I’d always heard John McLaughlin was a great guitarist. I’d never thought about spending any money to find out just how good he was. I just sort of accepted that and went on with my life, unaware.

Then I saw this album in a donations bin at a charity that gave away free books and records to teachers and other non-profit folks. So I went for it, took it home and invested time where I had not been willing to invest money.

Therefore, this album is priceless to me. It’s 52 minutes of incredible acoustic performances. McLaughlin plays an amazing set, and the classical Indian flavor throughout was completely novel to me at the time. Even after nearly a decade of watching Bollywood, I still find this album to be electrifying and uplifting with each listen. It’s easily a 10 out of 10. If I had to go to a desert island that forbade rock and roll, I’d take this album. I strongly encourage any fan of virtuoso guitar performances to check this out.

Look Into the Future was Journey’s second studio release, and it’s amazing how great they sound without Steve Perry. From 1975-1977, Journey’s style blended prog-rock, fusion, and hard rock in an expert blend. Gregg Rolie served as their vocalist. While he’s not a Perry tenor, his vocals are earthier, more rocking. Perry’s got a great set of pipes, but he’s a balladeer, not a rocker. This album, therefore, is a rocker because it has 0% Steve Perry.

You won’t hear any of these songs sung on Glee, except maybe Journey’s cover of “It’s All Too Much,” but I doubt New Directions would use Journey’s arrangement. As a Beatles cover, I like it. It’s a fresh take on the song and Rolie’s keyboards work great with Schon’s guitar, just as they did back on Santana’s third album. It’s a great song for settling back into a comfy beanbag chair with headphones around your ears.

Oops, I missed the opening track, “On a Saturday Nite.” It’s not a special song, but it’s competently done. I like second track better, as well as the third one, the progressive, droning “Anyway.” Hearing that song makes it very easy for me to believe these guys called San Francisco home. It’s very moody, but retains a certain laid-back quality in spite of the tension of the vocal and guitar part. It’s hard to explain or categorize, so I guess that’s why I enjoy it.

I didn’t enjoy “She Makes Me (Feel Alright).” It was needlessly profane and I skip past it. It’s totally not in the same character as the rest of the album, so my guess is that the band put it on their because their manager told them a song about sex sells. Let this be a lesson to anyone else that’s looking to make money: if the price of success is your soul, you didn’t really succeed.

Side two kicks off with “You’re on Your Own,” a complicated rocker that’s back in the spirit of the rest of the album. It switches time signatures around deftly, so it’s one for those of you in the Math Rock crowd. I love Schon’s spiraling downward rhythm guitar along with Rolie’s Hammond Organ solo in the middle, followed by a real firecracker from Schon.

I should mention also that I absolutely love Aynsley Dunbar’s drumming and Ross Valory’s bass playing. These guys were a solid rhythm pair and help make this album a great one.

Next up is the title track, “Look Into the Future.” It’s a ballad, but not in a sappy, teenage heartbeat sort of way. It’s heartfelt, it puts the instruments up at the front, and the bluesy, heavy rock is first class. It’s a lot like a really good Kansas song with vocals that growl instead of soar, if that’s any help. At 8:10, this song is the album’s longest, but it delivers all the way through.

The last two songs, “Midnight Dreamer” and “I’m Gonna Leave You,” go great together. The first one rocks out for the first minute in a way that neatly dovetails with the title track. After that, it’s four minutes of fusion jamming that plays beautifully, featuring Rolie on a lovely electric piano solo that segues into a synthesizer, followed by Schon’s top-drawer playing. The last song picks up where “Midnight Dreamer” ends, growling and rumbling its way to a hard rock finish.

I just gotta love this platter’s second half, no question. On my 1-10 scale, this second release from Journey is a good 7. It could have been better, sure, but I always have fun with it.

Wait, what? Led Zeppelin on a Monday review? You’re gonna slag a Zep album? What is with you, Webb? Are you mental? This is LED ZEPPELIN, how can you pan them?

This is The Song Remains the Same, the proof of concept for Dread Zeppelin, which performs Zeppelin numbers performed in a reggae style with an Elvis Presley impersonator on vocals. Listen to “Whole Lotta Love” on this set and you’ll be amazed at how much Led Zeppelin themselves sound like an Elvis impersonator fronting a reggae group. While it works for the novelty group, I can’t cut the big bad Zep any slack for not sounding like themselves.

