The Mothers of Invention - Ahead of Their Time (CD,1993)

This is probably about as close as you'll come to getting an idea of what a Mothers of Invention show would have been like in their heyday. Recorded on October 25, 1968, this album is a must for any serious Mothers of Invention fan. For those of you who consider yourselves fans but aren't as serious about it, I'd suggest you start at track 11.

Tracks 1-10 represent a short play/musical that Zappa would later call Progress?, a loose story about some of the Mothers quitting to form their own splinter groups and the trouble they encounter along the way. There's music mixed in with the semi-improvised dialogue, but it's all fairly abstract stuff that is meant to (I'm assuming) evoke the feelings of the characters in the bit. I find it quite interesting, but that's because I can tell who everyone is. There's also short film clips of this performance in a few Zappa movies, so I don't have any trouble picturing it. But that's me: I'm a cool, cool guy.

Really though, the point I'm trying to make is that if you don't at least kind of understand what's going on, it won't be of much interest to you. I usually view it as a long intro to the musical section that makes up the second half, which is where things really get moving. So, in that fashion, it's a nice warm-up.

Track 11 is a rousing, eight-minute version of "King Kong," where the band, who had been holding back for the duration of Progress? finally gets to let loose. It's an incredible jam, ending with warbling feedback and click-clacky percussion that segues right into an amended, minute-and-a-half version of "Help, I'm A Rock." I'm pretty sure that's the last track with vocals on the album.

From there, it's on to "Transylvania Boogie," which runs right into a wacky version of "Pound for a Brown" that twists and turns all over the place (as that song tends to do). Zappa's guitar solo on it is muffled and relegated to the near background, but it's fantastic nonetheless. That moves right into short, tight, peppy instrumental versions of "Sleeping in a Jar," "Let's Make the Water Turn Black," and "Harry, You're a Beast," which are melded together and pulled off seamlessly.

The album wraps up with two sections of "The Orange County Lumber Truck," one very short and right before "Oh No" (which is sandwiched in between the two), and one ten-minute-plus section that beats the show into submission and ends it poignantly. Parts of that song (and that specific performance), I believe, appeared on Weasels Ripped My Flesh but in a different version.

This CD is one of my most recent Mothers purchases, and I can't stop listening to it. The second half of it, as long as you're OK with the lack of vocals, is practically untouchable. In the liner notes, Zappa calls it a "fair" performance (this was one of the last Zappa-related albums released before his death), but he'd never admit that it was great. I'll admit it: it's great.

Can't find any audio for this specific album, but here are The Mothers of Invention in 1968

going

completely

nuts.

The Mothers of Invention - 'Tis the Season to Be Jelly (LP, 1991)

This is a bootleg of a Mothers show in Sweden from 1967, and one of the more common ones you're bound to see. Not sure when it was originally bootlegged, but it's been around for a long time in one form or another.

In 1991, Zappa, tired of all these random bootleg recordings floating around (without any compensation on his end), collected the most common ones and released them through Rhino as the Beat the Boots box. (They were also released on CD.) The copy I have is from that era, and it must have been released on its own (not in the box set), because I can't believe anyone in their right mind would break up the box. Beat the Boots is on my list of Zappa LPs to buy, but it's quite expensive if you can find a decent copy with everything intact. So, I've been putting it off. As of right now, I have two of the LPs from the box, but I want the whole damn thing in its complete form. Someday.

So, like I said, this show is from Sweden in 1967. The date is often disputed, but it's commonly listed as September 30. It's a great (and most likely incomplete) show, with the Mothers doing a nice variety of stuff. The first side features a waltz version of "You Didn't Try to Call Me," along with a fairly straightforward take on "Big Leg Emma." There's also short bits of such rock classics as "Baby Love," "Blue Suede Shoes," and "Hound Dog," along with a few other random pop songs.

The second side is comprised of two songs: A seventeen-minute version of "King Kong," and a strangely faithful-to-the-album version of "It Can't Happen Here," or at least initially. After the lyrics cut out, the band goes into noise-improv mode and it gets all sorts of weird. "King Kong" is pretty good, but the band sounds a bit directionless in certain spots. The same goes for the rest of the album. I'm not trying to say this isn't good. Any bootleg of the Mothers from this era is worth listening to. It's just that the recording's not particularly great, and the performance probably wasn't one of their better ones.

I still play this record every once in a while, but I can't say it's one of my favorites. Great cover though, huh?

Can't find any audio, but here's a weird version of "Let's Make the Water Turn Black" from 1967.

The Mothers of Invention - The **** of The Mothers (LP, 1969)

The Mothers started out on the Verve record label, but beginning with Uncle Meat, they moved to Bizarre, which was a sub-label of Reprise that (from what I understand) was created just for Zappa. Previously, I spoke about Mothermania and how it was the only Mothers compilation approved and compiled by Zappa himself.

Apparently Verve still wanted to capitalize on the success of The Mothers, so they released this compilation after the band went to their new label. As I said, a lot of Zappa fans consider a record like this fairly worthless, as it contains no new material, wasn't released with the band's permission, and basically comes off as a cash-grab. I agree with those sentiments, but I like to own the damn thing anyway. It's got interesting cover art, and after all, it is technically a Mothers album, so the completist in me demands that I have it.

Do I ever listen to it? Nope. But I like to see it sitting there. It features cuts from their first three records, with the only interesting anomaly being that of the three-part "Call Any Vegetable" trilogy (discussed in the previous Mothermania post), it includes only the second two parts, which effectively omits the basis for the conclusion. So, that's a bit odd, but not really that interesting.

I still consider it a solid part of my Mothers collection, though. It's a good-looking record.

"Concentration Moon"

The Mothers of Invention - Uncle Meat (2xLP, 1969)

This album will always bring one hilarious personal memory to mind for me. While talking to my friend Nate one night, the subject of what record he likes to put on while he's making love to a lady came up. He didn't even hesitate: "Uncle Meat by The Mothers." This is not funny to you. But if you knew Nate and you knew Uncle Meat... Just trust me. It's the best answer ever.

