14. Deep Purple: Perfect Strangers (1984): The Return Of The Dinosaur

When this album came out, it felt like one of the most important musical events in my life up to that day. Having found the classic Purple on my own, then ommersed myself into Whitesnake and Rainbow, the actual comeback of my favourite band in its’ most revered lineup after a ten-year hiatus was like a dream come true. Such occurrences often end up in disappointment, of course – not so this time. I felt ”Perfect Strangers” actually summed up all that was good in hard rock – fine songs, well and distinctly arranged and executed, with a great singer on top.

In retrospect, much of the above seems funny. Between 1984 and today, almost everyone has made at least one comeback – even if most or all original members would be dead, as it feels – and many of those comebacks have been resounding flops. Ten years without a new record (actually nine, if you count from ”Come Taste The Band”, or eleven, if you go back to ”Who Do We Think We Are”) is not unusual even for working bands. And some aspects of ”Perfect Strangers” actually feel a bit dated – especially the sound, that is distinctly eighties in its’ ”tinniness” – but it’s still a great record from a great band.

Especially the B-side is classic stuff. I will never tire of the song sequence ”Perfect Strangers”-”A Gypsy´s Kiss”-”Wasted Sunsets”-”Hungry Daze” – The riff of the title track, which is a showcase for Jon Lord’s organ wizardry and Ritchie Blackmore’s love of classical music, and Gillan’s passionate vocals, make for one of their greatest hymns, then one of Purple’s most dynamic fast tracks, this too more Lordly driven, to their perhaps most beautiful ballad, where Gillan again shines against one of Blackmore’s greatest solos, and the closer which features another killer riff.

The A-side is good too, but somehow more workmanlike in its’ approach to hard rock. That doesn’t mean that it’s bad or even mediocre – ”Mean Streak” rolls along at a convincing speed, ”Knocking At Your Back Door” is majestic, and the other two tracks are at least decent as well. All through the album you can hear the one feature of Deep Purple, which to me sets them a few steps above most other heavier rock groups: Their ear for nuances and distinct arrangements – it’s loud but it’s varied.

In the 35 (!) years that have passed since their comeback, Purple have witnessed comebacks from almost everyone that ever split up in the first place, while carrying on themselves in one form or another. The recent lineup, fuelled by Steve Morse on guitar – who is my favourite among those that have graced the band, but that’s another story – and Don Airey as New Lord, have been working for nigh on twenty years now, and in fact made some of the best records in Purple history.

10. Billy Bremner: Bash! (1984): The Man With The Voice - The Third Rock In The Pile

Rockpile never got round to make more than one album under the band name, but I reckon I have more than albums of good music in my collection, made by one or more members of the group. Nick Lowe heads the pack in numbers, Dave Edmunds takes second place, but this Billy Bremner album (one of two I own) just may be the best of them all. His later catalogue, much of it recorded in Sweden with Swedish musicians, may sound a bit tired to my ears - but not so this gem.

I like the sheer power and rolling ease of the band, the production that sounds natural for 1984 - a little Rockpile, perhaps a touch of Squeeze, and I like the songs. Some of them may be rather average, but most have a clear hit potential. Most of all I like his voice - its warm yet powerful, at best it kind of soars above the music like a bird, without losing any of its grit and earthiness. Ah, I can't find the right words for what makes it so good - you have to dig out the album and listen for yourselves.

Among the musical highlights I especially want to mention the Elvis Costello-penned matrimonial drama "Shatterproof", the amusing Drifters-wordplay pastiche "Tired And Emotional (And Probably Drunk)", the nostalgically wistful "The Boat That's Sunk A Thousand Ships" and "Losing My Touch" - especially the latter one is a great showcase for that voice. And it has to be said, that most of the songs sound like they were written just for him - those long vowels that he can wrap himself around to great effect - but on the other hand, the style and soundscape are varied enough to make this a perfect pop record anyway, covering a lot of styles but tying them together in one entity.

Thirtyfive years later, the man is still active - in fact, he played in two of my hometowns just a month ago, but I was of course abroad just then - but nothing he has done since this album measures up to what he came up with here and as a member of Rockpile. To add insult to injury, my own copy, bought straight upon its release, is the only actual copy of this album I have ever seen. I know that it's been re-released on CD, and you can find it on Spotify - and I would love to see more people boast and brag about having it. So if you find a copy somewhere, buy it at once! 

