Not to worry, I'll explain what that title means in just a sec.
As anyone who knows me or follows me on social media is aware, I have a music fanatic, LP-loving cat. She doesn’t like many people, but she loves my stereo. She’s claimed a spot in the middle of the living room as her own when I’m spinning records. She stretches out, either on her side or her back, and points her ears at the speakers. Occasionally, she rolls around and stretches a bit, but stays put as long as the records keep coming, often for hours at a time. I have no idea what’s going on in her kitty brain when she’s listening. No idea if she’s enjoying it for any of the same reasons I am, but she certainly has her preferences. She’s definitely a Deadhead, with no need for a hit of catnip to get into them. She seems to prefer music with a more midrange and bass sound than stuff with a lot of upper-end treble. Too much or too aggressive high end makes her twitch, I’ve noticed. Has the same effect on me now that I think about it. But the most significant preference she has is for vinyl records. If I’m streaming Qobuz or playing CDs, she loses interest quickly and wanders off. Whatever it is about digital music that leaves me somewhat cold has the same effect on her. Fortunately for both of us, most of my music listening involves spinning records. I’d hate to face whatever feline retribution she might come up with if I should ever stop.
The title of today’s post refers to a couple of terms that get thrown around a lot by the current generation of vinyl collectors. A “grail” is a record you’ve been seriously hunting for, sometimes for years, but haven’t been able to find. “In the wild” means a physical location; a record store, yard or estate sale, secondhand shop, basically anywhere other than ordering it online (and paying collector prices). Finding a grail in the wild is, to me, one of the greatest pleasures of record collecting. I have the patience to wait and there’s more than a little thrill when I come across one. The folks with record-related YouTube channels take it a bit further and post celebratory “grail” videos when they happen to score one. A couple of days ago, I found four, count ‘em, four, in one trip to my local record store. Such a glorious day seemed worth writing about.
• Neil Young, Harvest (1972) – Everybody knows and loves this one. It’s been reissued a few times over the years, and everything Neil attaches his name to sounds fabulous, so I certainly could have had one before now. But I wanted a piece of history, my history, so I was patient and kept looking. I remembered the original soft, matte, textured cover that looked and felt kinda like craft paper. The folded cream-colored lyric sheet inside in Neil’s handwriting, the simple orange Reprise record label. Most of all, I wanted the sound of the 1972 version. Finding an original was definitely a grail hunt.
Neil has punched up and “improved” Harvest's mix over the years, but I wanted what I remembered when I fell in love with the record back then. Hell, a big chunk of the album was recorded in Neil’s barn, it’s supposed to sound echo-y and a little creaky. The remastered version is impressive, Neil is famously fussy about sound, but for me I want to be brought back to the barn while I listen, and the beautifully preserved copy I found this week does that.
EARWORM: "Out on the Weekend" - Loping, ruminative, classic Neil album opener, with fabulous harmonica.
• Linda Ronstadt (1972) – I’ve had a thing for Linda since before I was 100% sure what that meant. She wasn’t a struggling musician on the streets when she left the family ranch in Arizona and relocated to LA, she arrived with family money and one of the greatest singing voices in popular music. Linda was, and still is, an incredibly strong woman, who always kept firm control of her career, even in the boy’s club atmosphere of LA’s music industry in the late 60s and 70s. Not being a songwriter, she was an interpreter with broadly eclectic tastes. She chose her own songs, didn’t allow Capitol Records to feed her “hits,” and covered rock, country, R&B, folk, whatever turned her on musically. She was a huge champion for her songwriting pals like Jackson Browne, Warren Zevon, JD Souther, and Neil Young, and boosted their early finances by including their songs on her albums.
Capitol struggled with her first four solo albums. She was difficult to promote without an easy genre pigeonhole to put her in, and their record producers struggled with coming up with a cohesive sound for her eclectic mixes of songs. They leaned heavily toward marketing her as country-rock, very trendy in LA at the time, until Peter Asher stepped in to produce Heart Like a Wheel as the world-dominating pop record it was, and the rest is history.
