Album Review: The Clash - London Calling (1979)

Rip off an Elvis Presley album cover, take a bunch of English lads playing punk rock and infuse a bit of reggae and what do you get? London Calling by The Clash, that's what. 19 great (and by my own admission, a couple of dull) tracks, and the guilty conscience that occasionally surfaces with a cheapskate mentality subsides for a moment as you glow with a sense of unadulterated satisfaction for buying one of the greatest 10 buck punk albums ever made (second only to the the Ramone's self titled debut, of course). "London Calling", "Brand New Cadillac", "Lost in the Supermarket", "Clampdown" and "Revolution Rock" are just some of the corkers that have been etched into this brilliant record. Which is of course, your cue to go out and buy the blimmin' thing. Maybe it's the early onset and undiagnosed Parkinson's, or the childlike excitement that is me when I'm happy, but this thing gets you shaking faster than Mr T. coming at you. A

Album Review: Shania Twain - Come On Over (1997)

What do you get when you cross Shania Twain, Robert "Mutt" Lange, pop music and country music? One of the greatest albums of the 1990s and without a doubt one of the best of all time. This album was a life-saver in the ever increasing sea of musical garbage that was the late 1990s. Some very retro sounding tunes in here, but why should I complain - that's what got me hooked on the album in the first place. Granted, there's some rubbish songs on it, but fortunately they are an insignificant minority. Songs you should listen to are "When", "From this Moment On", "Man, I Feel Like A Woman!", "I'm Holding on to Love", "You're Still the One" and "Come On Over." That's right, all the one's that received radio airplay, and for good reason too. And I can't help but compare this with Def Leppard's 1987 masterpiece Hysteria for some reason. Perhaps it's because both were produced by Lange and both had half of their track listings make it onto the airwaves. My final verdict - imagine a hyperactive, sugared-up toddler clapping its hands furiously at a Wiggles stage show and you should get half the picture. A

Album Review: Bloodhound Gang - One Fierce Beer Coaster (1996)

Blatant disregard for the sanctity of human life, dignity and freedom from persecution make up the theme of this comedy CD cleverly disguised as an alternative rock album. Witty, musically sound (especially for alternative music, I might add), and with all the wrong messages espousing everything from the merits of killing yourself, the harassment of the homely, to downright idiocy, this album has everything going against it in terms of what constitutes a reputable album. But I don't really care, because I'm a drooling neanderthal. And having said that, for some reason this album has struck a chord for me in the entire 14 years that I've owned the flippin' thing. And to all my fellow music snobs and critics out there, for this I hope you will forgive me. A+

Note: Changes to review-writing

Writing music reviews for me nowadays can be a time-consuming process, even if the article is a mere 300 words long. But, after a long hiatus I am thinking about writing reviews again - however they will be somewhat shorter and less detailed, and as a rule I will be doing away with the intro paragraph that has previously accompanied my reviews. This of course will only apply to reviews I've written and not essays.

David

Creating the Ultimate Love Song - Do It Right and Forget about Love

The first ever love song I ever heard was Chris de Burgh's "The Lady in Red", way back around '86-87 or so. And despite being able to pick out several prominent flaws, what a brilliant love song it was, certainly from a musical perspective anyhow. The lyrics, I thought, were a bit too soft and mellowed out for my liking. And I must admit they still are. However, it did help open the door to a lifetime passion for the art of popular music, despite the words being a bit too lovey-dovey for a wee kid like myself. Never before had I heard a song so passionate and so serious, and that is probably what sent the shivers up my spine for all the wrong reasons. The paced, going-the-grope on your secretary tempo was forgivable, and I much prefer a fast song to a slow one, but toward the end you hear Chris whispering "I love you", which instantly invokes disturbing thoughts of a DJ from some Easy Listening radio station rambling away with a light, dulcet soft voice as he dedicates a song to a couple celebrating the husband getting it up for the first time in 37 years.

