Review: 'A Disturbance in the Force: How and Why the Star Wars Holiday Special Happened'

For years, it seemed like some sort of weird dream. Yet I could remember every detail of staying up late at the age of four at my grandmother's house to watch the first piece of Star Wars visual entertainment since Star Wars. I could remember sitting right in front of the screen in a wood paneled den and the names of every member of Chewbacca's family and their UFO-shaped house in the trees and dozing off while struggling to remain awake and the creepy sensation of listening to Princess Leia sing that gross song. If my grandma and I hadn't spent the next few years laughing over the names "Lumpy" and "Itchy," I might have concluded that none of it had really happened, because there was no Internet to remind us that The Star Wars Holiday Special really did air on November 17, 1978, on CBS. George Lucas certainly wasn't going to remind us. 

Now remembered as the most heinous mistake ever made in the name of Star Wars, the infamous Holiday Special eventually slipped past Lucas's embargo to surface on bootleg VHS tapes, and it can now be enjoyed by anyone with YouTube access. Who would have thought that it would one day be easier to watch the Holiday Special than the theatrical version of Star Wars that caused millions to fall in love with the franchise? What a world we live in.

And, really, why would anyone but the most humorless basement dweller want to live in a world without The Star Wars Holiday Special? Where else can you see Boba Fett's debut as a duplicitous cartoon character? Where else can you see Mark Hamill with a year's supply of free Mary Kay samples caked on his face? Where else can you see Bea Arthur do an arhythmic two-step with Walrus Man? Where else can you see Chewbacca's dad get off to proto-Internet porn? Where else can you see the worst of seventies variety TV collide with the best of seventies blockbuster entertainment? Honestly, if you can't find any pleasure in at least knowing this travesty exists, you might not be worth knowing. And I'd rather watch The Star Wars Holiday Special than The Phantom Menace any day.

Would Steve Kozak? Considering that the network-television veteran both made a documentary and wrote a book about this topic, I'd like to think he would. He certainly affords it unprecedented attention in A Disturbance in the Force: How and Why the Star Wars Holiday Special Happened. 

Kozak also wastes no time in defining the thing that he believes motivated Lucas to plunge his precious space baby in the tacky waters of seventies variety TV: spite. That shouldn't be too much of a revelation since Lucas has always seemed to consume heaping bowlfuls of spite as if they were the breakfast of champions. It's certainly why we're not allowed to legally watch a high-quality copy of the theatrical version of Star Wars anymore. 

The ins and outs of this spite tale are fascinating. The object of Lucas's ire was a Warner Bros executive who not only demanded that the director's first film, THX-1138, be edited drastically but also attempted to get Lucas to agree to a rerelease of that film in the midst of Star Wars' success by arguing that the current phenomenon would fade from the public's consciousness as quickly as it took command. Lucas believed that the Holiday Special would prolong interest in Star Wars and prove that guy from WB wrong. Whoops!

There are also a lot of non-theoretical genuine revelations in A Disturbance in the Force, because Kozak leaves no asteroid unturned while exploring what you might assume to be a limited topic. It ain't! This is not only the story of how one guy's grudge begat a deathless nugget of televisual poop. It's also a tale of hazardous video shoots, drug-related chaos, unfettered merchandising, unstable leadership, stormtroopers suffering panic attacks, and--almost-- human/wookiee interspecies marriage. We learn everything there is to know about the unveiling of Boba Fett, what Bea Arthur and Jim Morrison have in common, why Hamill is so excessively made up, and why Grace Slick was a no-show during Jefferson Starship's horrid performance (drugs!), her reaction to that performance after Kozak asks her to watch it (bad!), and the role for which she was originally considered (proto-Internet porn!). A photo of Darth Vader choking the author of "White Rabbit" makes A Disturbance in the Force a true must-read for hardcore fans of Star Wars and Grace Slick. 

Speaking as such a fan, I'm as grateful that a book as entertaining, thorough, and weird as A Disturbance in the Force exists as I am that The Star Wars Holiday Special does. I'd much rather read it than the novelization of The Phantom Menace.

[Disclosure: A Disturbance in the Force was published by Rowman & Littlefield, which is also the publisher of my books The Who FAQ and 33 1/3 Revolutions Per Minute.]

