One of five - yes, five - releases from DAC in 1977, this obvious follow-up to 1976's Longhaired Redneck has more of a conceptual bent, with the tracks fading one into the next and Coe really getting a ton of emotional weight of his chest. It's a brash yet unflinching portrayal of his outlaw lifestyle, and I would say the warts and scars are much more prominent than the successes, with the incredulous single "Willie, Waylon, and Me" being a serious exception.

Sunshine was the end result of Dragon's nearly two year search for success after they moved from their native New Zealand to Australia. The progressive rock of their initial albums was long done away with, replaced by a more direct pop-rock sound which dabbled in funk and disco and enhanced by lead singer Marc Hunter's edgy presence. The only ballad is the title track which has a 50's retro vibe, but much of the rest of the album has the same playfully destructive streak reflected by singer Hunter. "Get That Jive" has to be one of the best intentionally vapid pop tunes I have ever heard, bar none, chock full of decadent attitude and languid white-boy funk, while the darker side of the party persona is expressed through tracks like "Street Between Your Feet" and "MX". It's hard to imagine 1970's pop being as recklessly carefree and well-done as Dragon did it here.

The friendliest face in the "P-Funk" universe was none other than William Earl “Bootsy” Collins... but then again, arguably, it was Bootsy and his brother Catfish, who were also among the most radical members of the group during the earlier years. It was their initial appearance which enabled what was then only being called Funkadelic to release one of their more ambitious projects – the sprawling double LP set America Eats Its’ Young – and essentially stabilized the group after many of the original members had left. By the time the reconstituted Parliament and their hits graced the radio waves, they felt like repetitious, regurgitated riffs of tunes they already had conquered on albums past, just watered down for a more mainstream audience. Case in point – Ahh…The Name is Bootsy, Baby, which – do not get me wrong – has some entertainment value in this world, but not even Collins took it serious, treating the album more like a playground for his infectious personality.

Rhodes to the ranch where he goes Mano y Mano with Steve Forrest's hilariously stereotyped character (right down to the bad moustache) while Stefanie Powers has the presence of a two by four. This was how the West was lost.

An underrated disc in the Kyuss catalog, long overshadowed by the heavyweight records that were to follow, like Blues for the Red Sun and Sky Valley. The production is borderline basement-level, John Garcia’s vocals and lyrics are often awkward or just not up to snuff, and the rest of the band is closer to hardcore punk (they were huge Black Flag fans) than the bongload-heavy stoner rock they would become so known for. And yet, when taken on its’ own terms, Wretch is nearly as formidable a package, despite its' beastly tendencies. I believe this is out of print, so snap it up if you come across it.