And since then I've heard all sorts of love songs from different artists spanning different genres. Bob Dylan wrote a few. So did Stevie Wonder. Bryan Adams wrote some appalling numbers, and the Bee Gees wrote some memorable tunes, even if they did sound all alike, no matter who happened to be singing them. And who could forget Barry White, bar most virgins and everyone in the third world? Dire Straits had their "Romeo and Juliet", Minnie Riperton blew out a few speakers with her glass-shattering, cacophonic ear-bleeder, "Loving You", and there was also the more acceptable, "Annie's Song" from the late John Denver.

But enough with the padding and rambling, and let's move on to a song that I genuinely believe is the greatest song that will EVER be written. Seriously. It is Bryan Ferry's "Slave to Love", and it is so good you'll marry the CD it comes on, in various ways effectively rendering the romantic intentions conveyed by the song redundant. And I bet Bryan was wearing a beret and oversized bowtie as he wrote it, because this is a masterpiece of epic proportions. This is one love song that doesn't make me shiver and go, "urgh." The Bossa Nova texturing, the very romantic aura, and the poetic precision of the lyrics all combined into one create a song that will make your eyes water as if you were sucking on a lemon. Top it off with the quietly cool Ferry's distinct vocals and you will have before you the most potent cure for depression that will ever be conceived.

When I first heard the song on the radio (possibly much, much earlier than what first comes to mind), I was blown away. You will be too if you listen to it. So here's some advice; forget about love, listen to this song and you'll be too busy basking in the aural succulence to be worrying where your next wild night will be coming from. Amongst all the praise, however, I must warn you that this song has been covered (in other words, destroyed) by other artists; my advice would be to not listen to them, as I have wisely done. Love songs just can't get any better than this.

Album Review: Johnny Cash - Johnny Cash at San Quentin (1969)

As a kid, I swore that I'd never listen to country music. Ever. To me, it was ample evidence of Satan's previous career as a choir director. Listening to the likes of Conway Twitty or Charlie Rich to me was like picking your nose with a red hot iron building rod dipped in chili sauce, a vile, and very unpleasant experience. The ultimate form of torture, if not execution. But as I got older, this position changed slightly and I began dabbling with a little bit of country music - in this case, Kevin Bloody Wilson. But the fact that it was country music was rapidly overlooked by the profanity and sexual innuendo that peppered every track. Who cared about the country/western theme when you had lyrics that sang about ungrateful Santa-worshiping kids profanely accusing poor old Pere Noel (aka St. Nick, Father Christmas, Santy Claus) of being women's genitalia, and rebuking them for not delivering the goods?

But now, as an adult (and in my case I use the term most liberally), I can now openly admit to enjoying the warblings of Grand Ole Opry's (and Nashville's, of course) finest, without being picked on and teased mercilessly. In fact, one of my three favorite artists includes the legendary Johnny Cash. But enough rambling, and let's get back on track.

In the span of two years (1968-1969), Johnny Cash released two live albums, both recorded in prisons, Folsom and San Quentin, to be exact. His respect for, and ability to sympathize with prisoners is evident on both, as is his newly found Christian faith. The latter, At San Quentin, is in my opinion, and contrary to that of most critics, is the better one of the two. The reason for this simply comes down to a better set list, with songs like "Wreck of the Old '97", "Darlin' Companion" and "Wanted Man" holding much more appeal and charisma than the slightly stale "I Still Miss Someone" the all-too-common "Folsom Prison Blues", and the downright dull "Dark as the Dungeon." Plus, it has a prettier bluish album cover, with it's predecessor being marked down for it's slightly poo-brown aura. Not that it's a bad album overall, in fact it's really a good album. Just not as good as San Quentin, which to me should rightfully be the flagship record for Johnny's discography. The moral of the story - don't dis Willie Nelson, and don't underestimate the brilliance of Johnny Cash. A-

Album Review: Journey - Greatest Hits (1988)

I try to avoid writing reviews on Greatest Hits compilations for a number of reasons, most notably because to talk about one in high regard shows that you've got about as much taste as someone who's had their tongue cut out. It can also show that you're financially tighter than a fish's sphincter and that you know about as much about music as an aborted fetus. Unless, of course, it's a corker, or it's the only record a band puts out that contains any reputable material on it. In other words, classic tracks from otherwise crappy albums.

