Reviews: The Rolling Stones' "Exile on Main Street"- 2010 Deluxe Edition

First Published in PressPlus1 Online Mgazine: http://www.pressplus1.com/blog/evan+dowbiggin/2082-exile-on-main-street-2010-deluxe-edition-revitalizes-one-of-rocks-masterpiece-records.html

Where do we go from here?: The eternal question of those at a creative or monetary watershed moment while looking forward. And for the Rolling Stones, how to follow up the whirlwind bounceback of the past 2 years as they convened to record their new album in 1971. At this juncture, the band was finally getting financially secure and free of the same kind of mismanagement that plagued pop music acts in the 60s when everyone realized they could ruthlessly make a buck off long-haired kids playing rock and roll. True, the Stones had weathered the storm, but they were getting the crunch from England's heavy taxation system of its upper class now. Therefore, the group's management decided they would become tax exiles, moving business accounts to various overseas offshore holding companies and so on. The Stones would do very little recording in the UK over the next two decades, instead working sessions in the US as well as exotic locales like Jamaica or European destinations such as Paris or Munich. In 1971 they had basked in the success of a few lucrative tours plus the healthy sales of Sticky Fingers.

It was an era of business transitions, ditching Allen Klein and then leaving Decca Records for Atlantic, the US based label that made its bread off of R&B recordings but was now expanding into the rock field. Atlantic's head Ahmet Ertegun was the willing partner they found in negotiating the Stones' very own label, Rolling Stones Records, which came to feature their iconic tongue drawing as its eye catching logo. But not too far off was a critical backlash as the Stones made records underwhelming when put up next to their seminal 60s works- although in retrospect when discounting their 60s works, their 70s output is quite enjoyable on its own merit. Underneath the surface were problems with cohesion that had not been there before. Each member seemed off on their own trip, with the jet-setting Mick Jagger trying to piece it all together under an auspice resembling the old Rolling Stones. It was a time of chaos that produced the masterful Exile on Main Street, made amidst intriguing web of lurid sex, drug smuggling, vengeful dealers, visits to detox centers and tangled business dealings.

On May 18 in North America, the Stones' new distributors, Universal Music, will be unveiling a deluxe edition of Exile on Main Street, featuring 11 bonus cuts as well as the original album re-mastered to meet 2010's standards for remastering. There will be the usual plethora of limited time discs with the usual liner note, photo and bonus track goodies but even the basic deluxe edition is loaded with additions onto the original 18 track release. There will also be the classicist's choice through limited edition vinyl copies, though they're curiously different in that you will only get the original 2LP set and not the bonus tracks. Well, bah humbug to you to, Stones. Back in the late spring of 1971, the Stones settled in a Keith Richards-rented villa in Nelcotte, France. Recording with the Stones state-of-the-art mobile studio truck, they were situated in the damp, stone-walled basement to play. The setting was made eerier by the building's history as the local Gestapo headquarters when Nazi Germany occupied France in World War II. With gold swastika-shaped floor air vents and the knowledge the basement was for all intents and purposes a former torture chamber, Exile right away had the bizarre circumstance behind it that only a legendary work could come up with.

What eventually, after many months, arrived was a sprawling double album. The group was interested in cutting an album that showed their diverse tastes in rock, blues, country, etc. There would be less of Mick's contemporary aspirations as there had been on Sticky Fingers and would be to come, and that's a positive because the final product is now regarded as one of the greatest albums ever released. As far as rock goes, it has my #1 and personally I've listened to thousands of albums. No non-compilation LP can define what rock and roll was in its first 2 decades better than Exile. Nothing else combines all the thrilling elements for the rock and roll stew in my estimation. With the album, the Stones blues roots are on display not to mention their love of R&B, country & western, bluegrass, folk and their own sinister brand of riff-rock perfected over the previous decade of existence. And hey, they even sneak in shades of gospel, calypso and the usual raunchy lyrics. Recording amidst a sporadic production rate resulted in plenty of guest musicians and some cuts featuring an absecne of members, namely Bill Wyman who grew tired of the gaps in recording and retreated to a rented sailboat and went off to enjoy the Meditteranean wth his latest girlfriend.

Jimmy Miller, who had produced their past three studio releases dating back to 1968's career reviving milestone Beggar's Banquet, was again enlisted to produce. Richards was off-and-on involved and often held up recording with his constant trips to go "put his son (Marlon) to bed," so to speak. These breaks often took hours in which he actually was indulging in his infamous junkiedom. By '71, the Stones weren't as keen on being #1 as often as they had been in the 60s when they were one of many contenders and had the heavy challenge of matching up to the Beatles. Naturally, without the Fabs in the way, they used the 70s to rack up their biggest sales and best charting LPs yet, though #1 singles wouldn't be frequent after 1969 (only "Brown Sugar" and "Miss You" topping the US or UK charts). The Stones became, like every other elite in rock, album oriented artists for the most part. Exile troughs through America's rich musical history, excluding anything jazz or classical that is, and while critical gripes lay with its 18 tracks and "filler," years have proven kind and now even the most minor tracks are praiseworthy. There's very little formulaic here, especially when the next 3.5 decades have proven the Stones to be nothing if not mechanical producers of generic riff-rock.

The open G riffs and licks were still fresh in 1972 but that seemed to matter little to critics who were hung up on the Stones not matching a "Sympathy for the Devil" or "Gimme Shelter"- though "Tumbling Dice" survived as the choice, classic cut to be forever included on every Stones retrospective compilation. What also was deemed a problem with the double set was its mix but no other Stones album sounds like it and that's a flat out positive to this writer. Mick's vocals are buried in the mix but not to the point of being inaudible or overcome by other instruments, and though they are indecipherable that's the case with everything Mick sang before getting a vocal coach and enunciating in the 80s and beyond. That was just carrying on the fine blues tradition of singing vague, mumbly lyrics to enhance the mystique. What it comes down to is that Exile is a masterpiece that ages like fine wine and not one listen to it has ever sounded worse than the previous, in fact sometimes it gets better with repeated listens. Then again I have heard all its tracks dozens and dozens of times so I have a rather large perspective on this aspect of the record.

