Kronomyth 9.0: GLADIATOR? NO DOUBT. It was a long way to the top for AC/DC. Before they began their descent, they rested at the plateau of perfection for one more album. For Those About To Rock We Salute You completes the royal triumvirate of AC/DC records produced by Mutt Lange. Recorded in France, Rock is immaculately produced and engineered, which is both its crowning achievement and its Achilles heel. Lange’s approach is different this time: the songs start with the spark of an idea and then quickly catch fire, building into a pyre of heavy metal majesty. The technique is best captured on songs like “For Those About To Rock” and “C.O.D.,” where the man called Mutt creates an almost Pavlovian anticipation of the power chords to come. Yet there is the sense that the thunder and lightning, which arrived so naturally in the past, is staged this time. If Lange seemed intent on cleaning up the band’s sound, Angus and the band certainly didn’t bother to clean up their act. Brian Johnson’s voice is absolutely brutal on this record and the lyrics (like the infamous album cover) offer only the barest pretense of innuendo: “Let’s Get It Up,” “Inject The Venom,” “I Put The Finger,” etc. Success, of course, tends to spoil a band. Sometimes, the change is overnight; other times, it’s more insidious. AC/DC’s saving grace over the years has been to stick to the same gameplan, and the success of For Those About To Rock is built on that solid foundation. It’s more polished than you might remember, and you’ll raise your lighter higher when a “You Shook Me All Night Long” rolls around, but you cannon argue with the fact that AC/DC had now become the black standard by which other rock bands would be measured.
AC/DC: For Those About To Rock We Salute You (1981)
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Kronomyth 7.1: MAKE LOVE, NOT WARM. Van Morrison albums had always contained one champion: a rousing number that stirred something deep in your soul and carried you along on its joyful wings. “Warm Love” is not that champion for Hard Nose The Highway. The song initially threatens to fall apart like a tissue-paper heart before it’s bolstered by a backing band and the supporting vocals of Jackie De Shannon. There is a delicate sweetness in the song, yes, but the danger of Morrison’s rich and ready genius is the temptation to knock off one hundred warm loves without stirring deeper waters. The flip side is “I Will Be There” from his last record, 
Kronomyth 8.0: HOT DOGS. Bark is the beautiful unraveling of Jefferson Airplane. Founding member Marty Balin had bailed, following the departed Spencer Dryden (who actually left during 
Kronomyth 4.0: OBLIVION AS THEY ROSE SHRANK LIKE A THING REPROVED. Forgery finds the Monks’ swamp music telegraphed into the early nineties alternative rock scene. It’s another dark and serious album; you wonder if David Lowery didn’t leave camp with the band’s sense of humor in his backpack. The Monks have plenty of good ideas (nicking XTC’s “Making Plans For Nigel” on “Flow” isn’t one of them), play their instruments with a sense of adventure (including an unexpected electric guitar tango) and Victor Krummenacher’s dour vocals do grow on you over time. In a move of unwarranted optimism, the songs “Flint Jack” and “Virtual Lover” even seem to have been floated as potential singles by IRS, the label (or someone) going so far as to make a music video for “Flint Jack.” This turned out to be the end of the road, however, with the Monks going into retirement for a while. Yes, it’s a shame that the band never garnered more attention, although their music was always stern and standoffish. Young people didn’t buy records to be lectured on them, and you get the sense on Forgery that Victor Krummenacher is delivering a series of short sermons on the evils and dangers of the world (the reference to the “Reverend Victor Krummenacher” seems to concede the point). As with all of the original Monks album, this is worth owning. I’ve listened to it dozens of times over the years and still find myself humming “Virtual Lover” on occasional, idle moments. For the future, I think the band would well served by a compilation as a way to ease 
The “alternative indie” bands of the eighties were an oasis in a dry wasteland of dance pop, hair metal and whatever Phil Collins was working on at the time. While MTV and mainstream radio were selling a message of Reagan-era prosperity and capitalist hedonism, the pirate radio broadcasts of Camper Van Beethoven, The Pixies, Flaming Lips et al were reveling in the surreality of the current zeitgeist. (I’m keeping that sentence just to remind me why I don’t like writing band biographies—i.e., because I suck at them.)
“The oppressed are allowed once every few years to decide which particular representatives of the oppressing class shall represent and repress them in parliament.” – V.I. Lenin
Kronomyth 2.0: ALL CHOKED UP. The Ballad of Todd Rundgren is a professionally produced pity party featuring piano ballads with minimal accompaniment (bass, drums) and multi-layered vocals, plus a few rock songs to shake things up. Where his last album, 
Kronomyth 5.5: FASTEST GUN IN THE WESS. The Prestige All-Star recordings tend to be hit or miss, since you can’t just throw a bunch of talented players together and expect sparks every time. Wheelin’ & Dealin’ is a miss: midtempo mid-50s jazz that never catches fire. The session is interesting for the attention it gives to Frank Wess, a prominent member of Count Basie’s Orchestra who splits his time here between flute and tenor sax while managing to outrun Trane in the bargain on the tenor sax shootout, “Wheelin’.” Coltrane isn’t exactly a no-show, but this isn’t among the top twenty Trane performances you need to hear. Paul Quinchette, the elder statesman, is simply outgunned. The session features only four tracks, including two presumably sketched out by Mal Waldron on the spot, “Wheelin’” and “Dealin.” Rudy Van Gelder recorded two different takes of each, and the alternate takes appeared on subsequent reissues. Waldron seems to be a mainstay of these Prestige recordings, here joined by Art Taylor on drums and Doug Watkins on bass. (The rhythm section of Waldron, Taylor and Watkins had also recorded with Coltrane for Prestige earlier in the year, and those recordings eventually turned up as Dakar.) Personally, I don’t go for Prestige’s approach of throwing multiple horn players into the mix and letting them duke it out; it’s a catfight, although I won’t argue that the competition can yield some interesting solos. Surprisingly, it’s Wess who comes out on top, both for his smooth sax soloing and soulful flute playing, the latter highlighted on “Robbins’ Nest” and the closing “Dealin’,” where Wess starts on flute and ends on tenor sax. While Quinchette and Coltrane fans can stay home for this one, Frank Wess fans should check this out at some point, since he shines here in some pretty impressive company.
