The first two sides of this double record set spotlight Hooker, his incendiary, coiled-snake stinging guitar, his foot stomping, mutable time-keeping and his chant-like, mournful singing all recorded intimately. Canned Heat co-founder Al Wilson contributes harmonica and piano on some of the tunes that are otherwise all Hooker.
The Bay area based Blue Cheer issued this raw blues-psych record that runs a little more than a half an hour on the Philips label back in January of 1968.
I once pissed next to Dave Mason in the Cambridge Boathouse bathroom back in 1970 something. That has nothing to do with this review except that it’s a review of a Traffic album and Dave Mason was in Traffic but you wouldn’t know that from the cover of their first American album.
Freddie Hubbard’s group leading debut may not have been his finest album but it was a great one and an auspicious debut for the then 22 year old who would go on to play on some of the greatest jazz albums ever, some of which he fronted.
If you want to know what the early 1960’s felt like, listen to this lushly and dramatically orchestrated Sinatra, bathed in opulent, moonlit reverb and surrounded by cushiony strings spread out on an impossibly huge, wide and deep soundstage.
Back in the 1940s the legendary concert promoter, record producer and record company head Norman Granz conceived of jazz performances in a classical music style concert setting.
Fats Waller had been gone twelve years when Louis Armstrong and his All-Stars recorded this tribute album in 1955. Sadly, the notorious overeater died at 39 of a heart attack.
These loose, swinging 50+ year old sessions recorded in the summer of 1958 and winter of 1959 and sounding incredibly life-like tonally, offer Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn on piano fronting small combos of legendary horn players, some not normally associated with Ellington, Joe Jones on drums and a few added musicians to spice up the mix.
Maybe the soundtrack to your life didn’t exist in 1969, or if you’re fortyish, was filtered through an amniotic sack. 1969 was an unsettling year. The fall was post-Woodstock and spelled the end of the ‘60s, though what we now think of as “the ‘60’s” arguably didn’t happen until the ‘70s. 
This slab of red vinyl got plopped on the turntable and listened to before the unnoticed press blurb stuffed into the gatefold jacket made returning it from where it came impossible.
Only in retrospect does the “high concept” of Marshall Crenshaw’s remarkable 1982 debut assert itself: marry infectious ‘50s and ‘60’s-like rock’n’roll tunes with the then modern chorus guitar effects popularized by The Police’s Andy Summers. Maybe that wasn’t the plan, but that’s sure what it sounds like! That, or what a vintage Seeburg or Wurlitzer juke box would sound like heard from outside of the malt shop teen hang out.
The indie rocker Sufjan Stevens brings a surprising and delightful buoyancy and sense of wonderment to his orchestral suite commissioned by the Brooklyn Academy of Music to celebrate the 25th anniversary of its “Next Wave” Music Festival. The original debut performances were in November of 2007.
Icy cold vistas, shards of broken electronic glass, relentless thumping disco beats and possible mysteriously encrypted bits of dialogue may not sound like something that would be particularly inviting on a full range audio system, but somehow Fuck Buttons makes it so on this album of artificial mayhem and just plain noise.