Quintessential Songs: Reducing a Band's Essence to Just One Song (PART 1)

Recently I was having a conversation on Twitter with someone about the Rolling Stones when their great song "Can't You Hear Me Knocking" was brought up. The fellow I was chatting with mentioned that, to him, this was the quintessential Stones song. Since it's one of my favorite Stones songs, I could totally see his point, but it also got the wheels in my head turning. Does every band that any of us like have that one song that perfectly encapsulates everything about them? And could this be a fun and interesting way to help each other discover new music by grabbing our interest with that first, special song? I allowed my imagination to get away from me a little bit more and the longer I mulled this over, I decided to have some fun with it. 

So here's the challenge:

Imagine that you've just met a time traveler...they could be from 100 years in the past or from 100 years in the future. Or maybe you've met an alien being from another planet who has no idea what music is. Regardless of the scenario, pretend that you are confronted with this person and have to describe what music is (doesn't have to be rock music, it can be any genre). You're explaining it and they're just not understanding what it's all about. You think to yourself "you know what? It'll be easier if I just play them some music...that will convey it better than mere words can." However, they don't have a lot of time before they have to be on their way...you've only got time to play them ONE SONG from each artist, so you need to make sure it counts.  This one song needs to:

- encapsulate the artist's essence and overall sound
- be memorable enough that it will stick in their head after just one listen
- if the artist has distinctly different eras to their music, it should cover enough of them such that it can bridge most, if not all of them in the one song

Sounds tough, right?

After a lot of thinking and analyzing, here are the quintessential songs I've come up with for some of my favorite artists, with explanations why (and audio) to help my arguments. If you like some of these bands, please share your picks in the comments section, as well as your picks for other bands not mentioned here. This is Part 1 of what will be as many posts in the series until I run out of ideas, so here goes!

The Rolling Stones: I have to start with the band that was the impetus for this entire exercise, don't I? I thought long and hard about this because "Can't You Hear Me Knocking" as discussed above would be a great choice: it's got an iconic Keith riff at the beginning, a sexy groove, sneering vocals from Mick, and a killer jam during the second half. However, it's not my choice for their quintessential song mainly because it's not too well known outside of serious Stones fans. That's not to say that the quintessential songs should be the most popular ones, but they should have enough mass appeal such that someone uninitiated could pick up on why after just one listen...after all, that's the reason the song is popular in the first place, right?  With that being said, my choice is...

Jumpin' Jack Flash. Released as a non-album single in 1968, for me this song (which narrowly beat out "Satisfaction" and "Gimme Shelter") has all of the ingredients that capture what the Stones are all about: an instantly recognizable riff, a slinky groove, a catchy chorus ("well it's aaaaaaaaaaall right now...") strutting, cocky vocals from Mick, and a darkness and swagger about the lyrics.  It's also has one foot in the experimental 1960s Stones approach that they were soon to leave behind while the other foot is firmly planted in the powerful blues/roots rock approach they'd reach their zenith with over the next five years. In short, it captures everything great about the Stones as they were exiting the singles-driven Brian Jones era and entering the album-driven Mick Taylor era. 

The Beatles: This was a really tough one because, I mean, how do you only pick ONE song to explain to someone how great the Beatles are? Beyond that, they had so much artistic growth in such a ridiculously short period of time that it's almost impossible to choose just one track that encapsulates everything they did. The early years were marked by infectiously catchy and exciting pop songwriting, the middle years had more complex songs, arrangements, and pioneering recording techniques, and the final years had a more stripped down but no less innovative approach. Beyond that, the sheer number of insanely popular and beloved songs means that there's a huge amount of stuff to choose from. That being said, I thought long and hard about this and came up with my choice, which is...

Hey Jude. Perhaps it's no coincidence that this is also my favorite Beatles song of all time, but I think it really does capture the essence of the band.  Play, or even just say, those first two words of the song to anyone and they'll instantly know what you mean. Hell, all of my kids knew this song when they were so young that they could barely speak. It's got a beautiful melody, uplifting lyrics, a great arrangement, and an anthemic chorus that you can't help but sing along to every time you hear it (go ahead and try to resist...I dare you!). Seeing Paul play this (and singing along with the entire crowd) when I saw him in concert was one of the highlights of my life, and that's no joke. It hearkens back to the pop craftsmanship of the early years, the stripped down sound of the later years, and an ambitious production (strings and horns at the end) as in the middle years. Plus, John Lennon was on record for after stating that it was his favorite song that his longtime collaborator ever wrote...coming from John, that's got to count for a lot, doesn't it? (Songs it narrowly edged out: too many to list!)

The Who: There's a lot of ground to try and cover here with this band if you're going to reduce it down to just one song. There's the early, high-energy R&B stuff (1964-65), the mid-1960s power pop with all of those great, classic singles (1966-68), the rock opera/stadium anthems of the 1969-73 period, or the more introspective, cynical, and experimental later era stuff (1975-78). For me, there is and has always been one Who song that perfectly captures the essence of the band, and tough as it is to pass over classics like "Won't Get Fooled Again," "Pinball Wizard," "My Generation," "Love Reign O'er Me," "Slip Kid," and "Who Are You" among many others, the ultimate Who song for me is...

Bargain. First of all, this song has been hailed by critics, fans, and the band themselves as containing one of, if not THE best ensemble performances of the Who's entire career as captured on record. As Pete Townshend once said of this song, "I didn't play the guitar on that one...it played me." It's the perfect balance between the hard rock they were masters of and the melodic introspection Pete was always able to inject into his songs. And of course, you have Roger Daltrey getting inside the heart, mind, and soul of the main character, delivering the vocals with incredible passion and power. The chorus is instantly recognizable and hits you like a ton of bricks ("I call that a bargain...the best I ever had...the best I EVER HAD!"), and the quieter middle section sung by Pete Townshend is so beautiful and moving, musically and lyrically, that it's enough to make you cry. And that, to me, is what makes this the quintessential Who song: it goes from ass-kicking rock to tear-jerker back to kicking your ass again in the span of a few minutes. It doesn't hurt that in addition to Daltrey's and Townshend's tremendous performances, Keith Moon and John Entwistle turn in one of the performances of their lives. John's bass guitar is all over the place, melodic and powerful, while Moon is a monster on the drum kit but is at the same time incredibly tasteful and plays to the song. His double-bass drum flutters and the workout he gives his entire kit during the outro is exciting as all get out, and the final strummed guitar chords and synth melody still give me chills after all these years. Everything great about the Who, all in one song...that's the whole point of this post, isn't it?

 (I had to include this live version from San Francisco in December 1971 because it's just so damn good!)

The Kinks: Along similar lines, the Kinks' career was so long and so varied that there are numerous distinct eras that need to be taken into account. There's the early R&B and proto-punk rock/heavy metal of early singles like "You Really Got Me" and "All Day and All of the Night." There's the mature, groundbreaking string of brilliant hit singles from 1965-1968 like "Tired of Waiting For You," "See My Friends," "Waterloo Sunset," "Sunny Afternoon," "Autumn Almanac," "Days," and more. There was the string of brilliant albums beginning with 1966's Face to Face and running through 1972's Everybody's in Showbiz. There was the concept album phase of the early to mid-1970s, their hard rock/arena rock phase of 1977-1984, and the gradual petering out of their career from the mid-1980s until 1996. Ray Davies was one of the most brilliant and prolific songwriters of his, or any, generation (and his brother Dave was no slouch in this department either) and managed to steer the Kinks on an always unpredictable course over their thirty-two year career. And as a fan of all of their material, I found it incredibly hard to choose just one song to encapsulate everything about this great band. How do you pick just one song to cover all of the ground that they did over such a long career? Surely some aspect of their essence, their sound will be left out, right? Keeping all of this in mind, and thinking long and hard about this, I came up with...

