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These days, rock fans around the world expect a certain level of discographic homogeneity from their stars. U2 might release different EPs, singles and even greatest-hits packages in various countries around the globe, but in when it comes to indentifying their primary releases (The Joshua Tree, War, All That You Can't Leave Behind, et al.) just about everybody in the world is in agreement.

This wasn't always the case. Before the 1970s, it was quite common for the discographies of rock stars to differ from nation to nation, market to market. Hardcore record collectors specializing in Beatles and Rolling Stones memorabilia know this all too well. Many of the groups' most iconic albums underwent radical alterations when making the trip from the United Kingdom to the States. This was due to crass commercialism, quite honestly. London Records, The Stones' American label, wanted to saturate the American market with as much product as possible. Thus, they made a habit of removing songs from albums (released in England on the Decca label originally) and coupling them with single-only tracks in order to produce even more albums to hawk. (Interesting aside: back in the day the British record-buying public thought it bad form to include singles on albums, as well as to pull singles from albums. They were seen as independent media.)

Between 1964 and '69, The Stones released eight albums, two greatest-hits collections and a pair of EPs in the U.K. Here in the United States, the numbers were 10 albums, two greatest-hits collections, a live record and a full-length, 1967's Flowers, that fell somewhere between album and compilation. As a result, old-school American fans have fond memories of titles the Brits didn't even know existed: England's Newest Hit Makers, The Rolling Stones, Now!, December's Children (And Everybody's) and, of course, the aforementioned Flowers.

I'm of the belief the original British versions are the better records. First off, London Records forced us Yanks to purchase a lot of music twice. The American Out of Our Heads consists of 12 tracks, four of which were also released via the 45 format: "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction," "The Under Assistant West Coast Promotion Man," "Play with Fire" and "The Last Time." That means we paid full album price for just eight new songs. Then there's the issue of artistic quality. This becomes quite evident when comparing the U.S. versions of Aftermath and Between the Buttons to their U.K. counterparts. The latter are so much more cohesive and fully realized that they're practically different records. Between the Buttons in particular is an interesting case; because London Records gutted the thing, American rock critics failed to embrace it quite like the British pop press did; different versions spawned different legacies.

Happy holidaze, people! The Crate Digger here. To inject a little Christmas cheer into your lives, I compiled a list of 10 rockers who totally resemble Santa Claus, from Billy Gibbons and Rick Rubin to Edgar Winter and Mick Fleetwood. I also included several younger rocker dudes who are definitely little Kris Kringles in the making (if they decide to keep their beards in the coming decades).

One more thing: I sprinkled in a little history here and there regarding the evolution of the mythology of Santa. This stuff will make great dinner conversation with your stupid in-laws.

Be sure to also check out my playlist: Ten Rockers Who Totally Resemble Santa Claus

1. Billy Gibbons
Other classic rockers might look more like Sinterklaas, but let's face it, none are cooler than the St. Nicholas of Tejas, Mr. Billy Gibbons. Instead of a sled and reindeer, the ZZ Top legend uses the Eliminator car to deliver gifts around the world. Rather than elves, his helpers are scantily clad babes who use lots of hairspray. By the way, did you know that in certain regions of Mexico, children tie their letters to Santa to helium balloons, which they release into the sky in hopes they'll float to the North Pole ... or Billy's house?

Stocking Stuffer: ZZ Top, Tres Hombres

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Hopefully, the release of the five-disc Smile Sessions box set lays to rest the "pop masterpiece that never was" mythology that has sprouted up over the last five decades, gradually wrapping itself around these profoundly misunderstood recordings like impenetrable kudzu. I say "misunderstood" because I've long held the belief that Smile is a far more radical statement as a mishmash of demos, snippets and fragments than it would've been had Brian Wilson, Van Dyke Parks and the rest of The Beach Boys completed the album in 1967.

What has always struck me about this music (I purchased the bootleg version many years ago) is how its logic and structure predict the evolution of electronica, ambient pop and myriad other forms of electronic-based modern music. This is most evident on Discs 1 and 3. Though Wilson and Parks are working with live musicians (The Beach Boys' sublime voices married to the Wrecking Crew's uncanny precision), that sound is configured into clusters, lattices, pixels and fractals. Not unlike basic sampling technology, these building blocks are then used and re-used to erect polymer-like formations. Indeed, a piece such as "Do You Like Worms (Roll Plymouth Rock)," found on Disc 1, contains an astonishing amount of repetition and layering of a decidedly vertical nature. It's a sonic collage, one with extremely well-etched geometry. When it came to studio experimentation, very few artists at the time were as prophetic as Wilson and Parks; electronic composer Karlheinz Stockhausen and Miles Davis producer Teo Macero are the first that come to mind.

But where did these novel structures come from? In terms of artistic creation, Wilson and Parks were operating on an elevated plain. They are geniuses, obviously. But I'm quite certain psychedelic experimentation — which both have opened up about in interviews over the years — aided in this process. The fundamental effect of lysergic acid diethylamide is to give human perception the ability to "see" past the structures comprising everyday reality and to envision new ways of rebuilding them. In the case of Wilson and Parks, this entailed utilizing the studio to take apart the traditional pop song and reconstruct it from the bottom up. Only problem is, they hit a wall: they were incapable of piecing together these wonderful fragments into a full album.

An annual celebration of the legacy of synthesizer inventor and engineer Robert Moog, Moogfest might seem like an odd place for a classic rock fan to search for the rawk. But I have my reasons.

Like an aging empire suffering perpetual turf wars, rock's boundaries have shrunk inexorably since the 1970s. Back in the day, rock was huge. It could claim both the acoustic and the electronic, the funky and the avant garde, everything from Captain Beefheart and Tangerine Dream to Lou Reed and ZZ Top to Funkadelic and Mahavishnu Orchestra. Then there was all the fringe stuff; even the mildly curious rock fan could wind up purchasing a copy of Terry Riley's A Rainbow in Curved Air or John Coltrane's A Love Supreme or Miles Davis' Bitches Brew, because he (or she) had read about it in Rolling Stone or Creem.

But those days are long gone. In 2011, rock incorporates little beyond the post-grunge diaspora, jam band shenanigans, senior citizens from the 1960s and '70s, stoner-rock revivalism, some Americana stuff and Wilco. Anything somewhat experimental or strange is almost always tagged indie, alternative, electronic, etc. Here's a perfect example: not too long ago, I had a colleague argue that Radiohead, as captured on their latest album The King of Limbs, is no longer a rock band. I thought to myself, "If Pink Floyd's Ummagumma, which is a million times more radical and form-challenging, can belong to the rock canon, then surely the genre is capable of claiming Thom Yorke's tepid dabblings in electronic sounds." After all, was it not rock music itself that helped spearhead the electronic revolution in the early 1970s, when all those insane prog dudes started tinkering with synthesizers?

