Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Here we are at the last of the three posts which highlight worthy candidates for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s auxiliary categories. I have for your consideration a dozen picks for the now seldom-used Early Influence category. One problem is that the past keeps catching up to us: artists like Wanda Jackson and Freddie King were given a backdoor induction into the Hall through this category after failing to get enough votes as performers on the ballot. It’s problematic, partly because our criteria for “early” keeps changing.  The Nom Com grows less likely to pick artists from rock and roll’s infancy and voters are less likely to choose them when they do.

  1. Sister Rosetta Tharpe: This gospel blueswoman has become a cause célèbre among Rock Hall followers. Listen to her music and you can hear the blueprints of rock and roll being painstakingly drawn up. While the blues and country are important strands of the story, both are riddled with loss and lamentation. Where does the joy come from? I think it’s the gospel influences, and their call-and-responses, their profound hope are a large part of the answer.  Tharpe had all that in spades, and had all the marks of authenticity classic rockers love: she played the guitar, and she wrote her own music. She helped bring gospel into the mainstream, merging the genre in a convincing synthesis with the jump blues. Sister Rosetta was all about rock and roll’s paramount mission: finding a meeting ground of the sacred and the profane. She helped usher Little Richard into fame, and was listed as a major formative influence for artists as varied as Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Aretha Franklin, and Tina Turner. There’s even hints of social conscience to come in her music– listen to her admonition to “study war no more” in the gospel classic “Down By the Riverside.”
  2. Patsy Cline: You can certainly make an argument for Patsy Cline to get in as a performer rather than an influence. The chronology is right, but for me, the genre isn’t. She was a Nashville-centered country-and-western artist who recorded material almost wholly from that milieu. Maybe if she had lived longer, she might have done a trio with the Everly Brothers, or gone on tour with Linda Ronstadt or something, but we’ll never know. What we do know is how Patsy Cline is one of the most articulate and resonant popular music vocalists of the 20th century, and her contralto sound looms large over a throng of vocalists. To listen to her songs is to know loneliness and loss intimately.
  3. Ivory Joe Hunter: Fellow Rock Hall guy Charles Crossley recently came up with a master list of 1,100 artists for Cleveland’s consideration that puts my list of 100 to shame. #1 on his list is Ivory Joe Hunter. My own philosophy is that artists who peaked artistically before 1954 should be “early influences”– and Hunter would be a very fine addition in that category. His work in the late 40s and early 50s found a way to merge blues and country- two of the “primary color” genres that created rock and roll. While other artists in these genres were ragged, Hunter was often smooth and soulful, and his “Landlord Blues,” “Since I Met You Baby,” and “Pretty Mama Blues” are essential listening.
  4. The Carter Family: The Carters lit up the country circuit as far back as 1926 and remained a presence on the American music scene well into the 1950s and 1960s. Maybelle Carter was one of the first country singers to use a guitar, and with the help of Leslie Riddle, they scoured the countryside for the music of the South, Appalachia, and the Ozarks. In doing so, their songs, “Will The Circle Be Unbroken,” “Keep on the Sunny Side,” and “Wildwood Flower” remain standards to this day. June Carter, of course, was part of this family line.
  5. Roy Brown: Dave Marsh, in his book of rock lists, went to town trying to list over 100 candidates for the very first rock and roll song. Quite a few of them were Roy Brown’s- no doubt, you’ve heard “Good Rocking Tonight,” and maybe “Rockin’ at Midnight” and “Hard Luck Blues” as well. Rolling Stone’s Encyclopedia of Rock and Roll notes that he was a fundamental part of shaping the New Orleans sound, and that B.B. King and Bobby Bland modeled their singing style after his enthusiastic jump blues vocals.
  6. Charlie Patton: Tom Lane has brought Patton’s name up on his own blog as a possible Early Influence nominee. And since Patton is widely regarded as “The Father of the Delta Blues,” it’s hard to deny him that honor. His epic “High Water Everywhere” told the tale of the devastating 1927 Mississippi floods. Temperamental, wild, and dying at the age of 43, leaving a trail of wives and girlfriends in his wake, he lived the quintessential blues life.
  7. Sonny Boy Williamson I: The blues changed the moment Williamson stepped forward and used the harmonica as a lead instrument. His output shaped the Chicago blues scene, and he even served as a mentor to Muddy Waters and Jimmy Rogers. His murder at the age of 34 ended the life of a great artist. It’s not his fault that another harmonica player purloined his name and made a career out of being a Sonny Boy imposter.
  8. Lonnie Donegan: The fate of the world changed unexpectedly when Lonnie Donegan became the face of the skiffle craze in Britain in the 1950s. All across the British Isles, youngsters imitated Donegan’s use of homemade instruments like tea-chest basses and washboard percussion as he performed Jimmie Rodgers and Lead Belly songs in a fast, fervent style. It’s well known that the Quarrymen began as a skiffle group, unskilled even by the genre’s undemanding standards- but Ronnie Wood, Graham Nash, Roger Daltrey, and Robin Trower all started out as British skiffle devotees. It introduced a generation of schoolchildren in the U.K. to Americana.
  9. Harry Belafonte: It’s hard to believe- but Harry Belafonte vs. Elvis Presley was a legitimate teen idol debate in 1956. At the same time as ElvisMania began, the calypso craze engulfed America. Belafonte was its herald, as his album Calypso stayed at #1 for 8 weeks. Belafonte’s music tried to find points of connection between the folk music ethic and the music of his Caribbean ancestry. In the process, Belafonte developed a profound social conscience. He was a strong celebrity presence in the civil rights movement; how many people know that he paid for Martin Luther King, Jr.’s funeral out of his own pocket? His battles blazed a path for future rock and roll entertainers. When Petula Clark touched his arm when they sang “On the Path to Glory” on Clark’s television show, it ignited a national controversy. No white woman had touched a black man on national television. When Southern television stations threatened to not show the program, Belafonte told Clark, “let’s take ’em on.” Clark’s producer destroyed all other takes of their duet without touching, and the show was broadcast to rave reviews. Belafonte, I might add, is also on good terms with the Rock Hall. He helped induct both Pete Seeger and Public Enemy.
  10. Tom Lehrer: This Harvard-trained mathematics professor was also one of the greatest satirists of the 20th century. When Borscht Belt foolishness like Allan Sherman dominated musical comedy, his dark, cynical perspective skewered Cold War nihilism with such numbers as “We Will All Go Together When We Go” and “So Long Mom.” In an age where cloying numbers about halcyon days past were topping the charts, Lehrer turned The Browns’ “The Old Lamplighter” into “The Old Dope Peddler.” Any time a rock and roller uses satire to skewer a social problem, they owe Lehrer a debt- whether it’s Randy Newman songs, Weird Al’s sharper material (“Whatever U Like,” “Skipper Dan”), Dead Kennedy’s “Holiday in Cambodia” or Faith No More’s “We Care A Lot.”
  11. Odetta: Folk met the blues with this singular talent. Folk music could at times be wearily NPR-ish and insistent on authenticity, but Odetta made sure it had the blues’ naturalism and rhythm intact. The folk revival of the 1950s and early 1960s laid the groundwork for rock and roll to address the great struggles that would face the nation in the Vietnam era, and Odetta was one of the most crucial figures in that movement. Like recent Rock Hall inductee Joan Baez, she sang at the March on Washington and was a steady presence at civil rights marches. Oh- and Bob Dylan credits her as the person who piqued his interest in folk music.
  12. Django Reinhardt: Behold- Europe’s first guitar hero. His gypsy stylings worked beautifully with jazz, and everyone from Chet Atkins to The Allman Brothers have imitated his fluid stylings. The photographer Harry Benson once remembered from his time with The Beatles: John loved talking about the intellectuals he had met. Paul loved talking about the movie stars he’d met. Ringo loved talking about the royalty he’d met. George talked about Django Reinhardt. “I’ll never be as good as he is,” Benson recollected Harrison saying, “but that’s what I’m aiming for.” Or consider Jerry Garcia’s praise: “His technique is awesome! Even today, nobody has really come to the state that he was playing at. As good as players are, they haven’t gotten to where he is. There’s a lot of guys that play fast and a lot of guys that play clean, and the guitar has come a long way as far as speed and clarity go, but nobody plays with the whole fullness of expression that Django has.”
  13. Ah, what the heck. Let’s make it a baker’s dozen and include Wynonie Harris. His profane variations of the jump blues had the swing and verve that is identifiable as protean rock and roll. Even a young Elvis Presley watched him, and incorporated his vocal stylings and physical presence into his own act. With songs like “I Like My Baby’s Pudding,” you can see where Big Joe Turner and others got the idea of lacing their songs with delicious innuendo.  Harris helped bring “race music,” as it was called back then, from the (relative) margins and into the public consciousness.
Advertisements

