In between Rich Man and this studio album was considered CBB’s initial U.S. breakthrough – FM Live, a live record recorded in New York City, meant as a loggerhead to slowly establish the band Stateside. It would seem British bands – more often than not – were interested in going the Humble Pie route to gain fame. Sense of Direction was the studio follow-up – in comparison to Rich Man, a much more adventurous collection for sure – but put next to the albums in the 1969-71 stretch and it is hard not to notice the slick and polished sheen of the material. The garish, Hollywood-derived cover has to mentioned as well. We still have one foot ever so gingerly in blues territory, but those days are quickly coming to an end. Still, the album is pretty interesting from start to finish, mainly because the group is confidentially shifting around through a few different moods and genres like seasoned experts. The “Amerita/Sense of Direction” deal which opens the album sets the tone in more ways than one. “Amerita” weaves Cooper’s sax and Haycock’s guitar together in a blinding tapestry of progressive-ism and fast rhythm, but that quickly gives way to the laid back but wise “Sense of Direction”. The really fast, boogie rave-up “Nogales” – which brings in Latin elements – along with “Right Now”, are probably the closest links to the band’s backstreet blues past, but that is a bit like saying a football team which used to run a smash mouth offense is now running the option. Speaking of “Right Now”, Cooper’s clarinet parts feature heavily here and in the ending “Milwaukee Truck Blues”. Kind of an odd instrument to integrate into a rock band, but CBB does it cleanly and competently. Not much else to go over here, other than we are right in the thick of the next phase of CBB’s career arc – blues rock-pop, and all that is missing is the big hit single, which was soon to come. For now, it’s competence on top of professionalism.

A Lot of Bottle embodies all of the characteristics of great blues-rock records: sadness, anger, alienation, sarcasm, humor, and a certain unapproachability which was even felt through the most accessible material. Track lists differ depending on what version you have but there are some stone-cold biggies that have made it across the various versions over the years. "Reap What I've Sowed" is driven by yet another massive Haycock slide guitar riff while Derek Holt's vocal dedicated to money hungry hangers-on feels like it comes from the bottom of some faraway well, giving the track a very disjointed effect. But the real payoff is the solo section where everyone puts the hammer down like a ton of bricks and then some. This is blues-rock gone proto-punk. "Seventh Son" is the next tour de force, where Cooper's robotically cold vocal treatment has you convinced he could be at least a good candidate for the role, right? The second half features a long, progressive-ish coda that veers into King Crimson territory at times, even. The final epic is a cover of Muddy Waters' "Louisiana Blues", where they expertly draw out the mood of the original. In between there are shorter tracks which essentially are offshoots of these three main epics, and are all worth listening to at least once...but it does bring me to my one small beef with this album. It feels like there is a slight bit too much filler, and in reality, the record keys on the axis of these three mammoth tracks.

Death by rotary telephone!

An intoxicating mix of symphonic sounds and raw-boned soul courtesy of frizzy-haired frontwoman Carol Lloyd, who comes off like a Janis clone but turns out to be much more versatile and just...her own undefinable style. And her band mates are more than a match for her, too. Maybe the covers are a little too obvious and/or maudlin (they hit "Come Together" and "Ruby Tuesday" within the same album), but you have to admire the ambition. This is the album Jefferson Starship wish they made.

Has a cover which looks more like you are about to check out a Rush album, and by and large the vibe is that of Van Halen taking over the elder statesmen of hard rock role. So, that knocks off a lot of listeners from the jump. But, at least now, the material feels like it is coming from a real, emotional place, and not some celebrity ego trip, like the previous record. Another interesting aspect was tension between Hagar and the rest of the band. You can feel a distinct chill between him and everyone else when you listen to the album as a whole. None of this makes for an essential listen, but this is definitely the sleeper in the VH catalog.