The seediness behind its making was well reflected in the lyrical matter of the album, at least what lyric sheets tell us because after all these years I still can't recite half of what's said on Exile. I honestly have formed the memory of certain lines out of my own interpretation of what Mick garbles at times. Like any legendary work, Exile contains the ultimate opener in the shape of "Rocks Off," one of the Stones best at that. It involves the sleaze from the get-go, discussing sexual dalliances with a "dancer friend" of Mick's. Keith's snarling "oh yeah" on the opening bars really prepares you for the furious swagger. His riffing hardly ever sounded better than on "Rocks off" while he provides ragged harmony for Mick, singing of the usual themes of sauntering around with lady friends. Full of glorious chestnut lines like "Your mouth don't move but I can hear you speak," and "The sunshine bores the daylights out of me," the cheeky "Rocks Off" is also one of the Stones wittiest, most clever tunes (and what's Mick got for us in recent years? "Sparks will fly/Sharks will cry"? Really, Mick?). It's got a full compliment of guitar, bass, drums, piano and horns, which was becoming the favoured routine for a Stones recording at this point.

The same Keith-characterized rock has its fingerprints all over "Tumbling Dice," the album's biggest hit single. It's a countrified sort of testament to the kind of wildheart rebellion Keith specializes in. It's cocksure stuff but that's the essence of the Stones in their glory days. It's essential listening, one of rock's most moving, honest, fun and multi-layered compositions ever. Its multiple vocal parts are like Beach Boy complexity adapted to gospel. The same rough-hewn passion can be attributed to the horn-dressed "Happy." Keith sings lead on it and it became one of his war badges to wear going forward in live appearances. It's pretty autobiographical material as it were. Keith proclaims that all he needs is love to keep him happy (... yes Keith, but don't neglect to mention all those drugs too, as regular to his diet as water or food in those days). "All Down the Line" is maybe the most energizing song on the album, an orchestra of riffing guitar, sax and trumpet flourishes, Mick's hollered vocals and Charlie Watts' thumping backbeat. It even tops what the Delaney & Bonnie and Friends or Joe Cocker's Mad Dogs and Englishmen tours had done shortly before it, no coincidence since Bobby Keys and Jim Price provided horn sections for both while also being utilized on Exile very nicely.

"All Down the Line" boogies hard, albeit at quite a fast pace. Early takes of the song had it structured in a different key, as more of a country-rock affair with acoustic guitars, sounding not unlike the verses of "Street Fighting Man." The weakest of the four archetypal Stones rockers is the closer, "Soul Survivor," still a dirty and defiant little song and one that emphasizes the Stones restless refusal to give up or flame out. The Stones hit the boogie of the 50s full force on several cuts too, namely the rousing "Rip This Joint" with Keys cutting a rip-roaring sax solo that would rival King Curtis. It's not quite a Chuck Berry takeoff, like most of the Stones own hits, but more of a Little Richard screamer. The heart of this album is really the blues, and what'd you expect from the Rolling Stones anyway? Their cover of Slim Harpo's "Shake Your Hips (Hip Shake)" stands as an underrated, but wholly impressive take on the Mississippi blues. There's gutbucket blues harp, shuffling time kept by Watts's tapping of the drum rims with his sticks and a menacing guitar riff that would later be copped by ZZ Top for "La Grange" but that's fine since Keith copped it from several John Lee Hooker songs anyway.

The song's fade-in makes you feel like you just stepped into a bar and happened upon the magic. Mick's vocals are full of Southern bravado and there's even a bit of sax amongst the crawling snake blues of "Hip Shake." Less white hot are the shuffling "Casino Boogie," the harrowing "Ventilator Blues" (of which Mick Taylor receives a rare songwriting credit) and a Robert Johnson cover, "Stop Breaking Down." The double time of "Turd on the Run" is a chugging track that may just be the most authentic up temp blues you'll hear a rock band do, all done without solos of any kind, proving the Stones as one of the few groups that didn't need instrumental noodling to porve their talents. On the albums before and after Exile, the hot and flashy lead guitar of Taylor is up front and centre but it took a back seat on Exile as any lead licks he got in were usually buried in the mix, if attempted at all or not edited out first. As a result, no matter how the personnel differed from recording to recording, this album feels more like a true collaborative effort than most Stones records. Any heavy overdubbing doesn't show as it all sounds rather organic of the moment. However, the blues does not totally define or even dominate the double disc album.

The Stones dedication to gospel- first flirted with on 1968's "Salt of the Earth" matures on Exile, as well as their foraying into soul. They cut their original mid-60s R&B leanings to shreds as by 1972 it was a well-oiled outfit experienced and comfortable with each other, the Wyman-Watts rhythm section in particular. On Exile, the Stones scored pleasing results by bringing in experienced female backing singers who only enhanced this unholy, yet rewarding marriage between gospel and a hard living rock and roll band- Clydie King, Shirley Matthews and Venetta Fields among those enlisted. Thanks to this comes the incredibly glowing, positive spiritual spotlight of "Shine a Light," as good as any rockers ever captured gospel. Stones confidante Billy Preston was brought in for a divine churchy piano bit that melded beautifully with one of Mick Taylor's few guitar leads on the entire set. Meanwhile, the stirring "Let it Loose" hits on all cylinders like a fantastic ballad Otis Redding never lived to record, standing as a milestone among the Stones more tender avenues of songwriting.

The horn breakdown, the gorgeous Nicky Hopkins piano, the mini-choir (including Mac Rebennack, aka Dr, John), Mick's impassioned vocals and a guitar line from Keith for the ages, plugged in through the Leslie amplifier of the organ. Less based on such Southern rawness is "Loving Cup," which still has more in common with Memphis soul than most Stones cuts. Once again there's the elegant piano of Nicky Hopkins- a talent sorely missed since his death in 1994- this time providing more of a folk flavour. But the groove and the twin horns of Keys and Price really remind you of a vintage Redding song once again, namely in the middle eighth. The Stones had gone for this mood on Sticky Fingers' "I Got the Blues" but came up just a bit empty. Not so with "Loving Cup," another spotlight for some genuinely wonderful lyrics, such as in the chorus ("Gimme little drink from your loving cup/Just one drink and I fall down drunk") plus sometimes those naughty Stones make thinly veiled allusions to sexual intercourse ("But I won't fight you, if you want to push and pull with me all night"). An anomaly is the swampy "I Just Wanna See His Face" not a particularly varied track or a great number in any way other than for the production and arrangement work, which stuns in several ways, first off with a trance-like electric piano groove that later builds up a bit near the end, played by Keith no less.

