Review: 'Elton John With Ray Cooper – Live From The Rainbow Theatre'

It's hard to imagine two more dissimilar pop figures than Elton John, sometimes known to don a Donald Duck costume before pounding his Steinway to bits, and Ray Cooper, that guy often spied hypnotically pumping an egg shaker from behind Invisible Man shades in the stage's deep shadows. But the two shared the spotlight for a historic gig at London's Rainbow Theatre in May of 1977. 

Review: 'Mind Games' by John Lennon and Yoko Ono

When critics and audiences refused to embrace the radical politics of 1972's Sometime in New York City, John Lennon shifted tracks and made a poppier, sunnier record in 1973. Despite being hunted by the Nixon administration, which sought to expel him from the country because of his views, Lennon seemed to be in a pretty good place. This is reflected in the love songs, sing-along calls for freedom, "I'll believe in everything until it's disproven" philosophies, and general good-humored silliness of Mind Games. 

Review: 50th Anniversary edition of Elton John's 'Honky Château'

Tumbleweed Connection was Elton John's most thematically strong, beautifully written and produced album, but it didn't have any hits. With Honky Château, he got pretty damn close to that level of quality while also serving up two sizable smashes, one of which was probably his best song and possibly the best song about being a rocket man ever written (one must also give Bowie his due credit). Not every one of the album tracks was a genuine stand out, but the jauntily sexy "Hercules", the mellowly sexy "Mellow", the dreamy "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters", and the outrageous "I Think I'm Gonna Kill Myself" (not quite as hilarious as Queen's "Don't Try Suicide", but much quicker on the draw to find the humor in one of the most tragic things imaginable) are some of the best album cuts of John's career. 

Review: 'Glam! When Superstars ROCKed the World, 1970-74'

As the sixties came to an end, psychedelic Sgt. Pepper's silks and ruffles gave way to denim and unkempt tresses. The ragtag Band was the most influential group, and even the ever-flamboyant Hendrix dressed down in jeans and floppy fringe. Guitar solos nattered on for hours, and drum solos tumbled along for weeks. Without a doubt, rock and roll had lost its pizazz. 

Review: Lynne Goldsmith's 'Music in the '80s'

If you paid any attention to rock music during the eighties, you've seen a bunch of Lynn Goldsmith's pictures. She shot all of the decade's biggest stars from the coolest (Prince, The B-52s, The Ramones, Siouxsie) to the squarest (Barry Manilow). The variety of her photos is as eclectic as the people she photographed. She took glossy posed pics and candid back-stage ones that could be Polaroids. She took black and whites and colors and electrifying live shots and casual al fresco ones. My personal faves are the weird after-party pics featuring unlikely gatherings of stars. You want to see John Mellencamp beaming alongside Jayne County and David Johansen? You want to see Nile Rogers, Chrissie Hynde, Dexter Gordon, and Paul Shaffer sharing a table? You want to see Darlene Love in a clutch with Joan Jett and Elton John, who's wearing a huge, fake mohawk? Then Music in the '80s is the book for you. 

Review: Elton John's 'Madman Across the Water' 50th Anniversary Box Set

Elton John spent years struggling to get his career going, but when he finally scored a solo contract and began producing albums, he didn't take long to take off. His debut, 1969's Empty Sky, yielded no hits and wouldn't even get released in the U.S. until 1975, but his self-titled sophomore disc was a smash, going top-five and featuring his first big international hit, "Your Song". So it's perhaps not quite correct to classify Madman Across the Water as his breakthrough, since it was less successful than Elton John in terms of its singles ("Levon" and "Tiny Dancer" were both Billboard flops) and it's own chart performance, but it does feel like Reg had cracked a nut here. 

Madman Across the Water feels more fully formed than John's first two albums and more personal than its immediate predecessor, Tumbleweed Connection, which is a superbly crafted record--probably his best--but also a very blatant homage to The Band. Madman feels like a proper Elton John album through and through. There are some ambitious ideas probably too pop to really classify as prog ("Indian Sunset"), a pretty pop confection that may bear a touch too much sugar for some tastes ("Tiny Dancer"), one of those brooding things he does so well (the magnificent title track), the kind of self-reflexive yet humble look at life as a working musician that would fully flower on 1975's Captain Fantastic ("Holiday Inn"), and some eccentric character sketches that rely just as much on John's melodic gifts as they do on lyricist Bernie Taupin's imagination ("Levon" and "Razor Face"). Paul Buckmaster--rock's finest composer of swooping, lunging, bracing string arrangements--is also a profound presence throughout the disc. The only standard Elton John moves missing here are a cutesy-pie pastiche in the "Crocodile Rock" mode (which is one reason why Madman outclasses a good deal of what would follow it) and a rollicking, good-humored number.