Like the movie - but not to such a crippling degree - the soundtrack to Uncle Meat takes patience. But once you let it into your brain (and your heart - awww), there is no going back. I have never listened to Uncle Meat while physically romancing a lady, but I'll tell you what: it's a great road trip record, a great record to clean the house to, and a great record to just put on and stare at the ceiling to. It's everything that was ever great about the Mothers in one hour-plus package (actually, I think the CD is much longer than that): jaunty instrumentals, random dialogue, unidentifiable sound effects, incredibly catchy songs, and bootleg-quality live recordings that threaten to negate the whole thing until you realize how brilliantly they fit into the scope of the album.

This is a record that demands to be listened to beginning to end. If you don't find something to love in track 3, the six-minute abstractness that is "Nine Types of Industrial Pollution," then this might not be for you. But if you find it intriguing - even if you're not sure why - stick with it. Play the rest of the album and let it suck you in.

Witness the beauty of the pepped-up doo-wop in "Dog Breath, in the Year of the Plague." Try to get "Sleeping in a Jar" out of your head, even though it's less than a minute long. It will haunt you. And when you've finally made it through all six parts of "King Kong," you will be a convert. Or maybe you'll have hated it. I don't know. But the first time I heard this record, I couldn't wait to hear it again. And I still listen to it more than probably any other Mothers album. I think.

A note on the CD version: it contains some tracks that were not included on the original double-LP set, and should not be listened to. They are "Uncle Meat Film Excerpt, Pt. 1," "Tengo Na Minchia Tanta," and "Uncle Meat Film Excerpt, Pt. 2." Avoid them, as they are useless.

This is also one of my favorite Mothers albums, art-wise. Sweet gatefold cover, incredibly strange artwork inside and out, and a 12-page booklet that contains the actual Uncle Meat story, as Zappa envisioned it. It makes little sense, too, but a bit more than the movie.

I recommend the shit out of this album.

"King Kong"

The Mothers of Invention - Mothermania (LP, 1969)

Zappa/Mothers fans get a boner for this early "best-of" LP, and there's a few reasons for that.

First, it's the only Mothers of Invention compilation that was ever authorized and hand-picked by Zappa himself. There were a few others released later (we'll get to those), but this was the first, and many hardcore enthusiasts consider it - because of FZ's stamp of approval - the only one worth owning.

Second, this album - while containing previously released material - contains different edits of a few tracks. For instance, on Absolutely Free, "Call Any Vegetable," "Invocation & Ritual Dance of the Young Pumpkin," and "Soft-Cell Conclusion" all bridge together to form one long song, based around the "Call Any Vegetable" refrain. On this record, "Invocation" (which is a seven-minute instrumental break) has been removed, with the two surrounding tracks combined and called, simply, "Call Any Vegetable." There's also a few extra bars of filler in there to join the two sections.

On Freak Out!, "Help I'm a Rock" is listed (on the vinyl only) as "A Suite in Three Movements," with the first being "Okay to Tap Dance," the second being "In Memoriam, Edgar Varèse," and the third being "It Can't Happen Here." On Mothermania, "It Can't Happen Here" is removed from the suite and stands alone as its own song, but it's also a different edit with an abruptly looped ending and a few additional spoken words from Zappa. (In the original version, Zappa tells Suzy Creamcheese that they've been "very interested in [her] development." On this version, he adds, "since you first took the shots.")

However, the major factor in all this (and I probably should have mentioned this first) is that this remains one of the only Zappa-related albums that has never seen an official release on CD. The Zappa family finally released it as a digital download this past year, but the only physical copies to own remain the original LPs. There are different versions of these, as well, and though I don't know how many, the label variations on the LPs themselves seem to determine the price.

I held out for a long time before picking up a copy of this LP, because record store jerks frequently try to jack up the prices on copies that aren't that great. My wait paid off, and I found a copy in incredible shape for a reasonable price. As it stands now, it's probably my most valuable Zappa LP. I checked some completed listings on eBay, and was surprised by how much a copy identical to mine sold for. So that's pretty sweet.

Now keep your dirty mitts off of it.

The Mothers of Invention, Live in 1968

The Mothers of Invention - Cruising with Ruben & the Jets (LP, 1968)

1968 was a big year for Zappa and the Mothers. After We're Only in It for the Money, Zappa put out his first solo album, the wacky-fun Lumpy Gravy, and then got back with the Mothers to drop this LP, a full-on doo-wop album that is either brilliantly satirical or completely serious. I've never been able to tell which.

While Freak Out! had its share of doo-wop tunes, most of them were fashioned with snarky lyrics that could hardly be misinterpreted. While there's a little of that here, it's toned down considerably, making it unclear whether or not this is just a tribute album to the style of music that Zappa loved so much growing up. In the end, it doesn't matter. This is simply a great little record, a collection of tunes that mostly feature Ray Collins on lead vocals and sound like they're straight from a malt shop. I know it sounds like an odd idea - and it is - but it's strangely enjoyable.

Three tracks from Freak Out! ("How Could I Be Such a Fool?," "You Didn't Try to Call Me," and "Any Way the Wind Blows") get reworked here, and though the lyrics remain the same, the feel and tempos of the songs change considerably in each case. It's a cool idea, mostly because they're so different in their newer versions.

This album is one of the ones that's a sore spot for Zappa fans, because before it was released on CD, Zappa had some dudes do overdubs on some of the songs he wasn't happy with. Of course, this was like twenty years later, so it's completely obvious where the new tracks are. I'm pretty sure it's never been released in its original form on CD. My advice: stop being such a sniveler and buy the original LP. That's how it was supposed to be heard in the first place, you sissies.

And it's a sweet gatefold number with fun shit on the inside. Yeah, my copy's NM. Eh, maybe EX+.

"I'm Not Satisfied"

The Mothers of Invention - We're Only in It for the Money (LP, CD, 1968)

One of the greatest albums of all time? Depends on who you talk to. If you talk to me, I'll tell you that it is. This is The Mothers' crowning achievement, an album that is musically dense, insanely complex in its structure, completely hilarious, and just all-around amazing.

