Total album sales: 2 million + Peak chart position: 30

"Who says discipline is a bad thing? No one who's heard American Beauty, the Dead's greatest studio achievement. Showcasing 10 concise, country-rooted gems that sound equally good whether you're hanging on the front porch in the afternoon or nursing a bottle after hours, this one could win over many an anti-Jerry. Bewildered by loss both personal and social--the hippie dream was quickly crashing by Beauty's 1970 release date--the band put its querulousness ("Box of Rain") and wry humor ("Truckin'") into the service of a masterwork. The most impressive cut of all may be "Ripple," Garcia's spiritual credo."

(Rickey Wright)

A companion piece to the luminous Workingman's Dead, American Beauty is an even stronger document of the Grateful Dead's return to their musical roots. Sporting a more full-bodied and intricate sound than its predecessor thanks to the addition of subtle electric textures, the record is also more representative of the group as a collective unit, allowing for stunning contributions from Phil Lesh (the poignant opener "Box of Rain") and Bob Weir ("Sugar Magnolia"); at the top of his game as well is Jerry Garcia, who delivers the superb "Friend of the Devil," "Candyman," and "Ripple." Climaxing with the perennial "Truckin'," American Beauty remains the Dead's studio masterpiece -- never again would they be so musically focused or so emotionally direct.

(by Jason Ankeny, All Music Guide)

Indeed. What an appropriate title for a record that takes some of the eldest, bearded, most respectable American musical styles, strips them bare of everything that witty rock musicians have invented in the past two or three years and presents in their 'naked beauty'. On first listen, I hated this album. 'I can't believe it!' I was saying to myself. 'They call it a classic? This dead-ly bore with not a single original or memorable melody in sight?' But of course, this turned out to be one of those cunning records that are not melody-oriented at all, or at least, not hook-oriented...
Like Workingman's Dead, this record presents the Grateful Dead as a folk/country band, with no traces of a spaced-out jam anywhere in sight; unlike Workingman's Dead, though, the album is somewhat more diverse and the songs are somewhat more edgy, which is why most fans of the two records prefer the second one over the first one. There's just about, like, totally nothing revolutionary or revelatory about this album - all of this stuff was already done by the Byrds (whose output many of the numbers painfully recall, especially the more 'harmonized' ones) and other, less significant folk-rock bands before. However, once you take a somewhat deeper insight (and take a couple more listens, which also won't hurt), you'll discover that this style has little in common with the Byrds, harmonies excepted. In fact, the 'harmonized' numbers are eventually the worst on record - like the dreadful 'Attics Of My Life', a super-slow, lethargic lullaby that'll put a zombie back in the ground in a second's time. Of course, it's probably a fan favourite, but I've already offended so many fans' favourites on this site that one more will have little effect on the death sentence already carried out... But hey, my commentators tend to agree with me on that one, so at least I don't feel alone and deserted.
The biggest difference is, of course, that the Dead use their typical guitar sound that bears no resemblance to McGuinn's patented '12-string jangle'. Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir use their instruments with mastership - and, in this case, quite economically. Tasteful guitar licks abound - like the riff that holds together the pretty, fast-paced folkish ditty 'Sugar Magnolia', or the R'n'B elements on 'Truckin'. The production is also much more 'thin' than the Byrds' one, and the material is thus somewhat more 'accessible' - sometimes it sounds like the band are just having a groovy time in your living-room. And, of course, harmonies or no harmonies, the boys always do a great singing job each on his own (I'm just not a fan of singing in unison!).
Now the material here is really uneven, which is still my main complaint. Yet this is also an advantage - see, while the style of this record was never invented by the members of the Dead themselves, the actual melodies on here are hardly ripped-off: I hear plenty of ideas that I'd never heard before. I mean, I can often accuse Dylan of stealing folk melodies and passing them for his own, but I really couldn't say the same about the Dead. These songs, in contrast to the general marking 'traditional, arranged by so-and-so', should all be tagged: 'traditionally arranged, by the Grateful Dead' (now do you see the improtance of commas?).
So yeah, there are some hit and miss moments on the album, but that's gotta be forgiven. Like I said, 'Attics Of My Life' is a horrendous song, and I'll probably never change my opinion about that one. 'I-i-i-i-i-n the a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ttics o-o-o-o-o-f my-y-y-y-y-y li-i-i-i-i-i-ife...', boy, I feel this coma coming on again. Let's change subject and speak of Garcia's 'Friend Of The Devil', the song I like the most on here because it's probably your best bet for a heart-wrenching pessimistic ballad on the album, you know, of the type 'got-that-hound-on-my-trail-gotta-run-afore-it's-too-late' kinda stuff. It's got some great countryish guitar, too, but my main compliments are directed at the singing and lyrics. Out of the sad, whiny numbers there's also the opening 'Box Of Rain', a great multi-guitar song where, for once, the harmonies sound really really good. The message is a little unclear, although, but I don't mind.
Out of the fast numbers you're probably sure to know 'Truckin', with its great instrumentation and telling lyrics about the band's touring schedule and their, well, disappointment in True Love (a subject common in 1970, but to hear lines like 'Most of the cats you meet on the street speak of True Love/Most of the time they're sitting and crying at home' in a Grateful Dead is a little like hearing Richard Nixon advising American kids to drop out). 'What a long strange trip it's been' indeed. It also strikes you as pretty upbeat and even 'raving' as compared to the quiet atmosphere of the album - and the vocal melody style is definitely ripped-off of Chuck Berry's numbers such as 'No Particular Place To Go', with just a wee bit of speeding up. But I guess that's a conscious rip-off: after all, it was only natural for the band to end this 'roots tribute' with a Fifties' boogie sendup.
But if that's all you know from this record, don't you miss the already mentioned 'Sugar Magnolia' with that cool guitar riff, nor 'Operator', a sly slide-driven number with particularly 'attractive' (yeah, right) vocals by Pigpen, the harmonica player. Finally, I've even overcome myself to appreciate 'Candyman', a number that recalls Bob Dylan circa 1962: a lengthy, drooning folk number that nevertheless sounds inviting and very disposing - where 'Attics Of My Life' just invites you to lean on your pillow, 'Candyman' really invites you to lightly tap your foot and rock to and fro in harmony with the melody.
So, as you see, apart from the wretched 'Attics' and a couple of other minor misfires, I pretty much manage to dig this record. I almost find this strange, because I never really usually dig 'hardcore Americano' records (hell, I even expressed my displeasure towards Willy And The Poorboys), and yet, this album is likable for me, even if I can't name any original ideas on here. I guess I ought to put the blame on the band's high-heeled professionalism and, well, taste: sure, I know that accusing the Dead of having taste is pretty much an oxymoron, but what can one do if one is put in front of inescapable facts? Go buy this record and put it next to the American flag if you keep one in your house. Well, I don't suppose it's called American Beauty for nothing - here's a title that matches an album's content as perfectly as it ever gets.