“The first Stooges album I heard was the Funhouse album. I would have been about 19 at the time, and it was so instant and to the point and between the ears that it totally knocked me for six.” – Brian James, in a 
Kronomyth 5.01: WIZARDS AND DOGS. I’ve always heard “Pinball Wizard” as the climax of Tommy. It probably is, since I don’t think it’s supposed to be rocket science to find the climax. The song remains the most identifiable track from The Who’s greatest work; when the electric guitar comes crashing in on the left channel, I still get chills. I’m old. I believe the internal thermostat is one of the first things to go. According to Pete Townshend, the acoustic guitar on this song was inspired by Henry Purcell’s Fantasia Upon One Note (or, as Townshend refers to it, 
Kronomyth 7.0: TROPICALIFORNIA ROCK. Dave Mason continued to maintain a high profile despite his lack of a hit single. He graced the cover of Guitar Player Magazine (October 1975), rested comfortably in the US Top 40 with his new album (Split Coconut) and went out on tour with the latest version of the Dave Mason Band. The tropical album cover and two island-themed opening tracks are a tease, however; Split Coconut is simply a continuation of the music that Mason had been making all along. It’s a professional affair from beginning to end, with some updated keyboard sounds (courtesy of Mark Jordan and Jay Winding, in what appears to be a mid-session keyboard chair change) and an extra infusion of funk (“Split Coconut,” “Save Your Love”). If Mason seems to have settled into a groove as far as making solo records, longtime listeners will settle into the same groove soon enough. “Save Your Love,” “Two Guitar Lovers” (written by singer Maureen Gray, who had performed with 
“If we had intended to (symbolize Crosby with a horse), we would have turned the horse around.” – Roger McGuinn.
Kronomyth 4.0: THE ISLAND OF LOST SOLUS. This double album is, in reality, two separate sessions recorded in 1971 that were originally intended to be separate albums called Solus and The Inner Source. Long story short, the original music label (SABA) changed hands a couple of times, eventually ending up back in the hands of its original owner at a newly started label, MPS. Recorded with the standing George Duke Trio (John Heard, Dick Berk) plus some extra horns and percussion, the recordings align with Duke’s short tenure in the Cannonball Adderly band (as 
Kronomyth 8.0: TOWARD AURORA’S COURT A NYMPH DOTH DWELL, RICH IN ALL BEAUTIES. Aurora sets into motion Ponty’s revolving-door hiring policy with a new set of players featuring guitarist Daryl Stuermer (who was “discovered” by George Duke), bassist Tom Fowler (ex-Zappa) and drummer Norman Fearrington. As one of two albums to feature the brilliant Patrice Rushen on keyboards, this is prime-time Ponty. The violinist wastes little time showing off his new band, roaring out of the gates with the muscular fusion workout, “Is Once Enough?” Ponty then cleverly changes the pace for the warm, Pat Metheny-styled “Renaissance,” featuring Stuermer on acoustic guitar. This leads up to the stunning, two-part “Aurora” and the intoxicating “Passenger of the Dark.” Combining intricate arrangements with instantly gratifying melodies, “Aurora Part I” and “Passenger of the Dark” remain favorites of mine over a long career. “Lost Forest” unfolds beautifully like a 
Kronomyth 9.0: DISCO JOCKEY. This is as close as Stephen Stills has come to making a disco album, which is probably enough to seal its fate as an also-ran in his catalog. Yet behind the string arrangements, punchy rhythms and backing vocals (which feature the up-and-coming Andy Gibb) is the usual strong songwriting from Stephen. In fact, I might give Thoroughfare Gap the nod over his other Columbia records, which is as good as a wink to a blind horse. “Can’t Get No Booty” is the funniest song Stills has ever recorded (okay, so it’s a short list) and should have been a hit, especially given the success Joe Walsh was having with “Life’s Been Good.” On most of the record, Stills strikes a good balance between high-gloss production and guitar-driven rock (e.g., “What’s The Game,” “Lowdown”). He mixes it up with the usual polyglot pop (“Woman Lleva,” “Beaucoup Yumbo”), adds a nice acoustic number (“Thoroughfare Gap”) and even includes a couple (admittedly inferior) covers, “Midnight Rider” and “Not Fade Away.” Honestly, I didn’t expect much after the last few Stills albums, and the picture of him in a jockey’s uniform (a look that no one, not even Prince, could pull off) didn’t bode well. I was pleasantly surprised, then, to find that the music on Thoroughfare Gap wasn’t a case of Stills trying to work outside of his idiom, but rather to adapt his idiom to contemporary influences. Unfortunately, Columbia didn’t pick up his contract and Stills went silent during his pending divorce, resurfacing several years latter under the protective glyph of CSN.