The Stooges at the peak of their decadence

The Stooges – Metallic K.O. (1973, 1974)

This album sounds like it was recorded at some smoke-hazed cellar club where people are doing both kinds of blow in the bathroom, and it’s too crowded to even try and walk through the sea of rabid, dysfunctional twenty-somethings. The recording quality is so bad you’d think the sound guy was just some idiot picked off the street trying to score some money for pot. The album sounds so rough, the performances are full of obvious mistakes, and after you blast these tracks through your speakers you’ll be clinching like you just heard a thousand nails on an electric chalkboard.

So, why would anyone hold this album in high regard? Fuck man, ‘cause this is exactly what The Stooges are supposed to sound like. I don’t want to hear these guys playing a sold-out show for 100,000 people at Wembley stadium. The Stooges are a band who play shitty clubs for a handful of people, concerned with stuff that today's rock 'n' roll superstars wouldn't think twice about – like Iggy Pop yells into the mic back in ’74 “how much time do we have ‘til the power gets cut off?” 

This album is made up of a show on October 6, 1973, and The Stooges' final show–on February 9, 1974–before they broke up. You can tell in both shows how influenced Iggy is by Jim Morrison; he’s conversational on stage, he rants, he talks in slurs, and he improvises a lot of the lyrics on the spot, but you can’t ever mistake the two, especially not on a show like this.

What Iggy lacks in poetry, he more than makes up for in power and passion. He doesn’t sing the words, they burst out of his throat. Each time he barks, it sounds like he's about to cough up a lung. James Williamson is full of flaws as a guitar player, but he too, makes up for it with a guitar sound that could be used for a demolition crew. You can hear him pushing his amp so hard and so loud you can almost feel the speakers ripping apart from the inside. On bass Ron Asheton's—I’m just going to guess who was on the bill those days, so correct me if I’m wrong–Scott Thurston’s also got his amp so loud that his bass is distorting and causing so much feedback he has to keep it pounding harder than usual. With Scott Asheton setting a thunderous pace on drums, you don’t just have a wall of sound. You’ve got a fucking battalion. (Thanks to Dustin James for confirming the line-up).

Even the slow numbers sound visceral and diseased. “Gimme Danger” and “Open Up and Bleed” are full of improvised, almost pretentious lyrics–especially the latter. It's like Iggy’s some kind of Warholian exhibitionist selling the crowd his own decadence, and if he were in front of me right now–after I get over being starstruck–I’d gladly let him have every dime in my wallet. That’s because this guy challenged our perception of what art is and what art should be.

Punk rock was all about the message, and their depraved aesthetic was the building block for a new school of rock music. The Stooges invented punk rock along with The MC5, and The Velvet Underground, and what sets them apart from the ’77 bands is that they all oozed a different kind of personality, charisma, and some kind of charm that danced on the land-mine line between rock 'n' roll and punk. It was something different, almost Vaudevillian in its decadent attractiveness, and no one did it better than The Stooges.

The Stooges remind me of Hunter S. Thompson describing his character Gonzo from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: “There he goes. One of God’s very own prototypes. Some kind of high-powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live and too rare to die.”

If you don’t like it, and you feel compelled to cast the proverbial tomato, Iggy would probably tell you what he told the crowd back in ’73: “you pricks can throw every goddamn thing in the world, and your girlfriend will still love me, you jealous cocksuckers.”

Image from lucyphotos.com

The Stooges preach the credo of raw power. This live album is as raw and powerful as a bloody steak slapped across the face. Finding any live material from pre-1974 Stooges is a hassle enough on its own, but to find two full bootlegged shows available to anyone with an iTunes account (or Internet access, really) is incredible. I only wish I could see these shows live.

You hear all these myths and legends about The Stooges' live performances back at the peak of their decadence, but we're only exposed to a handful of bootlegs in audio and even fewer video recordings. If you've chewed up the records and need an extra fix, cook up a batch of Metallic K.O. and serve it straight up your favorite vein.

