New home! Blogger's gone bonkers!!

Please reset your dial to this new location for the latest posts: my.opera.com/bloozer/blog. Cheers!

Steely Dan - Gaucho (1980)

One of the LPs in my collection that seemed just right for setting the mood on a Saturday morning. The music may have more to do with jazz sophistication than rock sensibility, but it's still a thrilling ride. It had to be, considering that Donald Fagen and Walter Becker are bona-fide musical geniuses and unyielding sticklers for perfection (the album was recorded in more than half a dozen studios over a three-year period!).

Though their beatnik whimsy and smarter-than-thou asides on songs like 'Babylon Sisters', 'Glamour Profession' and 'My Rival' tend to be tiresome at times, Fagen and Becker know how to hook you with their sinuous melodies, which are brilliantly burnished by the state-of-the-art production. And the long A-list musician lineup — Larry Carlton, Steve Khan, Mark Knopfler, Hiram Bullock, Rick Derringer, Michael and Randy Brecker, Steve Gadd, Joe Sample... — ensures consistency of performance throughout. Fans had to wait a decade after this to hear another new Steely Dan album... Just imagine that!

Frank Sinatra - In the Wee Small Hours (1955)

I've been a Sinatra fan since my early teens, and this album of ballads, one of the crowning achievements of his early career, has been a long-time favourite. The man sure knew how to get into a song; he makes exquisite art of all the 16 numbers here, including ultimate torch pieces like 'What is This Thing Called Love', 'When Your Lover Has Gone', 'I'll Never Be the Same' and 'It Never Entered My Mind'.

Perfect for late-night or "wee hours" listening, the set offers compelling testimony not only to Sinatra's standing as one of the greatest and most rivetingly emotive singers of all time, but also to his stature as a formidable interpretive master in the front rank of American popular music's pantheon of torch-bearers.

Isley Brothers - 3 + 3 (1973)

The local Columbia distributor used to run a record store on Penang island in the '70s that I used to hang out in almost every Saturday. I would walk in with ecstatic anticipation and scour the shelves like a ravenous groove rat for new releases I had heard on the John Peel Show or read about in NME. On one occasion, I remember hearing 'That Lady' and 'Summer Breeze' (the Seals and Crofts song) from this LP at the shop and deciding to buy it on the strength of just those two tunes. Only problem was, I could afford only one LP from my school pocket money, and I had already chosen Argent's 'In Deep'. Imagine my disappointment!

Anyway, I managed to borrow a copy of the album and was quite thrilled to discover neat soul-inflected versions of James Taylor's 'Don't Le Me Be Lonely Tonight' and the Doobie Brothers's 'Listen to the Music'. After all these years, the music still sounds fresh and stimulating.

The Moody Blues - Days of Future Passed (1967)

Despite being generally lumped in the prog-rock bag together with other groups from that era (Renaissance, Nice, even Deep Purple) which often used a full orchestra in their recordings, the Moody Blues always seemed pretty pop-centred and lightweight to me. That didn't mean I disliked the band. On the contrary, I loved their early works, especially this enduring symphonic-pop showcase which was conceptually way ahead of its time.

There may be a touch of pomposity about the proceedings, but it all seems of a piece with the spirit of the music, which is more about style than substance. In any case, 'Nights in White Satin' is still a magical song to me, even though it was somewhat inescapable on my favourite radio station, Radio RAAF Butterworth, during much of the '70s.

Thin Lizzy - Johnny the Fox (1976)

Another Thin Lizzy album I first heard on John Peel's show (there was a weekly BBC World Service shortwave broadcast in the '70s). I actually liked this better than its predecessor, Jailbreak, mainly because the songs rocked harder and the band's trademark double-guitar attack was tighter.

The poor CD transfer makes the album a tough listen now, but the songs still have plenty of appeal, especially 'Massacre' (apparently about the charge of the Light Brigade during the Crimean War) which was covered by Iron Maiden.

Rick Wakeman - The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table (1975)

This was one of the few LPs in my collection that friends of mine who weren't mad about music (never figured out what was wrong with them!) could sit through without whining and groaning. As a concept album centred on the Arthurian legend, it's somewhat overscored — Wakeman throws in everything from rock and ragtime to jazz and dance hall into the mix, sometimes within the same tune! It's also somewhat overdressed (rock band, orchestra and choir all going at once!), with vocals parts that at times overwhelm the music and rhythms that just never seem fluid.