Mick's vocals are made incomprehensible by mixing, or just because he sang far off from the mike. The backing vocals are also a presence that pushes the song along, as an upright bass played by Bill Plummer (who also played the same on "Rip This Joint") and Charlie hitting the low toms provide a rumbling, spooky bottom. And for a modern twist, the Stones have revisited the Exile sessions for the bonus disc. The teaser currently out there is "Plundered My Soul," which may be too retro to become a top 40 hit, but if 2002's "Don't Stop" managed it, this can too if only rock radio jumps on it. The original track is an outtake but Mick went back over and with a few instrumental touches and a couple of female backing singers, made the necessary overdubs to get it sufficient for inclusion. But happily, it sounds as if Keith's original harmony from 1972 remains. Also, apparently Taylor himself was brought in to provide overdubbed leads just to give it that 1971-72 authenticity.

Ron Wood is the only post-1969 Stone member not heard on the cut, if we're to believe the credits given. It's glossed up but that doesn't take away from "Plundered My Soul," which is perhaps the best Stones single since "Start Me Up." "Plundered My Soul" has even received a music video. It deserves to since it stands out amongst the "new" tracks pulled from the vaults. They all follow the same formula of having overdubs and though this does rob us of the authenticity of the 1971 sessions, it's the best we can hope for. Mick is still a tremendous rock frontman but with age and his latter day cleaner habits, his voice lacks that grit and nasal rasp it used to carry. No big issue is caused by this though. Many of these have floated around on bootlegs for years. There are minor but enjoyable bits that, when stacked up even against the best the Stones offer us now, sparkle in the frame of 2010. What could be deemed average by their 1972 standards is quality insight today. Take "Pass the Wine (Sophia Loren)" for example or the slinky piano blues "I'm Not Signifying" (aka "I Ain't Gonna Lie" on many bootleg collections).

That world-worn, late at night rumination style the Stones were capable of in the early 70s is revived via the quaint "Following the River," a track that may be smooth and easy going but lacks any melodic ideas to consider it a buried treasure of any kind. Also previously unreleased is the earthy but ordinary "Dancing in the Light." The seamier side of the album's blues and country honesty shines through better on "So Divine (Aladdin Story)." There are organic glimpses into the creative process through alternate takes of "Loving Cup," "Soul Survivor," "All Down the Line" and an early incarnation of "Tumbling Dice" called "Good Time Women." One will find "Good Time Women" a boogie extravaganza but nothing too special. But a key change and a true fleshing out of the vocal lines and riffs built it up into a masterpiece out of what originally came off like a more engaging version of their 1969 tune "Country Honk." These early versions show Taylor's guitar was a bit more active than the ones picked for permanent status on the record. The energy is not the same for most, nor is the vocal attack from Mick but these are rough, but pleasant run throughs for sure.

The bonus inclusions are capped off by a modest instrumental called "Title 5," an up-tempo jam with heavy emphasis on chordal boogie, packing a punch that sounds more like the flash and pomp of ZZ Top rather than a Chuck Berry rocker. This is just the tip of the iceberg as Late Night with Jimmy Fallon is dedicating the whole week of May 3-8 to the album by bringing in guests each week to perform a song from the album. Phish, who have several times performed the album in its entirety, are already announced guest for the week. The Stones PR machine is in full working motion, folks, when you see high profile overtures like that made. Credit their long-time manager, native Torontonian Michael Cohl, a man responsible for their record-breaking tours that could fund the Third World! There's even a film about the making of the album and the events surrounding it, called Stones in Exile, set to debut at the Cannes Film Festival. Everything in the works except lunch boxes it would appear. The Stones have learned that when the creative embers aren't glowing, one can always cash in on the prized jewels in the back catalogue.

It appears that Exile, the double album everyone disparaged upon release and said should be a single (common complaint about The White Album too), is being made into quite the cash cow. Nonetheless, the Stones brought the goods to the table since "Plundered My Soul" is a very exciting look into the overhaul. Perhaps the Stones should take that road again and go fix up tracks from the vaults for their next studio record. After all they did that in 1981 and Tattoo Youemerged as the best post-Some Girls album they've ever done. I doubt it would be done since Mick is always one to create new, modern and contemporary fare for the Stones to tour behind. So, if you're a Stones enthusiast or a classic rock lover, then by all means bite into a little rock history and drop the necessary coin for this one. To look at the bonus features, I can say musically they earn a 3.5 star rating, the presentation of the standard 2010 edition deserves a 4.5 star rating. But overall, with the epochal original double LP in tow, this is a five star purchase indeed (I'd give the original Exile a 6 star rating if I could!). You'll be justly rewarded.

Track Listing:

1. Rocks off

2. Rip This Joint

3. Shake Your Hips (Hip Shake)

4. Casino Boogie

5. Tumbling Dice

6. Sweet Virginia

7. Torn and Frayed

8. Sweet Black Angel

9. Loving Cup

10. Happy

11. Turd on the Run

12. Ventilator Blues

13. I Just Want to See His Face

14. Let it Loose

15. All Down the Line

16 Stop Breaking Down

17. Shine a Light

18. Soul Survivor

2010 Edition Bonus Disc:

1. Pass the Wine (Sophia Loren)

2. Plundered My Soul

3. I'm Not Signifying

4. Following the River

5. Dancing in the Light

6. So Divine (Aladdin Story)

7. Loving Cup (Alternate Take)

8. Soul Survivor (Alternate Take)

9. Good Time Women

10. All Down the Line (Alternate Take)

11. Title 5

Rating: 5/5 stars (A+)

Reviews: Jimi Hendrix's "Valleys of Neptune"

First Published in PressPlus1 Online Magazine:

http://www.pressplus1.com/blog/evan+dowbiggin/1859-valleys-of-neptune-another-from-the-seemingly-bottomless-archive-of-jimi-hendrix.html

"Some die too young, some die too old; the precept sounds strange, but die at the right age."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Was Hendrix's death at age 27 the right time for him to go? Ponder that. One can definitely argue — and I tend to do so whenever dragged into the matter — that he was a one-of-a-kind star, destined to burn out before he faded away. I always felt that what the future had in store for Hendrix was never meant to be found out. Those other early casualties? Most just crashed after several years of cheating death in their drug or alcohol stupors.

I guess I couldn't see Jimi ever becoming washed up. Nay, I couldn't stand the idea. It seemed good for a guy as otherworldly as Hendrix to leave the world before his greatness left him. Hey, no one said the road to rock & roll infamy was paved with candy coloured rainbows and marshmallow cobblestones... unless the one going down the road is tripping on acid. No, it's pockmarked by blood, bones, powders, syringes, broken bottles and other unsightly things.