Journey is one of those bands that make people want to go out and buy their Greatest Hits or Very Best Of albums, and skip buying the rest of their discography. In fact, their Greatest Hits collection from 1988 has well and truly outsold the rest of their back catalog, and for a good reason. Because it contains their signature ballad, "Don't Stop Believin'." Which is an excellent song I might add, legendary, in fact. But don't stop there - you've got the rest of the CD to deal with, full of songs that strategically capture that emotionally empowering Journey sound all on one disc. Except for "Wheel In The Sky", a song ruined by its introduction, which, annoyingly, got stuck in my head for about a year and almost turned me into a slightly fat version of the Incredible Hulk. And, in keeping with an unshakeable Journey tradition, the album cover is fantastically beautiful, detailed and exceptionally colorful.

So, if you want to know what the fuss is all about, go and buy this album. It wasn't until 2008 that I first discovered this album, and I'm kicking myself for not having discovered them years earlier. In a nutshell - they're basically Santana, but this time they're on cocaine. A-

Album Review: Pink Floyd - The Final Cut (1983)

Pink Floyd isn't exactly renowned for its uplifting, feel-good songs about brotherly love, world peace and the pursuit of happiness that doesn't involve smoking copious amounts of weed, which is incidentally, one way or another, the source of most of the former. On the contrary, many of the songs have a cynical, pessimistic, and somewhat dark mood to them that'll have a Valium-addled Barney the Dinosaur turn his left arm into a makeshift cutting board. Take 1979's The Wall for example, and an excellent example at that. A concept album revolving around a central character who's basically a personification of the band name, it progressively takes on pessimistic, dark themes, from fasicism, sadistic headmasters, hubby-beaters to suicide and depression. And even if you couldn't speak a word of English, you'd still find the album to be a gloomy state of affairs, that, weren't it not for its otherwise musically brilliant conception, would be enough to make you want to go bungee jumping by the neck from the nearest bridge.

The follow-up album, The Final Cut, largely carries on in this aspect, but instead applies it using war as a theme. But unlike its predecessor, it fails to carry on in its projection of brilliance and appeal, despite sounding very similar. Roger Waters knows how to make a great rock opera, and make it work, and it's this particular quality that spares the album from a potential bollocking on my part. Amongst all the war-bashing and Thatcher-bashing though (which isn't a bad thing, I must add), lies some Floyd classics, such as "The Final Cut", "Not Now John", "The Post War Dream" and to a lesser extent, "Your Possible Pasts." All of which make up for what would've been a somewhat bland and disappointing album otherwise, and perhaps, dare I say it, the soundtrack to your own suicide attempt. B+

Album Review: Chris Rea - New Light Through Old Windows (1988)

Quite often I've found that when an artist who's been in the game for some time (say, 20-30 years) decides to re-record many of their greatest hits, sometimes in lieu of an actual compilation of the originals, the end result is a modernized, yet greatly improved version of the original. Two prominent examples of this are Johnny Cash and Roy Orbison. Johnny Cash re-recorded many of his classics, such as "Ring of Fire", "Folsom Prison Blues" and "I Walk The Line", whilst Roy Orbison redid classics such as "Oh, Pretty Woman", "Ooby Dooby" (which craps all over the original, to be frank) and the eye-wateringly beautiful and operatic "Crying", in which he duets with K.D. Lang. And often these 'remakes' bring out the potential in which these songs had possessed all along, but remained vested, perhaps in the haste to put an album out, the absence of more modern recording technology, or simply due to sub-standard production work.

