953. I don’t remember

“Peter Gabriel’s third album was a world changer for me, a 1980 call-to-arms from a guy who’d done more than his share to help define the 1970s. Which in retrospect was an all too rare phenomenon – a 1970s player who didn’t mostly just embarrass themselves in the next decade. What did Gabriel have that so many didn’t (including his own fellow band members, regardless of record sales)? If I had to narrow it down to one thing, I’d say curiosity. He had no interest in sticking with what he already had going. He wanted more. Not in terms of money, fame, whatever – but understanding. Or in the case of I Don’t Remember, enlisting the likes of Robert Fripp to unleash the right kind of heavy and relevant confusion.” (Philip Random)

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959. Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy

Reginald Dwight (aka Elton John) was beyond huge through the first half of the 1970s  – ten studio albums (plus one soundtrack) between 1969 and 1975 and none of them awful. Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy was the last truly good one though, with the title track working a sort of country feel that shouldn’t have worked coming from an English suburban kid, but it did. The 70s were like that. Lots of fantasies realized … until the cocaine took over.

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989-988. Mister 10% + A Million Dollar

“Two songs joined as one side long epic c/o Triumvirat, Germany’s answer to Emerson Lake + Palmer, the key point being that Triumvirat ended up being at least as good as ELP, probably even better to the degree that they could contain their various egos and actually deliver cohesive suites of music every now and then. Not that there still wasn’t some wanking, but we needed their kind of wanking back in the mid 70s. What else were you going to air-keyboard to after the girls had all split the party? And seriously, the whole Illusions on a Double Dimple album is worth your time. Passion and finesse, even groovy in places.” (Philip Random)

1001. if wishes were horses

Sweeny Todd were mostly a Vancouver thing, though they did have one big deal hit. But then singer Nick Gilder split, leaving a gap in the lineup for an androgynous glam male voice. Enter local teenager Bryan Guy Adams, but only for one album, because then he also split, cutting his hair and dropping the middle part of his name (and all of the glam), bound as he was for Bruce Springsteen lite world domination. Which is a pity, because If Wishes Were Horses (the song and the album) had some genuine pixie dust in its veins, and there’s nothing wrong with pixies.

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1043. white rock

Rick Wakeman (wearer of shimmering capes, keyboard master from prog rock superheroes Yes) never played a bum note, which unfortunately didn’t guarantee a brilliant solo career. Except occasionally, as with White Rock which was required listening whenever the parents were out and you could finally crank the stereo as the gods intended, put those woofers to test. Found on the soundtrack from a movie of the same name concerning the 1976 Winter Olympics that nobody ever saw.

(photo: Morrison Hotel Gallery)