(by George Starostin, Only Solitaire)

Taylor's second album landed him on the cover of Time magazine and secured his place as the patriarch of the 1970s singer-songwriter scene. But he went through a private hell on his way to success; the album's Top Five hit "Fire and Rain" was inspired by Taylor's stay in a psychiatric institution in the mid-1960s (he had committed himself) and the suicide of a fellow patient. Taylor set a new standard for confession in pop lyrics on "Fire and Rain." But it is the quiet strength in his voice, framed by the skeletal grace of Peter Asher's production, that still makes this album a model of folk-pop healing music. (Rolling Stone)

Total album sales: 3 million / Peak chart position: 3

"The album that launched a thousand heavy-hearted singer/songwriters on their not-so-merry way, Sweet Baby James was arguably the first shot in what became the soft revolution of the early '70s. A refugee of the Beatles' Apple label, Taylor struck commercial gold with Sweet Baby James by augmenting his acoustic guitar and soothing vocals with laid-back accompaniment (with included equally influential singer/songwriter insurrectionist Carole King on piano) and penning a slew of songs that drew upon folk, soul, and rock influences. "Fire and Rain" stands as the quintessential early Taylor tune: musically mellow and lyrically restive, it put Taylor in the Top 10 and set the tone for a popular school of '70s sound."

