Still don't know what I was waiting for and my time was running wild

Continuing my trip up Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Albums Of All Time...

#88 : Hunky Dory - David Bowie (1971)

David Bowie, then 24, arrived at the Hunky Dory cover shoot with a book of photographs of Marlene Dietrich: a perfect metaphor for this album’s visionary blend of gay camp, flashy rock guitar, and saloon-piano balladry. Bowie marked the polar ends of his artistic ambitions with tribute songs to Bob Dylan and Andy Warhol. In “Oh! You Pretty Things,” “Quicksand,” and “Changes” he invented and perfected a new style of rock & roll glamour. On “Life on Mars?” he sings to all the weirdos like himself, who feel like aliens on Earth. Soon an entire army of kids would attempt to remake themselves in his spangled image, proving his point.

What?  This album is 50 years old?!?  How did that happen?!?  I think I listened to it once, way back when - I seem to recall I liked it, but not enough to drag me away from his various greatest hits albums, so was happy to revisit it with more familiarity with some of his other albums that I've listened to on this list.  And, as usual, I somewhat struggled to pay attention beyond the singles, which are particularly fine on this album, with "Life On Mars?" and "Changes" being the high points for me.  But, in comparison with some of his albums I've listened to, I enjoyed most of the tracks and found them less obviously challenging and hence a good starting point to the famous Bowie albums of this period.  Which is a bit of a shame because we've only got two more of his albums on this list.

Wikipedia has all sorts of interesting facts about the album - it didn't chart upon release (despite positive reviews) because it wasn't promoted because the record label thought he was about to change his image (but surely if you didn't promote Bowie every time he did that, then there would be nothing to promote!).  So it only charted when Ziggy Stardust was released in the next year (more on this later on in the list).  When he started writing the album he didn't have a band because he'd pissed them all off - but luckily most of them had forgotten about it all when he called them back nine months later, and they found a hairdresser/part-time piano tuner to play bass to replace the one guy who was still pissed off with him.  Although, Bowie was actually in another band altogether for a bit between the albums - Arnold Corns apparently, which is not a cool name.  And "Oh You Pretty Things" was first recorded by Peter Noone (ex of Hermans Hermits) and got to #12 in the UK chart.  And all that's before Rick Wakeman even got involved - it's a good read!

I don't think we don't need to revisit how long Bowie's Wikipedia entry is and how I can't be arsed reading it, so we'll just move on to "customers also listen to" Lou, Iggy, Mott The Hoople and Patti Smith - some closer to Bowie than others, but not straying too far away.  For a pleasant change, this is a Bowie album from this period I would revisit - I can't say I'll be doing so soon, but I'm pleased to have found one I would do so for.

#87 : Bitches Brew - Miles Davis (1970)

In February 1969, Miles Davis recorded In a Silent Way, a bold step into ambient funk and electric futurism. Then just six months later, he was back in the studio, driven by his desire to assemble “the best damn rock & roll band in the world.” The idea was to connect his music to the audience of Jimi Hendrix and Sly Stone. The result was this double album of jazz-rock fusion, cut in three days of on-the-spot improvisations with an electric orchestra that included three keyboardists, three drummers, two bassists, saxophonist Wayne Shorter, and guitarist John McLaughlin. The music was full of visceral thrills and the brooding darkness Davis brought to everything he touched.

Me and jazz don't really get along in recorded format - I can enjoy it live (although I can also very much hate it) but I rarely have the patience to sit down and listen to an album of it, even if I appreciate (or at least think I appreciate) the levels of skill involved.  And this is very much a case of that - it sounds like everyone is at the top of their game, but they're not making a noise I like.  I was also somewhat surprised to discover that, after I’d been listening to it for what seemed like hours (but was actually 30 minutes), I was still only half way through the second track.  I won't lie, the rest of the album was a bit of a challenge - I still had an hour to go.  I can understand that those that love this, love it a lot - but that's never going to be me, I'm afraid.

Wikipedia doesn't have a lot to say about the album - it wasn't brilliantly received upon release but has since come to be considered as a classic of the genre.  The section on the album name is particularly uninformative - apparently it might be to do with the women in Miles' life at this time, it might be to do with the musicians involved or "other explanations have been given".  Which seems like another way of saying "err - we don't know".  Apparently it was his highest charting album in the US, reaching the dizzy heights of #35 in the US (but only #71 in the UK).  

His Wikipedia entry is a lengthy and fascinating read - probably even more so if you know the faintest thing about jazz.  I was most interested in the fact that it's generally pretty nice to the man, except for the final paragraph which manages to drop in "errr - he wasn't really that good" and "beating your wives is not cool", which seems an interesting way to end.  The article is also very coy as to whether he had AIDS when he died - it feels that stating it as a fact and leaving it at that or not speculating at all would seem a better approach.  It also reminded me he was married to Cicely Tyson who died earlier this year, looking absolutely fabulous at the age of 96 - and who has a much more interesting Wikipedia entry (to me, at least) and, when asked how she wanted to be remembered replied "I’ve done my best. That’s all" - which seems like a good way to live to me.

"Customers also listened to" some names I recognise but can't comment on any more than that.  I think this album falls squarely into "probably not terrible, but I'm not the person to comment on it" - it's just not for me, I'm afraid.  Or probably too many other people, I suspect.

#86 : The Doors - The Doors (1967)

After blowing minds as the house band at the Whisky-a-Go-Go, where they were fired for playing the Oedipal drama “The End,” the Doors were ready to unleash their organ-driven rock on the world. “On each song, we had tried every possible arrangement,” drummer John Densmore said, “so we felt the whole album was tight.” “Break on Through (To the Other Side),” “Twentieth Century Fox,” and “Crystal Ship” are pop-art lighting for Top 40 attention spans. But the Doors hit pay dirt by editing one of their jam songs for airplay: “Light My Fire,” written by guitarist Robbie Krieger, after Jim Morrison told everybody in the band to write a song with universal imagery.

I'd never heard this album, but was pleased to get the chance to finally get an answer a vitally important question which has been bothering me for some time - does the world really need organ-driven rock?  And having listened to it, my suspicion is that, whilst it's an interesting diversion, it's not exactly essential.  It's all a bit samey for me - "Light My Fire" is enjoyable, but the rest of it is passable at best and "The End" really does drag on (11:35 of dragging on).  Very much of its time and that doesn't make it great in my book, I'm afraid.

Wikipedia doesn't have a lot of interest to say about the album - it had a mixed reception from the critics and didn't really do much until "Light My Fire" was released, when it started a steady climb up the charts in the US, getting to #2 (stuck behind Sergeant Pepper, which I'm guessing we might hear from later).  The UK were less enthusiastic - the album didn't chart until 1991 when Oliver Stone's The Doors was released, when it got to #43.  But I'm guessing the 4 million sales in the US meant they didn't really care.  The band's entry is lengthy and incident packed - they, and particularly Jim, didn't go out of their way to make friends.  There's too much to go into here, but one section includes the sentence "Morrison became the first rock artist to be arrested onstage during a concert performance" - and you'd have to say he was asking for it.

"Customers also listened to" The Who, Jimi, Jefferson Airplane and a load of other very 70s groups.  This was one I was pleased to tick off my list, but I wasn't really expecting to enjoy it and I didn't.

Three very different albums from a 5 year period but not such a tricky choice for me - Bowie is the only one I'll ever listen to again.  I'm prepared to believe that Miles has produced a masterpiece and my ears are just unable to recognise it as such - hopefully both fans of jazz will be happy enough with that.  But well done to Dave!

#91-89 - I never thought this would happen
#85-83 - A tricky decision