Sure, Jim Morrison had more to give too, but it would've been progressively more dreadful and embarrassing considering his drug and alcohol appetites. And it would've been expected instead of pitied. Hendrix was too important to die, many told themselves, as his passing reverberated with waves of shock.

Jimi was not renowned as a troubled addict like others who dropped dead in his generation of rockers. Jimi was troubled for sure, but by the shackles of being a creative beacon with a tangled up family past as well as by no longer feeling secure in his own skin as a major star. Mr. Hendrix's chemical dependencies marked his undoing, but the now-stereotypical rockstar death of choking on your own vomit hardly seemed like the type of end he deserved. Morrison naked in a bathtub, heart given out from all the abuse it had taken — I find that very fitting. A poet's death, if you will. A drunk, manic shaman poet's death.

But Hendrix should've been in one of those mystical plane crashes like Otis Redding or his future disciple Stevie Ray Vaughn. Ah never mind, this is getting morbid. The bottom line is that when a significant artist flames out before their time, dies in the throes of youthful genius, croaks before he or she can truly deliver a long, healthy prime or full-bodied career, it's a blessing and a curse for that artist and their fans.

The blessing is that the short time span allows that artist to be crystallized as anyone remembers them best, immortalized when they shone brightest. The curse is that the future becomes littered with various parties who were unrelated to the true meat and bones of that legend, all cashing in off that death in a way. Hey, someone has to or the memories would fade into the sands of time!

This all aids in lifting the memory of the deceased icon to near God-like status. Not to mention, the hodgepodge clutter that becomes the discography, where live performance, studio outtakes, radio appearances, backstage jams and anything else within a microphone's radius becomes fair game to put together new albums with.

For nearly four decades, this has been going on with James Marshall Hendrix. No one can say for sure what Hendrix would have done but the immediate future seemed full of possibilities considering his 1970 flirtation with jazz and funk. Personally, I think the disco era and punk/new wave eras would have been a lean time for Hendrix the artist, though as a musician he'd be a guest on everyone's records no doubt.

It's astounding to note that Hendrix's recording career as a solo artist and/or bandleader was less than four years long, though his popularity post-mortem would have you believe he was around for the entire 1960s decade and then some. As everyone knows, Hendrix was a revolutionary of the rock & roll genre, the guitar, and managed to be the first rocker to ever touch what jazz greats had done previously: Be virtuosic/visionary on their instrument and tremendous as a composer to boot.

Hendrix still stands as the John Coltrane of rock. Coltrane is a controversial figure among jazz purists for his "sheets of sound" hysterics on saxophone and complete radical departure from the standard way jazz had been played. Hendrix didn't change contemporary composition or the way rock was approached so much as he changed the sound, by swaying everyone from "At the Hop" Chuck Berry-impersonating to an electrified, cosmic adaptation of Chicago blues guitar stylings.

He wasn't the first to try that but he was the best and most powerful. Jeff Beck and Clapton seemed timid all of a sudden when this guy strutted onto the scene. He did this through his unmatched ideas, talent as well as being the first to take advantage of improved technology in musical gadgetry, including the fuzz box, distortion pedals, wah-wah pedals, high gain amplifiers (including the super charged Marshall stacks) and other inventions. Plus he used the previous taboo of feedback to his advantage.

His detractors called him airheaded, sexist, macho and full of himself. But while he may have been a gypsy hippie intent on dancing with the drug demons and conquering the ladies but as he tried to be Dylan, Albert King, Muddy Waters and Buddy Guy all rolled into one, he struck upon his own unique psychedelic style.

There are plenty of extraordinary guitarists from that time period but Hendrix had something deeper than your average Alvin Lee, Robin Trower or Jimmy Page. He merged black and white music worlds and embraced music as colourless and raceless, though he often struggled with trying not to seem like some sort of Uncle Tom that didn't care about black listening audiences or radical black politics of the time too.

It was impossible to please everyone of course but Jimi tried his best. After he died, his closest comrades in music oversaw a series of new studio releases of backlog material, primarily his long-time drummer Mitch Mitchell and producer/engineer friend Eddie Kramer. Alan Douglas produced several of these 70s albums but he drew heat for overdubbing new parts onto them and essentially producing them alternately from Hendrix's original intent. Contrary to popular belief, the notorious Annual Post-Mortem Release did not start with Tupac.

When legal wrangling over Jimi's estate and recorded works became a simmering pot of troubles, the situation just got greyer for fans. But 1993 finally settled this when Jimi's father Al gained control and rights over his son's likeness, recorded output and artistic license. Via the formation of the company Experience Hendrix, Ltd., the restoration and repairing of Jimi's catalog began and the cottage industry overseeing Jimi's legacy was born too.

Hendrix’s hometown of Seattle attracts tourists with the claim of him as a native son featured in museums and landmarks alike. For him, there have been many albums of "new" material plus live albums, compilations and several official and unofficial bootleg releases. Too numerous to mention, really. Experience Hendrix has managed Jimi's large archive and through a deal for distribution through MCA, before it was bought up by Universal. They did a bang-up job bringing some cohesion to the playing field.

Currently, Sony distributes Jimi's work through their catalog division label Legacy Recordings, the label that works with re-issues and compilations from its vast array of labels it absorbed from business purchases (the legendary companies Columbia, Epic, Sony BMG and RCA Records for example). Of the major Experience Hendrix initiatives to clearing up Jimi's unfinished work, there was 1997's First New Rays of the Rising Sun, an album that was created to be as faithful as possible to a similarly titled album Hendrix was working on when he died in September of 1970. Previously, it had been spread over 3 different LPs released in the early 70s.

Nowadays, very few who were around Hendrix when he was creating are even alive anymore. His managers Chas Chandler and Michael Jeffery, Experience bandmates Mitchell and Noel Redding, and his Band of Gypsys drummer Buddy Miles have all passed on.

When Hendrix's father Al passed away early last decade, the inheritor of Jimi's estate became his stepsister Janice since most of Jimi's blood relatives had died too. But the Hendrix memorial train has kept rolling and this latest release is the most significant plying of his unreleased treasure trove since First Rays.