(Steven Stolder, All Music Guide)

Peter Hammill has always had an abiding interest, it seems, in the blurred boundary between the mystical and the scientific, and between the rational and magical mind; this is certainly evident on the debut Van Der Graaf Generator album, even though Hammill had yet to really begin focusing himself on what it was that was driving him (despite the fact that the band's very name referenced a device that resembles a bastard mix of scientific apparatus and shamanic totem). The Least We Can Do brings those concerns to the fore with ferocity, with time out for a couple of more personal pieces ("Refugees" and "Out of Our Book"). Hammill's lyrics, delivered with all the passion and intent he can muster, reference mysticism, numerology, astrology, various religious pantheons, the Malleus Maleficarum (leading Hammill to conclude, a bit too hopefully, that magic needs to be gray to be balanced), Robert van deGraaf himself (in "Whatever Would Robert Have Said?"), the future of humanity, and surviving ecological catastrophe. This being the start of the 1970s, the hopeful notes are drowned out by the tidal wave of fear, sadness, and despair, despite which, the music does tend to be rather uplifting, thanks to the undercurrent of barely restrained majesty VDGG tended to have (possibly thanks to Hugh Banton, who had been rather used to communicating with God via church and cathedral organs; he brought that expertise to a position more normally occupied by determined B3 thumpers engaged in battle with show-horse guitarists). The main thing that The Least We Can Do is in need of now is a good remastering job (and the addition of a few leftover tracks, such as the "Refugees" single version and its B-side.) The Virgin CD transfer is a lazy example of taking an album master and making a CD master from it, leaving the album lacking dynamic range and sounding a bit muffled. With the release of Box, one can hope.

(by Steven McDonald, All Music Guide)

Although the Greatest Show on Earth (GSOE) were not the first bunch of rockers to incorporate a powerful brass and woodwind section, they are among the best and heaviest-sounding British bands to have emerged from the post-psychedelia of the late '60s and early '70s. GSOE were, in essence, the invention of EMI Records subsidiary Harvest, who were focusing in on new and progressive artists such as Pink Floyd and Deep Purple. When the group was initially signed in 1968, they were an R&B/soul revue whose forte was more along the lines of Stax or Motown, instead of trippy acid rock. After ditching their original vocalist, Ozzie Lane, they eventually settled on Colin Horton Jennings, a multi-faceted performer who would begin to compose originals that would allow the octet to incrementally abandon their Yankee soul leanings. After a few months of woodshedding new tunes, they emerged with a fresh sound and material for their debut, Horizons (1970). The extracted single "Real Cool World" is marked by its open-throttle, galloping tempo and some equally pungent electric organ riffs. As such, it was also given a few cursory spins on BBC's Radio One; however, the remainder of the disc was criminally overlooked. To modern ears, this is a great shame, as the effort is full of well-crafted and adeptly executed material. Of primary interest is the aggressive rocker "Angelina" and the groovy "Skylight Man." The latter title features a brief and buoyant trumpet-led introduction by Dick Hanson that recalls the Tijuana Brass more so than, say, Blood, Sweat & Tears or Chicago. The darker "I Fought for Love" stands as one of the edgier sides and is augmented by some stellar organ leads and fills from Mick Deacon. The title track extends over a quarter-hour and allows the combo room to demonstrate their remarkable improvisational skills in the context of an ensemble. In particular, Ron Prudence (drums/percussion) and Norman Watt-Roy (bass/vocals) stand out as a rock-solid rhythm section. Although they stuck around for a follow-up effort, The Going's Easy, the Greatest Show on Earth were never given the due that this release so evidently deserves.

(by Lindsay Planer, All Music Guide)

Joni Mitchell's third album offers a bridge between the artful but sometimes dour meditations of her earlier work and the more mature, confessional revelations of the classics that would follow. Voice and guitar still hew to the pretty filigree of a folk poet, but there's the giggling rush of rock & roll freedom in "Big Yellow Taxi," and the formal metaphor of her older songs ("The Circle Game," already oft-covered by the time of this recording) yields to the more impressionistic images of the new ones ("Woodstock"). The dark lyricism of her earliest ballads is intact (on "For Free" and "Rainy Night House"), yet there's a prevailing idealism here that sounds poignant alongside the warier, more mature songs to come on Blue and Court And Spark. --Sam Sutherland

"That was the type of band I dig," Morrison said of the Moondance sessions. "Two horns and a rhythm section -- they're the type of bands that I like best." Morrison took that soul-band lineup and blended it with jazz, blues, poetry and vivid memories of his Irish childhood, until songs such as the title track, "And It Stoned Me" and "Caravan" felt like a lucid dream. On the sprightly "Everyone," Morrison turns the title over and over in his mouth, not scatting so much as searching for the sound of magic. One song, "Into the Mystic," serves as an apt summary: To listen to the album is to get your passport stamped for Morrison's world of ecstatic visions.

