Fifty years after its release, the flawed third studio album from San Francisco psychedelic titans The Grateful Dead finds itself reissued. The album was the band experimenting in the studio in an attempt to make an innovative studio album, thanks to the arrival of sixteen track technology. Unfortunately, it would become the band’s costliest studio album, resulting in an oddly dreadful sounding rush-released album that would get a full remix two years later. This collection features both mixes, as well as a handful of live recordings from a few months prior to its release.
Though Hootie & The Blowfish were easily one of the most annoyingly ubiquitous bands of the Nineties, their debut album was an album worthy of the hype and success. Twenty-five years later, it’s still the rare thing: a critically underrated album that happened to sell twenty-one million copies, and this boxed set offers up a wonderful document of how one of the best-selling albums of all time came to be.
This collection of the earliest recordings from Oklahoma City legends the flaming lips gathers up their earliest recordings featuring visionary Wayne Coyne’s brother Mark on vocals. This compilation is the first installment of a series of every issues dedicated to celebrating the band’s 35th anniversary.
Taken from the Rhino release, Playback: The Brian Wilson Anthology.
Y Kant Tori Read, released in 1988, was the proper debut of Tori Amos. She would since disown the project, and the album languished for decades as a rarity. Thus, its low-key digital reissue this month warrants a revisit, and it shows that Amos’s feelings might not have been correct, as it’s a fine album that isn’t nearly as bad as she thinks, and clearly establishes the direction of her solo career.
For their third album, rockers The Cars decided to experiment with their sound and get in tune with what their contemporaries were doing. It didn’t quite work out, and Panorama quickly fell between the cracks. This reissue shows that while the album might not be in the same league as the albums that came before or after, it was a noble attempt to do something new.
Pantera’s fourth major-label album, 1996’s The Great Southern Trendkill, was the band’s most aggressive, most intense album; twenty years later, it has lost none of its potency. Yet in retrospect, it feels like it should have been the band’s final statement, the high note that should have been used to bring the increasingly unhappy and dysfunctional band to a close.
Part three of our examination of the albums that made 2016 notable.
Brian Wilson’s debut solo album came twenty-seven years into his career, at the time a feat no one expected from the forty-five year old drug casualty. It’s a flawed record but not without its charm.
Faith No More’s first two records with Mike Patton as vocalist provide an excellent glimpse of a pretty good band morphing into something much greater.