Now, that 1997 release did the biggest task of revisiting what Jimi had left on the table throughout his last year of life. This one skimps the trash can a bit more. Super dedicated Hendrix fans might own all this anyway while less dedicated fans, me included, are content to have the important releases and nothing but. I'd give this a chance but only for a handful of the selections.

Let's be frank: posthumous discographies are such a nightmare to follow, so it's all one big trial-and-error process anyway. On Valleys of Neptune, there are 12 cuts, 7 of which have never been released elsewhere. Most of the recordings were done at Hendrix's favourite studio, the Record Plant in New York City.

Hendrix's first single in the UK in November 1966 was a cover of the popular folk song of the day "Hey Joe," while its B-side was one of Hendrix's first compositions, "Stone Free." Valleys of Neptune leads off with a 1969 version of that track from a run-through in April, done probably for rehearsal purposes since it was one of the first sessions for the Jimi Hendrix Experience with Billy Cox as bassist instead of the recently departed Noel Redding. It's more noteworthy for having backing vocalists in Roger Chapman, at the time lead singer of the band Family, and a young Andy Fairweather Low.

With such a sparse setting not augmented by the studio mastery one is used to from Hendrix, this isn't one of the better available renditions of "Stone Free." The title track comes up second, proving to be a rather upbeat, cheerful cut that could have been a cut for the Temptations or one of Motown's other harder R&B acts of the time.

Hendrix had a keen ear for soul despite never fully embracing it, having cut his teeth — and not just on the guitars he played — on the Chitlin Circuit, the nickname given the touring locale of the American Southeast. Playing with pickup and bar bands all the way up to gigs with Little Richard and the Isley Brothers gave Hendrix a better background in the music of African-Americans than most would assume right after hearing his white-favoured rock sludge in the late 60s.

The basic track to "Valleys of Neptune" was recorded in September of '69 while Hendrix was still tinkering with the size and personnel of his backing lineup. The disc's lead single, Elmore James' tune "Bleeding Heart," was first heard in Jimi's hands on the 1972 release War Heroes. Here, none of the Alan Douglas overdubbing mars it.

"Bleeding Heart" features fierce half funk/half blues slide work from Hendrix's guitar, though there are a good half dozen blues covers in Hendrix's career that outshine this one. Stemming from an April of '69 session Billy Cox on bass and Rocky Isaacs on drums, "Bleeding Heart" packs the punch one would hope to find in a blues cover by the unmatched Hendrix.

Following this is "Hear My Train a Coming," a Hendrix original that's appeared on several posthumous releases but never showed up on any 45 or LP during his life. Hendrix's ability to convincingly perform the blues on slide guitar and without proficient amounts of volume and distortion is often overlooked, but his musical ability could never be clouded by his taste for wild sounds. "Hear My Train a Coming" is one of the purer blues tracks he ever laid down and one can see how with one listen.

It was when he allowed the effects, pedals and knobs to be turned up that his grasp of electric blues led him tocreate guitar masterpieces such as "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)", compositions so vivid and on the edge that they defy categorization, though they are arguably responsible for influencing funk, hip-hop, metal and various subgenres to come in rock music.

The cheeky "Mr. Bad Luck" is the furthest dated recording this album goes back to, coming from a May 1967 session at Olympic Studios in London and produced by then-manager and former Animals bassist Chandler. "Mr. Bad Luck" would have made a nice B-side, showing an example of the more humorous elements in Jimi's songs and the only one here that features the Experience in their early days before Hendrix's overarching, often difficult creative process that essentially forced out a frustrated Redding.

One of the prime cuts from this album, alas one of the few genuinely great moments, is when we get Hendrix showing Cream how it's done with "Sunshine of Your Love", sans vocals. Clapton wrote that signature song with Hendrix in mind, in effect making it his tribute to the newest guitar God (Clapton having been proclaimed as such just a year earlier by graffiti-scrawlers of London). So it's no fluke, I suppose, that Hendrix found the tune irresistible and perfect for him.

Before Valleys of Neptune, one of the few times anyone ever heard "Sunshine of Your Love" outside of bootleg form was when on British TV he performed an impromptu version during the final credits of Lulu's variety show. He was doing his own "Voodoo Child" when the plan was enacted, leading to the unknowing producers ending the show in mid-performance. Hendrix did this as an homage to Cream in the fall of '68 when their rather stunning breakup was announced.

Jimi tears the song up from its original state, turning "Sunshine of Your Love" into a real Hendrix "fire and dragon" affair that would make Clapton's simmering original sound like his laid back "J.J. Cale Wannabe" period by comparison. Instead of laying on us stuff we could've heard on some other disc, the album goes into "Lover Man", a heavy and downright greasy track that sounds tailor made for the Stevie Ray Vaughn Texas blues of the 80s. Hendrix toyed around with "Lover Man" every now and again but never found a take he was satisfied with. This particular one comes from the same February 1969 session at Olympic that generated the Cream cover.

Another Hendrix-penned rarity comes in the form of "Ships Passing Through the Night." Drawn from his April 1969 sessions booked at the Record Plant, "Ships Passing Through the Night" is a chunky piece of funk that's a good precursor to what Parliament-Funkadelic picked up on not long after.

Where Valleys of Neptune struggles is how little it offers us in genuinely new content. Anything short of hearing a horn and string section behind him would not be a revelation at this juncture. Haven't we, pardon the pun, experienced it all? The overfamiliarity of his repertoire means we're given two more versions of the standard 1967 classics "Fire" and "Red House".

"Red House," the one and only true 12-bar blues number of heartbreak, cheating and despair that Hendrix achieved, is the better of the two. He channels B.B. King so well on the latter, but has his own manner of playing. It's uncanny and when you can tell a guitarist by hearing their soloing, you know it's something timeless.

"Fire" and "Red House" are done in run-throughs with the Experience at the tail end of their existence in February 1969 but it's always a treat to hear "Red House" since Hendrix uses it to veer off into beautiful solos that are rather of the moment thanks to the tune's slow blues tempo, a conducive groove for any guitarists to go nuts without losing the meter at all. And of course Jimi uses such space wisely.

Also culled from April 1969 is the fine instrumental "Lullaby for the Summer," showing vocals were only a small part of the magic Hendrix could create. He often evoked the gospel business of Curtis Mayfield's R&B guitar playing with his group The Impressions. Hendrix admitted Mayfield was a big influence and one can hear him take it to new heights on tracks like this, not to mention the released ones such as "Castles Made of Sand", "The Wind Cries Mary" and "Little Wing."

