10cc was a fine studio band, but its live outing, "Live and Let Live," is a bit of a disaster, according to Goldmine's Dave Thompson. U.K. Records publicity photo.

By Dave Thompson

David Bowie’s 1978 European tour was not a glorious affair. First, he butchered his image — baggy pants and skewed sailor hat are never a good look, even if you are the chameleon of rock.

Then he butchered his songs. When your last two studio albums were semi-impenetrable slabs of Krautrock-inspired instrumental meanderings, the last thing you want to do is sing “Suffragette City.” And it showed.

And then, when he realized that the mini-Zigs in the audience were still having a good time, he butchered the live album that was supposed to document the occasion.

Out went the one truly inspired performance of the entire show, a dissolute swagger through Brecht and Weill’s “Alabama Song.” Out went whatever internal logic had dictated the original set list, as he realigned the songs in loose chronological order. And finally, out went the audience, and, although he still had the temerity to title the ensuing double album “Stage,” he could just as easily have titled it “Me and My Mates Mucking About In An Empty Room.” Because that is what it sounded like.

Live albums are a curious phenomenon. On the one hand, their purpose is simple — to offer audiences a takeaway taste of a singular occasion, and a chance to relive a concert in the less-sweaty surroundings of their own home. And on the other, they are a shop window for the as-yet-unconverted, a chance to show the doubters what an act is really made of.

To this, you could also add the less salubrious reasons for releasing one: running down an old record contract (“you still owe us three albums” or “my next one’s a triple live”); filling a creative void (“I’ve not written a decent song in three years; I’d better dig out the old ones again”); and, beat bootleggers to the punch (at least, that was the reasoning behind some of the best live albums of the early 1970s). Famously, The Stones’ “Get Yer Ya-Yas Out” and The Who’s “Live At Leeds” were both official responses to ultra-popular bootleg discs, while Dylan and The Band’s “Before The Flood” was so titled because they hoped it would be in the stores before the flood of souvenir boots.

Then something happened.

“Frampton Comes Alive” happened. And long before it had chalked up even a fraction of the 10 or 11 million copies it inexplicably went on to sell in the USA alone, every band on the planet was suddenly rolling the tapes and then redubbing the solos (and the vocals, and the drums, and the bass), in the hope that Frampers-shaped lightning might strike them as well. Suddenly, what had been a comfortable cottage industry of megastars rewarding their fans for being faithful became as much of a marketing gimmick as anything else that the mid-1970s could conceive, from 12-inch singles to picture discs, and on to the free razor-blade-sharpening cardboard pyramid that came free with Todd Rundgren’s first Utopia album. (I am not making this stuff up.)

Live albums changed overnight. In the past, live albums were an event. For a band to even dream of cutting one, they needed to have attained a certain level, whether of popularity, acclaim or simply critical kudos. The disc itself might still have been a stopgap between regular releases, but there had to be a meaningful gap that needed to be stopped. Now, they were inevitable. The modern mantra of “I tour, therefore I release a live album” was born here.

Double live albums, too, had been rare (triples even rarer, but beyond the proggy circles trod by the likes of Yes and ELP, nobody really took that amount of time to play a handful of songs in those days). Now, they were de rigueur.

And lousy, horrible, please-don’t-ever-make-me-listen-to-that-drum-solo-again live albums could be counted off one by one: The Stones’ “Got Live If You Want It” (1966), with the screaming audience seemingly captured at twice the volume of the band itself; The Kinks’ “Live at Kelvin Hall” (1967), where the equally irritating screaming was matched only by the sheer ineptitude of the performance (never record a concert if you can’t actually hear yourselves play) and, surprisingly, because it should actually have been a lot of fun, the Plastic Ono Band’s “Live Peace In Toronto.” Side One — Lennon and friends jam some old rock ’n’ roll standards. Side Two — Lennon and friends watch Yoko writhe in a bag. Yeah, maybe you had to be there.

