Day 12: Halestorm, “Back from the Dead”

When: Released May 6, 2022

Why? Although this is the band’s fifth album—and they’re Grammy winners—I’ve only been introduced to Halestorm this year, through a series of feature articles in Classic Rock, Total Guitar, etc. promoting this new release. I was curious to see what they brought to the modern-rock table.

What? Eleven songs—38 minutes—of hard rock exploring personal empowerment and self-acceptance in a world turned upside down by politics, a pandemic, and prejudice.

First Impressions: Wow. Maybe I have particular appreciation for female rockers, having grown up on the Runaways, Blondie, Joan Jett, and Heart. Maybe, having recently heard albums that I thought were overlong or meandering, I welcomed this album’s compact, visceral punch. Whatever. This won me over from the very first track, “Back from the Dead,” and kept me riveted until the end.

This is tight, well-produced hard rock, played by people who know what they’re doing. The drumming by Arejay Hale is propulsive, explosive. Lead and support guitars from Joe Hottinger are perfectly fit to the songs, with no time wasted on soloing for soloing’s sake. Bassist Josh Smith underpins the chords perfectly, even if he may be a tiny bit low in the mix. (Or maybe I’m saying that because I’ve just come from a Flea record!)

And then there’s guitarist and vocalist Lzzy Hale herself. Again: Wow. My throat hurts just listening to her full-throttle vocals. (There is a moment about two-thirds of the way through “Psycho Crazy” when Hale not only turns it up to 11, she somehow finds 12. My jaw literally dropped.) To my ear, she showcases vocal qualities that remind me of Joan Jett, Grace Potter, Brian Johnson, and James Hetfield—all delivered in a dynamic performance that can shift from a shout to a whisper, from gravel-rough to Amy Lee clarity. (For a sample of what I mean, compare the anthemic “The Steeple” with the piano-driven “Raise Your Horns.”)

There was not a weak or superfluous track on the album. Every song brought something new to the table. And while experienced listeners will be able to anticipate some moments (e.g., a full-out chorus that drops to a stripped-down verse), I think they’ll also find plenty of unexpected nuance and even restraint (again, “Raise Your Horns”).

The unexpected also carries over to the lyrics. Most songs were written by Lzzy Hale and Scott Stevens, and they display a refreshing blend of attitude, point of view, intention, and smarts. Above all, though, these songs sound like they were written for fans. I don’t mean they were designed for fans to sing along to (although that’s clearly true for some of them); I mean they were designed to speak to fans, as if Lzzy herself were sitting down with them, face to face, to tell them what’s on her heart. When I can come to these tracks for the first time, with no Halestorm history, and feel that sentiment through the songs… Well, I think that’s remarkable.

So? There were a couple of moments during my listen when the combination of emotionally raw lyrics and Hale’s vocal performance actually brought tears to my eyes. Who expects that from hard rock?

I loved this album.

Day 11: The Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Blood Sugar Sex Magik”

When: Released September 24, 1991 (coincidentally, the very same day as Nirvana’s “Nevermind”)

Why? I’ve never heard a Chili Peppers album; I’m only familiar with two of the tracks from this, with “Give It Away” being one of my favorite tracks of the decade.

What? 17 songs, one hour and 14 minutes. While this is not their most popular album, it is considered the band’s breakthrough and a foundational album in 1990s alternative rock.

First Impressions: My nutshell review: It’s overlong, but I really enjoyed it.

My familiarity with funk rock pretty much begins and ends with Prince. And while he and the Peppers tread similar territory regarding relationships and, particularly, sex, their world views couldn’t be more different. Prince explored sex as part of a spiritual experience in which one lover serves the other. With the Peppers, the man is always the one being served and sex is just about genitals. Not that everything here is about sex: there is a range of experience and varying depths of emotion represented here. It’s just that even when the Peppers aren’t singing about sex—“Give It Away” is apparently not about anything sexual at all, despite many listeners’ impressions—it often feels like they are.

That said, these guys know how to funk.

I don’t think the opening and closing tracks for this album do them any favors, though. “The Power of Equality” has a great message, terrific verses, and an incredibly funky groove. But its chorus feels like a rushed afterthought. And it leads straight into one of the weaker tracks on the album, “If You Have to Ask,” which feels like pure B-side filler to me. (But maybe I “have to ask” and just don’t get it.)