Review: The Mirage's 'You Can’t Be Serious: 1966-1968'

Between 1965 and 1968, The Mirage released a mere eight singles, one of which they put out under the name Yellow Pages, and no LPs. The Hertfordshire quintet still left behind a pretty terrific legacy. Yes, their first two singles for CBS —a cover of Betty Everett’s “Shoop Shoop Song (It’s In His Kiss)” and a second rate Graham Nash composition called “Go Away”—were weak. Yes, the two singles they released under their own name and duress on the Page One label were downright lousy (their A-side as Yellow Pages, “Here Comes Jane”, is pretty good). But none of that matters on Guerssen Records’ You Can’t Be Serious: 1966-1968, because this compilation only collects the sides The Mirage recorded for Philips.

Review: '1973: Rock at the Crossroads'

While it may not ring the cultural-epoch bells of 1955 (beginning of Rock & Roll era), 1964 (British Invasion), 1977 (punk invasion), or 1991 (cue opening riff of “Smells Like Teen Spirit”), 1973 was actually a watershed year for pop music. Iconic releases included The Dark Side of the Moon, Quadrophenia, The Harder They Come, Court and Spark, Raw Power, New York Dolls, Band on the Run, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, and Innervisions. In fact, in his new book, 1973: Rock at the Crossroads, Andrew Grant Jackson deems the year “the zenith of classic rock,” referencing a FiveThirtyEight.com analysis concluding that classic rock radio plays more songs from that year than any other. He further argues that it was also the jumping-off point for such near-future genres as punk, disco, and hip-hop.

Review: ''Beside Bowie: The Mick Ronson Story Soundtrack'

Like Steven Van Zandt, Steve Stevens, Lenny Kaye, Robin, and Kato, Mick Ronson was the rare sideman who managed a degree of fame in his own right. Yet most people do not realize the extent of the guitarist’s influence on David Bowie or Ronson’s own talent. He was the ordinary bloke from Hull to Bowie’s Starman from Mars and Bowie’s main man behind the curtain. Mick Ronson wasn’t just the definitive glam guitarist; he was a multi-instrumentalist, producer, and an arranger who actually knew how to write an orchestral score (listen to “Life on Mars?” and succumb to the awe). Without Ronson, the first major phase of David Bowie’s career would have been utterly different, and most likely, not nearly as spectacular.

These are the things we learn in Jon Brewer’s 2017 documentary Beside Bowie: The Mick Ronson Story, and they are somewhat reinforced in the film’s soundtrack now receiving a vinyl and CD release via Universal Music (I received the vinyl edition for review purposes). Ronson’s work was so varied that a 14-track record couldn’t capture it in any complete way. His instrumental, arranging, and production work with Lou Reed, Bob Dylan, The Rich Kids, and Morrissey are not represented, but fortunately, rights were cleared for a dose of classic Bowie (“Moonage Daydream”, “Cracked Actor”, “Time”), Ian Hunter (“Once Bitten, Twice Shy”), Elton John (an early, epic version of “Madman Across the Water” that isn’t used in the film even though it’s a veritable Ronson demo reel), and Michael Chapman (“Soulful Lady”, another cinematic no-show).

Most importantly, there are four representatives of Ronson’s solo career, though they are limited to the material intended to be included on a third album that didn’t materialize until 1999 and the final album he recorded, 1994’s Heaven and Hull. Thus, the representation of his work continues to be lopsided on this soundtrack, and Joe Elliott’s version of “This Is For You”, a rambling bit of improvised piano from Mike Garson, and even Ronson’s own cover of “Like a Rolling Stone” are not especially essential… though that last one may miss the mark simply because a song so associated with its creator doesn’t cover well (no offense, Jimi). “Midnight Love” from Heaven and Hull may be significant because Ronson handles all of its instruments himself, but the song is muzak. Nevertheless, there is an inarguably healthy clutch of essential music on Beside Bowie: The Mick Ronson Story, and you can’t go wrong with the Elton/Bowie/Hunter-dominated first disc.

Review: Vinyl Reissues of 'Ringo' and 'Goodnight Vienna'

The reports of Ringo Starr’s luck are greatly exaggerated. He wasn’t some half-talent along for the Beatlemania ride, as his most heartless and clueless critics insist. His solid backbeat was essential to holding the band together and his quirky way with a drum fill was as essential to The Beatles’ distinctive sound as George’s ringing 12-string or Paul’s leaping bass lines. However, there is no question that Ringo would not have had a career as a solo artist if not for his old band. While Ringo-led tracks such as “Yellow Submarine”, “With a Little Help from My Friends”, and “Octopus’ Garden” are much more than novelty spots for the goofily charming drummer, one probably doesn’t hear even these classics and think, “Gee, this guy needs a whole album to himself.”

Review: 'Steve Miller Band Ultimate Hits'

The Steve Miller Band made some of the most simplistically pleasurable hits of the seventies.  Yet Steve Miller’s career is a complicated wad of contradictions. Before becoming a superstar for making zillions with conservative pop like “The Joker”, “Jet Airliner”, and “Take the Money and Run”, he was a cosmic bluesman in the West Coast underground scene. He became a major superstar despite being almost completely faceless. Although his songs have shamelessly ripped off Cream, Joe Walsh, The Mamas and the Papas, Free, and even himself (“Fly Like an Eagle” recycles the riff of 1969’s “My Dark Hour”, and “Take the Money and Run” recycles everything but the lyrics of 1969’s “Kow Kow Calculator”), the songs somehow transcend that issue. In other words, listening to “Rocky Mountain Way” doesn’t really scratch the same itch that “The Stake” does. Despite the fact that his music doesn’t even have the emotional core of hits by similar seventies megastars such as Fleetwood Mac and Elton John, those songs have connected with millions of people. Seemingly everyone born before 1975 has had the original Steve Miller Band’s Greatest Hits 1974-78 in her or his record collection at some time.