Personally, I always thought Dylan’s “Before The Flood” was a slapdash affair, as well, wasting wax and electricity that would have been far better saved for 1976’s “Hard Rain.” But the world’s favorite septuagenarian had far worse in store, if only you stuck with his career long enough. “Real Live” (1985) was real boring, and “Dylan and the Dead” (1989) suggested Dylan was dead, and in those last months before “Oh Mercy,” maybe he was. But to single out Dylan as a serial purveyor of dodgy concert recordings is to overlook the contributions made to the genre by far less forgivable souls than he. 10cc, for example. Irreproachable geniuses in the studio, even they admitted that their live show left a lot to be desired unless you came from that peculiarly American Midwestern school of “When in doubt, muthas, boogie.” But “Live and Let Live” (1977) caught the boys throwing caution to the wind regardless, and it emerged almost defiantly unlistenable.

So, three years later, did the first live offering by the one U.S. band whose studio perfectionism matched 10cc’s. How could anybody even have imagined that an Eagles live album (“Eagles Live”) would be a good idea?

In 1977, The Rolling Stones followed up their most divisive studio album yet, the love-it-or-hate-it “Black And Blue,” with a double live set that actually made up your mind for you; “Love You Live” wasn’t simply a flaccid run through of a bunch of songs that were already well past their sell-by date. It suggested that the Stones themselves knew it, which is why they gave one entire side over to a semi-secret club date where they went back and played the blues. And that is the side that people still play today. The rest of the disc is filed away as a gruesome prophecy of the future that awaited Mick and the gang, who now seem to release a new live album every time they leave the house. It has yet to be confirmed, but “Keith Pops Out To Buy Some Cigarettes” (2009) is earmarked for release next summer.

We could go on. Any live disc The Who has released since they stopped being a band and turned into a pension-renewal scheme can be safely discarded. Likewise for 90 percent of the coasters that bore the dread Unplugged logo; seriously, if you really needed to hear Bon Jovi play without an electrical supply, you could just unplug the CD player.

Led Zeppelin’s “The Song Remains The Same” (1976) disappointed on release and, that admittedly stellar “Stairway To Heaven” notwithstanding, still creaks out loud today. While we probably shouldn’t poke fun at archive releases that were actually blocked by their creators during their own musical lifetime, The Beatles’ “Live at Hollywood Bowl” takes a lot of beating in the “Dear Santa, I hate you” thank-you letter stakes.

But if there is any one live album that, more than any other, advocates the immediate incarceration not only of the band that made it, but also of every single person in the room who encouraged them while they were doing so, it is — the one that you, the Goldmine readership, nominate. So, get going! Drop us an e-mail at goldminemag@fwmedia.com, or leave a comment below.

Sid Griffin
“Shelter From The Storm: Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Years”
Jawbone Books, ISBN 978-1-906002-27-5
Paperback, 256 pages, $19.95

With Dylan’s 1974 opus “Blood On The Tracks” universally regarded as his greatest LP, at least of his post-”Blonde on Blonde” career, any attempt to chronicle his career in its aftermath has to begin in that shadow. Yet there’s an alternative way of thinking that aligns “Blood On The Tracks” not with rebirth, but with a death of sorts.

It marked the end of Dylan as a purely self-propelled machine and his awakening as a social animal, one whose choice of musicians and methods of working stepped away from the insularity that hallmarked his first 12 years of recording and into a new world of regular bandmates (as opposed to the regularity of The Band), nonstop touring and increasingly esoteric albums. And if “Desire,” the record that inaugurated this era, is to be considered the true apex of Dylan’s ’70s-and-beyond output, then the Rolling Thunder tour that accompanied it marks one of the highlights of his entire on-the-road life.

“Shelter From The Storm” is the story of that tour … another story, in fact, following the now-classic, in-person accounts by Larry Sloman and Sam Shepard. Drawing from the recollections of sundry players, but more tellingly built around author Griffin’s own knowledge of and thoughts about Dylan, it is the kind of book that sends you scurrying to your music collection in search of your cache of period bootlegs to listen to while you read.

A scrapbook of fascinating literary ephemera appears — a cassette tape that Roger McGuinn left rolling on the tour bus, capturing the conversations taking place around him. A scene-by-scene breakdown of the four-hour Renaldo and Clara tour movie (with Griffin playing editor and suggesting the scenes that should be cut in order to render the film a more viewer-friendly length); an almost frame-by-frame recounting of the NBC TV special that wrapped up the tour; and song by song accounts of the most memorable shows.

There’s a close eye focused on the recording of “Desire,” a discography of related recordings and a veritable storm of information that will keep the reader entranced for hours. In fact, the only real criticism is that Griffin’s writing takes the entire period a lot more seriously than Dylan seemed to. Replay “Desire” and rewatch the movie, and Dylan probably laughs and smiles more there than he had in the decade beforehand. Even the photos here don’t capture that.

