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.
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Be sure to also check out my
Rolling Stones' U.K. Discography (1964-'67) playlist.
The Rolling Stones EPComing on the heels of their searing Beatles cover, "I Wanna Be Your Man," this debut EP never saw stateside release, but songs from it became available with More Hot Rocks (Big Hits & Fazed Cookies) in 1974. Featuring a rawness that's extreme even for these masters of surface noise, the four songs here seem to have had a direct, indelible effect on The Flamin' Groovies, for starters. "Bye Bye Johnny" is just the second time (of many, many times) they nail Chuck Berry like no one else, and "Poison Ivy" sounds good no matter who's playing it. [Mike McGuirk]
The Rolling StonesThe superior U.K. version of The Stones' first record, this 1964 statement of purpose differs from the U.S. version most obviously in the title (it isn't the goofy England's Newest Hit Makers). It also opens with what was perhaps their best song at the time, "Route 66," and "Not Fade Away" is switched out with "Mona (I Need You Baby)," their other best song from the early days, except for maybe "King Bee," "Carol" or … a thousand others. The greatest rock 'n' roll band somehow comes off even cooler with this original version. As far as first albums go, this punches Please Please Me in the face. [M.M.]
Five By Five EPFeaturing two somewhat forgettable Jagger/Richards compositions and three covers, Five by Five was churned out right after the band's eponymous debut took over the parts of England not already claimed by The Beatles. This may be the very first instance where The Stones cash in on their universal appeal with a less-than-stellar product. Recorded at Chess Studios in Chicago, the EP is nowhere near the explosion of raw power their first EP was. Still, "Around and Around" rules. [M.M.]
The Rolling Stones No. 2This import version of The Stones' second U.K. album was called The Rolling Stones, Now! in the U.S. (and was their third release in the States). Track-wise, the two albums don't entirely match up, as some songs from this were released in the U.S. on 12 X 5, which was their second Stateside album. Still with us? Who cares, Brian Jones' guitar playing is absolutely filthy on "Down Home Girl," "I Can't Be Satisfied" and, especially, "What a Shame." Don't miss the solo in "Off the Hook," either. The Stones were about as badass as a band could be around this time. [M.M.]
Out of Our HeadsOut of Our Heads is one of the rare exceptions in The Stones' discography: the American version just might beat out the British one. This, of course, is debatable. The former contains three classics — "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction," "The Last Time" and "Play With Fire" — absent from the latter. But the reason the band left these off the original full-length is because Brits thought it a rip-off to include tracks that were previously released as singles. In this sense, the U.K. incarnation of Out of Our Heads is a proper album as opposed to a mishmash of hits, B-sides and filler. [J.F.]
AftermathThe American version of Aftermath is a fantastic record, but its U.K. counterpart is superior. Exchanging "Paint It, Black" for three additional originals — "Mother's Little Helper," "Take It or Leave It" and the Motown-flavored "Out of Time" — it stands as a more impressive document of The Stones' growth as both songwriters and in-studio sonic explorers in 1966. Both "Lady Jane" and "I Am Waiting" benefit from Brian Jones' growing interest in exotic stringed instrumentation. Meanwhile, the 11-minute "Going Home" is one of the first extended blues-rock improvisations to be committed to tape. [J.F.]
Big Hits (High Tide and Green Grass)A seven-month lag occurred between the release dates of the U.K. and U.S. versions of Big Hits (High Tide and Green Grass), The Stones' first greatest-hits package. Because pop music was evolving at such an accelerated clip in '66, the delay forced Decca Records to alter the British track listing so the collection remained current. Rather than "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction," then over a year old, this version opens with the psych-punk, wall-of-sound jammer "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?" At the time, it was the most daring and audacious single the band had yet to release. [J.F.]
Between the ButtonsThe Stones themselves (particularly Mick Jagger) were dismissive of Between the Buttons upon its release in '67. Indeed, the production is muddy, blurry and out of focus (proto-lo-fi?), plus the harmonies often sound like the feral screeches of alley cats in heat. However, these imperfections only add to the album's grimy, demented charm. Clearly influenced by The Kinks' Face to Face and Dylan's Blonde on Blonde, the band attempted to craft a fusion of baroque pop and folk rock, but because they're sonic Neanderthals when all is said and done, they wound up inventing psychedelic punk rock. [J.F.]
Through the Past, Darkly (Big Hits Vol. 2)For all intents and purposes, Through the Past, Darkly (Big Hits Vol. 2), The Stones' second greatest-hits collection of the '60s, is the last title in the band's discography to have significantly different track listings for its U.K. and U.S. incarnations. The most notable discrepancy is "We Love You," a wonderfully weird psych-pop single from 1967 featuring uncredited backing vocals from John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Americans would have to wait another three years, for the release of More Hot Rocks (Big Hits & Fazed Cookies), before they could listen to the track in full-length format. [J.F.]
