Marvin Gaye

Here, My Dear: Expanded Edition

Hip-O Select

originally published January 16, 2008

Breakup records are, by definition, messy affairs. The same can be said, even more so, of divorce records. Marvin Gaye's 1978 chronicle of his split from wife Anna Gordy Gaye, Here, My Dear, is an emotionally conflicted example of how a great record can result from such a less-than-glamorous hurdle. Gaye, under pressure from divorce proceedings that gave Gordy Gaye (sister of Marvin's then-boss, Berry Gordy) a substantial stake in her husband's royalties, doesn't attempt to spare the rod or protect the innocent.

As Here, My Dear opens, its title track lays a deceptive groundwork that's woven throughout. Gaye isn't hollering at the top of his lungs or riding atop a charging beat to get his point across. Instead, he coasts into the room coolly, lights a smoke and proceeds to croon arsenic-laced morsels like, "You have no right to use a son of mine / Just to keep me in line" over a slow-dance backdrop like those that graced Gaye's early duets with Tammi Tyrell.

This reflective, therapeutic approach fits the material well. Gaye comes across as wounded, crossed and tender, but also apologetic and regretful as he recounts how the glow of his marriage left the bedroom headed for the courtroom. In "You Can Leave (But It's Going To Cost You)," he admits, "It did not matter whether I was mad at her or she was mad at me / Understanding my condition, I must surely be hoping, wishing to be free." Whether Gaye is referring to his increased craving for other women, hard drugs or another temptation is up for discussion, but, as the '70s drew to a close, he knew this chapter of his life would not have a happy ending.

The Expanded Edition tacks on an extra disc of alternate mixes that doesn't especially add to, or alter, the impact of the original. On Here, My Dear, Gaye isn't just looking back on his failed relationship, but also his life in music up to then. Though backed by a then-new, Funk Brothers-less Motown session crew, each song capsulizes a different facet of Gaye's songbook. From the "Lets Get It On" fallout of "Everybody Needs Love" to the disco soul of "A Funky Space Odyssey," this is an oft-overlooked gem in the Gaye catalog that keeps right on bleeding, but, at the same time, keeps right on giving, too.

Michael Andrews

Eels

Meet The Eels: Essentials 1996–2006 & Useless Trinkets: B-sides, Soundtracks, Rarities and Unreleased 1996–2007

Geffen

originally published January 16, 2008

Chief Eel Mark "E." Everett churns out the kind of pop music that would make the glummest brooding teen sport a Cheshire grin. Everett's knack for turning miserable circumstances on their ear has served him well, as his synonymous Eels are now the subjects of both a 10-year anniversary Essentials collection and a double-disc rarities comp.

The Eels catalog has always been something of a musical potluck, and the same goes for each collection. Meet the Eels does a respectable job of separating wheat from chaff, charting Everett's progression as songwriter and arranger from 1996's from-out-of-nowhere alt-rock anthem "Novocaine For the Soul" up to inclusions from 2006's With Strings: Live At Town Hall. The package also includes a DVD of videos and live stuff with commentary from Everett.

Useless Trinkets, on the other hand, compiles a wealth of soundtrack, compilation and other assorted goodies, including the gleefully goofy "I Like Birds" and a great cover of Daniel Johnston's "Living Life" taken from the Late, Great… tribute disc. There's also a DVD of performances from the group's stand at 2006's scaled-down Lollapalooza. One gets the feeling the two collections could've been combined, at the risk of overkill, into some sort of box as the junkyard cover of Missy's "Get Ur Freak On" and others from the Essentials disc could've easily fit into the scheme of the rarities collection, and vice-versa. However, both projects should contain enough scar-baring substance and sudden melodic detours to keep both Eels rookies and diehards satiated for some time to come.

Michael Andrews

John Anderson

All The People Are Talkin', Tokyo, Oklahoma, Eye of a Hurricane, Countrified

Collector's Choice

originally published January 16, 2008

Several mid-career Warner Bros. releases from hardcore honky-tonker/ Southern rocker John Anderson are making the rounds, and it's about time. Anderson, due to either an unpredictable approach to his music or his sporadic hiatuses from recording, rarely gets enough credit for pioneering the up-tempo blend of pop, rock and country that dominates today's charts.

From 1983, All the People Are Talkin' is perhaps the most rocking set in the reissued lot, with the exception of 1985's Tokyo, Oklahoma. Anderson had scored a gigantic hit with "Swingin'" the previous year and his hot streak continued throughout the followup, highlighted by the nose-thumbing Anderson staple "Black Sheep," as well as an infectious, sax-driven version of the Jumpin' Gene Simmons (not the Kiss frontman) novelty classic "Haunted House."

For 1984's Eye of a Hurricane, Anderson used a similar approach, dividing the set between red-blooded barroom country and wild-eyed Southern rock. Though the album lacked some of the big single power that All the People Are Talkin' and 1982's Wild & Blue, it nonetheless kept Anderson in good standing creatively and popularity-wise, with inclusions like the swaggering "Red Georgia Clay." Still, the album is missing a good portion of the sly spark and drive that fueled its two predecessors.

Tokyo, Oklahoma livens things up a bit with Anderson, again, hearkening back to his days as a wild and woolly Florida rock'n'roller. Leading off with a polished-but-effective cover of The Stones' "It's All Over Now," Anderson and company plow through the tongue-in-cheek title track, in which Anderson longs for his little "number one ichiban" in the comically titled Okie town, and other repeat-worthys like Seals and Reid's "A Little Rock 'n' Roll (And Some Country Blues)" and Mac Macanally's like-minded "Twelve Bar Blues."

Whereas Tokyo, Oklahoma found Anderson in guitar-slinging rock mode, 1987's Countrified delivered exactly what its titled implied - a straightforward slice of love/ lose/ lament country weepers and keepers. Anderson pays respect to influence Merle Haggard with the Hag's "Fightin' Side of Me" and presages his '92 comeback anthem "Seminole Wind" with "Yellow Creek," a track that, too, condemns the white man's treatment of Native Americans during the 1800s. Countrified would be Anderson's final album for Warners, the label on which the husky, nasal-voiced Anderson came into his own as a recording artist with his label debut "I Just Came Home To Count The Memories" (also reissued in the lot) along with these four subsequent releases.

Michael Andrews