There are a few different versions of this album, and if you care about that, read the Wikipedia article here. I was first introduced to this gem via the aforementioned RYKO re-releases that sprouted up in the mid-90's. I had no idea that Zappa had gone back and overdubbed some bass and percussion parts. It wasn't until I bought an actual LP copy (I'm not completely happy with mine - it doesn't have the original insert) that I heard the album as it was originally released. The CD version I played incessantly - and still have - is produced terribly; it's one of the quietest CDs I own. They've since RE-re-released it, and it sounds better. The version I have includes Lumpy Gravy, Zappa's first solo album. Anyway.

If you like hippies being skewered mercilessly - and who doesn't - then this is the album for you. And while the trampling of Flower Power is fantastic, it wouldn't be shit without the songs on this record. Every single one is great, and really shows Zappa coming into his own. He's bitter, driven, and must have been determined to show The Beatles what was really going on. And anyone who thought The Mothers were a tripped-out, acid-fueled, psychedelic band got set straight with this one. "Who Needs the Peace Corps?" takes care of that early on in the proceedings.

From there, the brilliance just escalates. Songs like "Concentration Moon," "Mom & Dad," "What's the Ugliest Part of Your Body?" - heck, really just the whole damn thing - are so immediately enjoyable that I dare you not to love them. (I made the mistake of daring girls not to love them in college, and they gladly obliged. Zappa will not get you laid, gents.)

Still following the template of a loose concept album, this record is the big kiss-off to the hippie movement, specifically those who seem to be obsessed with something that they don't even care to understand. "Flower Punk" is perhaps the most scathing of these cuts, and it's also one of my all-time favorites.

I lived in Eugene when I first got into this record, and the timing couldn't have been better. My tolerance of the "hippies" grew thin within the first few months of being there, and this album provided much ammo against the folks I despised. But like I said, it wouldn't have meant jack without the great songs that this album contains. I've often called this one of my favorite records of all time, and I still stand by that. I can still listen to it and love it, and I'm going on 15 years of it being a part of my life.

When I said you should start at the beginning with The Mothers, I should have said you could also start here. If you don't like this album, you won't like The Mothers. But if you do, you'll immediately want to hear more.

"Mother People"? Brilliant. "Let's Make the Water Turn Black"? One of the greatest songs ever. "Take Your Clothes Off When You Dance"? Practically perfect. I can't say enough about this one, folks. I know Zappa's not for everyone, but I'd urge you to give this one a shot.

"Let's Make the Water Turn Black"

The Mothers of Invention - Absolutely Free (LP, 1967)

I have said, on occasion, that The Mothers are my favorite band ever. At times, I have certainly felt like that. When I'm engulfed in the genius of an album like Absolutely Free, it's hard for me to imagine anything better. This record is top-notch Mothers, a collection of songs that perfectly bridge the gap between the album that preceded it and the one that would follow.

Absolutely Free is more straight-up nutty (lyrically, at least) than the Mothers' debut, with tracks like "Call Any Vegetable" and "Duke of Prunes" being some of the major tunes here. Though, wonderfully, it's often hard to tell where one song ends and one begins on this album. They all blend together in what Zappa called "mini-suites" (one on each side), movements that incorporate smaller elements of songs that all work together to form one semi-cohesive song. These songs often shoot off into sprawling instrumental sections (with "Invocation & Ritual Dance of the Young Pumpkin" easily being the biggest one), but the record is tight and lean compared to Freak Out!

And I love it. This is one of my favorite Mothers albums, and though I say that about almost all of them, I really do have a fondness for this one. It just gets going and doesn't stop, except when you have to flip the record over. And the variation of styles and complexity here are nuts. The addition of Bunk Gardner on sax, the irrepressible Don Preston on keys, and the beefy Billy Mundi on percussion couldn't have hurt. The Mothers sound wide on this album, and they also sound rehearsed and well-oiled. "Brown Shoes Don't Make It" is a feat unto itself.

Man, seriously. Just listen to The Mothers' albums in order. You'll thank me. Because you need this perspective for what comes next. Well, not exactly. But it helps.

"Call Any Vegetable"

The Mothers of Invention - Freak Out! (2xLP, CD, 1966)

When I said "get ready for the Mothers," I hope you didn't take that lightly. Because we're about to spend the next three weeks with them. Not on any Zappa solo stuff, mind you. Just the Mothers. By the end of it you will either be convinced that they were one of the most important bands of the 20th century (my unflinching opinion), or you'll be completely sick of them. Eh, what do I care? This ain't required reading.

For the uninitiated, here's the deal. The Mothers of Invention (later just The Mothers) were Frank Zappa's first real (by that I mean well-known/successful) band, a group that he led from roughly 1964-1975. There were various incarnations of The Mothers, with Zappa always leading the way. The Wikipedia article on them isn't great, but it can give you a quick backstory if you're interested. If you really want to nerd out on the different eras of the Mothers, check this out.

So, it all begins here, with one of the most monumental debuts in rock history. I've heard that this is the first double-LP ever, or the first gatefold ever, but I'm not sure if either of those claims are true. It was definitely one of the first of both of those, but there had to be two-record sets that preceded this one. It's definitely notable for being a 2-LP debut album, of which there can't be many.

I started listening to Zappa towards the end of high school, and was quickly converted to a fan. RYKO had just begun to release all of Zappa's music on CD, and I think it was around 1995 that I scooped this bad boy up. It wouldn't be until years later (maybe around 2000?) that I shelled out the dough for an original copy of the double album, and even then I bought the stereo version (as opposed to the much rarer - and more expensive - mono release). The copy I have is in insanely good shape, though, so I don't regret the purchase. I'd still like to get a mono copy, or even a copy that has the original "Freak Out! Hot Spots" ad on the inside, which denotes a very early pressing. But check out what they go for on eBay. Might be a while.

Anyway, the music. It's unreal. Explaining The Mothers' sound would take pages, but at this point it was basically a mix of upended psych-rock and snarky doo-wop. Songs like "Who Are the Brain Police?" and "Hungry Freaks, Daddy" are right next to seemingly sincere tunes like "Go Cry on Somebody Else's Shoulder" and "How Could I Be Such a Fool?," making this record initially confusing, but once you "get it," there's nothing better. I still can't believe this thing came out in 1966. I still can't believe a record label put it out. I still can't believe I've been listening to it since I was 19 and I haven't grown out of it or tired of it.