Then we shift gears, going from strength to strength—the album’s high points are many, including “Funky Monks,” “Give It Away,” and “Under the Bridge”—until we hit the album’s final four tracks, starting with “The Greeting Song.” Apparently, even lead singer/songwriter Anthony Kiedis now hates everything about this song. I wouldn’t say I hate it, but it doesn’t belong on this album. (I’m ambivalent about the next song, “My Lovely Man.” I sympathize with the meaning behind it, along with Kiedis’s need to write it, but it’s just okay to me.)

And then there’s “Sir Psycho Sexy,” in which Kiedis revels in sexual, misogynistic fantasy; it’s juvenile and mean-spirited. Lyrically, it’s the lowest point on the album. (And this same ground was covered earlier—and somewhat more positively—in both “Apache Rose Peacock” and the title track.) For the final real song on the album, it’s an unfortunate choice.

For the final final song on the album, an ultra-fast cover of Robert Johnson’s “They’re Red Hot,” there’s not much I can say. It’s a fun throwaway that would have worked better as a hidden track.

The performances here are outstanding. Kiedis’s voice can change cadence and tone on a dime to suit the material, and I can’t imagine anyone delivering lyrics like he can. Flea’s bass playing—which he has described as “simplified” from the previous album!—is nonstop, moving effortlessly from foundational low-end support to funky accents and melodic lines. John Frusciante’s guitar is tasteful, versatile, and joyfully funky, while Chad Smith’s drumming drives the rhythm section’s groove. This feels like a real band, not just a group of musicians.

So? Despite a handful of songs I didn’t like, I really enjoyed this. I’m sure I’ll be listening again.

Day 10: King Crimson, “In the Court of the Crimson King”

When: Released October 10, 1969

Why? I’ve never heard a King Crimson song, and this, their first album, is considered a foundational album in the development of progressive rock and a significant influence on early Yes and Genesis. Also, I’ve been seeing the eye-catching cover of this album in racks since I was a young teenager.

What? Five songs, averaging about nine minutes each (lasting 44:28), that blend pop, light rock, jazz, classical, and experimental sounds.

First Impressions: With opener “21st Century Schizoid Man,” we’re given a comprehensive introduction to what the rest of this album holds: Lyrically meaningful songs accompanied by lengthy (and often experimental) instrumental passages.

These are not throwaway pop songs; the lyrics throughout focus on war, social injustice, humanity’s search for meaning. The musicianship on display is remarkable to the point of being virtuosic, with drummer Michael Giles, in particular, demonstrating incredible technical skill on every track.

Personally, though, I tired of the way the band would essentially finish an actual song (i.e., the part with lyrics) and then continue down often unrelated, jazz-based instrumental excursions for five or more minutes. I physically reached the limit of what I could take when the hauntingly beautiful “Moonchild” devolved into maybe 8 minutes of unnerving “instruments as sound effects” experimentation that offered nothing I could call music and filled me with anxiety. I had to skip the last 5 minutes.

So? I realize that King Crimson’s blend of pop/rock and freeform jazz is one of the hallmarks of progressive rock. While I recognize the musicianship required to conceive and play such challenging music, the fact is that I prefer songs. And when it comes to instrumental breaks or even extended musical explorations, I respond best to melodies and structure; I want them to mean something. So when King Crimson delivered songs, I enjoyed them very much. But because of how this material is presented—with many minutes-long instrumental breaks and lengthy instrumental endings—I don’t see myself wanting to sit through this album again.

Day 9: Patti Smith, “Horses”

When: Released November 10, 1975

Why? I’ve never heard a Patti Smith song, and she and this album are frequently cited as having planted the seeds for what would become punk music.

What? Eight songs, 43 minutes.

First Impressions: This is one of those times when I fear that it’s nearly impossible to base a judgment on a single listen. But here goes…

This is contemporary poetry of the highest order, often delivered in poetry-slam style with a conviction and insistence that demands we listen. But it isn’t out to shock (necessarily) or be abrasively in your face: It’s insistent not out of anger or rebellion but because the messages seem so personally important to the artist behind the words.