(Rolling Stone)

© Stereoplay

Dieses leuchtende Kleinod der britischen Folk-Rock-Geschichte war einige Zeit vergriffen, dabei handelte es sich mit Sicherheit um eines der schönsten Alben, das Sandy Denny je eingespielt hatte. Jetzt gibt es das Werk von Sandy, Trevor Lucas, Jerry Donahue, Pat Donaldson und Gerry Convay in einer liebevoll restaurierten (äußerlich wie innerlich, das Remastering geschah unter dem wachsamen Ohr von original-Produzent Joe Boyd) Version, zusätzlich erweitert um 4 Bonustracks, die 1970 beim Rotterdam Festivasl mitgeschnitten wurden. Der kunstvoll verspielte, verträumt schwebende, von wunderbarem Harmonie-Gesang gekrönte Folk-Rock Fotheringay’s hat die Jahrzehnte leuchtend lebendig überstanden.

(Glitterhouse)

When Sandy Denny departed Fairport Convention, insisting that she wanted to concentrate upon her own songwriting rather than pursue the band's exploration of traditional English music, she never meant she also intended abandoning the folk idiom itself. Although all but two of the songs on this, her first post-Fairport project, are indeed original compositions, it is readily apparent that, like former bandmate Richard Thompson, her greatest talents lay distinctly within the same traditions as the poets and balladeers of earlier centuries, while the fact that fully one-half of Fotheringay itself would eventually join Fairport illustrates the care that went into the band's formation. Even the group's name resonates -- "Fotheringay" was also one of Denny's best-loved Fairport songs. Listening to the album, too, one can see and hear the mother ship all over the show, from the tight dynamics of "The Sea" to the simple beauty of "Winter Winds" and on to the showpiece "The Banks of the Nile," a Napoleonic Wars-era ballad set firmly in the storytelling mold of "A Sailor's Life," "Tam Linn," and the post-Denny Fairport's own "Bonnie Bunch of Roses." The presence of producer Joe Boyd and guest vocalist Linda Peters complete the sense of a family affair.Where Fotheringay and Fairport drift apart is in the instrumentation -- one of Fairport's most-endearing talents, after all, was the sense of ramshackle adventure that the bandmembers brought to their recordings. Fotheringay was far more "musicianly," packing a perfectionism that comes close, in places, to stifling the sheer exuberance of the music. The overuse of Trevor Lucas' distinctly mannered vocals, too, reveals the album in a disappointing light -- great guitarist though he was, his voice offers nothing that you could not hear in any amateur folk club, any night of the week, rendering Dylan's "Too Much of Nothing," Gordon Lightfoot's "The Way I Feel," and his own "Ballad of Ned Kelly" little more than makeweights. Such failings are completely overshadowed, of course, by the triumphs that are Denny's finest contributions -- the best of which close the album on a peak unheard since "The Sea," back at the beginning of the cycle. "The Banks of the Nile" rates among the loveliest and most evocative performances of her entire career, while the hauntingly hypnotic "Two Weeks Last Summer" and a moody "Gypsy Davey" draw out an expressiveness that had similarly been in short supply elsewhere on the record. The end result is an album that, while every Denny fan should hear it, is best experienced sliced and diced across the various compilations that purport to tell the story of Fairport Convention. Bereft of the faults that never make those collections, Fotheringay deserves every kind word that has ever been sent in the band's direction.

(by Dave Thompson, AMG)

This 75 minute album, originally a double-LP (recorded live at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City on April 3, 1970) is a valiant attempt at capturing their concert sound on record. Unfortunately, it fails for several reasons, beginning with the fact that the instrumental mix is very bass-heavy--even with adjustments to compensate, this overwhelms much of the rest of the band on several key numbers. Additionally, the group's singing, though more than adequate, lacks the presence needed to give their harmonies the necessary radiance to make the music fully attractive, coming off instead as anemic. The real problem is that cutting a live album was a thankless task for this group--so much of their sound was dependent on a studio-driven perfection, that live recording was an exercise in futility (let's put it this way--the Beach Boys pulled this off more than once, but they had a resident genius around part of the time doing their arrangements; the Association, no genius in the ranks). "Goodbye Columbus" is a case in point, receiving a breezy, cheerful number that gets a spirited performance, but it still sounds thin and emaciated, because the single is the way that song is supposed to sound, period. By contrast, their rendition of "Get Together," complete with lyrical and soaring harmonies, is a masterpiece of a kind--or it would be if it were a prelude to a studio recording where the balances could be refined and perfected. As it is, the band often sounds clunky on their instruments, even as they sing their hearts out. "Seven Man Band" features some ferocious fuzz guitar that gets buried in mix. Some songs do work--"Cherish" is a bit emaciated but ultimately makes for interesting listening, while "Requiem For The Masses" and "Enter The Young" come off well on any terms. It's hardly worth the inflated price of the Japanese imported CD, except for the most hardcore completists.

