Sugar sugar

Candy-O - The Cars (1979)

Thanks to radio and MTV, the Cars are a band often better remembered for their long string of pop hits and quirky videos. Candy-O, however, serves as a reminder that this was a band also built to rock. Sure enough, there are pop hooks aplenty here to allure and bedazzle, but once the ignition is turned, Candy-O traverses terrain both honey smooth and rocky, masterfully fusing the bright and loopy with a subtly dark underscore.

The familiar "Let's Go", (88/100), is up there with "Start Me Up", from the Rolling Stones' Tattoo You (1981), and Chicago's "Introduction" from The Chicago Transit Authority (1969), as most appropriate songs to open an album with. The perpetual radio play over the years may result in exposure fatigue, but is also a testament to the song's captivating quality. Benjamin Orr delivers Ric Ocasek's lyrics with a confident gleam.

Ocasek handles most of the vocals himself on "Since I Held You", (82). Mostly a sugar high of a song, it is somewhat offset by a guitar recurrently declaring its edge. It's almost like a little hint as to what is going to happen when Elliot Easton lets loose on this album. "It's All I Can Do", (90), was another hit single. The guitar is ace once again but the song, a wistful yearning, is highlighted by the woo of Greg Hawkes keyboard on the chorus and synth strings on the last verse.

Sometimes when "Double Life", (87), starts, I think "Let's Go" is beginning again. Of course, the tempo is a little slower and after the first chord change at :05, it is clearly headed in another direction. The Cars are a great background vocals band. On this tune, as usual, they are simple but effective, adding aural depth as well as being fun to sing along with.

"Shoo Be Doo", (90), is a bridge between songs, beginning before "Double Life" even fades out. In its mere minute-and-a-half, the dark undertow hinted at in all previous Cars songs finally surfaces. Like a car spinning out of control, it entraps its listeners in synth echo nightmare before abruptly dumping them at the title track.

"Candy-O", (93), (http://www.mediafire.com/?hw2dvuxo8v3p49e), then, slams on the gas and accelerates the album. The Cars rock harder here than anywhere else, with Easton's guitar thrust into the driver's seat. At 1:17 begins eight seconds of absolutely molten guitar. The solo, like the song itself, could easily unfurl into an endless and beautiful oblivion, but its brevity ensures nothing extraneous and preserves a polished totality, fostering a thirst for more.

That being the case, even though listeners on vinyl get a much needed chance to catch their breath here, the flip to side two is usually not long in coming.

"Nightspots", (84), is another whirlwind track, beginning with a bubbly synth riff accentuated by laser-sharp guitar, and concluding with the unsettling robotic mantra, "It's just an automatic line." There is a malevolently mechanical feel to the song and a bombastic energy that becomes more apparent the longer the song goes. It really takes off at 1:17 and the instrumental bridge from 1:31 to 1:46 is outstanding.

Pop sensibilities come to the foreground in "You Can't Hold On Too Long", (83), and "Lust For Kicks", (76). "Hold" begins with a classic rock-n-roll kick, while an irresistible chorus and more nice guitar work as the song winds down keep it from a feckless fate. "Lust" writhes under a sugary synth riff, chronicling a star-crossed crush. The tempo drags a bit here, perhaps it's rush hour, but I always liked the line, "He's got his butane flicker, she's got it worse."

Fortunately, the energy resurges with "Got A Lot On My Head", (85). The keyboards are more effective here and there are plenty of cool noises in the background of the verses. The confessional chorus, "I've got a lot on my head, most of it's you", divulges the underlying obsession pervading this album's tracks. Candy-O only has this theme in common with much of rock and pop music in general. Of course, it's only obsession if it's unrequited. Otherwise, we can dress it up as inspiration or devotion.

