In terms of musical culture, the Roman calendar could not accurately document when the 70’s turned into the 80’s. The explosion of experimentalism that ran through rock, jazz and pop during the latter part of the 60’s morphed into strange and not always so wonderful things in the two ensuing decades: it was almost as if many artists wanted to work directly contrary to the often profound creations that came before and chose rather to emulate the most faddish commercial aesthetic(s) possible. Still, there were those artists who confronted that stance, often in marked contrast to their previous efforts, offering work that’s still worth listening to (and reissuing on compact disc) today.
Robin Trower/Twice Removed From Yesterday (Iconoclassic): It’s a measure of the widespread grief music lovers and guitar-hero worshippers felt at the loss of Jimi Hendrix that Robin Trower’s solo albums, even with only superficial similarities to the late icon’s work, struck such a resonant chord. But it’s not just the tremolo-drenched atmospherics such as that which dominates this debut album that made Trower’s records worth hearing: the throaty vocals of Jim Dewar are truly soulful, while former Procol Harum-mate Matthew Fisher’s production made the most of the stripped down three-piece sound Trower and company sculptured. Only the follow-up to this album (Bridge of Sighs) surpassed it and that’s debatable.
Lou Reed/ Legendary Hearts; New Sensations (Iconoclassic): The front-man of the Velvet Underground had adopted a truly sparse recording approach just before these two albums came out. On The Blue Mask, Reed fronted a skeletal two guitars, bass and drums alignment that continued on Legendary Hearts, but “Rooftop Garden” notwithstanding, the quotient of positive personal expression was way down on its successor: “Don’t Talk to Me About Work” and “Turn Out the Light” signify times of duress, not content. And the pure sound of the band doesn’t take precedence: there is not enough instrumental improvisation to create and sustain a memorable mood.
For New Sensations, Reed took a different tack altogether, opting for lighthearted, catchy pop (“I Love You Suzanne” and “My Red Joystick”) in which he reveled in irony even more deeply than on all his previous work put together (if that’s possible). Lo and behold, the detached approach worked, on its own terms and as a means of transcending his previous David Bowie productions, proving in sum that Lou could work successfully as his own man, without any debt to his history.
The Guess Who: So Long, Bannatyne; Rockin’ (Iconoclassic): The Guess Who had already trounced any notion of themselves as one-hit wonders long before co-found Randy Bachman left the group to form his (BT) Overdrive. Still, for ex-partner Burton Cummings to enlist new recruits for the band and allow them as much creative input as he did in making their later studio albums was brave to say the least. Vindication was the singer/ keyboardists’, however, as each long-player boasted its own hits (“Rain Dance,” “Heartbroken Bopper”).
Even the balance of the selections compared favorably throughout the respective titles too: "Rockin’" lives up to its title, while Bannatyne displays an admirable ambition without sacrificing the band’s pop smarts. Perhaps more than any of these Iconoclassics releases, the label’s re-mastering, not to mention the inclusion of bonus tracks plus expanded liner notes and graphics benefits these two titles, legitimizing the work of a band that carried on years after these albums were originally released in 1971 and 1972 respectively.