Lola. An obvious choice, perhaps, but hear me out. I was trying to come up with one of the more obscure, but no less excellent, Kinks songs to fit the bill and while several came close, all roads kept leading back to Lola. For me, it's the right song for a number of reasons. It has an instantly recognizable and iconic riff at the opening of the song. It straddles the hard rock side of the Kinks' music with a bit of theatrical camp. It has classic Ray Davies lyrics that are not only cerebral and thought-provoking, but very humorous. It's got great harmony vocals from Dave (which I've always found to be absolutely integral and vital to the Kinks' sound), as well as a great band performance from all involved. And the chorus is catchy and, at this point, known by just about anyone in the English speaking world whether they even know the song or not. It also fits perfectly within the Kinks' ethos of being a great standalone single, yet also fitting in context perfectly on the album it was lifted from.  Finally, the seemingly humorous (and true!) tale of a man falling in love with a woman who may or may not be a man in drag hints at deeper things, such as questioning and reaffirming what it is that makes the singer masculine. The ambiguity when Ray sings "well I'm not the world's most masculine man, but I know what I am and I'm glad I'm a man, and so is Lola" is classic Davies: is Lola glad he's a man, or is Lola a man, too? It's left unresolved and for the listener to decide. In my mind, the answer to this open-ended question has always been "yes"...as unresolved as the question itself. That's the mark of a great song, and for me Lola is quintessential Kinks.

Led Zeppelin: Yet another band who had distinct phases to their career, although perhaps in a different way to the Kinks, Who, or Beatles. While they definitely incorporated different elements into their sound and effectively utilized dynamics and acoustic instrumentation, they never strayed too heavily from their heavy blues and folk roots. Still, they were definitely a 1960s band that evolved as the 1970s went along, unlike the one-dimensional heavy metal bands they subsequently inspired. That being said, it was still quite difficult for me to distill their musical essence down to just one song because there were so many facets to Led Zeppelin: hard rock, blues, Celtic/English folk, and more. Beyond that, there are signature elements of their sound, from Robert Plant's powerful vocals and Jimmy Page's virtuoso guitar work, to John Paul Jones' brilliant bass guitar and multi-instrument work and John Bonham's fantastic drumming. In addition, Bonham and Jones were one of the finest rhythm sections in the history of rock...one of the few that really locked in and could swing. I had to keep all of this in mind when making my decision, which ended up being...

Over the Hills and Far Away. No, I didn't go for the obvious choice of "Stairway to Heaven"...great song, but overplayed to death. As for other signature Zeppelin songs like "Black Dog," "Whole Lotta Love," "Immigrant Song," "Achilles Last Stand," and others in that same vein, they didn't have as much of the famous light and shade that Zeppelin traded in. Honestly, this song beat out "Kashmir" and "Ramble On" by a very slim margin: "Kashmir" just doesn't feature enough of Page's guitar or Jones' bass, while "Ramble On"...well, it's a GREAT song but I just feel "Over the Hills and Far Away" beats it by a nose. In my opinion, it's got it all when it comes to Zeppelin: a quiet acoustic intro that builds up, a hard rock main body of the song, Plant singing in his best, most powerful wail, driving bass and drums from the Jones/Bonham rhythm section, a great Page electric guitar solo, and a gentle acoustic outro. Plus, it's catchy and melodic, two things Led Zeppelin almost always was (and for which they don't get nearly the credit they deserve). It may not rock as hard as their heaviest moments, but Led Zeppelin was never only about being heavy, and to me "Over the Hills and Far Away" is the perfect cross-section of everything that makes Led Zeppelin great.

The Doors: For the last entry in Part 1, I've decided to pick a song from one of the greatest American rock bands to come out of the 1960s, and again, a personal favorite: The Doors. Besides being one of the biggest bands of the era, the legendary band from Los Angeles had one of the most unique line-ups and sounds in all of rock, consisting solely of guitar, organ, drums, and vocals. No bass guitar at all in the band except on some of their studio tracks. The bulk of the bass parts on record, and all of them on stage, were handled by keyboard player Ray Manzarek's left hand on a Fender Keyboard Bass; at the same time, he played his intricate and complex keyboard/organ/piano melodies with his right hand. Beyond Ray's talent, they had a solid and talented drummer in John Densmore who had more of a jazz background than in rock, but he had a very unique style and sound. The same can be said for guitarist Robby Krieger, who was not a blues and rock based guitarist like the vast majority of his peers, but rather was rooted in classical, jazz, and flamenco guitar. He played without a pick, had a one-of-a-kind style, and wrote the majority of the band's music (along with Morrison). While their various albums had subtle shades and shifts in sound, at their core the Doors were a blues-based psychedelic band with more classical and jazz leanings than anyone around at the time. With all of that said, and with all of their music to choose from, I perhaps still took the obvious way out by choosing their first #1 single...

Light My Fire. Written mainly by Robby Krieger (with significant input from Jim Morrison), the Doors breakthrough single from 1967 is widely considered to be their signature song and in my opinion, is the ultimate Doors song. Starting with a machine-gun crack of John Densmore's snare drum, it's got every element of the Doors sound wrapped up in its 7-minute duration. First, there's Ray Manzarek's throbbing keyboard bass and classical flourish lead melody line that drives the entire song. There's Krieger's bluesy/jazzy fingerpicked guitar licks filling the spaces between throughout, playing more of a supporting role to Ray's keyboards. Densmore's Latin-influenced jazzy drumming and rock-steady backbeat underpins it all and is the foundation the other three rest upon. Jim Morrison's vocals, ranging from his hushed baritone before he gets into his throat-tearing screams, build excitement before he ends the song by whipping himself into a frenzy at the end of the song. The lyrics range from a simple professing of the singer's desire for his girl's love to some slightly darker, almost mysitcal elements as to what needs to happen so that they can "set the night on fire." Sandwiched in between the beginning and ending verses is a long solo section that takes up half of the song and is a showcase for both Manzarek and Krieger, the former playing a hypnotic bassline with his left hand while his right hand solos masterfully, the latter playing a very jagged and dissonant solo that sounds nothing like all of the blues noodling of his fellow American guitar contemporaries. While the Doors had loads of great songs throughout their career, for me, "Light My Fire" is the song that has all of the elements that made the Doors one of the biggest American rock bands of the late 1960s and early 1970s.

So concludes Part 1 of this series! It was a lot of fun and made me really think about what it is about each of these bands that appeals to me when it comes to their music. If you're a fan of any of these bands, what do you think of my selections? Agree/disagree? And for your own favorites, what would your one song be to show an uninformed listener what they were all about?  Part 2 will have more of these song choices from other bands, so I hope you'll stick with me as we go through this exercise!

PART 2 TO FOLLOW SOON!

