Here’s what’s on my mind this week…

Greg Humphreys & Friends - Fireplace Sessions Vols 1 & 2

If you spent any of your time in the 1990s in the North Carolina Triangle area, or if you were tuned into college and alternative radio anywhere at the time, or even if you’re just familiar with their Hootie and the Blowfish call-out on “Only Wanna Be With You,” you’re probably familiar with Chapel Hill’s Dillon Fence. They’re still around, thankfully, and still playing the occasional show, but most importantly, founding member Greg Humphreys is still hungry enough to keep searching for new sounds and avenues. Hence, the Fireplace Sessions.

From the very first bar of the nine-plus-minute opener, “We’re One,” Greg Humphreys and Friends transport you into a stress-free zone of funk, freedom, fun, and family. Fireplace Sessions arrives in two volumes, and both are equally essential for a breezy spring afternoon. In fact, it was recorded in a barn in Springs, NY (near the South Fork of Long Island). With a tight core outfit of Jason Ewald - drums and vocals; Stacy Werdin - bass and vocals; Marcus Farrar - congas, percussion, and vocals; and Humphreys handling guitar and vocals, Fireplace Sessions gives a communal vibe, one of life-affirming joy, while it also rocks out in its own laid-back way.

They tackle songs from throughout Humphrey's career, up to his recent solo work, and throw in a handful of covers that nail the spirit of the project. At one point, you hear the care-free laughter of children between songs; it’s a perfect encapsulation of this double-live experience. Fireplace Sessions is enough to help you set aside your worries for a spell, and we could all use that right now.

The Black Keys - Peaches!

Yes, these guys can be insufferable in the press, but doggone it, who else in 2026 has such a high profile and uses it to celebrate down’n’dirty swamp rock, North Mississippi trance blues, and just balls-to-the-wall rock’n’roll? Adding Jimbo Mathus and Kenny Brown to the lineup deepens the Mississippi mud that surrounds this release. Their second all-covers album in the last few years, Peaches! is the Black Keys’s most raw and in-your-face album yet. Eat a peach for peace while you're cranking this at the cookout this summer.

Brennan Wedl & Waxahatchee - “Six O’Clock News”

Brennan Wedl and Katie Crutchfield team up for a take on this Kathleen Edwards song from 2002 that’s sadly just as relevant today. The bleakness of the lyrics is offset by the beauty of the performance, which only makes its message more powerful.

Hiss Golden Messenger - “Who You Gonna Run To?”

MC Taylor digs down into a track worthy of the Mad Dogs and Englishmen days. “Who You Gonna Run To” is celebratory and timeless, sounding like a long-lost Leon Russell outtake. It’s all about the vibes, man. From Hiss Golden Messenger’s exquisite new album, I’m People.

R.I.P.:

Dave Mason

Dave Mason may never grace the Mount Rushmore of Rock, but his contributions to the form have been some of the most lasting. From penning an undeniable classic in “Feelin’ Alright” and helping lead Traffic through its early jazzy/proggy/psychedelic years, to touring alongside Delaney & Bonnie, releasing an all-out classic with his solo debut, Alone Together, and, later, hitting the pop charts with “We Just Disagree,” Mason has given us plenty to sing along to for years to come.

Don Schlitz

Durham, NC, where I was lucky enough to be born, is also the birthplace of Betty Davis, Loudon Wainwright III, John D. Loudermilk, and Don Schlitz, just for starters. Among them, Schlitz may have made the biggest dent in the culture, however. If he had just stopped at “The Gambler,” his legacy would be secure. Instead, he decided to dominate the country airwaves in the 1980s and ‘90s with a mess of songs he either wrote or co-wrote that country fans know by heart.

As far as mainstream country writing teams go, it was hard to beat Don Schlitz and Paul Overstreet in the late 1980s. Together, they were responsible for “On the Other Hand,” “Forever and Ever, Amen,” and “Deeper Than the Holler”—all by Randy Travis (and each from Travis’s first three albums), as well as “When You Say Nothing at All” by Keith Whitley, and later covered by Alison Krauss for a Keith Whitley tribute album but became a hit of her own.

Schlitz was also a frequent collaborator with Mary Chapin Carpenter. They worked together on three of her most classic songs—“I Take My Chances,” “I Feel Lucky,” and “He Thinks He’ll Keep Her”—all from 1992’s Come On Come On.

Schlitz had a way of not only fitting into the mainstream but also helping to define it. Yet he did so without sacrificing country music’s traditions. That’s the mark of a true craftsman.

David Allan Coe

David Allan Coe just couldn’t get out of his own way long enough to achieve the lasting success and respect he so long craved. He spent most of his career—to borrow from Sarah McLachlan—building a mystery; from Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy to Long-Haired Redneck to Outlaw biker. He also, not unlike Hank Williams, Jr, positioned himself among a crowd of legendary, rowdy friends in songs like “Willie, Waylon, and Me” (wherein he oddly proclaims to be from Dallas, Texas, when he actually hailed from Ohio), yet tellingly, neither Willie nor Waylon ever returned the favor in song.

In 1986, the title track from Coe’s album Son of the South (the cover of which found Coe embracing his infant son, Tyler Mahan Coe, draped in a Confederate flag) glorified the sound of Southern Rock in a sort of mashup of the Charlie Daniels Band’s “The South’s Gonna Do It” and Kris Kristofferson’s “If You Don’t Like Hank Williams.” It featured a guitar solo by Dickey Betts (we know this because Coe makes sure to yell out his full name beforehand). It was at that session where Betts met Warren Haynes, who by that point had spent most of the decade with Coe as his lead guitarist and backing vocalist. From that session lay the seeds for what became the Dickey Betts Band and—most importantly—the Allman Brothers Band’s successful second wind through the ‘90s and into the 2010s.

In 2003, Kid Rock repurposed “Son of the South” into “Son of Detroit” and included it on his self-titled album that same year. It was an album that tried to position Rock as a Southern Rocker, with an ear toward the heartland rock of Bob Seger (it even included a cover of a previously unreleased Seger song, “Hard Night for Sarah”). Rock and Coe had a co-write on that album as well (the self-pity-party, “Single Father”). It’s fitting that late in his career, Coe paired up with Kid Rock, another guy born up north who has spent most of his career fetishizing the South and schmoozing his way into sessions and shows occupied by much more talented artists.

Yes, Coe once recorded an “X-rated” album of juvenile, dirty, sexist, racist songs that was sold in the back of Easyriders magazine, through mail order, and under the counter in some less-than-reputable establishments. He tried to disavow it in his later years, saying he was “playing a character.” I guess he meant like the way Randy Newman did on “Sail Away,” “Short People,” and “Rednecks.” But let’s just say Coe’s stuff wasn’t quite as nuanced.

Still, he wrote a handful of all-timers, not the least of which, “Take This Job and Shove It,” became a country standard under Johnny Paycheck’s oversized hat. Yet even with his originals, Coe tended to, um, borrow a melody or two, as in the case of the aforementioned “Willie, Waylon, and Me,” which nicked CSN’s “Helplessly Hoping,” and—most famously—“Would You Lay With Me (In a Field of Stone),” which appropriated Townes Van Zandt’s “If I Needed You.” Coe was gifted with an expressive voice and was a strong interpreter of other writers’ work. Before George Jones wrapped his unmistakable pipes around “Tennessee Whiskey”—and more than a generation before Chris Stapleton paired its lyrics with the tune of “I’d Rather Go Blind”—Coe recorded the definitive version.

There’s been a lot of talk about “love the art, not the artist” of late. In fact, has an excellent piece about that very subject on his Pages and Frames Substack. On that note, there’s no doubt that David Allan Coe was a frustratingly complicated character. He said and did some outrageous and appalling things, but so did many of the people who created some of our most enduring art.

Yes, Coe was a damn mess, and his own worst enemy. But in the end, I believe whether one chooses to still enjoy work created by someone less than admirable should be a personal choice. Life is not black and white. It comes in many shades—as do all of us. There have been colorful characters throughout history; what a boring place this would be if that were not the case.

Nothing long and drawn out this week, just some new sounds I’ve been digging so far this year. You can click on most of these album covers, and they’ll take you to where you can stream/buy/download to your heart’s content. I’m sure they’ll all thank you for your support. Even Paul.

Hard Working Americans - “Work for Peace”

“The only thing wrong with peace,” Todd Snider sneers in this posthumous single from the Hard Working Americans, “you can’t make no money from it.” A condensed yet timely take on a timeless Gil Scott-Heron piece from 1994, “Work for Peace” may feel like screaming into the void at this point, but it’s better than doing nothing. After all, you “gotta work for peace. Peace ain’t coming this way.”

Drivin N Cryin - Crushing Flowers

When the chorus hits on the opening track, “Mirror Mirror,” it encapsulates everything that makes Drivin' N Cryin’ one of the great rock bands of the last 40 years: a startling and satisfying mix of catchy pop sensibility underpinned by hard rock energy and a folk singer’s attention to detail and storytelling prowess. From there, it only gets stronger. Produced once again by Sadler Vaden and featuring appearances by Peter Buck (who adds guitar to “Mirror Mirror” and the fantastic title track, which sounds exactly like the mashup of DnC and R.E.M. you’d expect and hope for) and including maybe Todd Snider’s last recording (he jumps in on the last verse of “Iggy Monkey”), Crushing Flowers is DnC’s strongest album in years… perhaps ever. Yeah, I said it.

Terry Anderson and the Olympic Ass-Kickin’ Team - Yeah Wooooo

The world may be falling apart all around us, but Terry Anderson and the Olympic Ass-Kickin’ Team are always good for some damn levity. From their newly available 3-song EP, YEAH WOOOOO, Anderson, silly and witty as ever, leads the OAKTeam through the baddest GAP Band song the Wilson Brothers never recorded. After all, who wouldn’t want to be the great Raymond Calhoun?

Peter Holsapple - The Face of 68

One of the best rock albums I’ve heard in a while, last year’s The Face of 68 finds Peter Holsapple leaning into the riffs and the wit. Most of these tracks bristle with the joy of just rocking out. The arrangements are masterful, the songwriting sharp, at times simultaneously angry and poignant (“Larger than Life”), other times off-kilter (“My Idea #49”). Although it’s as ‘eavy as the Who in places, The Face of 68 never betrays Holsapple’s power pop sensibilities (the joyful closer, “She and Me”). Then there’s “That Kind of Guy,” which is just a tad too relatable. And just in time for Record Store Day….

Jack White - “Derecho Demonico”

Jack White premiered his new two-sided single on SNL earlier this month, and while “G.O.D. and the Broken Ribs” lumbers along as White imagines a new dawn for Adam and Eve, it’s Derecho Demonico” that brings the powerful ‘70s-style riff-rock, with a groove and tone that would make Leslie West sweat.

Paul McCartney - “Days We Left Behind”

Have your eyes welled up today? If not, here’s their chance…

Massive Attack / Tom Waits - “Boots on the Ground”

And we’re back to where we started. Where Todd Snider’s seemingly final plea is for us to work for peace, the bleak shadows surrounding the chain-gang sonics of this collab between Massive Attack and Tom Waits threaten to swallow any last hope we have of finding peace of any kind. “Who the hell are these federal pricks?” Waits growls as he excoriates them for “hiding in the Senate like a bloated ass tick.” They’re all “air-conditioned fuckstick loafers sittin’ in a room full of army posters.” Coming on the heels of our Secretary of War and his cronies cosplaying while treating war as a video game, “Boots on the Ground” reflects the anger and frustration most of us feel as we watch our nation slide deeper and deeper into an idiocracy.

Happy 250th, America.

It was the year of increased activism and explicit pushback against the status quo; the US substantially increased the number of troops in Vietnam—up to 250,000 by spring—amping up protests throughout the nation; Richard Speck1 and Charles Whitman2 both revealed how dark the soul can get; LSD was made illegal; Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale formed the Black Panther Party in Oakland a month before Ronald Reagan was elected Governor of California; the Oscars saw The Sound of Music and Doctor Zhivago battling it out, with five and ten noms respectively (Sound ultimately won Best Picture and Best Director); and John Lennon proclaimed that the Beatles were “more popular than Jesus,” prompting Time to ask:

TV and Film

In September, Gene Roddenberry boldly went where no one had gone before and created a little show called Star Trek. Although it initially lasted only three seasons, it spawned numerous spin-offs, films, and while doing so, became a cultural phenomenon.

A few months earlier, ABC premiered a daytime soap opera that really sucked. Dark Shadows followed the shenanigans of one Barnabas Collins and his cohorts as they roamed around their mansion in Maine, many decades before What We Do in the Shadows set up shop in Long Island.

Shedding the Dark Knight image of the comics, Batman premiered on ABC in January and became classic camp.3 Adam West is still the best damn Caped Crusader, and I’ll stand on Christian Bale’s coffee table wrapped in my utility belt and say that.