The interesting thing about the new compilation Ultimate Hits is how it attempts to sort through those contradictions. The set attempts to put a face on Miller by beginning not with his hits, but his personal history and voice. It begins with a short audio clip recorded during his childhood in which an older relative tells him he has a great voice and will find great success with it (the tuneless “la la las” that follow drop a hilarious punch line on the clip). Next up is a live version of “Gangster of Love” that begins with three minutes of Miller’s personal monologue on a background that is actually quite extraordinary: his godfather was Les Paul, who taught Miller his first few chords, and T Bone Walker continued that education.

After those four minutes of speech that effectively humanizes the hit machine, we get into a semi-chronological trip through the early psychedelic blues (though much of it is presented in live versions from later in his career), hey-day hits, slightly new wavey eighties period, and more recent recordings that forces listeners to hear beyond the 1974-78 radio-focused compartmentalization of the old Greatest Hits. Miller does not emerge from this set on the same level as the most individual artists of his generation, nor even as potent as Fleetwood Mac or Elton John—he’s too dependent on the musical ideas of others and too emotionless for that—but it does draw a more complete portrait of the real human behind the hits than any previous compilation. And more importantly, “The Joker”, “Jet Airliner”, “Take the Money and Run”, and the rest are still pleasing to hear forty years on.

366 Days at the Drive-In: Day 318

The Date: August 13

The Movie: Born to Boogie (1972)

What Is It?: Director Ringo Starr’s love letter to Marc Bolan is a surrealistic swirl of killer performance footage and insane, acid-dipped fantasy sequences. Ringo gets on camera too, as does Elton John.

Why Today?: Today is International Lefthanders Day, which should please south-paw Ringo.

Review: 'Elton John from Tin Pan Alley to the Yellow Brick Road'

Say what you will about the Donald Duck costumes and his lame MTV-era hits, but Elton John was one of the very best pop hit machines of the seventies. Not everything has aged well for various reasons (“Crocodile Rock”, “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me”, and “Candle in the Wind” come to mind), but blockbusters such as “Rocket Man”, “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”, “Levon”, and “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”, and a net-full of album tracks such as “Where to Now St. Peter”, “Blues for My Baby and Me”, “Harmony”, and “Madman Across the Water”, rate among the best pop released in the first half of the decade. So the fact that Keith Hayward’s Elton John from Tin Pan Alley to the Yellow Brick Road focuses almost exclusively on this period isn’t too much of an issue in itself. In fact, this book is actually a sequel to one that detailed the pre-stardom phase of Reg’s career. As Hayward suggests in his introduction, you won’t exactly be lost if you read volume two without reading volume one first, but a few important aspects—most notably John’s relationship with lyricist Bernie Taupin—will remain a bit hazy.

Nevertheless, we still get a fairly clear idea of who this unlikely superstar is just from these scant 200 pages. Elton John was a guy who used outrageous antics and attire to fight through his shyness and uncertainty about what kind of career he should pursue. While Hayward’s preface kind of frames his book as a tale of the music business in the seventies with John as the main reference point, this really is more of a biography than that, though certain limitations keep it from being definitive and may account for why Hayward chose to not represent his book as a biography. The people he interviewed often steer this story, and because they aren’t always the most integral characters in the core Elton John story, they sometimes steer it down tangential roads. For example, we get a lot more about the casting of Tina Turner in Tommy— a movie in which Elton John plays a very minor role— than is probably necessary because Hayward happened to interview the movie’s producer, Beryl Virtue. It’s an interesting story—I certainly cannot call any part of From Tin Pan Alley to the Yellow Brick Road anything less than interesting—but it is off-topic, and since this is a pretty short book, that is an issue worth mentioning. Discussions of John’s work and play with John Lennon, Rod Stewart, Kiki Dee, and Brian Wilson manage to fold other stars into the story without leaving out its main man.

Review: The Criterion Edition of 'Breaking the Waves'

After starting his career with a series of highly stylized films, Lars von Trier made Breaking the Waves, his first after co-founding the Dogma 95 movement, which preached absolute austerity: only location and handheld shooting, only contemporary settings, no non-diegetic sound or optical manipulation, no superficial action, no credit for the director, etc. Typically, he had trouble even playing by his own rules, and von Trier’s break-through film arrived without Dogma 95-certification, largely because of the hyper-stylized, digitally-colored chapter titles accompanied by non-diegetic pop songs by the likes of Jethro Tull, David Bowie, and Elton John to establish the seventies time period.