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BOOK REVIEW: Love Becomes a Funeral Pyre: A Biography of the Doors

Mick Wall has written several rock biographies over the years, including one that I've reviewed previously (on Led Zeppelin).  While that book was unusual in its structure and the imagined sequences sandwiched between chapters, it was also a solid overall portrait of the band's career. Thus, when I heard that he had written a new biography on The Doors, I was intrigued.  While I hoped he wouldn't repeat the format to his Zeppelin book (it worked once but I don't think it would work again), I wanted to read a comprehensive overview of the Doors' career with some new takes on the band, their music, and especially the Jim Morrison enigma.  Let me assure you off the bat that this book is not set up like Wall's Zeppelin book: no fantasy sequences, so to speak, in between chapters. That doesn't, however, preclude it from being any less interesting or polarizing (if reviews elsewhere on the Internet are anything to go by), but then again, just about everything pertaining to the Doors is controversial...why should a book about them be any different?

***special thanks to Margot at Orion Books for sending me a copy of this to review!***

Right off the bat, the book gets off to a sudden start by taking us to the supposed moment that Jim died, and Wall shows he isn't afraid of stirring up controversy in doing so (we'll come back to this later). After this jarring introductory chapter, he begins telling the story of the Doors with the childhoods and upbringings of the four members, focusing first on Jim, then Ray, their meeting at UCLA, and eventually Robby and John when they enter the picture. Much of the source material for these biographical sketches are previous Doors books, although Wall also conducted numerous interviews with members of the Doors and their entourage over the years; these nuggets of information are vital and very welcome in fleshing out and extrapolating so many of the events over their career that are brought up throughout the book. From the initial meeting of the four Doors through their early formative days, Wall details their career in great detail.  While struggling in the beginning to get steady gigs and the attention of any record label, the band continued to develop and hone their sound, writing material and rehearsing in order to solidify their truly unique guitar/organ/drums/vocals line-up. Indeed, the bulk of their first two albums (and some songs that would spill onto their third, fourth, and even fifth LPs!) were written and worked out during these early years of 1965 and 1966. Eventually becoming the house band first at the London Fog and then the famous Whisky A Go Go, the Doors caught the attention of Elektra Records owner Jac Holzmann, who signed them to his label and would prove instrumental in breaking them. In fact, it was a mutually beneficial relationship as the Doors' massive success led to Elektra going from being a boutique label into one of the major rock record labels in the industry. Their great debut album, 1967's The Doors, served notice that this wasn't your ordinary West Coast rock band, and "Light My Fire" became the #1 single that broke the floodgates open for them. 

Their following two albums, 1967's Strange Days and 1968's Waiting For the Sun would cement their place as the biggest and best band in America, as would another smash single, "Hello, I Love You." Their unpredictable and powerful live performances only bolstered their reputation, as did their image and sound. The Doors were unlike any band in rock music at the time, dressing all in black and with an ethos that was dark, moody, enigmatic, and almost Gothic in presentation.  The fans and critics couldn't get enough of it.  However, all was not well in the band, as internal pressures and Jim Morrison's unstable personality began to tear at the fabric of the brotherhood which had made them so successful. Indeed, Jim began to almost willfully give in to his addictions and demons around this time while their producer, Paul Rothchild, drove the band mad with endless retakes and his quest for new sounds during the recording of their fourth album. The resulting record, 1969's The Soft Parade, was their weakest and most uneven. Even the presence of another hit single, "Touch Me," couldn't save it. The final straw was at the first gig on what was to be their massive 1969 American tour, in Miami. In an uncontrollable situation through no fault of their own (you can readily find the details of this concert elsewhere), the band had to play in front of a wild crowd with a Jim who was drunk and belligerent. What happened during this show is the stuff of legend: accusations that Jim incited a riot (he did, sort of) and that he exposed his genitals (he did not) led to the rest of the tour being cancelled outright while the authorities in Florida decided to blow everything out of proportion and make an example out of Jim and the Doors by trying him for public indecency .  The shadow of this lawsuit would hang over Jim and the Doors for the rest of their career. Two excellent final albums, 1970's Morrison Hotel and 1971's LA Woman, finished off their recording career, while an uneven final tour in 1970 concluded with their somber gig at 1970's Isle of Wight Festival and a disastrous final show in New Orleans in December. Fed up with Jim's out of control behavior, his alcoholism, and the press and authorities dogging them at every turn, the Doors were at a crossroads when Jim decided to move to Paris with his longtime companion Pamela Courson. Leaving in the spring of 1971, he wouldn't survive the year, passing away under mysterious circumstances in July. 

Unlike most Doors books, Wall doesn't end the story here, giving a nice overview of the three post-Morrison Doors albums the band released, as well as their various solo projects. He brings their story up to the present, including the tragic death of Ray Manzarek in 2013. And of course, he delves into the mystery surrounding Jim's death. Before I get to this, I do want to say that Wall makes it clear throughout the book that while he likes and respects Ray as a member of the Doors, he also has no use for Ray's far-out and endless mythologizing of Jim and the Doors. Granted, I agree that Ray could always be quite irritating with how he would go on and on (and on and on...) about the pseudo-mystical aspects of Jim and the Doors, but Wall never conveys this feeling in a mean way and he does concede that Ray was as important as anyone in helping the Doors stay relevant and popular through to the present. He also does show that, deep down, Ray cared deeply for Jim as a human being (as also did Robby, John, Holzmann, manager Bill Siddons, road manager Vince Treanor, and others).  He paints Pamela Courson in a less than stellar light, but again, by most accounts she was very bad for Jim even though they were indeed soulmates; neither could ever be with anyone else, but they were the worst thing for each other (if that makes sense). What's a bit more puzzling is how nice a picture Wall paints of Patricia Kennealy, who by all accounts was despised by everyone in the Doors camp, from Ray (in his own book, even), John, and Robby as well as everyone else who came into contact with her. Obviously, none of us were there and there are two sides to every story, so at the very least it is good of Wall to give us Patricia's side.  However, he seems to give her an unusual amount of credence. This, as well as his citing of notoriously controversial rock biographer Stephen Davis's Doors book and his touching on plausible questions about Morrison's sexuality, among other things, has led to Love Becomes a Funeral Pyre being a hotly contested and debated entry into the Doors bibliography by fans. However, nothing about this band is ever without controversy and it certainly didn't take away from my enjoyment of the book.  While Wall spends the bulk of the book discussing Morrison (which is only natural), it never feels like the other three Doors get short shrift and it is to his credit that their entire story is presented in a very readable, enjoyable, and informative way. This book is a difficult one to put down once you get started and get past the first 75 pages or so of background material.