One Way... Or Another by Cactus - Why this cactus stayed out in the desert

The Band: Cactus

• Rusty Day (Vocals, Harmonica)
• Jim McCarty (Guitar)
• Tim Bogert (Bass)
• Carmine Appice (Drums)

The Album: One Way... Or Another (1971)

Key Tracks: Song For Aries, Hometown Bust, One Way... Or Another

Score: 3.5 / 5

Sounds like:

Distorted and fuzzed up blues boogie with drum and bass virtuosity, soaring lead work, power-soul vocals, and a more modern take on Delta-style harp. Some subtle elements of early heavy metal, but with a consistent Southern vibe full of funky grooves.

Listen:

Cactus were a supergroup from the 1970s, both in the sense that their members were the alumni of incredible bands, and in the sense that they've got super powers . . . Like Superman.

Rusty Day used to sing for Amboy Dukes, the band that made Ted Nugent famous; Jim McCarty (not to be confused with The Yardbirds’ drummer) played guitar in Buddy Miles Express, one of the remnant bands of Jimi Hendrix’ Band of Gypsies; while Tim Bogert and Carmine Appice were the rhythm section of Vanilla Fudge, a great 60’s psychedelic band that set the foundation for hard rock in the 70’s. Appice is the guy that influenced every drummer from John Bonham and Ian Paice to Nicko McBrain and Dave Lombardo. So putting all of these guys together in one band should give us nothing short of a classic album. Unfortunately, “short” is the only word that holds relevance when you’re talking about this album as a whole.

The most serious and persistent problem they seemed to have was channeling the energy of their super powers to give us a full-fledged, legendary album. You know what I'm talking about, right? The kind of album where you can't seem to pick which song's better than which; or the kind where you've memorized the chronological sequence of the songs, 'cause you've heard it so damn much. In a nutshell, I mean the kind of album where every song deserves a solid 5 out of 5 stars without even thinking about it twice. When I think of albums like that, I imagine Deep Purple's "Machine Head," or something like Iggy and The Stooges’ “Raw Power,” or Led Zeppelin IV. However, what I don't imagine, is Cactus' "One Way... Or Another." Again, that’s because Cactus kept falling short of their full potential on this album.

The album kicks off with such a strong, commanding, in-your-face note. It screams out of Jim McCarty's amplifier all fuzzed up and dirty, then it falls into a 50's influenced boogie rhythm. It's a groovy rhythm, no doubt, - it's full of swagger and attitude - but we're missing that intense musicianship we're used to from Cactus' former Vanilla Fudge rhythm section. They seem to be taking it easy here, and they keep on taking it easy throughout "Long Tall Sally," a cover of a Little Richard song; "Rockout, Whatever You Feel Like;" and the first part of "Rock 'N' Roll Children.” So basically, we're waiting through three songs for Appice and Bogert to hit us with the powerful, driving rhythms you'd expect them to pull off. Sure, they kind of tease you here and there, but that's all they do.

The third track, "Rock 'N' Roll Children," opens with another boogie rhythm under the late Rusty Day’s vocals with the rest of the group singing back-up. The bass line is mean and growling, often distracting from the guitar work. And that’s definitely a good thing in this case. But the band don't hit you hard until Appice starts galloping into the solo like a fucking stampede. McCarty and Bogert start a dueling bass and guitar solo like gunfire hitting you from either side. And now, finally, we're listening to Cactus. You only wish this track would go on longer. Sadly, the stampede hit the edge of the cliff too soon, at a little under six minutes.

"Big Mama Boogie, Parts I & II" builds up slowly from an acoustic Delta-style guitar and harp dance. It's like the morning songs I put on while I'm flipping pancakes and grilling sausages. But then the stove catches fire and the kitchen fills with smoke when Appice comes out of no where like a fucking machine gun, Bogert's fingers slipping all over the fingerboard of his overdriven bass, and McCarty tearing it all up, this time battling with Day's harp, and the beautiful madness that is Cactus comes out again. Their brilliant, organized chaos punches you right in the gut. And then again, they end it in under six minutes. Why the fuck do they always do this? All of these songs are the perfect foundation for 9-minute epics like Grand Funk Railroad's "Inside Looking Out" or Humble Pie's "Live With Me," but it's like they're worried about their tape budget or something.

The next song, a cover of "Feel So Bad," is only slightly better than Chuck Willis' original. It's forgettable, and sounds like Cactus are trying to be psychedelic. There's really nothing interesting to say about this song, except for the fact that it precedes one of the greatest instrumentals I've ever heard, "Song For Aries."