Last time, I listed 20 ideal recipients of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s Musical Excellence Award. I am now going to pivot to Non-Performers. In doing so, I realize that there is a fine, sometimes arbitrary line between these categories. I suppose many of these individuals are performers in some aspect or another. But their work behind the scenes took priority. In no particular order, my 15 picks for Non-Performers for the Rock Hall’s consideration.

  1. Robert Moog: Um…he invented the electronic synthesizer. Even if EDM isn’t your bag, imagine Depeche Mode, or Van Halen’s “Jump”, or 70s art rock or Abbey Road without this remarkable instrument. He’s in the Inventors Hall of Fame– so why not the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?
  2. Rick Rubin: What a great career, what an eclectic mastery of production. He started Def Jam, an institutional pillar of hip-hop. He produced great albums for artists all over the map, ranging from Jay Z to The Black Keys to Beastie Boys to Johnny Cash to Red Hot Chili Peppers to Tom Petty to…ah, you can look it up for yourself. Put this man in the hall.
  3. Sylvia Robinson: I’m shocked that her life hasn’t been made into a musical at this point. She started out as half of the Mickey & Sylvia duo that had a hit with “Love Is Strange” back in the 1950s. Flash forward 15 years, and a largely forgotten starlet has lightning strike a second time. She records some music with Al Green and scores an R&B #1 with “Pillow Talk,” one of the first true disco records. Using money from her recent success, she starts Sugarhill Records, and ends up producing the first rap song to break into the public consciousness, “Rapper’s Delight”– strapping on a bass herself to emulate the famous Chic bass line. Goes on to produce “The Message” for Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. Holy Crap.
  4. Alan Lomax: It’s the 1930s and America is in the midst of the Depression. One of the cleverer moves of the New Deal was to give artists and intelligentsia something to do in hopes the they wouldn’t foment a bloody revolution out of ennui and material deprivation. Accordingly, Alan Lomax and his father John, two ethnomusicologists, were dispatched down South to study the music of rural- and particularly black- America. His oral history projects allowed Jelly Roll Morton and other artists to record their thoughts in addition to their recordings. His radio shows broadcast folk music and so-called “race music’ to the rest of the country, the conduit by which many Americans became aware of Woody Guthrie, Robert Johnson, Pete Seeger, and Lead Belly.
  5. Burt Bacharach & Hal David: One reason this famous songwriting team hasn’t gotten in is because their compositions evoke cocktail hour, plastic on the furniture, and beehive hairdos on housewives. View them, if you like, as the progenitors of adult contemporary, music informed by rock and roll designed for older listeners. Hey, that’s how Journey got in. And Bacharach-David compositions hold up just as well: “Baby, It’s You,” “Walk On By,” “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head,” “(They Long To Be) Close To You,” “Wishing and Hoping,” “I Say A Little Prayer for You.” Milquetoast songs, perhaps, but that’s partly because of who recorded them. Listen to Aretha’s “Little Prayer” and you’ll hear the power that’s dormant in these compositions.
  6. Joe Meek: When I was an 18-year-old studying in London, little did I know that every time I walked by Holloway Road on my way to the Highbury & Islington tube stop, I was passing by rock and roll’s holy ground. Using electronic wizardry with a  homemade control panel, Joe Meek is credited with the development of reverb, extensive multi-tracking, physically separating instruments during the recording process, and sampling in his nondescript studio on Holloway Road. Paranoid, drug-adled, and a gay man during a time when same-sex acts were still illegal in the UK, Meek did not live an easy or serene life. He ultimately killed his landlady before turning the trigger on himself. Strangely, Nick Moran’s film Telstar barely moved the dial on raising awareness of this singular visionary.
  7. Bob Geldof: One of the elements of rock and roll’s story that I most appreciate is its charitable and beneficent impulses. Live Aid and Band Aid were overblown, overhyped, and rightly mocked by Faith No More’s “We Care A Lot.” Most of the money didn’t get to the people it was intended for in Africa. Worse, much of the largesse ended up in the hands of the Ethiopian dictator Mengistu, who used much of  Live Aid’s beneficence to build the largest army in Africa. For better or worse, Geldof epitomizes the rock star as a saint, a patron, a champion of a good cause. As one Atlantic article notes, Geldof’s Live Aid efforts “raised questions about the efficacy of celebrities advocating for foreign aid, but it also undoubtedly changed the nature of fundraising by introducing the factor of high visibility thanks to celebrity philanthropists.” Did it matter? Consider the take of Chris Martin of Coldplay: ““It made my generation feel like caring for the world was part of the remit. Rock and roll doesn’t have to be detached from society.”
  8. Don Cornelius: Questlove has allegedly already got his sights on inducting this Soul Train maestro. For over two decades, Cornelius brought the best of R&B into American televisions. In so doing, he broadened Philadelphia soul, 80s R&B, and (reluctantly) hip-hop beyond black and urban environments. Over the years, EW&F, The Spinners, Mary J. Blige, Patti LaBelle, The O’Jays, Lenny Kravitz, Run-DMC…you name it, they were aboard the Soul Train at some point in their careers.
  9. Wolfman Jack: American Graffiti probably immortalized him as the very voice of rock and roll for a certain generation. His canus lupus schtick was always a reminder of rock and roll’s primal power and barely concealed camp. Deejays are an overlooked part of the rock and roll story, and honoring the Wolfman would be a powerful corrective.
  10. Butch Vig: If we’re going to run the board on producers, let’s get Vig in the hall, huh? If we’re going to induct the best 90s grunge bands, it’s sensible to include the dean of 90s grunge producers. That was Butch Vig behind the panel on Nevermind, Siamese Dream, and other classics of that era. When you consider grunge’s obsession with personal authenticity, producing for its darlings must have been one of the greatest challenges in the industry during the early 90s.
  11. Florence Greenberg: Imagine how challenging it must have been to start your own record label as a woman in the early 60s.  (It wasn’t easy.) But let’s say you go for it, and then your daughter finds a group of classmates to record for you who ultimately call themselves The Shirelles. You sell their record contract to Decca but stay on as their manager. (Do you know any other female managers for musicians during that era? I don’t.) But- surprise!- Decca has no idea how to market four black teenage girls. So, Decca lets the girls go, you start another record label, promote the hell out of them with the meager resources at your disposal, and get kickass songwriters like Luther Dixon and Carole King to write material for them. Group goes on to record “Baby, It’s You,” “Boys,” “Dedicated to the One I Love,” and one of the single best recordings of the early 60s, “Will You Love Me Tomorrow.”
  12. Joel Whitburn: Sometimes, a great hobby can turn into an incredible career. Whitburn collected the Billboard charts faithfully as a teen in the 1950s, charting the rise and fall of records with passion of a fanboy and the thoroughness of a Supreme Court clerk. In the decades since, Whitburn became perhaps the single biggest authority on music charts. I’ll bet that every time a radio station has noted a record’s peak position on the charts, or how long it’s been on the Hot 100, they are citing some research that had its origins with Whitburn.
  13. Bernie Taupin: Look, when I wrote my 100 Greatest Elton John songs series five years ago on this blog, I took a number of justifiable shots at Bernie. He invented the word “Turtlesque,” “Indian Sunset” is riddled with anachronisms, and the level of misogyny was shocking even for the mid-70s (“Dirty Little Girl,” “Island Girl,” “All the Girls Love Alice,” etc.) Nevertheless, you can’t induct Elton John without Bernie Taupin. At his best, Taupin was startlingly fresh, earnest, and daring. When you consider that lyrics about Elton’s temper (“The Bitch Is Back”), a gender-bending glam rock band (“Bennie and the Jets”), and a vengeance-driven Confederate (“My Father’s Gun”) all worked, it becomes clear that Taupin is a pop wordsmith of the highest quality.
  14. Norman Whitfield: Marvelettes fans notwithstanding, the Rock Hall has done right by Motown many times over. But if they still want to mine Hitsville, USA for more rock ‘n roll goodness, Norman Whitfield deserves some plaudits. He piloted The Temptations, Gladys Knight & the Pips, and Marvin Gaye through the late 60s and early 70s, more or less inventing psychedelic, socially-conscious soul music in the process. So, in other words, he’s the guy who was responsible for the finished product of…let’s see…both Motown versions of “Grapevine,” “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone” (one of the best produced songs of all-time, imo), “Just My Imagination,” “War,” and (sigh…) “Car Wash.”
  15. Greil Marcus: Nobody likes a critic. More often than not, their reviews bring out the worst in musicians, the worst in readers, the worst in themselves. But Greil Marcus has consistently been one of the sharpest, most insightful, and least punchable of the rock and roll literati. His Mystery Train, written over 40 years ago, might well have been the first indispensable book on rock and roll. An excerpt from an interview he did not too long ago: “We’re driving back down the Peninsula to Menlo Park on Skyline, which is this two-lane mountain highway. It’s completely lonely; there aren’t any lights — it’s two or three in the morning. And this voice comes on the radio and seems to be coming from far away. “When I’m thirsty, some sparkling wine will do real fine, indeed. But right now, baby, it’s some of your loving I need.” It was so spooky. I had no idea what this was. I wrote about it in my first book, Rock and Roll Will Stand, in 1969 — I talked about it as something I heard once, would never hear again, would never know what it was. That’s part of what rock & roll is, part of what the radio is — hearing something once that will haunt you the rest of your life.”  That’s Greil Marcus. He doesn’t need to waste time convincing you he is smart because he actually is smart.