Often, the lyrics were a weak point on Hendrix compositions, sometimes being brain-fried ramblings of a gyspy bandit, C-grade poet. So to have instrumentals once in a while was no letdown. From the February '69 sessions at Olympic, "Crying Blue Rain" is derived. It's the twelfth and final track but the driest blues yet, a raw "fly on the wall" feature that contains a light drum backing from Mitchell — a great reflection on his jazz chops- and what sounds like Hendrix fingerpicking his guitar part. If all the tracks were as stellar as "Crying Blue Rain," we'd be dealing with a worthy competitor to the shimmering, incomplete, yet expansive First Rays.

But the abundance of songs that have been heard in multiple forms elsewhere hampers Valleys of Neptune. Even if you don't own any Hendrix outside his recognized studio albums as well as that live document Band of Gypsys, you'll be better off going for Live at the Fillmore East or even Live at BBC. The unreleased material is enjoyable and of a passable fidelity, but only Hendrix's devotees are going to be awed by this album.

Some tracks here have me feeling "ho-hum," asking "So what? Didn't we already know all this?" Others are challenging and just barely reach the gold standard for Jimi while the rest are middling to acceptable versions of stuff heard elsewhere a billion times, therefore redundant. Meld it all together and what you get is a B-minus grade (three stars out of five), which is about as generous as I can allow. 'Scuse me while I skip this, guys...

Track Listing:

1. Stone Free

2. Valleys of Neptune

3. Bleeding Heart

4. Hear My Train a Coming

5. Mr. Bad Luck

6. Sunshine of Your Love

7. Lover Man

8. Ships Passing Through the Night

9. Fire

10. Red House

11. Lullaby for the Summer

12. Crying Blue Rain

Rating: 3/5 stars (B-)

Reviews: Peter Gabriel's "Scratch My Back"

First published in Pressplus1 online Magazine:

http://www.pressplus1.com/blog/evan+dowbiggin/1766-cd-review-scratch-my-back-by-peter-gabriel.html

Peter Gabriel tends to make appearances on record, once in a while... when he's ready... sometimes. And that, my friends, is why folks are gearing up for his next studio album with the anticipatory exalt of it being his first real studio record of his in 8 years. The first in a while with vocal performances I should add. But guess what? It's a covers album. Does that burst your bubble? Well it shouldn't. Still, I have to wonder: Is songwriting his part-time job? Apparently. But don't let that fool you because he always provides something essential and innovative each time out, no matter who's doing the writing. Sure he pens as many completed works in a year as Elvis Costello does in an afternoon between tea and lunch, but the guy's a perfectionist. It's been an intermittent solo gig for Gabriel since the 80s ended, as his workload has dwindled to much lighter than what it was during and after his time in Genesis, the band he helped found before leaving in 1974. He started his solo career officially in 1977 with an album slanted to the tastes of arena rock, 70s "prog" and other side trips unthinkable for the modern Peter Gabriel to ever touch (Heavy metal? Cocktail jazz? Barbershop? It's all there on Peter Gabriel- the one with the rainy car window cover). The man behind that first step, Canadian born and based Bob Ezrin, has been a reputed rock producer for years, meanwhile some critics and fans still accuse him of mishandling Gabriel's debut way back when (Gabriel himself grumbled about the treatment of some tunes, notably the apocalyptic opus "Here Comes the Flood"). Nonetheless, Ezrin has been brought back to produce this new release.

Gabriel, in those formative years all by his lonesome, put out a comparatively startling 4 albums in his first 5 years then went four years before the multi-platinum pop breakthrough of 1986's So, although that's if you don't count the soundtrack to Alan Parker's 1984 film Birdy where he created instrumental re-imaginings of some tracks he'd previously done. Another soundtrack arrived in 1989 with Passion, the soundtrack to Martin Scorcese's The Last Temptation of Christ. But aside from that rather beautiful instrumental work, Gabriel didn't have a new tune with a vocal between 1986 and 1992 other than a collaboration with famed Senegalese singer Yousso N'Dour on his own 1989 cut "Shaking the Tree." Then came 1992's Us and Gabriel proved the wait was worth it, although the album didn't transcend the way So did by cutting across all commercial barriers and catching the fancy of critics at the same time. The rest of the 90s saw Gabriel become immersed in the workings of his record label, Real World, which is dedicated to introducing peoples' ears to world music of every variety. He stayed close to his affinity for soundtracks, releasing a document of the live concert for London's Millenium Dome Show in 2000, a record titled OVO. A year later came Long Walk Home: Music from the Rabbit Proof Fence, his third film soundtrack. His true followup to Us was still in the works even though most of it had been completed between 1995 and 1998. Therefore, Gabriel justly earned the reputation of being a slow worker, a meticulous studio dweller who tinkered with albums for years the way some scientists slave to come up with a groundbreaking thesis.

Finally in 2002 came Up- another in a long line of briefly titled records, a flippant and witty reaction to when Geffen Records in the early 80s requested he stop self-titling each of his albums- and with the same font for his name, as if to make each cover one in a continuous series of magazine issues. Supposedly, they requested this in order to avoid confusing the public, therefore Peter has released albums with titles like So, Us, as well as the compilation Hit. Up managed to confuse anyway since it was released the same year as Shania Twain's Up (speaking of artists who wait eons to release their albums!). This was followed by more spellbinding touring behind enchantingly elaborate visual fancies, a trademark of Peter's concert legacy that can have you either scratching your head or with your jaw hanging open in amazement (if you love Cirque De Soleil, then Peter's your kind of musical entertainer). But then came another long silence. Finally Peter has returned but with a new album that's a bold step even for him. Rather than new compositions, Scratch My Back is a collection of 12 covers, compositions stretching back in age as much as 30 years with a few recent ones sprinkled in. The selection of covers cuts a wide swath of tastes and genres by picking from groups with underground/indie cred as well as from fairly well known artists that have been doing their thing even longer than Peter, though he has them beat for his youth when starting out, as Genesis cut their first singles when Gabriel was a 17-year old still in school.

