Essentially part 2 of the farewell/send-off when the group broke up the first time, but this one is all the way live. Mountain had the reputation of a massive jam band, and for the most part, this document backs it up, although there are flaws. With only four tracks there is a lot of space to fill and one would think if any band is up to such a challenge, it's this one. And the first three tracks deliver. "Long Red" rings in the happy vibes of Woodstock, then "Waiting to Take you Away" fits more of a classic heavy Mountain pattern. "Crossroader", for me, is the real pick of this one - the brutish, yet mysterious update of Cream's "Crossroads" which the band transforms into a furious mid-tempo workout, completely improved from even the studio version that appeared on Flowers of Evil. Felix's vocal howls from the maelstrom, with a ghastly edge I haven't heard on anything else with the band, ever. The album ends with an epic treatment of "Nantucket Sleighride", which is to be expected, but here is where things become a drag. The midsection and solos are stretched beyond believability, or at least normal common sense - but then again, it was the early 70's, so this kind of tomfoolery was expected from an outfit like Mountain. Not that I'm excusing it or anything. So, the road may have gone on, but for Mountain there was a break as Pappalardi had had enough, and in the meantime West and Laing joined forces with his virtual predecessor (Jack Bruce) for the ill-fated West, Bruce, and Laing project. As far this live album goes, fairly decent stuff.

This album, for some reason, is nominally regarded as one of the weaker efforts of the "classic" Hawkwind years, but I have to go against the grain here, because out of all of those albums, it's the one I have gravitated to the easiest. Of course, that does not mean it is the best album of the lot, and certainly, there are flaws to be found here - the biggest one being that they tried to fit Michael Moorcock's Eternal Champion saga into the record - in the form of three really flimsy spoken-word *ahem* performances, and it's a pretty bad fit, to say the least. Since I do not read sci-fi literature as a general rule I couldn't give a rat's ass about this aspect of the record anyway. I focus mainly on the music, which by the way, is a bit of a change from classic Hawkwind that preceded it as well - more and more synths are in the mix here, burying the heavy guitars and bass grooves. The immediate reaction would be - what the hell happened to the Hawkwind we knew and dug - but wait, there's merit here in this approach. From a technical perspective the hairy horde steps up big time, creating a different, limbo-like atmosphere that is curiously part-futuristic, part-retro, and totally all-Hawkwind throughout. Every single one of these tracks is epic to the max - excepting the spoken-word passages - as they succinctly sum up the album title to a tee.

A decent, yet misguided attempt at carrying on the Foghat name Next up in the seemingly never-ending Foghat saga - which is still ongoing to this very day - is this album, which not even the sad passing of Lonesome Dave Peverett from cancer, could delay. By this time, Rod Price had left the band, for the second and final time. Their replacements were clearly nods to the nostalgia for arena rock in the 70's - for Lonesome Dave, there was Charlie Huhn, most known for his stint with Ted Nugent in the late 70's and early 80's. And for Price, it was Bryan Bassett, who played guitar for disco one-hit Wild Cherry, and later on in a dueling version of Foghat with Lonesome Dave in the early 90's, before the reunion album of '94. The combination of these guys, with Earl and Stevens, as you might imagine, is more low-brow than the original item. Huhn's vocals range from a generic take on Lonesome's Dave honest man theatrics to a karaoke-ish imitation of Brian Johnson from AC/DC, and the material is about in the same ballpark as well. "She loves my mumbo jumbo" is the tone setter here, and despite the lack of creativity, there is more than infectious enough energy to drive the point home. It's just that the personality, class, and craftsmanship is sorely missing from the Huhn-Bassett team, and there is subject matter here which a guy like Peverett would definitely stay away from, or at least rephrase in a better fashion ("Sex with my Ex" is especially ridiculous).

Somehow, this was the album which broke the band's lengthy streak of records which went either gold or platinum in the U.S., which was strange, because it's not radically different than the ones which came before it. The only real change is from the production end, where you notice more New Wave elements creeping into the mix, but other than that - the goddamn record is called Boogie Motel, so if you were a fan of this kind of music - was there anything else missing? Well, I guess - from a hardened barfly rocker sort of perspective - the first two or three tracks could be seen as some sort of minor sellout, but I like them. "Somebody's Been Sleeping in my Bed" is the only cover here, and oddly enough, an R&B one, with noticeable dance-floor overtones among the normal slide riffs and drunken chants you find on a Foghat tune. "Third Time Lucky (First Time I Was a Fool)", though, is a bit more of an anomaly - not like ballads and slow songs were foreign to these guys, but this was an out-and-out pop ballad eyeing chart success, and sort of getting it - it made the Top 30 in late '79. I mean, it's nice and thoughtful and well-intentioned, but so syrupy one starts to wonder if the correct record is playing or not. Then, the quasi-New Wave/disco bass-line of "Comin' Down with Love" pumps through your stereo, and you really begin to wonder, until "The Bottle" and his guitar attacks with aplomb. Furthermore, there's "Paradise Alley", a track which brings back those forlorn, desperate feelings as earlier tracks like "Midnight Madness" and "Hate to See You Go" did - this time describing Dave's encounter with a long-lost love turned street-person. Everything on this track dials into the desperation and overwhelming sadness of the story - amazing how this so-called no-name party band had such a knack for material like this. And then they turn around and cut a cheesy mother of a party tune if there ever was one, which is the title track, replete with butt-wiggling bass and guitar lines, sax solos, and stupid stories about shacking up in a sleazy motel which is somewhere "between heaven and hell". Cheap entertainment at its' finest. For my money, they probably could have cut the album right there, but there are two more tracks ("Love in Motion" and "Nervous Release") which end up feeling rather nondescript next to what has come before it.

The last album in their original run, and it is somewhat better than one would expect. Roger Earl's drums are completely in the mold of loud, unnecessarily rude and "thwacky", and the overall sound is hopelessly dated to the mid-1980's, yet, there is some pretty decent material here, and even a few really good songs. Surprisingly, the very best comes from guitarist Erik Cartwright - the peppy-catchy pop-rocker "Jenny Don't Mind" - which comes off as tailor-made for then-MTV audiences. Elsewhere, a lot of this stuff is reminiscent of American New Wave stuff like The Cars ("That's What Love Can Do", the title track), although they steadfastly keep their blues cred in place through some cover tunes and even an appearance from old stalwart Paul Butterfield playing harmonica on one track ("Seven Day Weekend"). Worth a few spins, in the very least.