Hey! Hey! The Monkees debuted, as did Marlo…

Long before he became a gladiator movie enthusiast, Peter Graves—along with Martin Landau, Steven Hill, Greg Morris, Barbara Bain, and others—chose to accept a mission, an impossible one at that, every week. (Graves didn’t join until the following season. Thanks for the reminder, . I’ll send you a toy airplane.)

It was also the year that saw the debut of two of our greatest and goofiest game shows.

Every afternoon when I got home from school, I wanted to watch my damn shows. Be it Sesame Street, Mister Rogers, the Electric Company, or, when I got a little older, my favorite cop show, Starsky and Hutch.4 The problem was that my uncle lived with us, and he loved Rat Patrol, which always seemed to be on whenever whatever I wanted to see was on. To me, all it looked like were a bunch of guys riding through the desert. It was the most boring nonsense in the world. I still despise this logo and intro to this day…

Meanwhile, on the big screen, the final—and best—part of Sergio Leone’s classic spaghetti western trilogy, The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly, splashed across theaters everywhere, powered by Ennio Morricone’s unequaled score. To me, the film is bested only by Leone’s own Once Upon a Time in the West, a couple of years later.

Don Knotts starred in the greatest role of his career that wasn’t Barney Fife….

…while a young hotshot country singer makes his film debut.

And who can forget Thunderbirds Are Go!?

…or Raquel Welch’s fur bikini?

The Music

Sure, there was a British Invasion in the mid-’60s, but by 1966, there was also a Tijuana takeover. By summer, Herb Alpert and his Tijuana Brass ruled the Billboard albums chart, with no less than three albums in the Top Ten: What Now My Love, Going Places, and the ubiquitous Whipped Cream and Other Delights, which became the biggest-selling album of the year (even though it was actually released in spring of ‘65). I’m sure the cover didn’t hurt.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, released in the spring of 1967, is considered ground zero in the “album as an art form” debate, as the majority of LPs before then were more collections of singles, covers, and filler. But there’s a strong argument for 1966 as well. It was the year, after all, of the Beatles’ own Revolver and the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, as well as Blonde on Blonde and Freak Out!—two double LPs that explored and expanded the possibilities of the rock album as an extended art form.

Speaking of Dylan, the Minnesota Bard may have “gone electric” in July of 1965 in Newport, but in 1966, with his new backup group (soon to be named The Band) in tow, he took that electric show on the road. As Robbie Robertson later said, “I didn’t know of anybody in history that toured the world and got booed every single night.”5 By July, Dylan would be injured in a motorpsycho nightmare, two years after singing about one, setting up the next phase of his career, and ultimately, rock music in general.

Meanwhile, Jimmy Page joined The Yardbirds, initially on bass, but soon switched to guitar, just in time to trade licks with Jeff Beck in a cameo in Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow Up.6

Coincidentally, in 1966, the Band of Joy formed near Birmingham, England, which included a young Robert Plant and John Bonham.

Still, the most exciting music happening in 1966 was Soul. From Hitsville to Soulsville, the year saw the release of a mountain of classics. “When a Man Loves a Woman,” “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg,” “In the Midnight Hour,” “Reach Out, I’ll Be There,” and others crossed over from R&B onto the pop charts, fighting against the British Invasion with powerful vocals, arrangements, and songwriting that rivaled anything coming from across the pond, or anywhere else.

Finally, two 45s that hit shelves in December of ‘66 hinted at where music was headed. A young guitar slinger from Seattle with a long list of credits already under his belt (as well as time spent in the 101st Airborne7) released his first single in the UK. “Hey Joe,” already a staple for many folk artists over the last few years, became Jimi Hendrix’s (and the Experience’s) introduction to most of the world, and set a course for his immortality.

Meanwhile, Tom Wilson, who’d worked with the Mothers of Invention, Simon and Garfunkel, and the Animals that same year, was producing the final session for a new group called the Velvet Underground. “Sunday Morning” was a haunting listen, but it sounded not too out of line for a pop song in 1966. It did little to prepare listeners for the rest of the album (released in March of the following year).8

The Best of 1966

What follows are 20 albums plus 20 honorable mentions I either grew up with or discovered at various points over the years, followed by a Mixtape of 66 songs that pull from this list and 26 more albums and/or singles at least worth mentioning. If you don’t see a favorite, feel free to let me know in the comments.

Otis Redding - Complete & Unbelievable: The Otis Redding Dictionary of Soul

When an album launches with “Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa (Sad Song),” includes “Try a Little Tenderness,” and “My Lover’s Prayer,” it’s hard not to categorize it as one of the best soul albums of all time. Add inspired interpretations of everything from the Beatles to Patti Page (“Day Tripper” and “Tennessee Waltz,” respectively), and the competition narrows even more. Otis gave us his all in just a few short years, but if he’d only left us with this Dictionary of Soul, it would have been more than enough.

Merle Haggard and the Strangers - Swinging Doors and the Bottle Let Me Down

Like most albums of its time, Swinging Doors / The Bottle Let Me Down, as its title suggests, was more a collection of singles and filler than a long-playing statement. Still, the Hag’s third album, co-credited with his group, The Strangers, contains enough stellar material that it pointed the way to the many masterpieces to come.

John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers - With Eric Clapton (or, Beano)

Eric Clapton high-tailed it from the Yardbirds because he wanted to dig deep down into the blues. He soon found a kindred spirit in the father of English blues, John Mayall. Together—along with John McVie on bass and Hughie Flint on drums—they recorded one of the most important blues albums by a group of white guys. While it pales in comparison to the likes of what was coming out of Chicago on the Chess and Delmark labels, it still came across raw and visceral, and—along with the Stones, the Animals, and, yes, the Yardbirds—it helped to introduce a generation of pigmentally challenged kids to the blues, for better and worse.

Cream - Fresh Cream

Released at the end of 1966, Fresh Cream signaled the debut of the first “power trio.” The album acted as the bridge between the blues (that Clapton had just explored with Mayall months earlier) and hard rock—even heavy metal—that would define much of rock music well into the 1970s and beyond. From the extended jam on Willie Dixon’s “Spoonful” and the standard “Rollin’ and Tumblin’” to their re-imagining of Skip James’s “I’m So Glad,” and measured take on Robert Johnson’s “From Four ‘til Late” (the second Johnson song Clapton recorded that year), their draw to the blues was obvious. However, there was also a strong pop and psychedelic side, as when Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker share equal space along with Clapton on “Toad.”

Slim Harpo - Baby, Scratch My Back

The title track was released in ‘65, but it hit number one on Billboard’s R&B chart in ‘66, coinciding with this album’s release, which also included the relentless groove of “Shake Your Hips,” that Stones fans would know from the version on Exile on Main St. The title track here is still one of the sexiest songs ever pressed to wax, while “Midnight Blues” and “Buzzin’” helped prove that Slim Harpo was the undisputed king of swamp blues.

Rolling Stones - Aftermath

Speaking of the Stones, like most of their early albums, Aftermath featured a different track listing/order in the UK than in the US. We can argue about whether the one that kicks off with “Mother’s Little Helper” (UK) or the one with “Paint It Black” (US) was the better set, but either way, Aftermath stands as one of the best and most consistent albums of their first decade.

13th Floor Elevators - The Psychedelic Sounds Of The 13th Floor Elevators

You want psychedelic music? Well, it’s right here in the title! Self-awareness aside, this platter of Texas-bred acid rock burst forth from the imagination of Roky Erickson, whose spontaneous yet well-placed squalls and guitar noodling were supported by Tommy Hall’s groovy electric jug. Turn on, tune in, trip out.

Nina Simone - Wild is the Wind

As far as albums of leftovers go, you could do worse than Wild is the Wind. Made up of songs recorded from previous sessions, Simone’s third release in 1966 sounds as cohesive and consistent as if its contents were all recorded in one day. Among the treasures are the captivating title track, her arresting take on “Black is the Color of My True Lover’s Hair,” and the devastating “Four Women,” which boasts Simone at her most chillingly powerful.

The Butterfield Blues Band - East-West

Following up their influential debut, The Paul Butterfield Blues Band doubled down on the blues by expanding it on East-West. White-boy blues moved into psychedelic, even jazzy territory as they placed an ear to the future, especially on the forward-looking epic title track.

Wilson Pickett - The Exciting Wilson Pickett

Talk about truth in advertising. The Wicked Pickett was never not exciting. It didn’t matter if it was a heart-wrenching ballad or a dance floor-packing raver; he always commanded the complete attention of the listener. The Exciting Wilson Pickett found soul music’s greatest shouter at the very peak of his powers, backed by the Swampers and a peerless set of classics, soul rarely—if ever—sounded better.

The Mothers of Invention - Freak Out!

If this album just boasted “Trouble Every Day,” it would be seen as prescient sixty years on, as, sadly, the topics covered in it are still filling our news feeds, well, “every day.” But Freak Out! is so much more. One of the first double LPs of the rock era (Blonde On Blonde made it to record stores a mere week before), Zappa’s first stands as one of the most daring debuts of the ‘60s or any era, as it skewered not only the “plastic people” and squares of society, but the counter-culture as well.

The Yardbirds - Roger the Engineer [UK] / Over Under Sideways Down [US]

Whether you go for the UK (on the left) or US version, the first Yardbirds album featuring Jeff Beck (and their first of all original material) displayed a band stretching past their blues roots into psychedelic and eastern musical influences, pointing the way to an entirely new direction that a whole new generation would soon embrace.

Bob Dylan - Blonde On Blonde

Not one song is less than classic, not one performance is less than inspired. It’s that “thin wild mercury sound” of Dylan at its most, well, mercurial. Then he crashed. Literally.

The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

“Good Vibrations” is one of the greatest singles of the rock era, and it’s not even on what many cite as the greatest album of the rock era. That’s just how the Beach Boys were rolling back then. Brian Wilson’s creativity was seemingly boundless; even the Beatles were racing to keep up.

The Sonics - Boom

Tacoma, Washington’s The Sonics were a blast of glorious garage noise in the mid-’60s. Following up the primal punk energy of their debut was no easy feat, but The Sonics somehow made it happen with the perfectly-titled Boom. From the frenetic opener, “Cinderella,” to the VU-crashing intensity of “Shot Down”—they even made “Louie Louie” sound trashier than the Kingsmen—there’s no other way to play this but loud as hell.

Simon & Garfunkel - Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

Equal parts achingly beautiful (Scarborough Fair), introspective soul-searching (“Homeward Bound” - a road song long before “Turn the Page” or “The Load-Out”) obnoxiously pretentious (“The Dangling Conversation”), and smugly Dylanesque (“A Simple Desultory Philippic”), Simon & Garfunkel’s second classic release in 1966 bests Sounds of Silence by just a hair atop Art’s curly head.

Red Simpson - Roll, Truck, Roll

There’s probably not a better truck drivin’ song than “Truck Drivin’ Man,” but I always thought it was hilarious that he calls the waitress over to tell her that the song on the jukebox sure does fit him, ‘cause he’s “a truck drivin’ man.” I can just imagine the waitress’s expression and response (“Um, ok?”) as she’s trying to fill orders in a crowded truck stop, while this guy’s probably not even a good tipper. Still, Red Simpson’s Roll Truck Roll is what you need on a long haul from the Carolinas to California while you’re dodgin’ scales, poppin’ pills, and keepin’ ol’ Smokey off your tail.

The Mama’s and the Papa’s - If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears

For modern ears, it may be easy to dismiss the Mamas & the Papas as square pop singers that didn’t quite fit in with the counterculture that was coming of age in the mid-’60s. In fact, however, they were at the forefront of it, with John Phillips helping organize the groundbreaking and era-defining Monterey Pop Festival just a year later. To that end, their debut proved that one didn’t need “Beatles” in their name to deftly mix pop, soul, folk, and rock.

The Kinks - Face to Face

Like many artists’ work in 1966, Face to Face signaled the Kinks’ turn from mainly a singles band into a more album-oriented one. While the Who was still working their way into the rock opera world (with that year’s A Quick One), the Davies Brothers were busy constructing one of rock’s first concept albums, detailing Ray’s enhanced character studies and his growing fascination with England’s class system. Although their material would deepen over the next few years, Face to Face was the Kinks’ biggest leap forward in the shortest amount of time.

The Beatles - Revolver

In 1966, the Beatles said goodbye to the road to focus on the studio, and we were all the better for it. Revolver is the sound of the world’s greatest band at the top of its powers, searching—and finding—innovative sounds and breaking new ground in real time.

Honorable Mentions:

Frank Sinatra - Sinatra at the Sands

Roger Miller - Words and Music

The Supremes - I Hear A Symphony

Paul Revere and the Raiders - Midnight Ride

Wayne Shorter - Speak No Evil

The Remains - The Remains

Love - Da Capo

The Temptations - Gettin’ Ready

Small Faces - Small Faces

Sam & Dave - Hold On, I’m Comin’

Neil Diamond - The Feel of Neil Diamond

Them - Them Again

Marvin Gaye - Moods of Marvin Gaye

Buffalo Springfield - Buffalo Springfield

The Seeds - The Seeds

Lee Hazelwood - The Very Special World of Lee Hazelwood

Lee Dorsey - The New Lee Dorsey

The Monkees - The Monkees

Sergio Mendes - Herb Alpert Presents Sergio Mendes & Brasil ‘66

The Byrds - Fifth Dimension

The Big 66 from ‘66 Mixtape:

Now, for all of the above plus 16 more, here’s a Mixtape of The Big 66 from ‘66. You’ll see/hear some tunes from albums that almost made the list, as well as a few well-worn pop favorites. As always, the following Mixtape was carefully sequenced to maximize enjoyment, but if you’d rather just hit “shuffle,” feel free. (Although I will be over here silently judging you.)