And the caveat is that a companion record called I'll Scratch Yours will feature the artists Gabriel covers doing renditions of of his songs. It's a unique concept to see a "various artists" disc that will no doubt be more relevant and interesting via this tie-in. If you think all this was as out of the ordinary as it gets, well wrap your mind around the radical idea of Gabriel doing these covers with full orchestral backing. Remarkably organic for a Peter Gabriel album, isn't it? The usual cadre of African drummers, exotic percussion, innovative synthesizers, production tricks and longtime bassist Tony Levin's unique drumstick bass, is absent from Scratch My Back. Gabriel uses a hushed vocal a majority of the time on the opener, a cover of David Bowie's "Heroes," slowed to a crawl with a church organ as the main chordal structure. It turns what was a theatrical, vivid, dramatic portrayal of a lover's tryst by the Berlin Wall into more of an elegy, a sort of elegiac state of pondering like slowing down the moment for reflection. This isn't the greatest, most mesmerizing adaptation one will hear of "Heroes," but to find Gabriel re-inventing it the way he did his own "Here Comes the Flood" in 1990- which went from overproduced apex of hard rock to forlorn piano ballad in a sort of anti-climactic way- is a curious thing to behold. Taking Bowie's hyperkinetic melancholy and replacing it with the sort of hush that Arcade Fire excels in is a risky move that doesn't fully pay off.

Paul Simon's "The Boy in the Bubble," which opened his legendary Graceland album, has much the same transformation engineered on it, turning into some sort of picturesque Randy Newman piece, instead of the bubbling African-Zydeco that Simon first shaped it as. Gabriel's soothed, hoarse voice is one that I often don't find at its best when singing soft compositions or ballads, but he really hasn't used it for shouting and barking in a long time. And though that's his prerogative, I do miss the bite behind tunes like "Modern Love," "And Through the Wire" and "Red Rain." So I suppose his careful, silent manipulating of this one is a bit more boring than bristling, which sags the album a bit. But luckily, more interesting is the third selection, Elbow's "Mirrorball." Here Gabriel has the song paced by the meditative loop of an organ as the string parts build over it with warmth and precision. It's not too far off from the music box chiming of Elbow's original, a sure harkening back to Gabriel's days in Genesis itself. Elbow is the British "alternative" rock group forgotten in the mix thanks to crossover successes like Coldplay, Radiohead and Keane. But in recent years, their struggle to be acknowledged even in their homeland was eventually overcome and they've become recognized as contenders to Radiohead's supremacy and Gabriel's cover is another sign of gratitude and interest from a long-standing, respected artist. Where the two previous cuts were uncertain adaptions of pieces that didn't seem to carry the right aura for Gabriel, "Mirrorball" is right up his alley.

Ethereal chamber music is struck upon with "Flume," a track first done by critical darlings Bon Iver. The ultra sensitive and forest-friendly folk of Iver's Justin Vernon doesn't necessarily get ingested by me like a fine wine, the way it does for others, but Gabriel hits a more earthy quality with his rendition and I appreciate it in the end. We finally get Peter shooting into his upper register vocally too. Piano comes back as the basis for chords on "Flume" and the horn parts can easily remind anyone of the humanist beauty that symphonic winds can express. "Listening Wind," a cut off the Talking Heads monumental 1980 record Remain in Light, never fully takes off the ground though. This cover carries plenty of nervous energy and mystery, though not nearly the kind that the Heads did with their eerie reggae sort of post-punk, enlivened by Brian Eno's method of creating melody around electronics. The original "Listening Wind" had an atmosphere nearly replicated by several tracks off of the next Gabriel album to come after Remain in Light, 1982's Security. The jungle soundscapes of "The Rhythm of the Heat" and "Lay Your Hands on Me" paralleled a lot of what David Byrne was exploring with world music sounds on his own, with Eno and with his band. So the two seem like kindred spirits on opposite sides of the Atlantic and slightly different wavelengths (i.e. Byrne is much weirder). How Byrne approaches his Gabriel cover of choice will be highly anticipated by me- I say Byrne because the rest of the Heads are estranged from him therefore no full band participation is expected.

Fear not though, because Peter does hit shining moments at times on this album, namely with a cover of "The Power of the Heart," a yet to be formally released Lou Reed composition that he has performed live several times. It's one of Reed's more pure and devoted love songs, no doubt inspired by the experimental conceptual artist-cum-musician Laurie Anderson, his wife of a couple years now. Layering piano and horns onto what's another good old primitive but deep effort from Reed brings out some more tenderness and melody where there maybe wasn't before. Gabriel meets the criteria for giving it his own spin and earns my kudos for that- though not too much charity considering the slight failure of two other tracks to this point. This highlight of the LP makes for good and highly deserved exposure for one of Lou's best ballads in years, a sensational thing to see from an old wrinkly rocker aging gracefully with maturity who's still alive despite a 1970s rife with drug-induced decadence and debaucher- a legacy that Gabriel's never had to shake off, thank goodness. Staying current, PG does Arcade Fire's "My Body is a Cage" from their 2007 opus, Neon Bible. If only prog rock in Genesis's era had been less self-absorbed and less self-centredly narcissistic, then it would have resembled Arcade Fire. And that would've been a monumental good thing, as Devo once proclaimed. The chilling final cut on their most recent studio album is taken on by Gabriel in a subdued manner.

Peter prefers to keep it more bottled up, less ferociously tense than Win Butler, he being one never too shy to go for a little melodrama if you didn't already know. That approach works in that it makes "My Body is a Cage" into a more seductive and holy piece, rather than the intermittently angry and paranoid version Arcade Fire produced. With "The Book of Love," the first single chosen from the album, Gabriel gets a little more energetic, so as not to lull listeners into a false sense of sleep or some other coma-like state where classical overtones can fatigue more than perk up the mind. The Magnetic Fields' original is not dense either, but prefers to be a sort of bluegrass-meets-the-coffeehouse creation that's about as unique as you'll find in the music scene today, and that's because it dates back to 1999. But then again, there was nothing like this in 1999 either, except for maybe that lovable Jonathan Richman, a long practicer of capturing geeky angst and lovelorn feelings into parlour hall tunes since he arrived in the early 70s. Magnetic Fields frontman Stephen Merritt does indeed remind one of Richman, the marked difference being in mood as Merritt's a real downer in his blue state of mind and is an openly gay singer-songwriter, not a hilarious Bostonian who's perpetually, but winningly, adolescent at heart like Richman. By choosing to cover "The Book of Love," Gabriel chooses wisely and I find this recording to be a deserved lead single. And here I was thinking it was going to be a cover of that doo-wop classic by the Monotones. Now THAT would have been neat to see Peter manage.

