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.

Canned Heat's second LP of `68 is an expansive affair, reflecting the excessive spirit of the times. The sheer amount of content is what matters here, especially towards the end with the experimental "Parthenogenesis" collection followed by TWO - yes, two - twenty minute live versions of the "Refried Boogie", complete with extended solos from all instruments. This also includes the band's other big hit "Going Up the Country" which became the unofficial theme of Woodstock. But with the emphasis on lengthy jams it may not be a good idea to make this your first Canned Heat album to listen to.

What should have been just a fun throwback-style comedy turns into an unnecessarily overcomplicated train wreck that never quite gets untangled.

Zephyr's debut record is usually dismissed as either a Big Brother & The Holding Company clone because of frontwoman Candy Givens and her Janis-like vocals, or as just the project which launched guitar God Tommy Bolin's career. There's a kernel of truth in the former sentence and more than enough fallacy, for they were really a loose, heavy-blues, jazz-inflected ensemble better suited for the stage than the studio, having not that much in common with the folk-leaning San Francisco sound. It's difficult to distinguish one song from another and better to enjoy the overall vibe and great interplay between the musicians. One drawback is the muddled production, which tends to hoard the instruments together and somewhere there is Candy's howling voice in that maelstrom. But this is a nice album from a gutsy band that deserved better.

Out of the horde of hair metal bands from the 80's, Winger was one that got a bad rap for a number of reasons - one of them being that their most notable song celebrated underage relations. All of the members had paid their dues as part of other groups (most notably Kip Winger with the comeback version of Alice Cooper), and eventually came together in New York City to form Winger. They had reasons to be confident, they were experienced and professional enough, and despite the show-off tone at certain points ("Seventeen", "Poison Angel"), there is a mature, evocative thread running through the record, making it one of the better second-wave glam debuts.