If you see any of your favorites missing, please let me know in the comments. No matter how much time I put into these things, I always miss something obvious. It’s maddening.

One more program note: You may have noticed the Spotify playlist has not been included in the last couple of newsletters. Instead, I’m offering, at the link below, a way for you to listen to the Mixtape of these songs on the streaming service of your choosing. You’ve got the power of choice and free will—go for it!

Click here to listen on your preferred listening service.

Further Reading:

Augie Meyers wasn’t flashy, nor did he try to be. He always landed in the groove and played what the song required. That said, his mighty Vox Continental influenced garage bands far and wide. It’s not out of line to say that if it hadn’t been for the iconic organ riff that grounds the Sir Douglas Quintet’s classic, “She’s About A Mover,” there’d be no “96 Tears” from ? and the Mysterians—or it at least would’ve sounded much different.

Here are fifteen tunes that showcase a true Texas legend, and the major part he played in weaving rock, Tex-Mex, Conjunto, swamp pop, country, soul, and blues into a mighty jambalaya.

Texas Tornados - “Hey Baby, Qué Paso”

Meyers’s showcase in the Texas Tornados became one of their most enduring hits. It doesn’t matter how bad your day may get; this little slice of Texas should never fail to pick you up.

Sir Douglas Quintet - “Mendocino”

Coming back together after their initial success out west and overseas, the Sir Douglas Quintet, like Tony Joe White around this same time, made an appearance on Hugh Hefner’s part-pretentious-part-hip Playboy After Dark. Dig Augie’s smooth style here…

Doug Sahm - “Rains Came”

Originally a hit in 1966 for the Quintet, Sahm and Meyers rocked it out best on Austin City Limits.

Augie Meyers - “Roll Up Some Inspiration”

From Augie’s first solo album in 1971, his cosmic hippie cowboy ethos was on full display.

Augie Meyers - “She Belongs to Me”

Throughout his career, when he hasn’t been helping make others sound like rootsy naturals, Augie occasionally recorded his own projects, like this take on Dylan’s “She Belongs to Me,” which, in Augie's hands, sounds like it came straight from Lone Star dirt.

Bob Dylan - “Love Sick”

Speaking of Dylan, during the sessions for what became Time Out of Mind, Augie’s ghostly Vox Continental and accordion can be heard not only on that Grammy-winning set, but also on Dylan’s follow-up, “Love and Theft.”

Dylan once said of Augie:

“Augie’s my man. He’s like an intellectual who goes fishing
using bookworms. Seriously though, he’s the shining example of a
musician, Vox player or otherwise, who can break the code. His
playing speaks volumes. Speaks in tongue actually. He can bring
a song, certainly any one of mine, into the real world. I’ve
loved his playing going all the way back to the Sir Doug days
when he was featured and dominant. What makes him so great is
that internally speaking, he’s the master of syncopation and
timing. And this is something that cannot be taught. If you need
someone to get you through the shipping lanes and there’s no
detours, Augie will get you right straight through, Augie’s your
man.”

Augie Meyers “Did I Tell You (That I Love You)”

The kick-off to 1986’s Augie’s Back featured fellow Tornado Falco Jimenez on accordion.

Augie Meyers and the Western Head Band - “Down to Mexico”

Sitting still to this one has always been an impossible feat. One of the many groups, with various names, Augie recorded/performed with over the years.

Augie Meyers - “Before I Grow Too Old”

Augie did justice to this classic slice of swamp pop by Bobby Charles. From 1984’s August in New York.

John Hammond - “Jockey Full of Bourbon”

Another mighty roots musician who recently passed, John Paul Hammond, recruited Augie to help out with his Tom Waits tribute project, Wicked Grin. Augie lets loose on this jittery take on “Jockey Full of Bourbon,” sounding not too unlike a flatland version of Garth Hudson, another early collaborator of Hammond’s.

Augie Meyers - “Pipeliner Blues”

In 2023, Augie contributed an easy-going take on “Pipeliner Blues” for a truly fun tribute compilation to Moon Mullican. He makes the boogie seem effortless.

Augie Meyers - “You Ain’t Rolling Your Roll Rite”

Augie kept recording up to the very end. This is an updated take of the title track from his 1973 solo effort, this one from 2024’s Chicken Fried Bacon Grease. It’s just a shuffle blues, but it’s also some of the best music God ever allowed to be made.

Augie Meyers with Los Texamaniacs - Ay Ai Ai

From the Grammy-winning Clifton Chenier tribute from last year, Augie went out on a high note, and the perfect venue to show how all this roots music mixes together like the best gumbo one could ever hope to make.

Sir Douglas Quintet - “She’s About a Mover”

Of course, this is here. After all, it’s where it all began…

Augie Meyers - “Deep in the Heart of Texas”

One more for the road as Augie pays tribute to his home state as only he could.

The Tornados are all together again; let’s hope rock’n’roll heaven is having one helluva fiesta.

Last year, I celebrated our first year with a Mixtape of album openers. It seems only fitting that this time, we flip over the cassette and compile the best side two-track ones across the musical spectrum.

While the first song on any Mixtape—and album for that matter—is the most important piece of the puzzle, the track that opens the flipside is the next crucial element.

The idea of a side two experience fell by the wayside in the 1990s as CDs replaced LPs and cassettes. As a result, albums became longer and more unwieldy. A concise 35 to 40-minute platter had grown—by the early ‘90s—to 50, 60, even 70 minutes, around the length of a ‘70s-era double album. (I nerded out during this time, splitting albums into sides anyway, finding where I figured the split should be. It was a fun game for a spell.)

Considering this, most of these tracks date back to before the ‘90s, when solid second sides were well established. A good second side opener should set the pace for what follows, yet still be a fitting album opener in its own right in other contexts. “Born to Run,” for example, would be a perfect opener for many an album, but for Born to Run itself, no other track could launch the LP more perfectly than “Thunder Road.”

So, here are 100 of my favorite “side two, track ones,” or flipsiders, if you will. Feel free to add your faves in the comments. Thanks to all who’ve subscribed over the last two years. I’m honored that you spend at least a small part of your time with me each week. Thanks, also, for helping spread the word about The Mixtape.

Click here to access this Mixtape on your preferred streaming service.

1. “Born to Run” - Bruce Springsteen

2. “Spinning Wheel” - Blood, Sweat, & Tears

3. “Spill the Wine” - Eric Burdon & War

4. “Right On” - Marvin Gaye

5. “Stir It Up” Bob Marley & The Wailers

6. “Busload of Faith” - Lou Reed

7. “Move On Up” - Curtis Mayfield

8. “Nobody’s Fault but Mine” - Led Zeppelin

9. “Have Mercy On the Criminal” - Elton John

10. “Holiday” - Madonna

11. “Turn It On Again” - Genesis

12. “Street Fighting Man” - The Rolling Stones

13. “Cause We’ve Ended As Lovers” - Jeff Beck

14. “I’ve Seen All Good People” - Yes

15. “Perfect Strangers” - Deep Purple

16. “Rock & Roll Band” - Boston

17. “Boogie Wonderland” - Earth, Wind & Fire feat. The Emotions

18. “Here Comes the Sun” - The Beatles

19. “Phone Call from Leavenworth” - Chris Whitley

20. “The Chain” - Fleetwood Mac

21. “Song for Sharon” - Joni Mitchell

22. “You’ve Got a Friend” - Carole King

23. “Saint Dominic’s Preview” - Van Morrison

24. “Dr. Feelgood (Love Is Serious Business)” - Aretha Franklin

25. “Walking on the Moon” - The Police

26. “Kickstart My Heart” - Mötley Crüe

27. “Raw Power” - Iggy & The Stooges

28. “Bad Company” - Bad Company

29. “Wooden Ships” - Crosby, Stills & Nash

30. “Karn Evil 9 1st Impression, Pt. 2” - Emerson, Lake & Palmer

31. “Jungle Love” - Steve Miller Band

32. “Jungle Love” - The Time

33. “When Doves Cry” - Prince & The Revolution

34. “The Number of the Beast” - Iron Maiden

35. “Can’t Get There From Here” - R.E.M.

36. “Sweet Emotion” - Aerosmith

37. “Fortunate Son” - Creedence Clearwater Revival

38. “Had Me a Real Good Time” - Faces

39. “These Days” - Gregg Allman

40. “The Boxer” - Simon & Garfunkel

41. “Dog & Butterfly” - Heart

42. “Dixieland Delight” - Alabama

43. “Presence of the Lord” - Blind Faith

44. “Bad to the Bone” - George Thorogood & The Destroyers

45. “Hoodoo Man Blues” - Junior Wells’ Chicago Blues Band

46. “Riding with the King” - John Hiatt

47. “Powderfinger” - Neil Young & Crazy Horse

48. “You Got That Right” - Lynyrd Skynyrd

49. “Margaritaville” - Jimmy Buffett

50. “Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore” - John Prine

51. “Fire and Brimstone” - Link Wray

52. “The Wind Cries Mary” - The Jimi Hendrix Experience

53. “Heartache Tonight” - Eagles

54. “Hot for Teacher” - Van Halen

55. “Southbound” - The Allman Brothers Band

56. “Roll Me Away” - Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band

57. “Higher Ground” - Stevie Wonder

58. “Maggie May” - Rod Stewart

59. “In a Silent Way” - Miles Davis

60. “30 Days In the Hole” - Humble Pie

61. “Hotel Illness” - The Black Crowes

62. “Heroin” - The Velvet Underground & Nico

63. “My Michelle” - Guns N’ Roses

64. “Disposable Heroes” - Metallica

65. “Funny Vibe” - Living Colour

66. “Beat It” - Michael Jackson

67. “The Shape I’m In” - The Band

68. “When My Baby’s Beside Me” - Big Star

69. “Kid” - Pretenders

70. “Career Opportunities” - The Clash

71. “We Got the Beat” - The Go-Go’s

72. “Teenage Lobotomy” - Ramones

73. “Echoes” - Pink Floyd

74. “The Camera Eye” - Rush

75. “Switchboard Susan” - Nick Lowe

76. “Bang a Gong (Get It On)” - T. Rex

77. “Runaway Train” - Rosanne Cash

78. “I’d Rather Be Blind, Crippled And Crazy” - O.V. Wright

79. “Sweet Home Chicago” - Magic Sam

80. “It’s Too Late” - The Isley Brothers

81. “Cold Shot” - Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble

82. “Bastards of Young” - The Replacements

83. “You’re All I’ve Got Tonight” - The Cars

84. “Reelin’ In The Years” - Steely Dan

85. “Once In a Lifetime” - Talking Heads

86. “Back Door Man” - The Doors

87. “Mother” - Danzig

88. “Industrial Disease” - Dire Straits

89. “Make It Better (Forget About Me)” - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers

90. “She Bop” - Cyndi Lauper

91. “The Killing Moon” - Echo & The Bunnymen

92. “Flamethrower” - The J. Geils Band

93. “Sin City” - AC/DC

94. “No More Mr. Nice Guy” - Alice Cooper

95. “Bloody Mary Morning” - Willie Nelson

96. “Can’t Let Go” - Lucinda Williams

97. “8 Miles a Gallon” - Scott Miller & The Commonwealth

98. “Going Down” - Freddie King

99. “Mama Don’t” - J.J. Cale

100. “Hillbilly Band” - The Marshall Tucker Band

So many love songs deal in platitudes and hyperbole—a lot of “hanging the moon” type of nonsense. That’s all well and good when the two of you are making out in a back room or a backseat, or even when you’re saying your vows at the altar. But what about when the rent comes due, or the laundry needs folding, or the dog needs their heartworm meds, or you need to ensure each other’s medicines are administered properly, or where the passwords are for the bank and other online accounts?

Love may be a many-splendored thing, but it’s more than just flowers and candy and public pronouncements. For this Valentine’s Day, here’s a Mixtape of songs by and for grown-ass people. It’s made up of tunes that illustrate what it takes to stick it out during the tough times, the bad times, the lean times, the times of doubt and uncertainty. Telling someone you’d walk 500 miles and then you’d walk 500 more only works if you’re willing to help pay the bills, empty the trash, and mow the damn lawn once you get there.

Happy Valentine’s Day to those who celebrate love in all its unpoetic, dirty, resilient, frustrating, beautiful complexity, including the love of my life, Liz—for whom I would absolutely hang the moon if I could. Until I can, I hope she’ll settle for me to help cook dinner, empty the litter box, and keep the toilets clean.

Click here to access this Mixtape on your preferred streaming service.