(by Bruce Eder, All Music Guide)

You wouldn’t think that a band with such a polished studio sound would be a good live act, but the Association were real pros, not only capable of hitting those incredible harmonies in a live (and high-altitude!) setting, but also—given their reliance on studio musicians—surprisingly capable players as well. This April 3, 1970 show at the University of Utah also reveals some other sides of the band, as they cover some songs (Let’s Get Together; Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You) that reveal, lurking behind those note-perfect arrangements, was a pretty fine folk-rock group. We’ve squeezed the entire, 74-minute double live-album on to one CD—it’s a great listen! Includes One Too Many Mornings; Along Comes Mary; I’ll Be Your Man; Goodbye, Columbus; Get Together; Wasn’t It a Bit Like Now; Never, My Love; Goodbye Forever; Just About the Same; Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You; Seven Man Band; Time It Is Today; Dubuque Blues; Blistered; What Were the Words; Remember; Are You Ready; Cherish; Requiem for the Masses; Windy, and Enter the Young.

(www.amazon.com)

Known primarily for their late-60's hit singles, one thing that too many people overlook about the Association is that they were also a great live band, as this 1970 release, "The Association: Live" proves beyond a doubt. Recorded in concert on April 3, 1970 at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, this seven-man band are in top form. They're more raw-sounding live, but still with all of the great vocal harmonies and musical chemistry that made them so good on record. This is a 74-minute, 22-song set with the Association going through their repertoire up through their 1969 self-titled masterpiece, which they were touring for at the time. Many Association favorites are featured, including "Along Comes Mary," "Goodbye Columbus," "Never My Love," "Time It Is Today," "Cherish," and their biggest hit, "Windy," all performed wonderfully. Not only that, but the band do a fine cover of the Youngbloods' "Get Together," plus a jaunty, previously unheard song called "Just About The Same," as well as absolutely haunting renditions of "Remember" and "Requiem For The Masses." And if that wasn't enough, the Association also perform three songs from their brilliant self-titled album: "Goodbye Forever," "Dubuque Blues," and "What Were The Words." The band are also very funny showmen, such as the bit where they try to get the audience to "get in touch" with one another, and Larry Ramos---the lone Hawaiian in the band---remarking how hard it is working in a group "with six token whites." Priceless!Interestingly, though, the Association don't look back upon this live album with great affection. The University of Utah, where this gig was recorded, is apparently at a high altitude, and the band say that the slightly-thinner air affected their vocal performances. Well, guys, you could've fooled me, because you sound superb on this recording. To heck with thinner air---this is a GREAT live performance. If you love this band as much as I do, then you just *gotta* pick up "The Association: Live." And thank you, Association, for all of your great music.

(Alan Caylow, amazon.com)

True, the band wasn't exactly the hippest property around at the time (heck, this is from a Salt Lake City concert). And yes, there is a definate aura of studio tamper-ment that hovers around the album. But let's be honest, folks; how much does hearing The Association live and "raw" really matter?

In fact, when this album works best, it works as a wonderful "prism" through which their sixties hits are refracted. For although their self-titled album was slightly behind them by this point, the spirit that formed it was clearly still in attendence (and you can read my review of their self-titled album if you want to know my opinion on THAT heavenly piece of plastic). Thus, pure live, slightly overdubbed, or pure studio, each song is given a spirited re-arrangement that manages to freshen up even the most saccharine of their hits. Call me a heretic, but I think the version of "Goodbye Columbus" here absolutely blows away the hit version; while some of the studio perfection is inevitably lost, the sheer energy (And these guys are more than capable!) of the rendition and rearrangement let it become something *more* than the studio version. The same goes for the played-to-death "Cherish," which I enjoy here far more than I do the hit version.

