Alice Cooper - Along Came Spider

Throughout his long career, Alice Cooper has taken full advantage of how concept albums allow for more ambitious songwriting and memorable, layered characters who get more than one song to tell their stories. They're always tortured stories with social outcasts rebelling against turbulent childhoods or other traumatic whatnot, but this time the stakes are much higher. Along Came a Spider tells the story of an eccentric serial killer who suffers from the exact opposite of arachnophobia and lives by the spider's code of "You trap, you kill, you eat." How he got there and why he chose spiders is a story better heard from Alice -- that is, if you're an undying fan of his less accessible concept piece From the Inside or his phantasmagorical horror show Welcome to My Nightmare. Spider has as few hooks as Inside and more than twice the sinister moments found on Nightmare, all delivered with a post-Rob Zombie attitude that allows things to get a little more brutal, more alt-metal. While the casual fan will feel that some of the less gripping songs are just here to move the story along, fanatics will gush as Alice once again acts as host and narrator and revives the character Steven, the young boy who broke all his toys on Nightmare. With a serial killer as lead and titles like "(In Touch With) Your Feminine Side" and "The One That Got Away," Alice fills his lyrics with clever and gruesome wordplay, but the winner here is the only plausible single, "Wake the Dead," which shockingly and shamelessly borrows the bassline from the Chemical Brothers' "Let Forever Be." Guitarist Slash, Kiss drummer Eric Singer, and background vocalist extraordinaire Bernard Fowler all make appearances, while Renaissance man Danny Saber handles the production with co-producer Greg Hampton, which appropriately sounds soundtrack big. An easy recommendation for fan club members and/or serial killers. Everyone else has two or three better Cooper concepts to devour first.

Neil Diamond - Home Before Dark

Home Before Dark is Neil Diamond's second collaboration with producer Rick Rubin. Their first, 12 Songs, was sabotaged by Sony's "Rootkit" program that invaded the operating system of any computer it was inserted into and wreaked havoc on it in the name of "copy protection." The catastrophe caused already wholesaled copies of 12 Songs to be recalled from store shelves even as Diamond was getting better reviews than he'd gotten in at least a decade. Sony eventually reissued it in 2007 in a deluxe package but the damage was already done and the songwriter was deeply disappointed — some accounts claim devastated. Ultimately, Diamond was undaunted, and decided to work with Rubin again because the producer was able to coax something from him that had been missing form his records since Beautiful Noise in the 1970s — a sense of urgency, a sense of walking on the wire unprotected, at one with the song apart from its production.

According to his unusually candid liner notes, Diamond took ten months to write the 12 songs that appear here. Rubin enlisted help from Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers' keyboardist Benmont Tench and lead guitarist Mike Campbell, as well as studio ace Smokey Hormel to play guitar and bass, and former Chavez guitarist Matt Sweeney. There are no drums, but there are some spare, beautifully arranged, and unobtrusive strings by David Campbell. There is also a duet appearance on the track "Another Day (That Time Forgot)" by Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks. Ultimately, however, no matter who plays on or produces a record, it comes down to the songs: are they there or aren't they?As good as 12 Songs was as an album of new songs, it was obvious that Diamond felt very exposed and perhaps somewhat uncomfortable in such a skeletal setting. He hadn't been in it with other musicians for decades and never as a recording artist. Yet there was obviously something about that particular process of creation that excited him. It's not merely the newfound comfort of the setting, it's the way the songs are written and delivered: presented by a guy with his beat-up guitar letting them rip without restraint, pouring them over the listener with the authority of a writer as well as the vulnerability expressed in newness.

The beautiful piano and synth lines, as well as the elegant and/or edgy lead guitar and bass licks in these tunes, are applied with painterly care by the studio musicians in order to set off what is so dynamically and poetically evident in them. Diamond is not a young man anymore and, thankfully, he doesn't write like he wants to be one. That said, he does sound lean, hungry, slightly wide-eyed, and a tad wild. Check the track "Forgotten," with a rock & roll progression that could have come off of one of his Bang singles, yet reflects the travails and anguish of a protagonist whose heart bears hurt without the grace and wisdom age is supposed to bring; its desperate ache expresses the fear that it may be too late to reclaim the self-definition he was once so sure of. The grain in Diamond's voice is raw, tense, and fierce, and it quavers just a bit in the refrain — as an exclamation point , Sweeney's guitar part nails it to the wall.