However, others settled for comfort while relaxing in a nice wicker chair. I mean, is that so wrong? What follows are a few who chose relaxation over experimentation, yet still found creative avenues while presenting their wicker ways.

By the late ‘70s, even country artists jumped into the wicker game…

…while others brought a little more soul.

Open collared shirts enhanced the experience.

Some opted for a more formal look, but even they couldn’t resist a nice fern.

For some, a wicker chair was so comfortable that they fell asleep during the shoot…

…and looked quite grumpy if awakened.

Who needs ferns when you’ve got funk?

…and style…

Multicolored arrangements could sometimes threaten to take over the shoot…

…but mostly, everything in the ‘70s were just so darn-tootin’ brown and brown-adjacent. (Caused by the overwhelming amounts of nicotine in the air, no doubt.)

The lapels. The gown. The fern. The name:

Your furniture should always complement your space.

When your chair is so swanky, there’s room for two.

There’s also no reason why you can’t accessorize your wicker…

…and Lady Gaga even wickered out for this year’s Grammy Awards.

’Til next time, stay positive, practice radical empathy, and if anyone tries to steal your joy, tell ‘em to take a seat. You got this.

See also:

Back in 2011, Warren Haynes released his second solo album, Man in Motion. It’s a title he’s lived up to as a veteran of the road and the studio for well over 40 years, both solo and in groups such as the Allman Brothers Band, Gov’t Mule, Phil Lesh and Friends, and The Dead. Haynes has also shared stages with many of the most legendary names in music, toured with a jazz legend, played with a Reverend, and for a US President. Now, with 2026 well underway, he’s still on the move.

Since the last time we talked, in November of 2024, Haynes released the acclaimed Million Voices Whisper. That was followed in September of last year by The Whisper Sessions, a digital-only, stripped-down take on those same songs, plus covers of the Allman Brothers Band’s “Melissa” (with Derek Trucks on slide) and the Tammy Wynette classic “‘Til I Can Make It On My Own.”

On November 22 and 23, in response to the devastation in Florida and Western North Carolina (which included his hometown of Asheville)—caused by Hurricanes Milton and Helene, respectively—Haynes helped organize a benefit concert at Madison Square Garden dubbed “Soulshine: A Benefit for Hurricane Relief and Recovery.” Including appearances by the Dave Matthews Band, Goose, Nathaniel Ratliff & the Night Sweats, Mavis Staples, Susan Tedeschi, Derek Trucks, and others, the event raised around $4.5 million for those affected.1

Due to the devastation in Western NC, Haynes’s Annual Christmas Jam—which raises money each year for the Asheville Area Habitat for Humanity and BeLoved Asheville—was cancelled for December of 2024, but returned in full force the following year for its 33rd installment, featuring appearences by Stone Temple Pilots, MJ Lenderman, Daniel Donato, Maggie Rose, Edwin McCain, and others.

Now, Haynes is kicking off 2026 by looking back. He’s reissuing his 1993 solo debut, Tales of Ordinary Madness, on the mighty Megaforce Records.

By 1993, Haynes was four years and two albums into his tenure with the Allman Brothers Band. He was still a year away from forming Gov’t Mule with bassist Allen Woody and drummer Matt Abts, but he was armed with a handful of demos that he was ready to make into an album. Along with longtime ABB extended family member, Chuck Leavell, Haynes co-produced what became Tales of Ordinary Madness (the title inspired by a book of short stories by Charles Bukowski).

Madness came out at a time when Southern Rock as a (sub)genre was experiencing something of a comeback, as the likes of the Black Crowes (for whom Leavell had played on their 1990 debut, Shake Your Money Maker) and a handful of others south of the Mason-Dixon were making an impact on rock radio and the charts. Much of Madness rocked hard, tempered with complex arrangements that kept you engaged, while Haynes got a chance to shine as a lyricist and vocalist in addition to his already acknowledged guitar prowess. Leadoff track, “Fire in the Kitchen,” set the tone for most everything that followed.

It wasn’t all hard’n’heavy, however. “Blue Radio” is atmospheric blues and soul that never fails to captivate, while decades later, “I’ll Be the One” still sounds like a great lost hit single and stands as one of Haynes’s greatest vocal performances; an aching, pleading love song for the ages.

Overall, Tales of Ordinary Madness acted as a perfect primer for what lay ahead for Haynes—and his fans—for the next 30-plus years.

I spoke with Haynes and Chuck Leavell about what it was like going back to Madness, as well as Haynes’s upcoming solo tour, working with Billy Bob Thornton on a new song for Landman, and what’s going on in the world of Gov’t Mule. But first, we discussed his recent appearance on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.

What was it like playing with the Late Show band last week, and how did that come about?

WH: Fun, you know, it just came about organically. I’ve been friends with Louis Cato for quite a few years, and we ran into each other at his Soho Sessions benefit show. And he said something to me about coming down to sit in with those guys before they ended their tenure, so to speak. And it turned into me saying, ‘Why don’t you come join us on New Year’s Eve?’ So [Cato] came down and joined Gov’t Mule for three songs during our New Year’s Eve set, and then I went and joined him for [Colbert]. It was fun. That’s a great band.

You guys did “Life As We Know It” [from Million Voices Whisper]. How much rehearsal was needed?

WH: Not a bunch, really. They learned it in advance. We ran through it once at rehearsal that afternoon, and it sounded great.

What was the idea behind reissuing your first solo album, Tales of Ordinary Madness, now?

WH: Well, I always wanted to remix that record because even though I was happy with it at the time, that was in a time period when the sonic approach to records was still a little held over from the late 80s / early 90s. They had a lot of reverb, EQ, and processing. A couple of years after I made that record, things went back to more like a ‘70s, organic approach, which has proven to be quite a timeless sound. So I always wanted to remix it with that in mind. Then, a year ago, or something, I ran into Missi Callazzo, who owns Megaforce Records now, and I brought that up to her, and she said, ‘Funny, you mentioned that. I’ve been thinking the same thing. Why don’t we remix it in honor of the 30th anniversary?’ And so we agreed on Jim Scott to remix it, and he did a fantastic job. This version sounds a little more like I envisioned it sounding.

When I first picked up the CD back in ‘93, I got a kick out of the fact that it was on Megaforce, the metal label that was home to Metallica, Anthrax, Testament, etc. How’d that relationship come to be?

WH: Well, they were looking to diversify, expand, and go in some non-metal directions. And I was a fan of some of the stuff they were doing, like King’s X. So, I met with them, and they were just very passionate and encouraging and supportive. It turned out to be the right thing.

How did Chuck Leavell get tapped to produce?

WH: When we were thinking about producers, we put a bunch of names in a hat. My manager at the time, Doc Field, knew him, and he had asked me, ‘What about Chuck?’

CL: Doc was a real sweet fella, and he told me, ‘I got this guy, he can do it all. He can write. He could sing….great guitar player.” And I said, ‘Okay, send me something.’ He sent me some demos. I think they were ‘Fire in the Kitchen’ and ‘Blue Radio.’ And I said, “Well, yeah, you’re right. He can do it all!’

WH: At that time, we didn’t know each other, but we were mutual fans, and we both had our relationship with the Allman Brothers music, and I thought, ‘Yeah, that would be a great idea.’ So, Doc set up a meeting, and, of course, we hit it off. Got along famously, and it just made sense. And Chuck is a fantastic musician.

CL: I was extremely impressed with what I heard, so I had a conversation with Warren. We talked about logistics and doing it in Atlanta, and talked about the musicians. He asked me, ‘Can you play on it?’ Yeah, I’ll play. I can co-produce and play. And so we put all that together, and Doc had done the deal. So we started the sessions, and everybody was well prepared. Warren was certainly very well prepared, you know? He had written the songs and had a good vision for what to do. And as we went through the process, each song kind of dictated the instrumentation, whether I would play on it or not, or whether I would do organ or piano or both. It was just a wonderful experience.

Tales of Ordinary Madness is populated with some major talent. How’d you recruit the musicians?

WH: Well, before I moved to New York, I had been doing all these demos with Michael Rhodes and Greg Morrow as the rhythm section. And Chuck Leavell was on a few of those as well. Then, when I moved to New York, I teamed up with Steve Holly and Lincoln Schleifer, and we were doing some gigs around the New York area. So, they learned all that material. I wanted to use both rhythm sections. It was really just a wish list for me, of all the people I’d like to be on my first record.

CL: I’ve been friends with Randall Bramblett for such a long time. He was in Sea Level with me, and I played on his first solo record going back to the early ‘70s. Greg Morrow had done a lot of work in Nashville and was very seasoned and very quick. And Michael Rhodes, oh, my God. He was a genius on the bass; such a sad thing that we don’t have him anymore. But he was a great contributor, and very seasoned, and, you know, helped to make things go quickly.

This reissue has added “Tear Me Down” to the tracklist. I remember seeing you, Warren, perform that song during the Man in Motion tour with the Warren Haynes Band. Why was it left off the original release?

WH: We were over budget and out of time, and we just weren’t able to finish it. Something had to go. So that wound up being the sacrificial lamb. It was always one of my favorite tracks, too. So I hated that we weren’t able to include it back then. So when I went in, before we did these remixes, I revisited and finalized it, and, man, it was just such a pleasure to hear all that stuff after all these years. And that one is one of my favorites on the record. That’s Randall Bramblett [Sea Level, Traffic] on saxophone and Bernie Worrell [Parliament-Funkadelic] on clavinet.

Warren, you’ve got a new song on the latest soundtrack for Landman, co-written with Billy Bob Thornton and Mark Collie. How did that come about?

WH: Well, Billy and I’ve been friends for a long time. You know, he appeared on “The River Only Flows One Way” as a kind of spoken word vocal performance on the last Gov’t Mule record [Peace…Like a River]. We’ve written a couple of songs together over the years, and he called me recently and said that he and Mark Collie were working on this song, “Desiree,” and wanted to get me involved with it. So, they sent it to me, and I was really happy with what they had. I added my own thing to it, and it wound up being part of this soundtrack.

You’ve got a solo tour coming up this year. When was the last time you went on a multi-date tour just by yourself?

WH: Well, I’ve never done a real tour that way. I did a handful of dates strung together years ago, but it’s been a long, long time. Usually, I just do one or two or three. I’ve always wanted to do an actual tour. For whatever reason, it took until now to do that.

Was the decision for the solo tour inspired by last year’s Whisper Sessions?

WH: Yeah, that was probably part of the inspiration for it.

Turning to Gov’t Mule, you’re heading out with them this year as well. [Drummer] Matt Abts had to sit out some shows recently. How’s he doing?

WH: Matt’s doing okay, though he’s been having issues with his back. He chalks it up to 60-something years of playing drums.

The Mule just celebrated their 30th anniversary in 2025. The last time we talked, there were plans to reissue the first album with a bonus disc. How’s that coming?

WH: It’s ready to go, and the bonus disc is amazing. It’s about 80 minutes of unreleased outtakes, mostly from the first album sessions, but a couple of other things as well; all that stuff with the original trio with Alan Woody. Hearing that stuff—going back into the vault, and checking all that stuff out—it’s really cool that we have that stuff to release. I’m really psyched about that.

Any new Mule on the horizon?

WH: As far as getting back in the studio, I’m really excited to do a Mule record with [new bass player] Kevin Scott, which we haven’t done yet. But, I’m not sure what the next studio project is going to be.

When you listen back now to Tales of Ordinary Madness as well as that first Mule album, how have you changed from the guy who wrote and performed those songs over 30 years ago?

WH: Well, it’s kind of hard to pinpoint that. Obviously, my songwriting has gone in a dozen different directions since then. As a singer and as a player, all that has changed. My approach is kind of a gradual, unspoken sort of thing. When I go back and hear myself, I’m surprised how much things have changed, but I’m really proud of those records.

Chuck, at the time, you were also working with Eric Clapton and the Rolling Stones. Looking back, what was working on Madness like for you?

CL: It was just such a great opportunity. I was wanting to get more into production at the time, and Warren was very gracious to agree to have me on board. You know, I wish my producing career could have gone a little stronger after that. But of course, I’m very grateful that I wound up with all the work before and after; everybody from the Stones and Clapton, to George Harrison and others that I’ve had the privilege to work with, but it was just a wonderful opportunity. I was very grateful for it, and very grateful for the effort that everybody put into it.

Warren, back then, were you looking ahead to the future, or just living for the day? I guess I’m asking: 30 years on, have you accomplished all you’ve hoped to achieve?

WH: As far as a list of what I haven’t done yet, one of those things would be an instrumental, jazz-influenced record. I still haven’t done that. I’m not sure what’s going to happen next, but that’s a possibility. Up until we did Heavy Load Blues, a blues record was on that list, but we checked that off. You know, you can never predict how things will go, but I’ve been very happy with the trajectory my career has taken.

Upcoming tour dates and tickets available at warrenhaynes.net and www.mule.net.

Order/stream Tales of Ordinary Madness here.