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2. Vince Guaraldi Trio
1. The Beach Boys
Anika's Dystopian Chamber Rock
The Field's Space Ritual
The Flaming Lips Deliver Progressive Rock Into the 21st Century
Suicide Cheat Death
The Grateful Dead
The singer-songwriter movement is generally depicted as an outgrowth of the 1960s folk revival. Near decade's end, as the story goes, denim-clad bards and feathery songbirds such as James Taylor, Joni Mitchell and Jackson Browne shifted folk music's gaze off the world outside, including all its myriad political and social crises, and cast it upon humanity's inner realms (i.e. questions addressing emotional and psychic health, existential inquiry, love, relationships, even faith). Though these artists pushed folk into an orbit closer to pop's sonic palette, their music remained predominantly acoustic, centering around the solo performer as well.
The Beach Boys
"Heavy psych." Just the words themselves sound cool. When someone says a band plays heavy psych, you immediately at least have an idea of what you're in for. Specifically, super loud guitars, howling feedback and long floating sections that sound like you're docking your space craft on, um, Uranus. Or maybe Saturn. Anyway, fun, fun, fun. 
With this installment of Rhapsody's Senior Year series, I attempt to construct an alternative to Dazed & Confused's depiction of mid-'70s America. Imagine this: while all of Lee High's jocks, stoners and make-the-scene wannabes partied in the woods to the sounds of Foghat and Aerosmith, the school's introverted smarty-pants types — many of whom tutored all them lunkheads in shoulder pads during the school year — retreated to their parents' basements. There, they spent the night tinkering with their Radio Shack 150-in-One Electronic Project Kits while exploring rock's outer limits: art rock, ambient music, the more cerebral end of glam, fusion and Krautrock.
A massive prog fan (and once a teenage nerd himself), Vincent Gallo touched on this definition in his review of King Crimson's The ConstruKction of Light album: "When I started listening to King Crimson and some of the better progressive rock bands then, it really felt like the ideas, sensibilities, aesthetics and certainly the music were complex and very new and had a real relationship with the most interesting younger people of the time ... The friends who I went to see King Crimson, Yes and Genesis concerts with were the same friends who were hip enough to go with me to see The Ramones' first gig in Buffalo, and the same friends who later dug 'Spoony G.'"
1. Pink Floyd
With the arrival of Alice Cooper's new record, Welcome 2 My Nightmare -- a concept-album sequel to his 1975 classic Welcome to My Nightmare -- we got to thinking. It seemed like the whole idea of the concept album, a major facet of the rock era, with entries from damn near everybody -- The Beatles (Sgt. Pepper's), The Beach Boys, The Kinks, Floyd, Yes, Genesis, The Who -- had died a horrible, somewhat goofy, death. In my addled mind, I somehow got the idea that besides pretty much anything by Mastodon or R. Kelly (who both sang a cellphone conversation or hid in a closet), the concept album had gone the way of the dinosaur since Roger Waters' The Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking came out in 1984. Boy, was I wrong.
Green Day
On November 7, 2001 — less than two months after the September 11 attacks — Alan Jackson performed a brand-new song at the CMA Awards. He quickly moved the audience to tears, and "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning") soon became the quintessential post-9/11 song for many.
Not since Chicago's infamous 1979 Disco Demolition Night has there been such a vociferous backlash to a body of music. Back then, it was an entire genre. In 2003, the target was more precise: the Dixie Chicks. 
Try to imagine what he looked like, 71 years old at the time, grey-haired and disheveled, likely taken away from coffee or oatmeal or whatever a saxophone colossus has for breakfast. You gotta think that Sonny Rollins, whose Tribeca apartment was a few blocks away from the World Trade Center, was probably just as scared as everyone else. But here's the thing: when the television cameras caught him that morning, it wasn't startling to see his surgical mask or his slouching posture as he boarded the evacuation bus; it was the fact that he had the presence of mind to grab his horn. 
In the immortal words of Olivia Newton-John, have you never been mellow? Have you never tried to find a comfort from inside you? Have you never been happy just to hear your song? Have you never let someone else be strong?
Life seemed so much simpler in the '80s, and for me at least, our music and how we listened to it reflected that. The day after my senior prom, my friends and I gathered at a local beach and cranked up our boom boxes. Let me be clear: the music that came flooding out of those speakers is nothing I'm proud of. I know some of my teen counterparts were exploring edgy underground bands, but my suburban friends and I were happy not to stray too far beyond the constraints of straight-up pop and rock. We listened to what was on the radio and what the local DJs spun at school dances. We didn't know any different, and now those songs are part of our collective memories, like it or not.