"Song For Aries" is so fucking eerie. It kicks off with an acoustic chord progression that sounds very similar to The Beatles' "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," emphasizing the similarities even more with McCarty's wah-guitar lead work. I imagine a campfire where a group of soldiers are gathered before a battle they know they can't win. The acoustic guitar comes in like it's David’s theme song as he prepares himself to face Goliath. It brings the soldiers' spirits up slowly. Then Appice goes mad with his drum work, like he's the commanding officer, ordering the soldiers to get up and face the enemy. And then McCarty's guitar screams: "Get up! It's time for war!" Ladies and gentlemen, this is Cactus.

"Song For Aries" is like a spell cast on the remainder of the album, making sure the rest of it is all perfect. And without a fucking doubt, the next two songs are milestones of rock 'n' roll history.

"Hometown Bust" is a story of a man whose "friends are getting locked up." It's a blues standard that's been served so well. McCarty shows us a deep understanding of double-tracked guitar harmonies that wouldn't catch on in popularity until Judas Priest and Iron Maiden almost a decade later. Day's voice is unbelievably passionate, full of the blues, visceral and soaring like he had the soul of a tired old black man. The song swings back and forth between McCarty's beautiful acoustic guitar and Day's harp that sounds like a jailbird on death row. Then out of the blue, McCarty tears it up, and Bogert and Appice join in to give us Cactus' chaos once more. McCarty and Day steal the spotlight from each other over Appice's foreshadowing "tap, tap, tap" of the hi-hat. Then it's chaos all over again, bringing your emotions up and down like the sickest roller-coaster you could ever imagine. Bogert keeps the mood dark throughout, to the point that you can't help but feel the blues in the song. The Vanilla Fudge alumni hold the rhythm so well while embellishing and filling it all up in a way that makes it seem effortless.

The album leads us to its closing title-track, a song that really is rock 'n' roll at its best, “One Way... Or Another.” If this song was five seconds long, I'd still give it a solid five stars . . . One for each second. The song is built on an incredible guitar riff that's loud, heavy, full of power and soul, and just the right amount of speed. Appice, like the insane architect of rock 'n' roll drumming he is, pushes us deeper into the song while Bogert carries the chord progression forward with the kind of expertise that would make Jack Bruce shiver. Day's commanding vocals make sure the lyrics get to you: "One way or another you go through life / You live alone, you keep a wife / You beat the law, you leave your hometown / Finding out it's hard when you're all alone and brought down." Cactus demand your full attention like a good rock 'n' roll band should, and you give it to them willingly. Then the song travels into the coolest fucking breakdown I've ever heard. Cactus use their boogie roots here the way they should have throughout the entire album. This part introduces a shift in rhythm where Bogert and Appice cool it down, while making damn sure you know that Cactus' chaos is coming. Then out of nowhere: "BAM BAM!" - the band in perfect sync, with two explosions like a shotgun to the brain, they take us over to the solo. Appice and Bogert bring McCarty's 10 out of 10 performance on the solo up, and make it a beyond-perfect 12 out of 10. Then Day comes back in to sing, but the solo doesn't stop; McCarty just rolls his volume down for a more subtle vibe. Bogert drives us crazy with his bass work, hitting every note the right way while making sure he's everywhere at the same time. There is no criticism for this song. It's perfect. This song has all the reasons why I love rock 'n' roll rooted in the fingertips, hands and throats of these amazing musicians.

It's just sad that the album doesn't have much more to offer than those last three songs. Cactus remind us with "Hometown Bust" and "One Way... Or Another" why they've been called the American Led Zeppelin. If the rest of the album was as solid as those two songs, I’d have given it a much higher score, and we'd all probably be calling Led Zeppelin the British Cactus.

Come Taste, Uh . . . Taste – Ireland’s hard rocking power-trio

The band: Taste

• Rory Gallagher (guitar, vocals)
• Richard “Charlie” McCracken (bass)
• John Wilson (drums)

The album: Taste (self-titled) (1969) - Buy On Amazon.com

Key Tracks:

Sugar Mama, Born On The Wrong Side Of Time, Catfish

Score: 4.3 / 5

Sounds like:
A mix of progressive blues, british invasion and mod rock, doused with some hard rockin' crunch and grit. It's even got some acoustic, pedal steel country songs and some delta-style traditional blues numbers with a progressive/jazzy touch.