This new Pink Floyd reissue bug bit me hard. Nearly every record between The Piper at the Gates of Dawn and The Wall has been in heavy rotation for days now. Last weekend I even drove to Barnes & Noble (Meddle served as my in-car soundtrack), and spent time in the café reading the Mojo and Rolling Stone cover stories.

Both pieces focus on The Dark Side of the Moon years. You know, the usual stuff: the making of that 1973 rock landmark, the sudden deluge of fame, the legendary artistic battles between Roger Waters and David Gilmour, etc. The articles' authors, Mojo contributing writer Mark Blake and Rolling Stone senior writer Brian Hiatt, do drop some serious history. But what nags me about their respective stories is how they more or less toe the party line with regards to the established critical perspective of the post-Syd Barrett/pre-Dark Side era that stretches from 1969’s More to 1972’s Obscured by Clouds.

That time was, as the story goes, full of strife, turmoil and transition, not to mention interesting (if deeply flawed) music. Hiatt describes this period as "freewheeling to a fault"; he even outright disses "Sysyphus 1-4," keyboardist Richard Wright's magnificent contribution to the 1969 double-LP Ummagumma, as "Spinal Tap-worthy." These historical views can be traced back to the band members themselves. Outside of "Echoes," probably the most Dark Side-like piece from the time in question, Waters and Gilmour tend to dismiss this music as basically ... meh.

When classic rock nerds such as myself start debating the 10 greatest power trios of all time, the usual suspects emerge: The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream, Rush, Blue Cheer and ZZ Top. Great bands, all of them. But I can think of others I enjoy just as much, like Budgie; Grand Funk Railroad; Motörhead; Speed, Glue & Shinki; Mountain; and the mighty James Gang.

The reason why the James Gang, one of the greatest rock bands to ever come out of Cleveland, don't receive more props might have to with the group's lack of artistic and commercial consistency. Their first incarnation -- spanning 1967 to '68, with obscure six-string genius and Christian psych-rocker Glen Schwartz leading the way -- didn't even release any music. At the other end of the band's career, after their most famous guitarist, Joe Walsh, departed in 1971, the band burned through several shredders-for-hire, including Tommy Bolin, while releasing a string of flawed albums, each one boasting two or three cool tracks surrounded by a whole lotta filler. This means the James Gang's golden period is quite brief: just four albums over three years.

Why is the Crate Digger going Queen crazy, you ask? Well, in celebration of the band's 40th anniversary, Hollywood Records has just dropped expanded reissues of the band's first five albums: Queen, Queen II, Sheer Heart Attack, A Night at the Opera and A Day at the Races. Now is as good a time as any to unload my top 10 all-time favorite Queen albums. But before diving in, I'd like to touch on a few realizations/reminders I experienced while putting together my list. To begin with, the band's good-to-bad album ratio is staggering. In my opinion, they didn't release a mediocre full-length until 1986's A Kind of Magic, and even it contains a few killer tunes (title track, "Who Wants to Live Forever"). Think about it: that's 13 years and 10 records after their self-titled debut.

Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives.

Classic rock lost a top-shelf shredder when a heart attack claimed the life of Gary Moore on February 6. The Irish fret wizard never had the caché of Slowhand or Jimmy Page, but he made some vital contributions to hard rock, particularly in the 1976-to-1986 zone.

Moore's greatest claim to fame is the time he served in Thin Lizzy, one of the Crate Digger's top five best hard-rock bands of the 1970s.* Logging time with the band on no less than three separate occasions, he actually didn't record all that much with them, though he can be heard on 1979's Black Rose: A Rock Legend, Thin Lizzy's last truly classic album. In fact, Moore just might be the main reason why the record succeeded; Thin Lizzy, by the end of the decade, was falling apart. As with so many rock bands, hardcore drug abuse was the chief culprit. The guitarist, who had known Phil Lynott since their days in the Dublin-based band Skid Row in the late 1960s, stepped in and helped realize his old friend's vision. In fact, the record has Moore's fingerprints all over it, particularly in terms of its wild stylistic variety. If you want to hear rock guitar at its most sublime and brilliant, head straight to "Roisin Dubh (Black Rose): A Rock Legend," an epic suite made of radical reworkings of four traditional Irish folk ballads. Moore's melodic runs soar like seagulls high above the jagged Irish coast.

Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives.

The first time a friend exposed me to Little Feat I didn't get it. A lazy Sunday afternoon in the fall of 2000: I'm sharing a six pack with a couple pals, Mike McGuirk and Will York, both of whom write for Rhapsody. Mike and I hog the stereo for about an hour, cranking highlights from the Stones' mid-'70s studio albums: Goats Head Soup, It's Only Rock & Roll and Black and Blue. By the time Mike requests "Memory Motel," one of the group's most sickly sentimental ballads, Will is squirming about his chair. Though he loves the Stones, he's not a fan of the era. He can't wrap his head around the fact that Mike and I actually enjoy all the sappy soft-rock emanating from the speakers.

After a while Will seizes the stereo, slipping on Little Feat, the group's debut album from 1971. Mike and I have never heard the thing. And if these two jokers like mid -'70s Stones, Will reasons, they'll totally fall for the Feats' blend of boogie, funk and country-rock. Well, we don't. Not only that, we ridicule the record the entire time it's on. Will gets all pissy, and for good reason: Little Feat is AWESOME, and Mike and I simply aren't prepared for that AWESOMENESS.

There's a new Hendrix boxed set out, which means it's time for the Classic Rock Crate Digger to once again talk "Jimi."

West Coast Seattle Boy: The Jimi Hendrix Anthology is going to have its critics, just as nearly every other posthumous Hendrix release going all the way back to 1971's The Cry of Love has had its critics. The controversies swirling about the release of an artist's unreleased music are many and will never die; as Paul McCartney once said, the music went unreleased for a reason. But more specific to Hendrix's situation is the nagging issue of fans craving just one more classic album to sink their teeth into. This is something I addressed in my last column on Hendrix, a review of Valleys of Neptune, a collection that Sony Legacy dropped earlier this year. With each new archival compilation, the guitarist's legions of near-fanatical followers desperately hope to hear something on par with Electric Ladyland and Are You Experienced? And each and every time, they're disappointed — intensely so.

Listen. The Hendrix vault contains no lost gems, no landmark recordings that somehow went unreleased back in the day. What it does contain are shelf after shelf of good to great demos, outtakes, half-finished ideas, live tapes and alternate recordings.