The Cars sure know how to finish off an album. On their eponymous 1978 debut, "All Mixed Up" rocks seriously. Here, "Dangerous Type", (94), (http://www.mediafire.com/?upotr1bkuko7gq8), equals if not surpasses it. The chord progression on the chorus indeed produces an apprehensive impression, where each instrument converges in tight synthesis. The vocals are stirring, the guitars dense and the keys brisk. David Robinson's drums are spry and resolute, beating out fills while the song escalates to exquisite sonic coalition before sadly fading out.

Not on the album, "That's It" surfaced as the b-side to the "Let's Go" single and then again on Just What I Needed: The Cars Anthology. A simple song about "letting it all go", it's another track sharpened by Easton's guitar. Also on Anthology, a sparse and menacing early demo of "Nightspots" with different lyrics, and "Slipaway", an unreleased track from this era but sonically set in the 1950s.

After Candy-O, the Cars seemed to veer more in the pop direction. This album, though, rocks harder than a twenty-year old jawbreaker while deftly avoiding being stale.

Candy-O (album): 86/100.

When the bullet hits the bone

Under The Skin - Lindsey Buckingham (2006)

Perhaps one of rock's most underrated guitarists, Lindsey Buckingham dropped his first solo album in fourteen years with 2006's Under The Skin. Buckingham has often used his solo albums to showcase some of his quirkier or more ambitious musical ideas, not suitable for a pop chart juggernaut like Fleetwood Mac. On Under, he also gets to work his acoustic chops, creating an album somehow both enthusiastic and easy-going.

Pondering the strange dichotomy of a critically lauded but commercially unsuccessful solo career, Buckingham opens the album by reassuring himself it's "Not Too Late", (80/100). He does so poignantly, looking into the eyes of his children, with a more sobering awareness that it likely is. The rumination simmers over wavy, sparkly guitar and, while one would hope Buckingham's blues would be tempered by having also been in a hugely prosperous band and all, the longing resonates with anyone who has ever felt unseen or unheard at one time and/or another.

The pace picks up on the next number, "Show You How", (88). The stripped down feel of the album is embodied by this track, with its so slight instrumentation and whisper-like vocals drenched in Buckingham-trademark harmonic echo. "Resurrection will come" when whatever shadows lurk in the past stay there. The reverb-steeped wispy vocals of the title track, (84), also strive to chase away shadows and doubt. Speaking as one who has been there, the singer offers empathetic support and "I'll shepherd you" is a sound salve for spiritual unrest.

The ethereal "I Am Waiting", (86), is the first of two covers on the album. Originally appearing on the Rolling Stones' 1966 Aftermath, this song traverses the strenuous, rambling, labyrinthine terrain of "waiting for someone to come out of somewhere." The waiting seems to pay off, however, in a lively "It Was You", (85). Delirious back-up vocals celebrate the long-awaited arrival of real love. Buckingham drops the names of his three children in this song, in each case an indication of the past's insignificance.

"To Try For The Sun", (88), features the sound of a guitar having a seizure. Buckingham's spastic playing lends palpitating energy to the album's second cover, this one a Donovan tune from 1965's Fairytale.

Even melancholy sounds sunny on Buckingham's fretboard. In "Cast Away Dreams", (92), (http://www.mediafire.com/?l2h6p9166it2g6u), the singer bemoans leaving a situation he would rather not have. Realizing just how rarely anything turns out the way it was planned doesn't make it easier to accept, however. "Hearts will break," Buckingham writes, "with choices we must make," but even on those faithless days where regret rules, he is reminded the "sun will rise in your newborn eyes."

Still, in "Shut Us Down", (95), (http://www.mediafire.com/?61i17l6d9vn6kcl), the singer is possessed by the singular determination to not leave ever again. The intensity manifest in the frenzied vocals and finger-picking are the efforts of a man fighting nothing less than fate itself and builds to tenacious crescendo incited by raw and desperate emotion. There is an extended version on Elizabethtown: Music From The Motion Picture, (2005).

