supersoul

Before judging an album or the shouts of the nippo-bitch as unbearable, an album should be listened to, unless one possesses the prescience of Christopher Walken in "The Dead Zone" by David Cronenberg. I wonder how many of those who have judged it actually listened to it and didn't just vote out of bias against the nippo-bitch or to be present.

Regarding the cover, honestly, I wouldn't know if it was copied from Jethro or vice versa, but it seems to me that both have drawn inspiration from the back cover of Volunteers by Jefferson Airplane in '69, which in turn copied Pete Seeger from 1961.

Well, Lennon on Debaser is really unfortunate, skatarris honored those who killed him, now here Yoko Ono is a shitty nipponese who should have died in the Fukushima plant... apart from Yoko and aside from the fact that the album is a double with the second part Live unlistenable, it seems to me that there were some beautiful tracks on the studio record, and they were well played, with Jim Keltner on drums and Klaus Voormann on bass, plus Elephant's Memory as the support band. Besides the excellent "Woman..", I remember a "Sunday Bloody Sunday" that was comefromtogetherized from which U2 would copy the drum intro along with the title, a stunning rocky "New York City" with a related electric solo, the blues "John Sinclair" where Lennon plays a National, the folk ballad “The luck of the Irish" where Yoko Ono shines like Sandy Denny. In short, considering it was kind of an album reflecting Lennon’s political worries as he wandered around with a Mao Tse badge on his shirt (and what were the neomccarthyists supposed to think?), it’s not exactly a piece of junk if you eliminate the second vinyl of the time.

What an album... maybe they stole the idea from BS&T (and Guercio was the producer of both), but this record is exceptional. Besides Kath, Danny Seraphine's drumming is fantastic; just check out the version of I'm a man, it's downright Santan-esque.

For me, this album was a big disappointment considering the razor-sharp guitars of the great debut "Mommy's Little Monster." After all, making money with a band like the one on their first record wasn't easy, so a major label like Epic cleaned them up with a nice, flat production and a back cover photo that makes them look like the protagonists of Grease. In my opinion, if they had continued with an indie approach, the result would have been less flat, because a song like "So Far Away," played dirty, would have resonated more. But then there are boring tracks like "Ball and Chain" and "Sick Boys," which feel more like Stray Cats material than Social Distortion.

I'm sorry, but I have never seen this "final observation of the fundamental importance of values within society" in Peckinpah; in fact, Sam never wanted to investigate society but rather the individual. Here (and in "The Wild Bunch") he explores two things: how to grow old and how to die. The sheriff (Joel McCrea) strongly reminds me of the one in "No Country for Old Men," where everything around changes and the times are no longer the heroic ones of the past—there are camels! cars! Chinese restaurants!—and this sheriff still wants to uphold the law. The epic of the West is in shambles, and these two old men, alone, need woolen underwear and don't even have a scrap of affection to care for them when they wet themselves (while the one in "No Country for Old Men" had a wife). They only have mutual assistance (even moral in the beautiful ending) between two elderly survivors of this grinding, transforming society.

Before calling themselves Opal, Roback and Kendra were known as Clay Allison, and under that name they released only one EP, the aforementioned "Fell from the Sun." The second EP was "Northern Line," but already under the name Opal. The B-side of this EP features "Soul Giver," which would later appear on their first actual full-length album that, as Odradek says, is "Happy Nightmare Baby" (exceptional). This collection represents the more acoustic side of Opal.

...and Robin Simon is still playing for us with John Foxx...

I liked the review, but I agree with imasoulman: Ultravox is divided by an exclamation mark, those with Foxx produced by Eno, which were charged with tension and ahead of their time, and the commercial ones with the pompous melodramatic atmospheres of Midge Ure, who came from ridiculous experiences like the Rich Kids singing about the ghost of the prince in the tower. Songs like "Vienna" give me this ridiculous impression compared to gems like "Hiroshima mon amour" and "The man who dies everyday."

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