Now THIS is good. Not only did Hawkwind still have Lemmy, but they went and got ex-High Tidesman Simon House and incorporated fiddle and Mellotron (YAY!) into their already voluminous wall of sound. The spacy whooshiness of DOREMI FASOL LATIDO morphed into a more 70s proggish atmosphere- -probably inevitible given the new instrumentation and Zeitgeist (heh heh)- -which served the band well. Some of the Hawkers' best material is here: Nik Turner's 'D-Rider', Lemmy's own pre-Motorhead 'Lost Johnny' and the stunning, live seven-minute hooter 'You'd Better Believe It', the title of which is probably good advice coming as it does from the ragged throat of Mr. Kilmister. The bonus tracks aren't absolutely essential (the mediocre live 'It's So Easy' was the B-Side to a tragically truncated 'You'd Better Believe It') but still nice to have around, and some of the tracks ('Psychedelic Warlords', 'Paradox') lumber on longer than they really need to. But the Hawkwind of the 70s never strived for economy anyway, and anything worth doing is worth over-doing, eh? Besides, the shorter instrumental tracks, especially House's title track, make up for it. Play this back-to-back (or side-by-side) with 1975's WARRIOR ON THE EDGE OF TIME and see what happens.

Kurt does not live. Nirvana did not change the world. If they had, this disc would not exist just in time for the Christmas rush and no one would be making scads of money from its sales. It is a fairly comprehensive selection from almost the entirety of Nirvana's brief existence. The hits (the evergreen 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'; 'Come As You Are') are of course righfully included, as are several lesser-known and not-too-hard-to-find tracks. If you do not already have any Nirvana this is an excellent place to start, and quite possibly stop. The liner notes are pretty informative, too, and the packaging is attractively, if dutifully, stark and somber. Guess you can't really go wrong with this one, but it would have been nice if tracks from, say, the early Sub-Pop EP were included. The CD clocks in at only 50 minutes, which leaves much room for improvement.

Incredible. The chronological order of the playlist is interesting, too. There is a substantial difference between Elvis' pre- and post-army stint which renders the entire collection a sort of before-and-after aura. That said, the collection is astonishing. The inclusion of 'His Latest Flame' makes it worthwhile in itself, and the hilarious 'Return To Sender' remains a hoot. And if the BPM version of 'A Little Less Conversation' smacks of into-the-new-century exploitation, well, Elvis probably would have wanted it that way. In any case it's awesome. The sound is excellent and the remixes don't detract from the original versions one iota; in fact in most cases they intensify what was already great to begin with (a rare occurence elsewhere). Detractors, of whom there will be many, might argue that this is all overkill- -do we need yet another Elvis collection? Maybe not, and they probably don't want to like Elvis anyway. But this isn't really for us or them. Like it or not, Elvis is into the next generation and the world can only be better for it. He was, and is, one of the few greats. Big hunk 'o burnin' love.

This is mostly just awful, the nadir of the Bee Gees' remarkable catalogue. They knew what they were doing in the wake of the astonishing Saturday Night Fever, all right. The packaging gives it away: blow-dried, cynical and slick. As they stand, in wind-blown silhouette against the raging crimson sky, are those really their SHORTS (no pun intended, ever) peeking from between their presumably hairy legs?? Talk about bathos. As for the actual music, only the wonderful 'Tragedy' which leads the suspicious pack is really worthy of the Bee Gees' incredible canon; the rest is mostly filler. Two other tracks stand out as well, but hey- -we're speaking relatively here. The title track and the funky 'Search, Find' provide a mild one-two punch midway through the dreck. Elsewhere, the overweening vapidity of the hits 'Too Much Heaven' and 'Love You Inside And Out' belies whatever creativity informs the arch production; that they were hits at all says a lot about marketing and the state of commercial radio in the beleaguered 70s- -and whose fault was that? I love these guys, and I know they had to get this stuff out of their system, but thank the Helium God they began losing the balloons over the next few releases. Probably started wearing long pants again, too. 5 stars, just because. Boogie on.

Not bad, really, at all, and it's nice to know Fripp has found his sense of irony. This particular incarnation of Crimson- -hand-picked by Fripp, of course- -had all but disbanded by the time the tour on which this was recorded had even begun. You can tell. Boz Burrell, Ian Wallace and Mel Collins were headed to join Alexis Korner shortly to record an album as Snape, so they had no worries (Fripp was outnumbered anyway). Most of these tracks were encores, and as the band was nonexistent- -that is, not any longer Fripp's- -the three decided to just have as good a time as possible to get through it all. It seems they succeeded. 'Schizoid Man' is about as intense as things can get (very), and on 'Peoria' and 'Earthbound' you can practically hear Fripp cringing as the rest of the band just says 'what the hey' and does their own thing whether he likes it or not: hence the funky, bluesy extended jams and Burrell's strutting lyrics to 'Peoria', which Fripp no doubt took personally as he guested in his own band. Very interesting. The dodgy sound and weird segues fit perfectly and lend a very appropriately scuzzy aura to the whole affair. Awesome. I like it, you might not.