While most of these songs are lengthy, I never felt that any were overlong. They are telling stories with multiple layers, often delivered in multiple sections, that rise and fall, push and pull. There is an hallucinatory quality to much of the imagery here, which will certainly reward deep and repeated listening.

Apple Music—and every reviewer I’ve read—labels this album “punk.” But if you expect Sex Pistols, you’ll be disappointed. As the Apple Music liner notes state, “Calling Horses one of the first statements in punk begs the question of what punk is: A sound? An attitude? A political orientation? A stylistic one? In some ways, Smith was a traditionalist.” That’s most clear in the instrumentation, which can be surprisingly spare, artfully interacting with Smith’s lyrics.

Here, “punk” has nothing to do with the sound, which is sometimes tinged with Fifties jazz, sometimes Seventies rock. Instead, it’s an attitude, a willingness to break down barriers and kick open doors. Consider the opener, “Gloria,” a cover song. Smith takes a raw-sounding popular track by Van Morrison’s band Them and turns it on its head—adding multiple new verses of her own storytelling and flipping the song’s gender to create something truly thrilling.

This feels corny to say, but each song here truly is a multifaceted jewel.

In addition to “Gloria,” highlights for me include “Redondo Beach,” the hallucinatory journey of “Birdland,” “Kimberly” (this song in particular made me think Smith’s vocal delivery was a strong influence on Blondie’s Debbie Harry), and “Land.”

So? Almost 50 years on from its initial release, this album still feels both fresh and relevant. I have no doubt that it will reward multiple plays over the course of many years. It is true, timeless art.

Day 8: David Bowie, “Hunky Dory”

When: Released December 17, 1971

Why? I’ve only heard a few of Bowie’s radio singles, never an album that helped establish his reputation. “Hunky Dory” is often cited as Bowie’s first great album, the one where he finally found his voice. A couple of musicians I respect—notably Dave Stewart and K.T. Tunstall—consider it highly influential on their work. Tunstall calls it her favorite album.

What? Eleven songs, 42 minutes. An esoteric collection of pop songs ranging from straightforward to art-pop and musical hall. Lyrically, it includes psychedelic stream-of-consciousness prose poems, a loving song for his new son, reflections on fame and maturation, and at least one song that seems to verge on parody.

First Impressions: The most surprising thing for me was how acoustic and piano-driven it is. With the exception of one or two songs, there is very little electric guitar. A synthesizer seems to only appear in the intro to one song; the dominant keyboard is piano, which is everywhere (and very well played by Bowie and Rick Wakeman).

Previously, I was only familiar with “Changes,” the big hit from this album. It was my favorite track. I also enjoyed “Oh! You Pretty Things,” “Life on Mars?,” and “Kooks.” I can definitely see myself adding all of those songs to a playlist.

Of the remaining seven tracks… I enjoyed hearing them—I ended up listening to the whole album twice—but they didn’t resonate with me. The melodies meandered. Lyrics ranged from understandable but unrelatable (for me) to obscure. The generally sparse arrangements seemed to work well in support of the songs, but I was often left wondering why anyone bothered. Is the cover song “Fill Your Heart” meant to be a parody? ironic? Is there a point to an “Eight Line Poem” about a cactus on a windowsill? Is the seemingly nonsensical “The Bewlay Brothers” really worth the effort of trying to parse out all of the hidden autobiographical hints and allusions critics have since begun to see in it?

Three “tribute” songs (for Andy Warhol, Bob Dylan, and Lou Reed) make up the bulk of the album’s second half. I’m not surprised Warhol reportedly didn’t care for his song; there just isn’t much to it—and what is there doesn’t seem flattering. I thought Dylan fared better in terms of the songwriting. Bowie’s song for Reed, “Queen Bitch,” is as close as the album comes to a rocker. But, again, it’s not the most flattering portrait.

So? Maybe Bowie just isn’t my taste beyond a few popular singles. Maybe this is one of those albums that you can only really appreciate if you were there when it was released. Or maybe it’s best appreciated by those who knew Bowie’s work before “Hunky Dory” and can better understand what its songs represented for him and his career.

I’m glad to have heard this. I discovered a couple of tracks I will enjoy listening to again. But it isn’t an album I’d go out of my way to revisit in its entirety.