It only took Eddie Van Halen 102 seconds to change the face, sound, and scope of rock guitar forever.
The first time any of us dropped the needle on “Eruption,” the onomatopoeic 1:42 instrumental that served as the literally explosive second track on Van Halen’s self-titled February 1978 debut album, we knew instantly that rock & roll had turned yet another corner. During the pop-music malaise of the late-1970s, wherein the razor-edge ethos of punk and seemingly endless days/nights of disco had already upset the bloated rock applecart, Eddie Van Halen shifted the narrative back to the value of the virtuoso musician in ways not seen in almost a decade.
The Grateful Dead couldn't catch a break. Sure, they were the head-trip belles of San Francisco's 1960s psychedelic ball, but they were unable to get their recording act together enough to cut an album that best captured their true spirit—that is, until they struck prospector's gold with their fourth studio album, June 1970's Workingman's Dead. By dialing back on the overtly psychedelic-cum-outré experimental modes that dominated June 1968's Anthem of the Sun and June 1969's Aoxomoxoa and instead zeroing in on their folk-bred songcraft for Workingman's, the Dead had finally found their recording niche at last.
Two words I'd never dream of associating with Nick Mason would be "idle hands." If anything, the longtime co-founding Pink Floyd drummer has always liked keeping himself busy, whether it's been behind the drum kit or handling the respective steering controls of exotic cars and/or flying machines (a.k.a. airplanes, in everyday parlance).
Composer Michael Kamen had a vision. Back in April 1999, he convinced Bay Area metal overlords Metallica to team up with the San Francisco Symphony in Berkeley, California, for S&M, a 2.2-hour concert wherein classical music met aggro-rock head-on. Not only that, but Kamen's skilled orchestral re-arrangements of 20 Metallica classics also revealed how many of the band's subversive originals were perhaps more progressively inclined than others may have previously thought.
When the final notes of "Trouble No More" rang out in the early morning hours of October 29, 2014 at The Beacon Theatre in New York City, the unthinkable was finally upon us, for that meant The Allman Brothers Band were truly no more. After five-plus decades as the consummate road warriors, America's premier jam band was hanging up its collective boots for good at the venue they'd held an annual residency at for a quarter-century.
Bands that are chock-full of virtuosic performers often need that one key anchor player who literally holds down the fort while the superstars show off their chops. In the case of veteran British rock stalwarts Deep Purple, that anchor is bassist Roger Glover.
Forgive the imagery, but Jon Anderson is like the Energizer bunny of progressive music—he just keeps on going and going. The legendary founding Yes vocalist/lyricist forges ever onward like a man perpetually possessed by his muse, whether he's adding to his own solo canon or collaborating on shared-name releases with the likes of violinist Jean-Luc Ponty, Flower Kings guitarist/vocalist Roine Stolt, or his former fellow Yesmates in the short-lived but quite well-loved musically acrobatic acronym known alternately as ARW, or YES Featuring Jon Anderson - Trevor Rabin - Rick Wakeman.
If there’s one thing the ongoing pandemic has taught us, it’s that the “too much time on my hands” concept no longer applies. Here are five music-centric podcasts and a sixth smorgasbord selection to enhance your appreciation of music and the ways it’s made.
It's a common refrain these days. Perhaps you've even said it yourself out loud on occasion to no one in particular but yourself, and/or to whomever you're jointly commiserating and quarantining with, and/or have typed it out as a comment-cum-lament underneath one of those incessant social media "memories" reminders that really only serve to bum you out about what you're missing—not to mention what you most decidedly won't be able to replicate in a comparable fashion in the near future.
Forward-thinking guitar legend Steve Howe, the maestro of many iconic, nimble guitar riffs that have literally defined a generation or two of aurally challenging songs by the likes of Yes and Asia, is describing his raison d'être. "I'm a sound recorder, in a way," he continues. "I'm like Chet Atkins and Les Paul, who were both sound scientists. They were recording engineers and producers as much as I am, or as much as I hope to be."