Monday, another day for disappointment in recordings… This week’s dirge deals with Ian Gillan Band’s Child in Time. The fact that I am NOT listening to any of its tracks as I write this is indicative of how poorly I think of it.

Ian Gillan, of course, is one of my favorite vocalists. I can forgive lots of things he’s done. But I just can’t listen to this album. I remember when I first got it. I thought it would be awesome, eardrum-busting rock and roll. What I got was poorly digested jazz-fusion. Stunned after my first listening, I tried it again. Same results. I left in on my shelf for a few years and tried it again once I had grown and my tastes in music had matured. Same results. I think I finally sold it back to a used record store and left it behind me forever.

Deep Purple’s version of the song “Child in Time” is a rock classic. IGB’s version is a jazz-fusion miscarriage. I remember how much Gillan’s vocals sounded like yowling cats on this record and that I really detested the lyrics on half the songs and didn’t care for the other half. I was so relieved when I discovered he went back to rock for his other solo work.

This album gets a 1 out of 10. It’s gone out of my life and I don’t want it back. I didn’t even bother with going to Amazon to listen to snippets of the songs to refresh my memory of it. I just looked at the wiki article on it, recognized the song titles, and the revulsion was as fresh as it was over 25 years ago.

Missed yesterday, so I’ll do two today and one has to be a record I hate on.

I’ll get the hate out of the way first.

John Cage. I do not like John Cage’s compositions. I do not like compositions inspired by relationships with John Cage. Other people are free to like his stuff, but if there’s a piece of experimental music that I totally abhor, chances are that John Cage was the composer or had influence on the composer. 1 out of 10 because his stuff makes my skin crawl.

Now for the stuff I like.

Scheherazade by Rimsky-Korsakov. It’s full of life, color, passion – and rhythm. It’s not long-hair music that makes you pass out from boredom. It’s great fun and loaded with imagination.

It’s also free: Peabody Institute has lots of their performances available for private use, so if you scroll down to the 2003-2004 season, you can get all four movements there. Enjoy!

Let it be known that I’m not a fan of country music as it exists today. When I think of country, I think of the Texas Outlaws of the 70s, among other classic acts like Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline. The Texas Outlaws were my first real venture into country that paid off, though, so I keep a special place for them, particularly Rusty Wier.

On Don’t It Make You Wanna Dance, Rusty delivered his best set from the 70s, at the height of the “Cosmic Cowboy” movement. It’s got a strong rock feel to it, but it’s still a country album. While Lynyrd Skynyrd were a country-flavored rock band, Rusty Wier delivered some rock-flavored country. There’s no fiddle or pedal steel guitar on this album. It’s for the Texas roadhouses, not the Hee Haw cameras.

The title track is an anthem to me. It was a moderately big hit when it came out, and was covered by many other country artists. It’s a great singalong and has a cool guitar solo in it, to boot. The next song, “I Believe in the Way That You Love Me,” is a fine ballad that’s not an exploration of sappiness.

“Trouble” comes next, and it’s got a great riff and is fun to rock to. The tempo then changes for the beautiful ballad, “Blue Haze.” My wife and I sing along with it every time we hear it. It’s a simple little tune, but it expresses a deep love that we understand more and more with each year of our marriage.

Side one climaxes with “Agua Dulce,” a deep cut that has made me travel to Agua Dulce, Texas just to see what kind of place deserved a mention in Mr. Wier’s song. The song is about waking up after a lost weekend in some place that was either godforsaken or part of a divine plan… no way to tell until you’ve lived some more… but it’s a great song about South Texas and the distances we can cover, both physically and emotionally. The end of the song is perfect for driving off into the sunset.

“Relief” finishes off the side in a funky, bluesy way. It’s musically sparse, and it makes sense that way. I like the lyrics on it and always enjoy the fine pickin’ at the end.

Side two runs as follows: “Sing Me,” “Sally Mae,” “I Heard You Been Layin’ My Old Lady,” “Tulsa Turnaround,” and “Cloudy Days.” The first two are upbeat songs about simple, honest love, full of energy and life. If I hadn’t of told you they were country songs, you’d swear they was rock and roll. So it went for the Cosmic Cowboys… they really blurred the line between the genres, back when the line between them was worth blurring.

“I Heard You Been Layin’ My Old Lady” is a guilty pleasure. It’s a country song for sure, because it’s all about dealing with a man that’s been cheatin’ on your wife. This one is full of wit, irony, and irreverent humor. It’s a song that convinces me that Rusty Wier was the Jim Rockford of country music. He doesn’t want to fight, but it’s important to get the truth out. From the chorus: Well I like you, Joe, but wives are hard to share…

I never totally caught on to “Tulsa Turnaround,” and I don’t think I will. It’s all right, but the amount of funk in it is out of place on the album. I’ll pass over it in favor of the final track, “Cloudy Days,” another great road tune that could as well have been sung by Kermit and Fozzie Bear for all its wide-eyed optimism. It’s good to have music like that, and I’m glad Rusty Wier sang it.