Now, getting back to Jim's death...(***SPOILER ALERT!***), the accepted story is that he and Pam snorted some heroin, he felt unwell, took a bath, and died in the tub while she was asleep. There have been conspiracy theories that he faked his death, but no one really believes these. The dead-in-the-bathtub-of-an-OD story is the one that has been accepted as fact since 1971. However, over the years bits of info have surfaced that shed a bit more light on Jim's state of mind and body leading up to his death during his time in Paris.  It's generally accepted and confirmed by his friends in Paris (and even in America before he left) that in later years Jim had been suffering from asthma. Also in Paris, he occasionally coughed up blood and would have violent, controllable bouts of hiccups that would last for days. These are not surprising symptoms of a long time alcoholic and drug user. However, there have also been some claims by his Parisian friends and cohorts that Jim did not actually die in his apartment in the bathtub, but that he died in the bathroom, of a heroin overdose, at a Paris nightclub that he was known to have frequented. He was then (supposedly) taken from the club to his apartment, undressed, put in the bathtub, and left there by a friend of his and two drug-dealing henchman of Pam's lover, the Count Jean de Breiteul. They and the club owners threatened everyone in the club that night, as well as Pam, to not say anything about it.  The fact that no one ever saw Jim's body after it was in the casket and that no autopsy was every performed make either theory hard to prove or disprove. What does lend this new theory some credence is the fact that de Breiteul was well known to be a heroin "dealer to the stars" at the time, ensnaring not only Pam Courson but also Talitha Getty and Marianne Faithful in his trap. He promptly hightailed it to Marrakesh after Jim died, and the fact that Getty died days later and that the count himself died later that year give weight to the claims that he was dispensing abnormally strong heroin to his clients. He also supposedly supplied Janis Joplin with the fatal dose of heroin that killed her in October 1970...heroin stronger than any of them were used to.  Marianne Faithful and Sam Bernett (who worked at the club) have both spoken out in recent years with this claim. While I don't know what to fully believe, it certainly seems plausible and both stories make sense. All it really does is add to the mystery surrounding Jim's death and show us that the absolute truth about his demise is unlikely to ever be known.  However, Wall presents the second theory as fact and dismisses the first outright. Whether one agrees with one or the other, or neither, will lead to whether one believes this claim and the book itself are controversial. For me, it just gives me something else to mull over and increases interest in the cryptic nature of his death. With Courson's death from an OD in 1974, the only other person who was there who probably knew the actual truth left us with an enduring mystery.

As for the book itself, it is very well written and is engaging and engrossing. There are several typos scattered throughout the book but these are easy enough to get past (although the editor needs to do a better job next time!). Mick Wall's writing style is enjoyable and his forays into vernacular and "far-out" language are humorous and totally in keeping with the vibe of the band and their times.  My biggest criticisms are with his giving disproportionate and perhaps undeserved weight to the claims made by the aforementioned Davis and Kennealy, but at the same time it's only fair to give both sides of a story and let the reader make up their mind. It seems that even with the conviction Wall writes about many of these matters, especially Morrison's death, he has done just that. I'm not sure there has been a definitive and comprehensive full-band biography of the Doors that has been written; rather, there are several excellent books focusing on various parts of the band, from memoirs (Ray's, and John's, which I plan to review soon) and essays on Jim to various other biographies of Jim and the band.  Love Becomes a Funeral Pyre is a worthy additional to any Doors fan's library, and it just may be the best biography about them yet.

MY RATING: 8.5/10

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BOOK REVIEW: Light My Fire: My Life with the Doors

The Doors had one of the most unique band lineups of any rock band, with only guitar, drums, keyboards, and vocals to create their sound. With this blend of instrumentation and the talented men writing and playing this music, they managed to carve out a one-of-a-kind sound and career in only five and a half short years in order to become one of the most legendary and famous American rock bands of all time. While Jim Morrison is a household name and one of the most famous icons of his era (and beyond), the other three Doors, while well known, have always taken a back seat to Morrison's persona. However, it's always valuable and interesting to get the perspective of as many people in a band as possible, and to get it from someone as talented and outspoken as Ray Manzarek is not to be missed.

Ray Manzarek formed the Doors with his UCLA Film School friend and classmate Jim Morrison in the summer of 1965 and recruited Robby Krieger and John Densmore, whom he met at a meditation lecture, solidifying the lineup that would go on to achieve massive success during the band's lifetime and beyond. A classically trained pianist with a love of jazz, blues, and R&B, Ray pulled double duty in the Doors, as he was not only the keyboard player but his left hand was their bass player.  As supremely talented as Krieger and Densmore were, it was Manzarek that gave the band their unique sound with not only his haunting organ playing, but his insistent and dexterous keyboard bass playing.  Light My Fire, published in 1998, is the late Ray's autobiography about his life in the Doors, and he's as good as his word when it comes to what's in the book.

Ray was born in 1939 and spent his entire childhood in Chicago.  As third generation Polish-American, he lived with his parents and two younger brothers in what is portrayed as a very happy and warm, comfortably working/middle-class family. Indeed, the many chapters describing his childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood in Chicago (where he graduated from DePaul University with an economic degree in 1960) sound idyllic and the warmth and affection Ray has for his family and those years really comes across to the reader. During these years, he became classically trained on the piano before being smitten by the blues and jazz, laying the groundwork for the skills that would serve him in good stead later on in his life.  Moving out to the west coast to attend UCLA Film School, Ray meets the love of his life, Dorothy, whom he married in 1967 and remained married to until his death in 2013. He also became friends with fellow film student Jim Morrison, and when their paths crossed after graduation in 1965, it seemed as though fate brought them together and they decided to form a band based around Jim's lyrics and some melodies he had in his head. Meeting Robby and John at a meditation lecture, Ray recruited them into the band and it's the story of the Doors' career that makes up the bulk of the remainder of the book. It's also where things really get interesting, as there is a lot of information that was new to me, as well as some controversial bits.  Ray discusses the initial band rehearsals and his impressions of his bandmates. It's clear throughout the book that he had, and continues to have, a lot of affection and respect for Jim, and he has nothing but kind words to say about Robby Krieger.  It's when he discusses John Densmore that sparks begin to fly.  It's been no secret over the years that the relationship between Ray and John has been strained (to put it mildly), but throughout the book Ray always seems to take a passive-aggressive swipe at Densmore when he can. He does temper this by offering a lot of praise, not only for John's drumming (calling him "the best drummer I ever played with") but highlighting how his personality fit perfectly within the band dynamic.  However, every time a band conversation is relayed in the book, Ray always includes comments John made that are labelled as being "whiny" or casting Densmore as a "worry-wart." There are also several exchanges described where John tried to make jokes or snide comments about Robby's comfortable upbringing or Jim's parents' money, which were answered with a lot of verbal abuse from the other three back.  In fact, there is one discussion with Jim that Ray shares where, in between sets at the Whiskey Au-Go-Go in the summer of 1966, Jim pulled him outside and asked if they could fire Densmore!  Densmore seems to be the recipient of a lot of criticism in this book, from Ray as well as Morrison...I'm planning on reading John's memoir and reviewing it at a later date to get his side of the story.

From here, Ray gives the reader a firsthand account of the Doors' career, from topping the charts with "Light My Fire" and their debut album through the making of all of their hugely successful albums. It's interesting to get his insiders perspective on many of the recording sessions and concerts, as well as the interband dynamics between the four of them. For the most part, it seems to have been a harmonious brotherhood, at least according to Ray. This is in contrast to the picture painted by Jim's friends in the excellent new book that I recently reviewed, Friends Gathered Together, where it was stated that Jim tolerated his bandmates and that, apart from making music with them, he had no real affection for them.  It's difficult to know who to believe, but as in most cases the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle.  I would certainly believe Ray's account as far as his friendship with Jim goes, since he knew Jim the longest, by far, of anyone in the band, having first met him at UCLA in the early 1960s.  Throughout the book, it's obvious he had (and still has) a real love and affection for his friend Jim Morrison. He spends the bulk of the book lamenting Jim's alcoholism and the emergence of Jim's drunken persona, whom he labels "Jimbo."  It is quite sad to read of Ray's heartbreak and despair as he tried to help save Jim from himself, attempts which as everyone now knows were ultimately unsuccessful. I did like how critical he was of Oliver Stone and his movie "The Doors," which none of the surviving members liked, and Ray's attempts to set the record straight were both enlightening and humorous.  The other major thread running throughout the book was Ray's relationship with the love of his life, Dorothy, and it was quite heartwarming to read of his adoration of her...theirs was truly one of the rare showbiz marriages that stood the test of time.

