After decades of these songs being staples of classic rock stations and karaoke bars, it’s tempting to lump Boston in with the throngs of arena-ready, prog noodling bands often labelled (derisively) “Dad Rock.”
And yeah: your dad probably loves this album. But to dismiss it as dad rock is to miss the truth…
This is one of the greatest DIY records ever made.
It’s easy to take Heart for granted.
Their powerful blend of hard rock virtuosity and folk songwriting have made them an indelible part of the rock and roll canon. It’s almost impossible to listen to a classic rock station for more than three hours without hearing at least one Heart song.
But beyond enjoying every song I’ve heard of theirs on the radio, I’ve never had much of a desire to dig into their albums. However, after finding a copy of their debut Dreamboat Annie in a box of records given to me, one listen showed me just how foolish that oversight was.
By and large, I don’t really get Lynyrd Skynyrd. What little thought I do spend thinking about them is frantically changing the radio station anytime I hear “Sweet Home Alabama” (I really, really hate that song).
But when I separate the band from their rabid, Rebel-flag-waving fanbase and that one super obnoxious single, I can sorta actually get into it.
Across their first four albums, Led Zeppelin had rocked harder and explored more than any band before them.
It was a double-edged sword. They had created some of the most indelible songs in rock and roll history. But how were they supposed to top “Stairway to Heaven”?
They wouldn’t, actually.
By their second album, Led Zeppelin had already revolutionized hard rock. By their third, they had injected traditional folk elements to round out their songwriting.
So where could they possibly go for their fourth? They had already subverted every expectation of their genre and broken every limitation of the recording process.
But they weren’t about to rest now. Continue reading
Having already asserted their dominance on their first two hard rocking, raunchy records, Led Zeppelin takes a step back on their third outing to flex their compositional chops.
And that means a surprising amount of ballads.
I have a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell.
Immortal comedy sketches aside, I’ve never been too terribly aware of Blue Öyster Cult. So my expectations for Agents of Fortune were a blank slate.
Despite their indelible place in rock and roll history, this is only the second Aerosmith record to pass through my record collection. Their debut, Dream On, came and went without much of an impression.
Toys in the Attic, however, is a much more memorable beast.