Lesser known, but woefully underrated English singer-songwriter Chris Rea did an excellent job of remaking many of his classic songs, like "On The Beach" and "Let's Dance" on his 1988 album, New Light Through Old Windows. Throw in a couple of newbies, like "Driving Home for Christmas", and "Working On It", and you've got an album that really redefines the term, 'optimism.' It took me a good 5 or 6 years to really appreciate this album, which is due to my maturity as a music fan at the time at which I bought it. Now, as I write this review, I've found that I simply can't get enough of it, and after playing each song 10,000 or so times, I'm yet to show any signs of boredom. I hope after only 10 times that you'll feel exactly the same way. A+

Album Review: The Ramones - Rocket to Russia (1977)

In the past decade and a half, I've been at odds with modern rock music and its overall tendency to produce what I would call a 'cacophonic odyssey of noises.' But to call it that would be far too complimentary - I would best define it as being stale, boring, lazy, cheap and an insult to the great institute that is rock 'n' roll. I felt (and still feel) that the only sub-genre of rock that will save it is pop punk. OK, you may say it appeals to squealing little girls, particularly with the word 'pop' in it, but to be quite frank, I'd rather suck a lemon with a festering case of mouth ulcers than listen to some of that other cack that spews forth from the radio nowadays. Now, I'm not saying that it's all bad, but for the most part I would say that the recording industry's forte now lies with making frisbees, beer coasters and shaving mirrors, rather than the bona fide rock albums of old. The reason why modern punk sounds so darn good is it seems to stick to its roots better than, say, heavy metal. Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple sound worlds away from Sepultura, Probot, or Slipknot, but the Ramones' sound can be clearly heard in the music of bands like Green Day and Rancid, so much so it sticks out like an anorexic at fat camp.

In contrast to their first album, Rocket to Russia by the Ramones sounds a lot more like its modern pop punk descendants. Its injection of surf rock makes it sound like the Beach Boys to Ramones' The Beatles, whereas Ramones sounds a lot more like the English punk that would follow in its own pioneering wake. And musicological analysis and historical background aside, it's a corker of an album too. Songs like, "Rockaway Beach" and an interesting cover of "Surfin' Bird" make this quite obvious. Coupled with fantastic, uplifting 'feel-good about yourself' ballads like "Locket Love", "Do You Wanna Dance?" and "Cretin Hop", and quirky numbers about the reality of family life (for some anyway) like, "We're A Happy Family", you've got a classic album that everyone except for the deaf should own. The way I see it, this album doesn't just belong on your turntable, CD player or iPod, but the album cover itself should be worn on the front of a black t-shirt by government decree. It is that worthy. So, go out and buy it. A

Album Review: Bob Dylan - Blonde on Blonde (1966)

In my previous two reviews of Dylan's handiwork, I've lambasted both albums for being boring or being of poor quality. I now must admit, I was a bit too critical of both works, although I still hold to my opinion that they are some of his least inspiring efforts. But that doesn't mean I think badly of Bob Dylan. Of all the musicians who have improved drastically throughout their careers, Bob Dylan has to be number one. Why? Because when he first started out nearly 50 years ago, his songs, despite the beauty of the accompanying lyrics that make Dylan who he is, his ability to make music was clearly a work in progress. Today though, if you listen to Modern Times or Love and Theft, you can hear the difference experience has made for whom I respectfully regard as the poet laureate of folk rock. And so do professional critics. They are both classic albums, and some of his best work. Despite his advancing age, he's clearly shown he still has the magic.