But cluttered and clunky as the proceedings were, they had a strange appeal that kept use going back to the record every few months. The CD transfer underscores the inadequacies of the recording, but though it doesn't seem to have aged well, the album is still worth hearing, if only for Wakeman's Moog solo on the largely instrumental 'Merlin the Magician' and to get an idea of the splashiness of the concept-album trend that was prevalent in '70s prog-rock.

Jeff Beck - Wired (1976)

The follow-up to 1975's phenomenal 'Blow By Blow' finds Beck fiercer, flashier and funkier than ever, though there're some lyrical moments on the album ('Sophie', 'Love is Green') to balance out rip-roaring workouts like 'Led Boots', 'Blue Wind' and 'Head for Backstage Pass'. Jan Hammer, the synth world's equivalent of a shredder, is a perfect foil on the uptempo tunes, but there's never a moment's doubt who's the boss here.

I played the 'Wired' (lusted after a white Strat like the one on the cool cover for years!) and 'Blow By Blow' LPs a lot through much of the late '70s and the '80s, and got the CD versions soon as they hit the shops. It's music that never seems to go out of style!

Nick Drake - Bryter Layter (1970)

The first Nick Drake LP I bought (around 1973) and the album that contains some of the late English singer-songwriter's brightest, most hopeful songs, plus three gorgeous instrumentals. Many of the pieces feature lovely string arrangements, and the melodies, especially the sublime 'Northern Lights' and the melancholy 'At the Chime of a City Clock', haunt your head for days after your first listening session.

I still have the LP (Pink Moon, too), a British pressing in fairly scratch-free state, though it's the excellent 4-CD box set, 'Fruit Tree', that sees a lot of player action these days.

The Dream Academy - The Dream Academy (1985)

One of the most graceful, evocative and shamefully underheard pop albums of the '80s, The Dream Academy's almost forgotten debut (it's out of print in the U.S.) has withstood the test of time marvellously. That's a big deal, considering that much of the pop from that time is rather unlistenable now.

I dove into this like a dolphin long deprived of water, and spent many hours soaking up its bewitchingly lush, luscious and painterly textures. The hit 'Life in a Northern Town', an exquisitely melodic and introspective piece of chamber-pop dedicated to Nick Drake, is the most immediately alluring thing here. But the other tunes are equally strong and sweet, treating casual themes with a subdued poetic elegance and a sense of brooding romanticism.

Manfred Mann's Earth Band - Nightingales and Bombers (1975)

'Pluto the Dog', an infectiously chugging Moog-centred instrumental from 'Solar Fire' (1973), was on heavy rotation for a while in the mid-'70s on Radio RAAF Butterworth. It was one of the first tunes that turned me onto Manfred Mann's remarkable prog-rock outfit. Not long after that, I bought this LP and became a firm Earth Band fan.

It kicks off with a hard-rocking version of Bruce Springsteen's 'Spirits in the Night' and gets into trickier stuff, like the richly atmospheric closer 'As Above So Below' which incorporates an accidental WWII recording of flying bombers. Mann's amazing Moog solos and the often intriguing interplay between him and guitarist Mick Rogers make this a thrilling ride.

Frank Zappa/Captain Beefheart - Bongo Fury (1975)

I was never really into Zappa until I got this LP, through which I also discovered the strange magic of the astonishingly original Captain Beefheart. For some reason, I couldn't get enough of one particular track — the cunningly cryptic (or perhaps just tantalisingly absurd) 'Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy', a delightfully rocking piece of inspired hokum that climaxes with a blistering fuzz-guitar solo by Zappa.

Much of the music on the album was recorded live, but the musicians, including the indefatigable Terry Bozzio on drums, play without fluffing a note or missing a beat — as anyone would under the no-nonsense direction of Zappa the perfectionist. Even his flubbed line on 'Muffin Man' sounds scripted, though that doesn't mean there's anything stiff or stilted about the proceedings on the whole.

Ry Cooder - Bop Till You Drop (1979)

As one of Warner Bros.'s first digitally mastered recordings, the LP was packaged a bit differently than the standard releases. And I remember the thrill of putting it on the turntable to check out "the new sound", even though analogue seemed to work fine for me. I liked the music straightaway, but it took a while for me to get used to the somewhat overcompressed hiss-free sound.

