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Favorite 1978 LPs, part 2
I plan to spend the next few weeks – until it’s best-of-2008 list time – ranking the rock/pop/soul albums of 30 years ago. This week it’s ##11-20.
Prog all-stars: electric violinist/keyboardist Eddie Jobson, bassist/vocalist John Wetton, and drummer Bill Bruford had all played in King Crimson, while guitar virtuoso Allan Holdsworth had been in Soft Machine (and had recently played on Bruford’s debut album). Jobson wrote the most (he is the only one of the four with a writing credit on all eight tracks), and his keyboard textures largely define the sound, yet the feeling of the music is one of communal creation, and only one track is credited solely to Jobson. Prog is thought of by detractors as self-indulgent, but this is not an album of especially protracted, showy soloing, but rather of intricate compositions given performances of maximum impact and tautness. It contains no hits, though I remember some freeform FM radio stations in New York playing “In the Dead of Night” and “Alaska.” After this album, Holdsworth and Bruford left, and though the follow-up sold better, it was musically inferior.
Beefheart’s most colorful album, bursting with marimba, keyboards, and trombone, with the phrase “like two flamingos in a fruit fight” (“Tropical Hot Dog Night”) aptly characterizing it. But if that sounds like overproduction, it’s not, and the eccentric angularity of his best early albums is here in spades as well.
The Heads would get much better on their next two albums, but this is pretty great too in its own geeky way, and is already transitioning (with Brian Eno already co-producing) on tracks such as “Artists Only.” David Byrne’s herky-jerky strumming channels his high-strung nervous energy just as much as his charmingly strained singing
Though they were adapting Roxy Music and krautrock textures and beats, on mainstream American radio The Cars certainly had no antecedents, and for many listeners seemed to come from nowhere. The band’s catchy songs in innovative sonic packaging proved irresistible, but still hold up today, showing it wasn’t just a gimmick. The “she says to leave it to me/everything will be alright” section in the album-closing “All Mixed Up” is one of the most anthemic moments in ‘70s rock.
“Heart of Glass” was the hit, but from the first time I played the LP, my favorite track has always been “Fade Away and Radiate,” sporting a fine Robert Fripp guitar solo. Nearly as great are the glorious cover of the Nerves’ “Hanging on the Telephone,” heard by millions more people in Blondie’s version (but, good news, there’s a new Nerves compilation on Alive/Bomp), “One Way or Another,” “I Know but I Don’t Know,” “Pretty Baby,” “11:59,” and “Will Anything Happen,” all powered by the unstoppable impetus of Clem Burke’s imaginative drumming and the greatest assortment of power hooks that “new wave” achieved in 1978.
The ornate, 10:53 title suite (complete with cello and uncredited Springsteen recitation) is an under-appreciated highlight of Reed’s vast discography, and the self-mocking “Gimmie Some Good Times” has all the grit and slovenly genius of Reed’s best work. Of course, it’s a very uneven album, but that’s a given with him. The clotted production and sloppy playing were criticized at the time, but in hindsight they sound aptly punky, moreso than the Ramones at the time, actually.
Speaking of which…. I used to love this record unconditionally, but mixed feelings have infiltrated in the years since. It’s occasionally a little too polished, a little too neat. But on the other hand, there are so many classic songs here – “I Just Want to Have Something to Do,” “I Wanted Everything,” “I’m Against It,” “I Wanna Be Sedated” – that my misgivings are overwhelmed. Arguably a notch below Rocket to Russia, but still fine, plus one of the greatest album covers ever.
Hard to believe she was just 19 when this came out. It starts with a whale singing, but even after that her high, girlish singing still seemed weird and highly unusual. Of course, “Wuthering Heights” remains the classic track, an emotional explosion of ardent yearning and high romanticism.
Following up his Byrds-derived debut, Petty came up with something a lot darker. The title track is mean-spirited, but its cathartic power is undeniable. Here and through most of the album, Petty sounds emotionally hurt (yes, the following track is in fact entitled “Hurt”), or about to be hurt (the smashingly urgent “I Need to Know”), with the main points of optimism being the return to Byrdsian jangle-pop “Listen to Her Heart” (with its immortal opening line “You think you’re gonna take her away with your money and your cocaine”) and the closing “Baby’s a Rock ‘n’ Roller,” which makes a virtue of simplicity.
Before this album, Walsh was a respected rocker, occasionally with a goofy sense of humor, who had a strong cult following. After the hit here, “Life’s Been Good,” reached #12 on the singles chart in the summer, Walsh was a star, but his goofball image dominated in the minds of his new fans. Lost in that transition, alas, was the appreciation his guitar playing, keen arrangements, and knack for bittersweet ballads all deserved. “At the Station” in particular deserved to be a classic in the vein of his earlier one-time FM favorite “Turn to Stone,” and concludes a side-one suite of sorts that takes a serious look at stalled life progress.