1966's Blonde on Blonde is an album I all too often overlook. It's a mixed bag of fun songs, love songs, borderline sad songs, songs about getting stoned, songs about women, songs about hats, uplifting songs...OK, I'll shut up now, you get the message. Anyway, the beauty of this album lies partially in its diversity, partially in the acoustic delicacy of tracks like "4th Time Around" and "Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands", and in fun, uplifting songs like "Absolutely Sweet Marie", "I Want You" and "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35." And we can't skip stereotypical "Dylanesque" tracks like "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again" and "Leopard Skin Pill-Box Hat." There truly is something for everyone on this album, and to demonstrate that I really have the maturity of a still born fetus, listen carefully to the last minute or so on "Rainy Day Women" and you'll hear someone in the background using the 'f' word. That's how fun this song really is. Overall, it is my opinion that anyone who considers themselves a music lover should own this album, for fear of having their house burnt down and their gonads sold for medicinal purposes. A

Album Review: Van Halen - Fair Warning (1981)

No great rock band is perfect, no doubt about it. Of course, they mostly release great albums, but amongst the discography titans lies some downright duds that either have one good song on them, or none at all. And what really makes them worse is the poor choice of album artwork, just to add injury to insult. People are still willing to fork out money to buy these albums, but of course, this is purely to elevate their status as a fan, not because the album compels them to jump up and down on their couches playing the air guitar with the apartment window wide open, so everyone in the real world can see them embarrass themselves.

Van Halen is one of those great rock bands, and is also one of my all time favorite and most inspirational bands, I'll make this quite clear. Albums like Van Halen, 1984 and 5150 are favored highly by both me and many music publications, for good reason. You have Eddie Van Halen, the legendary guitar hero who's dexterity and prowess with an ax wears the fretboard down faster than a woodpecker on speed. And you can't leave frontmen Diamond Dave and Sammy Hagar out of the picture either. Coming back to what I've said in the first paragraph, not all great bands consistently put out great albums. And Van Halen's Fair Warning from 1981 is an example of this. For starters, the album cover is a painting by Canadian artist William Kurelek, called, "The Maze." On a wall in an art gallery this might look good, but on an album cover it looks ghastly, like a homely-looking lunch lady from Romania with moles sprouting whiskers and teeth like a row of broken menhirs. And the layout artist could've chosen better typography for the band name too. Oh, and the rest of the album cover is poo brown, which looks really bad, even for 1981. Musically, things aren't quite as bad, but they could've been much better too, every song except for "Unchained" and possibly "One Foot Out the Door" are by Van Halen standards boring. Listen to this album once, and put it away, I say. B-

Album Review: Toni Childs - Union (1988)

Once upon a time, back in 1988, I was listening to the radio when I heard the sound of a singer with a voice like Barry White on helium. The song sounded pretty good, it had a nice melody, and so did the other two or so songs by the same artist that received airplay. For a while I thought it was a man singing these songs, but to my surprise, it wasn't. It was Toni Childs, a 'chick'. Now back then, for a lady to sound like a pro-wrestler that's just been Rochambeau-ed was a truly traumatic experience for a six year old aspiring music critic. Good thing I hadn't yet been exposed to Tracy Chapman, otherwise puberty would've come early that year, for sure.

But that voice would prove to be what I think is one of the most underrated in the industry, and if you've ever listened to Toni Childs' debut album, Union, you'd wholeheartedly agree. If you didn't, you should give up petrol sniffing and have your ears checked, because the poor sales record of this album (a pitiful 500k in the US, if I'm not mistaken) is a greater injustice than having all the starving third-world kiddies living off flies and ox dung. And the tracks say it all - radio favorites like "Don't Walk Away" and "Stop Your Fussin'" echo that distinctive "half-dropped teste" voice into the wild blue yonder, whilst "Hush" incrementally ups the emotive feedback with a pseudo-power ballad like imposition. Why this album failed to make any significant impact on the charts escapes me - it's all capitalism's fault this album garnered less praise than it truly deserves. Make no mistake, Toni's voice is distinct; it can take some getting used to, but you'll soon appreciate it for its identity and quality. A

Album Review: The Ramones - Ramones (1976)