If there’s one thing shared among visitors, writers, and critics who follow the Rock Hall, it is the deeply held belief that the institution isn’t doing justice to some group or other. It might be a genre- heavy metal, or 70s R&B, or 80s alternative. It might be a demographic or time-frame: women, minorities, Gen X music, and so on. I’d argue that one of the bigger dilemmas is that contributors to rock and roll outside of performing artists have the most reason to be aggrieved. I’ve followed the Rock Hall intently for the last four induction cycles. In that time, we had only 3 non-performers (Brian Epstein, Andrew Loog Oldham, and Bert Burns); 3 Musical Excellence recipients (Nile Rodgers, Ringo Starr, and the E Street Band); and a pitiful one lone Early Influence (The “5” Royales. I don’t know why the “5” is in quotation marks either.)

A couple months ago, I solicited advice from some of the other Rock Hall watchers in terms of some good prospects for these categories. Tom Lane, Michelle Bourg (who did her own list), and Charles Crossley, Jr. all came through with some fine suggestions. I took some, rejected others, and did my own research to supplement theirs. What follows are my 20 prospects for Musical Excellence, and I will follow in a later post with 10 Early Influence ideas, and 15 Non-Performers. Keep in mind- this list isn’t intended to be exhaustive, and just because someone you admire isn’t on the list doesn’t mean that I don’t think they are Rock Hall-worthy. This is merely a list of who I see as the biggest priorities, or who I would advocate for if given the chance.

