As a fan of a wide variety of popular (and not-so-popular) music from the 1950s (and sometimes even earlier) up through the present, one of my bucket list projects for years has been to put together a list of my 100 favorite songs of all time. At some point I decided that, once I got around to figuring that out, I could put it out on a blog, for the infinitesimally small proportion of the Internet world that might be interested. So, here we are. While the Top 100 will be a major focus, I also plan to post on a variety of other musical (and occasionally non-musical) topics, in which you may or may not be interested. (If a particular posting doesn’t ring your bell, you’re only a few clicks away from a dancing cat video on YouTube.)
Showing posts with label Favorite Best-Of Albums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Favorite Best-Of Albums. Show all posts
Folk-rocker Bruce Cockburn (COH-burn) is not particularly
well-known in the U.S., although “Wondering Where The Lions Are” was a modest
hit in 1980, and a couple other tracks got some FM radio airplay. He’s a much
bigger figure north of the border, where he’s a member of the Canadian Music
Hall Of Fame and has won numerous Juno awards (the Canadian equivalent of the
Grammies). While many of his self-written songs address political,
environmental, and social justice issues, many of his best efforts are more
personal in nature.
While this 18-track compilation only includes the beginning
of Cockburn’s still-active career – its full title is Waiting for a Miracle: Singles 1970-1987 – it does nicely cover the
period of his greatest success, especially in this country. (“If A Tree Falls”,
from 1989, is the only later song of his that I’m familiar with.)
The act for whom the term blue-eyed soul was
created got this comprehensive two-disk compilation, lovingly put together by Rhino
Records. Unlike other collections, it covers the duo’s entire history, across
four record labels. (Avoid, at all costs, any RB material from Curb Records, as
these are inferior re-recorded versions.)
Baritone Bill Medley and tenor Bobby Hatfield got their
start in the early 1960s on the Moonglow label. They had only modest success on
the charts, although “Little Latin Lupe Lu” (later turned into a big hit by
Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels) became a garage-band favorite, and their
live shows, many in largely Black Southern California clubs, were well-received.
They also nabbed a regular slot on the popular, although short-lived, musical
variety TV show Shindig!
The Brothers really broke through when legendary producer
Phil Spector caught one of their shows in 1964 and quickly signed them to his
Philles label. Their first single together, “You’ve
Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’”, topped the U.S. and U.K. charts and is regarded
by many as one of the greatest singles ever recorded; Rolling Stone included it
in its list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, and in 2015 it was added to
the Library of Congress’s National Recording Registry. Their second single, “Just
Once In My Life”, reached #9 on Billboard’s Hot 100 in the spring of 1965.
That summer, Philles released a third wall-of-sound classic,
“Hung On You”. To Spector’s great annoyance, however, DJs preferred the B-side
of the single, an album cut with a solo performance by Hatfield covering a
ballad from 10 years earlier. “Unchained Melody”, of course, became a big hit
in the summer of ‘65 and was later revived when it was featured in the 1990
movie Ghost. Spector had the duo
record another old song, “Ebb Tide”, for their last Philles hit, but lost
interest in the act and sold their contract to Verve records.
Medley and Hatfield struck immediate paydirt on their new
label, duplicating Spector’s sound without Spector on the #1 hit “(You’re My)
Soul And Inspiration”. While they put out some other great tracks on Verve over
the next few years, none of them came close to the top 10, and Medley left to
pursue a solo career in 1968.
The two reunited, for better or worse, in 1974, working with
the songwriting/production team of Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter. I well
remember my distaste for their comeback single, “Rock And Roll Heaven”, which Parke
Puterbaugh’s excellent liner notes in this anthology characterize as “a rather
saccharine ode to the deceased rock stars’ hall of fame.” (My English-major
college roommate was kind enough to supply the word “contrived” to sum up my
reaction.)
While the Brothers were justifiably best known for their
singing, Medley’s other skills are often ignored. He wrote or co-wrote much of
their material on Moonglow, including “Little Latin Lupe Lu”, as well as “Go Ahead
And Cry” from the Verve era. He also produced their Moonglow records and most
of their material on Verve, as well as their Philles albums, as Spector lived
for hit singles and couldn’t be bothered with LPs.
What? ANOTHER semi-obscure 1980s act from across the pond?
Sorry about that, but this really is a worthwhile
compilation. While the band had only one single that even reached the UK top 20,
it had better luck with its albums, 8 of which made the top 25. Unlike the Housemartins,
Prefab Sprout rarely ventured into politics. The 1992 edition of the Rolling Stone Album Guide characterizes
their mood as “one of refined impressionism: intelligent, clever, bittersweet,
romantic” while praising their “melodic pop, complex but irresistible.”
Songwriter Paddy McAloon is aptly characterized as “a cult figure with decent
sales, virtually no air play and truckloads of critical raves.”
“When Love Breaks Down” is, deservedly, the most likely
track to be heard on this side of the Atlantic, at least if you listen to
suitably discerning radio stations. But “Cars And Girls”, a
good-natured commentary
on The Boss’s early oeuvre, is also
well worth seeking out.