As I've said 10,000 times before in my previous posts, I've developed an unexplainable infatuation with punk rock, 30 years after the rest of the world got sick of it and decided singing songs about Satan was a more pressing issue than getting rid of coppers, pollies, arguing that indecent exposure was perfectly decent, and that dope smoking and telling pensioners to sod off was none of the government's business. And some of the more conformist types will argue it's a bizarre genre in terms of it's social implications and impact on individuals - after all, these are people who buy their fashion accessories from pet stores. Even the cockatiels will take one look at their hairdos and wonder what they're doing out. But hey, I'm a man of liberty, I'll stand up for their right to wear dog collars, and their colorful hair is a refreshing change from the split-ended blond dos and salad-bowl haircuts that pepper the Auckland CBD.

Now, after listening to The Ramones' debut album, I've been suffering from a rather nasty case of psycho-motor agitation, it is that good I can't help but keep moving. This really is punk rock at it's finest, which makes a lot of natural sense, really. After all, they are regarded as being the very first punk rock band. Three chords and two minute length songs make for musical heaven for those with equally short attention spans. There is a notably consistent and comparable sound to many of these songs, such as in "Blitzkrieg Bop", "Judy is a Punk", and in "I Don't Wanna Go Down to the Basement" and "Loudmouth", which may be a problem if you have a tendency to get bored very quickly. But for me, it works out great. So much so that I'll probably starve to death by the time I'm through listening to them. Therefore, in concluding this review, if you want advice on what to buy if you're going through a punk-curious phase, may I suggest you buy this album. A-

Album Review: Phil Collins - Both Sides (1993)

Whenever I think of Phil Collins, I think of a musician who makes songs that, for the most part sound exactly the same as the others. I've heard people say that about Bruce Springsteen, but I tend to notice it a lot in Phil's solo work. Which some will hate, and others will loathe, but I can't help but appreciate Phil's apparent tendency to stick to a formula of sameness. It sounds great to me. Really. In fact, anything that deviated from this I will probably bin in great disgust and twice as angry as a Central Auckland bus driver on minimum wage with few dunny breaks doing a haka.

1993's Both Sides sounds like much of it's predecessors, such as ...But Seriously, except for the fact that apart from one song, "Everyday", it is twice as boring as a block of council flats. And to make things even worse, most of the songs are longer than the Great Wall of China, up to 7 minutes long in fact. Which is fine if it's a good song, or written by Jim Steinman, but given almost all songs have the charisma of a parliamentary backbencher, the only time you'll listen to the CD from start to finish is when you're asleep. I feel that "Every Day" really belongs on ...But Seriously, I can visualize it fitting in quite well with "Do You Remember?" and "Another Day in Paradise." Here, it sticks out like a pit bull amongst chihuahuas. B-

Album Review: The Strokes - Room on Fire (2003)

It has been my general opinion since 1997 that contemporary music has been getting progressively worse overall. My favorite radio station, which I liked because it played a balanced mixture of 80s music and (at that time) contemporary music, shut down and was replaced by a radio station catering for tweens and daddy's little teenage girls. The music they played was the crappy stuff, such as the Spice Girls and the Vengaboys, and everything else in between. If I'm being honest, I'd rather visit a nude beach than put up with Ginger Spice's acidic yodeling.

The Strokes aren't too bad by contemporary standards. They try their best, they have a largely positive image, and I like their album covers. I also like Albert Hammond Jr's name for some reason, it makes him sound like a veteran of the music industry, and hence a professional. By buying their 2003 record Room on Fire, you'll look at the album cover and instantly think '1970s.' But although it isn't a horrible album, there are notable flaws, one of them being the fact it doesn't sound 1970s at all, and the other is the tempos - they sound like they're having what their name implies, a stroke. "12:51", however is a fantastic song, and highly melodic, which as always I love. Record-mates "Between Love & Hate" and "The End Has No End", also make me want to live, but the rest simply get the 'meh' treatment from me. They're a bit like drinking Diet Sprite - you'll put up with it, but you'd much rather have the good stuff any day of the week. B

