Today I thought it would be fun to check out some more "Lost" albums of the 1970's!
Back in the 1970's, there were excellent records that popped up on my radar whenever I would go through the album racks in various record stores during this particular rock & roll era. As a matter of fact, many times I would discover some very unique and special albums in the $1.00 bins! So, without further adieu, let's check out some of those great lost albums of the 70's!
Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!
Year of Release: 1978
Devo's debut album took me completely by surprise as it made it's way forward and played a big part in the formation of the New Wave movement. Devo was one of the first bands to employ synthesizers which seemed to give off a science fiction sound.
"Q: Are We Not Men also revived the absurdist social satire of the Mothers of Invention, claiming punk rock's outsider alienation as a home for freaks and geeks. While Devo's appeal was certainly broader, their sound was tailored well enough to that sensibility that it still resonates with a rabid cult following. It isn't just the dadaist pseudo-intellectual theories, or the critique of the American mindset as unthinkingly, submissively conformist. It was the way their music reflected that view, crafted to be as mechanical and robotic as their targets. Yet Devo hardly sounded like a machine that ran smoothly. There was an almost unbearable tension in the speed of their jerky, jumpy rhythms, outstripping Talking Heads, XTC, and other similarly nervy new wavers." (All Music)
"Of all the sideways-thinking iconoclasts clearing the rubble after punk’s big bang, Devo were perhaps the least comprehensible, and most apparently sui generis of them all. A pop group wrapped in a surrealist art troupe inside a gang of synth-wielding, terraced headgear-sporting maniac philosophers from Akron, Ohio (of all places), the five-piece offered a blunt rejection of the previous decade’s tired rock and roll cliches on their debut album, an idiotically catchy collection of stilted rhythms, barked vocals and childlike imagery that roundly rejected the slop and mess of guitar rawk (a tactic that reaches its acme on their gloriously bananas, totally de-sexed redo of the Stones’ ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’). Thoroughly postmodern in their mingling of highbrow satire and lowbrow artifice, it’s little wonder Brian Eno elbowed his way to the front of the queue to act as producer on Q: Are We Not Men?." (factmag.com)
Richard Hell & The Voidoids - Blank Generation
Year of Release: 1977
This statement from Richard Hell says it all: “I was saying let me outta here before I was even born – it’s such a gamble when you get a face!”
Richard Hell became a superstar on the CBGB scene who was known for wearing safety-pinned shirts and bizarre spiked hair which later invented the punk look which was stolen by Malcolm McLaren to create a look for the Sex Pistol. Strange as it seems, Richard Hell remains underrated when compared to his peers at CBGB peers. Widely known for his song Blank Generation, his career did not move forward as expected even though he was asked to be a member of the band Television by Tom Verlaine.
"Hell was the consummate punk rock star; what he lacked in chops he made up for in charisma and spittle, elastic yelps and seedy street poetry – although the secret weapon in the Voidoids’ line-up was the mighty Robert Quine, whose erratic, sinewy guitar lines are a like match to Hell’s gunpowder on highlights like the flawless ‘Love Comes In Spurts’." (CBGB History Guide)
RUNT - THE BALLAD OF TODD RUNDGREN
Year of Release: 1971
Todd Rundgren, after leaving his band The Nazz, suddenly became a great solo artists with a number of albums that forged a forever band of fans. Of his solo albums, I find that his Ballad Of Todd Rundgren is (dare-I-say it) a work of art that shows Rundgren at his finest when it comes to creating beautiful and haunting pop music.
Most of the album's 12 tracks are piano-led ballads, with the only exceptions being the rock tunes Bleeding and Parole and the anthem Chain Letter. As with his first album, this album was initially credited to "Runt". Rundgren himself wrote, arranged, and produced every tune on The Ballad of Todd Rundgren, as well as handling all the guitars, keyboards, and vocals.
When asked about the production of The Ballad Of Todd Rundgren, Todd stated that 'I was pretty overbearing to deal with. I was also becoming very particular about arrangements, so I took a crack at playing it all myself. But I still had some dependence on other musicians. I wasn't yet ready to play drums or to seriously address what bass playing should be like.'