Further Reading on Warren Haynes, Gov’t Mule, and the Allman Brothers Band:

For No Depression:

Warren Haynes Talks New Solo Album, Gov’t Mule’s 30th, and the Allman Brothers’ Final Show

Gov’t Mule Honors Influences With Their Own Twist

For PopMatters:

Gov’t Mule’s ‘Heavy Load’ Will Lighten Your Burden

For Albumism:

The Allman Brothers Band’s ‘Seven Turns’ Turns 35

Gov’t Mule’s Eponymous Debut Album ‘Gov’t Mule’ Turns 30

For The Mixtape:

The Allman Brothers Band: 30 Years Back to Where It All Begins

A Second Helping of Southern Rock, Part 2 of 2

More Mixtape Conversations:

America celebrated its 200th birthday less than two years after Richard M. Nixon became the first US president to resign from office.1 Just one month after his resignation speech to the nation, his successor, President Gerald R. Ford (who had been nominated to replace Vice President Spiro Agnew after Agnew resigned in October of 1973 stemming from entirely different shenanigans than Nixon’s2), issued “a full, free, and absolute pardon unto Richard Nixon for all offenses against the United States which he, Richard Nixon, has committed or may have committed.”3 1976 was an election year, and Ford ultimately found himself running against a peanut farmer from Plains, Georgia, Jimmy Carter, who also happened to have the power of rock’n’roll on his side.4

Carter ultimately won in a close election in November by securing 297 electoral votes to Ford’s 240. Carter also won 50.1% of the popular vote and carried every state in the South but one. (Only Virginia went for Ford.)

The Bicentennial

Congress began planning the US Bicentennial ten years earlier when it formed the American Revolution Bicentennial Commission on July 4, 1966. Congress, being Congress, however, dissolved the commission in 1973 and instead formed the American Revolution Bicentennial Administration. (I’m not making this up.)5 Everything was re-imaged into red, white, and blue. Even the World Book Encyclopedias my family swore upon issued a Bicentennial edition.6

National pride ran rampant throughout the country with parades and celebrations. For a moment, the Bicentennial served to remind us, especially after Nixon’s resignation in ‘74 and the end of the war in Vietnam the following year, what our country, although imperfect, originally stood for.

TV and Film

On the small screen, Family Feud debuted with horny host—and former Hogan’s Heroes star and Match Game regular—Richard Dawson, who kissed pretty much every woman square-ass on the lips.7

Alice also debuted (a TV adaptation of Martin Scorsese’s 1974 film, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore); while What’s Happening shared the exploits of Rerun, Rog’, Dwayne, Shirley, and the rest of the gang; and Leonard Nimoy hosted one of the spookiest shows on TV that covered everything from ghosts and aliens to ESP and Bigfoot, In Search Of…

For some reason, Bigfoot was everywhere in 1976. From In Search Of and The Six Million Dollar Man8 to Sid and Marty Krofft. He even had his own movie, which, frankly, scared the hell out of me as a kid.

Speaking of the Kroffts, I was a big fan of Wonderbug…

Looking back now, man, that was some silly mess. But not as silly as this.

Also, from Happy Days, one of the first and most successful spinoffs in TV history debuted: Laverne & Shirley.

Although it premiered in the fall of the preceding year, 1976 is when Welcome Back, Kotter really started to hit its stride.

This was mainly due to its breakout star, who played Vinnie Barbarino, and really started to make his mark that year.

And we mustn’t forget, 1976 saw the debut of The Gong Show. Hosted by successful game show producer and CIA assassin9 Chuck Barris, the show featured a rotating panel of judges made up of TV stars of the day10 as they passed judgment on contestants and recurring regulars, like the Unknown Comic and Mean Gene, the Dancing Machine.

Meanwhile, on the big screen, with Watergate still very much in the public consciousness, Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman starred as Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, respectively, in All the President’s Men. It was the glory days of newsrooms, manual typewriters, craggy editors, and Hal Holbrook creeping about in strategically-lit parking decks.

Scorsese, meanwhile, tapped into the male loneliness epidemic almost a half-century before it became a thing with Taxi Driver. Starring Robert De Niro as Travis Bickle and written by Paul Schrader, it’s still considered one of the best films of the decade, if not all time.

On the horror side of things, after the success of The Exorcist, everyone was still enthralled with all things Satan, so we were treated to Damien, the Antichrist, in The Omen, which—at the time, anyway—was considered a fictional tale.11

Then there were the musical tragedies. Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson steamed up the big screen in a remake of A Star Is Born, a film that, by law, seems to get remade every couple of generations.

The movies in 1976 weren’t all dark and dramatic, however. It was also the year of Car Wash, The Bad News Bears, and, of course, the ultimate underdog tale, Rocky.

The Music

Musically, on the rock side, 1976 was the year of the live album, from Frampton Comes Alive!, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s One More From the Road, and Bob Seger’s Live Bullet, to the concert film and soundtrack of Led Zeppelin’s The Song Remains the Same. It was also the year punk broke, at least in the United States, with the earth-shattering debut album from The Ramones. Although singles such as The Damned's “New Rose” and the Sex Pistols’ “Anarchy in the UK” were released in the UK in ‘76, it’d be another year before their respective debut albums—along with the self-titled first by The Clash—would hit stores.

The two Johnnys—Ramone and Rotten—clashed with superstar acts such as the Eagles,12 who released what eventually became the best-selling album of all time, Their Greatest Hits: 1971-1975.1314 They followed it by adding Joe Walsh and releasing Hotel California by December. Mainstream rock still dominated as everyone from Led Zeppelin and Steely Dan to new artists such as Boston crowded the airwaves with huge, slick, flawless productions.

Punk wasn’t the only subversive style slowly gaining a foothold in the public consciousness and pushing against the status quo. Disco had worked its way up from the gay clubs and discotheques of Manhattan onto the national stage. Established artists began to incorporate those elements into their music. Hi-hats were opening and closing on the upbeat all over the radio. Bass lines were walking. Shirts were unbuttoned further, brazenly displaying coke spoon necklaces. Lapels were getting wider and more aggressive. It was apparent that, as The Meters put it, “Disco is the Thing Today,” when, in September, former WKIX DJ in Raleigh, NC (but at the time working for Memphis’s “The Great 68" WMPS-AM), Rick Dees released—and soon hit number one—with “Disco Duck.”15

Meanwhile, in the world of country music, Willie, Waylon, and the boys (and girls) began making waves with their brand of country—the kind that got branded Outlaw—and became mainstream. In 1976 alone, in addition to the massive success of Wanted: The Outlaws (see below), both Willie Nelson (with The Sound in Your Mind and The Troublemaker) and Waylon Jennings (Are You Ready for the Country and Waylon Live) put out two albums each.

The Best of 1976

What follows are 25 albums plus 25 honorable mentions I either grew up with or discovered at various points over the last 50 years, followed by a Mixtape of 76 songs that pull from this list and 26 more albums and/or singles at least worth mentioning. If you don’t see a favorite, feel free to let me know in the comments.

Aerosmith - Rocks

Aerosmith’s best album kicked off with a squalling statement-of-purpose western-themed rocker and picked up steam from there. Through the “punk in the street” ethos of “Last Child,” through the ominous heavy blues of “Combination” and “Nobody’s Fault,” to the classic swagger of “Get the Lead Out” and “Sick As A Dog,” Rocks found Boston’s bad boys at their undisputed baddest.

Bob Marley & the Wailers - Rastaman Vibration

While the casual fan (i.e., the one who gets their fix from Legend) may not be as familiar with Rastaman Vibration, it was a solid follow-up from the previous year’s Live. Powerful statements such as “War” shared space with the laid-back joy of “Roots Rock Reggae.” Marley and the Wailers delivered a perfect midway point between two studio classics—1974’s Natty Dread and ‘77’s Exodus. Marley would end 1976 by being shot by would-be assassins in a home invasion on the eve of performing a free concert, forcing him and the Wailers to leave Jamaica for London.

Bob Dylan - Desire

No other album in Bob Dylan’s discography sounds like Desire. That’s partly due to the be-caped Scarlet Rivera, whose violin dances around Dylan’s harp throughout. It’s also because of the overall spillover from his sprawling Rolling Thunder ensemble, backing vocals from Emmylou Harris, and his collaborations with Jaques Levy, who co-wrote most of the songs here. In fact, the only two sole compositions from Dylan are two of the most powerful: the ominous, minor key masterpiece “One More Cup of Coffee” and the shockingly personal “Sara.” Following up such an all-timer as Blood on the Tracks would be no easy feat for most, but Dylan proved once again that he truly exists in the moment, and we’re all the better for it.

Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life

One of the most ambitious and powerful statements of the decade—and beyond—Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life remains both exciting and breathtakingly beautiful 50 years on. The sprawling set opens in deceptively subtle fashion with “Love’s In Need of Love Today,” “Have a Talk With God,” and “Village Ghetto Land” before “Contusion” places the prog-fusion-funk at the forefront. From there, it only gets more adventurous and eclectic. Pop, R&B, and jazz provide the foundation for Wonder’s explorations, influencing almost everything that came after.

Ian Hunter - All American Alien Boy

For Hunter’s follow-up to his self-titled debut, he recruited drummer Aynsley Dunbar, keyboardist Chris Stainton, and bassist Jaco Pastorius for an album that doesn’t rock quite as hard as his previous one, nor as hard as what followed with Mick Ronson, but it’s no less fine a listen. The swagger is there with “Restless Youth,” while “You Nearly Did Me In” is all New York City-tinged sax (wielded by David Sanborn) and swaying piano with Queen on backing vocals. It may not be one of Hunter’s most critically acclaimed efforts, but All American Alien Boy is consistently gripping throughout, and one of the best rock albums of a strong year.

Joni Mitchell - Hejira

For sure, there’s comfort in the familiar—when artists give their fans what they expect and want. The albums that push boundaries, transcending their time and place, however, are often the ones that remain the most rewarding, even half a century later. Not many fit this description quite like Hejira, where Joni Mitchell—already an adventurous singer/songwriter/guitarist at this point in her career—for the most part jettisoned song structure and melody in favor of explorations in rhythms and groove. Larry Carlton, Jaco Pastorius, John Guerin, Bobbye Hall, and a host of others are along for the ride, helping Mitchell begin the most exciting phase of her career.

Tom Waits - Small Change

Tom Waits’s fourth album continued his Charles Bukowski-meets-Louis Armstrong jazz-piano-bar-guy persona with another set of classics and near-classics. Sweeping, orchestrated ballads bump up against late-night, black-and-white, lonely blues and offbeat scat-filled observations. One of his most consistent, enjoyable platters of the ‘70s, before he headed to the junkyard for the tools to reinvent himself for the ‘80s.

Boz Scaggs - Silk Degrees

For many, Silk Degrees represents the sound of the latter part of the 1970s. Slick, flawless production; precise, in-the-pocket musicianship (from players that would soon become Toto); and the smooth vocalizing of a guy that started as a Texas blues-rock guitar slinger in Steve Miller’s band. 50 years on, Boz Scaggs’s masterpiece helped kick off a soft rock subgenre retrofitted as “yacht rock” and seemingly everyone—young and old, black, white, and otherwise—knows how to get “Lowdown” with the “Lido Shuffle.”

Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band - Live Bullet

Live Bullet made a bona fide rock star out of a struggling Midwestern singer-songwriter who loved rock’n’roll, soul, R&B, and folk. This is the album that offered Bob Seger the opportunity to show off not only his hard rock chops but also his sensitive side - with ballads that cut much deeper than just a chance to catch your breath between the fist pumps and air guitar. While he could approach James Brown-level funky with “Heavy Music,” Seger could be just as powerful while crafting the perfect marriage of road song and introspective ballad with the inspired pairing of “Travelin’ Man” and “Beautiful Loser,” as well as the mighty “Turn the Page,” each surpassing their studio counterparts. Live Bullet stands as one of the most listenable, entertaining, heart-tugging, chest-pumping live rock’n’roll albums ever recorded.

The Modern Lovers - The Modern Lovers

The Modern Lovers provides the bridge between mid-’60s garage rock and mid-’70s punk. All the elements that make rock’n’roll so enticing are evident here. An innocent, naive outlook one moment gives way to a dark, rebellious sneer in another. Mastermind Jonathan Richman would retool and somewhat soften his Modern Lovers on subsequent releases (as he would go on to an eclectic solo career), but their debut (originally recorded in 1973 under the guidance of John Cale) remains an undisputed classic of its time.

Marvin Gaye - I Want You

Marvin Gaye’s first album of new material since Let’s Get It On three years earlier, fits perfectly into the sonics of the mid-1970s, thanks in no small part to Leon Ware, whose ideas were co-opted by Gaye and Berry Gordy for what became I Want You. (Ware, in turn, placed his own name on Musical Massage that same year, another classic of the era, and it’s reported Gaye and Gordy wanted those songs, too.) Much of what’s here hints at Gaye’s troubled personal life, including his marriage to Gordy’s sister Anna, the subject of the less ambiguous Here, My Dear, two years later. The sound of I Want You is early quiet storm—smooth and highly erotic—and packed with themes that Gaye knew how to handle with ease.