While the set, a tribute to '50s pop and R&B, has some wrinkles, vibrant versions of classics 'Little Sister', 'Look at Granny Run Run' and 'Trouble, You Can't Fool Me' make the proceedings often irresistible. And Cooder's slide work is as sublime as ever, especially on a rousing rearrangement of 'I Think It's Going to Work Out Fine'.

Tower of Power - Tower of Power (1973)

Tower of Power's early '70s LPs feature some the finest and funkiest horn-charged soul ever committed to wax. This album and its follow-up, 1974's 'Urban Renewal', are true classics in the sense that the music just never seems to age. If anything, it sounds fresher than ever! And funk has never been this clever!

With ace singer Lenny Williams — arguably the most intriguing frontman TOP ever had — keeping the flame bright and strong, the group has the groove on every tune solidly anchored without constricting rhythmic flow even for a moment. And those horns! They just keep going and going in a blaze of glory or a blare of ecstasy. Just the starting place for the uninitiated.

Deep Purple - Burn (1974)

When we first heard the LP, my buddies and I were somewhat disappointed that Ian Gillan and Roger Glover weren't on any of the tracks. But as the music played on, disappointment gradually turned into excitement.

The Mark III line-up, with new vocalist David Coverdale and ex-Trapeze bassist/co-vocalist Glenn Hughes, were really cookin' on the songs, especially hard-drivin' chuggers like 'Lay Down, Stay Down', 'You Fool No One', 'What's Going on Here' and 'Burn'. It sounded like the band had coolly moved on to the next level. As for 'Sail Away' and 'Mistreated', they seem to have deservedly found their place among the most enduring songs in the DP catalogue.

Jackson Browne - For Everyman (1973)

Another Jackson Browne album I was so fond of I that I wore out the first copy of the LP within a few years and replaced it with a second one. It kick offs lightheartedly with a country-tinged version of the Eagles hit 'Take It Easy', which Browne co-wrote with Glenn Frey, and gets compellingly darker and deeper through pieces like 'Colors of the Sun', 'These Days', 'The Times You've Come' and 'For Everyman'.

There's some comic relief (the fiddle-fuelled 'Ready Or Not') and a bit of good-time boogie (the slide guitar-propelled 'Red Neck Friend') in between, but it's the introspective moments that reveal Browne's admirable ability to wed words to music and offer stunning portraits of human strife.

Boz Scaggs - Boz Scaggs (1969)

Forget about 'Silk Degrees', enticing though the pop-inflected 1976 chart-topper is. It's this brilliantly gritty Atlantic debut that shows what made the purveyor of blue-eyed soul tick in his prime. A remarkable ride that rolls together influences ranging from Motown to Southern rock, the album engages from the very beginning and keeps you hooked right through the aptly-titled closer, 'Sweet Release'.

Scaggs, who performs with a renewed surge of intensity on almost every track, gets superb support from the crack Muscle Shoals rhythm team. And the late Duane Allman lays down some blistering guitar on the 12-minute-plus 'Loan Me a Dime', a Hammond-drenched minor-mode blues ballad that has become a cult classic. Grab it!

Bruce Cockburn - Stealing Fire (1984)

One of Canada's most potent, prolific and consistently provocative singer-songwriters, Bruce Cockburn hammers out a powerful anti-war message on this politically charged album which was released a year after his first trip through the strife-torn parts of Central America.

I was totally mesmerised the first time I heard the LP, which got played a lot before my record player died on me. Hence, I was overjoyed to find a second-hand copy of the CD at a shop in Sydney, Australia in the early '90s. Songs like 'Lovers in a Dangerous Time', 'If I Had a Rocket Launcher' and 'Nicaragua' are among the most incendiary political tunes you're ever likely to hear. (A recent remastered CD reissue, which comes with two bonus tracks, is well worth seeking out.)

Joe Cocker - Sheffield Steel (1982)

To my mind, this is Joe Cocker's finest '80s recording — the album that has him assuredly scaling the heights as an interpretive singer through a varied set of perfectly chosen and programmed material. There's never a dull moment, and Cocker is as compelling as a rocker here ('Seven Days', 'Shocked', 'Talking Back to the Night') as he's affecting as a balladeer ('Marie', 'So Good, So Right', 'Just Like Always').