Album Review: The Police - Synchronicity (1983)

Reggae music, for me, holds the distinction of being one of the very few genres that actually sounds good naturally without forcing it to sound good. In fact, in order to make it sound bad you have to put effort into doing so. Its easy going nature, with its strong rhythm, laid back tempos and simple melodies, holds universal appreciation by followers of all music genres, not just Rastafarians, stoners, and confused bung-toothed whiteys in Bob Marley t-shirts. Mix it up with other forms of music, such as new wave and rock, and despite it's assimilation it will still manage to stand out like Wayne's World's Garth Algar at a Peter, Paul and Mary reunion special.

British pop rock band The Police built their success on their distinct reggae-infused pop rock numbers, like "So Lonely", "Walking on the Moon" and "De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da." It worked fantastically well for them, even though they would eventually put out only five albums, it still managed to propel them to stardom. But toward the end of their recording career, this reggae influence would be dropped in favor of a more new wave orientated sound. Expecting fans to start a soccer riot outside A & M headquarters and an entire race scapegoated, the reception proved to be anything but hostile, and was received well enough to earn them a few Grammys for the effort. Looking at the album as a whole, it comes across as being slightly above average in terms of perceived greatness, but the general quality of the tracklisting also seems well balanced, with "Every Breath You Take", "King of Pain", "Synchronicity I & II", "Wrapped Around Your Finger", "O My G-d", having the appreciative qualities of Jagermeister and Red Bull, whilst others, such as "Mother", "Walking In Your Footsteps" and "Miss Gradenko" being comparable to drinking window cleaner.

So in conclusion, my advice to anyone would be simply be this; if you're 'buy-curious' about The Police, you might like this album, if you're a Police fan, you better have this album already. B+

Album Review: Pantera - Cowboys From Hell (1990)

When people think of Heavy Metal music, they think of a band of four bogans wearing ripped Levis, long hair, t-shirts with their band name on it, armed with Flying-Vs and angrily screaming out Satan-themed lyrics darker than a chubby Goth chick's ass-crack. And their fans aren't much different either; up there in the mosh pit, dressed in black and banging their long-haired bonces around like a pro-wrestler with 'roid rage strangling a mop to thrash classics like "Whiplash" by Metallica, or "Rattlehead" by Megadeth. And when it comes to being stereotyped by others, they're probably the most care-free group of people you'll ever come across. And that's why I like them.

Pantera is a classic example of this metal-head stereotype. Their music screams power, anger and control, yet it doesn't seem to influence anyone in any negative way whatsoever. Listen to "F***ing Hostile", and you won't find people going at each other doing the two-fist twist. In fact, you'll find them jumping up and down with smiles on their faces large enough to accommodate a banana, and trying to restrain themselves from hugging people around them in all the excitement.

And now down to the album in question - Cowboys from Hell. Technically not their debut, but it is often regarded as their first proper mainstream album as a groove metal band. And a great debut it is, I went nuts for this album the first time I heard it. Unlike it's successor Vulgar Display of Power, I didn't have to wean myself into listening to it, and it wasn't the acquired taste I felt "Vulgar" was. And the songs will testify to this; "Primate Concrete Sledge", in it's own display of power, will get the adrenaline flowing first time you hear it, and the legendary "Cemetery Gates" is a (n ironically) mellowed out 'death' ballad to help bring you back down from that winded up state. And the album finishes with the very awesome "The Art of Shredding", one of my all time favorites.

The rest of the album is very close to being on par with these songs, in terms of quality and consistency (you like one, you'll like the others), but considering I'm pressed for space I'll leave it up to you to decide whether this record is just the cat's ass (that's a good thing). For me though, it's one of the best. A

Dave's Favorite Bands of the Past Four Decades

A new year, and a new decade already, wow time really goes too fast! Which in a way is a good thing, because you skip crappy music eras at a much faster pace. But on the other hand, you appear to get older quicker, and therefore die quicker. Which sucks, because I'll never have enough time to sample all the music I want to hear, and there's never a shortage of it either. But never mind my chronological hypochondria, here is yet another favorites list...