The whole performance was plagued with sloppiness and a lack of Page’s ability to play more than one guitar, which meant the live versions of songs lacked a lot of the punch they had in the studio. It’s not like this was a particularly poor concert, either. This was typical of the band. I’ve heard the bootlegs, and this is representative of the lot. It’s not to say the whole album is terrible and unlistenable: it’s to say that it’s not up to snuff, relative to other Zeppelin material.

When I was a kid, I remember watching the movie and almost falling asleep during “Dazed and Confused.” I can do that again now. After a heavy meal, I *will* fall to sleep during that song and “No Quarter.” It can’t be helped: the excitement really isn’t there. “Celebration Day” is a welcome relief of energy and the gem in this big ol’ lump of coal.

You want a good concert? Deep Purple, my friends. Deep Purple. Those guys knocked it out of the ballpark nearly every time they came up to bat. I think I know why, too. They weren’t as strung out on drugs as lots of other bands of the day.

I discovered this when I listened to a Black Sabbath 1972 bootleg right after a Grateful Dead live album. Aside from a few riffs from their hits, the Sabs sounded just like the hippy-trippy Grateful Dead. I concluded they must have all been doing the same drugs. Zeppelin seems to have hit the same goofball jar because they get really, really indulgent here. There’s no jazz-blues improvisation on this album, so Zep didn’t hit the goofballs as hard as Sabbath or the Dead, but they’re definitely on some sort of performance-diminishing substances.

Deep Purple aren’t the only guys from the 70s that did their best to give the people what they paid for. Rory Gallagher, Foghat, Pat Travers, Robin Trower, and The Who could all blow away the competition with their live sets. If I get wind of one of their live sets somewhere, color me interested. I can take the Grateful Dead live on their Europe ’72 album in small doses and Sabbath delivers solid, heavy rock starting in 1980, when Dio stepped up to the mike stand. I love Zeppelin in the studio, but I’ve learned that if I want that same hard rock sound to continue, I need to avoid their live stuff.

I still have the album on vinyl, but I have felt no compulsion whatsoever to back it up on CD or in a digital release. I’m a huge Led Zeppelin fan: my first album was Atlantic SD 19129, commonly known as “Zoso” or “Led Zeppelin IV”, but is actually without any real title. I bought all the Zeppelin albums before I branched off into other groups. Of all the Zep I bought, this one is the album that made me wish they hadn’t done it, so I wouldn’t have bought it.

I like only one song off of it, but the others aren’t unbearable. They just don’t excite me. They could have done much, much better. It’s a 5 out of 10, and I’m sticking with that rating.

Sheila Chandra first came on the music scene with the Indian-influenced pop song, “Ever So Lonely.” Most of her work, however, isn’t pop. It’s experimental, but in an amazing way. That’s where Quiet comes in.

As a vocalist, Chandra delivers a very pleasing abstract performance on this album. She uses much of India’s “language of the drum” for her vocals, lending them a joyous percussive quality. The whole album through is an ambient soundscape and it works wonderfully as such. There’s not much more to say other than it’s beautiful, intriguing, and well worth the expenditure.

It’s not a vital part of my collection, but it’s a solid 8 out of 10 and I love having it for quiet, reflective times.

I’m not the biggest Aerosmith fan on the planet, but I do enjoy a good guitar album where I can find it. Rocks is a good guitar album, so I enjoy it. Of all the Aerosmith releases, it’s the one I like the most. I can get into most of the songs and it’s got some great hooks.

“Lick and a Promise” and “Rats in the Cellar” are my two favorite tracks off the LP. “Sick as a Dog” is another deep cut that really does it for me. The two lead tracks and Classic Rock staples, “Back in the Saddle” and “Last Child” aren’t too shabby, either. The only song I simply can’t take in large doses is the ballad at the end, “Home Tonight.” I choose to live my life without that song, and I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.

Overall, this is a fun album, but I don’t find it as compelling as other discs in my collection. Yeah, it’s fun, and I like it, but if I had to choose between saving this album and, say, a Tommy Bolin LP from a burning building, you’d be roasting your marshmallows with Aerosmith-fueled flames. Sorry, that’s just the way it is.