My earlier reference to Gabriel making a Randy Newman pastiche out of "The Boy in the Bubble" comes back into relevancy thanks to Gabriel's own try at "I Think it's Going to Rain Today." Newman, himself a very sparse producer of full-out studio albums ever since his Hollywood priorities took precedence in the 80s, often can write bitterly caustic and genuinely funny character studies, full of piss and vinegar but with a deep understanding of humankind and, as this song describes, the odd showing of "human kindness." Once in a while, amidst the commentary and Allan Sherman levels of satire, Newman can pull out a serious piano ballad like "I Think it's Going to Rain Today." The more heavy stuff is what's distinguished Newman as a highly sought after film composer in fact (Toy Storyand The Natural being just the most well known of his towering catalogue of scores). Mind you, this particular number dates back very far in his pop songwriting career, appearing on his self-titled debut in 1968 and being covered to death afterward. The fact he was in his early 20s when he wrote it shows he never outgrew or lost his knack for lovely torch songs. Rather uneventfully, Gabriel goes for a near Xerox of "I Think it's Going to Rain Today." At least Joe Cocker tried to make it a soulful rave-up, even if that didn't fully connect. While Gabriel uses his own way of singing in a hushed voice (think back to 1992's "Washing of the Water" or 1978's "Mother of Violence"), it's still too much like Newman's original.

Newman could be a defining influence behind this album's 100% orchestral style, given the fact he's put orchestral arrangements behind his piano forever, completely in lockstep with his family's line of work. He is a singer-songwriter Gabriel has taken after for a long time now, since he became a big admirer of him in the late 60s. But here, Gabriel is essentially trying to find more artistic fertile ground in a mine that Newman already drilled through. Therefore, it seem almost too perfect for Gabriel to be doing this cover- too expected, if you will. A little female appreciation is finally given out with a cover of Regina Spektor's 2006 composition "Apres Moi." Spektor's indie pop style, buoyed by the advantage she carries in her extensive piano training, makes it one of those affecting singer-songwriter ditties you often hear from sources such as Feist or Fiona Apple. The quirkiness of indie pop, even the stuff that never makes it to top 40 radio, is not my favourite contemporary development, as usually I find that field to be too cutesy/smart/artsy and knowingly hipster for its own good. Not all of it is this way, just a lot of what I hear. But Gabriel allows for some creative chamber music to be his backing and therefore "Apres Moi" is one of the standout cuts that sticks its head above the majority of the pack and, dare I say it, improves on Spektor's original?

Moving on, Gabriel harkens back to a more long-standing singer-songwriter with Neil Young who, for all his well-known compositions, is a hell of an underrated writer of gorgeous piano ballads too, even if he's more simplistic and wears his heart on his sleeve far more often than Newman. This skill of Young's stretches as far back as "After the Gold Rush" from 1969-70 or as recently as "The Way" from 2007. Neil's 1993 contribution to the Oscar-nominated film Philadelphia was the esteemed title track, becoming the veritable theme of the movie even if Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia" got all the pub and ultimately the golden statuette. But "Philadelphia" is a tune that perfectly captured the sadness and human tragedy of AIDS, without ever directly mentioning it (its only literal reference to the movie's plot being the line "City of brotherly love/Don't turn your back on me/I don't want to be alone"). Such is the power of song: To never lyrically address an issue but still hit the nail on the head. Jonathan Demme, a friend of Neil's dating back to the music videos he directed for him in the 80s, better have been thanking his lucky stars for knowing Neil and getting that tremendous effort out of him. Supposedly, he was expecting a couple juiced up rockers about the hardships of life in the big city when you're dying from AIDS and carrying that stigma of not being a real man, being homosexual, etc. Instead, he got a grade A tearjerker. That being said, Gabriel's version is a disappointment. It's the only true lead balloon, opting to give a key change that just doesn't work and paves the way for this "Philadelphia" to resemble corny, mawkish soundtrack sap.

Yes, Peter's version doesn't really work much at all, which is too bad since the tune can be very touching when done properly, as evidenced by its inclusion in the final credits of Demme's film. Gabriel finally finds a pocket he can work out of by trying on Radiohead for size, specifically "Street Spirit (Fade Out)." It's not as if the 1995 original wasn't fatalistic and black itself, but with spare horns and funereal piano, he brings it down a few notches lower in dynamics, all without losing any of the hopeless void that Thom Yorke stewed up back in 1995. This "Street Spirit" redeems some of the more yawn-inducing moments from earlier in the album. Overall, Scratch My Back contains many moments of gorgeous, soft-bracing music with that classical spin you don't get to hear too much anymore. But Gabriel fails to convincingly deliver several of the tracks and despite the concept, it's not the artistic slam dunk one would hope for. Yet, taking many of these songs out of their element and giving them the subtle, silent treatment is a brave step for Gabriel as he seemingly tries to emulate Randy Newman only with the more artful, English sensibilities one has come to expect out of him all these years. Ever the progressive artist, this seems oddly natural and unpretentious for Gabriel, unless you find all classical melding with contemporary to be totally self-inflated regalia and snootiness (I don't... unless we're talking about Electric Light Orchestra).

It remains to be seen how I'll Scratch Yours will stand up to this disc- in some ways I look forward to that one more, since it has 12 different artists on tap. At least Peter Gabriel is bothering to release a studio album instead of staying preoccupied with Real World, soundtracks, interactive projects, etc. Scratch My Back will soon be available in his native United Kingdom, but North Americans have to wait a few more weeks (see release info at the top). In summary: Far from great, far from mediocre. I give it a slight chance that non-fans could be swayed by checking this out, but I suggest it'd be better for them to start with his earlier material to get accustomed to the man and his music. Oh and by the way, he's still perfecting his next album of original compositions, to be titled I/O. Hmmm, that one should be ready by about 2012 if past events are any indication.

Track Listing (Artist Being Covered):

1. Heroes (David Bowie)

2. Boy in the Bubble (Paul Simon)

3. Mirrorball (Elbow)

4. Flume (Bon Iver)

5. Listening Wind (Talking Heads)

6. The Power of the Heart (Lou Reed)

7. My Body is a Cage (Arcade Fire)

8. The Book of Love (The Magnetic Fields)

9. I Think it's Going to Rain Today (Randy Newman)

10. Apres Moi (Regina Spektor)

11. Philadelphia (Neil Young)

12. Street Spirit (Fade Out) (Radiohead)

Rating: 3.5/5 stars (B)