  1. Brian Eno: It’s hard to think of a producer, musician, and visionary who has played a greater role in the unfolding of rock and roll in cerebral, abstract, and atmospheric directions. From his early work playing keyboards for Roxy Music, to his production for David Bowie, U2, Coldplay, and many others, to his groundbreaking ambient albums, Eno is a towering figure in 20th century music, not just rock and roll.
  2. Willie Nelson: He’s not early enough to be an early influence. He has rock and roll characteristics, sure, but he is widely thought of as a country artist. Why not just give The Red-Headed Stranger a Musical Excellence Award and be done with it? His career has spanned decades, he became one of the greatest touring artists in modern history, and he routinely traversed the frontiers between genres. He’s in his mid-80s now, so let’s do the right thing and honor him while he’s among the living. And bring plenty of munchies to the after-party.
  3. Funk Brothers: The lineup fluctuated, but they ultimately played on more #1 hits than The Beatles and Elvis combined. Bassist James Jamerson is already inducted, but Joe Messina, Earl Van Dyke, and Benny Benjamin have played on dozens of the great Motown songs you know and love. From the ethereal organ of the Four Tops’ “Bernadette” to the rattlesnake tambourine in “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” they always knew how to accentuate a great song. Otis Williams of The Temptations once opined that The Funk Brothers “must go down in history as one of the best groups of musicians anywhere.” Always essential and always unobtrusive. Berry Gordy did his best to make sure they didn’t get enough credit to enjoy leverage and bargaining power. So let’s make sure they are enshrined in the Rock Hall and give them the plaudits that so often eluded them in the prime of their careers.
  4. Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section: They contributed the snappy arrangements and solid musicianship behind Wilson Pickett, Aretha Franklin, and other soul greats of the 1960s and 1970s. Organist Spooner Oldham is already in, but his colleagues are left out in the cold, just like most of the Funk Brothers.
  5. Todd Rundgren: If ever there was a good fit for this category, Rundgren is it. None of his bands–Nazz or Utopia–quite have a Rock Hall resumé, and certainly Rundgren’s chops as a producer need to be taken into account as well. He should be inducted, if only to hear Meat Loaf’s speech and to get “Bang on the Drum” as the jam at the end of the show.
  6. Lee “Scratch” Perry: His recording career and his production work with Bob Marley and the Wailers helped put reggae on the map. Prolific and confrontational, he has also been a champion for reggae artists who have been taken advantage of by major record labels. He’s also collaborated with a number of artists outside his immediate field, including Paul McCartney and The Beastie Boys.
  7. Carol Kaye: Seriously. How is this woman not in the Rock Hall yet? While other members of the famous Wrecking Crew are in, including drummer Hal Blaine and pianist Leon Russell, their bass player and sometimes-guitarist is still inexplicably left out. Never mind Kaye’s obstacles making it as a female instrumentalist in a stubbornly male field, her track record is astounding. That’s her playing on everything from “California Girls” by The Beach Boys, to “La Bamba” by Ritchie Valens, to Freak Out! by Frank Zappa & the Mothers, to one of my favorite guilty pleasures, “Midnight Confessions” by The Grass Roots. Music writers use the word “inexcusable” a lot when talking about the omissions of their pet favorites. This one is actually inexcusable.
  8. The JBs: They earned a surprise nomination for the Class of 2016, shocking the hell out of everybody, even though Future Rock Legends listed them as “Previously Considered.” They are, of course, best known as James Brown’s backing band, although they released a number of fine titles under their own name. They are significant, firstly, for their role in helping the Godfather of Soul create the elemental groove of funk music. But secondly, their horn riffs, and drum lines, and bass parts are among the most sampled in hip-hop.
  9. Billy Preston: The Rock Hall sometimes gets into a bad habit of inducting everybody associated with The Beatles- perhaps partly because it is a guaranteed ratings boost. Preston may not be the true “Fifth Beatle”- George Martin earns that title, with Neil Aspinall and Mal Evans as backups- but his skill at the electric organ saved the moribund “Get Back” sessions from outright collapse. More than that, Preston had a number of fine, upbeat R&B tracks in the 70s, including “Outa Space”, “Will It Go Round in Circles”, and “Nothing From Nothing.” He was one of the great session and touring sidemen of rock history, working with three solo Beatles, Eric Clapton, The Rolling Stones, Ray Charles, Little Richard, and even the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He also wrote “You Are So Beautiful” and his philosophy of serial monogamy inspired Stephen Stills to write “Love the One You’re With.” Quite a legacy.
  10. The Revolution: If we are going to induct the E Street Band, why not them? If they were ever going to get it, it should have been the ceremony directly after Prince’s death. They truly lived up to their name, revolutionary in their gender and racial make-up, and revolutionary in bringing together funk, R&B, 80s technology, and pop sensibilities that helped Prince become one of the preeminent artists of his day.
  11. The Section: Look- 70s singer-songwriter and soft rock was a hell of a lot more musically sophisticated and difficult to play than anybody gave it credit for. The genre favored the composer over the ensemble, so the backing musicians behind the artist were often consigned to obscurity. Leland Sklar, Russ Kunkel, Craig Doerge, and Danny Kortchmar were iconic and inescapable. Here’s a partial list of their oeuvre: Carole King’s Tapestry, CSN and affiliated solo projects, Linda Ronstadt’s work, Sweet Baby James, “Werewolves in London,” Jackson Browne, Dan Fogelberg. They are Laurel Canyon.
  12. MFSB: Similarly, the hi-hat-focused beat of disco gets overlooked as well, and MFSB, more or less the house band on the Gamble and Huff recordings, should also be inducted. They had a hit of their own with “The Sound of Philadelphia,” and laid down the beat for The O’Jays, The Spinners, Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes. But maybe their most historically significant recordings were for artists like The Trampps, which established the contours of what a good, artistically sound disco recording should be like.
  13. Randy Rhoads: He’s in the conversation as one of the greatest rock guitarists of all time, but he somehow isn’t in the Hall. His playing for Ozzy Osbourne, among others, added the classicist’s precision to the dark and brooding brand of Ozzy’s metal, and his untimely death in the 1980s has only added to his legend. Incidentally, Nom Com member Tom Morello actually named one of his kids after Randy Rhoads, so you know there’s a good chance that this induction might actually happen.
  14. Ry Cooder: Another one of the legendary guitarists who should be honored with an induction. Rolling Stone named him 8th on its list of all-time guitarists. His back-to-the-roots style was a great fit for the 1970s, and added much of the character and proficiency that made The Stones’ Sticky Fingers, Randy Newman’s mid-decade output, and Captain Beefheart’s Safe As Milk so memorable.
  15. The Andantes: There’s an interesting precedent here with Darlene Love. As many rock hobbyists know, Phil Spector ushered in The Crystals’ career. But as he maniacally attempted to perfect their sound, he brought in uncredited singers to take their place, ultimately using more fake Crystals than a sketchy Atlantic City jeweler. One of them, Darlene Love, was finally- at the urging of Steve Van Zandt- nominated and inducted. The Andantes are sort of the parallel for Motown- unsung, uncredited, and poorly remembered. When the relationship between Diana Ross and the other Supremes, Mary Wilson and Cindy Birdsong, became toxic, The Andantes backed Ross on the last few years’ worth of Supremes records, a run that included a handful of #1 hits. They also provided the female background vocals on hits like “Baby, I Need Your Loving” and “Reach Out (I’ll Be There),” and whenever a woman’s voice was needed on Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On.” That’s them playing off Mary Wells during the coda of “My Guy.” An unheralded group that deserves better.
  16. The Meters: Like The JBs, this funk outfit has been nominated before as an artist, and probably didn’t come even close to getting the votes necessary for induction. Of course, as stand-alone artists, The Meters are very fine. “Cissy Strut” and “Look-Ka Py Py” have deep grooves and unassailable musicianships. But The Meters also carved out a niche as the backing group for anybody passing through New Orleans.  As Allen Toussaint’s house band, they also played on records by Dr. John, Wings, Paul Simon, Joe Cocker…the list goes on. And like The JBS, their funky riffs have been used liberally in hip-hop samples for over three decades running. I can’t wait for Trombone Shorty’s induction speech.
  17. Al Kooper: The Forrest Gump of rock and roll. He seemed to have been there at so many key moments. He played on The Royal Teens’ “Short Shorts” (alongside future Four Season Bob Gaudio). He wrote “This Diamond Ring” for Gary Lewis and the Playboys. Despite never playing organ before, he faked his way into a Bob Dylan session and played that iconic part on “Like A Rolling Stone.” He founded Blood, Sweat & Tears. He discovered Lynyrd Skynyrd (hey, no one’s perfect.) He played guitar on Who’s Next and Electric Ladyland. Amazing resumé.
  18. Nikolas Ashford & Valerie Simpson: It would be a shame if, like Carole King, they got in as non-performers, because they had a fine run of hits on their own auspices. But they are most well known for their songwriting efforts together, which included most of the Marvin Gaye/Tammi Terrell duets (including “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing” and “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”), and “I’m Every Woman.” They even did an underrated album, Been Found, featuring collaborations with Maya Angelou.
  19. Danger Mouse: There’s a real danger indeed if the Rock Hall keeps focusing so intently on 1960s and 1970s output. To break the geriatric death grip of the Boomer generation, I want to put forward Danger Mouse as a worthy recipient for excellence in a number of different fields. If we are looking at great producers, Danger Mouse should be in the conversation with George Martin, Phil Spector, and others. The Observer writes of him, “Whether as a producer, songwriter or recording artist, Danger Mouse doesn’t have a signature sound so much as a signature feeling – intense, atmospheric, melancholy-laden.” He took the immersive feel of, say, Pink Floyd, and brought it into other elements of popular music. In the process, he produced records for Adele, Outkast, Norah Jones, and The Black Keys. The 1970s and 1980s divided “black music” and “white music” in ways we are still grappling with today, but Danger Mouse has found clever ways of bringing them back together as of old, perhaps nowhere more adroitly than the Beatles/Jay Z mashup “The Grey Album.” As a musician, a deejay, and a producer, Danger Mouse needs to be recognized as a modern-day great.
  20. Babyface: For the final spot, we have the man who, perhaps more than anyone else, helped create modern R&B. Like a contemporary Smokey Robinson, he does it all- sings smooth and soulful hits, writes, and produces. Lets see…he helped create New Jack Swing; helped Boyz II Men make some of the longest-tenured #1 hits ever, produced one of my favorite 90s groups, TLC; founded two record labels; thrived outside of R&B by producing for Eric Clapton and Madonna; was involved in 26 #1 R&B hits; and won 11 Grammy Awards. Other artists he’s produced for: Michael Jackson, Toni Braxton, Whitney Houston, Paula Abdul, and Ariana Grande. And that’s just the wikipedia version of his life.