This is where West Coast Seattle Boy excels. An exercise in curation, the sprawling four-disc anthology is the first attempt to create a well-crafted narrative, detailing Hendrix's radical evolution from mid-1960s R&B session guitarist to acid-rock icon to post-psychedelic composer exploring jazz, rock, funk and classical. The fact that it uses nothing save archival material is really kind of gutsy, and sublimely enlightening. From beginning to end, you hear pure growth and change; not only that, you experience them via Jimi's most unguarded moments, when he's simply working out the sounds in his head.

Plowing through this monster is a daunting task for sure. Because of this, I've compiled 10 tracks that sum up the epic story unfolding over the course of West Coast Seattle Boy.

Love 'em or hate 'em, there's no denying the mega-impact of the greatest-hits package on classic rock. Let's face it: for the overwhelming majority of us, our first Steve Miller album wasn't The Joker or Book of Dreams or even Fly Like an Eagle (and it sure as hell wasn't 1968's Children of the Future!); it was that record with the metallic-blue horse on the cover — Greatest Hits 1974-'78. Between my freshman and senior years in high school, I burned through two cassettes of that thing. I memorized every lick, every hook, every riff. Greatest Hits 1974-'78 — which has sold, according to the RIAA, in excess of 13 million copies and counting — has done more than simply move units; it has defined Steve Miller's legacy. A musician whose career spans five decades, covering everything from experimental acid-rock to blues revivalism, is for a lot of us most commonly associated with just 14 measly tracks, every one of them released over a five-year span. Amazing!

When compiling my list of the All-Time Greatest Greatest Hits, I was looking for titles similar to Miller's Greatest Hits 1974-'78. In other words, records that not only sold a buttload of copies, but also became truly iconic releases in their own right.

In the process, I discovered a delicious little irony. Most of the greatest-hits albums below were eventually superseded by far superior collections, anthologies or collections. The more recent Essential Journey, for example, is a way more thorough overview of the band's oeuvre than 1988's Greatest Hits. And yet it's the latter title that fans, both new and old, keep returning to.

With all that said, it's now time for the All-Time Greatest Greatest Hits.

Fellow Rhapsody scribe Chuck Eddy recently charted the roots of shock/horror rock. My aim is to pick up where he left off — with Alice Cooper in the 1970s — and deliver the genre to the 21st century.

After Cooper's transformation into a pop icon, right around 1972 or '73, somewhere between the release of the albums School's Out and Billion Dollar Babies, shock rock became deeply intertwined with heavy metal. Though punk bands like The Plasmatics, The Sex Pistols and The Misfits employed shock-like tactics in both their stage performances and headline-grabbing media shenanigans, it was bands such as KISS, and in the 1980s Venom, King Diamond/Mercyful Fate and W.A.S.P., that truly embodied the genre's core aesthetic: overblown theatrical absurdity. Venom in particular played a vital role. By filtering this theatricality through Satanic imagery and a sonic assault that made Judas Priest and Iron Maiden sound like Judy Garland and Bing Crosby, respectively, the gnarly British trio laid the groundwork for black metal, one of two genres to help carry shock rock into our current era. The other is industrial. Closely tied to metal since the late 1980s, industrial and its obsession with dystopian nightmares, genocide and such modern-day bogeymen as serial killers and dictators offered shock rockers like the Alice Cooper-inspired White Zombie, Marilyn Manson and, of course, the infamous GWAR a whole new spectrum of themes to explore when attempting to freak out pop audiences.

Sonically speaking, modern shock rockers like GWAR and black-metal weirdos Immortal have very little in common with creepy ancestors such as rhythm-and-blues legend Screamin' Jay Hawkins, who would rise from a coffin during performances in the mid-1950s. Yet there can be no doubt that all these artists are united in their love of producing twisted theater.

To taste a healthy sampling of modern shock rock, check out the expanded playlist here.

Following are 10 albums that encapsulate shock/horror rock's creepy evolution from the 1970s to now. Explore them at your own peril ...

A fan of classic rock? Then your music collection probably contains several titles released by Elektra Records, which is celebrating its 60th anniversary this year.

Founded in 1960 by Jac Holzman and Paul Rickholt, Elektra became a major player in the folk and blues revival. A maverick businessmen and unbelievably prescient talent scout, Holzman in the mid-1960s turned the label into a home for some of America's most adventurous (and volatile) underground artists, including The Doors, The Stooges, The MC5, Tim Buckley and Love. After merging with Warner Communications in 1970, Elektra grew into a massive hit-making machine, helping define both the singer-songwriter movement and arena rock in the process. After the rise of punk and New Wave, Elektra's fortunes rose and fell with the times; nevertheless, the imprint released vital records in both genres, as well as alternative rock and heavy metal.

Let's face it. The great classic rockers of yore — those who survived, that is — aren't getting any younger. In fact, most of them are downright old. And old looking: gray locks, wrinkles, sags, the whole nine yards. Sadly, the rallying cry "Hope I die before I get old" has been replaced with "Hope this fiber really does keep my colon healthy."

But as you're about to find out, just because your hero is old doesn't mean he, or she, can't make meaningful rock music. Then again, as you're also about to find out, sometimes it does.

Because so many classic rockers have released new albums as of late, Rhapsody's Classic Rock Crate Digger decided it's a perfect time to play doctor and administer a few check-ups.

Here's what he discovered.

Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives.

A column exploring classic rock's long-lost and overlooked might seem like an odd forum for a Krautrock primer, but a little historical excavation proves otherwise. Nowadays, most music critics and historians consider Krautrock, a tag used to describe Germany's experimental rock scene in the 1970s, to be an "alternative" genre, an eccentric forefather of punk, post-punk, industrial and electronica. That's all true. However, when record stores in the United States and the U.K. first started importing albums from Can, Faust, Tangerine Dream and so on in the early 1970s, these bands were often tagged "progressive rock," right alongside heavies like Yes, King Crimson, The Soft Machine and Van Der Graaf Generator. This isn't to say progressive rock and Krautrock are synonymous, but back in the day, their respective fan bases often possessed considerable overlap.

Considering prog is well within the Crate Digger's wheelhouse, then it's high time I spotlighted 11 of my all-time favorite Krautrock albums.

I mean, hey, we all have to take a break from Thin Lizzy every now and then!