Review: Guided by Voices' 'Live from Austin, TX'

Although I'd seen Guided by Voices live a number of times, and knew their routine pretty well, I was still shocked to see their performance on the concert series Austin City Limits in 2005. Well-known for lubricating his performances with buckets of Rolling Rock, Robert Pollard held nothing back for his public television debut. His slurring and capering and hilariously inebriated rants were not the kinds of things you usually saw on PBS. 

But it wouldn't have been a GBV show without the beer, and since Pollard had already announced his band's eminent breakup during a show at NYC's Bowery Ballroom (I was there!), he must have realized that he had nothing to lose. Or maybe he just had a serious drinking problem.

In any event, the Austin City Limits performance offered as much unpredictability, energy, sloppiness, and charm as any Guided by Voices performance. Hearing the full performance on New West Records' Live from Austin, TX, nearly twenty years later, I'm actually surprised that it holds up so wonderfully as a listening experience. The band's line up in 2004, when the performance was recorded, was not their most celebrated, but it was certainly one of their most professional. Not indulging nearly as much as their frontman, stalwart guitarist Doug Gillard and drummer Kevin March held everything together even as Pollard has increasing trouble enunciating and bassist Chris Slusarenko and rhythm guitarist Nate Farley start sliding off course a bit. The setlist was terrific, favoring their latest (Half Smiles of the Decomposed) and most beloved (Bee Thousand) albums but sprinkling in choice selections from most of their dozen other LPs, as well as delicious obscurities like "Dayton Ohio-19 Something and 5", "Do the Earth", and the glorious "My Impression Now". By the time Pollard introduces Gillard as "Duh Gillar" before launching into an epic rendition of "Secret Star", you know he's more than three sheets to the wind, but he's still able to hit most of those high notes in "Pendulum", carry the melody of "Tractor Rape Chain", pull off the melismas of "Buzzards and Dreadful Crows", and remember most of the words to "Fair Touching". In his own sloshy way, Bob was a pro too. 

What's less surprising is how much the fun of seeing the band live during those days floods back when listening to Live from Austin, TX today. It's also valuable as the only official live GBV album on vinyl (I would sell my old ticket stubs to get a reissue of the Live from the Wheelchair Races compilation on vinyl). Originally released on black vinyl in 2017, Live from Austin, TX is about to get a special Record Store Day release on red splatter vinyl. However, the review copy I received is the previously issued black vinyl, which sounds really good on flat, well-centered vinyl. My copy was a bit crackly from inner-sleeve residue, but that washes away. 

Review: New Editions of The Beatles' '1962-1966' and '1967-1970'

After the super deluxe edition of Revolver was released this time last year, many Beatlemaniacs believed that the next big holiday release would be a similar set devoted to Rubber Soul. Surprise! Instead we're getting new editions of the two essential Beatles compilations, 1962-1966 and 1967-1970, both of which are celebrating their fiftieth anniversary this year. An odd choice, you may think, but this release is mainly serving one very specific purpose, a job that it wouldn't make sense for a deluxe edition of Rubber Soul to do. 

You see, back in the mid-nineties, when Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr were mining rough John Lennon demos for material to spruce up and overdub for release on the Anthology compilations, they began work on a third track in addition to "Free As a Bird" and "Real Love". Then George apparently soured on "Now and Then" and didn't want to complete it. As the story goes, the Quiet One dismissed it as "rubbish." While that assessment may have been a tad harsh, the song didn't exactly scream to be heard. Like the two tracks that were completed and released, "Now and Then" is a down-tempo, down-mood song. It's more melodic than the dreary "Free As a Bird" but less appealing than the pretty and genuinely moving "Real Love". Had John written it during the days when he was coming up with ingenious stuff like "Rain", "Strawberry Fields Forever", and "Happiness Is a Warm Gun", "Now and Then" would never have found a home on a Beatles record... but it might have been worthy of a Double Fantasy or at least a Milk and Honey. 

Some three decades later, Paul decided to pick up work on "Now and Then" and coaxed Ringo along to add a new drum track for what the guys promise will be the final song "The Beatles" ever release. It's definitely a technologically impressive achievement, with John's voice sounding infinitely more natural and up front than nineties tech was able to make it sound on "Free As a Bird" and "Real Love". Giles Martin's production and Paul and Ringo's newly recorded backing are modest in keeping with a very modest composition.