So- those are my twenty Musical Excellence choices. I tried to pick people who excelled in multiple areas of rock, or didn’t fit easy categorization: performers who were songwriters, deejays who were producers, genre-benders, and so on. Stay tuned- we’ll tackle Early Influences and Non-Performers next.

While we wait for the Nominating Committee to have their annual meeting, I thought I might revise the list of 100 Rock Hall Prospects that I sketched out in January of last year. Since then, four acts on the list have been inducted (Joan Baez, Journey, Electric Light Orchestra, and Yes), lots of new acts became eligible, and my own tastes and judgment have changed (hopefully evolved).

So, here is the new list. Please bear in mind that these are all artists who have been passed over at least once, so Class of 2018 eligibles like Radiohead or Rage Against the Machine will not appear on the list.

  1. Kraftwerk
  2. Janet Jackson
  3. The Moody Blues
  4. Nina Simone
  5. Judas Priest
  6. The Smiths
  7. Carole King
  8. The Spinners
  9. Dire Straits
  10. The Cure
  11. The Cars
  12. Eurythmics
  13. L. L. Cool J.
  14. Kate Bush
  15. Mariah Carey
  16. Nine Inch Nails
  17. The Zombies
  18. T. Rex
  19. Tina Turner
  20. Sonic Youth
  21. Willie Nelson
  22. Dick Dale
  23. Brian Eno
  24. Jethro Tull
  25. Whitney Houston
  26. Depeche Mode
  27. Smashing Pumpkins
  28. Iron Maiden
  29. Weird Al Yankovic
  30. Pixies
  31. Dead Kennedys
  32. Pat Benatar
  33. Emmylou Harris
  34. Motorhead
  35. Big Mama Thornton
  36. War
  37. The Guess Who
  38. Roxy Music
  39. A Tribe Called Quest
  40. Jane’s Addiction
  41. Devo
  42. Salt N Pepa
  43. Phil Collins
  44. Sting
  45. The Monkees
  46. PJ Harvey
  47. Duran Duran
  48. Black Flag
  49. Warren Zevon
  50. Peter Tosh
  51. The Replacements
  52. The Commodores
  53. Johnny Burnette & the Rock ‘N Roll Trio
  54. The B-52s
  55. Eric B. & Rakim
  56. Indigo Girls
  57. Big Star
  58. Three Dog Night
  59. Ozzy Osbourne
  60. Johnny Winter
  61. Link Wray
  62. The Doobie Brothers
  63. MC5
  64. Alice in Chains
  65. Phish
  66. Chic
  67. Billy Ward & His Dominoes
  68. Fugazi/Minor Threat
  69. Dionne Warwick
  70. Bjork
  71. The Flaming Lips
  72. Peter, Paul & Mary
  73. Rufus/Chaka Khan
  74. Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
  75. The Clovers
  76. De La Soul
  77. Blur
  78. Jimmy Buffett
  79. The Shadows
  80. Bad Brains
  81. Ben E. King
  82. Lucinda Williams
  83. Gram Parsons
  84. Soundgarden
  85. Moby
  86. Emerson, Lake & Palmer
  87. The Pogues
  88. The Jam
  89. Bon Jovi
  90. Megadeth
  91. Tori Amos
  92. Mary Wells
  93. Chuck Willis
  94. Kris Kristofferson
  95. Teddy Pendergrass/Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes
  96. Toots and the Maytals
  97. The Shangri-Las
  98. New York Dolls
  99. Os Mutantes
  100. Fela Kuti

At this point, I might add that some artists on my original list were phased out. DC Talk, Husker Du, Dan Fogelberg, Slayer, Can, and Procol Harum. Afrika Bambaataa got removed in the light of pederasty charges. Los Lobos got kicked out because they didn’t do “La Bamba” when I saw them perform last year.