If I was a die-hard Aerosmith fan, I’d give this a 10 because it is the best album the band produced. If you find yourself in the situation of being a die-hard member of the Blue Army, then you are a sham if you do not yet own this album. Forgive me, though, for giving this a solid 7 out of 10, because I’m not a huge fan of Aerosmith. This is a solid piece of work, no question about it. It’s great rock and has been influential for a big wave of rock acts that followed in Aerosmith’s footsteps. It’s just that I find Aerosmith to be formulaic and although the formula is at its best on this release, a formula is still a formula.

In 1974, Blue Öyster Cult released their third studio album, Secret Treaties. I’m reviewing it tonight because it’s got a song about New Year’s Eve. Which one? Well, there’s a story there…

A friend of mine once said, “Never read or pay too much attention to the lyrics of a Blue Öyster Cult song.” He was right. It’s best not to look too closely at the soft white underbelly of a BÖC song. They tend to… disturb… so I’ll let the seasonal reference pass since it might cause a listener to listen too closely to the song in question and then become… disturbed…

Early BÖC was all about science fiction, and this album delivers. It’s highly creative and inspiring in its own right. Two of the songs from this album (three if you count the reissue CD) have inspired short stories of mine, so I’ve got a candle burning for you, BÖC. You could say this album can really take me away. (Real BÖC fans are probably grinning from behind their sunglasses thinking about what it must have been like, back when it was past midnight in 1964…)

So enough of the inside references, I promise. This is Heavy Metal Rock and Roll, 1974 vintage. These guys don’t sing about girls and cars: they sing about ghouls and ME 262s. l listen to the regular album all the way through, but the bonus tracks on the remastered CD aren’t all winners. Since I originally bought the vinyl for the original 8 songs, I give it a 10, especially for “Astronomy,” the epic closer of the album. Originally, I thought about giving it a 9 because “ME 262” wasn’t long enough, but forgave them when I remembered I’ve got an extended live version from another album, On Your Feet or on Your Knees.

I’m telling you, kids, this is real Heavy Metal. The album titles don’t lie. Not all the tracks on Secret Treaties are high-velocity slammers, but the pacing works for the album and really sets a mood with expertise. It’s one of their finest releases and should be part of any serious rock fan’s collection.

I started listening to this album to get ready to review it and I’m now on my third time through it for the day, taking in the soaring guitar solo on “Something’s Comin’ Our Way,” the last track on side one. Oh man, forget Guitar Hero or any of that video game nonsense. Get a REAL guitar and try and match the notes in this brain-melting solo.

This album’s perfect. It’s got a 10. I don’t skip anything on it because I’ve got to hear every single note on this platter. Why rate it at the beginning of the review after discussing just one song in the middle? It’s in the style of the album. Frank Marino and Mahogany Rush meant no-nonsense Rock and Roll. So why piddle around with a lot of metaphors and junk like that? This is Rock with a capital R, at its very finest.

Oh man, that solo… GO FRANK GO!!! The rest of the band is in top form on this album and it’s a non-stop invitation to get into a hot rod and let the right foot just take over and do what it does best.

That’s if you got the vinyl or the CD version with bonus tracks. If you see an offer to buy the CD made by the Black Rose label, avoid it at all costs. The sound is terrible on that. Me, I got my MP3s ripped from vinyl and they sound delicious.

This is a guitar lover’s album. If you’re some kid combing his hair over half his face in skinny jeans thinking you know a thing or two about making noise because you own a Led Zeppelin shirt, you need to hear this album and recalibrate your perception of the world accordingly, particularly in the music department. You could lose the hairstyle and clothing next, adopting the flannel ‘n’ jeans combo popular among the guitar heroes of the late 1970s. Then you’d have no excuse but to learn how to play that axe and make it cry and scream.

And you could do so much worse than to have Frank Marino as your Guitar God. You could also do so much worse than to learn what Heavy Metal used to be by listening to this disc. I’m sick of cookie monsters and shriekers with monotonous rhythm sections. Metal used to mean big, tough music that sounded great as it made your ears bleed and killed your lawn. Now Metal mostly just upsets parents because they expected their kids to have better taste than that. Frank Marino is no poser in makeup and hairspray. He does his own singing, but he lets his guitar do the talking.