So, "Now and Then" is now seeing release as a single, but it also needs a long-playing home, which is why we're getting updates of 1962-1966 and 1967-1970. Since the new song has no relationship to Rubber Soul or any other proper Beatles album, the compilations are relatively sensible vessels for its release (although a fourth Anthology, with still-unreleased things like the band version of George's "All Things Must Pass", "Mad Man", and "Watching Rainbows", would have been the dandiest). And for this occasion, the so-called "Red" and "Blue" albums are being issued in versions quite different from the 1973 ones. 

Most notable for re-mix aficionados is that none of the included tracks appear in their original mixes from the sixties. Thirty-five of the mixes are all-new. The process involved the MAL (Machine Assisted Learning) software Giles Martin used to separate instruments clumped together on a single track when he remixed Revolver. This means that for the first time ever, the original recordings of "Love Me Do" and "She Loves You" are being released in stereo, although "She Loves You" is muddier than the original mono and hearing a "Love Me Do" in which Paul's bass occupies the left speaker nearly alone for most of the song while the guitar and drums are panned pretty hard to the right is more interesting on a technological level than a listening one. Mixing 101: You gotta center the rhythm section or risk losing all your power. 

Fortunately most of the new mixes on 1962-1966 pass that particular test, and though The Beatles' arrangements tended to be pretty simple during this era, there are interesting things to discover among the remixes. "I Feel Fine", "Ticket to Ride", and "Drive My Car" feature drums both centered and spotlighted in channels, which is an unusually wide spectrum for Ringo's contribution. "A Hard Day's Night" now emphasizes some interestingly staccato rhythm guitar in the left channel. A big cymbal crash kicks "Eight Days a Week" into gear. The strings of "Yesterday" are divided between channels while Paul's voice and guitar are centered. This particular remix is superb, and really, most of the the newly remixed tracks on 1962-1966 have never sounded better in stereo. All of the 1966 tracks had already been remixed for last year's special edition of Revolver, which was a mixed bag of successful and not-so-successful remixes, though most of what's included here is well done.

1967-1970 relies much more heavily on previously released remixes, since we've already gotten deluxe editions of all the proper albums The Beatles released from 1967 to 1970. A half dozen other numbers had been remixed way back in 2015 for the 1+ compilation and are making their vinyl debuts here. The only newly remixed tracks hail from Magical Mystery Tour, Yellow Submarine, and a couple of B-sides. 

Of these, the most audaciously different is "I Am the Walrus", which really slathers on the noises that consume the end of the track. Although this remix is already stirring controversy among fans, I'm much more open to radically different remixes on a compilation like this than on a proper album, so I enjoy the novelty of it even as I continue to question the decision to nudge the rhythm section off to the left channel instead of centering it. It makes even less sense to fully shove it off to the side for something as ass-kicking as "Revolution". Lennon dismissed the original stereo mix as "ice cream" because of its wide, weakening separation, and this remix is only slightly less hard-panned. "Magical Mystery Tour", however, rocks harder with a lot of emphasis on George's previously buried Chuck Berry-esque guitar and heavier drums, though Ringo still isn't centered for some reason. Bass and drums are centered on "Hey Bulldog", which they hadn't been on the acclaimed 1999 remix on the Yellow Submarine Songtrack, so this is a nice improvement. I also dig the novelty of having "A Day in the Life" and "Dear Prudence" with clean intros for the first time on vinyl. The placement of instruments in "Old Brown Shoe" sounds similar to those of the original mix, though errors are introduced when George's slide guitar is clipped off a couple of times in the second verse. Whoops!

As you may have already sussed from some of the songs I've referenced above, the other big deal with these new versions of 1962-1966 and 1967-1970 is that the original track line ups have been expanded with additional songs. The originals actually did a good job of compiling the most popular Beatles originals (no covers were included), but there were some notable omissions. Even when I bought those records at the extremely unripe age of 13, I was surprised by the absence of certain songs with which I was very familiar from the radio. Where were "Do You Want to Know a Secret" (a number-two hit in the U.S.), "P.S. I Love You" (a top-ten hit here), "I Should Have Known Better", "She's a Woman" (top-five), "I'm a Loser", "No Reply", "I'll Follow the Sun", and "Rain" (top-25)? At least some of these could have been included since 1962-1966 was so notoriously skimpy, with just fourteen or fifteen minutes of music on each of its first three sides. The decision to place seven tracks on sides One and Three but only six on sides Two and Four always seemed like a blatant waste of valuable space. Aside from the absence of "When I'm 64", 1967-1970 didn't really have any glaring omissions, and its sides were pretty jam-packed anyway.