— Dave Thompson

What’s on your want list? We want to know! Whether you’ve got a line on these records or want to share your own list, send an e-mail to goldminemag@fwmedia.com, or write to us at Goldmine, Attention: Most Wanted Stories, 700 E. State St., Iola, WI 54990.

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1. JULIANA HATFIELD would be at the very top of my  want list. Specifically, I’m looking for a clean copy of the (unauthorized) recording titled “GOD’S FOOT.” I’ve always loved Juliana’s music, and that’s one of her records that has been eluding me for quite some time now.
2.  TALKING HEADS — “Talking Heads Live on Tour” (1979) Warner Bros. Music Show
3.   TALKING HEADS — “Puzzlin’ Evidence” (1986 Promo Label)
4.  BOB DYLAN — “Great White Wonder”
5.  BEATLES — “Watching Rainbows”

— Gary Kahn, Michigan

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JOHN LENNON original ( and not a re-release of John & Yoko’s green vinyl single) “Happy Xmas (War Is Over)” is on my Want List, as it was our Johnny’s 70th birthday last October and 30 years since we lost him.

— Paul, via e-mail

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I’m very much into mono pressings of records made at the time mono was being phased out. My top 5 finds reflect this.
1. THE MONKEES — “The Birds, The Bees & the Monkees.”
2. THE DOORS — “Strange Days.” As I have the mono pressing of their first, I need this one to complement it.
3. JEFFERSON AIRPLANE  — “After Bathing at Baxter’s.” OK, so I have the Sundazed re-pressing … I still need the RCA original.
4. THE BEATLES — “Magical Mystery Tour.” I bought the mono pressing when it came out in 1967. I lost it in 1975. I haven’t had it since.
5. THE MOODY BLUES — “Days of Future Passed” The album cover says it should exist, but I’ve never seen one. Being a Moodys fan, if it does exist, I want it.

— Frank, via e-mail

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As a long-standing collector of THE MONKEES records and the Colgems label in general, the holy grail for me has been the original U.S. mono version of “The Birds, the Bees and the Monkees.” Although I currently have digital copies of this album, which were sent to me by other record-collecting enthusiasts, I have never physically even seen the U.S. mono version of this recording, even though I know it exists. Years ago, I bought the U.K. mono version of this LP, but, alas, it features mono tracks, but from the stereo source. I have looked far and wide for the U.S. mono, but I haven’t come up with it yet. And I don’t know if I ever will.

— Larry Lapka, longtime subscriber, via e-mail

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1. BOB DYLAN — “Highway 61 Revisited” This is considered the best album Bob Dylan created. I found only one Dylan album “Bringing it All Back Home.” I have been searching for years, and there are not a lot of Dylan albums out there.

2. THE BEATLES — ”Yellow Submarine” Considered the weakest of The Beatles albums, but I have all the others and this would complete my collection. Because this wasn’t a big seller, I guess there were not a lot sold and therefore not a lot to find.

3. THE ROLLING STONES — “Their Satanic Majesties Request” Also considered the weakest of The Rolling Stones’ offerings. I have not been able to find a copy for one reason or another. This album was a real style-changer, and I would like to experience it!

4. JOHN LENNON — “Plastic Ono Band.” The debut single of John Lennon. Like Beatles albums, this is very collectible and hard to find a vinyl copy in good condition.

5. ROYAL GUARDSMEN — “Snoopy and his Friends” This album by the Royal Guardsmen is a guilty pleasure. The other albums are a more serious nature, and this is just for fun, what a record should be! Never found a copy of this album, period.

6. “A Christmas Gift for You from Philles Records” This is an album of Christmas songs, produced by Phil Spector (just in case Santa is watching.) This album came out at the same time that John Kennedy was killed, and I don’t think too many people were in the Christmas mood, making it particularly hard to find.

— Dave Sherman, Georgia

Why fight about what it is?…it’s all music…it’s all magical

By Phill Marder

(As promised last time, this exciting episode explores the definition of Rock & Roll)

Like me, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is far from perfect.

I know, I know. Hard to believe.