I practically wore out my copy of the LP, and the CD that replaced it is massively stained and fingerprinted from overuse. If you're a new listener seeking the best point of access to the artistry of Joe Cocker, this is the album I would recommend. (There's a remastered version now available with four bonus tracks — definitely worth your bread!)

Bad Company - Straight Shooter (1975)

Bad Company's straight-slammin' 1974 debut may be the best point of entry for the listener unfamiliar with Paul Rodgers's post-Free work. But it's this follow-up that really captures the band in their full glow.

To me, it's an essential part of my "sonic youth"... those years of early teenhood when I was excitedly soaking up all kinds of musical noise. It's also an album that showcases Rodgers as one of the finest rock singers ever. The bunch of memorable songs here, which include classics like 'Feel Like Makin' Love' and 'Shooting Star', still never fail to evoke the mood of the good ol' rockin' '70s.

Grand Funk Railroad - E Pluribus Funk (1971)

Yet another LP that Elvin the rock guru turned me onto. This was my first full exposure to GFR's rousingly energised, tightly-rocking music, and it's an album that stirs up loads of great teenage memories.

The anti-war anthem 'People, Let's Stop the War' sounds a bit hokey now, but most of the other tracks, including the infectiously lilting 'Upsetter' and the exquisitely melancholy 'Loneliness', still have plenty going for them. It was this album that made me go out and grab the Todd Rundgren-produced 'We're an American Band' (1973), another instant memory-jogger.

Rare Earth - Ma (1973)

My musically precocious pal Elvin was once again responsible for turning me onto another early '70s classic. Rare Earth's 'Ma', which had only five tracks, was one of the first psychedelic soul-rock albums (an unusual release from Motown considering that none of the band's members was African-American!) I heard. It only took a few spins of the LP to have me totally hooked.

What's amazing about the music is how uncomplex and elemental yet mesmerisingly improvisational and groove-based it is. And if you thought only Grateful Dead could turn an inspiredly loose and funky modal jam into a mind-blowing trip, wait till you hear Rare Earth! This is a studio album, but it becomes excitingly obvious from the set-opening 17-minute-plus title track that it's gonna be a rollickingly organic ride, sure to take you to the stratosphere and beyond.

Uriah Heep - Demons and Wizards (1972)

My high school jamming buddy Ramlan Said, who was a much better guitar player and singer than I was, introduced me to this album which he played at his big kampung house in Jawi. It's an LP that has some great, beguilingly dynamic songs and a Roger Dean cover painting that ranks as one his most inspired. Unfortunately, the album was panned by the clueless pro-establishment critics of the time, who also bashed cool folks like Black Sabbath and Stray who operated on the fringes of rock from around 1969 to 1973.

One of the set's highlights, 'The Wizard', still entrances me like no other song does... Actually, talking about 'Wizards and Demons' has made me curious about Ramlan. Wonder where he is now? I remember his big, hospitable family (his mum made sure visitors were well fed!) and all the strange Russian-made gear in their house (apparently his dad had worked at the Malaysian embassy in Communist-era Russia in the '60s). There was even a Russian-made electric guitar which thrilled me no end... There's another memory from this period that I have tried to suppress for years — Ramlan and I did a pathetic version of Albert Hammond's puerile hit 'It Never Rains in Southern California' in our school talentime. It was embarrassing, not only for the silly song choice, but also because of the way Ramlan burst out laughing during the second chorus. Ah, the follies of youth!

Black Sabbath - Vol 4 (1972)

I was initiated into the cult of Black Sabbath via a borrowed copy of their self-titled debut LP, which my supercool buddy Elvin let me keep for ages. But it was 'Vol. 4', the band's unimaginatively titled fourth effort, that really meant something to me as I had saved hard to buy it and was hence determined to get my money's worth from every track.

To me, this is the BS album that captures the group not only at the peak of their powers (and prowess), but also at their most stylistically diverse. The songs may not be as easy to latch on to as their hits, but they display a striking sophistication that defied the much-maligned characteristics of the metal medium of the time.