After shuffling through wonderfully produced poppish numbers for the first 3/4's of the record, the album wraps up with three huge tracks that make up the entire second LP. "Trouble Every Day" is possibly the most sincere social commentary Zappa would ever make, a blues-based number about the Watts riots. A great, great song. And one of the few songs on the album where he takes care of the lead vocal by himself (Ray Collins handles a good amount of the vocals on this album).

At 8:40, "Help, I'm a Rock" is the second-longest track on the album, behind the track that follows it, the 12:22 "The Return of the Son of Monster Magnet." Both are impossible to put into words, but they're highly experimental and incredibly awesome. Again, I can't believe that a label released this in 1966. But man, I'm glad they did.

Want to get into The Mothers? Start here. If you don't find anything in this one, you might want to just move on with your life. But then again, the next ones are great, too...

"Hungry Freaks, Daddy"

Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin II (LP, 1969)

While this isn't my favorite Zeppelin record, I definitely got some mileage out of this one.

"Whole Lotta Love" continues to be one of the most overrated songs in rock, but once you get past that, things are mostly good. "What Is and What Should Never Be" is a damn fine song, and one that shows the sound that the band was moving towards. Then they go and kill it by slagging through the boring blues of "The Lemon Song."

There's been a lot of talk throughout the years about Led Zeppelin stealing riffs and lyrics from old blues dudes, and "The Lemon Song" always comes up in those conversations. Tracks like that one, "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You," and "I Can't Quit You Baby" should be more notable for being too long, and ultimately feeling like time-fillers. They're the tracks on the first few Zeppelin albums that are weighing everything down. As soon as they kick into "Thank You," everything becomes lighter, more intricate, and a whole lot more interesting. And that's the song that ends the first side.

The second half of Led Zeppelin II is the strongest side the band had put together up to this point. The one-two combo of "Heartbreaker" and "Living Loving Maid (She's Just a Woman)" works terrifically for some reason (which is why we'll never understand how Jimmy Page separated them on the box set), and "Ramble On" works the quiet-loud dynamic really well.

And, ah, how teenage me loved "Moby Dick." We'd tell debaucherous tales of Bonzo while watching a shitty VHS copy of The Song Remains the Same, because, dude, Bonzo plays with his bare hands. It blew our fucking minds.

"Bring It On Home" is another acoustic/electric mishmash, and a very underrated song. A solid end to a solid record. Listening to this today, I realized I never really need to hear it again. I listened to it a lot when I was a teenager. Maybe too much.

"What Is and What Should Never Be"

Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin (LP, 1968)

Who's ready to get the Led out?

I haven't purposefully listened to Led Zeppelin in years, but I spent many a solitary hour in my teens rocking out to Page, Plant, JPJ and Bonzo. I think most teenage dudes go through a Zep phase. Mine was intense, but it probably could have been a little more obsessive. (I reserved that behavior for The Doors.) Still, I managed to collect all their major albums on LP (not hard to do), and they still remain in my collection. And they will always remain in my collection. I doubt I'll ever get back into Led Zeppelin again, but it's nice to know the albums are there if I need them.

So, get ready for a week and a half of nothing but Led Zeppelin. I know most of these albums really well, but it's been a while since I've really put any time in. We'll see what I can remember.

We start here, with their eponymous debut. Or, as losers like to call it: Led Zeppelin 1. Don't call it that. Maybe you think you're distinguishing it from their untitled fourth record, but everyone calls that one Led Zeppelin IV. Let's just leave it like that.

This was never my favorite Zeppelin record. Maybe it's the two Willie Dixon covers ("You Shook Me" and "I Can't Quit You Baby"), maybe it's the drawn-out indulgence of "Dazed & Confused," which remains a terribly overrated song. However, most of the Zeppelin originals here (especially the shorter ones) are great. "Good Times Bad Times" is perhaps the most straightforward Zep tune ever, and it still packs a punch. "Communication Breakdown" is equally powerful, and even faster.

"Your Time is Gonna Come" and the terrific instrumental "Black Mountain Side" show the more mellow side of Jimmy Page's playing, and sound more like the Zeppelin that would show up on their third LP. Both really great songs. But, the lengthy blues of the aforementioned cover songs, along with the six-and-a-half minute reworking of the traditional "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You" and the sprawling eight-minutes-plus of "How Many More Times" are too much for me. I get what they're doing, and I get why people like it, but I always thought Led Zeppelin was the perfect four-minute song band.

They'll prove to be just that on their next three records. That's when shit gets really good.

"Communication Breakdown"

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Historic Performances Recorded at the Monterey International Pop Festival (LP, 1970)

This is a split between Hendrix and Otis Redding, so here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to talk about the Hendrix side here, and I'll wait to do the Otis side when we get to his stuff (I'm already looking forward to that).

So yeah, these are four songs from The Jimi Hendrix Experience's legendary set at Monterery. Why they waited until three years after the festival to release this is anyone's guess, but I think it ended up being the last official Hendrix release before he died, so that's something.

Of the four tracks here, only one is a Hendrix original, a rowdy version of "Can You See Me," a track that was only released on the UK version of the group's debut. So, that's a solid selection, if not a bit of a strange one. Jimi's takes on "Like a Rolling Stone" and "Wild Thing" have never been favorites of mine, but these versions do have more appeal considering the importance of the performance.

The real winner here, and easily the best song of the four, is the group's version of "Rock Me Baby," a blues number that's been recorded a million times, but never like this. Hendrix sounds so out of it when he's introducing the number, but as soon as he wrenches into the opening riff, he's perfect. If you ever wonder why people worship Jimi like he was a god, check out that song. It's one I'll never get tired of.

"Rock Me Baby"

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Electric Ladyland (CD, 1968)

First off, let me say that this is a fantastic record. It's probably my least favorite of the albums Hendrix released during his lifetime, but c'mon: it's Electric Ladyland, for cryin' out loud.