1960s: The Beatles

Woefully predictable - you'd think I had no mind of my own when I say the Fab Four was the greatest band of the decade. But 300 million music critics can't be wrong, and you simply can't deny facts. Gimme "Hey Jude", "Rocky Raccoon", "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds" and "Octopus' Garden", and you won't hear one word of complaint from me...

1970s: The Ramones

I've always been a closet punk rock fan, and this'll squash anything that suggests otherwise. Simple three-chord rock 'n' roll that'll grow on you faster than a malignant neck growth in Hiroshima. From "Blitzkrieg Bop" to "Chain Saw", you'll want to pull your stereo apart just to solder the repeat button pins together...

1980s: Metallica

The eighties was my favorite decade, even though I was just a kid (which explains a lot today) I have more fond memories than I have brain cells. Most of the decade I spent listening to the likes of Bruce Springsteen, Phil Collins and Michael Jackson earlier on to Fine Young Cannibals and Milli Vanilli (of whom I'm deeply ashamed to admit) towards the later years. This is the decade in which my love of music developed. But it took another 15 flippin' years for me to get hooked on the legendary Metallica, whom in their prime were an unstoppable force of epic proportions. No other thrash metal band has, or ever will rival their eighties works, EVER. To discover this band for the first time is like discovering a cure for cancer.

1990s: Green Day

In terms of overall quality, Green Day comes out on tops in the 90s group. Stereotypically punk, their 1994 album Dookie is regarded as one of the era's best, getting them my personal thumbs up as the best act of the 90s.

2000's: The White Stripes

Listen to Elephant, and you'll hear that simplicity need not be boring. Two colors, two band members, and what do you get for your money? The greatest rock act of the noughties by far. How many acts of this era made Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Albums of All Time list? Sweet diddly bugger all, and these guys are quite rightly one of them.

Album Review: Black Sabbath - Sabbath Bloody Sabbath (1973)

Back in the 70s, stoners would get together at a good friend's house, armed with nothing but a handful of tinnies, a selection of heavy metal and hard rock records, and a bong. They'd all sit on the floor next to the wood-trimmed stereo hi-fi system - state of the art for those days, and still the case if you live in a country who's minimum wage is three peanuts and one moldy persimmon a week. They would then put on Pink Floyd, and for the next 30 minutes giggle pointlessly and philosophize on random topics until they got so stoned they couldn't remember the next word that would come out of their mouth. One of them would then drink the bong water, change the record to Black Sabbath's Paranoid, and another would break three front teeth and chip another two after subsequently trying to eat it.

Black Sabbath's 1973 album Sabbath Bloody Sabbath certainly doesn't taste like plastic, and you certainly wouldn't want to consume it, but it is tasty nonetheless, especially if you have a diverse heavy metal palette on your musical tongue. Not their greatest album either, but certainly one you would be proud to say you owned. And two of the songs are so good Metallica fused them together and put them on their Garage Inc. album from 1998, with very favorable results. "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath", the title track, is one of the greatest intro tracks to grace a metal album. "A National Acrobat" and "Sabbra Cadabra", the two tracks covered by Metallica, are forgotten classics that should be on any Sabbath playlist. or heavy metal playlist for that matter. "Fluff" is a delightful little acoustic number reminiscent of Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here", and "Who Are You?" is a pseudo-futuristic synth-heavy tune that despite the use of a synthesizer still avoids sounding out of place with the rest of the album. "Looking for Today" is the last and weakest track and would make the aforementioned stoner eat the record had it been the first track played.

All in all, this album is a notable one in the Black Sabbath discography that is often overlooked in favor of albums like Paranoid and their debut album Black Sabbath. But don't let that put you off listening to it. Try it, you'll like it. A-