So, when rumors that 1962-1966 and 1967-1970 would each be expanded to 3-LP sets hit the Internet, speculation went wild. I doubt anyone correctly predicted the extra tracks we ended up with. With the exception of "You Really Got a Hold on Me", the dozen songs added to 1962-1966 are fairly logical selections. "Twist and Shout", "I Saw Her Standing There", "Taxman", "Here, There, and Everywhere", "Get to Get You Into My Life", and "Tomorrow Never Knows" are widely considered to be classics, and the abundance of Revolver additions makes up for the short shrift The Beatles' best album received on the original 62-66. John's "I'm Only Sleeping" is a less well-known track from that record but important for its pioneering use of backward guitar and a necessary reminder that Revolver wasn't mainly Paul's show. "This Boy" has long been admired as a grand showcase for the guys' harmonies. "You Can't Do That" made Billboard's Top-50 on the flip-side of "Can't Buy Me Love". "Roll Over Beethoven" was a radio-staple in the U.S. and a smash single in several markets (it even went to number one in Australia), and it gives George Harrison a bit more representation on a compilation that once completely lacked his lead vocals. His singing and writing also get a bit more attention with the addition of "If I Needed Someone", though Rubber Soul was the one album that was really overrepresented on the original. However, none of the songs I'd mentioned in the previous paragraph were added. The compilers also doubled down on the original record's skimpiness by placing only six songs per side on this set's bonus LP. Huh.

If 62-66 seems like a bit of a missed opportunity in terms of bonus tracks, then 67-70 is downright baffling. On this set, only half of the selections make some sort of sense. "Blackbird" and "Oh! Darling" are two of The Beatles' most streamed cuts, so their presence on the new 67-70 makes commercial sense. The exclusive tracks on Yellow Submarine were not represented at all on the original compilation, so the inclusion of fan-fave "Hey Bulldog" feels right. As for better representing the formerly underrepresented "White Album", "Dear Prudence" seems like a natural choice, but the only reason I can come up with for why the obscure "Glass Onion" was chosen is that a popular movie shares its title, which would be a dumb reason to select it for a greatest hits-type album in lieu of more celebrated tracks like "Helter Skelter" or "Happiness Is a Warm Gun". 

The decision to include other oddities like "Within You, Without You", "I Want You (She's So Heavy)", and "I Me Mine" only makes sense if we assume that the Lennon and Harrison estates were deeply involved in the track selection and really like these particular numbers. I can't feature any other explanation for why they were included since they lack the familiarity and immediacy of the hits or the obvious rewards of milestones like "Tomorrow Never Knows" or "A Day in the Life". If "Revolution 9" had been added, I wouldn't be that much more mystified.

I completely understand that there was a desire to include more Harrisongs, since George was underrepresented on the original records, but there were certainly more sensible choices. To capture his sitar phase, "The Inner Light" would have been the ideal choice: it's a lovely, sprightly, concise track that, unlike "Within You, Without You", Giles has yet to remix. "For You Blue" was technically a number-one hit in the U.S. since the "Long and Winding Road" single was released right after Billboard discontinued its policy of issuing discrete chart positions for B-sides. It's certainly zingier than the dour "I Me Mine". And because "I Want You" and "Within You" are so very, very long, there are only a scant eight oldies on the bonus LP of 1967-1970, although that record is still short enough that a couple of other songs could have been included without any reduction in audio quality. 

For the CD iterations of these new compilations, the extra tracks are chronologically incorporated into the original running order. For the vinyl versions, they appear on bonus LPs appended to each set. This makes the oddity of the song choices stand out more, although getting a little creative with the order in which you play each side improves the flow a lot. (I recommend playing the first side of the bonus LP of 62-66 after side One of the original album and ending the set with the second side of the bonus. As for 67-70, play the first side of the bonus after side Two—skipping "Now and Then", which you may not need to hear more than once anyway, and "Within You, Without You", which really doesn't belong on a hits compilation— and play the second side of the bonus after side Three of the original album. Do as you please with "I Want You" and "I Me Mine".)

