7. Radio Kings: Money Road (1998): The Blues Is Alive (Part 2)

One of the best things about popular music from a fan's viewpoint is its abundance. Just when you thought you knew most of the names worth to know, somebody comes along and widens your horizon. Today this is easy - just lean back and browse Spotify - but back in the good old days my favourite way of finding something new was to go to the library and pick up something I didn't know.

That's how I found Radio Kings - an American white boy blues band, who apparently have recorded at least one more album alongside this one, but who never quite made the big time as far as I know. Their relative obscurity cannot be explained by a lack of quality - this album has all the most inportant traits to make it into a favourite. A good singer, adequate players as far as I can judge, good and varying tunes (which isn't a given thing in the world of contemporary blues) and a nice, lively and breathing sound palate.

Three of the songs have a special place in my heart; the slow blues "My Day Of Reckoning (Has Finally Come)", which combines a forceful vocal with quite fresh chord and melody lines, the rolling midtempo starter "I Can't Win", which is another tour de force for singer/harpist Brian Templeton - a man with a blues voice and presence in the Kim Wilson/Sugar Ray Norcia mode, and "The Shelf"; another slow blues, perhaps a bit more conventional, but which has well written and eloquent lyrics on the theme of being cast aside.

That doesn't mean that the rest is filler. As I write this, I'm listening to "Money In Her Pocket", an easy-rolling midtempo number built on Templeton's voice and harp - all ingredients are traditional, but the mix is fresh. The overall feeling of this album is that it by and large avoids the clichés of the genre, the band has a pleasantly warm yet firm sound, the solos are kept in moderate fashion, and the tunes are great examples of how the blues is so much more than twelve bars of whining about lost love and opportunities.

On the other hand, as the world looks today, it's no wonder that the blues is alive and well...

6. Robert Cray: Shame + A Sin (1993): The Blues Is Alive And It's Got A Lot Of Soul

I like the blues, its' minor keys and the feeling of cleansing when listening to it or singing it. And I like soul, its' beat and passion. And when these two are combined and performed in a suitably modern yet timeless fashion, respecting the tradition but trusting your own vision, it makes for some of the best music I know.

And for the past thirty or so years, one of the beacons of this kind of music has been Robert Cray. He did not invent the genre, but time after time he has come up with some of the most compelling blue sounds of their time. He has evidently been able to gain a recognition and following that many of his peers were denied. And he has made a pile of great records, among which this one is my biggest favourite.

"Shame + A Sin" highlights all of his strengths. He is a great singer - partly because he knows his limits and stays within them, but mostly because his voice is both warm and expressive within its understated delivery. He is one of my favourite guitarists, both because of his appealing tone and becuase he also knows when not to play. And he and his bandmates write great songs, combining lyrics that often deal with traditional themes of the blues with a contemporary twist and tunes that don't let the boundaries of traditional blues constrain them - and these elements meet in arrangements that are both light and tight, suited for both sunlight and darkness.

There are many tunes I love on this record. The ominous "Leave Well Enough Alone" with its distinctive bassline, the classic slow "Passing By", the Waitsily rolling "Stay Go", the atmospheric "I Shiver", the driving "Some Pain, Some Shame" - in fact every song on this album has some quirk or detail of its own that makes it stand out in some sense. And even though the tempos are varied, and the arrangements feature tasteful keys and touches of horns added to the traditional trio, the album makes for a distinct entity as well.

And when the last sounds of the quietly dramatic closer "Up And Down" fade away, you can choose either to press the replay button for some more of that sweet sound - or to pick another of his great albums, from "Bad Influence" and "Strong Persuader" from the 80s, the follow-up to this album "Some Rainy Morning" from the 90s, the slightly modernized "Time Will Tell" from the oughties, or the rejuvenated "Nothin' But Love" from a few years back. Or any other one of his albums, if truth be told; blues that's very much alive and full of soul.

