcase, "Katie Mae," and rabble-rousin' cover of Otis Redding's "Hard to Handle." The rest of "Bear's Choice" ("Bear" was the nickname of Owsley Stanley, who recorded these shows at the Fillmore East in February 1970) features Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir playing acoustic guitars, which always was a real treat for Deadheads. The sole Dead original on the album is a lengthy "Black Peter," predating its release on the immortal "Workingman's Dead" later in '70.
- Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Mardi Gras" (1972). After one of the most incredible three-year runs in rock music history, CCR experienced its first lineup change when John Fogerty's brother Tom bailed out, claiming a lack of creative input into the band. The remaining trio, with bassist Stu Cook and Doug Clifford, agreed to divide the songwriting duties on the next album. The result was the brief, bizarre "Mardi Gras": three tunes penned by each, plus a cover of the Everly Brothers' "Hello, Mary Lou." John's songs were of his usual high quality, particulary the haunting "Someday Never Comes." The contributions by Stu and Doug showed why John thought it best to maintain creative control. Not surprisingly, this marked the end of the road for one of America's greatest bands.
- Spooky Tooth, "Ceremony" (1970). This British band (with token Yankee Gary Wright) got a decent reception and sales over here with its sophomore effort, "Spooky Two." For its third album, the band decided to combine forces with a French composer of experimental music named Pierre Henry. The title apparently refers to some type of religious "Ceremony," as titles like "Confession," "Prayer" and "Hosanna" would indicate. Although the Tooth went on to have some cult-favorite success - I particulary like their 1973 release "You Broke My Heart So I Busted Your Jaw" - the left-field sojourn of "Ceremony" wasn't exactly a canny career move. Speaking of careers, Wright had a brief time in the limelight as a solo artist with his spacey 1975 offering "The Dream Weaver."
- The Electric Prunes, "Mass in F minor" (1968). Spooky Tooth's foray into quasi-religious territory actually was preceded a couple of years by this album, from a band that is best known for its inclusion on the various "Nuggets" anthologies. The "Mass" actually was a collaboration with composer David Axelrod, at the behest of band producer Dave Hassinger (who also produced the first Grateful Dead album). Apparently, the Prunes themselves only played on the first side of the album, and a band called the Collectors came in to finish it, with only Prune vocalist James Lowe playing throughout. Clocking in at well under half an hour, the "Mass" is a hodgepodge of Latin chants, orchestral blasts and fuzz-tone electric guitar. That being said, I really enjoy and highly recommend this album! (Although my tastes never have stuck to the conventional, obviously.) The Prunes actually followed this up with a similar concept, called "Release of An Oath" - another Axelrod project, based on a Hebrew prayer this time. The "Oath," though, is the Prunes in name only, as the original band split after the experience with the "Mass." The real Electric Prunes wouldn't record another album for more than three decades, when Lowe and original members Mark Tulin and Ken Williams got back together. They've put out a few worthwhile albums since then, called "Artifact" and "California."
- The Mothers of Invention, "Cruising With Ruben and the Jets" (1968). Frank Zappa was another artist who made plenty of twists and turns throughout his quarter-century career. "Ruben" might not even have been his most offbeat, but it was a real anomaly for the time: a collection of '50s-style doo-wop songs (all originals by Zappa or singer Ray Collins) 10 years after the fact, at a time when that type of music was generally considered as hopelessly obsolete among hip record-buyers. The big shame of "Ruben" is that it was tampered with for its CD release, with an '80s-type rhythm section beefing up the original tracks. That's a shame, as the lo-fi approach on the original (especially Jimmy Carl Black's minimalist drumming, which sounds kind of like banging on trash-can lids) help make the motif sound all the more that authentic. Oh, well. These ditties are enjoyable in any form, especially Frank's killer guitar solo to end it all, so to speak, on the album's closer, "Stuff Up the Cracks."
- Jefferson Airplane, "After Bathing at Baxter's" (1967). Airplane biographer Jeff Tamarkin calls this possibly the first album recorded with no thought whatsoever as to whether anyone actually was going to buy it. Band members, coming off huge hits with the "Surrealistic Pillow" album and "Somebody to Love" and "White Rabbit" singles, camped out in the studio for months on end, seeing what kind of weirdness would develop. The result is what you might expect. Grace Slick, for example, follows her top 10 showings with songs called "rejoice" (as in James Joyce) and "Two Heads." Drummer Spencer Dryden contributes a sound collage that sounds like a Mothers of Invention outtake (Zappa was his idol). Paul Kantner sings about stuff like "acid, incense and balloons." Lead guitarist Jorma Kaukonen and bassist Jack Casady join forces with Dryden for a 10-minute improvisation. And guiding voice Marty Balin is reduced to half a songwriting credit. Yet it all adds up to my favorite studio Airplane album, ranking just behind the live "Bless Its Pointed Little Head."
