Dr Simon Reads...

  Despite the album title, and also having a track called Walking Back To Waterloo, this isn’t a Napoleonic Wars concept album (which could be fun). The Gibb Brothers do what they do when they’re not doing disco, which is soaring ballads with lush orchestration and harmonies on the chorus. Which is fine, and it’s a pleasant enough listen but as is often the case with albums composed entirely of pleasantness, very little tended to stand out; it’s almost the case that if you like one track, you’ll like the others. Walking Back To Waterloo, the final track on the album, is probably the best example of such a song, with a very singable chorus. For me the more interesting tracks are a couple where Robin Gibb takes the lead in the vocals (usually it’s Barry, there are a few from Maurice, sometimes they take turns within a song). On the track When Do I, Robin goes up and down the scale, going as low as I’ve ever heard a Bee Gee go, while The Lion In Winter is a soulful, almost gospel, n...

  Although Marc Bolan and T Rex had been producing music for a while before this, their fifth album, this is where they really lean into the pop-rock elements rather than the more folky   direction that they had before – one that hasn’t stood the test of time as well compared to tracks like Get It On and Jeepster, the big hits from this album. It’s clear to hear the beginnings of glam rock here, with the stompier beats, not to mention Bolan’s visual style. But this isn’t Chin/Chapman clumping music. This is maestro producer Tony Visconti, a notable collaborator with Bowie, and so the music has a lightness to it, with session horns and piano from Rick Wakeman. Plus, a lot of Bolan’s songs are slower numbers like the soaring Cosmic Dancer or the acoustic guitar-driven Girl, or the snakelike funk of Planet Queen, sliding sinuously into your ears. The album ends with Rip-Off, probably the rockiest number on the album with sax that’s very Visconti. The tracks are a return to sh...

The track Imagine gets so horribly overplayed and hyped it’s hard to judge it fairly, but actually listening on headphones, the simple but memorable piano riff is a lovely bit of delicate musicianship, even if the lyrics are, to be frank, a little bit trite if you think about them too hard. You can’t fault Lennon for the “why can’t we all just get along?” sentiments though. The iconic piano piece is played, by the way, by session musician Nicky Hopkins who is very likely to be the keyboards for nearly every of the Seventies albums in this list where the band doesn’t have a keyboardist of its own (and especially the UK/USA artists). Ex-Beatles pal George Harrison puts in a lot of guitar on the album too – listen out for his distinctive slide style. Crippled Inside is a country-style little jaunt about why some people can’t just get along with others, while Jealous Guy sounds like a romantic song in terms of the music, but actually the lyrics are pretty abusive and controlling, essenti...

  The Theme From Shaft has to be Hayes’ most iconic song except, perhaps, Chocolate Salty Balls from South Park. I imagine he’d prefer to be remembered for Shaft. Although Simon and Garfunkel’s Bookends featured tracks written for The Graduate, I think this is the first proper soundtrack album in the list, and to my shame I’ve never seen Shaft. Just as the film itself set the standard for “blaxploitation” films forever more, so too did this album set the bar for Seventies crime-based films and series – look me in the eye and tell me that the theme from Starsky and Hutch (and perhaps Antonio Fargas’ Huggy Bear character) weren’t born from this. Without the film visuals as reference, pieces of what are essentially incidental music lose something, I think, but remain pleasing bits of orchestral-backed soul. Bumpy’s Blues, for example, is a laid-back piece with strings, sleazy sax, and wah-wah guitar that sounds like a superior bit of KPM library music that you would pick out as ba...

  I didn’t think I recognised the name Gene Clark, but it turns out he was a former Byrds member, the man responsible for Eight Miles High among others.   And this would explain why the album is inoffensive acoustic country/folk-rock for the main part. Comparisons to other artists are inevitable ; Clarks has a pleasantly melodic voice and at times sounds like (variously) James Taylor or John Denver. He likes to put in a bit of Bob Dylan harmonica as well, and then proceeds to cover Dylan’s Tears of Rage, previously heard here performed by The Band. I think Clark’s version is better , albeit less evident of rage in Clark’s smooth vocal compared to Richard Manuel’s “tortured Kermit” sound.   It also explains why it’s on this list because, despite being entirely pleasant to listen to (a nice antidote after Can’s avant-garde soundscapes), it’s not especially remarkable or innovative. Instead perhaps it appears thanks to Dimery’s seeming obsession with all things Byrds. ...

  I’ve no idea why I’ve never heard of Can before; it seems like they would have been a prime choice for the musical tastes of some of my university house-mates .    Can are a German group, at this stage fronted by Japanese singer Kenji “ Damo ” Suzuki. Well, I say “singer”, he’s more a “vocal performer”, but more on that shortly. The album starts off conventionally enough, with a kind of psychedelia/funk/rock fusion feel. The second track Mushroom is a kind of lo-fi trip-hop beat with lyrics that could in equal part be about nuclear war and psilocybin (and I’m sure the ambiguity is entirely intentional). The track Oh Yeah took me a little to Happy Mond ays, and there’s a bit of a feel of Nineties Indie and Trance throughout Disc One of the album – the likes of The Orb and Spiritualised came into my head too.    Then we begin to descend into madness. Hallelu h wah is an 18-minute odyssey with a driving drum beat maintained with mechanical precision thro...