Great cover--one of their best, along with MARS HOTEL and BLUES FOR ALLAH. Also one of the Dead's looser-sounding albums, which is saying a lot indeed. Any reservations about 'What's Become Of The Baby' being too weird or experimental are rendered redundant due to the fact that much of what Jerry Garcia sings is pretty inscrutable anyway--he just carries it a little further this time, and takes the band along with him. The Dead's willingness to experiment was unavoidable; they probably didn't even know they were experimenting. Other outstanding track: the brilliant acoustic death-ode 'Mountains Of The Moon', a laconic summons from the Other Side.

Let's see, now. . .a modern-day and presumably German college grad (Jamie)- -bored, spoiled and uncertain as to his future- -accidentally self-induces backward time-travel (his father's "hare-brained scheme") to France and convinces a young 14th-century mademoiselle (Jeanne) to smoke a joint with him ("lots of my friends smoke it"). So far, so good. But then, incredibly, he is thrown into Jeanne's father's prison and escapes via a (zany) magician's spell back to the 20th century- -just in time to avoid certain death in her father's imperial army! The album concludes on an even more romantic note with Jamie's touching lament at the tragic loss of his new-found, redeeming love, who has been forced to remain with her rich family back in the Dark Ages- -forever to be deprived of his 20th-century enlightenment (and joints). All of this over mostly guitar-driven, riff-happy, semi-progressive rock with some rather tasty keyboard passages and a vocalist sounding suspiciously like a constricted Ian Anderson. Definitely a product of its, uh, time. Oddly, the best track on the album is 'Love Over Six Centuries', which contains the spoken-word passage between the two young lovers as they partoke. It's nice and atmospheric- -just try to ignore what the two are actually saying. But I guess I've already spoiled that for you.

My girlfriend's daughter dismisses this as 'hillbilly music' and I agree. I also consider it a compliment of the highest order. As produced by Dave Anderle and Glyn Johns (Eagles, Austin's Marc Benno and a host of others) it does have a certain studiofied sheen to it but there is no denying the Daredevils' earthy muse. 'Country Girl' manages to be both wistful and joyous at the same time ("we'd set on a cloud and cry out loud 'til tomorrow is yesterday") and 'Road To Glory', with its sustained-vibrato fiddle, subtle piano and high-and-lonesome harmonica, soars right off the road and off the map. 'Chicken Train' is as whimsical as its title and 'If You Wanna Get To Heaven' (by the way, what the hell is a 'weird' radio?) is a statement of intent. 'Colorado Song' is as expansive as its title demands and 'Spaceship Orion' picks up where 'Road To Glory' soars off. This is country music in the best sense. It ain't country-rock. It ain't progressive country, whatever that is or was. And it sure ain't country-western. Country without the western, maybe. Yep, there's still beauty in that river. It's eclectic and it's organic. It's from 1973 and it's beautiful and it's timeless.

This functions today mainly as artifact- -a relic, if you will. I don't know how it sounded then, but today it sounds like a Spinal-Tap type satire of stoned-60's trendy culture. It's hard to believe it was intended as satire way back then; to believe that you would also have to believe that CJ and Co. supported LBJ and his expansion of US involvement in the Vietnam civil war after all ('Superbird') and that Joe was merely making fun of 'Grace' (i.e., Slick). Okay, so it hasn't dated well, and the best track (the countrified 'Sad And Lonely Times') also happens to sound the most like a throwaway. It's fun, though, in the same way that lava lamps and dayglo posters are (not were). Really- -hearing Joe prayerfully invoke LSD in 'Bass Strings' is amusing in a kitschy way, as is David Cohen's cheesy organ throughout (thank the gods on High it wasn't a Mellotron). By the time ol' Joe reverently intones 'I love you' to Grace to close it all off, though, you just might wish he had written it all in a letter.

Of the two albums presented here SCHWINGUNGEN (it means "vibrations" or "oscillations" if anyone asks) gets the slight nod. The band's first album (ASH RA TEMPEL) was better, probably because it was all instrumental and with only two (very) long tracks. SCHWINGUNGEN tries for being more visceral- -vocals and more structure, you see- -but falls flat as their lack is what made ASH RA TEMPEL so great. It does have its moments, though. Had I been there, and I'm glad I wasn't, I would have said "better luck next time." Unfortunately the next time happened to be SEVEN-UP, about which the less said the better. If they were gonna let T Leary preside over the live bit (tres hippy-chic!) then they should have told him to just sit down, fer cryin' out loud, and keep his trap shut. It doesn't work, even as comedy- -and they were dead serious. Come to think of it, maybe they were having a little joke on the good Doctor at the audience's expense. Either way it's laughable.