Instead of packaging the vinyl in the triple-fold-out covers Apple used for Mono Masters and the Anthology sets, 1962-1966 and 1967-1970 are each housed in reproductions of the original gatefolds, with one LP stored in one side and two in the other. While some may not like storing records in the same pocket, I definitely prefer this approach to the triple-fold covers, which make accessing the middle LP cumbersome. The pockets in the new gatefold are wide enough that the fit isn't too tight. The only new additions are inserts with liner notes for each set and new lyric inner sleeves for the bonus discs that match the styles of the original ones. There's also a slipcase if you opt for the complete package containing both sets.

The vinyl is uniformly flat and quiet with well-centered spindle holes. Bass is a bit overbearing on a lot of the newly remixed cuts on 1962-1966, as well as the first two Sgt. Pepper's tracks, "Glass Onion", and "Hey Bulldog" on 1967-1970, and you may want to adjust the tone controls on your sound system to tame it. Non-fill spots at the end of "Can't Buy Me Love" and in a few spots throughout "Yesterday" cause a touch of unwanted noise, but I only noticed this issue after listening through headphones. On 1962-1966, a bit of inner groove distortion also mars "Can't Buy Me Love", even with side One's conservative amount of music. On 1967-1970, IGD is excessive on "All You Need Is Love" on side One, but less so on sides Three and Four. "Revolution" and "I Want You" are so naturally distorted that if there's any unintended distortion at the ends of sides Two and Six, it is completely unnoticeable (actually, John's voice sounds clean on the former, so I assume there isn't any on side Two). 

And so, with this curve-ball in the release schedule, I'm reluctant to predict what we can expect from The Beatles' camp next year, but based on the nice way the remixed Rubber Soul tracks sound on this latest release, it might be good to follow through with the set a lot of fans expected to get this year. We shall see in 2024.

Review: 'B-Side'

For every hit that makes it onto the radio or Billboard's Hot 100, there's something more obscure happening on the other side. It might be a piece of tossed off trash, but it might also be of exceptional quality ("Rain"), a chance to throw a less prolific band member some royalty cash ("The Inner Light"), or an excuse to get inspiredly loony ("You Know My Name [Look Up the Number]"). Some B-sides are even better than their smash A-sides... at least that's my stance on all those Beatles flip sides I referenced in the previous sentence. 

Andy Cowan pays long overdue homage to flips in his new book B-Side. He runs through more than 500 of them, each chronicled with a brief paragraph on the particular song's history and appeal. Since he only discusses one B-side per artist, he casts a very wide net. I'm not sure if any music listener is eclectic/devoid-of-personal-taste enough to want a book that discusses The Who, Engelbert Humperdinck, Artie Shaw, Can, Frankie Avalon, The Sex Pistols, Shania Twain, N.W.A., Vangelis, The Pixies, Adele, Perry Como, PJ Harvey, Moby, Miles Davis, Sammy Davis Jr., Human League, Megadeth, Vanilla Ice, and Echo and the Bunnymen, but if such a person exists, this is the book for them (kudos, though, for including Zacherley!). 

Since most readers probably won't qualify and will want to zip to their favorite eras or artists, Cowan's decision to organize his book alphabetically by song title might prove a bit frustrating. But the concept is still nifty, and he does discuss such Psychobabble approved gems as The Stones' "Child of the Moon", Prince's "Erotic City", The Who's "Heaven and Hell", R.E.M.'s "Ages of You", XTC's "Dear God", Hendrix's "51st Anniversary", Sly Stone's "Everybody Is a Star", Small Faces' "Just Passing", and The Beach Boys' "Don't Worry Baby". I also like that he digs deep for some groovy oddities, such as The Syn's "14 Hour Technicolor Dream", The Creation's "Through My Eyes", and Tintern Abbey's "Vacuum CLeaner".

I did learn a few things, such as the apparent fact that the screaming at the beginning of "Child of the Moon" is that of producer Jimmy Miller and not Mick Jagger and that a certain naughty word I always assumed I was mishearing in Syd Barrett's "Candy and a Currant Bun" is, indeed, the naughty word in question. But without question this book's biggest revelation is the parade of A-Sides that started life as B-Sides, such as Gene Vincent's "Be-Bop-a-Lula", Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock", The Doobie Brothers' "Black Water", Bill Withers's "Ain't No Sunshine", Dionne Warwick's "Alfie", and Brenda Lee's "I'm Sorry". Who knew? Sometimes, though, these matters are down to the fact that Cowan is English, and A's and B's sometimes flipped across the pond, so for him, The Kink's "Who'll Be the Next in Line" is a B-side.