Samples:

 Sugar Mama (Sample)

Born On The Wrong Side Of Time (Sample)

Catfish (Sample)

    Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf might’ve electrified the Delta, but Taste were one of the bands that cranked the Mississippi up to 11. These three guys from Cork, Ireland, rock harder than anyone that came before them and harder than a lot of the bands that came after. It makes me wonder if hard rock really came to be with the Union Jack waving above the UK’s rockers, because it looks like it's got  greener roots judging by these guys.

    After listening to this album, I wonder what would’ve happened if Cream opened for Taste back in 1970 instead of the other way around. Yep, Taste opened for Cream. They also played Isle of Wight with a hell of a lot of great bands, including Hendrix and The Who. Unfortunately, Taste is one of the least recognized bands from the Isle of Wight line-up.

    Taste’s first album is a real testament to their musical genius. It’s got some incredible rearrangements of classic blues tracks. The guitar work is so human and alive that it moves you in every way possible. The bass lines got me swaying back and forth with their incredible grooves, and count on the drums for full-bodied detail and dynamism.

    Some songs were stronger than others, but everything on the album was worth listening to. And while John Wilson and Charlie McCracken are an incredible rhythm section, the album’s really a showcase of Rory Gallagher’s talent as a guitar player and singer. His acoustic noodling on tracks like  “Leaving Blues” and “Hail” make you wonder just how many hours this guy spent with his guitar everyday. When I listen to those tracks I imagine Gallagher sitting on a rocking chair out on some front porch by a farm, crooning with his acoustic guitar deep in the American south.

    Of course, with a bass player and drummer as talented as McCracken and Wilson, Taste become a lot more than just another guitar-band. McCracken takes the cake on tracks like “Dual Carriageway Pain,” where a standard 12-bar blues rhythm transforms into a full on hootenanny thanks to his bass' powerful presence. I can imagine a barn dance with a bunch of people clapping along to this one. Then there’s “Same Old Story;” that’s got one hell of a groovy, swinging bass line that’s complimented by McCracken’s slightly overdriven and compressed tone. I get that big city vibe from this song, like I’m cruising along with the boys, barhopping the night away.

    The thing about McCracken is that he’s a highly intuitive bass player. Sure, the equipment contributes to it a lot, - he used a lot of old tube amps and passive bass electronics - but what sets him apart from other bass players is his ability to create a thick layer of emotion that’s easily distinguished from Gallagher’s guitar work, which often steals the spotlight.

    Now if you want to talk about the drums, you’ve got to dig into the album's more serious stuff. On tracks like “Catfish” and “Sugar Mama,” I’d probably bet on Wilson in a drum-off against Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham. The guy used every drum and cymbal in his set to get the listener’s emotions floating at the whim of his drum sticks, skyrocketing them high up and bringing them crashing back down with an incredible amount of force and precision. The guy’s got rhythm, that’s a given, but to be able to come up with some pretty complex drum patterns and fills, while keeping up with McCracken’s bass lines and Gallagher’s mad guitar work, you’d need to be more than just a well versed drummer.

    Wilson obviously comes from a background of Jazz drumming. We hear this most evidently in songs like “Catfish,” where Wilson uses everything from rim-shot snare work in a standard 12-bar shuffle to full on rock ‘n’ roll drum filling and engaging cymbal work. He’s a breath of fresh air in the late 60’s - early 70’s rock 'n' roll scene, which is full of power rock drumming; where guys like Keith Moon of The Who rely more on speedy, full-force drum fills rather than dynamics. On the other hand, you've got guys like Charlie Watts from The Rolling Stones holding simple beats and not really pushing the boundaries of what his instrument can accomplish. Wilson has neither of these problems. 