Additionally, some of the re-arrangements are very indicative of a lot of thought and creativity. In particular, Terry Kirkman's flute becomes a primary instrument in many songs, and in some cases ("Along Comes Mary" and "Time it Is Today") this manages to completely transform the songs.

Downsides? Well, some of the selections chosen are a bit dubious (although I absolutely love the inclusion of "Goodbye Forever," one of the oft-overlooked gems from Self-titled/Stonehenge), and while some of the rearrangements work, I'm ambivalent regarding the decision to turn "Dubuque Blues" into a "shouter." And the crowd banter, while amusing the first few times through, is occasionally a bit awkward (one skit about "getting in touch with those around you" goes on for uncomfortably long).

This all used to be something of a foregone conclusion, though, as "Live" was previously only available as a prohibitively-expensive Japanese import. Thankfully, Collectors Choice has reissued the set domestically, and while these domestic CDs have come under fire for losing the bonus tracks on the Japanese issues, this had nothing to lose in the first place! A few listens have revealed nothing obvious missing from the import CD version.

Still, most listeners (and especially Association neophytes and/or those who aren't exactly sure if a live album by such a historically-unhip band is a great investment) will do well by first tracking down a cheap vinyl copy of the album, which tends to be fairly easy to do. I love "Live" for its rearrangements of some seriously-overplayed tracks and uncelebrated gems, but those looking for something more approximating the hits will do better to stick with the studio incarnations.

(Dave Goodwin, amazon.com)

I like to think that GOR strives to publish some important literary or philosophical works--pieces designed to better advance the understanding of mankind. And then there's fluff.

As of late, I've been downloading pieces of music which are over thirty years old. I suppose I should feel dated, but the recently released movie The Talented Mr. Ripley is based upon the fifty-plus year old mystery of the same name, and the Lord Of The Rings trilogy is nearly a tottering sixty-five years of age. So, snide remarks from a few of you aside, I don't feel quite as dated as I thought I might.

That leads me to The Association Live at the University of Utah circa 1970. I've tormented family and friends with this album for a couple of weeks now, and no one seems to understand its appeal. Jeef and Dagny put on pained smiles and attribute it to a lapse in the effectiveness of my medication. After all, I admit that I didn't see this concert live, I was overseas at the time. So why the fond memories?

The group hit its artistic peak in this era, with the arguable exception of one later released song which was never a top forty hit. Started by jazz and pop musician, Terry Kirkman and folk guitarist, Jules Alexander, the Association is currently the staple of oldies stations and soft rock stations everywhere--a sure guarantee for the prospect of fading into oblivion if anyone ever needed one. Those of you who might be willing to check in with your parents will hear them say things like, "Oh yeah, 'Cherish' and 'Along Comes Mary'," [from the album Along comes the...Association, 1966] or possibly, "Didn't they do 'Never My Love' and 'Windy'?" [Insight Out, 1967] Then, of course, your parents can move on to far more important issues like current online mortgage rates or "Survivor on The French Riviera" finalists.

So what is the purpose of reviewing a time capsule artifact which no one will ever hear? The answer lies somewhere between melody and musicianship. This album is a composite of vocal/symphonic moments which overcome the technical recording deficiencies of the day.

Wait a minute, how can an album without symphonic instruments [other than the occasional horn, flute, keyboard, or percussion embellishment] be considered symphonic?

God, I'm glad you asked. What is the difference between pop vocal and art music choral? Intention? Formal training? Arrangement? Ah, a touch of all three is the best answer. Seven strong voices--okay, six strong and one pretty damn adequate--can ring out and intricately blend caressing the ear with a symphonic presence which is totally unexpected to the casual listener.

Melody--let's push the obvious songs--"Cherish," "Never My Love," "Windy," off to the side for moment. Tenor, Jim Yester's haunting ballad, "Remember," still captures the imagination and the heart due to its gorgeous imagery and Yester's unparalleled vocal range. Baritone, Russ Giguere's "I'll Be Your Man" slowly builds into a full group vocal which punctuates his final plaintive statement with a strength which surpasses the meaning of the words showcasing the moment with an emotional impact which is pure melody.

The group symphonic voice reaches its epitome in "Requiem For The Masses," Terry Kirkman's anti-war anthem which still carries surprising impact in these aftermath days of Mr. Bush's conflict. "Black and white was the question that so bothered him...He never asked...He was taught not to ask...But was on his lips as they buried him." Never underestimate the power and flexibility of the human voice. This is where the layered symphonic effect rings out at its most orchestral.

