Anyways, here's the second instalment:
Five for Fighting
- Mike Lesley - Mike Lesley (1976)
- James Taylor - JT (1977)
- Arlo Guthrie - Alice's Restaurant (1967)
- Valdy - Country Man (1972)
- Real Life - Heartland (1983)
Mike Lesley (1976) The anticipation for this one was probably the most exciting thing I experienced with this album. I took a chance because I noticed Bryn Haworth was listed in the credits. Bryn is a fantastic guitar player, and I was kind of excited to hear what this would sound like. The cover was one of those goofy headshots that reminded me a lot of Randy Matthews' 1975 album Now Do You Understand. Originally, I was leaning toward Warren Zevon's Excitable Boy, but that came out after, and the colour was wrong.
Having no idea what to expect, I dropped the needle and waited for the opening salvo. I had an open mind and I wasn't expecting much, and sadly, after a couple of listens through, that's what I got. I don't need to shit on this one. I think obscurity is enough punishment. I really was hoping for a pleasant surprise.
The album itself sounded pretty good, and the performances were all decent, but there wasn't anything here to push this over the top. There was nothing horrible here, but there wasn't anything memorable either. Too bad. This would appear to be his one and only release.
James Taylor - JT (1977) I like a lot of James Taylor's songs, but I'm not what you'd call a die-hard fan. I got into him in the mid-'80s when I picked up his first greatest hits, the one with "Steamroller" on it. Dang, that is a great song. Then I got 1988's Never Say Die, an album I really liked, or at least the title track. I can't remember much else, but still think of the album as good.
JT is a really great-sounding album, and session aces Leland Sklar on bass and Danny Kortchmar on guitar really make a lot of the songs pop. Carly Simon, who was married to James Taylor at the time, provided harmony vocals on a number of songs, which was a nice touch.
The mid-'70s were a weird time for singer-songwriter guitar players, and while much of this could be considered middle of the road and dismissed as such, there was no denying the appeal of songs like "Your Smiling Face" and "Handy Man," a song I still really like despite it being so cheesy. Of course, his cringy "Traffic Jam" is silly enough to evoke a lopsided grin. That's as much WTF as anything.
I was pretty fortunate to find this in the dollar bin with all of the inserts and notes. I suppose the wobble on the vinyl looked a lot worse than it was. My gain.
Arlo Guthie - Alice's Restaurant (1967) It's mind-boggling to think that at the age of 20, Arlo crafted a twenty-minute opus that would encapsulate the feelings of a generation into a song that still gets special treatment on Thanksgiving from radio stations across the United States. Okay, I'm assuming that happens, but I know the U.S. station across the border I like to listen to in the car has been playing it faithfully on Thanksgiving for a long time.
When I found the album in the dollar bin, I thought it was a good score. I was more curious about the second side, and what was to be found outside of "Alice's Restaurant." This is where it becomes evident that young Mister Guthrie was an old soul stuck in a young man's body. Although that's a gross generalization, as without the exuberance of youth he wouldn't have been able to pull off songs like "Ring-Around-a-Rosy-Rag," "The Motorcycle Song" and, of course, his career-defining opus "Alice's Restaurant."
Then again, on "I'm Going Home" and the album's closer "Highway in the Wind," he sounds wise beyond his years. While I'm not as familiar with this era of the '60s, mainly because when this came out my biggest accomplishment in life as a four-year-old was being able to poop in the toilet by myself, I appreciate the time capsule the music provides. And if I get a hankering to hear "Alice's Restaurant," I can just put it on without having to wait until Thanksgiving.
Valdy - Country Man (1972) When I think of Valdy, I think of "Rock N' Roll Song," and I've loved this song for half a century. (Good lord.) That song just blew my mind. I mean, it was up there with the best of them for me. I remember my Uncle Lloyd had the album, and he said the rest of the album wasn't like that song, at all.
I'm glad I didn't listen to it back then, as the bait and switch would have poisoned it for me. Now here I am fifty years later, and the first thing I have to reconcile is the picture of the hairy hippie farmer who looked like a wizened old man, but was only in his mid-'20s. Then again, I was only nine, so everyone looked old.
I found this in the bin for a buck, and to just get my song it was worth it. What I hadn't really expected was to love the rest of the album. For a debut record, Valdy had a maturity and touch generally associated with seasoned performers. The songs sound crisp and fresh, and I was totally caught off guard.
There are a couple of Bruce Cockburn covers here, "Goin' to the Country" and "Goin' Down Slow," and a fun version of "Rainmaker," originally performed by Harry Nilsson.
Yeah, this was a pleasant surprise. Thank you, Valdy. This is good stuff, but can you still play me a rock and roll song?
Instead, they now looked like extras from a Mad Max film and had a penchant for long overcoats and welding goggles. At the time, they just looked cool and futuristic, which I suppose was the idea. Now they just look goofy and make for great costumes.
Heartland was one of those albums that really clicked with me. Finding a sealed vinyl copy for ten bucks was a pretty solid score, and I hadn't heard the album in decades. Opening with "Send Me an Angel" was a blessing and also a bit of a curse, too. The song is so good, and so nearly perfect, that the rest of the album can't measure up.
It's not like there are any duds, though, which really helps. They weren't a one-hit wonder, they were a one-album wonder. Sure, they released more stuff, but this is all I have (for now).
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