9. Rockpile: Seconds Of Pleasure (1980): Fine Fine Fine

My first encounter with the fine gentlemen in the group Rockpile must have been seeing them in the Concerts for Kampuchea show, then buying the soundtrack and realizing that the Beatles weren't the only band around relying on more than one brilliant singer/player/somgwriter - and all of this resulted in "Seconds Of Pleasure" becoming one of the first records I even bought quite soon after its release. I remember being a bit underwhelmed at first listen, but also that repeated play made me recognize and appreciate the fineries that filled this splendid helping of rock music.

What's so good about it, then? Well, the playing is plain delicious - the wacka-wacka of the guitars, the relentless drive of Terry Williams' drums, the sometimes slighly quirky yet always swinging arrangements. The singing is also a treat - Dave Edmunds is a good rock singer, yet only my third choice in this line-up behind the more melancholy and versatile pipes of Nick Lowe and above all the spine-tinglingly soaring voice of Billy Bremner at his best.

And the songs are simply great - from basic fast numbers like "Teacher Teacher" and "Fool Too Long" and the spectacular "Heart" and "(You Ain't Nothing But) Fine Fine Fine", ornamented by Billy's vocals, to the clever wordplay of "When I Write The Book" and the heartfelt "Now And Always". There are no two songs alike, yet the album is a distinctive entity as a whole. As a bonus, the twelve tunes clock in at classic album length, somewhere aroung the 36 minute mark. No chance to ge bored - rather, short and sharp enough to be spun another round on the fly.

Rockpile never got round to releasing another album as an official band - but I soon learned there was plenty of music to be found involving the same gentlemen, and at least two more albums that in practice were Rockpile even though they were released as solo efforts. I will get back to those at another time - for now, I'll pick this album off the shelf and play it another time.
And BTW, this is one of the hidden gems you can't find on Spotify. Buy it instead!

5. The Beatles: Rubber Soul (1965): Not A Track Too Much

My first eight albums were made by the Beatles - and the first one I ever bought was "Rubber Soul". This happened in December, 1978, so my romance with this LP has been going on for 40 years - and I still count it as one of the best pop albums ever made. It was recorded at a stage when the four young men from Liverpool had perfected the art of the two-and-a-half-minute pop song, but not yet succumbed to the lure of gurus and such, so in a way it represents the pinnacle of their career for me, and it is the most timeless of their albums.

In 1965, albums weren't thought of as artistic entities; rather, they were put out when there was enough stuff to fill the sides, and questions such as choice and sequencing of tracks were less important. The Beatles had good songs in abundance; they released more than 30 tracks in 1965 alone, a good number of which were self-penned originals to boot. Against this background "Rubber Soul" stands out even more - in my opinion it is one of the most brilliant collections of pop ever released.

There are the hits, of course - the romantic "Michelle", the Greek-flavoured "Girl", the feast of well-synchronised vocals that is "Nowhere Man", the Sharp "Drive My Car" and the atmospheric "Norwegian Wood". Each one of these songs is a classic in its own right, but they don't stand out on the album. In my ears, there are just as many album tracks worth mentioning: The ominously driving "Run For Your Life" - whose lyrics sound quite off today, so not all of the album has aged brilliantly - the soulful "The Word", the early Harrison-penned gem of "Think For Yourself", the majestically flowing "You Won't See Me".

The true crown of the record, though, is "Wait". This song has many of the hallmarks of a Beatles classic - the great melody, the well-arranged and -sounding vocals, the small hooks like the tambourine in the breaks, and the dynamic - in short, it's a song that many a group would have given an arm and a guitarist for, but the Fab Four could hide it somewhere on the flipside.

All over the record there are small pleasures like unusual instruments - starting from the sitar, but so far only in a supporting role, and Paul's lovely basslines, the vocals, of course - and the undisputed fact that there's a new, good song every three minutes, all different from each other but still parts of an unmistakable entity; the Beatles managed, at this stage, to sound personal and varied yet distinct. That, for me, is the formula for the perfect pop album; there's not a track too much - something that some of their later albums didn't match, great though they were.

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3. John Hiatt: Bring The Family (1987): The Script For A Perfect Album

John Hiatt is one of the rather small group of musicians, whose new albums usually are major events in my musical calendar. He's been making records for more than forty years, I joined his following back in 1985 with "Warming Up To The Ice Age" - and got completely hooked two years later when he released this gem.