The irony is that it follows "One More Bite of the Apple," another rollicking song, but this one is about reuniting with the protagonist's beloved — but that love is not human; it's songwriting. This is an ode to the Muse, and the punch in the twin bellies of complacency and denial that can come with success. This sense of willful malcontent, naked fear, and uncertainty illustrates some of the content in Diamond's liner notes about his writing process. Songwriting, however, is just one topic here; there are some beautiful love songs as well. One is "If I Don't See You Again," the album's opening cut. It's about the bittersweet aftertaste of lost love, experienced by someone who knows the truth of what he's learned. It's classic Diamond; in that languid melody he's conversing with an anonymous "other" who the listener encounters as a reflection, a ghost, or a shared confession. The beautiful drama, the gorgeously crafted bridge, and the accepted sense of loneliness in the protagonist's voice are combined seamlessly with gratitude and a storyteller's authority, all of them unmistakably Diamond at his very best.

In the album's first single, "Pretty Amazing Grace," Diamond sings a prayer of gratitude for rescue and restoration to either Divine Providence, his beloved, or both; its ambiguity is no doubt intentional, but jarringly effective when offered inside such an infectious and haunting melody. It's set in fingerpicked minor chords on steel-string guitars with a standup bass as a backbone that stands quiet yet tall in the mix. Tench's piano adds dynamic tension to the ends of lines toward the refrain where the guitars get punched flamenco-style and the tune breaks wide open. Strings tastefully decorate the backdrop, as the lyric goes ever deeper, juxtaposing the present against the past, not as contrast but as a progression from darkness into the sunlight. It's a wonderful choice as a single and video.

The duet with Maines, "Another Day (That Time Forgot)," with its shadowy traces of the gentle but brooding intensity of the intro to "Holly Holy" in the chord progression, as fine as it is, is not the best song here. Its tale is the admission made by lovers lost to one another over the course of time, who have no idea how they grew apart, only that they did and love died in the process. The song, despite subtle sweetness in its melody and the empathic dialogue between the protagonists, is, in essence, a tragedy. It suggests that shrugging one's shoulders and walking away from love without a clue as to how you got there is sad beyond fathoming. Tench's piano improv fills the spaces between verses, and his sense of melancholy and foreshadowing is gorgeous. There is no overwrought vocalizing by either Diamond or Maines; no trying to convince the listener — the melody and lyrics handle that on their own. "The Power of Two," with beautifully entwined acoustic guitar lines by Mike Campbell, is an artful framework for one of Diamond's better love songs. With the fluid movement of the music, his lyric reveals that sometimes the advancement of age and the wisdom gained in experience do go together. The protagonist realizes that he has the ability and courage to embrace another fully; he has the desire to finally allow himself to become a part of love instead of remaining apart from it by protecting his heart.

The title cut that closes the set is one of those moments where the best songwriters can take minimal musical elements and parsed-down language, and reveal to the listener the very real sense of one end of overheard yet very intimate conversation. The narrative draws itself out as first-person speech and the melodic structure of the tune and the pop hook are subtle, almost as if to underscore that this song is private, yet its power can't help but draw one in. Home Before Dark offers aesthetic proof that 12 Songs was no fluke. This is a much stronger, less "civilized" album. It doesn't sound like the work of a veteran craftsman/songwriter simply doing what he does best or feels is expected of him. Instead, it sounds more like the honest work of an artist who has, at long last, reached all the way down into the scariest parts of himself and faced them in his work; speaking the truth of what he found there as honestly and as artfully as he can — without relying on the slick craftsman's bag of tropes, tricks, or artifices.

Home Before Dark is the work of an artist who finally realizes that he is, to quote Texas songwriter Ray Wylie Hubbard, "condemned by the gods to write," and has to chase the love of that fate for life. Diamond is not reinventing himself here; instead, he's out there trying to prove — to himself first and foremost — that not only can he still write great songs, but he can meet his own demands for excellence by delivering them to his peers and an audience convincingly. He succeeds on all counts.

Cliff Richard - Rock Connection

The Rock Connection was originally released in 1984, some 26 years into Cliff Richard's career. Along with the Rock 'n' Roll Silver album from the prior year, this record constituted Richard's back-to-basics phase, working virtually live in the studio with a loud five-piece band built around John Clark on guitars, Mark Griffiths on bass, and Dave Cook and Alan Park on keyboards, with Stuart Tosh and Graham Jarvis alternating on drums.

