The review of Hotel California hinted at a dichotomy between, on the one hand, the gender-bending, experimental, slightly deviant aesthetic of British glam and, on the other, the rough-and-tumble, gun totin’, horse ridin’, unmistakably masculine Americana of the Eagles. Actually, I was just playing around, thinking maybe that this contrast is a bit fanciful and […]
Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen (1975) Read More »
I like the Dude, but the Dude hates the fuckin’ Eagles, man, which is only to be expected, because they represent the slickest, most unashamed commercialisation of 60s utopianism, the transmogrification of serious bearded guitar music into radio-friendly and occasionally syrupy country rock. The Eagles committed the unforgivable sin of rendering the hippie aesthetic palatable
Hotel California by the Eagles (1976) Read More »
My parents repeatedly played Too Low For Zero in our car during the 80s, so Elton John reminds me vividly of my childhood. But I’ve always been mystified by his stratospheric fame. He has none of the otherworldly allure of Bowie, or the seedy, simian charisma of Jagger – he comes across as a fat
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John (1973) Read More »
I have no connection to Neil Young: I didn’t listen to him growing up, my family didn’t, my friends didn’t, and generally speaking, I’m not keen on country music; it reeks of piss-stained old people, simple-minded rural folk, and unwashed hippies. But After the Gold Rush seems to be so universally well-regarded that I felt
After the Gold Rush by Neil Young (1970) Read More »
Seems strange in retrospect but, according to music critics like Ken Barnes and Simon Reynolds, the primary architect of 70s glam rock was not the Thin White Duke; it was Marc Bolan, the mincing, hair-brained, slightly ghoulish frontman of 70s rock band T. Rex. The reason it seems strange is because Bowie was inducted into
Electric Warrior by T. Rex (1971) Read More »
Obviously it’s a bit of a cliché to say that the 60s were all peace, love, LSD, economic stability and trendy Social Democratic government, while the 70s marked a descent into decadent, gender-bending glamour and social, political, and economic turmoil. After all, “Gimme Shelter” and the Doors’ menacing debut album came out in the 60s,
The Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd (1973) Read More »
All the hippies that I went to school with loved Led Zeppelin, which is ample reason for me to dislike them. Having said that, they were also into Pink Floyd (who I don’t mind) and Radiohead (who I love), so there’s no necessary link between potheads and rubbish music; quite the contrary, perhaps. But having
Led Zeppelin IV by Led Zeppelin (1971) Read More »
With the hippie dream collapsing in the wake of Charlie Manson, Vietnam, and the failed student uprising of 1968, the Rolling Stones duly stepped in to provide the soundtrack in the form of the apocalyptic Let it Bleed, in particular its wistful, goodbye-to-all-that closing track, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”. But the unmistakeable
Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones (1971) Read More »
The 60s was about Real Men making Real Rock Music – the simian swagger of the Stones, the muscular Hendrix, the roguishly wasted and virile Lizard King, and of course, the Beatles, whether in their slim suited son-in-law or beardy psychedelic manifestations. The 70s, by contrast, belonged to the transhuman, gender-fluid freaks – the effete
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars by David Bowie (1972) Read More »
Understated ‘sad dad rock’ for depressed, middle-aged, middle-class, unhappily married men, is how a cynic might characterise the National’s music. As I slot very neatly into precisely that demographic, I believe I am well placed to offer an evaluation and ranking of their discography. As it happens, I came to the National later in life;
The National albums, ranked Read More »