Hang on just a minute… I’m in the long jam that starts four minutes into “Loved By You.” Be right back after I’m done respecting the music. Oh yeah, Frank, make that guitar earn its paycheck…

All right, I’m back for a while… but I’m going to have to check out before the powerhouse double shot of “Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame” and a cover of Bo Diddley’s “Mona” closes out the album’s set list… and that’s what it seems like. This doesn’t sound like it took a bunch of takes to get things right. What’s Next plays straight through, like the band showed up in the studio, played a 43-minute concert, and then packed up and went home. It feels like a live show in its intensity, connection with the audience, and even acoustic qualities. It’s loud, brash, and a sample of what real Metal should sound like.

And I’m going to start it over again when I’m done with this review so I can hear that opening blast of “You Got Livin'” one more time today. That’s an anthem for life, I’m telling you.

When you’re done listening to the album and through thanking me for the hot tip, you’ll be able to understand why I put so little stock in “Top (x) of All Time” lists. Rolling Stone’s list of 100 fancy banjo players doesn’t mention Marino at all. It’s got guitarists famous for being dead or for being in bands with famous singers on the list that Marino could wipe the floor with. Whatever. Marino’s the real deal and What’s Next is perhaps his strongest album in his discography.

Time to start it over, now. Do yourself a favor and get this album. You’re welcome and Rolling Stone can take a hike.

Wednesday’s child has far to go, so Wednesday reviews should be for music from parts both far and wide. Today’s Wide World of Music casts some sunshine on Brazil’s Bossacucanova and their excellent release, Brasilidade.

Bossacucanova collaborated with one of the founders of the Bossa Nova sound, Roberto Menescal, to revisit 12 classics of the Bossa Nova’s heyday in the late 60s. Although the songs are familiar, they receive some new arrangements and the occasional updated percussion dance beat to renew them for the 21st century.

I like the whole album. It’s jaunty, warm, and smooth going like a glass of fresh mango juice. It kicks off with “Telefone,” a comic tune that’s perfect for wrangling your way out of a crowded parking lot or pulling out into a busy street. It’s the streets of São Paulo pouring out of my speakers! The mood kicks back for “Nana” before getting into a great, rich, strong vocal in “Rio” that’s straight out of Brasil ’66’s playbook.

Next up is the clever samba, “Guanabara.” I close my eyes when I hear this track and I find myself wearing an ice cream suit with a white fedora, somewhere near the coast of Bahia. It’s tropical perfection, no two ways about it. We then arrive at the classic, “Agua de Beber,” which Bossacucanova bring to a new-

OK, I hear you interrupting me… am I writing a review or liner notes? I guess I *do* love the album that much. It’s great for chilling out, driving around, trying to forget the winter, or getting in the mood to have some summer fun. Other reviewers have said pretty much the same. It’s upbeat, uptempo, and uptown.

I suppose one could criticize it if one was a curmudgeon or some punk kid that can’t get into any music that doesn’t curse a swear within 20 seconds of the beginning of a song. But I’m writing my reviews for people with good taste in tunes, so fie on those nay-sayers that believe music shouldn’t be happy or fun. This is a party on a plastic platter, people.

Take my strong recommendation and find out how cool the other tracks are on this album. I give it a 10 out of 10 because if I accidentally grabbed this CD on my way to the desert island instead of Machine Head, I wouldn’t be disappointed in the least.

Tuesdays should be for second albums, the infamous sophomore efforts that either hope to avoid the mistakes of first albums or meet the standards set on the first release. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Second Helping seemed as good a place to start with that theme, given its name and what-not. It’s also a great rocker of an album.

I’m going to say that I love all the songs on this album, save one, “The Ballad of Curtis Loew.” I never got into it when I was a kid and I never grew warm to it after a few attempts to “get it” since then. In over 25 years of ownership, I’ve never gotten to where I like that song. I don’t necessarily hate it, either, so it’s not really a drag on the whole album. It’s just a song I skip and I want you all to know up front that it’s going to affect my final score for the album. I can’t give it a perfect 10 if there’s something on it that I don’t like in some form or fashion and that’s that.