The resulting album was decidedly uneven — much of it came off as a loud, lean, crisp mix of rock & roll and power pop, Richard's voice surrounded by (and often immersed beneath) in-your-face electric guitars and synthesizers. On most of those numbers, Richard tried hard but, apart from a few moments, particularly on the synthesizer-laden ballad "La Gonave," he's overwhelmed by the sheer wattage of the sound around him — not so much his voice as whatever personality he brings to it seems buried beneath the guitars and drums, so that even where the melody comes through, as on the haunting middle section of "Lovers and Friends," his singing seems mechanical. And the squeaky, beeping synthesizers on what starts out as the minimalist version of "Lucille" (before turning into very brittle noise) added nothing to the song — Richard actually comes close to doing something with this number, except that he sings too loudly and ends up trying too hard. But "Be Bop A Lula" ended up rather better, exuding raw power and no ultramodern distractions.

And then there was "Donna," which receives a soaring, powerful, yet eloquent performance and is one of Richard's few reconsiderations of his classic recordings that comes off better than his original. And the highlight was a song that had been Richard's May 1983 single, "She Means Nothing to Me" — the track straddled several decades and an ocean, written by Dave Edmunds' bassist John David and featuring the best vocals on the album, no surprise there as it is a duet between Richard and Phil Everly and is worth the price of admission by itself.

The 2004 CD reissue improves what was good about the original LP, bringing up the impact of the instruments and boosting the volume, which brings up the impact of the best songs (which were good enough to carry the original LP) — the bonus tracks boost it up a notch in value; the remake of "Move It" is a waste of time, lacking the original's depth and passion, but "Teddy Bear" done as a slow ballad, and bracing renditions of "Little Bitty Pretty One" and "Tutti Frutti" are a delight, the latter oozing energy out of every seam; and as the perfect closer, the producers have included the stunning harmony ballad "I'll Mend Your Broken Heart," Richard's other duet (in conjunction with "She Means Nothing to Me") with Everly.

Alice Cooper -The Eyes of Alice Cooper

Give him points for persistence: Alice Cooper just won't quit. He's seen it all from the bottom to the top — and done the trip more than once — but still continues on his merry-morbid way, punching out albums like a spry young'un. The first thing one has to say about The Eyes of Alice Cooper is thank Jehovah and all his witnesses that the Mascara'd One has grown out of his metal/industrial phase. That look just never took.

Discs like Brutal Planet (2000) and the somewhat better Dragontown (2001) offered little to his legacy or his legion of fans — aside from nascent headbangers discovering the Coop for the first time. Eyes harks back to Alice's overly maligned early-'80s discs Special Forces and Flush the Fashion — albums that suffered by comparison with his landmark '70s releases but remain far more musically appealing than the aforementioned new-millennium fare. It takes a couple of listens to "get it," but there is some very good material here: largely derivative, yes, but energetic and entertaining nonetheless. And the old sneer-and-wink is back and comes through in lyrics that, unlike the sonics, are distinctive.

The punkish "Man of the Year" is a tragicomedy rip on button-down-collar types who climb life's ladder only to end up putting a gun in their mouths. "Novocaine" (the very word brings back memories of Billion Dollar Babies and "Unfinished Sweet") has, believe it, a Bruce Springsteen guitar sound. The best rocker of the pack is "Detroit City," a quasi-anthemic, mid-tempo grunter fuelled by a slapping, tom-tom beat and a fist-pumping chorus. (MC5's Wayne Kramer adds an extra axe on this one.) The classically Cooper-esque ballad "Be With You a While" is another scene-stealer ("I wish I could tell you/Something you didn't know/I wish I could give you/Something you didn't own") and shows that the ol' snake-twirler still has a sensitive side. The most autobiographical moment comes with the second track, "Between High School and Old School." To wit: "I'm stuck somewhere between high school and old school." Ah, but was it not always thus?

For more than three decades Alice has been everyone's favorite grown-up in teens' clothing. And that's why he's loved. Alice being Alice. It's tried and true and it works again here. Not exceptionally, but more than acceptably. In the sweeping context of his legendary career, one could say that The Eyes of Alice Cooper is far from his best album and just as far from his worst.