Cactus - Cactus (1970)

A long-forgotten power boogie cracker! After leaving Vanilla Fudge, bassist Tim Bogert and drummer Carmine Appice formed Cactus to grind out the kind of highly propulsive blues-rock Cream and Led Zeppelin were having a huge bang with around 1969-1970. The original plan was for them to team up with Jeff Beck and Rod Stewart and jump on the supergroup bandwagon that was all the rage then. But Beck was put out of action by a serious motorbike crash and Stewart had moved on to the Faces, so guitarist Jim McCarty of the Detroit Wheels/Buddy Miles Express and singer-harmonica player Rusty Young of the Amboy Dukes were hired to keep the project alive.

Surprisingly for a unit put together in a hurry, Cactus rocked pretty wickedly, as this debut — arguably their best album — demonstrates. Day more than proves his worth as a screamer, and while McCarty may not be in the same league as Beck, he turns in some truly searing, shreddy solos. Of course, all this wouldn't work without the rock-solid rhythm foundation laid down by Bogert and Appice who enjoyed a short-lived moment of glory as Beck, Bogert & Appice (check out their album) immediately after Cactus disbanded.

Status Quo - On the Level (1975)

The only Status Quo LP I ever owned. I bought it on a whim after hearing only a couple of tracks. A momentary lapse of taste? Perhaps. But the funny thing is, I soon became very familiar with the songs and kinda dug the whole "bad white boy boogie" routine and larky vibe that were the the band's long-standing trademarks.

Hearing this on CD again brought back plenty of memories... mainly of silly moments, of course.

Bruford - One of a Kind (1978)

Just after he quit Yes in the late '70s, drummer Bill Bruford plunged into the world of fusion with a series of albums that attest to his ability to successfully assimilate various styles with an incredible degree of sophistication. 'One of a Kind', which has Bruford working with Allan Holdsworth, Jeff Berlin and Dave Stewart (no, not that Dave Stewart but the British prog-rock veteran who handled keyboard duties for various top bands of the 70s!), is highly involved and tricky, with lots of syncopated passages and some stunning solos by Holdsworth (definitely some of his best work).

This is an LP that revealed new things each time I heard it from around 1979 to the early '80s. It has a lot more going for it than its predecessor, the somewhat uneven 'Feels Good to Me' (1977), and the music stands as some of the most stimulating fusion to come out of the British prog-rock scene of the late '70s.

James Taylor - Gorilla (1974)

'Sweet Baby James' (1970) and 'Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon' (1971) were the two James Taylor albums I sunk myself into a lot before I picked up this LP. Compared to those grimly confessional works which contained sentiments I could relate to as a teenager, 'Gorilla' seemed pronouncedly upbeat, sweet and sunny... A bit too sunny, in fact, as Taylor appeared to be basking in the glow of mainstream success rather than creating affecting art out of personal pain like he used to.

Still, this has some fabulous songs whose main strength lies in their sparkling combination of folk sensibility and pop sophistication. While the cute cover of the Motown hit 'How Sweet It Is' (a duet with Taylor's erstwhile wife Carly Simon) is pure ear-candy, alluring originals like 'You Make It Easy' (featuring one of David Sanborn's most inspired sax solos), 'I Was a Fool to Care' and 'Lighthouse' (with terrific harmony support from David Crosby and Graham Nash) give Taylor ample room to show off his formidable chops as a crooner. 'Gorilla' is probably the last great album Taylor made before jumping on the superstar bandwagon.

The Doors - Morrison Hotel (1970)

Like most teenagers growing up in the '70s, we got our first taste of the Doors via 'Light My Fire'. It sounded like a cool song to us, though we thought it was too light and somewhat "poppy" compared with the other stuff we were listening to at the time. It wasn't until we heard 'Roadhouse Blues', which kicks off this album, that we started to really like the band. We'd always dug heavy blues-rock, and the charged and contagiously chugging stomper was the closest thing by the band that resembled the kind of rip-roaring power boogie that we were enamoured of at the time.

As an album reflecting the carefree spirit of the hippie era, 'Morrison Hotel' has much going for it atmospherically. But scanning the lyrics, you'd realise how ridiculously overrated Jim Morrison was as a songwriter. This is some of the silliest and shallowest "poetry" penned by a rock legend! Which makes you wonder if the Lizard King would be worshipped as a sort of hippie Krishna if he had lived right through the '70s and not had such a poetic end.