As you may have noticed, Team Rhapsody converged upon the Henry Maier Festival Park in Milwaukee last weekend for Summerfest 2010. Now, it's possible that we've been hiding under a rock, but it came as surprise to us that Summerfest is in fact, the largest music festival in the world, and we were curious to know if we were the only ones in the dark. Armed with a wikipedia printout and and a cheatsheet of Summerfest trivia, Rhapsody's Justin Farrar hit the pavement to talk to festival goers like Gene (pictured above in the most awesome outfit ever!) and artists like O.A.R, Puddle of Mudd, The Devil Wears Prada and more to find out what they knew about the history of "The Big Gig". Video Q&A: John Hiatt By Lauren Tabak July 6, 2010 10:02 AM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Rhapsody had the pleasure of interviewing Americana heavyweight John Hiatt at this year's Summerfest in Milwaukee, WI. Watch the video above to hear John talk about songwriting, his next upcoming release and getting prank calls from Eric Clapton. Summerfest Day Three: Classic Rock Crate Digger By Justin Farrar July 3, 2010 7:42 AM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Ah, day three of Team Rhapsody's intrepid sojourn into the bowls of Summerfest, the largest music festival in our wondrous solar system. This is our final stand -- the last hurrah. Friday is the busiest day yet, no question about it. A ton of patriotic Americans, more than primed for the three-day weekend, have obviously ditched the 9-to-5 slave trade in favor of wandering Henry Maier Festival Park for the next 10 hours. As our routine now dictated, we kicked-off our early afternoon schedule with an interview: Christian metalcore missionaries The Devil Wears Prada, who headlined the CoolTV Rock Stage. Fun stuff for sure -- they're young and sassy and talkative. Hold on a second; did I mention young? The band and just about everyone in their entourage looked as if they required permission slips from their parents to tour the country without a chaperone watching their every move. By the way, if any TDWP fans are reading this, lookout for a special EP release in the very near future. Hopefully, we'll be adding it to Rhapsody's catalog as soon as it comes out. While chatting about Mike Hranica's now-defunct grind project xGUMBYx, I heard a low, ominous grumble. I initially assumed it was Hranica shifting into his cookie-monster growl, some kind of pre-show ritual, possibly. But it was actually my stomach. A massive VACANCY sign was plastered across it. After parting ways with Hranica and his vocal foil Jeremy DePoyster around 2:30, I scoured the festival grounds for the ultimate in Summerfest cuisine, which is basically [insert food] dipped in fried grease. The Crate Digger's poor, little tummy wasn't totally prepared for this; despite my love of the heavy jams and hard rock, I'm an organic-loving wussy when it comes to food. (Yes, this means I often crank Thin Lizzy's Fighting album while sipping a warm cup of green tea.) Nevertheless, I felt a weird compulsion to do a Charles Kuralt-inspired "slice of American life" tour of the concession stands in order to discover what unique culinary treats the fine people of Milwaukee enjoy devouring. So, without further ado, here are three dishes that totally scream SUMMERFEST! Continue reading Summerfest Day Three: Classic Rock Crate Digger. Summerfest Day Two: Classic Rock Crate Digger By Justin Farrar July 1, 2010 11:18 PM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Thursday started off in spectacular fashion, if I do say so myself: blazing yellow sun, clear blue skies and talking Thin Lizzy with Craig Finn, whose band The Hold Steady was running through a morning soundcheck at the U.S. Cellular Connection Stage in preparation of their 10 p.m. performance. Actually, during our interview we talked about several bands near and dear to our classic-rock loving, uh, butts, including early Scorpions and the mighty UFO. But we really dug into Thin Lizzy. I told Finn -- who is a super-swell dude, as well as a top-shelf record nerd -- that I thought too many rock critics mention Springsteen when attempting to parse his influences. It's true. You can't read a review or feature that doesn't contain a reference to The Boss and how his street-rock storytelling helped shape Finn's own rock-and-roll poetics. Springsteen is definitely a defining force, but I also hear a strong Phil Lynott influence. In fact, on the new album, Heaven is Whenever, the tune "Rock Problems" contains a few key tricks (especially the twin-like guitar lines) clearly inspired by Thin Lizzy. Finn wholeheartedly agreed and was pretty stoked to be talking about one of his favorite bands. I got the feeling that he wishes more writers would cite the great Phil Lynott. Continue reading Summerfest Day Two: Classic Rock Crate Digger. Video Q&A: Craig Finn - The Hold Steady By Lauren Tabak July 1, 2010 2:41 PM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Craig Finn of The Hold Steady was kind, and boss, enough to take some time after a morning soundcheck at the U.S. Cellular Connection Stage to chat with fellow music nerd Justin Farrar (a.k.a. Rhapsody's The Classic Rock Crate Digger). Watch the video above to hear Craig's thoughts on Summerfest, The Brewers, reggae music, the genius of Thin Lizzy's Phil Lynott and more. Summerfest Day One: Classic Rock Crate Digger By Justin Farrar July 1, 2010 1:13 AM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Sclemeel, Schlemazel, Hasenfeffer Incorporated. We’re gonna do it, people: the Classic Rock Crate Digger, along with the rest of Team Rhapsody, is here in Milwaukee attending the all mighty Summerfest. Now, there might be music festivals out there with more hipster cache or street cred as they say, but none are bigger, or longer, than the “Big Gig,” as it has come to be known through the decades. Summerfest is, according to the Guinness World Records, the largest music festival in the world. Each and every year hundreds of thousands of ready-to-party-hard concert-goers pass through the gates of Henry Maier Festival Park (a 75-acre spread tucked in between downtown Milwaukee and Lake Michigan) to catch a who’s who in rock, pop, hip-hop, R&B, country, comedy, folk and more. Surrounding the festival’s 11 stages is what amounts to a sizeable carnival: a gazillion food vendors, copious amounts of beer, family fun stuff, a market where trinkets are sold and an actual Skyglider that runs the length of the park. So yeah, this sucker is no joke. Continue reading Summerfest Day One: Classic Rock Crate Digger. Classic Rock Crate Digger: 10 Essential Proto-Metal Albums By Justin Farrar June 22, 2010 6:00 AM 4 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. List the innovators of early heavy metal, and two bands sit at the top: Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. They are the groups most responsible for taking late-'60s hard rock — itself a bombastic mixture of blues, psychedelia, boogie and prog — and turning it into something wholly unique, a heavy music that rocked hard yet wasn't really rock 'n' roll anymore. Though we are forever in their debt, they weren't the only bands during those heady days forging the new genre. They had plenty of help from the likes of Vanilla Fudge, Uriah Heep, Blue Cheer, the great Deep Purple and more. Much like Zeppelin and Sabbath, many of these groups can be considered both hard rock and heavy metal. Even groups such as Judas Priest, whose first record came out in 1974, started off exploring a decidedly progressive sound that was way more beard 'n' denim than hell-bent for leather. If vintage proto-metal is your thing, then here are 10 essential albums that will blow your doors clear off. This isn't a comprehensive list, mind you, but it does contain some seriously killer jams. Dig in! Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: 10 Essential Proto-Metal Albums. The 10 Best (Longhaired) Power-Pop Albums of the 1970s By Justin Farrar June 15, 2010 4:10 PM 9 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. Ever since the rise of new wave in the late 1970s and early 80s power pop has been closely linked to bands with punky energy who sound like refugees from the British Invasion. More often than not, they're wearing skinny ties and matching suits. Yet before Squeeze, The Knack and The Cars invaded the Billboard, power pop also possessed ties to the classic-rock longhairs whom new wave ultimately supplanted. The Crate Digger is talking about everybody from Electric Light Orchestra to Todd Rundgren to Sweet. In fact, rock critics were using the phrase as early as 1973. In this sense, power pop is less a strictly defined genre and more a loose set of stylistic touchstones -- jangly guitars, crunchy Who-inspired riffage, tight harmonies and catchy hooks with a distinctly English feel - that through the years has been fused to myriad subgenres: classic rock, punk, new wave, art rock, country rock, glam, roots rock, blue-eyed soul and so on. Continue reading The 10 Best (Longhaired) Power-Pop Albums of the 1970s. Classic Rock Crate Digger: Don't Sweat The Panic By Justin Farrar June 7, 2010 2:34 PM 2 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. And if you want, listen to all the classic rock and jam bands you want with your Rhapsody subscription. If you don't have one, click here to sign up for a free trial and see what we're all about. The Crate Digger never passes up a chance to ruminate on the music loves of his youth. Seventeen-year-old me, as I've written before, maintained torrid affairs with both grunge and the British Invasion. But I'd be denying history if I didn't admit to a brief tryst with the neo-hippie jam-band scene as well. Not very sexy, I know. But the first H.O.R.D.E. (Horizons of Rock Developing Everywhere) tour, which I caught at the New York State Fairgrounds' Miller Court in the summer of 1992, was one of the great concert experiences of my high school years. It was wild, I tell you. Noodling jams went from early afternoon to the dead of night, while "hordes" of young, hairy freakers and their cute granola mamas hawked fanny packs, vegan enchiladas, homemade candles, hardcore psychedelics and exotic textiles in the parking lot. H.O.R.D.E. went down before the Spin Doctors, Blues Traveler and Phish went platinum, and in the process, transformed the neo-hippie scene into a pop-culture commodity (one that somehow morphed into Dave Matthews and John Mayer years later — go figure). It still possessed, believe it or not, a kind of regional flavor. Most of the bands called New England or the Mid-Atlantic states home. The crowd, for the most part, consisted of earthy college brats from the SUNY system or straight-up beardo dropouts from Vermont, western Massachusetts' Berkshires, the Catskills/Woodstock, the Adirondacks or, of course, the global hub for white dudes who dig dashikis: Ithaca, N.Y. By the time I entered college in the fall of '93, little over a year after that wondrous if rather hazy day, the jam-band scene was a skeleton stuffed in the closet behind that pair of Zubaz I wore when I was 14. At some point in the intervening 12 months, probably not long after I bought my first Superchunk record, I woke up and realized extended funk-rock and quirky pop full of slap bass and reggae "riddims" wasn't for me. In fact, I violently rejected the entire scene. There was but a single exception, however: Widespread Panic. Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: Don't Sweat The Panic. Classic Rock Crate Digger: The Return of the Yardbirds' Catalog By Justin Farrar May 10, 2010 11:23 AM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. And if you want to listen to all this music anytime, anywhere, you'll want to have a Rhapsody subscription. Sign up for a free trial to see what we're all about. Since the Crate Digger is a hopelessly incorrigible music addict, some of my fondest childhood memories are of the hunting-down-the-jams variety. My first bona fide obsession, that thing called the British Invasion, hit me in the sixth grade. I can't recall particulars, but my conversion into an Anglophile feels like it happened overnight. I think it was a byproduct of writing a paper on The Beatles in Mrs. Pennock's music class that year. She was a little nerdy but really quite cool when I look back. She dug The Beach Boys and bought me ice cream after school once. I was all about collecting cassettes back then. Of course, my interest in the British Invasion began with its first-tier bands: the Fab Four, the Stones, The Who and The Kinks. Seeing as how they’re all platinum-clad rock legends of the highest order, their respective discographies were more or less easy to track down.* Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: The Return of the Yardbirds' Catalog. Classic Rock Crate Digger: A Few Thoughts on This New Runaways Flick By Justin Farrar May 4, 2010 10:39 PM 2 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. So, this new Runaways flick. The Crate Digger recently saw it and had a swell time. To begin with, I got to see it at a small, art-house cinema that offers a top-shelf selection of American craft beers. Sipping finely brewed suds while listening to “Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch Cherry Bomb” at top volume was a small but unforgettable slice of heaven. Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: A Few Thoughts on This New Runaways Flick. Classic Rock Crate Digger: The Doors and Their Disciples By Justin Farrar April 22, 2010 6:16 AM 8 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks The Crate Digger has defended The Doors more times than he'd care to count! What a divisive band. Their most violent detractors, the ones who would rather dive naked onto a rusty garden weasel than hear "Touch Me" one more time, are almost always children of punk and hardcore. In The Doors, they see everything they were brainwashed to hate about mainstream rock between 1968 and '76, the era when dirty hippie jams devolved into fatty arena rock. I've always found their venom terribly ironic. The Doors are a foundation of classic rock, it's true. Morrison is the template for the longhaired frontman with sexy mojo (see also Robert Plant, Paul Rodgers, Burt Cummings, etc). Yet for every punk who hates The Doors, there are two who worship them. The group's most profound influence, believe it or not, is to be found not in classic rock, but in the world of modern alternative music (punk, post-punk, New Wave, synth pop, goth, space rock), where bands moved far beyond merely imitating Morrison and actually listened to what the bad was doing musically. I know certain folks are going to find this assertion hard to swallow, yet Lester Bangs acknowledged as much when he described Jim Morrison as a "father of New Wave" in his 1981 essay "Jim Morrison: Bozo Dionysus a Decade Later." In this sense The Doors shared more in common with The Velvet Underground than anybody who played Woodstock. While they certainly belonged to the 1960s zeitgeist, both groups also explored ideas, sounds and themes that reached far beyond it. Here I've compiled 13 killer albums that attest to the Doors' impact on rock 'n' roll's outer fringes. Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: The Doors and Their Disciples. Classic Rock Crate Digger: Get Your Grunge Out of My Hair Metal By Justin Farrar April 20, 2010 9:47 AM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. Dave Grohl's cameo on Slash's new album has the Crate Digger reminiscing about the hair metal/grunge culture war of the early 1990s. Despite the fact that I mainly focus on rock 'n' roll from the 1960s and '70s, I was one of those pimply teens whose life changed radically after exposure to the "Alive" and "Smells Like Teen Spirit" videos. I quickly tossed my Skyscraper tour shirt in the trash and purchased an entire closet full of used flannel. An awakening of epic proportions was clearly underway. All across America lines were drawn in the sand, as other pimply teens were asked to choose sides: Seattle dirty or L.A. cokehead? The war's pinnacle came with Axl and Kurt's infamous backstage dust-up at the 1992 MTV Video Music Awards. For us, this wasn't some trivial rock-star silliness, but a major victory for "alternative" over "mainstream." Looking back, it's all rather silly, right? Pop fads, rock 'n' roll, youth rebellion … it's all part of the record industry's scheme. Throughout 1989 and '90, as hair-metal traded sleazy rock for frosted power ballads, its record sales began to sag. Newbies like Steelheart, Warrant and Trixter sounded tame compared to vintage Ratt, Hanoi Rocks and The Crüe. The kids were in desperate need of something new. As a result, the very labels that helped make stars of these hair-sprayed wild men were now killing them off in one of the record industry's great coups. Though grunge's rise within the world of alternative music was a genuinely organic development, it was impresarios like David Geffen (whose label released records by both Nirvana and Guns N' Roses) who helped make it a pop phenomenon. Nowadays, I live without allegiance. I appreciate the cream of both, as each one made vital contributions to my childhood soundtrack. Too Fast For Love and Appetite for Destruction are just as important to me as Ten and Dirt. It's all killer hard rock in the end. This is why Grohl can jam with Slash: both musicians understand that beneath pop trends they have always shared more than a few commonalities. In honor of Slash and Grohl's recent collaboration, here are 17 other reasons why hair metal and grunge weren't nearly as adversarial as we initially believed. By the way, if you find yourself wanting to listen to all the music I freak out about week in and week out, then simply use your Rhapsody subscription! Don't have one? Click here to sign up for a free trial and see what we're all about. Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: Get Your Grunge Out of My Hair Metal. Classic Rock Crate Digger: Traversing the Valleys of Neptune By Justin Farrar March 8, 2010 6:30 AM 2 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Rhapsody commemorates the historic release of Jimi Hendrix's unearthed album, Valley of Neptune, with an extensive in-depth analysis of the album. Be sure to scroll down to the bottom to check out a sampling of the music. And, of course, if you're a member, you can listen to this album or any other by Hendrix as much as you want, anywhere you like. Not a member? Sign up for your free trial today! It's 2010. The great Jimi Hendrix has been dead 40 years. This, of course, means fans are about to get pelted with a barrage of anniversary-related merchandising, everything from video games to DVDs to hot fashions for teens new to the heavy sounds of Are You Experienced? We should also expect a new wave of music. This will include both archival releases and deluxe reissues of the classics. First up is Valleys of Neptune, a collection of demos, outtakes and rehearsal recordings committed to tape in 1969 and '70. When reviewing any album, the primary question a rock critic must answer is this: should you, the fan, spend your hard-earned money and time on the thing? It's a question that becomes even more important when dealing with archival releases featuring previously unreleased material. Too often these types of albums are filled with recordings that were not released for a very good reason — namely, they weren't very good. Opening the vaults is cool in theory, but there's no denying the milking-the-cow factor, especially when those cows are pop music's mythical icons, such as Dylan, Elvis, the Beatles, Michael Jackson, the Doors, etc. Hendrix belongs to this group, no doubt about it. At the same time, he is unique in the sense that there is a second vital question. What does such a release, Valleys of Neptune in this instance, tell us about where he was headed, musically? Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: Traversing the Valleys of Neptune. Classic Rock Crate Digger: Busting Up the Country-Rock Mafia By Justin Farrar March 3, 2010 8:05 AM 2 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Tons of country-rock artists — my Top 10, those on my exclusion list and countless others — are yours to rock out to whenever and however you want with your Rhapsody subscription. If you don't have one, click here to sign up for a free trial and see what we’re all about. The country-rock canon is like an incestuous mafia family. The overwhelming majority of its classic albums, from the Burritos' Gilded Palace of Sin to Neil's Harvest to the Eagles' masterful debut album (and yes, it is masterful), can be linked to just five artists: the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, the Band, Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead. Now that's one hell of a denim-clad oligarchy, ain't it? This got the Crate Digger thinking: Is it possible to tear down and rebuild the country-rock canon — let's say the genre's 10 all-time best albums — without including these five core artists, as well as the myriad groups and musicians with significant ties to them? This, of course, means I can't include albums from the following: Crosby, Stills and Nash Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young New Riders of the Purple Sage Gene Clark Dillard & Clark Muleskinner Old & In the Way The Dillards Gram Parsons Emmylou Harris The Gosdin Brothers Poco Linda Ronstadt Manassas* Well, below is what I came up with. And despite the self-imposed handicap, it's pretty sweet as far as alternate Top 10s go. Now mind you: some of the albums on the list were most definitely made with help from session musicians, engineers, producers and composers who also worked with the artists and groups mentioned above. To exclude a record based on these non-core role players, however talented, would've made the exercise too hard and most of all totally unfun. A guy like pedal-steel maestro Orville "Red" Rhodes played with just about every hippie cowboy in Los Angeles between the years 1968 and '75. So yeah, hired guns didn't count. But hey, if you discover a significant connection that I missed, then by all means post a comment. Hell, post a comment, regardless. We love hearing from our readers! In fact, my challenge to each and every one of you is to post your own Top 10s that adhere to identical criteria. I'd love to see what you come up with. By the way, if you find yourself wanting to listen to all the music I freak out about week in and week out, then simply use your Rhapsody subscription! Don't have one? Click here to sign up for a free trial and see what we're all about. Now on to my (alternate) Top 10 ... Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: Busting Up the Country-Rock Mafia. Classic Rock Crate Digger: Talking Peter Gabriel-Era Genesis with the Brothers Kane By Justin Farrar February 28, 2010 10:30 AM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. Over the last two weeks the Classic Rock Crate Digger has been obsessing over The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, arguably the apex of the Genesis discography. I've always appreciated Peter Gabriel-era Genesis, but it hasn't been until the last couple years that The Lamb's sheer brilliance has revealed itself to me. It isn't just prog; it's a way-ahead-of-its-time art-pop album every bit as futuristic as David Bowie's Heroes, Brian Eno's Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) and the Walker Brothers' Nite Flights. We're talking 100% avant rock, 1970s-style. But here's the catch: the Crate Digger, believe it or not, doesn't know early Genesis nearly well enough to write about them. Oh sure, I know and totally dig the basics, but this is prog we're talking about. It's complex and arty and difficult. Any critique worth a damn needs to come from a hardcore fanatic who knows the band's discography inside and out. Fortunately, I know two fanatics: Bob and Dave Kane. I grew up with the Brothers Kane in a place called Lyncourt, a miniscule speck of barely-middle-class houses and a china factory, rubbing shoulders with the city of Syracuse in central New York. Dave and Bob, a pair of seriously precocious preteens and gifted musicians to boot, were anything but average. When just about every other kid in the 'hood was lapping up Top 40 fare from Casey Kasem, they were honing their chops and diving mind-first into old-school progressive rock, particularly the mighty Genesis. Hell, they were too busy Selling England by the Pound to even notice Madonna's skimpy white lace. Well, then again … Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: Talking Peter Gabriel-Era Genesis with the Brothers Kane. Classic Rock Crate Digger: The Guitar Gods of Understatement and Tasteful Restraint By Justin Farrar February 15, 2010 1:05 PM 30 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. For the most part, the accepted guitar gods of classic rock are dudes who shredded, wailed and shredded some more. Understatement and tasteful restraint were never options for the likes of Hendrix, Mike Bloomfield, Santana, John Cipollina, Alvin Lee and Duane Allman. However awesome, they would always let it rip, and that's just how it had to be. Even Slowhand, during his "I just heard Music from Big Pink and it blew my mind" phase (i.e. Derek and the Dominos), played a lot of notes and had a knack for filling space with too many needlessly complex blues licks. The reason why classic rock fans champion the show-off is simple: folks like flash. It's the same in baseball. Fans revere the swaggering power-hitter, who often strikes out more than any other player on the team, over the trusty hitter who parlays singles and doubles into a .330 batting average season after season. Tony Gwynn, I'm looking at you. There do exist guitarists who have been embraced for the notes they didn't play. The Band's Robbie Robertson is one. Of course, he was once all about six-string shenanigans as well, that is until he started listening to Curtis Mayfield and Steve Cropper of Booker T. & the MGs. Not to jump off topic, but this brings up an interesting point: from whom did rock 'n' roll contract this thirst for overplaying? I'm no roots-music historian, but it certainly didn't come from rhythm & blues (Ike Turner excluded) or country. These genres have always preferred solid rhythm chops and economical solos. That leaves electric blues and (interestingly enough) bluegrass, both of which are traditions notorious for producing pickers who refuse to let a good song get in the way of their long and winding noodles. Outside an obvious pick like Robertson, who is else in classic rock mastered the unheralded art of restraint? Well, below are 10 badasses whom I believe fit the bill quite nicely. And as you're about to find out, understatement and tasteful restraint come in myriad shapes and sizes, from moody blues rock to thunder metal to psychedelic funk. While reading, check out my Guitar Gods of Understatement and Tasteful Restraint playlist. Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: The Guitar Gods of Understatement and Tasteful Restraint. Classic Rock Crate Digger: Carlos, man, what happened? By Justin Farrar February 13, 2010 9:18 PM 4 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Welcome to another edition of Classic Rock Crate Digger, a (near) weekly column wherein Rhapsody nerd Justin Farrar wanders the never-ending maze that is our catalog in search of classic rock's forgotten gems. If you're new 'round these parts, then also check out the Crate Digger's archives. There are more than a few folks out there, believe it or not, who think the great Carlos Santana is nothing more than some hot-licks geezer who occasionally plays guitar behind Michelle Branch and Rob “Smooth” Thomas. It's sad. Though I dig the guy, he only has himself to blame. Back in 1999, Santana apparently decided he wanted to be a pop star again at any cost. On Supernatural, as well as its carbon-copy successor, Shaman, the Latin legend went cookie-cutter on us by jumping in bed with a who’s who of Billboard pop tarts. In addition to Thomas and Branch, the albums featured cameos by Dave Matthews, Nickelback’s Chad Kroeger, Lauryn Hill, Macy Gray and (for some odd reason) Everlast. The results? A slew of Grammys, millions of records sold and the fame he so obviously craved. Of course, Santana reduced his signature guitar style into a parody of itself, but hey, at least he gets to polish all those little gold statuettes lining his marble mantle. Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: Carlos, man, what happened?. Classic Rock Crate Digger: Rediscovering East-West and Super Session By Justin Farrar February 1, 2010 10:48 PM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks The Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Mike Bloomfield and nearly every other band listed in this article are yours to rock out to whenever and however you want with your Rhapsody subscription. Click here to sign up for a free trial and see what we’re all about. There are those who actually believe young’ns no longer appreciate the rock. Well, the Classic Rock Crate Digger is here to tell you that's all hogwash. My generation -- as well as those following us -- know more about the history of bell-bottomed boogie, first-wave classic rock, heady prog and vintage psych-jams than the original dirties who created the sweaty stuff. Over the last 10 years just about every obscure stoner-nug recorded between 1968 and '73 has been reissued -- multiple times in many instances. What's more, my generation’s desire to rediscover these lost jammers extends well beyond the Occidental world. What we’ve come to learn through our tireless excavation is that longhairs with guitars thrived in just about every country dotting great Gaia herself. Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: Rediscovering East-West and Super Session. Classic Rock Crate Digger: David Bowie ... Post-Modern Chameleon or Rip-Off Artist? By Justin Farrar January 20, 2010 10:12 PM 9 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks David Bowie and every other artist listed here are yours to rock out to whenever and however you want with your Rhapsody subscription. Take a free trial and see what we’re all about. For a long time, the Classic Rock Crate Digger totally loathed David Bowie, particularly his golden period, 1970 to ’77. On so many of his so-called classic albums (Ziggy, Diamond Dogs, Heroes, et al.), he sounds like a glam-rock/New Wave charlatan constantly nicking tricks from far superior artists, including a few personal heroes: Scott Walker, Brian Eno and the perennially overlooked Peter Hammill. If that wasn’t enough, too many of his fans seem to possess a blind devotion that is more than a little annoying. I swear, at least 75% of the fanatics that I’ve met regard the guy as some kind of post-modern genius, the be-all and end-all of everything that's avant garde. Meanwhile, so few of these same people have ever even heard, say, Hammill’s Chameleon in the Shadow of Night or Walker’s Scott 4. Then something happened. I watched the incredible documentary Scott Walker: 30 Century Man, and it changed my mind. Sort of. Bowie, in addition to serving as executive producer, is one of the primary interviewees, and the