Overall, this is an enjoyable book to read, but there are times where Ray lapses into a lot of hippie-dippie spiritual and mystical speak that tends to grate after a while.  He also seems not to have lost any of the misty-eyed idealism of the 1960s, which is fine for the most part, but he does seem a bit hypocritical when he talks of his dreams for a more utopian future and then describes how excited he was by all of the money he made in the Doors. A house, cars, clothes, musical equipment, all things he spent his well-deserved and well-earned money on, but in stark contrast to his constant talk of equality and his de-emphasis on material possessions and wealth.  It does show that Ray was human like the rest of us, and he does point out that he was only ever in the Doors to make music, stating that earning a living from it was simply a fortuitous byproduct. His writing style is very engaging and there is a lot of humor in the book, both intentional and subtle, with several laugh-out-loud moments attesting to this. It's easy to see how he can (and does) rub many Doors fans the wrong way with his enthusiasm and predilection to have an opinion on just about everything, but this is also one of the qualities that made him an enjoyable interview and the world is definitely a sadder place for his absence, not only as an interesting interviewee, but also for his musicianship.  I just wish the book didn't feel so rushed, as he spends the bulk of the book discussing his life and the early part of the Doors' career and then crams the final four albums and all that happened around them, including the infamous Miami incident and Jim's death, into the last fifty pages. It definitely makes for a somewhat unsatisfying finish to the book.  I also would have liked him to have written more about the Doors' brief post-Morrison career in the early 1970s as well as what he was up to since the band ended in 1973, but I suppose he was only staying true to the subtitle of the book and just writing about his life in the Doors.  One more minor annoyance is his constant reference to video footage of the band, which is followed by a tagline as to how the reader can rent or purchase it. I realize he was probably just trying to be helpful, but after a while it started to come off as though he was shilling for sales.  However, this is a relatively minor complaint, and either way, this is a book well worth reading for any Doors fan; a memoir from a unique man about his time in one of rock music's most unique bands.

MY RATING: 7.5/10

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BOOK REVIEW: 27: A History of the 27 Club

The story of the dead rock star is almost a sad cliche at this point in time; certainly when a famous musician dies at a young age, most people aren't surprised and in many cases, it's almost expected to happen. Drink, drugs, reckless behavior, and unhealthy lifestyles are all some of the reasons many of the top musicians of their day end up passing away before their time at an age when most of us are just starting to come into our own as adults. However, there is a small subset of these deceased stars who all have a rather eerie thing in common; this is, of course, the fact that a disproportionate number of them died at the age of 27. Brian Jones, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, and Kurt Cobain are the most famous and highest profile cases of this, but there have been numerous others, including Amy Winehouse, D. Boon, Pete Ham, Al Wilson, Robert Johnson, Pigpen McKernan, and so on. What is it about the age of 27 that seems to be so cursed? The exploration into this phenomenon is the thesis behind Howard Sounes' new book 27: A History of the 27 Club.

***special thanks to Sean and Da Capo Press for sending me a copy of the book to review!***

The term "27 Club" was coined by Kurt Cobain's mother after he died in 1994, when she said "now he's gone and joined that stupid club..." The idea behind the term has been around for decades, however, most notably after three of the highest profile rock stars of all time all died within ten months of each other: Jimi Hendrix in September 1970, Janis Joplin in October 1970, and Jim Morrison in July 1971. Their deaths brought to larger attention the fact that so many musicians before them had died at 27, and the pattern continuing to the present day has only strengthened the idea that there is something almost supernatural behind it. However, is this really the case? Author Howard Sounes takes a look at six of the highest profile deaths in order to examine this.

The book is set up as a multi-strand mini-biography of each of the subjects, starting with investigations into their births and childhoods, later going on to detail how they achieved fame, how they coped with it, and the series of events that ultimately led to their untimely and premature deaths at 27. In this way, the author hopes to see if there is any commonality between his subjects and whether the fact that they (and many others) all died at the same age is more than just mere coincidence. While the level of depth into the lives of the subjects (with the exception of Winehouse...more on this in a bit) isn't any deeper than what can be found in any potted synopsis of their lives, the author does a nice job weaving them all together, which is especially useful given how much the lives and careers of Jones, Joplin, Morrison, and Hendrix overlapped and interacted. 

While there is much that is different about them, one thing they all do have in common is their unhappy childhoods. In the cases of Morrison, Joplin, and Jones, they came from intact nuclear families that nevertheless had strained parental relationships that were not as emotionally nurturing or safe as they should have been.  Conversely, Hendrix, Cobain, and Winehouse all came from broken homes.  In all cases, all six had very strained, and sometimes nonexistent, relationships with one or both of their parents that persisted into adulthood. All found success at a relatively young ages after years of struggle, and all used drugs and alcohol in order to cope with their sudden fame and wealth, as well as to dull the pain of their unresolved traumas. In several cases (Cobain, Joplin, Hendrix) there were serious mental issues such as depression and bipolar disorder, while Brian Jones singularly seems to have simply been a nasty piece of work as a human being. Indeed, as the author points out by the end of the book, of all of the "Big Six 27s" (as he calls them), at their core they all seemed to be decent people who had serious issues, except for Jones, who seems to have just been an unlikeable character; nearly everyone he worked with or interacted with did not speak kindly of him.

The premise of the book is that there is something all of the Big Six 27s have in common may that explain their demises at the same age (as well as the others who have died at the same age)...is this really the case? I commend Sounes for debunking any supernatural connotations that many others have tried to ascribe to this tragic coincidence of age, because as he rightly points out, nearly all of them led lives of high risk.  Whether it was drugs, drink, reckless behavior, or in some cases simply bad luck, it was inevitable that unless they changed their lifestyles, that probability that it would catch up with them was inordinately high.  However, at the same time, this makes it less than surprising that any of them died, and because of this I was somewhat skeptical going into the book; is it really shocking when someone abuses their bodies with substances, lives on the edge, and as a result dies at a premature age? Obviously it's not, but regardless of that fact, it is still curious that, of all of the ages between, say 21 and 30, an unusually high proportion of these deaths occur at 27. Indeed, when plotting over 3,000 prominent musician deaths over the past 100+ years, Sounes' chart shows an prominent spike at 27. And while he doesn't offer an explanation as to why this is so surprising, he does show that given how the 27 Club members lived and the various mental and behavioral issues they struggled with, it's not unsurprising.

