“Tug of War” came at a strange crossroads in Paul McCartney’s life in 1982. At this point, Wings had effectively come to an end, his lifelong best friend John Lennon had been murdered, and McCartney was entering his forties with more than a decade of post-Beatles music behind him.
So rather than continuing down the increasingly experimental path of “McCartney II” from a couple of years earlier, Paul reunites with George Martin and ends up putting together one of his most carefully constructed solo albums.
There are a good handful of really solid songs on here, from the big sweeping title track to “Take it Away,” to the undeniably catchy and long-lasting hit “Ebony and Ivory.” And to the latter, while I’ll admit that some of the sentimentality of “Ebony and Ivory” feels a little too calculated and the whole thing can certainly feel a bit corny, it’s hard not to sing along whenever it’s on, it’s just a fun song.
And then we have “Here Today,” one of the most beautiful and touching songs McCartney ever wrote, his tribute to John Lennon, who wasn’t just his bandmate and co-writer on so many songs, but was his close friend since childhood. “Here Today” sees McCartney processing the grief that comes along with losing a friend so suddenly while looking back on his relationship with Lennon.
And “Here Today” doesn’t serve as some sort of hagiography of John Lennon. It reflects on their complicated relationships, the arguments they had, the affection they had for each other, and all the things that were left unsaid. It’s one of the most vulnerable performances McCartney ever put on record.
“Tug of War” bounces around in tone, oftentimes it can feel like there are two different records fighting against each other for airtime here, but as a whole it’s one McCartney’s best solo records. Beautifully produced, occasionally moving, frequently brilliant, and serving as a snapshot of an artist entering a new phase in his career. _________________ Progressive Rock
There are plenty of jazz albums that are more adventurous and innovative than “Moanin’” is. There are albums that are more technically impressive, more complex, more experimental, more historically radical. But there are are very few that are quite as immediately satisfying as “Moanin’” is.
Originally released as a self-titled album by Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers, this album eventually became known as “Moanin’” thanks to the massive popularity of the opening track, which fits because that song is a perfect distillation of everything that made this incarnation of The Jazz Messengers so special.
Speaking of this incarnation of the band, the lineup is nuts.You’ve got Lee Morgan on trumpet (at just 20-years-old), you’ve got Benny Golson on tenor sax, Bobby Timmons on piano, Jymie Merritt on bass, and of course Art Blakey on drums.
And they crush on this album from start to finish. Morgan is phenomenal throughout this album, so good that you forget that, again, he’s only 20 here, yet his playing carries this incredible confidence, precision, and personality to it, especially on the title track.
Meanwhile, Golson provides a perfect counterweight to Morgan’s fiery trumpet with a warm, almost conversational quality to his sax, as the two of them bounce ideas around during the whole album. And of course there’s Blakey on drums, who is rock solid and feels like he’s constantly nudging the band towards the edge of losing control without ever actually letting them fall.
“Moanin’” is considered a classic for good reason. It’s a landmark hard bop album that isn’t sustained by any kind of historical importance—there were plenty of hard bop albums coming out in the late-50s—it’s sustained entirely by the music. It’s an album that manages to be both sophisticated and accessible, tightly arranged, and completely alive. _________________ Progressive Rock
This might be the best album Sly & The Family Stone ever made (it’s up there), and it’s the sound of the band realizing they could make pop music that was also funky, psychedelic, political, joyful, and completely impossible to categorize all at the same time.
This is Sly & The Family Stone at the peak of their creative powers, and an album that does an incredible job jumping between moods. “I Want to Take You Higher” is a monster of a song, gradually building from a funky groove into a full-blown explosion of horns, vocals, and rhythm. And there’s “You Can Make It If You Try,” an extremely underrated track that’s warm, exuberant, and almost ridiculously infectious. And of course there’s “Everyday People,” likely the most famous and the most accessible song on the album and an absolute banger that’s still a blast to listen to today.
What makes “Stand!” so revolutionary is the band itself. In 1969, Sly Stone brought together Black and white musicians, men and women, and a mixture of rock, soul, funk, psychedelia, gospel, and pop into one group without making the diversity feel like it was the point. It simply was the music.
“Stand!” is funky without being confined to funk, political without being preachy, and experimental without sacrificing great songwriting. It’s one of those albums where the individual songs are fantastic, but the bigger achievement is the world Sly and the gang create when you listen to the whole thing.
It’s an essential record from one of the most inventive and interesting bands of the 60s. _________________ Progressive Rock
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RockyRaccoon
