One the things I find fascinating about British blues rock of the 60s and 70s – and by extension, the heavy metal sub-genre – is the hard-scrabble environment which the vast majority of the bands came out of. Unlike America, where at least there was some semblance of hope around the corner – however fleeting the thoughts were – in the UK they were dealing with the absolute dregs and leftovers from the Industrial Revolution. By the mid-1970’s Judas Priest (name taken from a Bob Dylan song on the John Wesley Harding album) had been through the ringer - through countless lineups, a debut album, and while working on the second album they were desperate enough to subsist on one meal a day. What they recorded and eventually released as their second album may not even compare to their future output, in many departments, but it does stand as an interesting landmark for a number of reasons. First of all, this is the record which establishes the Judas Priest as everyone knows them – maybe not the complete image, but certainly the technical style and execution. I am not really convinced that JP were all that original for the metal genre, except in one aspect – they took what came before them and made it more extreme and dangerous. The two big factors here are Rob Halford’s vocals and twin-guitar interplay between K.K. Downing and Glenn Tipton. Regarding Halford, it seems like overdubs or related tricks are used here and there in specific spots to accentuate his effect on the whole proceedings, especially on “The Ripper”, and I guess you can’t blame production for this. The guitar interplay fits into the overall scope of the sound – most everything is dramatic, but I’m not sure I would say it’s over driven, either. And it’s not like I can really remember specific solos sticking out or anything like that. There are meticulous details they get right, though, like the spiraling guitar section that leads into the “gong” midsection on “The Ripper”, which all sounds strangely out of tune, but just devilishly perfect. So, my favorite tracks are the first two – “Victim of Changes” and “The Ripper”. They get so many twists and turns and details and well – damn near everything on these two tracks go how it should go to a freakin’ tee – plus I can listen to them non-stop and never get bored. After that, it’s good, but not as dead-on as those two songs, so the album loses some luster. The whole “Dreamer Deceiver”/”Deceiver” bit is really hit and miss for me – at times I feel like they could break out into a “Planet Caravan” cover, then a Joni Mitchell tribute, then Rob Halford screaming at me for catharsis – but the “Deceiver” bit does rock for the little section of time that it is on. The piano interludes (“Prelude”, “Epitaph”) are just strange, still feel like they are a slight bit out of place after all of these years. This leaves us with three relatively standard rockers (“Tyrant”, “Genocide”, “Island of Domination”) which, in general, I do not feel are as well-developed as the first two tracks. Of the three, “Genocide” works best, and the spoken-word midsection would provide the band with the title of its’ next album – Sin after Sin. I still think the first side of this record is way better than the second side, just from a pure finished songs standpoint. So, in the end, a fairly interesting, if somewhat spotty document, which in the very least established the group as a force to be reckoned with.

Crowbar changed their approach somewhat, transitioning from the 50's inspired barrel house boogie of the previous album to heavier, more progressive, and R&B sounds for Heavy Duty. But in the process, they lose a lot of what made them unique in the first place. "Trilby" is a promising start, but from then on in Kelly Jay and his crew meander in search of something tangible and not entirely getting it. Ultimately, a spotty follow-up that has its moments.

I expected to hear a decline going by the few mainstream reviews I had read in advance, but from a number of angles this is an uptick from Walsh's previous 80's output, so I am not sure what the critics were thinking. Produced by long time ZZ Top associate Terry Manning (and recorded in Memphis), Got Any Gum strikes a fairly nice balance between arena rock, sparky humor, and more substantial material. Helping out is his old Barnstorm mate Joe Vitale, along with bass player Rick Rosas. "The Radio Song" and "In My Car" were hits on rock radio stations, but the good stuff comes about midway through the record. "Mailbu" is notable thanks to an extended rush of excellent Walsh soloing, followed by "Half the Time", which is marked by lots of traditional Walsh irreverence. The second half standout has to be "No Peace in the Jungle", a very mysterious track which would fit in perfectly back in the Barnstorm days. Deceptively titled to make you think it's a toss-off, this is a surprisingly strong effort and probably deserved more attention than it actually received at the time.

Walsh's second album of the 80's improves upon the apathy of the previous record but also has its' flaws, and overall, has to be taken with a few grains of salt. Once again, "Chocolate" Perry is in the producer's chair, along with long time James Gang and Eagles associate Bill Szymczyk, and in the very least the vibe is more adventurous for the listener. Furthermore, Walsh really turns up the volume as far as his "Clown Prince of Rock" role goes, with some risqué material. Curiously, the album doesn't start that way, with "I Can Play That Rock and Roll" and "Told You So" being the first two tracks and playing it rather safe, but even here, Walsh's guitar is more prominent and his vocals have more of a loony edge to them. However, the album doesn't get rolling until the third track, "Here We Are Now", which is a very pleasant and harmonious reggae-style exercise which might have fit in with quirky vibe that There Goes the Neighborhood was going for, if Walsh had bothered to branch out into this realm. From here, it's a bit more anything goes: "The Worry Song" is a Perry/Walsh collaboration that updates Joe to the realities of the 80's - both technically and socially - and does a fairly adept job, because at the end of the day, Joe's mantra is usually pretty much, "why worry?" And this is followed up by the first of three collaborations between Walsh and his old buddy Joe Vitale, the raunchy tack piano-driven goof "I.L.B.T.s" - which, if you bother to unravel the acronym, doesn't have anything to do with BLT's. Vitale/Walsh next comment on the then-video game craze on "Space Age Whiz Kids", which for me is notable more for how well they arrange their instruments to make them sound like an 80's video game, than any wise-crackin' lyrical commentary within the track. The rest of the album harkens back to late 70's Walsh - "Class of '65", "Shadows", and "Theme from Island Weirdos" (the last Vitale/Walsh contribution) function together as one mysterious suite intended to look back on the past with fondness and longing, rather than the static bitterness of the last record. If I was to go strictly by the letter of the law here, I would actually apply the previous album's title to this one, because it seems more appropriate, in this case. Then again, it does not mean we are talking about a serious improvement from one album to the next, either. It just means there was more of the classic Walsh attitude infused into this record, that's all.

This is not Joe Walsh's stand-up comedy album, but it is a bit different than the three Barnstorm records that were recorded in the earlier part of the decade. Gone is the askew imagery of bi-planes, aviator goggles, and lonely homesteads, and in its' place is a party-time Walsh somewhere near the Keys trying to fix a hole in his damn boat underwater after three or four drinks. Strangely enough, the change in scenery gives the man a boost of needed inspiration. The first half of the album deals with past memories and gradually builds from easy, innocuous rhythms, into the innocent wonder of "Indian Summer", to the all-out attack and aggression of "At The Station". However, where the album really stands out is on a mesmerizing second half that cruises to self-effacing victory on the strength of "Life's Been Good", a shiny pop-rock anthem tailor-made for the late 70's, and "Theme From Boat Weirdos", which is great mystery theater. As a whole the album plays out like that last great vacation you thought you would never get to take, flocks of wah-wahs included.