Getting back to the subject of the book's over-emphasis on Amy Winehouse, it does at times seem that this is a book about her with small amounts of material about the others sprinkled throughout in order to make it more broadly about the 27 Club; in the afterword Sounes admits as such when he admits that his intention going into the book was always to spend the most amount of time and detail on Amy. As someone who is not really a fan of hers, I did feel that while her story was interesting and tragic, she perhaps didn't deserve this level of emphasis nor to be put on the same level as the other five main subjects.  I will say that I am also of the opinion that her musical output (while pretty good) does not stand up to that of the other five and her iconic status seems to be based almost solely on her wild behavior and death, and not any profound cultural impact the way the other five had. It did feel as though her inclusion was either shoehorned in, or that, as I said above, this was to be a biography on her within the greater framework of the 27 Club. That being said, the book was still enjoyable and a quick, easy, and fun read. The writing style was a bit stilted and simplistic, and I'm not sure if that's simply because of the subject matter or if that's just Sounes' style (I'll know for sure when I read his biography on Paul McCartney).

Overall, this is a book that is enjoyable and thought-provoking. It doesn't really offer all that much new information apart from the sections on Amy Winehouse, although it does draw on new research the author conducted, as well as previously available information in order to debunk many of the conspiracy theories that have arisen over the years as pertaining to the deaths of Jones, Hendrix, Morrison, and Cobain (the author does not think foul play was involved in any of them).  This isn't a groundbreaking or revelatory book, but any rock music fan will enjoy it, and looking at his list of 27 Club members at the end of the book will open your eyes to the fact that if there isn't something supernatural going on behind the scenes, it's still a might strange coincidence how many of them all expired at 27.

MY RATING: 7/10

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BOOK REVIEW: Jim Morrison: Friends Gathered Together

It's hard to find a more polarizing figure in the history of rock music than Jim Morrison. In his short life, he was a gifted singer, lyricist, poet, writer, and film director and the breadth of his talents is matched only in the variety of ways he's been thought of since his untimely death in 1971. There are those who subscribe to the cult of Jim and hang on every word he ever wrote, sang, or spoke, treating him as a prophet. There are Doors fans who think he was a great frontman, singer, and lyricist but who are turned off by his antics. There are Doors fans who love the band in spite of Jim, and there are fans of his who hate the Doors and think they were only successful because of him. For many people, their most enduring and cited reference as to who Jim Morrison was is Oliver Stone's 1991 movie "The Doors." To those Doors fans who know better, and especially the people who knew Jim personally, it's frustrating to no end that the inaccuracies and exaggerations peddled in the movie have been accepted as fact over the past twenty-five years. Luckily, Frank Lisciandro has set out to dispel the myths and to show exactly who Jim Morrison really was by chronicling discussions with people who actually knew him and were close to him.

***special thanks to Steven Wheeler who sent me a copy of the book to review!***

Author Lisciandro first met Jim Morrison in 1964 at UCLA film school, where both were studying, and he became one of Jim's closest friends until the singer's death in Paris in 1971. The Morrison he knew was not the caricature that has been created in the years since his death, but instead was a smart, shy, conflicted, yet brilliant young man and a warm and generous friend. In Friends Gathered Together, editor Steven Wheeler and Lisciandro have compiled discussions with Jim's close friends and associates that Lisciandro has recorded over the years. The goal was to get fourteen different and accurate perspectives on who Jim Morrison was as a man and to strip away the layers of myth and falsehood that have been built up since he died.  Ranging from his high school buddy to people who worked at the Doors' office and the friends outside of the rock music world that Morrison was closest to, this book tells once and for all just who Jim was and, to paraphrase the author's favorite phrase in the book,  what he was really like.

I'll admit that, while I've been a Doors fan for as long as I can remember, my perception of Jim Morrison was indeed tainted by the Doors movie. Having seen the movie when it was released and again in subsequent years, I was of the school of thought that he was a talented artist who happened to be a deplorable human being. However, in recent years I've done quite a bit of independent research into the matter and gradually found that much of what I had believed as fact was actually untrue. Going into this book, I knew that Morrison wasn't really as he's been portrayed, and so I was interested to learn more about him outside of the Doors and rock music; I wanted to learn more about him as a flesh-and-blood person. I'm happy to say that on those counts, Friends Gathered Together succeeds in spades.

Beginning with a discussion with Jim's best friend from high school, Fud Ford, we get an idea of a kid who was used to constantly moving due to his father's naval career, and who seemed adept at making new friends when he had to and who was unaffected by moving on at the end of his time in any particular place. However, he was described by Ford as a shy kid who was remembered mostly for being the "funniest person I'd ever met...a real prankster." Ford is the only person interviewed who knew Jim only during his pre-fame years...the remainder of the discussions in the book are with people who met Jim sometime during or after his time at UCLA and the formation of the Doors. These range from people who worked for the Doors' office (including the author's wife), their former manager and his wife, their former road manager, and several of Jim's friends from outside of the band circle, including poet and playwright Michael McClure. The topics pertaining to Jim that are covered range from the subjects' discussions with him on politics, music, art, literature, life, and spirituality. There are also, of course, stories of some of his more adventurous antics, as well as his alcoholism and what he was really like when he was drunk. In the course of these discussions, numerous myths about him are shattered, and the true image of Morrison takes shape as a man who was actually quite shy and soft-spoken, generous to a fault, who was very rarely provoked to anger, and a man who cared so little for personal possessions that he basically had none. In addition, they are all very honest and straightforward about addressing Jim's demons, mainly his out of control alcoholism. Through all of the discussions, it's clear that first and foremost, they all cared about Jim Morrison the person, and his fame and the trappings of his stardom meant little or nothing to them. One thing the book does well is that it really humanizes Jim. It does this mainly by offering glimpses into his life as a normal guy away from the music business and the fame of the Doors. For instance, the recollection of a touch-football played amongst Jim and his friends, which included the author and some of the other interviewees in the book, is looked back with fondness and shows Morrison as just one of the guys. There are other little stories, of meals at restaurants with Jim (where he liked to order several dishes and share with the rest of the table so he could sample a little bit of everything), conversations, and his interest in seeing the world from different perspectives by really listening to the different people he talked with throughout his life. In particular, he enjoyed getting a woman's perspective on issues, and was also fascinated by the pregnancy of manager Bill Siddon's wife Cheri. It's a very different portrait of the man when compared to the way he was characterized in the media during his life, never mind the way he's been portrayed since his death.

In addition to offering personal anecdotes and showing Jim Morrison to be a real person behind his rock star persona, there are also several illuminating revelations about the Doors' career from the friends in the book since they were firsthand witnesses to these events. For instance, at the infamous Miami concert incident in 1969, Jim did not expose himself onstage (while most of the audience actually did, albeit at Jim's urging). While he did go on a drunken rant onstage that night, it wasn't any worse than several Doors gigs in months past, but the media hyped it up to such levels of hysteria that he was arrested and tried in court. However, it was a volatile situation from the outset, with an unscrupulous promoter who oversold tickets, pocketing the extra money and swindling the band out of a large amount of money. Tempers were flaring and discussions were heated hours before the band even took the stage.  Likewise with the New Haven incident from late 1967, when Jim was maced backstage by a policeman before the concert, the officer not knowing he was in the band and thinking he was just some long-haired youth up to no good. During the show, Jim berated the cops from the stage, who eventually dragged him off mid-show...and proceeded to beat him up in a parking lot (where several photographs were taken, leading to the police deciding against pressing charges). There are also tales of his crazy antics walking along tall building ledges, laying down in the middle of traffic, and other dangerous things he did. But according to his friends, he did these to test the limits and to truly feel as alive as he could, although several of his friends were cited as bad influences who egged him on to ever increasingly dangerous antics. Unfortunately, it caught up with him in Paris when various health-related issues came to a head and he died at the age of 27 in the apartment he shared with longtime girlfriend Pam Courson. She's been as enigmatic a figure in Doors history as Jim, and nearly all of the friends in the book say the same thing about her: she was aloof, cold, possessive of Jim, and unfriendly toward everyone else in the Doors' inner circle. It was also revealing that there was a division between Jim and the other three Doors...they got along for the most part and made great music together, but moved in completely different social circles outside of the band.