The track, Chain Letter, is the longest song on the album. It opens with acoustic guitars before piano, organ, bass, and drums march in. He also uses ‘The Putney,’ also known as EMS VCS 3, a portable analog synthesizer with a flexible semi-modular voice architecture.
Tony Sales, who played bass on Todd's first solo album, Runt, plays on the majority of the tracks on this album, but his brother, Hunt Sales, the drummer on the first album, plays drums only on one cut and conga on one. Studio musicians Jerry Scheff and John Guerin provide the rhythm section on two tracks; Norman D. Smart, who would later become a member of the Hello People and was Mountain's first drummer, plays on the remainder. On two of the tracks, Rundgren is the only performer.
The album cover was designed by Milton Glaser. the inside photographs and design were created by Milton Glaser. Inside photographs and design were by Ron Mael (later to be part of the band, Sparks). The tracks for The Ballad of Todd Rundgren were recorded at I.D. Sound Studios in Los Angeles. The engineer on the project was James Lowe. Voices and mix down were finished at Bearsville Studio in Bearsville, New York.
TONIO K. - LIFE IN THE FOODCHAIN
Year of Release: 1978
“One of the best things about the late-'70s punk rock explosion is that it changed the rules for pop musicians across the board, and while Tonio K. wasn't a for-real punk rocker (or even really new wave), there's no way he could have made an album as willfully strange and bitterly witty as Life in the Foodchain without Elvis Costello or Johnny Rotten first raising the stakes in the rock outrage department. And it's a good thing; Tonio K. (aka Steve Krikorian) was actually a staunch Leftist moralist wearing the cloak of a raving lunatic, and on Life in the Foodchain, his rampantly cynical trades about the abuse of wealth, the collapse of values, and the emotional abuse that passed for love near the end of the 20th century cut like a chainsaw while also managing to be pretty damn funny. The Ballad of the Night the Clocks All Quit (And the Government Failed) is nearly as ambitious as its title (and even funnier), while Life in the Foodchain and The Funky Western Civilization say a lot more about the failings of our culture than most serious songwriters were offering in 1979, and side two's meditations on romance (especially American Love Affair and How Come I Can't See You in My Mirror?) make Warren Zevon sound like James Taylor. And while one might wish that Tonio K. had had a band as tough and brittle as the Attractions backing him, he and producer Rob Fraboni got an admirably hard-rocking, stripped-down sound from their band of studio professionals (including Earl Slick, Albert Lee and Garth Hudson) -- and Tonio K. was way ahead of the hipster curve in giving Dick Dale a guest shot on a couple cuts. And who wouldn't love an album released by the same people responsible for Dan Fogelberg's career that featured the line 'I wish I was as mellow/As for instance Jackson Browne/But 'Fountain of Sorrow' my ass, motherf--ker/I hope you wind up in the ground!'? A masterpiece.” (All Music)
“Steve Simels, the legendary rock critic for Stereo Review called this ‘the greatest record ever made’. We call it indispensable trash. Full on rock and roll, with outrageous lyrics, inventive song titles and a crack band who just happened to be some of the best sidemen in the business (Earl Slick, Albert Lee, Garth Hudson and the immortal Dick Dale). At the time nobody knew who Tonio K. was, but he was one hotshit writer, singer and composer who turned out to be a guy named Steve Krikorian. Bitter, funny, and politically, socially and morally astute. Puts just about every other songwriter back then to shame. This record is our number one recommendation for sated music fans who think everything that came out of the ’70s was eminently forgettable. Should you be lucky enough to track this one down, whatever you need to pay, go for it. You’ll thank us.” (vivascene.com)
NICK LOWE - JESUS OF COOL
Year of Release: 1978
I remember getting this import version of Nick Lowe's debut album, Jesus Of Cool and was knocked out by every single track on this amazing album.
Before I put the needle on the platter, I was intrigued by the six rock & rollers on the album's front cover which featured a variety of players such as a hippy, a folkie, a greasy rock & roller and a new wave hipster. It should be noted that Lowe's American label were a bit nervous with the British title, Jesus of Cool and settled for Pure Pop For Now People on the American release.
"Yes, Nick Lowe isn’t above borrowing inspiration where he finds it. Still, he puts a playful twist on traditional rock & roll and has just enough of punk rock’s satirical wit to make it all sound fresh and new.