There are some "classic sixties philosophical screw-up" moments in the piece, but one must forgive them in an album released in early 1970. Is it a nostalgia piece? Of course it is. After all, I'm not only human, but I am dreadfully dated as well. But might it put a smile on any music listener's face? I'm counting on it.

(by Chuck Davis, www.godsoframen.com)

With the return of Gary Duncan and the recording debut of founder Dino Valenti, Just for Love, Quicksilver's fourth album, marked their debut as the band they were intended to be. The ironic thing about that is that, led by singer/songwriter Valenti, they were a much more pop-oriented band than their fans had come to expect. On Just for Love, Quicksilver finally was Valenti's backup group (he wrote all but one of the songs), and while this gave them greater coherence and accessibility, as well as their only Top 50 single in "Fresh Air," it also made them less the boogie band they had been. And it meant the band's days were numbered.

The panoramic anguish of Eric Clapton's singing and guitar-playing here -- in songs such as "Why Does Love Got to Be So Sad" and the searing title track -- was the product of very private hurt: his romantic yearning for the then-wife of his best friend, George Harrison. Layla is also a two-LP feast of dueling guitars, as Clapton soared in tandem with session guest and slide virtuoso Duane Allman. They had not met prior to the sessions, but their interplay in "Key to The Highway" and "Have You Ever Loved a Woman" is both harmonious and fiercely competitive -- electric, brotherly love. (Rolling Stone)

Total album sales: Under 500,000
Peak chart position: 16

For a decade, King wrote pop songs with her then-husband, Gerry Goffin: hits such as Little Eva's "The Loco-Motion" (Eva Boyd was the couple's baby sitter) and the Monkees' "Pleasant Valley Sunday." Then King's friend James Taylor encouraged her to sing her own tunes. "We would record my songs, and then we would go to another studio where James was recording his album," King said of making Tapestry. She slowed down "Will You Love Me Tomorrow?" (originally a hit for the Shirelles in 1961), heightening the melancholy inside, while her warm, earnest singing brought out the sadness in "It's Too Late" and the earthy joy on "I Feel the Earth Move." On Tapestry, King remade herself as an artist and created the reigning model for the 1970s female singer-songwriter. (Rolling Stone)

Total album sales: 10 million, Peak chart position: 1

"Also known as the "primal scream" album, referring to the painful therapy that gave rise to its songs, Plastic Ono Band was Lennon's first proper solo album and rock & roll's most self-revelatory recording. Lennon attacks and denies idols and icons, including his own former band ("I don't believe in Beatles," he sings in "God"), to hit a pure, raw core of confession that feels like reality, however agonizing, and, in its echo-drenched, garage-rock crudity, is years ahead of punk. Lennon sings about childhood loss in "Mother" and skirts blasphemy with "Working Class Hero": "You're still fucking peasants as far as I can see." But the unkindest cut came in his notoriously frank 1970 Rolling Stone interview. "The Beatles was nothing," Lennon stated acerbically." (Rolling Stone)
Total album sales: 750,000
Peak chart position: 6

The foreboding crawl of the Hammond organ is what made Van Der Graaf Generator one of the darkest and most engrossing of all the early progressive bands. On H to He Who Am the Only One, the brooding tones of synthesizer and oscillator along with Peter Hammil's distinct and overly ominous voice make it one of this British band's best efforts. Kicking off with the prog classic "Killer," an eight minute synthesized feast of menacing tones and threatening lyrics, the album slowly becomes shadowed with Van Der Graaf's sinister instrumental moodiness. With superb percussion work via Guy Evans, who utilizes the tympani drum to its full extent, tracks like "The Emperor in His War-Room" and "Lost" are embraced with a blackened texture that never fades. The effective use of saxophone (both alto and tenor) and baritone from David Jackson gives the somberness some life without taking away any of the instrumental petulance. H to He is carpeted with a science fiction theme, bolstered by the bleak but extremely compelling use of heavy tones and the absence of rhythms and flighty pulsations. This album, which represents Van Der Graaf in their most illustrious stage, is a pristine example of how dark progressive rock should sound.