Having said that, I've always had to be in right frame of mind, with some serious time on my hands, to really take this one all the way in. And even then, sometimes it proves to be too much for me. Part of this can be contributed to the two ultra-long jams it contains ("Voodoo Chile" and "1983... (A Merman I Should Turn to Be)"), and part of it might be that I have always felt this album was sequenced strangely. Of course, this was in the days of vinyl-only, so when you have songs that are 13-minutes-plus, it limits your options in fitting songs on sides of records. Anyway.

This record also contains some of my favorite Hendrix songs. "Crosstown Traffic" is classic Hendrix, and so is "Gyspy Eyes." But the more Jimi leads the band towards blues, the more I lose interest. That's just personal preference, and I realize it's a bit ridiculous. But I've always felt like that. I had a copy of this when I was younger (I just re-bought the CD), and I recall feeling the same way. It just never had the same flow for me as his previous two records.

Of course, tracks like "Long Hot Summer Night" and "Burning of the Midnight Lamp" still sound fantastic. And while I could do without "All Along the Watchtower" (I have always maintained a senseless aversion to that song, in all its forms), closing the record with "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)" is impossible to deny. It's a jam that never gets old.

Again, I'm in no way attempting to be critical of this record. It's just never been the first one I reach for when I want to hear some Jimi. So, there you go.

"Burning of the Midnight Lamp"

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Axis: Bold as Love (LP, 1968)

This is Hendrix's best record.

I'm just going to put that out there right away. While you could argue that Are You Experienced was more important (and I'd probably agree with you), this, to me, is Hendrix at his finest. Created quickly after their debut (and released in the same year overseas), this record features a Jimi who's still out to prove himself; a man who learned a few things from his first record and made the little tweaks necessary to crank out an album that is a knockout from start to finish.

While parts of his debut sound a bit rushed (I'm not knocking that record at all, I'm just sayin'), and Electric Ladyland is at times too sprawling and hints at Hendrix indulging himself and possibly losing sight of his original concept (we'll talk more about that), Axis: Bold as Love is concise, unbelievably brilliant, and essentially flawless. Maybe it's because I'm just as fond as Jimi the songwriter as I am Jimi the guitar player. Maybe it's because I think "One Rainy Wish" is an absolutely perfect song in every way. Maybe it's because I had spent a lot of time in my youth listening to the first record, convincing myself that it couldn't possibly get any better than that, and when it did, I became convinced Hendrix wasn't from this planet.

Fittingly, the spaced-out intro to this record, "EXP" (which must have sent many an acid tripper either into the stars or contemplating reality in way they had never hoped to), starts off with a surreal interview on the topic of UFO's, and sets the stage nicely for a record that feels very above-the-earth. The swirling feedback of that song is so fantastic, a quick-building chaos that is both frightening and pretty.

When it settles and the shuffle of "Up from the Skies" starts up, it's a mix of calm and surreality, with Hendrix's vocals sounding as smooth and sincere as they ever did. It's followed by the drum-heavy (and everything-heavy, really) boldness of "Spanish Castle Magic," a track that features some mean guitar work (no shit?). "Wait Until Tomorrow" might be a bit poppy for some, but the one-two punch of that track and "Ain't No Telling" has always been a favorite combo of mine.

"Little Wing" is a Hendrix classic, a song that is contained to two-and-a-half minutes here, which must have been a struggle. The first side closes with "If 6 Was 9," a bluesy track that thrives on some enthused vocals from Hendrix, as well as some great lyrics. When you're a teenager, this is a great song to choose as your personal anthem. I'm sure I did for a day or two.

The second side opens with some more of Jimi in pop mode, with "You Got Me Floating." I will concede that this track comes off as one of his most formulaic, but his guitar playing completely makes up for it. "Castles Made of Sand" is probably my least favorite track on this record, but I think that's because it was one of my favorites 15 years ago. "She's So Fine" is one of the odd Experience songs with Noel Redding on vocals, and I've always liked it. His voice sounds wiry thin compared to Hendrix's, but this song is well put together.

"One Rainy Wish" reminds me a bit of "May This Be Love," but only in its light tones. It's hard to say which I like better, but it doesn't matter. "One Rainy Wish" is perfect, sounding as spaced-out as the rest of the record, but also very "together." It's followed by "Little Miss Lover," a track that is maybe the least notable of the bunch, but still solid. Of course.

"Bold As Love" kicks in abruptly, with Jimi sounding abrasive in the opening lines, than calming considerably. This is clearly Hendrix imitating Dylan, but that's fine, because he always did Dylan better than Dylan could ever had hoped to. And here, he's written an anthemic number that sums up the preceding tracks in one four-minute stroke. It may be slightly nonsensical, but fuck it: it's tremendous.

So, there you go. My favorite Hendrix record. And I say that with confidence.

"Up from the Skies"

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Are You Experienced (LP, 1967)

Previously, I had mentioned that there were three LPs that served as my earliest introductions to rock music. The Beatles' Hey Jude was the first, The Doors' eponymous debut was the second. This one represents the last piece of the trilogy.

I have to say, I was pretty lucky to be turned on to these three records at such an early age. While my parents had a bunch of other records (not a huge collection, but a varied selection), these were the ones I was drawn to, from as early as I can remember. I spent my youngest years listening to Elvis records, and though that's technically my earliest memory of hearing rock music, it was these three albums that I continued to listen to as I grew older. And I'll always have 'em.

Hendrix, along with The Doors, was initially too much for my prepubescent mind to handle. While The Beatles were easy to enjoy (the fact that Hey Jude was a compilation containing some of their early material helped), Hendrix and The Doors were obviously a part of something I had no understanding of. The first time I heard "The End" by The Doors, it startled me, enough so that I didn't listen to the LP (or at least that song) for a while after that. With The Jimi Hendrix Experience, it was a complete overload.