guy really shines. First off, he doesn’t take himself seriously at all (no post-modern baloney dripping from his trap). What we've learned from Velvet Goldmine notwithstanding, he’s a rock 'n' roll fan boy, just like you and me and the little snot down the street snorting crushed Ritalin and cranking the White Stripes. That’s cool. More importantly, Bowie acknowledges the debt he owes the artists who have inspired him through the years. He wants his fans to track down all the cool underground stuff he digs. Now, I still find his music dull as river rock, and I’ll explain why: in order to sell his art-rock vision to the mainstream, he had to cleanse his influences of their most volatile, and interesting, idiosyncrasies -- not pop enough for the masses, apparently. Yet those are the things I’m most into -- the weird stuff. Oh well. The important thing is that I no longer hate David Bowie. In fact, having a cocktail with him and talking jams sounds like it would be a total blast. Maybe Geraldo can come, too. A lot of the artists Bowie has championed over the years (Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, T. Rex) are very nearly as famous as he is, nowadays. Nevertheless, I thought it would be cool to give a brief rundown of some of the musicians and records that inspired the, uh, Thin White Duke (always hated that phrase). Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: David Bowie ... Post-Modern Chameleon or Rip-Off Artist?. Classic Rock Crate Digger: A Dylan and Mellow Yellow Throwdown? By Justin Farrar December 23, 2009 6:06 PM 2 Comments | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks I’ve seen Don’t Look Back numerous times over the years, and I still don’t see the “Dylan is making Donovan look like a fool” meme that has become rock 'n' roll mythology since the documentary’s release in 1967. You know what I’m talking about: the legendary, or as some would have us believe, infamous hotel scene when Donnie croons “To Sing for You,” then passes the guitar to the Mighty Quinn, who offers up “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.” It’s a cool slice of history for sure, one of the 1960s' great songwriters hanging with one of the century’s great songwriters. Yet more than a few folks out there — and you know who you are — have transformed this scene into one of Western civilization’s classic beat downs. Here’s their interpretation: poor British Donovan, looking all awkward and sheepish, is auditioning for the Man, who is loud and obnoxious and who eventually interrupts him. Dylan then snatches the guitar from Donovan — still looking all awkward and sheepish — and proceeds to intentionally blow him out of the water with a cocky and brazen version of one of folk rock’s most famous songs. Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: A Dylan and Mellow Yellow Throwdown?. Classic Rock Crate Digger: The Story Behind the Blue Ridge Rangers By Justin Farrar September 24, 2009 11:59 AM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Ask much of the civilized world to name an album sequel with "blue" in its title, and the first thing out of their mouth is going to be Jay-Z’s The Blueprint 3. Ask the Classic Rock Crate Digger, however, and it’s going to be John Fogerty's The Blue Ridge Rangers Rides Again, a new collection of vintage country and roots-rock covers that rivals Jigga’s new joint when it comes to pushing product based on the number of high-profile cameos. Check it: there’s the Boss; drummer extraordinaire and Mellencamp cohort Kenny Aronoff; media mogul/producer Lenny Waronker; Eagles Don Henley and Timothy B. Schmit; Americana heavyweight Buddy Miller; and Herb "I've Played with Just About Every Major Country Rocker and Bluegrass Heavyweight of the Last Four Decades" Pedersen.* Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: The Story Behind the Blue Ridge Rangers. Classic Rock Crate Digger: Roots of the Twin Lead By Justin Farrar September 14, 2009 3:41 PM | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks First off, welcome to the first installment of my new column, Classic Rock Crate Digger. Like the dashboard of a vintage Saab, my mission statement is simple and to the point: dive into Rhapsody’s insanely bottomless catalog and explore all the nooks and crannies of that hairy, sweaty behemoth known as classic rock. You see, I love rock 'n' roll from the 1970s, but I’m so sick and tired of the same 40 songs my local DJ has been regurgitating for the last 35 years. Call me crazy, but there’s way more to classic rock than “Free Bird,” “More Than a Feeling” and “The Joker.” For example, just about anybody who worships riff-a-rific hard rock has cranked a little Free, those skinny, blues-rock Brits who sculpted one of the most titanic grooves ever know to man: “All Right Now.” Yet how many out there have dug into sprawling discography of The Groundhogs, who -- in my humble opinion, at least -- rock as hard as Free and Mountain and Grand Funk Railroad COMBINED? Unfortunately, the Groundhogs never scored a hit here in the States, so they're relatively unknown outside select circles. But just about any longhair between the ages of 18 and 65, regardless of his/her classic rock IQ, would absolutely flip for the band’s 1971 magnum opus, Thank Christ for the Bomb. Basically, I want to help expand the horizons of the average classic rock fan by offering him or her sounds that feel familiar yet new. I want to take Zep fanatics and turn them on to Terry Reid (or maybe even the second Cactus record). I want to explain to Floyd freaks why I dig Obscured by Clouds more than its successor, Dark Side of the Moon. And you know what? Rhapsody is just perfect for this kind of exploration. Sure, I sound like a corporate shill, but think about it: our service allows all of us to transcend the tyranny of America's classic rock DJs. No longer will we be beholden to their limited and antiquated playlists. We can roam as freely as we want. Now time for the twin lead... Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: Roots of the Twin Lead. Classic Rock Crate Digger: An Open Letter To My Local Disc Jockey By Justin Farrar May 18, 2009 1:50 PM 1 Comment | PERMALINK | No TrackBacks Dear Classic Rock DJ: In the past week, your station has played "Layla" 17 times. Now I love Derek & the Dominoes (Jim Gordon is a total monster behind the kit) as much as the next schmo. But your station's programming doesn't make a lick of sense. You call yourselves the "home of rock 'n' roll," yet you've been regurgitating the same 100 tracks since 1984. Why not inject some fresh blood into your rotation? C'mon dude, live a little! This will surely come off as uber presumptuous, but I've taken the liberty of putting together a handy-dandy playlist and song-by-song cheat sheet for you to take back to your program director. It is packed with cool young artists whose jams would sound just dynamite alongside titans like Bad Company and Floyd. For example, I’ve been cranking this tune by Susan Tedeschi called “Talking About.” This nuclear-powered sexpot howls like a cross between pre-adult contemporary Bonnie Raitt and Jeff Beck group-era Rod Stewart. Then there’s this nifty little group from Philly who go by the name Dr. Dog. Their tune “The Ark” has Elton John, Supertramp, Lennon and even old school Hall & Oates tattooed all over it. Don't get me wrong: I love your station. You are the only folks in town who still play The Wall in its entirety, and that's totally awesome. But I just feel like it's time to hear some new rock 'n' rock from the "home of rock 'n' roll." Am I right or what? Continue reading Classic Rock Crate Digger: An Open Letter To My Local Disc Jockey. « Chuck Eddy's Chuck It All In | Main Index | Archives | Classical » Monthly Archives Select One... 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