(by Mike DeGagne, All Music Guide)

A fascinating reissue that comfortably straddles the lines of jazz, folk and world music, working up a storm by way of a jazz protest album that points toward the Spanish Civil War in particular and the Vietnam War in passing. Haden leads the charge and contributes material, but the real star here may in fact be Carla Bley, who arranged numbers, wrote several, and contributed typically brilliant piano work. Also of particular note in a particularly talented crew is guitarist Sam Brown, the standout of "El Quinto Regimiento/Los Cuatro Generales/Viva La Quince Brigade," a 21-minute marathon. Reissue producer Michael Cuscuna has done his best with the mastering here, but listeners will note a roughness to the sound -- one that is in keeping with the album's tone and attitude.

(by Steven McDonald, AMG))

(ME/Sounds. 5 Sterne)

Already a respected arranger and pianist who'd contributed to dozens of records (by artists ranging from the Impressions to Carla Thomas to Woody Herman), with this debut LP Donny Hathaway revealed yet another facet of his genius -- his smoky, pleading voice, one of the best to ever grace a soul record. Everything Is Everything sounded like nothing before it, based in smooth uptown soul but boasting a set of excellent, open-ended arrangements gained from Hathaway's background in classical and gospel music. (Before going to Howard University in 1964, his knowledge of popular music was practically non-existent.) After gaining a contract with Atco through King Curtis, Hathaway wrote and recorded during 1969 and 1970 with friends including drummer Ric Powell and guitarist Phil Upchurch, both of whom lent a grooving feel to the album that Hathaway may not have been able to summon on his own (check out Upchurch's unforgettable bassline on the opener, "Voices Inside (Everything Is Everything)"). All of the musical brilliance on display, though, is merely the framework for Hathaway's rich, emotive voice, testifying to the power of love and religion with few, if any, concessions to pop music. Like none other, he gets to the raw, churchy emotion underlying Ray Charles' "I Believe to My Soul" and Nina Simone's "To Be Young, Gifted and Black," the former with a call-and-response horn chart and his own glorious vocal, the latter with his own organ lines. "Thank You Master (For My Soul)" brings the Stax horns onto sanctified ground, while Hathaway praises God and sneaks in an excellent piano solo. Everything Is Everything was one of the first soul records to comment directly on an unstable period; "Tryin' Times" speaks to the importance of peace and community with an earthy groove, while the most familiar track here, a swinging jam known as "The Ghetto," places listeners right in the middle of urban America. Donny Hathaway's debut introduced a brilliant talent into the world of soul, one who promised to take R&B farther than it had been taken since Ray Charles debuted on Atlantic.

(by John Bush, All Music Guide)

This album was his best. It has a cerrtain innocence to it. Afterwards, he was a genius, but right then, he was justanother guy tryin'.

(Joel Dorn)

Although they were loosely affiliated with the British progressive rock scene of the late '60s and early '70s, Third Ear Band was in some ways more of an experimental ensemble performing contemporary compositional work. For one thing, they didn't use electric instruments, or even guitars, instead employing violin, viola, oboe, cello, and hand percussion. More important, they didn't play conventional rock"songs." They featured extended instrumental pieces that often built up from a drone, or hypnotic pattern, to a dense, raga-like crescendo, somewhat in the manner of some of Terry Riley's work. Their self-titled, second album is probably their definitive statement, consisting of four lengthy tracks devoted to the primary elements ("Air,""Earth,""Fire,""Water"). The feeling is one of improvised (though well-conceived) pieces that build up from initial drones to multi-layered ragas built around the same initial patterns. Their strong debts to both Indian music and contemporary experimental/minimalist compositions are evident. It's not accessible enough for the average rock (or even average progressive rock) listener. But it's certainly more geared toward the adventurous rock listener than the most challenging and/or difficult contemporary avant-garde music.

(Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide)

No band of the 1960s and 1970s achieved the degree of ethnic fusion that the Third Ear Band achieved on Alchemy (1969), one of the albums that invented world-music". An acoustic chamber ensemble of (essentially) tablas, oboe, viola and cello performed Indian, medieval, native American, gypsy, middle-eastern, minimalist, jazz, classical and folk music, all within the same song. The four suites on their second album, Third Ear Band (1970), pushed the idea even further: the ethnic sources are not recognizable anymore, and the music flows like a stream of consciousness, a spiritual experience, a daydream. De-contextualized, the "third ear" music is closer to Buddhism meditation than to western composition. The band was equally successful on Macbeth (1972), that added electric and electronic sounds to their ethnic stew.

(Scaruffi.com)