With that difficult bit out of the way, let me focus on the other seven songs. The album opens with a KFC commercial… I have to say I HATE KFC for taking that great anthem, “Sweet Home Alabama,” and turning it into a vehicle for the sales of its fried chicken which, truth be told, I find inferior to Golden Chick, Popeye’s, and Church’s. “Sweet Home Alabama” is a perfect answer song to Neil Young’s “Southern Man,” but it stands on its own merits as a guitar army anthem. Fun fact: Neil Young and Ronnie Van Zant were good friends and Van Zant wears a Neil Young t-shirt on the cover of Skynyrd’s third album, Nuthin’ Fancy.

“Sweet Home Alabama” is as necessary to a classic rock playlist as watts are to a radio station. If you want to hear it for yourself, find a classic rock station and wait about half an hour. You’ll hear it. For me, I my 10th grade Chemistry class seatmate Amy Etheridge… whenever the teacher was done for the day and retired to the supply room, we’d enjoy our free time by cranking up our air guitars and opening with “Sweet Home Alabama.” We’d sing those great chords and then, “Toin it up…” Good times. No way can I be objective about this one, so lucky for me it’s one of rock’s great tracks.

“I Need You” follows up with a deep, bluesy feel. It’s rich in emotion and pain and should be an object lesson to all young punks getting started these days: you can communicate your pain without having to scream. You don’t have to not play your instruments, either, so get back to the garage and practice some more.

How about the fun of “Don’t Ask Me No Questions?” Like “Gimme Three Steps” from their first answer, this one’s a great uptempo number with a smart lyric. It leads perfectly into “Workin’ for MCA” which ironically discusses the very topics the band distanced themselves from in “Don’t Ask Me No Questions.” Controversy, amirite? No, it’s rock and roll not taking itself very seriously, and that’s the best way to take it. The pair are a great couple and the guitar work is top-notch. When you get three guitarists that know what they’re doing, it makes for a great sound, let me tell you what.

Side two opens with… no, I skip that one… it opens – for me – with “Swamp Music.” This is what I call a deep cut. It doesn’t get much airplay, but since I don’t listen to the radio anymore, I can track it up on my MP3 playlists as often as I’d like and this one gets heavy rotation on my PC. The bass line does it for me on this track. It propels the popcorn guitar and drums on down the road like a pickup going over a dirt road somewhere in the pine trees… Not gonna lie, I get red dirt in my mouth when I play this song. I can practically smell the bait shack when this song is going. If you’re city folks that cain’t understand th’ country, then perhaps you best not mess with this one. Just head th’ tuther way and as you keep walkin’, you can wonder what “tuther” means. For those of us what understands “tuther,” we’re gonna enjoy this song, hear?

“The Needle and the Spoon,” ironically co-written by Allen Collins, whose drug abuse problems dogged him all his life, right up to when he had to be wheeled out on stage, paralyzed from the waist down and unable to play guitar, just before “That Smell” so he could address the audience about the danger of drug abuse as part of his plea-bargain for a vehicular manslaughter charge. Sadly, Collins turns in a great guitar line on what forms part of the epitaph of his life.

The album closes with a rousing southern-fried rendition of JJ Cale’s “Call Me the Breeze.” This is a song made for guitars to rock in unison to. It’s a great driving song, to boot. Solid rhythm, fun singalong lyrics, and awesome fills. It’s not for the interstate, with its straight, unimaginative flatness. It’s for the state highway, wending its way from town to town. Heck, even if you’re stuck in traffic, it’s a great song to have with you unlike some real racers that only frustrate at the stop lights and school zones. “Call Me the Breeze” is great any time, any where, and in any weather conditions – should be particularly ironic during a hurricane, now that I think about it.

In Second Helping, Skynyrd delivered on the promise of their Pronounced album. “Free Bird” and “Simple Man” find their matches in enduring enjoyability in “Sweet Home Alabama” and “Call Me the Breeze.” I keep coming back to this album after all these years and I still have a great time with it. I suppose that’s why I like writing these retrospective album reviews – it’s long after the initial shock or thrill of the album has passed and I get to answer the question, “how well has it stood the test of time?” In the case of Second Helping, I’m up for thirds, if there’s any left. It gets a 9 out of 10 because there’s hardly anything not to love about it.