Focus - At the Rainbow (1973)

The Dutch band's 'Sylvia' and 'Hocus Pocus' were on heavy rotation on Radio RAAF Butterworth through much of the '70s. The tunes became so familiar that I could play them in full in my head anytime.

This live album may not be the best way to introduce new listeners to the band's largely instrumental material, but it does capture the group's natural feel for fusion and their improvisatory spirit, especially through the assured performances of guitarist Jan Akkerman and flutist-keyboardist Thijs van Leer. At any rate, the album ranks highly among the still-in-print rock concert recordings of the early '70s.

Joe Walsh - The Smoker You Drink, The Player You Get (1973)

While 1975's 'So What' remains my all-time favourite Joe Walsh album, this second solo ride kicks off with the tune that was a big part of my early teenhood — the guitar-powered 'Rocky Mountain Way'. It was constantly on the weekend playlist of Radio RAAF Butterworth, and I remember hearing it many times on my transistor, usually way past midnight.

The album has its annoyingly quirky and self-indulgent moments, but the excellent production makes you sit through every song, if only to check out the smaller details. And if you think the the main guitar riff on 'Meadows' bears more than a passing resemblance to Deep Purple's 'Woman from Tokyo', you may be onto something!

John Martyn - Solid Air (1973)

Had some hazy, lazy nights listening to John Martyn on Radio Luxembourg at a bar in Brussels in the mid-'80s. It's the sort of misty magic I wish would happen more often in these crazy times.

Anyway, this is the CD I put on to be transported back to that period, and what a terrific trip it always proves to be. Martyn's heady mix of folk, jazz and electronics will have you reeling with quiet bliss, and such pieces as 'I Don't Want to Know', 'Go Down Easy' and 'The Easy Blues' should leave you wanting more. Includes the original 'May You Never' that was a minor hit for Eric Clapton.

Steely Dan - Aja (1977)

If I were asked to pick only one Steely Dan album for a desert island retreat, this is the disc I'd drop into my backpack, or more likely, digitise and dump onto my iPod. A stunningly sophisticated combination of pop, jazz and beat poetry, 'Aja' is the kind of album artists would make if they cared a little more about craft and lot less about commerce.

Donald Fagen and Walter Becker have been making such great music over the decades mainly because they don't give a damn what bottom line-obsessed record company executives or consumers who're nothing more than zombified trend-slaves think. This is some of the smartest pop you're ever likely to hear, and if it seems a bit too complex and heady, that's probably because you've not given yourself a chance to evolve (too much Mariah, Britney, Jennifer eh?) as a listener.

Grateful Dead - American Beauty (1970)

It's perhaps the only Grateful Dead album you ever need to buy if you're not a true fan of the band. More folk-inflected and tightly-structured than anything they've done before or after, 'American Beauty' testifies to their collective capacity for creating songs that you can not only hum but also use as tools for recollecting magical moments in your life.

Just about every track here — you'll never tire of listening to 'Box of Rain', 'Friend of the Devil', 'Candyman', 'Ripple' and 'Attics of My Life' no matter how many times you play them — induces a flood of terrific memories for me... moments from my youth that seemed insignificant at the time but have become so precious and dear in these days of disillusion and fear.

Neil Young - After the Gold Rush (1970)

This album, and its followup, 1972's 'Harvest', were the two Neil Young albums that saw the most use on my turntable. It's not a favourite with the critics, but to me, it's music you listen to when you want your soul stirred and your heart warmed.

Almost every song here seeps into your consciousness after only a few hearings. Tracks like 'Tell Me Why', 'After the Gold Rush', 'Only Love Can Break Your Heart' and 'Southern Man' are among the most memorable songs Young has written, and the diversity of the arrangements (harmony-embellished folk, orchestral pop, jam-style rock...) and the great line-up of supporting musicians (Danny Whitten, Billy Talbot, Jack Nitzsche, Nils Lofgren, Stephen Stills...) make this a truly rousing ride.

Weather Report - Heavy Weather (1977)

I've always been a huge Weather Report fan, and 'Heavy Weather', which features the late Jaco Pastorius's finest contributions to the band, has long been a particular favourite of mine. I remember playing the LP at least once a week at one stage; so familiar did I become with the music that when I was bored and away from home, I'd just let it play in my head — from the first track to the last — and get exhilarated.