For starters, it should have been and still should be designated the Rock Era Hall of Fame. That way, when Abba, Madonna, Bob Marley, Miles Davis and countless others were inducted, there could be no screaming, ” They’re not Rock & Roll,” as if anyone can provide the definitive definition of Rock & Roll in the first place.

Ironically, the variety of music provided by the Hall of Fame inductees is one of the nominating committee’s crowning achievements. For while I can’t tell you what Rock & Roll is anymore than anyone else, I can tell you it’s not as limited as some of you like to believe. Rock & roll is not just two guitars, bass and drums, though that may be the trunk of the Rock tree, and the Hall of Fame recognizes that. The trunk yes, but many branches have developed as the Rock Era years have gone by.

Buried deep below the surface are the roots, Country and Blues. The branches? Everything else. So don’t tell me The Moody Blues aren’t Rock & Roll. And the Commodores aren’t Rock & Roll. And Yes isn’t Rock & Roll. And Donna Summer isn’t Rock & Roll.

As John Sebastian sang in the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Do You Believe In Magic?,” “don’t bother to choose, it’s jugband music or rhythm & blues.” You’re right, Eric, it’s all meat from the same bone.

It’s Buddy Holly doing “Rave On,” then turning around to do “True Love Ways” or “It Doesn’t Matter Anymore.” It’s Elvis snarling “Hound Dog,” then doing “It’s Now Or Never.” It’s Fats Domino pounding out “Blue Monday,” then weaving “Walkin’ To New Orleans” in and out of the string section. It’s Ricky Nelson releasing two-sided hits that paired opposites such as “Just A Little Too Much” and “Sweeter Than You.”

Did Roy Orbison become a rock & roll star singing “Ooby Dooby” or such symphonic mini-operas such as “Running Scared,” “Crying” and “In Dreams”? Who was the real Eddie Cochran, the one who gave us “Somethin’ Else” or “Sittin’ In The Balcony”? Who was the real Gene Vincent, he of “Dance To The Bop” or “Wear My Ring”?

Were the Everly Brothers those of “Bye Bye Love” or “Devoted To You”? Was James Brown not symphonic in “Try Me” or “It’s A Man’s World.”? How about Ray Charles? Have you ever listened to the album “Ingredients In A Recipe For Soul”? Was Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me” closer to Donovan’s “Lalena” or AC/DC’s “Back In Black”? Or Bobby Darin – “Queen of the Hop” or “Mack The Knife?”

How about Jackie Wilson belting out “All My Love” or “Night”? Was Jackie Wilson not rock & roll? The Skyliners “Since I Don’t Have You” and “This I Swear,” two of the greatest ballads in the history of rock & roll…not rock & roll? For that matter, I could name almost any ballad that has become a rock & roll standard, “At Last” by Etta James, “It’s Just A Matter Of Time” by Brook Benton, for instance. Not Rock & Roll?

How about anything by rock’s greatest ’50s vocal group, The Platters. Not rock & roll?

Two different looks of Rock & Roll from two of the greatest groups, The Platters, the masters of the ballad, & The Beatles, the masters…period

Consider this album: Side 1 – 1. Till There Was You; 2. And I Love Her; 3. She’s Leaving Home; 4. Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill; 5. Eleanor Rigby; 6. Julia; 7. Martha My Dear.

Side 2 – 1. Fool On The Hill; 2. Honey Pie; 3. When I’m 64; 4. If I Fell; 5. Yesterday; 6. You Know My Name, Look Up The Number; 7. Good Night

If that had been the only album you ever heard by the greatest band of the Rock Era, would you have called them a Rock & Roll band? And I could have turned it into a full four-disc box set.

The Beatles are a four-piece band that played rock & roll. Because they were so versatile, they could change instrumentation, style, mood, whatever you want to call it, to give us an unbelievable variety of fantastic music. Was it all rock & roll? I think yes. Was “As Tears Go By” or “Backstreet Girl” not rock & roll? They were great cuts written and recorded by what many consider the “greatest rock & roll band of all.”

Brian Wilson gave us some of the most beautiful music ever written. Was he and his group not rock & roll?

Where some bands would emphasize their “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” side and sprinkle in the occasional “As Tears Go By,” some bands go the opposite route, emphasizing the “Nights In White Satin” style while sprinkling in “I’m Just A Singer In A Rock & Roll Band” or “Question.”

And I could go on and on, which most of you would say I usually do.