Linda’s first four Capitol records got her some serious cred with music critics, but not much in the way of sales. They’ve never been reissued and are scarce in the wild. Finding this one only got me halfway to owning them all, but that's better than a quarter of the way. It opens with Jackson Browne’s classic “Rock Me On the Water” and ends with a ferocious “Rescue Me.” In between, you get amazing versions of songs by Johnny Cash, Neil Young, the Erics – Kaz and Andersen – even a little Leadbelly. The musicians Capitol hired to play on the record included her LA friends named Frey, Henley, Leadon, and Meisner. Shortly after these sessions, they got their own act together and named their new band The Eagles. I can’t recommend this one highly enough, she was amazing years before the whole world knew it.
EARWORM: "I Fall to Pieces" - Linda covering Patsy, what could be better?
• Lou Reed, Rock N’ Roll Animal (1974) – Contrary to popular belief, Lou actually had some sizeable hits during his long career, including this album. Not with the Velvet Underground, of course, unless you count critical acclaim, which doesn’t pay anybody’s rent. His first solo record tanked in ‘72, in large part due to the influence of his record company and lack of new songs. By November of the same year, he had released Transformer, recorded with super-fan David Bowie, which included “Walk on the Wild Side,” one of the greatest songs that should never have made it past radio censors. Sales were huge, and Lou had his first real hit record. Being Lou, he followed it up with another uncommercial massive flop, the uber-depressing Berlin, and by 1973 RCA wasn’t looking too favorably at his contract.
RCA’s solution was to put Lou on the road to record a live album. The setlist was loaded with VU songs that weren’t played anything like the experimental, punky originals. He hired a band that included two Detroit guitar hotshots, Steve Hunter and Dick Wagner, and rearranged the songs to sound like large-scale arena rock with extended guitar solos and lots of tension-and-release drama. The album only has five songs, which tells you how much (spectacular) jamming by Hunter and Wagner is on it. Rock N’ Roll Animal is one of my all-time favorite live albums, and an essential electric guitar record, but the reissues over the years have messed with the original five-song track list. Finding a terrific 1974 copy this week was another happy grail moment. The whole arc of Lou’s career is a story of commercial success followed by notably bizarre left turns, kinda like Neil Young. For the Lou-curious classic rock fan, though, this is a perfect entry point.
EARWORM: "Sweet Jane" - for the guitarists' amazing opening instrumental jam.
• Elton John, Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy (1975) – Elton was original King of Pop back in ’75 (sorry, Michael). By the time this one came out, he had sold bazillions of records around the world and his concerts packed the biggest stadiums in this, and every other, land. Captain Fantastic was the first record to be certified gold before it was even released, demand was so high. It was extravagantly packaged, with a stunning gatefold cover painting by Alan Aldridge, based loosely on Bosch’s “Garden of Earthly Delights.” The original vinyl release came with a poster of the cover, two booklets (one with lyrics, the other with photos and memorabilia), and an order form for Elton tour merchandise. No promotional expense was spared by MCA, there was even a limited-edition Captain Fantastic pinball machine produced that’ll set you back about $5000 these days, if you can find one. Let’s just say he was pretty big at the time.
The record itself was different from the mega-smashes he had released up to this point. There was only one, albeit huge, hit single, “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” and the songs were overtly autobiographical. No “Honky Cat” or “Crocodile Rock” whimsy here, Bernie Taupin’s lyrics told the story of his and Elton’s early career struggles and rise to superstardom. It’s one of his rare releases that works perfectly as a complete front to back listening experience, rather than a random collection of brilliant pop songs. I loved it in 1975, and I love it today. The grail I found in the wild this week even had all the original inserts included. Coming across it felt, well, fantastic.
EARWORM: "Tell Me When the Whistle Blows" - A deep cut that shows just how great Elton and Bernie were at this point, kicking out brilliant pop songs with seeming ease.
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