The Go Gos - God Bless the Go Gos

The release of God Bless the Go-Go's evokes the spirit of those movies where beloved fictional characters from another time period (The Brady Bunch) or far-off galaxy (Star Trek) find their way to modern-day America. These characters never quite fit in with their new surroundings, but that is the fun of it. The best films of this genre tend to put people in their place. They let viewers know that they're not, and will not for long be, the ruler of this world, for these roads have been walked down time and again. Nowhere is this a more disregarded lesson than in the pop and rock music industry, where yesterday's stars are tomorrow's clearance bin.

In the 21st century, it is a most unlikely surprise that the Go-Go's should pop up again, having traded in their water skis for saint wardrobes. They may be the premier all-girl band of the '80s, but even with their occasional summer tours, only loyalty extremists can keep excitement going over a group that has only released three albums in the distant past. So here, dear fans, is the long-hoped-for number four. Don't be fooled by technological blurting like "hyperspace," "vision of nowness," or the haphazard lyrical palette on "Sonic Superslide," which states "We are solar sisters here to make you shine." Sounds edgy and new, but the group took the familiar route with tracks that sound every bit as Go-Go's as their previous records. Every bit as Go-Go's, that is, as their non-hits and less remarkable material. While the Go-Go's sound is intact, there is not a "We Got the Beat" or a "Head Over Heels" to be found.

It is feasible that in this age of pop rebirth, the Go-Go's decided it was now or never. The result makes little sense, since God Bless is in good company with alternative music from the 1990s. The first single, "Unforgiven," was even co-penned and features vocals and guitar by Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day. The album lacks modernity aside from its production and stylish vocals by Belinda Carlisle (not as perfected as on her 1996 album A Woman and a Man, but should astonish unfortunate MTV worshipers who have not heard anything from her since the late '80s.) The songs flow together a little too perfectly due to heavy, monotonous guitar use — listen to it once, and then without looking at the track listing, try to make them out by their musical intros. Good luck.

There are very nice intersections amid the musical gruffness, like the ballads "Apology" and "Here You Are." There are spots where the guitar serves them well, as on "Unforgiven" as well as "Stuck In My Car," a wonderful fast-paced song about a slow-motion traffic jam. The album finishes with "Daisy Chain," which will go down in Go-Go's history if only because it is the history of the Go-Go's. It is memorable, sporting lyrics like "At number one not doing so fine, still having some fun spilling the wine," graced with a sticky sweet melody. Such a beautiful song it is — transporting listeners back to the reason they love the Go-Go's in the first place — that it is easy to give the whole album the benefit of the doubt. Yes, there has been effort put into the making of God Bless the Go-Go's. Yes, it is great to see a group of five 40-year-old women proving that aging is not the same as dying. Yes, it is exciting to hear something new after 17 years. The fun should be that the Go-Go's fit awkwardly into their new surroundings, that they show up from out of nowhere with their silly Go-Go's music to shake up all the "zero size" girly singers who they poke fun at on this album. Hopefully, fans won't have to wait another 17 years for that fun.

Willie Nelson- Outlaws and Angels

Outlaws and Angels is the audio counterpart to the Willie Nelson Special that aired on cable television in the summer of 2004. Here, Nelson is surrounded by friends who also happen to be fans. Among them are Keith Richards, Lucinda Williams, Merle Haggard, Carole King, Al Green, the Holmes Brothers, Toby Keith, Kid Rock, Shelby Lynne, Jerry Lee Lewis, Los Lonely Boys, Toots Hibbert, Joe Walsh, Ben Harper, Rickie Lee Jones, and Lee Ann Womack. Interestingly, Bob Dylan, who was part of the broadcast, is absent here, though he has top billing on the advert for the DVD that comes in the package. That said, this set is for the hardcore only: the first irritating thing is that the announcer for the evening introduces each guest — sometimes the middle of a song! While this could have been easily edited, the fact that it was left in for the audio CD is inexcusable. Secondly, the material, while compelling, is rarely executed in such a way. The ease that Haggard and Nelson display with one another is rarely achieved elsewhere. Williams' duet with Nelson on "Overtime" is truly beautiful, and the pair share an affinity for delivering ballads without overstatement. Likewise, Keith Richards' appearance with Nelson on "We Had It All carries with it real authority, and Nelson's own delivery on the tune is stellar and deeply and oddly, Richards' own vocal, despite his limited range, complements Willie's well in a roughshod way. But these are the clear highlights. The rest, with Haggard, Lewis, Kid Rock, and Richards, is just plain embarrassing. This is a mixed bag to be sure, but it's not without some charm. If only the presentation were better.