I remember being very young and seeing the LP cover for Are You Experienced every time it found it's way to the front of our horizontal, steel record rack, staring hard at me whenever I walked past it. Between the afros, the confusing outfits, and the fish-eye lens used to take the famous portrait on the front, it scared the shit out of me. I mean, it really creeped me out. I remember asking my mom what it sounded like, if she thought I would like it. She told me it would probably be too loud for me, or something to that effect. I was probably seven, maybe younger. I was feeling brave. I strapped the huge, cover-your-whole-ears Pioneer headphones on, and told her I was ready.

As soon as the first crunch of "Purple Haze" struck my ears, I realized I wasn't ready. It was like I wasn't able to process it, or didn't want to. I'm not trying to mystify Hendrix more than he already has been here; this is just what happened. I left the record on the shelf for years after that.

But, of course, like many young dudes, with my teen years fast approaching, the classic rock was right there waiting for me. (Do kids today still go through their Led Zeppelin phase? I'm so out of touch.) When I was finally ready to listen to Are You Experienced, I began to slowly understand it. And I began to love it. This is probably not my favorite Hendrix record, but it will always be "special" to me in a way that very few records are. I understand why it initially scared me ("Purple Haze" is quite jarring in the opening), and I understand fully why I wrapped myself up in it in my teen years ("May This Be Love" is arguably one of the most beautiful songs in the history of rock music).

People will always remember this record for "Purple Haze" and the few other classic rock radio staples, but it's the deeper cuts here that are the most mind-blowing. "I Don't Live Today" is incredible in both its scope and simplicity. "Third Stone from the Sun" is so far ahead of its time that it could have easily been a hit 25 or 30 years later.

There's not much to say about an album like this that hasn't already been said, so I'll leave it at that. I pray that you listened to this in your teenage years. It's really the best time for it. I still love this record, but when I was 14–holy crap.

"Hey Joe"/"Purple Haze"

The Doors - Golden Album (LP, 1968)

I'm doing this one out of chronological order because it's a crazy oddity, and I'm not sure of the date on it.

This is another one of those weird Japanese bootlegs my dad picked up in Hong Kong during the Vietnam War. The cover says "Golden Album" on it, but the LP itself says "Golden Doors." I've been trying to find original copies of this online, and all I can come up with are versions like this one, where it's a 5-song, 33rpm 7". The one I have is a full album on a 12", and it's comprised solely of songs from the first three Doors LPs (hence the 1968 date I'm estimating).

So, not much to say about the music, though I guess it could have been a slightly more listener-friendly best-of. "The End" closes side one, "When the Music's Over" closes side two, and there's five songs on each side other than those. They're not in any sort of discernible order, but there's no glaring omissions, with the possible exception of "Moonlight Drive," which could have replaced "Back Door Man" as a more "radio" type song. Other than that, all the hits are here.

Semi-comical misspellings on the LP labels:

"Hellow I Love You"
"The Unknow Soldier"
"Ligeht My Fire"

And, from the lyrics to "The Crystal Ship" on the back, where the original line is "I'll drop a line": "I'll trap a ride."

Good stuff.

"The Crystal Ship"

The Doors - The Soft Parade (CD, 1969)

Definitely the oddball in The Doors' catalog, this record is a diversion for a few reasons: First, the arrangements are noticeably larger, with horns and strings playing a big part in the majority of the tracks. Second, Morrison's songwriting credits are fewer here than on any other record, with Krieger stepping up and delivering some really strong numbers.

So, you would think the album might be uneven and, given Krieger's past output, a bit sappy. Not the case. This is a divisive record for sure, with many people not agreeing with the switch from the group's signature sound. I find it incredibly compelling, a record that should stand alone, proudly, as some of The Doors' more experimental material, as well as providing some of their most memorable songs. Here we go:

"Tell All the People" makes it clear right off the bat: this is not The Doors you have come to know and love. The horns are big, the progression is very Manzarek-less (though you can hear his piano), and Morrison is aided by big background vocals for the first time. Compared to their previous work, this sounds absolutely huge. For me, it works.

"Touch Me" has never been one of my favorite Doors songs. I don't really care for the lyrics, and the arrangement is almost too much on this one. You can see what they were going for, and they nailed it, but the lyrics are some of the most cliched ones in the history of the band. Knowing that is was originally titled "Hit Me" makes it a little more interesting, but not much.

"Shaman's Blues" is the first Morrison composition on the record, and the musicians are pared down considerably from the first two tracks. It's got a terrific haunting groove, and lyrics that work perfectly with the vibe of the song. Morrison's ad-libs at the end are also a lot of fun ("Optical promise" was always a favorite of mine).

"Do It" is the one song on the record credited to both Morrison and Krieger, and it does sound like a solid mix of the two. The song is dark but intricate with the changes, and the lyrics, while fairly simple, seems to have some sort of ulterior motives that add some mystery to the song. It couples nicely with "Shaman's Blues."

"Easy Ride" was a song that I initially hated when I was young. It sounded like The Doors at a ho-down, and I hated to hear this peppy and jangly side of them. I've learned to love the song, especially the lyrics. This is Morrison in juxtaposition mode, singing about masks and black polished stone, over a standard country-ish groove. It's a lot cooler than I ever gave it credit for.

"Wild Child" is back to the pure Doors sound, seeming like it was left over from their previous record. This is ragged Morrison, sounding probably drunk and mostly crazy. He speaks softly in the bridge and then absolutely yelps at the end. It's a good one.

"Runnin' Blue" is, other than the undeniable title track, probably my favorite song on this record. The chorus is a little flighty, but it has some of the most powerful verse sections they ever laid down. And Krieger's guitar work, though overshadowed a bit by the wild sax, is fucking sweet. And, clearly, it's an ode to Otis Redding, which is doubly sweet.

"Wishful, Sinful" reminds me a lot of "Yes, The River Knows," though it's even more over the top, and even better. The buildup in this song is constructed perfectly, and when it peaks, the chorus really works, even though Morrison sounds noticeably haggard in sections. They really open up the arrangement on this one, so it can be a lot to handle, but I like it. It just sounds very Soft Parade.