I can’t pretend to know the definition of Rock & Roll. But I was there from the beginning. Actually, I must admit, before the beginning. I had a collection of 78s which I played on an old wind-the-crank phonograph, so I was into Perry Como, Jo Stafford, Hank Williams etc. before the “big bang.” Then I got a paper route – actually two – for the prime purpose of having money to purchase the latest 45s, the first three of which were “All Shook Up,” “Blue Monday” and “Mama Look At Bubu.” And I ended up delivering the bad news on the doorstep.

Still, I was the Northern kid who said, “But I will” every time the record store stocked a new yellow Sun 45.

Take my first three 45s as an example of what I’m blabbing about. “Blue Monday,” a driving rocker by Fats Domino, was backed by “What’s The Reason I’m Not Pleasing You,” which also became a hit. “What’s The Reason” was originally a hit for Guy Lombardo in 1935 and Fats’ entire catalog is sprinkled with remakes of old standards. If Fats wasn’t Rock & Roll, who was? Elvis’ “All Shook Up” also was a two-sided hit, the flip being the quiet “That’s When Your Heartaches Begin,” written in 1937 and recorded by the Ink Spots in 1941. Elvis…”The King of Rock & Roll.”

Harry Belafonte was one of the biggest superstars of the early Rock era

The third became a No. 11 record by the superstar Harry Belafonte whose genes were provided by his Jamaican mother and West Indian father. In the style of what was then known as calypso, many today would not classify it as rock & roll but the chalypso was one of early rock’s most popular dances and it fit “Mama Look At Bubu” perfectly. Belafonte also had other major hits, “Jamaica Farewell” and today’s ballpark favorite “Banana Boat,” more commonly known as “Day-O.”

Twenty years before Bob Marley and just as much a star, why isn’t Belafonte accorded the same rock & roll respect? Only because those alive at Rock’s outset, when Belafonte was cranking out hits, are few and far between today. If “Mama Look At Bubu” doesn’t fit your definition of Rock, then reggae shouldn’t either. But both, chalypso and reggae, are branches of the Rock Era tree. By the way, the flip, a soft ballad entitled “Don’t Ever Love Me,” also charted, then returned four years later as the Arthur Lyman instrumental, “Yellow Bird,” which rose all the way to No. 4.

Which brings us to the conclusion. Can I tell you what “Rock & Roll” is? No chance. The best I can come up with is “music released since 1955 that appeals to young people.” Some young people find Metallica appealing, some like Dionne Warwick. Some love Eminem, others Linda Ronstadt. Some like The Association, and some, yes, The Velvet Underground. Some love Bob Dylan acoustic, some love Bob Dylan electric.

And some, me for instance, love all of it … practically.

Having been there from the start, when the radio played Little Richard followed by Johnny Horton followed by Paul Anka followed by Jerry Lee, I was exposed to every form of what was simply known then as Rock & Roll and, fortunately for me, I kept my ears open as the years passed or else I would have missed a lot of great music no matter what name you wanted to give it.

Why listen to the Moody Blues or The Commodores and try to fit them into a category? The Moody Blues, Procol Harum and other progressive groups such as Yes, Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Pink Floyd, King Crimson, Gentle Giant, Rush…you get the picture…are simply bands expanding the boundaries of Rock as far as they are capable of doing. Groups such as The Commodores, Earth, Wind & Fire, Sly & The Family Stone and others simply follow the lead of Brown, Wilson, Cooke et al. They’re just different branches of the same tree.

Little Richard rocks…and so does Emerson, Lake & Palmer

It’s not Rock & Roll if you confine the definition to something that approaches “Keep A Knockin’,’ but it is rock & roll if your definition encompasses “Keep A Knockin’” as well as “My Special Angel,” “Dark Side Of The Moon” and “(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party).”

So applaud the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this time. Their choices leave much room for debate – and, in case you haven’t noticed, no one has ranted more incessantly about them than yours truly – but give credit where credit is due. The Hall of Fame recognizes the great diversity making up what is known as Rock & Roll. It can be The Red Hot Chili Peppers. It can be Chaka Khan. It can be Eric B. & Rakim. It can be Heart.

Those who were there at the beginning will tell you the strict categorization came later. When it started, it all was just Rock & Roll. When the new 45 by Elvis or Connie Francis or The Drifters came out, only one question was asked…

Is it fast or slow?