Graham Parker - Howlin’ Wind

Although Heat Treatment may be the critics’ favorite of Graham Parker’s first two albums in 1976, it’s Howlin’ Wind that laid the groundwork and gets the edge from this writer. Sounding like a messy mix of Dion, Springsteen, Van Morrison, and proto-punk rocker, Parker swaggers and struts throughout Howlin’ Wind, celebrating rock’n’roll—with a nod toward soul—in all its dirty glory.

Led Zeppelin - Presence

Bookended by a pair of epics that are sonic opposites yet equally powerful, Presence is Led Zeppelin at its most chaotic. Recovering from an auto accident, Plant recorded most of the tracks confined to a wheelchair. That restlessness can be heard in the wanderlust of the majestic “Achilles Last Stand,” containing ten-plus minutes of Page’s riffs and solos building upon each other, Plant’s probing wails, Bonzo’s “Bolero”-type fills, and Jones’s galloping bass. From there, “For Your Life” offers nothing but riff and menace with the push-and-pull of the blues, while Blind Willie Johnson’s “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” is given the epic, ominous Zep treatment. They attempt funk again with “Royal Orleans” and (more successfully with) “Hots On for Nowhere.” After paying tribute to early rock’n’roll on “Candy Store Rock,” “Tea for One” acts as one long exhale after the storm.

Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Jessi Colter, Tompall Glaser - Wanted! The Outlaws

Despite—or maybe due to—consisting of mostly previously recorded material, Wanted! The Outlaws became country music’s first platinum seller, and, in doing so, proved the music of Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Jessi Colter, Tompall Glaser, and a handful of like-minded artists was commercially viable. In other words, it marked the beginning of the end for the Outlaw movement. As an album, what’s here is unimpeachable, and it’s obvious how it became a pivotal moment in country music.

Flamin’ Groovies - Shake Some Action

One of the greatest power pop anthems of all time stands as this album’s title cut and lead-off track. Although nothing that follows bests “Shake Some Action,” the rest of the album—as well as its title track—proved that the Flamin’ Groovies were more than just blues-obsessed rockers. Although there were a handful of moments that sonically reached back to the pre-Beatles era, Shake Some Action masterfully blended early rock 'n' roll with the melodic universe Lennon and McCartney helped create.

Boston - Boston

The basis for AOR and classic rock radio for the last 50 years, Boston’s self-titled debut may contain the most overplayed songs ever, but there’s a reason for that. Mastermind Tom Scholz crafted Boston to sound huge, and it does. This is arena rock in all its excess, for better and worse. Brad Delp’s vocals soar over Scholz’s multiple layers of guitars throughout, but it’s more than just the sound; the songs are there, too. Step away from this beast for a while and return to it fresh, and tracks like “More than a Feeling” and “Long Time” still excite, while the overdubbed dual guitars in the coda to “Hitch a Ride” will make your jaded cynicism crumble under the weight of their pure rock’n’roll power.

Ramones - Ramones

The hint of feedback, anxious countoff, opening guitars, and “HEY HO LET’S GO” chant that launch Ramones is still one of the most exciting moments in all of rock’n’roll. It stood as a statement of purpose like no other in the year when punk was tearing the ivory tower of rock back down to its studs. It thrashes, it defies, it punches up. It’s not all punk power, however; “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend” displayed a strong pop sensibility underneath all that leather and riffage. Fifty years on, and despite the success of all the Green Days of the world, Ramones is still a shock to the system.

Willie Nelson - The Sound in Your Mind

Although not as cohesive an affair as its predecessor, Red Headed Stranger, The Sound in Your Mind allowed Willie Nelson and his band, The Family, the opportunity to stretch out in parts while showcasing Nelson’s strengths as a songwriter and an interpreter. Tracks like “That Lucky Old Sun” pointed the way to his dive into the Great American Songbook on his landmark Stardust two years later, while his take on Lefty Frizzell’s “If You’ve Got the Money, I’ve Got the Time” celebrated Nelson’s honky-tonk roots. Meanwhile, originals such as “Healing Hands of Time” and the title track are presented here in their definitive versions. Even a well-worn standard such as “Amazing Grace” fits perfectly alongside the epic closing medley of three Nelson classics. As fantastic as those moments are, however, his haunting take on Steve Fromholz’s “I’d Have to Be Crazy” is the album's best moment and stands as one of the great country covers of all time.

The Wild Tchoupitoulas - The Wild Tchoupitoulas

The album that unwittingly sparked the formation of the Neville Brothers, the sole album from The Wild Tchoupitoulas—a collective of Mardi Gras Indians fronted by George “Big Chief Jolly” Landry—was one of the most joyful releases of the year. Landry recruited his nephews, the Nevilles, along with the rest of the Meters, and together they crafted a song cycle that reflected the New Orleans sound in all its rich heritage and glory. Call-and-response vocals and chants mix with funk and soul. It’s the sound of a world where every day is Fat Tuesday.

Warren Zevon - Warren Zevon

The mid-to-late 1970s saw LA’s mellow mafia at its peak. Artists—most of them on David Geffen’s Asylum label—from Jackson Browne and Linda Ronstadt to the Eagles dominated the charts and the airwaves. None were as subversive lyrically while playing the soft rock game as Warren Zevon. His self-titled sophomore release laid the groundwork for the rest of his career, and included such all-timers as “Poor Poor Pitiful Me,” “Hasten Down the Wind” (both covered memorably by Ronstadt), “Mohammed’s Radio,” and the classic, devastating “Carmelita” (even faithfully covered by GG Allin). Warren Zevon is a standout from an artist who walked his own path up until his untimely end.

Thin Lizzy - Jailbreak

Southern Rock wasn’t the only place to hear twin guitars in ‘76. Thin Lizzy’s Jailbreak placed Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson out front, weaving double lead lines in and around Phil Lynott’s increasingly dense lyrics about cowboys, star-crossed lovers, rose-colored nostalgia, and taking on the world. Jailbreak became Thin Lizzy’s defining moment for good reason, giving FM rock radio plenty of material for years to come while influencing a generation of rockers over the next 25 years.

Jaco Pastorius - Jaco Pastorius

In 1976, it seemed Jaco Pastorius was everywhere: playing on Pat Metheny’s debut, Bright Size Life, joining Weather Report for Black Market, guesting on Ian Hunter’s All American Alien Boy, and on Joni Mitchell’s Hejira. In the midst of all this work, Pastorius found time to record this landmark jazz/fusion debut. His elastic, fretless bass ties these tracks together, making it a cohesive, yet adventurous, classic.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

With punk basically making its debut in 1976, record stores and radio didn’t really know what to do with a good ol’ rock’n’roll band. By this point, the suits wanted to place a hyphen in front of all things “rock.” Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers didn’t give a damn. They were down for “Anything That’s Rock’n’Roll.” They would make better albums for sure, but here’s where the template was laid, and they were already giving us all-timers in “Breakdown” and “American Girl.” A debut that still rocks as hard now as it did 50 years ago.

AC/DC - Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

Although those of us in the US didn’t get to hear it until 1981, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap was unleashed upon the rest of the world in 1976 (the same year we were introduced to High Voltage stateside). Timeline of access aside, AC/DC’s actual third album is filled with a mix of humor and menace that only these guys could deliver with Bon Scott at the helm. This is also where their allegiance to Chuck Berry-inspired rock’n’roll is most evident, as the side two one-two punch of ‘There’s Gonna Be Some Rockin’” and “Ain’t No Fun (Waitin’ ‘Round to Be a Millionaire)” takes the rhunka-rhunka boogie to glorious extremes. The title track is the undeniable classic, but don’t skip the majestic blues of “Ride On,” the closest these bad boys ever got to sentimentality.

Doug Sahm & The Texas Tornados - Texas Rock for Country Rollers

Not to be confused with Doug Sahm’s ‘90s-fronted Lone Star supergroup, the Texas Tornados, the lineup listed on Texas Rock for Country Rollers—aside from Augie Meyers—were an entirely different group. With the Crazy Cajun Huey P. Meaux behind the board, Sahm crafted an all-time progressive country/rock’n’roll/Tex-Mex classic. From the Dylanesque “Give Back The Key To My Heart” and dusty swagger of “Float Away” (which sounds like Aerosmith equipped with a pig cooker and a phase shifter) to the hard country of “Cowboy Peyton Place” and the blues-soaked anthem, “You Can't Hide A Redneck (Under That Hippy Hair),” this is pure Texas music at its damn finest.

Honorable Mentions:

David Bowie - Station to Station

Rush - 2112

Peter Frampton - Frampton Comes Alive!

Bootsy Collins - Stretchin’ Out in Bootsy’s Rubber Band

Guy Clark - Texas Cookin’

Eagles - Hotel California

Steely Dan - The Royal Scam

Jeff Beck - Wired

Bad Company - Run With the Pack

Ry Cooder - Chicken Skin Music

ABBA - Arrival

Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band - Night Moves

Steve Miller Band - Fly Like an Eagle

Peter Tosh - Legalize It

JJ Cale - Troubadour

Dr Feelgood - Stupidity

Frank Zappa - Zoot Allures

Joan Armatrading - Joan Armatrading

The Stills/Young Band - Long May You Run

Waylon Jennings - Are You Ready for the Country

Lynyrd Skynyrd - One More From the Road

Genesis - A Trick of the Tail

KISS - Destroyer

Brand X - Unorthodox Behaviour

Rolling Stones - Black and Blue

The Big 76 from ‘76 Mixtape:

Now, for all of the above plus 26 more, here’s a Mixtape of The Big 76 from ‘76.

When I started building this Mixtape, I ended up with double the songs it now holds. I had to engage in some serious and painful darling killing, but hopefully what’s left successfully illustrates that 1976 was one eclectic and powerful year.

You’ll see/hear some tunes from albums that almost made the list, as well as a handful of well-worn pop favorites, but within reason. You’ll find no “Afternoon Delight” or “Muskrat Love.” For goodness sake, I’m not a monster.

As always, the following Mixtape was carefully sequenced to maximize enjoyment, but if you’d rather just hit “shuffle,” feel free. (Although I will be over here silently judging you.)

If you see any of your favorites missing, please let me know in the comments. No matter how much time I put into these things, I always miss something obvious. It’s maddening.

Happy streaming!

Apple users can click here.

Further Reading:

Welcome to a new occasional feature of The Mixtape called “Uncovered,” wherein I investigate the similarities of album covers across genres and decades. We’ll start with the guaranteed never-to-fail and seductive “elbow lean.”

Leaning on one’s elbow became a time-honored tradition in the world of album (and some 7” single) covers from the 1960s through its golden age, the 1980s.

No genre was spared, as the pose spread from pop and country to R&B and rock.

Yellow shirts were certainly a stylistic choice.

Either elbow could be utilized.

Adding props enhanced the experience…

…and poppin’ that collar never hurts.

Some gave us the one-elbow-up, one-elbow-down maneuver complete with a full-lean pose…

…while others didn’t even bother to remove their hat…

…or boots.

The tummy hold here is particularly inspired:

There was also the occasional forward double-elbow lean…

And finally, for those who didn’t want to go full elbow, we mustn’t forget the palm-lean subset of this album cover phenomenon. Mainly used by artists formerly in popular bands (below, Spirit and Humble Pie, respectively) but found a whole new audience with their solo work…

The palm-lean was also occasionally put into action by ‘70s and ‘80s country artists, such as Dottie West and Charly McClain.

McClain thought the palm-lean was so nice, she used it twice…

…and paired it with an elbow lean on the back cover. Game, set, match.

Until next time, here’s to leaning into your dreams and goals. If anything tries to block you, elbow it out of the way.

It turns out that my Christmas Mixtape was my 100th newsletter. I thought about ending my 2025 Substack experience there (until the death of Chris Rea on December 22nd). But then, what about the obligatory “best of” wrap-up?

Most of 2025 was spent working on my next book (more on that soon), and as a result, I didn’t hear much new stuff. However, I did go through a moment of trying to understand the critical hype around the apparent new “it” group, Geese (and the fact that there’s now a Goose and a Geese I must contend with). So far, let’s just say I haven’t quite acquired the taste.

Otherwise, what follows is what I loved from what I did hear this year. It includes the 15 albums I liked best, followed by a list of musicians and music industry folks we lost in the last 12 months, and, finally, a Mixtape of the 25 songs that moved me the most in 2025.

The Best Albums I Heard This Year:

James McMurtry - The Black Dog and the Wandering Boy

I admit that in my world, James McMurtry can do no wrong, but with his new album, The Black Dog and the Wandering Boy, he’s delivered one of his all-time best. (And it’s my pick for best of the year.) “Pinocchio in Vegas” is a standout, but, to be fair, they all are, including the nods to John Dee Graham and Kris Kristofferson, whose songs he chooses to open and close the set, respectively. Then there’s “Slipping Away.” A musician-on-the-road song that easily takes its place alongside “Turn the Page” and “The Load Out” as a classic of its kind. It may even, dare I say, best them, as it trades romanticized melodrama for wisdom, reality, experience, and doubt. The real showstopper, however, is the on-point “Sons of the Second Sons,” timely and, sadly, timeless.

Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory

Turns out this is just what Sharon Van Etten needed - a damn band. My runner-up for album of the year (the rest aren’t ranked, but I thought I’d point out my top two), the self-titled Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory offers the best of retro ‘80s goth/new wave/no wave/whatever through a modern lens. The album’s cold, sonic darkness is juxtaposed by Van Etten’s warm, passionate delivery throughout.

Amanda Shires - Nobody’s Girl

The dissolution of Americana’s power couple made headlines and got tongues wagging all over. Jason Isbell’s Foxes in the Snow told his side of the story, then came Amanda Shire’s side. “A Way It Goes,” the first single from Nobody’s Girl, didn’t dance around the elephant in the room: “I can show you how he left me,” she begins over atmospheric synths, “But I’d rather you see me thriving.” Living well is the best revenge, it seems.

Jason Isbell - Foxes in the Snow

Isbell’s 2025 all-acoustic affair was loaded with heart-wrenching and heart-tugging ballads that detail both the painfully inevitable end of a relationship and the exciting possibilities of a next chapter. While Isbell’s Prine-esque delivery on the deceptively simple “Don’t Be Tough” is universal in scope, it also conjures the best laid-back moments of ‘70s era Guy Clark and even ol’ Waylon. It also offers a respite from the soap operatic navel-gazing occurring on most of the other tracks.

Wet Leg - Moisturizer

Hester Chambers and Rhian Teasdale brought their touring band into the studio for a full five-piece band experience while telling the sophomore slump to “catch these fists.” Wet Leg’s moisturizer was one of the summer’s—and then year’s—best. “mangetout,” “pokemon,” “don’t speak” and the rest shimmer, shake, and excite—including the irresistible lead-off track…

Various Artists - A Tribute to the King of Zydeco

The Rolling Stones’ fantastic cover of “Zydeco Sont Pas Sales” that kicks off this tribute got most of the press, but the rest of the album is a fun-filled trip down to the Louisiana bayou with an all-star assembly of Americana, blues, soul, and country artists paying tribute to the music of Clifton Chenier. The entire project is flawlessly sequenced and flows like a humid night deep down in bayou country at a small, sweaty nightspot.

Neko Case - Neon Grey-Midnight Green

Hearing Neko Case’s Neon Grey Midnight Green is like feeling the clouds part while a gigantic bolt of sunshine hits you square in the feels. Its first single, “Wreck,” set the stage. Sweeping production—including horns, strings, and an angelic chorus of backing vocals—glides us through sonic sweetness as the lyrics talk of the power of love burning bright and strong, enjoying and embracing it before it fades.

Charlie Crockett - Dollar a Day

Looking at this output over the last few years, one might think Charlie Crockett was sacrificing quality for quantity, but listening to the Shooter Jennings-produced Dollar a Day, it’s apparent that that’s not the case. Crockett just keeps getting better, and it makes me excited to hear what’s coming next.

Lilly Allen - West End Girl

The year of bad relationships hitting the newsstands didn’t just belong to Isbell/Shires. Lilly Allen kindly asked those two to hold her separation papers while she made headlines of her own with an album-length takedown not heard since the likes of Marvin Gaye’s Here, My Dear. It’s comeuppance you can dance to. Stranger things have happened.

Little Feat - Strike Up the Band

Fresh on the heels of their Grammy-nominated Sam’s Place, Little Feat returned in 2025 with Strike Up the Band, their first album of all original material in many a moon. The first single was a Fred Tackett/Scott Sherrard co-write that could have fit right in on The Last Record Album; jazzy, bluesy, and swampy in all the right ways. Their recent announcement that 2026 marks their final tour makes listening to their latest rather bittersweet, but at least they’re going out on their own terms this time.

Lilly Hiatt - Forever

From my review for PopMatters:

Forever exhibits a perfect marriage of 1960s and 1990s musical aesthetics while keeping a keen ear on the now. Lyrically, Lilly Hiatt celebrates the joy of love, even if at times she’s frightened by her vulnerability. Forever celebrates the experiences couples have, the memories they create, and the struggles they overcome together. “Get lost with me,” Hiatt sings in “Somewhere”. It’s a pair in love, just trying to hide away, trying to live their life on their terms as the world falls apart around them.

Tyler Childers - Snipe Hunter

Most of us rural Southerners have either been invited snipe hunting, have taken others, or both—so the title of the new Tyler Childers album elicited a knowing smile. Rick Rubin slipped into the producer’s chair and helped create the Kentuckian’s most ambitious platter to date. Challenging, confrontational, brash, audacious, and just plain badass, Snipe Hunter has set the bar high for the rest of Tyler’s career, but I believe he’s up to the challenge.

Van Morrison - Remembering Now

Remembering Now is Van the Man’s best album in almost twenty years (in fact, since 2008’s Keep It Simple). While it’s not perfect (“Back to Writing Love Songs” would’ve sufficed as a liner note or a press release heading instead of an entire song), its best moments recapture the magic of his Down the Road and Back On Top era, while others reach back to 1991’s Hymns to the Silence and even further to his ‘80s extended spiritual excursions. Most encouraging: the perpetually grumpy-ass Van the Man finally stops bitching about the music industry and the state of the world long enough to celebrate the joys of love again.

Mike Farris - The Sound of Muscle Shoals

Former Screamin’ Cheetah Wheelies frontman Mike Farris’s fantastic The Sound of Muscle Shoals is filled with the spirit of the town that bears its name and where it was recorded (a newly refurbished FAME). There are so many great songs here (like his take on one of my favorite oft-overlooked Tom Petty tunes) that it’s difficult to pick one to represent it, but I’m going with the sexy groove of “Bird in the Rain.”

Mavis Staples - Sad and Beautiful World

Of course, a new Mavis Staples album is always cause for a celebration. The November release of Sad and Beautiful World was no exception. With Brad Cook at the helm, Sad and Beautiful World features appearances from North Carolina resident (and Brad’s brother) Phil Cook, and the hip roots-rockers of the moment, MJ Lenderman and Katie Crutchfield. Also on board are Nathaniel Rateliff, as well as Buddy Guy, Bonnie Raitt, Derek Trucks, and longtime associates Jeff and Spencer Tweedy. Songs range from the new Allison Russell/Hozier-penned “Human Mind” to the classic “Satisfied Mind.” It’s a worthy addition to a peerless catalog.

The Best Reissues I Heard

I was exposed to many fantastic reissues/catalog items this year; I just didn’t make the time to write about them. Oops. Anyway, here is the best of what I heard:

Bob Dylan – Through The Open Window (The Bootleg Series Vol. 18 1956-1963)

Bill Evans Trio - Haunted Heart: The Legendary Riverside Studio Recordings

Joni Mitchell - Joni’s Jazz

Pink Floyd - Pink Floyd at Pompeii - MCMLXXII

Bruce Springsteen - Tracks II: The Lost Albums / Nebraska ‘82: Expanded Edition

Various Artists - Soul 66: From the Vaults of Atlantic, Atco, Calla, Loma, Reprise, Roulette, Stax, Volt and Warner Bros

Various Artists - Young and Wild: A Decade of American Glam Metal 1982-1992

Frank Zappa - Cheaper Than Cheep

Of course, there’s plenty of fantastic music out there that I didn’t get to hear or absorb this year, and I’ll probably spend much of 2026 playing catch-up. If anything grabbed you and didn’t let go, let me know in the comments. Either way, here’s to a prosperous, peaceful, and happy new year for all of us.

Those We Lost in 2025

Before we get to the Best of 2025 Mixtape, here’s a list of those we lost in the music world. It’s not comprehensive by any means, but it should go without saying that it was a tough year, and these artists and industry pros will be sorely missed, but their legacies are secure. If there’s anyone I missed you feel should be included, don’t hesitate to let me know (politely, please) in the comments.

Annye C. Anderson

James Baker

Roy Thomas Baker

David Briggs

Don Bryant

Clem Burke

Jerry Butler:

Carl Carlton

Jimmy Cliff

Steve Cropper:

Sonny Curtis

D’Angelo

Rick Davies

Jack DeJohnette

Chris Dreja

Joe Ely:

Marianne Faithfull

Roberta Flack

Al Foster

Connie Francis

Ace Frehley

Mac Gayden:

Donna Jean Godchaux

Jeff Hannusch

Garth Hudson

Bill Ivey

Anthony Jackson

Flaco Jimenez

David Johansen

Tom Lehrer

John Lodge

Michael Lydon

Raul Malo:

Chuck Mangione

Terry Manning

Tommy McLain

Melba Montgomery

Sam Moore:

Don Nix

Michael Ochs

Ozzy Osbourne

Mike Peters

Mick Ralphs

Chris Rea:

Terry Reid

David Roach

Johnny Rodriguez

Troy Seals

Jeannie Seely

Tom Shipley

Todd Snider:

Jill Sobule

Angie Stone

Sly Stone:

Phil Upchurch

Mark Volman

Joe Louis Walker

Bobby Whitlock

Brian Wilson:

Brenton Wood

Jesse Colin Young

The Best of 2025 Mixtape

‘Til next time, here’s the final Mixtape of the year, which includes 25 of the best songs I heard in 2025…

Apple Music users can find this Mixtape here.

I was hoping we could make it out of 2025 without losing another musician who profoundly impacted many of us, but unfortunately, here we are.

It was probably around 1988 and on WZZU-FM, 94-Z in Raleigh, NC, where I was first exposed to “Workin’ On It” by Chris Rea. To this day, I believe it was the only time I’ve heard him on the air other than his 1978 hit, “Fool (If You Think It’s Over)” or his seasonal classic, “Driving Home for Christmas” (that made it onto this year’s Christmas Mixtape). I found a cassette of New Light Through Old Windows soon after. I didn’t realize until later that it was a compilation. It played like a cohesive album, and it made me a lifelong fan.

At first glance, Chris Rea could be hard to pin down. “Fool (If You Think It’s Over)” is straight-up Adult Contemporary verging on the retro-fitted tag of Yacht Rock, while “Workin’ On It” fits squarely into the blues-rock world. But Rea was much more. He embodied a calm, cool demeanor both on record and in concert. While his slide playing was tasteful—but could also bite and sting when needed in the true Lowell George tradition—his voice was his true gift. While he didn’t have the pipes of, say, Paul Rodgers, Steve Marriott, Rod Stewart, or Frankie Miller, his expressive phrasing was immaculate, and his vocal tone was deep and comforting, even when it was delivering lyrics of unimaginable sadness. (Rodgers covered Rea’s “Stone” on the only album by The Law, Rodgers’s collab with Faces/Who drummer Kenney Jones in 1991. Rea contributed guitar on the track.)

Rea was the artist who most opened my mind to how the blues could successfully be incorporated into a pop framework. Although artists such as Boz Scaggs and Eric Clapton had moved back and forth between pop, rock, and blues over the years, it was usually at the expense of one or two of those styles over the other. Rea could craft a tune with a pop sensibility while still injecting it with a blues feel. No matter the backdrop—even the goofiest period-precise electronic drums were no match—his guitar and vocals kept the proceedings relatively swampy. Nowhere was this more apparent than on the title cut to 1989’s The Road to Hell.

A kinda-sorta concept album, The Road to Hell is probably the best place to get on board with Rea. It’s where that warm, soothing voice guides you through a world that’s turned into a cynical hellscape of crime and consumerism, but he offers hope despite it. The album romanticizes America through the eyes and ears of an Englishman. (Rea hails from a port town in the Borough of Middlesbrough in North Yorkshire.) His character believes the “big long roads” in “Texas” offer solace from the “evil” he sees on his TV, so he and his family jump in the car and go “Looking for a Rainbow.” All the while, he can feel safe in his lover’s “Warm and Tender Love” while fantasizing about the joy found in “Daytona.” (Rea was a serious motorhead).

Auberge, The Road to Hell’s follow-up in 1991, although not as thematically consistent as its predecessor, sonically offered more of the same.

Rea, during this era, occupied a similar sonic space as Mark Knopfler and even what Tony Joe White was releasing at the time. While working on my Swamp Rock book, I planned to include him in the chapter that details the swamp sound that couldn’t completely be hidden under the slick production of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s (unfortunately, I just couldn’t find the space). When you listen to songs like Rea’s “Curse of the Traveler” alongside, say, Tony Joe White’s “Cold Fingers,” they both have the same moody, nocturnal, elusive, journeyman vibe.

Frustratingly, Rea never really broke through in the States aside from “Fool” and “Driving Home for Christmas,” but his albums were consistently strong. His breezy, laid-back productions fit well thematically into the summer season. So much so that by 2000, he released a comp called King of the Beach.