"The Soft Parade" is a beast, a song that jumps between tempos and styles while still maintaining a cohesive feel. To me, this is Morrison close to his peak, lyrically and melodically. There is no other way this record could have been closed as effectively. When he sings the "Welcome to the Soft Parade" lyric in the middle of this track, it gives me the good shivers. And I always thought the "Successful hills are here to stay" was a great line.

This was, for a long time, my favorite Doors record. But, when it comes down to it, I think I have to give it up to the next one...

"The Soft Parade"

The Doors - Waiting For The Sun (CD, LP, 1968)

Once you get past the first two songs on this one, it's flawless. I think some folks may not consider this one of the Doors' stronger albums, but that's tough to back up. The only real beef most Doors fans have with this one is that is was supposed to include the oft-fabled "Celebration of the Lizard," and instead you get one small part of it and the lyrics on the inside, which is just a tease. Sure, it would eventually show up on "Absolutely Live," but we never got a proper studio version. Anywho, I love the shit out of this record. I have listened to the second side of this one more times than I care to admit. Let's do it:

"Hello I Love You" is a strong candidate for worst Doors song. It sounds like nothing the band had ever done previously or would ever do again. On certain bootlegs you can hear Manzarek singing it because Morrison refused. And he was the one who wrote it. Yikes.

"Love Street" is a fine song, I guess, but I've never liked it. It seems lazy, and I always thought the lyrics were pretty weak for a Morrison composition. And the piano part makes the entire vibe just way too happy. Though it doesn't end up being a particularly happy song, but that "so far" tacked on at the end always struck me as obvious and corny.

"Not to Touch the Earth" gets us back into Doors-worthy quality. This is the only piece of "Celebration of the Lizard" offered here, and if this is all we get, it's much better than nothing. Manzarek's keyboards are steady and somehow manage to sound insane, and Krieger mirrors it with nutty guitar work that pluck and hammers and works perfectly. The breaks are many, and when they kick back in, the force increases every time. I've never grown sick of this tune.

"Summer's Almost Gone" is an old song, one that shows up in much worse form on some of their early demo recordings. Maybe this seems lackluster to some folks, but I've always really liked the layered pianos and Morrison's easy but sincere approach to the vocals.

It's followed (sensibly, I suppose) by "Wintertime Love," a song that I had a hard time getting into in my youth because I was obsessed with the darker material. I don't want to look it up right now, but this has got to be a Krieger composition. The lyrics are way too basic and the melody way too lilting. Still, it's nice and short, and Morrison fills it out well with deeper register in his crystal clear vocals.

"The Unknown Soldier" wraps up the first side. It's a cool idea, and really a pretty great song, but I'm not a huge fan of this song anymore. Seeing them do it live (on VHS) was a hoot for me when I was a kid, but now I just look forward to the throttling vamp at the end, and often don't have the patience to wait for it.

"Spanish Caravan" begins the second side, and it's a song that blew my mind when I was young. It did nothing less than convince me that Krieger was a full-blown guitar virtuoso, a man who could handle any style of music. He still sounds great on it, and so does Morrison. A really odd and fantastic song for them.

I could see people pegging "My Wild Love" as being self-indulgent and sort of indicative of Morrison's shamanistic obsessions, but I've never thought of it that way. I think the lyrics are great, the backing tracks are well thought out and reflective of the vibe of the tune, and the "she screams like a bird" line is fucking fantastic. Love it.

"We Could Be So Good Together" is a little "Hello I Love You" sounding, but it's better. Not the group's strongest composition, but I never skip it. It fits in great on what, as I've said, I consider a strong side two. Krieger goes a little nuts on his solo and you don't really see it coming.

"Yes, The River Knows" is about the most delicate song the band ever did. I could see some people being turned off by the lite-ness of it all, but I'm pretty sure it's, in the end, about drowning. And I think the melody is strong as shit.

When I read that Jim Morrison was falling-down drunk when the group recorded this song, it all made a lot more sense to me. Rarely has he sounded so out of his mind on a studio recording. It makes for a great song, and, particularly in the second verse, his slurring just adds to the build of the eventual chaos. I always think I'm getting sick of this song, then I listen to it and realize I think it's fantastic. Morrison's rambling at the beginning and the end are priceless.

"See, I've got to go out in this car with these people and..."

"Not To Touch The Earth"

The Doors - Strange Days (CD, 1967)

Ah, the days when a band would release their sophomore album nine months after their debut. Truly a great time to have been a music fan. Or so I imagine.

Though this album contains song that didn't make the cut on the first one, it's by no means a glorified b-sides compilation rushed out to capitalize on the success of "Light My Fire." Strange Days is an album unto itself, and quite a good one. It makes for a great companion to their debut, a sort of extended introduction to the band. Let's break 'er down:

"Strange Days" is the group at their most psychedelic, one of the only songs that features their instruments muddying together and not really working as separate, distinct parts. It sounds a little crowded as a result, but the lyrics are great and it's a good one to kick the album off with.

"You're Lost Little Girl" is a sullen and ostensibly sensitive song, though Morrison's lyrics seem almost sarcastic in a way. Maybe that's just me being pessimistic. Krieger's guitar solo is fantastic.

I always forget that "Love Me Two Times" is from this record. For some reason I always picture it being later in their career. This is a fine song, though not one of my favorites in the Doors catalog. Maybe I've heard it too many times. Or maybe the lyrics seem a bit trite to me. Odd for its very bass-y sounding bass.

"Unhappy Girl" is easily the Doors' album track that I've listened to the least in my life. It never made it onto any random collections or best-ofs (which I hit pretty hard in my youth), and it's one of those songs that is so short and so unmemorable that I guess it just got lost in the shuffle for me. The only song of theirs I can say that about, and the only song on this record that does sound like a b-side.

"Horse Latitudes" is awesome just for how bold it was for them to record it and put it on an album in the first place. It's short enough to not seem intrusive, and whatever they did to get those sounds is pretty sweet. The screams at the end that fade out are still enough to creep me out.

"Moonlight Drive" will always be remembered as the song Morrison sang to Manzarek on the beach that one fateful afternoon, but it should also be praised for being a great pop song with bizarre lyrics that meld perfectly with the eeriness of Krieger's slide guitar. I have always really loved this track.