A couple similar artists switched places: Emmylou Harris, I think, should get the nod over Gram Parsons. I recently read Kill Your Idols, a collection of essays taking the piss out of allegedly classic albums, and their demolition of Grevious Angel won me over. I also switched A Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul, with ATCQ now being ranked higher.

Some artists trended downward since last time: Chic (due to Nile Rogers’s Excellence Award), Peter Paul & Mary (Baez’s induction accomplished the same point- acknowledging folk’s role in politicizing rock music), Iron Maiden (#11 was way, way too high) Duran Duran, and Ben E. King. Artists who moved up include Nina Simone (who breaks into the Top Ten), and Nine Inch Nails, among others. Kraftwerk has wrested the #1 spot from Moody Blues after some careful deliberation.

The sharp-eyed may notice several new additions: The Jam, Toots & the Maytals, Tori Amos, Lucinda Williams, Os Mutantes, The Shangri-Las, Kris Kristofferson, Bad Brains, Emerson Lake & Palmer, Blur, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, and PJ Harvey have all debuted.

So, this is where things stand for the summer of 2017. As always, your commentary and your critiques are valued.

Our intrepid countdown continues as we mark down some of the less inspired Beatles efforts on our road to Fab Four greatness. This particular batch is heavy on one particular era and one particular Beatle. The era is late 1964, between some lackluster tracks on the otherwise solid A Hard Day’s Night,  as well as some of the problematic tracks on Beatles for Sale, perhaps the band’s least compelling and most enervated studio album. And then there are some subpar b-sides, and EP tracks as well. The Beatle at hand is George, who sings lead on four of these fifteen tracks, far above his usual output. When George was great, George was great, but he struggled to find his voice until Rubber Soul, as these tracks demonstrate.

180. “What You’re Doing,” (Beatles for Sale): There is a kernel of a good song here. Harrison is copping a bit of the early Byrds sound on guitar. But the effort is marred by the single most audible mistake- or rather series of mistakes- in the entire Beatles catalogue. The song requires the first word of each line in the verse to be shouted in unison by John and Paul. But more than once during the song, they sing the wrong word or goof up the pronoun. George Martin was a meticulous man, so I am very curious how such an error-ridden take was deemed acceptable for release.

179. “Bad Boy” (Williams, Beatles VI): Lennon’s love of Larry Williams and his up-tempo rock and rollers manifests in this misbegotten track, which was not formally released in the U.K. until the 1966 compilation album A Collection of Beatles Oldies. Lennon’s singing style and the band’s accompaniment is pointlessly frantic; at a different point in their careers, I would have wondered if they were coked up. The biggest trouble with this track, in my judgment, is its incongruent Americanism. With references to hula hoops, putting tacks on the teacher’s chair, and general juvenile delinquency, an indelibly British act had little hope of translating this piece, despite their evident love of American culture.

178. “What Goes On” (Lennon/McCartney/Starkey, Rubber Soul): Rubber Soul is one of the band’s most forward-looking records, which makes a retread like this nearly tragic. One of Lennon’s earlier songwriting efforts, this was given a dust-up. But in the end, it sounds for all the world like a country-flavored reject from Beatles for Sale. Some solid background vocals from John and Paul are the song’s best quality, but the paint-by-numbers Chet Atkins guitar work by Harrison, and the song’s similarities to the last few Ringo vocal outings make this track expendable and skippable.

177. “Another Girl” (Help!): I read Rob Sheffield’s quasi-memoir Talking to Girls About Duran Duran yesterday, and in it, he goes on an extended riff about McCartney’s public persona. He wisely notes that this is McCartney’s only known attempt at a snide Dylanesque “It Ain’t Me Babe” kind of song. It doesn’t work because it cuts so incisively against the grain of who McCartney projects himself to be. The song’s callous rejection of one girlfriend for another breaks no meaningful thematic ground nor is its ponderous instrumental track very good either. A disappointment from a creative stage in the band’s career. It did inspire a fun sequence in the Help! film that I enjoy watching, though. Pure filler.

176. “Thank You Girl” (B-side): This early flip side of “From Me to You” isn’t terrible or anything, but it is a more careless throwaway, and an indictment of the slapdash nature of many B-sides throughout the record industry in the early 1960s.

175. “Baby’s In Black” (Beatles for Sale): The band clearly wanted to try out some country, and this song does have an appealing 3/4 swing (the first Lennon/McCartney song in waltz time?)  The experiment doesn’t wholly succeed. As a song grappling with loss, and perhaps even death, it is too direct whereas the superior “Yes It Is” is evocative and circumspect. Moreover, Harrison’s limp guitar solo shows that his proficiency in rockabilly didn’t necessarily translate to country and western. Inexplicably, this song remained in the band’s live setlist until their final performance in Candlestick Park.

174. “She’s A Woman” (b-side): Some have portrayed this song as a daring rhythm-and-blues outing. Others have called it proto-punk. Nah. The flip side to “I Feel Fine” is simplistic, repetitive, and ties the band to a more Stones-like sound that they don’t have the experience or the proper background to perform well. Also, it rhymes “presents” with “peasant.”

173. “Magical Mystery Tour” (Magical Mystery Tour): This song encapsulates a lot of what is wrong with the television movie to which it serves as our theme. Empty promises, lyrics that are merely coy salesmanship, and a failure to evoke either magic or mystery are just the beginning of its problems. I can’t think of a less inviting way to entice someone to psychedelic wonder than this track. You can hear Lennon rolling his eyes while he’s singing the background vocals.

172. “Anytime At All” (A Hard Day’s Night): There is a fair bit of anonymous phoned-in writing on the second half of the A Hard Day’s Night LP. This track kicks the side off, where Lennon repeats his trick of flipping between a sensitive verse and an urgent chorus used earlier in “It Won’t Be Long” and “All I’ve Got To Do”. An uncreative “I’m here if you need me” kind of song, it is further diminished by possibly the worst instrumental break on any Beatles song.

171. “I Call Your Name” (Long Tall Sally EP): Some cool rhythms can be found here which resemble almost a cro-magnon version of reggae. Although the band’s version flounders, it did at least inspire a worthwhile cover from The Mamas & The Papas.

170. “Chains” (King/Goffin; Please Please Me): This is George’s first lead vocal in the band’s professional recording career. As such, it comes across merely as a showcase, and it breaks the first rule of doing cover versions: don’t do them if you can’t add anything to the original. Even so, the band’s courage in defying strict Northern gender roles and doing songs by The Shirelles or, in this case, The Cookies, is noted. It gave the group a much wider repertoire of songs to use in their live set.

169. “I Need You” (Harrison; Help!): Sometimes less is more. Harrison’s second composition to land on a Beatles record, “I Need You” has a simple and earnest core to it. What could have been endearing merely becomes jarring, as the band experiments with too much wah-wah pedal, having become somewhat infatuated with the device during the Help! sessions. It’s an incongruous choice for a plaintive song that could have been much better without it.