And since I'm sure you're wondering, the Beatles B-side Cowan selected is "Revolution".

Review: 'Jimi Hendrix Experience: Live At The Hollywood Bowl: August 18, 1967'

Two months to the day after The Jimi Hendrix Experience became an overnight stateside phenomenon at the Monterey Pop Festival, the group freaked out California a little further south at the Hollywood Bowl. The band was simply white hot at this point, still flying from rearranging brains en masse at the beginning of the summer and still so fresh that they hadn't even put out a sophomore LP yet. This material must have still been new enough that Jimi hadn't quite gotten it all down yet, as he kept forgetting to sing lines in "The Wind Cries Mary". But such gaffs are part of the charm of hearing a vintage, unadulterated performance, as you can on the new live disc, Jimi Hendrix Experience: Live At The Hollywood Bowl: August 18, 1967. The power of the band at this stage in their career is what makes it electrifying. 

Review: 'The Wicker Man: The Official Story of the Film'

Like most true cult films, The Wicker Man has certain trappings of a particular genre (horror), but it's actually pretty hard to categorize. For most of its run time, it would be better classified as a police procedural or mystery. Midway through production, director Robin Hardy declared it was a musical. Indeed, The Wicker Man is all these things, which is just one reason it is such a unique viewing experience. However, it can also be frustrating since it exists in so many forms due to a less than respectful release that saw it get chopped to pieces to play second-fiddle to Nic Roeg's Don't Look Now, with which it joined forces for an admittedly excellent double feature in 1973. Complicating the story further, there are questions as to how much it was influenced by David Pinner's novel Ritual, how much it was auteured by Hardy (whom many of the folks involved in the film describe as barely competent), and how miserable the cold, combative, and stressfully compressed shoot was.

Indeed, making The Wicker Man doesn't seem like it was that much fun for the people who made The Wicker Man, but that also makes the story of its making juicy with drama. That's a boon for writer John Walsh and his new book, The Wicker Man: The Official Story of the Film. He gets into the film's literary genesis, the historical accuracy of its pagan depictions, its music, and its troubled making, so full of animosity (Britt Ekland vs. Ingrid Pitt; Christopher Lee vs. Michael Deeley; Robin Hardy vs. everyone). He makes attempts to solve myths associated with the film, such as the notion that Deeley deliberately botched the film's release and that Rod Stewart made an attempt to buy every print of the film because he didn't approve of girlfriend Ekland showing so much skin in the flick, although there's so much bad blood and opportunities to be self-serving among the Wicker Man gang that the reliability of the sources may sometimes be questionable. 

But who cares? What matters is that the telling is delicious and the book is full of fascinating tidbits (I hadn't known that Christopher Lee held some sway over the script's rewrites) and images that include shots of the construction of the title man, original sheet music for its wonderful songs, actors in the studio recording those songs, some fabulous fan art, stills of deleted scenes that have not been included in any cut of the film, and a handy chart for differentiating the film's various edits. Now if only the longest and best edit could somehow get properly restored...

Review: 'Written in Their Soul – The Hits: The Stax Songwriter Demos'

A Stax record is instantly recognizable by a distinctive voice like Otis's or Carla's and the raw but thick backing from house bands Booker T. & The MG's and The Mar-Keys. Of course, a record doesn't begin with what you hear on the radio or vinyl. It usually starts off as lyrics and chords on a piece of paper and then first achieves sound on a rough demo to give producers and artists a clearer taste of the song. 

Hearing a Stax hit that doesn't quite sound like a Stax record is a bit jarring and more than a little fascinating, and that's what you can expect from Written in Their Soul – The Hits: The Stax Songwriter Demos. A familiar item such as The Staple Singers' "Respect Yourself" is nearly unrecognizable in co-composer Mack Rice's minimalistic, distorted, aggressive guitar and voice demo. Eddie Floyd's "I'll Always Have Faith in You", recorded by Billy Eckstine, is stripped to Floyd's haltingly and hauntingly beautiful voice and guitar that makes the finished record sound over-dramatic rand over-produced in comparison. However, Carla Thomas's "A Woman's Love" sounds nearly finished with the artist's own extraordinary voice in place and a comparatively full arrangement of piano and echoing guitar. Deanie Parker gets full band accompaniment for "I've Got No Time to Lose", which Carla Thomas ended up recording 

These demos were originally included on an expansive CD set called Written in Their Soul: The Stax Songwriter Demos, but a baker's dozen of the most recognizable numbers from that collection have been distilled on the limited edition (5,000 units) orange vinyl Hits for Record Store Day. By nature demos aren't always hi-fi, but this is as nice of a presentation as you can get on flat, quiet vinyl.