"People Are Strange" keeps with the "strange" theme of the album, I suppose, and my only beef with it has always been that it's too short. It's a great song with a really striking melody, and I always thought they should have drawn it out a little bit more. At just over two minutes, it comes and goes really quick. Oh, how a teenage boy can convince himself he identifies with these lyrics perfectly...

"My Eyes Have Seen You" reminds me a bit of some of the more lackluster tracks on the first record, but when it picks up steam, it becomes a strangely forceful little number. Listen to it on headphones and you can really hear how much weird shit Krieger it doing to add depth to the relatively simple verses.

"I Can't See Your Face In My Mind" has always been a great Doors mixtape song for me, and I think it still would be. The meaning of the song is a little hazy, the lyrics get dark and then nicely confusing, and Morrison sounds sublimely tired during the whole thing. Great song that wouldn't have worked as well on any other album.

"When the Music's Over" always get compared to "The End," and while they're similar in length and their middle sections both have what seems to be stretched sections of Morrison free-wheeling it, the songs are quite different. This one is much brighter from the beginning, and it maintains a somewhat celebratory (or at least revolutionary) air throughout. The build-up in the middle ("We want the world...") is semi-legendary, and with good reason. This was expanded in their live sets, and the anticipation that it brought out of the crowd was something that was filled with a great sort of nervousness. And, if you need a song to close a set with, this is a good one. I've never had a problem listening to this one all the way through, as it is filled with wisely placed peaks and valleys that make sure the song keeps moving.

So, yes, another great one. I always love listening to the Doors in headphones. Their early recordings utilize very few tracks, and it's fun to hear what each one of them is doing.

"I Can't See Your Face In My Mind"

The Doors - The Doors (LP, CD, 1967)

I mentioned in my Beatles Hey Jude post that there were three LPs that shaped the way I initially viewed rock music from an early age. This is the second one we're getting to, and it's arguably the most important, definitely the most influential.

I need to preface our run through the superb Doors catalog with some candid asides:

First off, I love The Doors. If you're one of those people who hates them, that's fine. It's none of my business. But admit it in conversation, and you risk some silent but harsh judgment from me as I try to decide if you're lazy or just stupid.

Second, my early teenage years were spent absolutely immersed in this band. It was the only music that really mattered to me. I listened to plenty of other shit, but The Doors and Jim Morrison were always placed on their own pedestal. I found out later I wasn't alone in this; in fact, it's a pretty common rite of passage. But when you're into The Doors, you feel like nobody ever "got it" like you did.

Third, I am unrelenting on my opinions of this band. Prepare for me to praise all of their albums way too much.

Fourth, I am not sure if I have a copy of Absolutely Live on CD or LP. That could be a problem. I'll see if I can get one before we come to it. I may just write about it anyway. You have no way of knowing what I actually own.

Also, please watch this for reference. Alright.

The Doors' eponymous debut is a legendary record, one of the most celebrated LPs of the 60's, and with good reason. You already know all there is to know about "Light My Fire," so we'll mostly skip that. The depth in this record is in the songs that surrounded it. Fuck it. Let's track-by-track it.

"Break on Through (To the Other Side)" was strangely released as the band's first single, and though it's a tremendous track, I'm not sure who thought it would have hit potential. It's still a great song, and if you listen to any of the live stuff from later in their career, it's really interesting to see how the song evolved into a more groove-oriented number.

"Soul Kitchen" has always been, for my money, one of the most underrated Doors songs. (Not that it doesn't get recognized plenty, it's just often overshadowed.) The lyrics are fantastic: "Your fingers weave quick minarets/Speak in secret alphabets/I light another cigarette/Learn to forget." And, it's a great example of how vital Ray Manzarek was to this band.

It's between that one and "The Crystal Ship" for my favorite song on this record. Most days, I think I'd have to give the nod to "The Crystal Ship." It's classic Doors eeriness, coupled with lyrics that used to haunt me in my sleep. And the melody is much more complicated than it seems. A really smart song.

"Twentieth Century Fox" has actually grown on me over time. It seemed like filler and very "un-Doors-like" to me for a long time, but I realized I was hung up on what seemed like corny wordplay in the chorus. The lyrics aren't mind-blowing, considering what Morrison was capable of, but it's a solid song.

"Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)" is fun the first three thousand times you hear it. I finally sort of grew tired of it a few years ago. An interesting song to cover, but sort of an odd one out in the Doors catalog. I guess I prefer their original material...

"Light My Fire" is the song most often associated with the band, and I've just heard it way too many times. I could hum all the solos for you in the long version. So, that's sad, I suppose.

"Back Door Man" is another cover, but Morrison's guttural growling on it made it seem like a real Doors song. Feeding off the obvious sexual connotations, this is a song that showed the Doors really working as musicians, building to precipice and letting Morrison just wail it out to relieve the pressure. I never tire of this one.

"I Looked At You" is a song that I always pictured the band writing in haste to appease some label guy who was looking for something for the teenybopper set. This song is only notable for being the Doors' laziest composition. But it's short.

"End of the Night" is a dark creeper, a song that features Morrison in full-on prose mode. It's structurally strange as well, never really deciding on a proper chorus or verse. The lyrics are great, and if you pay close attention to what Robby Krieger's doing on the guitar, it's impressive.

"Take It As It Comes" is almost in the same league as "I Looked At You," but it gives the musicians more room to spread out and ends up being a stronger song. The lyrics are a bit generic for my taste, and the "specialize in having fun" line always struck me as awkward at best.

I bet I wasn't even ten the first time I heard "The End." I had no idea what the hell was happening, and probably was wondering why the song was so damn long. I've learned to love this song, and I don't know what it is, but I've always felt this was one of Morrison's standout vocal performances. When he comes in in the beginning, he just sounds flawless. People love to clown this song, and that's fine, but if you consider the year this came out, the content and length of the song, and the fact that people reference every line from it, you have to admit it's an indelible performance. I also think it's some of John Densmore's best work, and a bold way to end a debut album.

If you're 17, get stoned and listen to this on headphones. Really, you owe it to yourself.

"Break On Through (To The Other Side)"