PS. This album isn't on Spotify - hence I can only offer a teaser, I Shiver, from his Definitive Collection. All the more reason, then, to secure a copy of the album :)

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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A Life-long Romance With Good Popular Music

Ten years ago I started raving about my favourite albums in a brand new blog, Maailman paras levy. To this day, I have written about 385 albums - and compiled a list of my favourite song and LP for every year from 1965 (the year of my birth) to 2015. It's been fun, and a way to rediscover old favourites as well as to rant about new ones, but admittedly I'm starting to repeat myself - there are only so many clichés for describing a good record, after all.

Still, this is something I want to keep on doing - but in order to keep up my motivation and stay relevant, I need to up my game a bit.

• Firstly, even though there still are lots of records to write about on my shelves, I doubt if I can maintain a steady flow of new entries - and looking back on some of my earliest posts, I also notice there are at least some records that I see (or hear) in a different light today than I did back then. So those of you who may want to read the full story will have to check back as well...
• And secondly, I have noticed that some of the visits to my blog come from countries where Finnish isn't a major language (which actually means all of the world outside Finland...). That doesn't mean that I'll be abandoning Finnish music - or Swedish, for that matter - even though readers in English wouldn't be familiar with the records and artists I write about. In a best-case scenario, I might even introduce someone to sounds they have never even known they were missing...

Therefore, I'm starting anew - tracking back and revisiting music that has lightened up my way during the last ten years, while also looking out for new favourites to rant and rave about. Incidentally, this December I also celebrate the 40th anniversary of buying my first record; I did have some cassettes before 1978, but they don't really count. My record collecting urge - first vinyl, then also CD, making no priorities among formats - started 40 years ago, and shows no sign of shrinking.

Another thing that just keeps on growing is my love for popular music - I've long ago realized that it's a life-long journey. If you wish, you are most welcome to join me.

4. Millie Jackson: Caught Up (1974): Touched By The Voice

"Ooh, baby… come to me and I'll show you what mama/papa can do... Oh yeah..." Or then "Move your body, sweat with me. Huh! Shake your booty to the beat"... You might argue that much of soul music is quite instrumental - and not as in non-vocal but as in being a means to achieve an end - and therefore, it might not suit every mood or situation. Why lean back on your couch when you feel the beat? What happens if you, say, are driving your car through nasty weather and suddenly Millie Jackson's voice begins its plea for love? And while these outbursts of emotion may be quite intense, they rarely carry the length of an album.

In my opinion, these questions are beside the point. What matters in music is, at the end of the day, the feeling it contains and conveys - and almost nowhere is that feeling as tangible as in Millie Jackson's voice, a dark alto approaching the force of nature, making my spine tingle with every listen. Especially when it's carried on the superb arrangements on her best records. Which are quite intense, but still manage to spellbind for the length of a good half an hour at a time.

"Caught Up" is perhaps the pinnacle of her recording career. Her previous records are great as well (and I might come back to them later), but this record is more than a collection of great sogs - it is actually a story as well. The story of the other woman, the third wheel - not uncommon in soul music, and seldom executed as well as here.

The opening "(If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Want To Be Right" is a stunning three-piece suite with her trademark rap in the middle, totalling up a bit beyond the ten-minute mark but still working all the way through. The album is filled with great performances - "All I Want Is A Fighting Chance" and "It's All Over Bar The Shouting" up the tempo a bit, and make the most out of the horn-string interplay that, layered over a good beat, is the essence of soul, whereas the last track, "Summer (The First Time)" is a tender tale of coming of age in the physical sense - and growing up to realities later in life. Somehow, perhaps because of the narrative, or because she has the habit of rapping in between, these songs and this album sound very personal and have an eerie sense of presence.

And if you like this album, the previous ones are treats as well. The dramatic "Child Of God" from her eponymous debut may be one of the vocal interpretations of all time, while "I Cry" and "Hypocrisy" from her second album are prime examples of the social conscience of soul music, dressed in that irresistible early 70's sound that for instance can be found on many Stax albums (Millie wasn't a Stax artist, though). I'm not that familiar with her later stuff, but I would buy any album of hers released up to, say, 1982 without a second thought - touched by the voice.

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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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