Review: The Dave Brubeck Quartet's 'Jazz at Oberlin'

For their first LP, The Dave Brubeck Quartet released a live set caught at Oberlin College in Ohio. Although the makeup of the band would change a bit over the years, the cornerstones of Brubeck's elegant yet harmonically adventurous piano and Paul Desmond's cherubic and searching alto sax are in place, although there are not yet those wonderfully imaginative original compositions like "Time Out", "Blue Rondo a La Turk", and "Bluette" that would cause the group's later albums to be widely regarded as classics. Instead the group worked with a quintet of standards such as Hoagy Carmichael's "Stardust" and Morgan Lewis's "How High the Moon". Nevertheless, Brubeck and Desmond's effortless interplay is already fully formed, and the latter wastes no time in showing off his fluttering skills on set opener "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)". The former begins the song in deceptively reserved mode before aggressively stumbling out strident chords that lay waste to his reputation as some sort of purveyor of tepid white-wine jazz. 

From there, they're off, pumping through a sprightly "Perdido", a cooly swaying "Stardust", and hard boogying renditions of "The Way You Look Tonight" and "How High the Moon". Really, the only thing missing is those extraordinary original compositions, but if you just want to hear two of jazz's most distinctive players do their thing, you can't go wrong at Jazz at Oberlin.

And if you've already sampled any of the titles in the audiophile "Original Jazz Classics" series, you can probably already surmise that you won't go wrong with Craft Recording's new reissue of Jazz at Oberlin. Kevin Gray remastered the original master tapes using an all-analog process that is usual for the Original Jazz Classics series yet too few others. The music sounds open, full bodied, and utterly natural, as if the guys are jamming away in your living room.

Review: 40th Anniversary Reissue of Social Distortion's 'Mommy's Little Monster'

Although Social Distortion emerged from the same West Coast hardcore scene as Black Flag and The Circle Jerks in the early eighties, you could be forgiven for assuming they hailed from across the other coast's pond because of Mike Ness's vocal affectations (reminiscent of Jake Burns) and beret (reminiscent of Captain Sensible) and the group's understanding of dynamics and variety, which were often lost on American punks. 

Those strong qualities were there from the beginning on Social Distortion's first album. Recorded in a single session and flashing by in under a half hour, Mommy's Little Monster spews nine memorable tracks that range from the riffy and speedy "The Creeps" to the echoey and anthemic "Another State of Mind" to the hippity-hoppity "It Wasn't a Pretty Picture" to the mid-tempo "Hour of Darkness" to the elated title track to the apocalyptic "Moral Threat". Their lyrics mostly threaten and celebrate punk attitude, while "It Wasn't a Pretty Picture" observes the Decline of Western Civilization with an ambivalence that is both chilling and oddly refreshing. These twenty-one-year-olds were old enough to recognize that society is fucked up and wise enough to know they couldn't offer any solutions.

For its fortieth anniversary, Craft Recordings is reissuing Mommy's Little Monster on vinyl with fully analog "lacquers cut from the original master tapes" (so reads the official pr). The vinyl is dead quiet, although my copy had a slight bowl-effect, which can generate inner groove distortion. Does this record have that problem? How the hell should I know? Social Distortion is so deliberately distorted its tough to tell what is or isn't intended, so I'm just going to go with my gut and say it sounds great, especially considering the recordings' lo-fi origins. The cover, which is awesome, is beautifully reproduced too.

Review: 'Stax Christmas'

If Halloween is the super-cool kid sitting in the back row scowling and painting its nails black, Christmas is the one with the billion-watt smile, eager for everyone to be its friend. And because its lights and ornaments and aggressively cheery songs can come off as a bit desperate, not everyone necessarily wants to be Christmas' friend. Some people actively hate it and flick into kill-mode whenever they hear "Jingle Bells" or that Mariah Carey song.