There are a lot of great black and white photographs throughout the book, taken by Lisciandro and showing Jim and his various friends from the book, as well as other figures from the Doors circle.  Some are from Doors concerts and while these are enjoyable, the best photos are the ones taken of Jim and his friends in candid moments: waiting in an airport, playing touch-football in a park, goofing around on a train, and so on. In addition to the recollections of his friends, these humanize him and help to portray him as more down to earth than anything else.

Friends Gathered Together is a great book that really humanizes Jim Morrison and reveals what he was like as a regular person...this isn't a book about the Lizard King, but about James Douglas Morrison the man. He had passions, dislikes, friends, quirks, and demons just like the rest of us, and he was quite different and normal to the people who knew him personally. After finishing the book, it's hard not to have a greater understanding for who he was and what he was really like, as well as how the instant and ceaseless pressures of fame (and infamy) got to be overwhelming and exasperating for him. Having read the book, I feel that I know who he was a lot better, and I have a lot of sympathy for him and what he had to deal with, especially from the press; his every word and action was dissected, analyzed, and (usually) attributed to some implied negative motive. That wasn't the real Jim Morrison, and Frank Lisciandro and Steven Wheeler have compiled a book that is essential reading for any Doors and Jim Morrison fan...a book which should be the final word on Jim Morrison not as a rock star, but as a poet, writer, singer, and friend.

MY RATING: 9.5/10

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The Doors at the Hollywood Bowl 1968

On this day in 1968, The Doors played at the Hollywood Bowl. It was one of their most triumphant and legendary shows. Luckily, the whole thing was professionally filmed. I thought many of you would enjoy this over the Independence Day weekend...enjoy!

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Family Records: A Vinyl History Tour of My Youth (Part 2 of 2)

Carrying on, here's Part 2 of a trip down memory lane as I go through the records my parents had that I grew up listening to and absorbing. I got a fantastic response to Part 1 and it was great to open up conversations with friends and fellow music fans on various message boards and social networks as they shared their own memories. Some of them were the same age as me, some are my parents' age, some are older...many enjoyed the same records, many enjoyed completely different artists and genres, but one thing that seemed to be common amongst all of us was the powerful and joyful impact that music had, captivating us as children and developing into a lifelong passion that never waned, but instead intensified and grew as we all continue to get older. I was struck by how much commonality we all had with the simple question I posed, "which records did you grow up listening to?" For me, as fun as it was to take my own trip into the past, it was just as enjoyable to read everyone else's memories and engage in the discussion (if you'd like to read it, here's the main thread).

So here is Part 2!

THE ALLMAN BROTHERS BAND

One of my favorite bands ever. My dad is a huge fan and that definitely rubbed off on me. Duane Allman and Dickey Betts were and continue to be huge influences on my guitar playing and several of the cuts on these albums were among my favorites to suss out when I was learning to play. Later on, he (and later on, I) would have all of their classic albums on cassette and later on, CD, but when I was growing up it was just these two records. Luckily, they're two of the best.

At Fillmore East (released 1971)

There's not much that can be said about this album that hasn't already been written countless times before. It is one of the greatest live albums and finds the original band at the height of their powers...sadly, they wouldn't make it to the end of the year intact, losing founding brother and spiritual leader Duane Allman in a motorcycle crash late in '71. This is one of those albums that has been played so many times by both my dad and me that it's a wonder the records haven't split from overuse! One of my bibles for learning how to play guitar, and I always loved those smoky pictures of the band onstage in the gatefold, bathed in red light and looking so cool.

Brothers and Sisters (released 1973)

Probably their biggest album, commercially, and the first after Berry Oakley died only a year (almost to the day) after Duane did, in 1972 (although Berry appears on a few songs here). I remember hearing "Ramblin' Man" and "Jessica" from this album on the radio a lot as a kid, and one of the bands that used to play at my high school used to jam on "Southbound." I always liked to spend some time as a kid trying to pick out the band members on the inner gatefold, and the insert with the dedication to Berry always struck me as a nice touch.

CREAM

Eric Clapton was, amongst all of my guitar heroes, the one who captivated me with his technique and tone just a little bit more than anyone else when I was a budding guitarist, while the sound Cream got with all three of them masters of their instruments, improvising over the loose framework of their songs just blew me away.  I remember hearing these albums (as well as their Wheels of Fire and Disraeli Gears albums on cassette) in my dad's office when he'd be listening to them and soon enough, I was listening to them on my own as well.

Fresh Cream (released 1966)

The debut album and a great (and underrated) slice of electric British blues. I remember having a hard time reconciling the fact that Eric on the front cover was the same guy I was hearing play all this cheesy radio stuff when I was a kid in the 1980s and 90s. Quite a few of these songs ended up being tried out in the bands I started playing in as a high schooler (ie "I'm So Glad," "Spoonful," etc).

Goodbye (released 1969)

Their final album and one of my favorites. I remember thinking the front and back covers were neat with the band in those silver suits with top hats and canes.  The inner gatefold was simultaneously ominous (and final) with all of those tombstones, yet bright and eye-popping with all of those colors. Musically, I did (and still do) love the juxtaposition of the three high-octane live cuts with the three strange and unique studio cuts.

Best of Cream (released 1969)

The first post-split compilation album. I've never understood what the vegetables had to do with Cream, but it's still an interesting album cover. I always liked the back photo with the band looking menacing at the height of their psychedelic look: long hair, mustaches, and Eric's necklace made out of what look to be tiger's teeth...not to mention that amazing wallpaper! This was a great album because it had some cuts that were on the UK version of Fresh Cream and hadn't been released in the US to that point.

CROSBY, STILLS, NASH, and YOUNG (and their assorted projects)

Even though I tend to favor much of the heavier rock from the 1960s and 70s, I also have a HUGE soft spot for gorgeous melodies, vocal harmonies, and well written and played songs. Since my parents did also, I've always loved CSNY and their pre-CSNY projects. My tastes when it comes to them tend to stop around 1974 but I love everything up to and including that year. As an avid singer, some of my favorite moments, now and then, involve singing along to these songs and trying a different harmony part each time.

The Byrds Greatest Hits (released 1967) and Retrospective: The Best of Buffalo Springfield (released 1969)

I'm a huge Byrds fan, loving everything they did up to 1968 before they went full-blown country, which I don't care for. This greatest hits album collected everything up to what I consider to be their best album, 1967's Younger Than Yesterday (although the following album, 1968's The Notorious Byrd Brothers, is excellent as well). I always loved their jangly sound and the way they mixed the folk, rock, and pop elements with nice harmonies into a really unique sound. As for Buffalo Springfield, I was always fascinated by the dichotomy between Young and Stills in the band...both wrote great songs (Young's "Mr Soul" and "Rock and Roll Woman," Stills' "Bluebird" and "For What It's Worth," for example) that sounded like their writers, but still had the overall band sound.