168. “Devil in Her Heart” (Drapkin; With the Beatles): This was originally sung by The Donays, and its 45 single appears to have been the only thing they ever recorded. (This was the era where girl groups on small labels were paid in shampoo vouchers and bubblegum.) The Beatles make a go of it, with a wink and a smirk; its lyrics were clearly written as an exchange between girlfriends, despite the band’s change of pronouns. What I find interesting is how, for the band’s first three records, George seems to have been deliberately marketed as the younger brother of the band, given much more simplistic, juvenile material, while John and Paul handle songs dealing with more mature aspects of relationships.

167. “When I Get Home” (A Hard Day’s Night): This song comes in like a wrecking ball, with a relentless beat creating what Lennon called a “four-in-the-bar cowbell song” in the vein of Wilson Pickett. Yet it lacks Pickett’s easy soul and wan smile. Running on fumes during a busy schedule, the band resorts to cliches like “til the cows come home” and sounds nowhere more tired than in this attempt at a high-octane, uptempo track.

166. “I’m Happy Just to Dance With You” (A Hard Day’s Night): Although three songs from the album appear on this post, I truly do believe that A Hard Day’s Night is the best of the four LPs from the height of Beatlemania. This is the only lackluster track on the otherwise sterling Side 1. The penchant for saddling Harrison with simplistic songs from a young teenager’s point of view is wearing a bit thin by now. While John and Paul sing of coming home to a woman (mercy!), Harrison remains stuck at the high school dances wearing uncomfortable loafers.

 

For the last few years, coverage of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has been the Northumbrian Countdown’s bread and butter. Sure, I will comment on the state of Walt Disney World, or modern politics, or even religion from time to time, but the fact remains: a vast majority of the traffic that gets to this site arrives because of something I’ve written about rock and roll. So it might be surprising to know that I never visited the hallowed halls of Cleveland. And this is in spite of being a three hour drive from the museum during my grad school days in Buffalo, and a four hour drive from my current digs in Rochester.

Why did it take so long? For years, my absence was for petty reasons: I refused to visit until Chicago was inducted. Their induction in April, 2016 took care of that obstacle, however the best weekends for visiting were hampered by the Cavaliers’ victory parade, the RNC, and my perpetual difficulties traveling. But on July 1, I finally made it! And so did lots of other people. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was crowded…it was easily the most crowded I have ever seen any museum. At first I thought that it was because of the new Power of Rock exhibit, but the true factor quickly became clear: the Cleveland Browns’ stadium was a quarter mile away, and was hosting a U2 concert later that evening. As you can imagine, that would lead to some congestion in the Rock Hall earlier that day!

As far as my impressions go, the museum has a lot going for it. More than anything else, the museum makes you feel like rock and roll is a holy thing. The great glass pyramid keeps your eyes gazing toward the top, giving the visitor a sense of grandeur that reminds me of my visits to London’s Gothic cathedrals in terms of imparting majesty. The museum feels like an interactive journey through the sacred. It was affecting to see the handwritten lyrics for “London Calling,” or the piano that Jerry Lee Lewis abused to get the riveting pulse he needed for “Great Balls of Fire.” As a hopeless Beatles fan since I was 10, the Fab Four artifacts took my breath away- to see Ringo’s drums from the Shea Stadium era, or an actual outfit worn by one of The Beatles in a photo I’ve seen dozens of times felt to me as though a myth was becoming real and tangible.

Yet the museum was insistent on making sure we understood its narrative. There was really no way to proceed except by going through early influences, winding through thoughtful exhibition space on gospel, country, and blues influences on the genre. Unlike, say, the Strong Museum of Play in Rochester, this isn’t a “choose your own adventure” kind of museum. There’s only so many ways you can get through it. After this introductory material- Elvis! Followed by rock’s early years, and eventually, the showcases take a geographic focus, with Detroit, Memphis, New Orleans, and London all taking center stage. The Rock Hall even dedicates a great deal of space to justifying its Cleveland roots, with Alan Freed taking a key part in the narrative, and posters for the Moondog Coronation Ball. From there, space is dedicated to various keynote artists: The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Hendrix, Bowie, Prince, and the like.  But one needs to get through the final stages- contemporary descendants of rock and roll- to complete the journey. The Rock Hall’s very design forces the visitor to confront hip-hop, Adele, Janelle Monae, and other modern standard-bearers. The message is clear: rock and roll headed off in many directions, and guitar-based acts are not the only, or even the most important, part of that legacy. In fact, the lack of 70s classic rock bands stood out baldly: Aerosmith, Chicago, Boston, Cheap Trick, — all of those were downplayed.

One area that surprised me with its spartan qualities were the plaques denoting who had been inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame during each year. That was it…just a name, with no explanation of who Percy Sledge was, or why Brenda Lee was significant. However, a sign nearby solicited ideas for #RockHallHonors to figure out a more suitable way to acknowledge those who climbed the mountain and got inducted.

But as I left, I noticed a few things that stood out by their absence. For one, the museum was wholly focused on artists and musicians. The effect rock and roll had on crowds, listeners, dancers, was never fully explored. That, to me, leaves the visitor wondering his or her own role in this story, and makes music something that is passively received- a notion that I am sure most rock and roll experts- including those on the museum board- would contest. One encouraging movement to rectify this came across in a series of interactive booths were your choice of rock icon (Mary Wilson, or Smokey Robinson or Michelle Phillips or Alice Cooper) elicited your favorite concert memories or who you think should be in the Hall of Fame. (I gave a pretty cogent case for Nina Simone, if I do say so myself.)

Moreover, why does rock and roll matter? Perhaps the museum treats this question as self-evident, nevertheless the question remains — why do we listen to rock? Why do we care about it? The museum didn’t offer any coherent answers, and perhaps there are none to be had. But if I ran this particular zoo, I’d have maybe spent more time on Dylan’s impact on, say, ’68 in America; the Plastic People of the Universe inspiring Prague Spring; Live Aid’s noble failure to combat poverty– or its relations to modern politics, racial identity, fashion, or attitudes toward sex. Aside from a strong section on censorship of rock and roll that touched on why the genre was seen as dangerous, the exhibitions chose not to engage with these issues.

In the end, though, these are just some rough sketches from a historian who reads too much and thinks too much. All told, I had a great time- especially once the crowds died down. Nevertheless, I encourage those in charge of this project to more overtly engage the question of “why rock and roll matters” beyond celebrating this pantheon of great figures and allowing these Midwestern pilgrims to glimpse at relics and curios. Even so, I didn’t get to see everything this time around- and I will gladly be back. Despite my critiques, this is a museum that Cleveland can be proud of. But I wouldn’t mind seeing Nina Simone get in. And The Zombies. And Kraftwerk. And Janet Jackson. And…

Welcome to our second installment of our ranking of The Beatles’ canonical works. Looking back, it is remarkable how little bad music this band recorded over the seven or so years of their recording career. We handled the worst of the worst last time, and we slowly wind our way through tossers, and up to mediocrity, and finally rock and roll greatness. Truthfully, these early posts are the most difficult to write; I take no joy in dismissing any of the band’s work, but their lesser efforts are highlighted in this post.