- The Rolling Stones, "Her Satanic Majesties Request" (1967). The mother of all anomalies, this effort is dismissed as the Stones trying to keep up with the Joneses (actually, the Beatles) by forsaking their blues roots to dabble in psychedelia. True, the lysergic direction wasn't exactly the Stones' forte - witness the incoherent ramblings of "Sing This All Together" (See What Happens)" - but there are plenty of memorable tunes here, including "Citadel," "She's a Rainbow," "2000 Light Years from Home" and Bill Wyman's "In Another Land," on which he actually was backed by members of the Small Faces. The poor reception for "Satanic" might have worked in the Stones' favor, as they worked hard to quiet the naysayers and came up with four absolute classic albums in the next five years: "Beggars Banquet," "Let It Bleed," "Sticky Fingers" and "Exile On Main Street."
That's how to keep up with the Joneses.
Others have shifted gears periodically, coming up with fresh sounds that don't necessarily appeal to their fans, but show that they have no desire to get stuck in a rut. Neil Young and David Bowie immediately come to mind, although they've gone so far afield at certain points that certain works of theirs must be considered as anomalies.
Speaking of anomalies, here's a list of albums that represent radical departures, and as such should be considered as interesting (if not favorite) listening. Let's go in reverse chronological order on this one:
- The Flaming Lips, "Zaireeka" (1997). Yes, I do know of some music recorded after 1979. This aural experiment, the brainstorm of head Lip Wayne Coyne, involved recording different tracks of the same song spread out over four compact discs, with the intent of allowing groups of listeners to play each tune in an endless array of mixes, provided they have four separate CD players. Needless to say, that's a tall task. My solution to hearing the album as a whole was to use digital recording software to combine all four CDs' worth of each song onto single tracks. That's cheating, but it gives the listener a better idea of what the tunes actually should sound like.
- Dire Straits, "Love Over Gold" (1982). Not a stylistic departure from the band's first three albums, "Love Over Gold" is an anomaly for the era in which it was recorded. The album contains only five songs, most in stretched-out jams that hearken back to the late '60s and early '70s. And they work, particularly the original Side One tracks, the majestic "Telegraph Road" and the tension-filled "Private Investigations." (Dire Straits' previous album, "Making Movies," had only six songs, so that sort of qualifies here, as well.)
- Neil Young, "Trans" (1982). It's tough to single out one Neil album as being out of the ordinary. The rarely heard "Journey Through the Past" could have done just as well, or the sound collage "Arc." But "Trans" has a pretty good story behind it: Neil jumped labels from Reprise to Geffen, and for his debut with the latter delivered an album full of synthesizers instead of guitars, including him singing much of the album through something called a Vocoder. This is about as far removed as the No. 1 sound of "Heart of Gold" as he could get. Or Buffalo Springfield, for that matter - he redoes the '60s anthem "Mr. Soul" in futuristic glory. Reportedly, David Geffen was not amused.
- Richard Thompson, "Strict Tempo!" (1981). This guitarist's guitarist, who initially made his mark with U.K. folk-rock legend Fairport Convention, sounds as if he had a lot of fun recording this collection of mostly native jigs and reels, with longtime cohort Dave Mattacks providing percussion. He also does a cover of Duke Ellington's "Rockin' in Rhythm" and closes with his own "The Knife Edge," with a tone that's more in line with the doom-and-gloom theme he often explores.
- Lou Reed, "Metal Machine Music" (1975). The quirky former leader of the Velvet Underground outdid himself on this two-record release, with a title that sums up the sound to a "T." For more than an hour, you get squeals, squeaks and drones, ad infinitum. Proceed with caution, and don't ever expect to get to Side Four without reaching for the ibuprofen.
- The Band, "Moondog Matinee," and David Bowie, "Pin Ups" (1973). Two major artists decided in the same year to release albums of cover versions. In The Band's case, this represented the group's only studio album between 1971 and 1975; Bowie, on the other hand, was in the midst of a fairly prolific stretch. Both albums pay homage to certain periods: "Moondog Matinee," the '50s, with covers of artists like Chuck Berry, the Platters and Clarence "Frogman" Henry; "Pin Ups," Swinging' London of the '60s, doing the Yardbirds, Who, Kinks, Pretty Things and Syd Barrett's Pink Floyd. Both are great listens - "Moondog," in particular, qualifies as my favorite Band album, up there with its contributions with Dylan to "The Basement Tapes."
- The Grateful Dead, "Bear's Choice" (1973). After the Grateful Dead bolted Warner Bros. to form its own record label, the boys from Burbank issued this curiosity, subtitled "History of the Grateful Dead: Vol. 1," but it just as well could have been called "The Pigpen Memorial" after founding member Ron McKernan, who had passed away previously in the year. More than half the album features Pigpen's inimitable vocals, including his solo acoustic guitar showcase, "Katie Mae," and rabble-rousin' cover of Otis Redding's "Hard to Handle." The rest of "Bear's Choice" ("Bear" was the nickname of Owsley Stanley, who recorded these shows at the Fillmore East in February 1970) features Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir playing acoustic guitars, which always was a real treat for Deadheads. The sole Dead original on the album is a lengthy "Black Peter," predating its release on the immortal "Workingman's Dead" later in '70.
- Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Mardi Gras" (1972). After one of the most incredible three-year runs in rock music history, CCR experienced its first lineup change when John Fogerty's brother Tom bailed out, claiming a lack of creative input into the band. The remaining trio, with bassist Stu Cook and Doug Clifford, agreed to divide the songwriting duties on the next album. The result was the brief, bizarre "Mardi Gras": three tunes penned by each, plus a cover of the Everly Brothers' "Hello, Mary Lou." John's songs were of his usual high quality, particulary the haunting "Someday Never Comes." The contributions by Stu and Doug showed why John thought it best to maintain creative control. Not surprisingly, this marked the end of the road for one of America's greatest bands.
- Spooky Tooth, "Ceremony" (1970). This British band (with token Yankee Gary Wright) got a decent reception and sales over here with its sophomore effort, "Spooky Two." For its third album, the band decided to combine forces with a French composer of experimental music named Pierre Henry. The title apparently refers to some type of religious "Ceremony," as titles like "Confession," "Prayer" and "Hosanna" would indicate. Although the Tooth went on to have some cult-favorite success - I particulary like their 1973 release "You Broke My Heart So I Busted Your Jaw" - the left-field sojourn of "Ceremony" wasn't exactly a canny career move. Speaking of careers, Wright had a brief time in the limelight as a solo artist with his spacey 1975 offering "The Dream Weaver."
- The Electric Prunes, "Mass in F minor" (1968). Spooky Tooth's foray into quasi-religious territory actually was preceded a couple of years by this album, from a band that is best known for its inclusion on the various "Nuggets" anthologies. The "Mass" actually was a collaboration with composer David Axelrod, at the behest of band producer Dave Hassinger (who also produced the first Grateful Dead album). Apparently, the Prunes themselves only played on the first side of the album, and a band called the Collectors came in to finish it, with only Prune vocalist James Lowe playing throughout. Clocking in at well under half an hour, the "Mass" is a hodgepodge of Latin chants, orchestral blasts and fuzz-tone electric guitar. That being said, I really enjoy and highly recommend this album! (Although my tastes never have stuck to the conventional, obviously.) The Prunes actually followed this up with a similar concept, called "Release of An Oath" - another Axelrod project, based on a Hebrew prayer this time. The "Oath," though, is the Prunes in name only, as the original band split after the experience with the "Mass." The real Electric Prunes wouldn't record another album for more than three decades, when Lowe and original members Mark Tulin and Ken Williams got back together. They've put out a few worthwhile albums since then, called "Artifact" and "California."
- The Mothers of Invention, "Cruising With Ruben and the Jets" (1968). Frank Zappa was another artist who made plenty of twists and turns throughout his quarter-century career. "Ruben" might not even have been his most offbeat, but it was a real anomaly for the time: a collection of '50s-style doo-wop songs (all originals by Zappa or singer Ray Collins) 10 years after the fact, at a time when that type of music was generally considered as hopelessly obsolete among hip record-buyers. The big shame of "Ruben" is that it was tampered with for its CD release, with an '80s-type rhythm section beefing up the original tracks. That's a shame, as the lo-fi approach on the original (especially Jimmy Carl Black's minimalist drumming, which sounds kind of like banging on trash-can lids) help make the motif sound all the more that authentic. Oh, well. These ditties are enjoyable in any form, especially Frank's killer guitar solo to end it all, so to speak, on the album's closer, "Stuff Up the Cracks."
- Jefferson Airplane, "After Bathing at Baxter's" (1967). Airplane biographer Jeff Tamarkin calls this possibly the first album recorded with no thought whatsoever as to whether anyone actually was going to buy it. Band members, coming off huge hits with the "Surrealistic Pillow" album and "Somebody to Love" and "White Rabbit" singles, camped out in the studio for months on end, seeing what kind of weirdness would develop. The result is what you might expect. Grace Slick, for example, follows her top 10 showings with songs called "rejoice" (as in James Joyce) and "Two Heads." Drummer Spencer Dryden contributes a sound collage that sounds like a Mothers of Invention outtake (Zappa was his idol). Paul Kantner sings about stuff like "acid, incense and balloons." Lead guitarist Jorma Kaukonen and bassist Jack Casady join forces with Dryden for a 10-minute improvisation. And guiding voice Marty Balin is reduced to half a songwriting credit. Yet it all adds up to my favorite studio Airplane album, ranking just behind the live "Bless Its Pointed Little Head."
- The Rolling Stones, "Her Satanic Majesties Request" (1967). The mother of all anomalies, this effort is dismissed as the Stones trying to keep up with the Joneses (actually, the Beatles) by forsaking their blues roots to dabble in psychedelia. True, the lysergic direction wasn't exactly the Stones' forte - witness the incoherent ramblings of "Sing This All Together" (See What Happens)" - but there are plenty of memorable tunes here, including "Citadel," "She's a Rainbow," "2000 Light Years from Home" and Bill Wyman's "In Another Land," on which he actually was backed by members of the Small Faces. The poor reception for "Satanic" might have worked in the Stones' favor, as they worked hard to quiet the naysayers and came up with four absolute classic albums in the next five years: "Beggars Banquet," "Let It Bleed," "Sticky Fingers" and "Exile On Main Street."
That's how to keep up with the Joneses.
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