Everybody Knows This is Nowhere (released 1969)

What a great album. Apart from a couple of weak songs, everything on this album is a classic and songs like "Cinnamon Girl" (that riff!), "Down By the River," and "Cowgirl in the Sand" blew me away as a teenager and were three songs we definitely played a lot when I was in bands.

Crosby, Stills, and Nash (released 1969)

Now we get to when they all got together! For years, I always thought that the guy looking out the screen door on the back cover (not pictured) was Neil Young (it's not...it's their drummer Dallas Taylor). This album is just gorgeous and has some of my all-time favorite songs on it, like "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes," "Wooden Ships," "Pre-Road Downs"...honestly, I don't think there's a bad track on here. The furry coats they're wearing in the gatefold picture always looked funny to me, but it's cool that it still has the fold-out lyric sheet with those quintessentially 1960s drawings on it.

Deja Vu (released 1970)

With Neil Young brought into the fold now, they release what I think is their best album. It features songs by all four of them and I'm not sure you can have a better opening track than "Carry On." The transition from the chugging acoustic to that grooving electric bit in the second half, all with fantastic vocal harmonies, is spine tingling even to this day. I always liked the photos inside this one, too, and I remember thinking it was pretty cool that Jerry Garcia and John Sebastian not only guested on a couple of tracks, but were pictured in the inner collage.

4-Way Street (released 1971)

A mammoth double live album that showcases both the acoustic singer/songwriter side and the full-band electric side of CSNY. Just great stuff on this one and I spent many hours as a teenager cruising around listening to this one once I got it on CD. Dad's vinyl copy still has the original lyric sheet.

DAVID BOWIE

I love Bowie, always have. I remember hearing loads of his tunes on the radio but, strangely enough, this was the only record of his I remember listening to as a kid!

Aladdin Sane (released 1973)

A bonafide classic and one of my favorite Bowie albums. Here, he's toughened up and dirtied the glam rock from the Ziggy days and released a really cohesive collection of songs. "Panic in Detroit," "The Jean Genie," "Cracked Actor," and "Watch That Man" were favorites as a kid. Later on, I realized that apart from his decent Stones cover ("Let's Spend the Night Together"), the entire album was great. The cover always weirded me out when I was younger, but the inner sleeve with the lightning bolt from his face emblazoned across it is a neat touch.

THE DOORS

The Doors (released 1967)

Again, I'm a big Doors fan, they were a band I remember hearing on the radio all of the time as a kid, but this was the only record of theirs I remember spinning as a kid.  The long organ and guitar solo in "Light My Fire" always mesmerized me and tunes like "Soul Kitchen," "20th Century Fox," "The Crystal Ship," and "The End" were pure psychedelia and really atmospheric pieces for a kid who grew up twenty years too late to have experienced it the first time around.

AEROSMITH

Aerosmith are huge here in New England since they're native sons, hailing from Boston (and in fact, a few of them grew up in my native New Hampshire). I've never held them in as high regard as a lot of people do, but their first three albums are excellent and I've always liked them. When I was growing up, I couldn't believe the same guys who kicked ass on these records were the ones peddling slick, lame AOR hit singles in the late 1980s and early 1990s.  Some of the riffs on these records are fantastic ("Walk This Way," anyone?) and I have all of these now on CD.

Aerosmith (released 1973), Get Your Wings (released 1974), Toys in the Attic (released 1975)

SIMON AND GARFUNKEL

I liked some of their songs from the radio but wasn't terribly into them. However, one of my childhood friends REALLY got into them when we hit high school, so I had a look through my folks' collection after he turned me on to them and found these albums. I remember really liking a lot of the lesser-known tracks and I still enjoy many of these songs.

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme (released 1966), Sounds of Silence (released 1966), Greatest Hits (released 1972)

JANIS JOPLIN

Joplin In Concert (released 1972)

What a voice! Again, always heard the songs on the radio but this was the only album my parents had on vinyl. Luckily, it's a blistering document of Joplin with three different incarnations of her band. The heavy and psychedelic sound of Big Brother and the Holding Company gives way to her jazzier Kozmic Blues Band before finishing up with the funkier Full Tilt Boogie Band she was using when she died.

BILLY JOEL

I consider Billy Joel a guilty pleasure of mine, although I don't really know why since he's got loads of huge songs and albums and is well-regarded in the music world. Maybe it's just because he doesn't jibe with the rest of what I listen to, so I feel like people are surprised when I reveal I'm a huge fan. I remember hearing tons of these songs on the radio as a kid, especially in the car with my mum since she's a big fan. Once I found out we had these records, I listened to them all the time. The Stranger (released 1977) is his greatest album, I think...it's certainly my favorite. 52nd Street (released 1978) is nearly as great. Later on in high school when my best friend revealed he was a huge fan, too, we shared a love for all of Billy's albums on CD, but these two were where I first started. I do have to say, also, that I vastly preferred his 70s sound to what he was putting out during my school years (ie Storm Front and River of Dreams, event though eventually I realized those were pretty good albums, too).

JEFFERSON AIRPLANE

The Worst of Jefferson Airplane (released 1970)

Another band that I really like, but mainly their singles I'd heard on the radio. Still a great collection of their best tunes on this album, and as a kid I always got a kick out of how they called their greatest hits album the "worst."

PAUL McCARTNEY

Obviously, as a huge Beatles fan, I also like their solo work, none more so than Paul's. This was the only record of his we had, Pipes of Peace (released 1983). It's not one of his best albums but there are a few decent tracks on it. I do remember wondering why it wasn't as good as his Beatles stuff and the Wings stuff I always heard on the radio!

GENESIS

A Trick of the Tail (released 1976)

I didn't become a fan of old school Genesis until later in life (in my 20s) because all I knew of them from a kid were the slick AOR songs they played on the radio in the 1980s. My mum was a huge fan of them and Phil Collins' stuff then as well, so I never got into this record until my dad played me the title track and I realized this was very different from what they later became. It's now one of my favorite albums of theirs. The artwork looks great, much better on a full-sized album than on the CD I now have.

PETER FRAMPTON

I always liked Frampton and I remember my dad had a copy of Frampton Comes Alive! that I used to hear him playing a lot (I couldn't find it when I was putting this piece together...I'll have to ask him where it is). This was one of Peter's albums that came before it, Wind of Change (released in 1972). I liked this record, especially "All I Want to Be (Is By Your Side)," but I didn't really appreciate it (or the rest of his solo stuff) until I got older and realized how great a guitarist and writer he was.

That wraps up my journey back in time to when I was a kid learning all about music and soaking it all in, figuring out what I liked and, later on, how I could incorporate it into my own musical style. I hope you've all enjoyed it and that it's inspired take some time to look back on where you came from in terms of music and it's importance in your life. At the very least, I hope it inspires you to dig through your records and see what gems you may have forgotten about!

As always, please feel free to comment or share your own memories in the comments section below!

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