195. Hold Me Tight (With the Beatles): The song captures of some the frantic teenage energy that drove so much of early Beatlemania. Yet for reasons never answered satisfactorily, a dreadfully out of tune version of this Lennon/McCartney number was committed to record and pressed for the album. Aside from a neat tempo change for the bridge, there is little evidence that this was treated as much more than hackwork.

194. Everybody’s Trying To Be My Baby (Perkins- Beatles for Sale): This is a puzzling choice indeed to end Beatles for Sale. The band’s first two albums ended with a raucous rocker, and A Hard Day’s Night pulled off a pleasant surprise with the acoustic “I’ll Be Back.” Ending the album with this tongue-in-cheek Carl Perkins number, though, was a baffling choice. Drenched in a swampy echo, leaden with perfunctory guitar solos, this is far from the Beatles’ best effort. It’s a shame, really: it’s the only time they professionally recorded a Carl Perkins song sung by Harrison, who idolized the rockabilly legend.

193. You Like Me Too Much (Harrison- Help!): George was afforded two of his own compositions on Help!, but it only shows how behind the curve he was compared to his two more celebrated bandmates. Harrison wrote very few true love songs during his career; even “Something” includes the ambivalent “I don’t want to leave her now.” Similarly, this track is a sour admission of a half-hearted romance, dressed up with some incongruous barrelhouse piano.

192. Tell Me What You See (Help!): If not for the sterling “Yesterday” and the jaunty “I’ve Just Seen a Face,” the second side of Help! might have gone down as the worst side of any Beatles LP. Paul tries to create some atmosphere on this track with some unusual percussive rhythms and electric organ. Yet it just doesn’t come together, and the listener is distracted by odd turns of phrase like “I’ll make bright your day.” I’m puzzled as to why they didn’t try to improve “If You’ve Got Trouble” or “That Means a Lot”, two superior rejects from these sessions that didn’t surface (legally) until the Anthology series.

191. Why Don’t We Do It In the Road (White Album): I’ll admit that this track makes me laugh because of Paul’s pure commitment to it. It lets him belt and give his falsetto voice a workout, but it never should have been committed to record, even on the White Album. It just sounds like a track that would have been filler on Anthology Vol. 3.

190. Cry Baby Cry (White Album): The block-chord piano parts presage Lennon’s M.O. throughout his solo career, and Ringo does some fine drumming that’s very easy to overlook. Otherwise, there isn’t much to commend this bizarre fairy-tale Lennon concocts.

189. Dig It (Lennon/McCartney/Harrison/Starr- Let It Be): There are definitely traces of a funky jam in the making here. Billy Preston finds a nice groove on keyboards, and Lennon is clearly enjoying himself as he ad-libs the vocals. As happened so often in the Get Back sessions, though, the band refused to take the time to polish this idea and turn it into something better developed- especially since the band wasn’t all that strong at improvising.

188. Her Majesty (Abbey Road): Left on the album by mistake, this cheeky ditty ruins the perfect conclusion for Abbey Road established by “The End.” A pity.

187. Your Mother Should Know (Magical Mystery Tour): As I said in my introduction to this project, I have a high tolerance for Paul’s throwback records, or “rooty-tooty” music as John sometimes called it. This effort just doesn’t work however, and even the elaborate dance number that accompanies this track at the end of Magical Mystery Tour can’t salvage it. The organ part makes it sound like baroque rock, rather than the 1940s-inspired tune it was; McCartney would later get the concept right with “You Gave Me the Answer” from the Wings’ Venus and Mars album.

186. A Taste of Honey (Scott/Marlow- Please Please Me): The Beatles cast a wide net in their live sets from their Hamburg days onward. Paul would usually push the group to include some Tin Pan Alley numbers, or some Broadway tunes, indicative of his father’s music-hall penchant. “A Taste of Honey” is one of those tunes– pleasant, wistful, and saccharine. I didn’t know that eye rolls could be audible, but you can almost hear Lennon’s on this track.

185. Blue Jay Way (Harrison- Magical Mystery Tour): This track has its advocates, and I might get some blowback for ranking it this low.  While undoubtedly moody, hazy, and atmospheric, it’s a journey that doesn’t go much of anywhere. Harrison definitely gets points for centering this tune around an Indian drone style with limited modulation, but the final effect is dreary and repetitive. This is a major problem on the first side of Magical Mystery Tour, which lacks sustained effort as the band’s psychological impulses are running on fumes, soon to be supplanted by the return to basics exemplified by “Lady Madonna” and The White Album.

184. Revolution No. 9 (White Album): Some of my readers might wonder why this track isn’t lower. Isn’t this track the embodiment of narcissistic, failed experimentation? Isn’t this supposed to be the apogee of Yoko’s toxic influence on the band? To be sure, Lennon’s decision to submit one of his first attempts at avant-garde to such a wide public gaze was arrogant, indulgent, and ill-considered. But the seeds of a solid modern art piece are definitely present, and the influences of people like John Cage are certainly evident here. Lennon fails to understand, though, that less is more. If limited to two or three minutes, and more artistically designed to suggest the foment of an oncoming revolution- the piece’s message after all- something might have been made out of this track. It’s not corrosive, lazy, or hackwork–just a genuinely interesting concept that collapsed of its own weight.

183. Boys (Dixon/Farrell- Please Please Me): Maybe this track has aged the least well out of the entire Beatles canon. Even as late as the early 1960s, it wasn’t uncommon for men to sing songs written for women, and vice versa. Today, a track such as this is bound to elicit giggles and immature questions about Ringo’s sexuality. It still stands as a lesser effort from that first album, as seen in Ringo’s discomfiture in the studio, and an ineffectual translation from the girl-group sound to the Merseyside beat. Nevertheless, it stands out that four (!!) of the songs on the band’s first album were originally performed by female artists (along with “Baby, It’s You” and “Chains”) with a fourth, “Misery,” written by John and Paul for a female singer but ultimately taken up by the composers themselves.

182. You Know My Name (Look Up the Number) (b-side): At the very end of The Beatles’ career, so depleted was their catalog, and so convinced were they of their own genius, that “Let It Be” was backed by an absurdist lark recorded two years earlier. No Beatles track betrays the band’s Goon Show pedigree more than this one, as John and Paul- the only two Beatles appearing on this track- repeat the song’s title in a number of comedic voices.

181. Baby, You’re A Rich Man (Magical Mystery Tour): Flecks of Middle Eastern instrumentation give this song an exotic palette, yet ultimately mislead the listener into believing that this song will be interesting. An awkward amalgamation of a song by Lennon and a song by McCartney, it lacks the airiness of the song’s Summer of Love release, leaden as it is with overdubs.