The goodness begins with the band. Nick Lowe on bass, Ry Cooder on guitar and Jim Keltner on drums makes for a setup that few white guys can match; together with John himself on the occasional piano they create a sound that's tight yet light, powerful yet gentle, and that rocks and soothes depending on the setting. Listening to the clear and natural sound it's hard to believe it was recorded in 1987 - a year when most music sounded as if coming from a tin. Add to that his gravelly yet tender voice, and a set of songs that belong to the best ever assembled, and you have a keeper.

In a world that feels more superficial by the day, John Hiatt's songcraft feels like a slice of real life with all its joys and sorrows, and nowhere is the feeling as strong as on this album. The desolation of "Alone In The Dark", the rocking swagger of "Memphis In The Meantime" and "Thing Called Love", - which surely is one of his most covered songs, the sheer joy of "Thank You Girl", the tangible anguish of loss and failure of "Tip Of My Tongue" - and I haven't gotten to my favourite ones yet.

"Lipstick Sunset" is one of the most perfect weepers I have ever heard, from the heartfelt vocals to Ry Cooder's magnificent slide - it gives me goosebumps. "Have A Little Faith In Me" is one of the more effective prayers I know, without being aimed at any deity. "Stood Up" is all of six minutes of confession, a walk through a life of choices made and consequences lived through - and just when you thought it cannot get any better, he delivers the stellar "Learning How To Love You", which simply put is one of the best love songs I have ever come across. John's voice, framed by acoustic guitar and the precious backup vocals of Nick Lowe, makes for a breathtaking final.

John Hiatt put out this album after a quite rough patch in his life - dealing with his own addiction and the suicide of his wife, as well as the small problem of failing sales and a cut recording deal, and in hindsight it may perhaps be seen as a reason for the outpour of emotion in these songs - even though I didn't know these details when I was first knocked out by this album at the tender age of 22. What strikes me, even after having learned some of the background, is the amount of hope and joy in these tracks, no matter what blows life had dealt him.

All this makes for one of the best popular music recordings I know - something close to the script for a perfect album.

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2. Thin Lizzy: Johnny The Fox (1976): The Pinnacle Of Romantic Hard Rock

Thin Lizzy belongs to my all time favorite bands, mostly because Philip Lynott for me is the greatest songwriter in hard rock as well as one of the most personal and charismatic singers - a rocker with a soul, no less. Beginning with "Jailbreak" in 1976 through "Black Rose" three years later, they put out one of the best strings of albums I know, and my favourite among this set of knockouts is its second installment, "Johnny The Fox".

Why is it so good? Well, I started off with Phil Lynott. His way of combining words and melody into something recognizable and appealing has few matches - he could mix the Celtic and the funky with the hard rock base, and he is the closest thing to a poet within the genre - raw or romantic, tender or threatening - and quite often all of these. And his voice was the perfect vehicle - in later years you could hear the hard life taking its toll, but in 1976, his alter ego Johnny the Fox was still on top of things, as evident by the album title - even though you might argue that the lyrics of the album foretell his downfall.

And the band was the other part of the story. I'm no expert, but I like his bass lines as well - and when it comes to rock drummers, there are few that can reach the level of Brian Downey. Add to that he classic twin guitar lines of Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson, also creators of quite a number of instantly memorable riffs, and the mix is complete.

As for the songs, not every track is a killer - but the opener, "Johnny" kicks off with one of the funkiest riffs in hard rock - up to this - whereas the hit single, "Don't Believe A Word", is all of two minutes and 20 seconds pure gold - including another killer riff, a classic macho rock'n'roll storyline, and a real ending without any fades. This is one of precious few musical pieces that in fact could have gone on for another minute, in contrast to the myriads of five-minute tracks that could have been cut at 3:30...

The title track, "Johnny The Fox Meets Jimmy The Weed", steals the funk badge for hard rock for keeps, "Massacre" is one of the classic Lizzy twin guitar soarers, and "Boogie Woogie Dance" is, well, unique. I must confess that one or two of the slower tracks veer a little towards the over-sentimental, but "Old Flame" is indeed a showcase for lamenting lost love - and besides, the crying in your beer (or in seven as in "Borderline"), kind of comes with the role.

So, in my books this is a classic rock album - and also an exercise in not overdoing it; the ten tracks clock in at a little over 36 minutes, which really is close to the optimal long play format. If you want more, play it again - that's what I tend to do.

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