Despite the various costume changes on the front cover and Lowe’s shared passions for pop, punk, country music and rock & roll, Jesus of Cool isn’t as scattershot a record as you might think. Songs like Music For Money and Tonight may be world aparts emotionally, but musically they inhabit the same world.
Behind Lowe is a mishmash of Attractions, Rumours, Blockheads and the redoubtable Rockpile contingent. They give the songs some muscle which Lowe either amplifies or undermines in his production. Thus, a few of the songs feel unfinished or overly experimental (Breaking Glass, Music for Money, 36 Inches High), while others sparkle (Tonight, So It Goes, Marie Provost)." (progrography.com)
In conclusion, this is wonderful album is pop about pop, a record that challenged the industry in and of itself.
Nils Lofgren also known as “The Fat Man” album
Year Of Release: 1975
I was a big fan of Nils Lofgren's work with the band Grin so naturally when Lofgren released his first solo album in 1975, I knew Lofgren would deliver the goods.
"When Nils Lofgren released his first solo album in 1975, most fans were expecting a set confirming his guitar hero status, and more than a few listeners were vocally disappointed with the more laid-back and song-oriented disc Lofgren delivered. However, with the passage of time the self-titled album, Nils Lofgren, has come to be regarded as an overlooked classic, and with good reason -- Lofgren has rarely been in better form on record as a songwriter, vocalist, musician, and bandleader.
While Lofgren doesn't lay down a firestorm of guitar on each selection (with his piano unexpectedly high in the mix), when he does solo he makes it count, and the rough but tasty chords and bluesy accents that fill out the frameworks of the songs give the performances plenty of sinew.
Just as importantly, this is as good a set of songs as Lofgren has assembled on one disc, consistently passionate and forceful, from the cocky If I Say It, It's So and The Sun Hasn't Set on This Boy Yet to the lovelorn I Don't Want to Know and Back It Up, while Keith Don't Go (Ode to the Glimmer Twins) comes from the heart of a true fan and Rock and Roll Crook suggests Lofgren had already learned plenty about the music business by this time.
The production on Nils Lofgren is simple but simpatico, giving all the players plenty of room to shine, and Lofgren's rhythm section (Wornell Jones on bass and Aynsley Dunbar on drums) fits the album's funky but heartfelt vibe perfectly. Lofgren has made harder rocking and flashier albums since his debut, but he rarely hit the pocket with the same élan as he did on Nils Lofgren, and it remains the most satisfying studio album of his career." (All Music)
The album was produced by Young’s frequent collaborator David Briggs and recorded in Los Angeles, San Francisco and Falls Church, Virginia. Despite having released over 20 solo albums since the release of his first solo album, Lofgren writes in his brand-new liner notes that he considers his first “still one of my best.”
Though Lofgren introduced the album showcasing his liquid guitar chops on the brief, under-a-minute caution to Be Good Tonight, this album is filled with accessible, melodic and tight songs. This stylistic point is driven home by the album’s closing track, a strong rendition of Gerry Goffin and Carole King’s classic Goin’ Back – associated with artists from Dusty Springfield to The Byrds – which he made his own. Indeed, the album has proven to be not just a vibrant and inspired debut but one of Lofgren’s strongest and most consistent collection of songs ever, boasting twelve tracks of spirited rock and roll crafted with a pop tunesmith’s flair.
THE JERRY HAHN BROTHERHOOD
Year Of Release: 1970
If I had to choose one album to have while on a desert island, this particular Hot Platter would definitely be in the mix. The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood was formed by jazz guitarist Jerry Hahn who had paid his dues working with John Handy, the Fifth Dimension and Gary Burton. By 1970, he wanted to get a band together that would reflect a myriad of musical influences--- jazz, blues, rock, gospel, country etc.
One of the best parts of the early 1970's was the great amount of experimentation that was going on among bands in general. A very fertile period indeed. As a matter of fact, one could easily make the claim that this here record was one of the very first true fusion albums to hit the scene. Later came such bands as Return To Forever and Weather Report who received wide acclaim for bringing together elements of jazz and rock but let's face it…The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood had been there first.
The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood had several key elements: Hahn's jazz inflected rock guitar, a solid versatile rhythm section of George Marsh (drums) & Clyde Graves (bass) and most importantly, the lead vocals & Hammond B-3 organ of the great Mike Finnigan.