This is what fusion should be — an astute amalgamation of jazz, pop, funk and Latin influences that never fails to fascinate on each hearing. While Pastorius's singing fretless bass anchors many of the tunes, including the popular 'Birdland', it's the incredibly precise and tight interaction among the players that makes the whole album such a joy to listen to. The uninitiated should start here.

Jackson Browne - Late for the Sky (1974)

This was my constant companion through much of my late teenage years. It was the first Jackson Browne LP I bought, and the I one feel has his best and most inspiring songs.

The themes are dark and gloomy — death, decay, loss and loneliness — but Browne's remarkable gift for conveying deep message in sublime melodies makes listening to 'Late for the Sky' not only a positively absorbing but also a profoundly affecting experience. There's such poignant poetry in pieces like 'For a Dancer' and 'Fountain of Sorrow' that you'd be just swept away by the supreme lyricism of the moment. And in the closing track, the enthralling 'Before the Deluge', Browne intelligently uses biblical imagery to paint a picture of hope for humanity in the face of self-induced destruction and devastation. It's truly a majestic achievement!

David Lindley contributes some excellent slide guitar work here, and the whole album is solidly grounded in terms of artistic vision, production and musicianship. This is the disc I would strongly recommend to anyone who hasn't heard Browne or any masterful, thought-provoking singer-songwriter like him before.

Richard and Linda Thompson - I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight (1974)

This is truly timeless folk-rock! Richard and Linda Thompson's critically acclaimed 1974 album is the sort of emotionally powerful, intensely personal work that defined the singer-songwriter movement of the '70s. It's an often melancholy, meditative ride that takes you to the heart of the matter without a hint of artifice.

The songs may touch on such dark themes as the bleakness of life and the cruel nature of fate, but there's a hopeful spark in the music that comes through in Richard's sometimes searing, sometimes sweet guitar solos and Linda's achingly beautiful voice. I'd choose this over the somewhat overpraised 'Shoot Out the Lights' (1982) anytime.

Don McLean - American Pie (1972)

It's been dissected line by line, punctiliously analysed as if it were classic poetry, and even been acclaimed as a major literary achievement by spurious scholars! I'm, of course, talking about the epic — both in terms of length and thematic sweep — title track of this LP, which sadly is the only thing Don McLean is remembered for these days.

No doubt, 'American Pie', which is as much about Buddy Holly's tragic plane crash death as it is about the American Dream, is a pop classic. But as the other songs on the album demonstrate, the folk tradition-steeped McLean was more than a history-exploiting one-hit wonder... I must record my gratitude here to the DJs of Radio RAAF Butterworth for introducing me to McLean's other fine songs, including 'If We Try', 'Castles in the Air' and 'Infinity', in the '70s.

Chicago - Chicago III (1971)

While 'Chicago VI' was the band's first LP I bought and liked in the early '70s, I grew to appreciate their earlier work more as I got older. Their first album is rightly celebrated as a jazz-rock landmark, and this double LP is almost in the same league.

What's really great about this, besides its unusual mix of jazz, pop and poetry, is the fact that there's no hit material here. Instead, what you get is challenging stuff that's full of the kind of musical adventurism the band seemed to thrive on in their early days but sadly abandoned once they began scoring hits.

Janis Joplin - In Concert (1972)

While her studio albums do a decent job of representing the power and the passion of her artistry, it's Janis Joplin's concert recordings that truly capture the sheer visceral intensity the singer was capable of generating.

This double LP is the one to get if you want to listen to Joplin at her best. Some of the songs were recorded with Big Brother & The Holding Company in 1968 while the others come from gigs with Full Tilt Boogie in 1970. The versions of 'Piece of My Heart', 'Down on Me', 'Move Over' and 'Ball and Chain' here remain strikingly unaffected by the passage of time.

Al Kooper - Naked Songs (1973)

Al Kooper was a big hero of mine in the early '70s. Long out of print and now available on CD only as an overpriced Japanese import, his 'Naked Songs' is one of those albums that take you back instantly to a bygone era the moment the music starts.

For a seemingly haphazard project — Kooper recorded the album to fulfil a contractual obligation with Columbia — it sounds remarkably rounded and cohesive. All his seminal influences, including blues, gospel, country and jazz, are marvellously melded in the songs.