With its slick background harmonies, "Down On Rodeo", (86), sounds the most like Fleetwood Mac of anything on Under. Not too surprising then is the appearance on this song by the rhythm section of John McVie and Mick Fleetwood. Fleetwood also sticks around for the next track, "Someone's Gotta Change Your Mind", (90), but other than those cameos, Buckingham plays everything on this album himself. The sounds of children playing embellish this ardent tune along with brass orchestration.

Lastly, "Flying Down Juniper", (84), rides a flamenco-esque rhythm to the place where even the harshest realities of the past finally do not eclipse the hope for the future.

Only a liar goes through life with a smile fixed to his face; likewise, only a liar never smiles. Just as only a fool embraces pain; likewise, only a fool ignores it. Lindsey Buckingham executes a good balance Under The Skin, dealing gut-level with the messy blood and bone of life without neglecting its very vitality.

Under The Skin (album): 87/100.

Red side of the moon

Moon Blood - Fraction (1971)

If you're only going to release one album in your career, it might as well be emphatic. Out of the late-60s Los Angeles scene came Fraction and while they dropped only one vinyl testament to their existence, Moon Blood remains a hard rock legacy.

Many liken Fraction unto the Doors. Working in the same era and territory, there are certainly points of similarity, but it is perhaps too easy a comparison to draw and likely made primarily on vocalist Jim Beach's Morrisonesque delivery. A major disparity in sound comes with Fraction's lack of keyboards, and a particularity in subject matter with the book of Revelation.

One realizes Fraction is a guitar-driven band from the first rugged solo at 1:56 on the album opener, "Sanc-Divided", (85/100). Stabbing through the guitars, Beach's guttural growl ponders sacrifice as if a hippie Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Perhaps history itself answers the song's rumination: "wondering when the spirit moves me, if I will obey ... will you cast away your fame?"

"Come Out Of Her", (88), somehow only intensifies the shadows. In a word, this song is haunting. The vocals leer then let loose, the guitars slow burn with wah, while the bassline conjures Jack Bruce at his Cream murkiest. The lyrics, as on the album whole, are poetic, vivid words on a desolate landscape. When urged to "extend your thumbs and burn the darkness of her", I am more than ready to hitchhike out of Babylon.

The apocalyptic "Eye Of The Hurricane", (90), lives up to its title. The vocals rage above reverberating guitars and explosive drum fills as "fiery faces [send] judgment." Like any storm, there's a calm and peaceful middle section "in the brightness of His coming" before the swooping and swirling guitar carnage begins once again. Amidst the devastation, the will to overcome overrides defeat and, along with Sabbath-esque riffage, brings the song to a sensational conclusion.

"Sons Come To Birth", (88), gives listeners a chance to catch their breath, opening with a stripped back meditation on moving spirits, desert wanderings, grace and true freedom. It doesn't take long for the guitars to come out, though, with some beautiful subdued fretwork by Don Swanson.

Finally, Moon Blood culminates in "This Bird (Sky High)", (87). "This Bird" might be the best Doors song the Doors never wrote, complete with rambling groove and mandatory mid-song poetry recital, (an albeit brief one). The "Sky High" portion, (http://www.mediafire.com/?77vgalj6gcp1v9h), beginning around 4:40, is the sound of pure jubilation. While short on lyrics, the vigorous guitars convey the triumphant acclaim more energetically than mere words ever could.

Alas, despite evident distinction, it yet proves difficult to listen to Moon Blood without making allusion to the Doors. That being said, this album then must come from an alternate universe where Jim Morrison traded Ray Manzarek for God. Of course, as usual, the experience is most rewarding coming to it on its own terms and this album can certainly stand boldly by its own merits.

The 1999 Rockaway CD reissue adds three bonus tracks to the mix: "Prisms", which, with its soft reflection building to fuzzy climax and back again, would not have been out of place on the original album itself; the enigmatic "Dawning Light", which never quite seems to find itself harmonically; and the straightforward rocker, "Intercessor's Blues", which, while the hardest of the trio, is also the most roughly recorded and preserved.

Moon Blood (album): 87/100.