This hot combo was formed by jazz guitarist Jerry Hahn who had paid his dues working with John Handy, the Fifth Dimension and Gary Burton. By 1970, he wanted to get a band together that would reflect a myriad of musical influences--- jazz, blues, rock, gospel, country etc. One of the best parts of the early 1970's was the great amount of experimentation that was going on among bands in general.
Sadly, this self-titled effort is the only recorded output by The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood. Prior to recording a follow-up album, the band broke up due to management problems. As I write this, The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood album has not seen the light of day due to ongoing legal difficulties and it looks like this record may never see release on compact disc or as a digital download (at least not in our lifetimes).
Here's an article from the NY Times: Verlyn Klinenborg, (August 19, 2006 ) that provides information on what happened to this great band after their album release.
Caught in the Limbo of Vinyl: The Case of Jerry Hahn Brotherhood
"The other day a song popped into my head, just a few up-tempo instrumental phrases — guitar, bass, drums and a Hammond B3 organ. I knew instantly what it was, though I hadn’t heard it in at least 20 years. It was a passing moment from “Martha’s Madman,” the first song on the first side of an LP called “The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood.” I bought the record when it was released in 1970. I was a freshman at Berkeley.
It would have been easy to see the Jerry Hahn Brotherhood performing that year, though I never did. Its lone record was a sunny mixture of straight-up jazz with a blues spine, a music that wants the latter-day word “fusion,” though that word does so little good. Above all, it was a reminder of the eclecticism of the time. Audiences that would soon diverge found themselves packed in a hall together all night long, like one October weekend at Fillmore West when the Jerry Hahn Brotherhood shared the bill with Van Morrison and Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band.
I heard “Martha’s Madman” in my head, and I did what I usually do. I went to the iTunes Music Store. Nothing. Same at Amazon. So I walked down to the barn, where all my old albums are stored, and dug out my vinyl copy of “The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood,” which is now sitting on my desk. I no longer have the equipment to play it. Nearly every album in those boxes in the barn was converted to CD long ago — some of them several times over. But not “The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood.”
We live, of course, in an age of accelerating digital replication. Before long, it seems, every recording of every kind in existence, along with all the outtakes, will have been turned into a CD or a DVD or a digital file for download over the Internet. But some things get left behind.
Digital conversion seems almost effortless, a virtual transcription of the world as we know it. But there is a financial friction to it nonetheless. These days it’s no longer necessary to produce an actual physical CD to sell in record stores. Downloadable files will do — no packaging required — but even making these has its costs.
What it takes to push a work from analog to digital is a marketing opportunity. The death, for instance, of Johnny Cash and a movie based on his life was a wonderful chance, as one industry spokesperson put it, to revisit his inventory, which, as it happens, is partly on Columbia, a company now owned by Sony BMG.
There will probably never be a movie based on the Jerry Hahn Brotherhood, no commercial incentive to remaster and rerelease this album. The story of the band is a good one but all too familiar — the inevitable clash between the artistic and business sides of the recording industry. The band fell apart disputing the honesty of its manager.
What’s left is an orphaned vinyl LP. The inner sleeve, a space for record company promotion, says, “If It’s in Recorded Form, You Know It’ll Be Available on Records.” Well, I wish it were available on CD.
I talked to Jerry Hahn the other day. He teaches jazz guitar in Wichita, his hometown. He’ll be 66 in September, with grandkids. He sounds good. ‘You should have heard us,’ he said. He also said that the master tapes of The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood are stored somewhere in New York State. The man who produced the record has retired to Hawaii, where he and his wife own several restaurants. I haven’t been able to track down the manager. I’d like to hear his side of the story.
And as for hearing The Jerry Hahn Brotherhood album, one fan has posted the whole album in MP3 form — ripped from the vinyl — on the Web. I downloaded it the other day. It’s a digitally compressed version of an analog recording that was, according to Hahn, too compressed to begin with.
Even through the compression, you can still hear the brightness of the music. But someone needs to find those master tapes, breathe some air into them, and do this minor masterpiece (and all the outtakes) justice at last. I’d buy a copy, especially if I thought that some of the purchase price might make its way to the artists.”