Allan Holdsworth - Velvet Darkness (1976)

While the guitar icon has more or less disowned this early recording, citing the unsympathetic approach of legendary Blue Note recording engineer Rudy Van Gelder, it still stands as a landmark contribution to the evolution of electric guitar technique.

The compositions are highly complex, and Holdworth is often in majestic form on the tunes featuring his dizzying electric playing, though it's his acoustic guitar pieces that impress you the most. I practically wore out the LP as it was on my turntable at least three or four times a month.

Slade - Feel the Noize: Greatest Hits

We went ape over Slade. And we have to thank Radio RAAF Butterworth for satiating our hunger for hits by the British glam-rock band in the good old '70s. The station, run by Australian Air Force serviceman, kept our ears nicely fed for years.

Of course, we bought the LPs as well, though someone was always pinching them from us. Almost all the hits that matter — 'Cum on Feel the Noize', 'My Friend Stan', 'Skweeze Me, Pleeze Me', 'Look Wot You Dun'... — are presented in a decently remastered form on this UK compilation.

Bonnie Raitt - Give It Up (1972)

I used to have all of Bonnie Raitt's early '70s LPs, including this solid effort. Though 1973's 'Takin' My Time' was the album I liked the most, there was enough good stuff on this one to make me dig it out for a spin now and then.

The choice of songs is excellent, with Raitt particularly giving her all on a rousing version of Jackson's Browne's 'Under the Falling Sky'. Taj Mahal and the guys from Little Feat are among the folks who offer the big-voiced slide-playing lady some splendid support.

Jade Warrior - Waves (1975)

I remember borrowing this cosmic-fusion album from a friend and being beguiled by the laidback, atmospheric, jazz-inflected compositions — one long suite on each side of the LP.

Flutes, guitars, and keyboards (Steve Winwood guests on Moog and piano) enrich the musical tapestry that Jade Warrior seem to have woven thread by thread. If you like slow-paced fusion with the occasional burst of energy, this should be right up your alley.

Montrose - Montrose (1973)

Way before Van Halen, around the time Led Zeppelin were starting to hit the big time, there was Montrose.

Led by guitarist Ronnie Montrose, a showman in the tradition of Jimmy Page and Ted Nugent who honed his skills playing with Van Morrison and Edgar Winter, the group (Bill Church on bass, Denny Carmassi on drums and a young Californian singer named Sammy Hagar) came charging out of nowhere with this ballsy hard-rock showcase that many regard as the first true heavy metal album by an American band. It's "chicks, cars and caviar" rock 'n roll! Brazen and brutish as hell... a rip-roaring blast from the past!

Paul Simon - Paul Simon (1972)

Everyone I knew at school could sing the chorus of 'Mother and Child Reunion', which was probably well-liked because of its leisurely pace, faux-reggae lilt and almost Oriental-sounding guitar intro.

But I preferred 'Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard' because I could impress the girls with the quick chord changes and the song's naturally propulsive rhythm on my guitar. Of course, these were the least clever songs on the album, which is why the geeks went for things like 'Everything Put Together Falls Apart', 'Peace Like a River' and 'Armistice Day'.

Cat Stevens - Teaser and the Firecat (1971)

The girls used to swoon over 'Morning Has Broken' as we groaned collectively. But then, we were predisposed to frown on anything that sounded sweet... except Sweet, of course.

In any case, I really liked most of the songs on this LP, particularly 'Moonshadow' and 'Peace Train'. This was music you usually heard on a sunny Sunday and momentarily forgot that innocence was slipping away from your life. And now, listening to it is a good way to remind yourself that before he became the holier-than-thou Yusuf Islam, Cat Stevens was a pretty fun dude!

Grant Green - Matador (1964)

When the Blue Note catalogue was reissued on CD in the late '80s, I went on a buying spree, grabbing every title I could find. Among the first stack of discs I brought home was Grant Green's third album 'Grandstand' (1961), one of the finest hard-bop guitar showcases ever recorded. It gave me an unforgettable buzz, even though I had heard tracks from it in the '70s.

This 1964 session, released only in Japan in 1979 following Green's death the same year, is just as solid. Brilliantly backed by McCoy Tyner, Bob Cranshaw and Elvin Jones, the guitarist takes you on a mesmerising modal journey that recalls Miles Davis's 'Kind of Blue'... I could listen to this kind of infectiously vibrant straightahead jazz the whole day!