    On those same two tracks Gallagher rips it all up with some of the most soulful guitar playing I’ve ever heard. This guy probably made Jimi Hendrix and Pete Townshend’s knees shake at Isle of Wight during Taste’s set. But what really sets him apart from the rest is his use of his guitar’s full tonal potential. Here’s a guy that really knows his instrument inside and out. I can hear him playing with the guitar’s volume knob, lowering it a bit to get a nice sparkly clean sound to play his soothing chord work, then flicking it all the way up, pushing his amp into mad overdrive for some of the grittiest blues riffs to come out of the 60’s. Gallagher doesn’t just bend a note during a solo; he gives it so much depth and texture with his vibrato. You get the feeling that his guitar is alive and that it’s singing and talking and screaming at you all at once. It’s so alive that you can even hear it crackle and hum out of the speakers when he’s switching around through his guitar’s different tones in between fills and solos. Call it under-produced if you want, but I call it real and organic.

    It’s also important to mention Gallagher’s soloing on the heavier tracks, ‘cause this guy really rips it up. He’s got perfect timing with his razor-sharp, biting lead work and his trailing, pulsating bends. Sometimes, and this is probably ‘cause he sings and plays guitar simultaneously, you find Gallagher singing the notes he's playing on his guitar. I’ve heard a few guys do that as well, but man did he pull it off right! Whether it’s singing the lyrics in the same melody as his lead guitar work on the verse in “Catfish” or vocalizing the notes to the solo in “Same Old Story” without attaching any words, you get the sense that he’s using his voice to add another layer over the guitar in perfect sync, making the overall sound more polyphonic and adding depth and texture to his instrument.

    With an album that relies heavily on blues reinterpretations, you begin to wonder if the band can hold their own writing a song from scratch. “Born On The Wrong Side Of Time” proves that these guys have a lot of depth and vision in their songwriting. It takes you on a wild ride of emotion, ranging from the intro that comes at you like a freight train, to the chilling, even ominous, breakdown with intense lyrics about time and death that make you want to reevaluate your whole life. The song picks you back up with the guitar solo breaking all conventions of composition, borrowing from Jazz phrasings blowing out of Gallagher's speakers all fuzzed up and distorted. So yeah, these guys can definitely write a song. And they really know how to infuse a lot of Jazz elements into rock music, but outside of “Born On The Wrong Side Of Time,” it isn’t very obvious on this album.

    With the high points out of the way, a review’s got to mention a couple of shortcomings as well, right? Yeah, well, there are a few, but with a score like 4.3 out of 5, it’s kind of hard to justify bashing this album about anything. Sure, I wish the album was more consistent. Some of the tracks felt out of place thematically and even musically. I wasn’t happy with the choice of “I’m Moving On” as the album’s closing track, and thought it would’ve ended with a blast if it were switched around with “Catfish” instead, but that’s no big deal, really. I liked all the songs on this album, though I think the acoustics would’ve been better left for an album on their own. (Think about the difference between Led Zeppelin II and Led Zeppelin III, for example). Besides, these problems could’ve easily been the fault of some lame suit at their record company, Polydor, looking for a hit. But whoever gave the final word on the arrangement of the tracks on the album should've thought about the album as a journey, and how interrupting the acoustic tracks were between the emotional 6-minute-plus epics. A better layout would've helped this album a lot more.

    Another thing I can't help but miss on this album is more of the band’s compositions, ‘cause they really pulled all the stops on “Born On The Wrong Side Of Time.” Instead, we’ve got an album that’s predominantly blues and country covers. Sometimes this is a good thing, like in the case of The Jeff Beck Group’s “Truth” and “Beck-Ola” albums. But in the case of Taste’s first album, - though I love the blues reinterpretations - I would’ve settled for only two - “Sugar Mama” and “Catfish” - instead of getting a bunch of songs that really sound like fillers at some points. Taste have the ability to write epics, which they displayed somewhat on their second album “On The Boards.” Sometimes this album felt more like a compilation rather than a sonic experience, the latter being what I think an album should deliver. This album would’ve been a perfect five with the right balance between trailing, progressive compositions and blues reinterpretations, and less "songs."

    All in all, this album should be in every hard rock junkie’s collection. The album’s inconsistency can be justified with the idea of it being broad, and laid out for a wider group of listeners ranging from country buffs to blues purists to mod rockers and proto punks – like the vibe you get from the album's opener, “Blister On The Moon.” Go ahead, put this album on, break out a cold pint of Guinness and get lost in Taste you won’t forget your whole life over.