9 out of 10 because it’s a monumental album. Seek it out, young music-lovers!

Back in 1988, I thought I’d totally lucked out. I got a job writing for the Daily Texan, the UT-Austin student paper, and worked in the entertainment department. Instead of writing hard-hitting journalism pieces about the news of the day, I got to type in club listings for the weekend guide and do record reviews. That last part meant free vinyl.

One of the albums I scored as a review copy was Metallica’s …And Justice for All. I was so thrilled about it, since I really enjoyed Metallica’s previous work. I got it home, unwrapped it and…

Uh…

I got excited about it because I was supposed to be excited about it. I was a kid, I didn’t know what I was doing, really. The album rocked, but there was no bass to it. It sounded tinny most of the time. The rhythms were complicated and, frankly, distracting. “Shortest Straw” was really annoying. I remember hating that and I remember a bunch of friends getting after someone that said he liked that song. “One” was pretty cool, but took forever to get through. I gave the album an overall good review then, but…

I can’t stand by that anymore. It’s 22 years later and I have no intention of ripping it to MP3 or buying it on CD. I don’t even want to get a bootleg MP3 version of it. I don’t want to dust it off and relive old times with it. Reading over the track list, I feel a lot of “meh” towards it. I remember one of the songs had a stupid “Oh-Wee-Oh” part to it, but I can’t be bothered to try and find it.

So many people put this on their list of awesome albums, but I feel like that’s only because Metallica made it. If anyone else but Metallica had turned in a turgid collection of overly-long songs with poor production, it would have been consigned to the cut-out bin. To me, this album proves that Metallica’s been pretty much dead from the neck up since they lost Cliff Burton. I can’t really give this album any more than a 2 out of 10 since I could listen to it again if I had to, but I have absolutely no desire to do so. I only reviewed this album because it caught my eye in my collection and I remembered how I always regretted giving it a good review when I first got it.

Herb Alpert Presents Sérgio Mendes and Brasil ’66… the first album from Sérgio Mendes and Brasil ’66, hence the “presents” in the title. This album went platinum in the USA with the catchy opening track, “Mas Que Nada.” I can hear why, too. It’s a great vocal mix on top of a tight support band. Lani Hall’s vocals are amazing on this release and there’s much to recommend in Mendes’ arrangements and stylings.

Mendes’ style, of course is that of the lounge. It’s laid-back and easy-going. While some may deride him for not adopting an edge, I find Brasil ’66 to be perfect for unwinding and relaxing. Sure, I still like metal and hard rock, but there are times when my knees hurt or I just need to chill. For those times, I can turn to Mendes with regular reliability.

Rather than go through a song-by-song assessment of the album, let me just say the whole thing plays through marvelously and that I’ve played it over and over and over again many times. There are moments when Hall’s vocals just soar into my imagination, only to come back to earth in quiet stirrings. It’s a great, soft, comfortable set of songs and wears well with time. Electronica acts that dabble in lounge turn often to Mendes for inspiration and his original work stands up well in comparison with the modern remixes. Indeed, the remixes are done with loving respect for the old masters and for good reason. They’re fantastic.

Whenever I give an album a 10 out of 10, I have to ask myself, “Really? Is this really a 10, or am I just feeling a buzz from digging it out after a while?” This is a 10. I keep coming back to it and I savor each note, just like I do with other albums I score at 10 out of 10.

I had no idea this was Billy Squier’s second solo album. I thought it was his first. Turns out, it was his monster release that kinda overshadowed all his other work. It’s a monument of rock and shouldn’t be missed.

Don’t Say No got lots and lots of airplay. Yet, unlike a lot of other albums that got played a gazillion times on the radio, it remained fresh and listenable. Well, “The Stroke” kinda got old for me, but “Lonely Is the Night” won’t ever fade. “Too Daze Gone”, “In the Dark”, and “Don’t Say No” all rock out with consummate awesomeness. This is one of those great albums you can put on the playlist and repeat it for a day or two. Squier rules on this album.

9 out of 10 for this one. It’s a great and you young people are well advised to seek out the Squier.

I’m sick, it’s Monday, I need to do a disappointment review… Time for Grand Funk to face the music.

I don’t hate this album, but I really don’t like it. There are three OK songs on it, “Flight of the Phoenix,” “I Just Gotta Know,” and “Rock and Roll Soul.” I really like that last one, come to think of it. The other seven songs are not ones I enjoy. The band had just left Terry Knight’s management and decided to produce the album themselves. The result: a failed production.

They were lots better in the hands of other producers, which would later include Todd Rundgren, Jimmy Ienner, and Frank Zappa. The sound on this record is flat, the vocals often didn’t harmonize properly (a Funk problem on other songs, as I recall), and the music often turgid. Grand Funk’s Phoenix should have stayed in the ashes until a real producer came along. 3 out of 10: go find your 70s rock jollies elsewhere.