That same year, Rea was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, ultimately losing his pancreas, duodenum1, and gall bladder. In 2001, he underwent what’s called a “Whipple” procedure. Also called a pancreaticoduodenectomy, the Mayo Clinic describes it as, “An operation to treat tumors and other conditions in the pancreas, small intestine and bile ducts. It involves removing the head of the pancreas, the first part of the small intestine, the gallbladder, and the bile duct.”2

Rea told the local press in North England in 2008, “It’s a twelve-and-a-half-hour operation, and it takes you a year after to see if you will even recover from it. The two guys who went in with me to have it didn’t get through.”

While in recovery, he gained a new perspective. “It’s not until you become seriously ill and you nearly die and you’re at home for six months that you suddenly stop and realise that this isn’t the way I intended it to be in the beginning,” he explained. “Everything that you’ve done falls away, and you start wondering why you went through all that rock business stuff. Now I don’t look any further forward than today; I really do live day to day. What my health problems have given me is constant optimism. If it rains, I say great rain is nice.”3

After receiving a copy of Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue and listening to the music of artists like Sister Rosetta Tharpe during his recovery, he had an epiphany. He wanted to make music that reflected the pain he felt during his illness, while emphasizing the resilience of making it through. He dove even deeper into the blues, shedding the slick productions of the past in favor of pure, raw emotion.

The result was Dancing Down the Stony Road, a double album that, for me, stands as his masterpiece. While it was resequenced and condensed to a single disc in the US (called just Stony Road), the full original UK version is the one to seek out. It’s one of the great personal statements released this century so far, as it details his journey of recovery as well as the beginning of his exploration of the blues—a sonic pilgrimage to the Delta taken by many before him, from Jagger and Richards to John Fogerty—but done through the eyes of someone who's realized the fragility and beauty of life.

Rea’s 2005 effort was even more ambitious. Inspired by his deep dive into the Delta, he released Blue Guitars, an 11-disc, 130-song album of all-new original material that touched on every style of blues he could imagine.

Rea continued releasing new music into the 2010s (including Road Songs for Lovers in 2017). And “Driving Home for Christmas,” I’m sure, gave him a decent check he could count on at least once a year.

He died on December 22, 2025, and his family released this statement:

It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved Chris, who died peacefully earlier today following a short illness.

Chris’s music has created the soundtrack to many lives, and his legacy will live on through the songs he leaves behind.

Chris Rea was not a one-(or two) hit wonder. He was someone who was always searching, always playing, always digging deep into what inspired him. He was perpetually curious, and diving into his discography is an endlessly rewarding experience. Here’s just a sample of some of my favorites, but I encourage you to find your own—something that can get you dancing down the road, no matter how many stones there may be in your passway.

Apple Music listeners can access this Mixtape here.

I also make it a point to never miss my favorite version of Charles Dickens’ classic, Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol.

This year marks the 60th anniversary showing of A Charlie Brown Christmas, and probably about the 50th time I tear up at the last couple of minutes.

And who can live without the various Rankin/Bass claymation classics? Personally, I’ve always been a bigger fan of Santa Claus is Coming to Town than Rudolph—Burgermeister Meisterburger is a character for the ages—but you really can’t go wrong with either.

As for this year’s Christmas Mixtape, it has now been expanded and (somewhat) resequenced for 2025, with the addition of 20 more tracks. It represents most of my favorites, but it’s by no means comprehensive. You can listen in the sequence provided (as I always prefer), or feel free to shuffle. Either way, if you have any favorite holiday tunes—whether well-known or obscure—please let me know in the comments.

Happy Holidays from The Mixtape!

Apple Music users can access the Christmas Mixtape here.

Joe Ely lived a life that would sound apocryphal if it weren’t all true. He hopped trains and hitchhiked. He ran away and joined the circus for a spell. He was one-third of a legendary Texas trio, The Flatlanders (along with Butch Hancock and Jimmie Dale Gilmore), that was more a mirage than an actual group. He caught the attention of Bruce Springsteen, a kindred spirit who once quipped, “Thank God he wasn’t born in New Jersey! I would have had a lot more of my work cut out for me.” Ely also impressed The Clash to the point where they recruited him to open for them on tours across the UK and US (from which Ely’s incendiary album, Live Shots, was pulled).

Many obits, articles, and essays are describing that time period with the Clash around the web today, and deservedly so. Some point out how “unusual” the pairing between the Clash and Ely was. Yet it wasn’t. For anyone who knew Ely’s music and his approach to it, sharing space with “The Only Band That Matters” made perfect sense. (Ely is shouting the backing Spanish translation of the third verse of “Should I Stay or Should I Go” along with Strummer.) Strummer and Ely stayed friends for the rest of Strummer’s life because they were both artists who lived for the song and for the experience of making music—fame and fortune be damned.

I first caught wind of Ely with his 1981 album Musta Notta Gotta Lotta, which introduced me to Jimmie Dale Gilmore’s “Dallas” as well as “Hard Livin’” (a song written by David Halley that in 1987 would become a hit for Keith Whitley). Ely was already a Lone Star legend by then. As the ‘80s wore on, I’d find him wherever I sought out music I loved. He even got some rock radio play in my area with 1988’s “Grandfather Blues.”

I always considered him the rightful heir to Buddy Holly. Although born in Amarillo, Ely is most associated with Holly’s home base of Lubbock, and later, Austin. He also shared Holly’s restless energy. His live shows were the stuff of legend, and his choice of backing musicians were always top-notch. Rock’n’roll barnburning guitarists from Ian Moore to David Grissom shared the stage with Ely, as well as stringmaster Lloyd Maines and sax legend Bobby Keys.

Yes, Ely rocked and rolled with a fierce punk energy and a rockabilly heart, but he could also turn around and deliver a true Tex-Mex heartbreaker.

…and spin a tale better than many novelists in just over three minutes.

Ely was also one hell of an interpreter. For my money, he delivered the definitive take on Bruce “Utah” Phillips’s “Rock Salt and Nails.” The first time I heard Robert Earl Keen’s damn-near perfect, “The Road Goes On Forever,” it was by Ely. With apologies to Keen, I still consider it Joe’s song.

Even sharing the mic with fellow Texan James McMurtry, Ely left his mark to the point where it sounded like the classic country/bluegrass standard, “Ole Slew Foot,” came from his pen.

He also made RC Banks’s “Where Is My Love” his own, best captured on one of the best live documents of its time, Live at Liberty Lunch.

With all his interpretive skills, however, Ely was a solid songwriter who could hold his own with every one of his Texas contemporaries, from Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt to Terry Allen and, a tad later, Lyle Lovett. For several years, Ely and Lovett would tour with Clark and John Hiatt in a sort of “in the round” songwriters’ showcase. “They set us up in alphabetical order,” Lovett told me in 2021. “Guy Clark was stage left. And then it was Joe Ely, then John Hiatt. During the show, Joe Ely used to point out, ‘Hey, we’re alphabetical by last name, too!’”1

A few big-name publications just have to point out that he was a forerunner to what became “Americana.” Yes, of course, but that lessens his legend. He was a rocker, a balladeer, a musician, a Texan, a troubadour, one helluva singer of songs, both poignant, goofy, and everything in between. He was the best kind of artist: the song he was singing at that particular moment was all that mattered in the world. You couldn’t help but get pulled into his orbit. The roots rock boom that occurred in the 1980s was partially paved by Ely’s incendiary live shows—performances that could never be properly captured in the studio.

Ely even had a hand in the creation of Stubb’s BBQ sauce. Stubb’s was a Lubbock BBQ joint ran by Christopher “Stubb” Stubblefield that first opened in 1968 and throughout the 1970s hosted Sunday night jams with the likes of Ely, Muddy Waters, and Stevie Ray Vaughan, among others. Stubb was the godfather of Joe and Sharon’s daughter, Marie Elena (who was named after Buddy Holly’s widow). Stubb made the first of what became Stubb’s BBQ sauce in Joe and Sharon’s kitchen, and Joe designed the original bottle’s logo.

Sharon Ely shared a story of those days at the original Stubb’s in Lubbock on Ely’s Facebook page in 2021…

STUBB’S had nailed the curtains down in all the booths so people would quit wiping there greasy bbq hands on the curtains.
Tom T Hall never told STUBB’S as long as they were friends that he was a vegetarian.
One night At STUBB’S Joe and Tom played a pool tournament with an onion as cue ball in STUBB’S back room where he kept all the food to cook with. The pool table was back there and sometimes served as a bed for STUBB’S when he couldn’t make it home.
I secretly stole the cue ball that night when Tom and Joe were in the back playing pool continuously.
I was thinking they would come out front and play music for all the people waiting to hear them since there was no cue ball.
It was in my back pocket.
Instead, Joe found a bag of onions and pulled one out and grabbed a broom for a cue stick.
They continued to play pool.
Tom T won because Joe scratched the cue ball/ onion.

Back to the music. Of all Ely’s albums, I probably turn to 2003’s Streets of Sin most often. It’s a sober song cycle of life and loss and, of course, the road, that hasn’t lost a second of relevance over the years. When the tragic flood at Camp Mystic in the Texas Hill Country occurred this past summer, I couldn’t help but think of this song…

Ely and Springsteen first collaborated in the studio on 1995’s exquisite Letter to Laredo, with The Boss appearing on the album’s opening and closing cuts. He returned recently on “Odds of the Blues” from 2024’s Driven to Drive.

In September, the Ely family announced that Joe had been diagnosed with Lewy body dementia and Parkinson’s disease. Over the last several months, Ely and his wife Sharon pored through his vaults of music, finding and completing songs that they felt needed to see the light of day. Even before then, Ely was still releasing music, with Love and Freedom appearing in February 2025. It featured his inimitable takes on songs from Woody Guthrie (“Deportee”), Guy Clark (“Magdalene”), and a young fella Ely picked up hitch-hiking one day in the early ‘70s, Townes Van Zandt (“Waitin’ ‘round to Die”). But he was still rockin’ out with his own material as well…

On Monday, December 15, 2025, Ely died in his home in Taos, New Mexico, with Sharon and Marie by his side. In a cruel twist of fate, we’ve lost two members of the roots-rock supergroup Los Super Seven over the last two weeks. First Raul Malo, now Joe Ely.

Soon after his diagnosis, the Ely family shared this story on their website:

When Joe was just 18 years old, he was traveling in Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia with a theater group performing an anti-war play. On his day off, he wandered down to the sea. Rather than follow the crowds to the main diving spot, he chose a quieter, riskier cliff.

He dove beautifully into the water—only to be caught in a rip current. No matter how hard he swam, the tide dragged him farther out. A former lifeguard in Lubbock, Joe knew what to do, but the sea was stronger than him.

As exhaustion overtook him, something extraordinary happened. A calmness washed over him, and a voice—what we believe was an angel—spoke clearly: “Let go. Float.”

Joe obeyed. He stopped fighting, turned onto his back, and allowed the current to carry him. Miles down the coast, the tide delivered him to a safe, empty beach. Hungry, wet, and exhausted, he walked back to the castle where his fellow actors and musicians were staying.

That moment became a life lesson: sometimes the way forward is to stop struggling and go with the flow, to trust life’s current. It’s a message that carries us now—reminding us that life, like a song, has its own rhythm, and sometimes the most beautiful thing we can do is let it play.

For anyone discovering Joe Ely for the first time by reading this or the many tributes to him over the next few days and weeks, I hope you find something in the Mixtape below that’ll turn you into a lifelong fan, just like his music did for me well over 40 years ago.

Click here for the Apple Music version of this Mixtape.

Some country radio listeners in the early to mid-1990s may have been able to differentiate between the sudden influx of new male country hat acts (an inordinate amount of whom were named Tracy for some reason), but for many, they were varying degrees of the same nasal twang. Meanwhile, the 1992 Mavericks album, From Hell to Paradise, provided one of the most distinctive voices ever to grace the country airwaves, that of lead vocalist Raul Malo.

A first-generation American, Raul Francisco Martínez-Malo Jr, was born in Miami to parents who’d emigrated from Cuba. He’d formed the Mavericks in 1989 with drummer Paul Deakin, bassist Robert Reynolds, and guitarist Ben Peeler. While they were led by a voice that was downright Orbisonian, what also made The Mavericks stand out on country radio was their genre-bending sense of adventure underscored by immaculate taste. A sound that could channel the best of traditional country, honky-tonk, early rock’n’roll, jangle pop, Tex-Mex, Cajun, Latin, and swamp pop, The Mavericks gave us a melting pot of roots music funneled through a strong pop sensibility with every release.

Their first charting single was a spirited, souped-up cover of the Hank Williams standard, “Hey, Good Lookin’,” a gutsy move that endeared me to them right out of the gate. Programming a small town AM country station at the time, I added the single, and although I always considered it one of Hank’s most overplayed, yet weakest songs, I was impressed by the fresh energy they gave it. Even on this well-worn warhorse, Malo’s vocals and performance demanded your full attention. It peaked at 74 on the Billboard country singles chart in late spring of 1992 and was included on their second album—and major label debut—From Hell to Paradise. Their previous, self-titled debut, had been independently released two years earlier.1

By 1994, they hit it big with What a Crying Shame. Several singles were released over the course of the album’s run, and they hit the top 40 with four of them, causing the album to go platinum within a year. One of its singles was a cover of Bruce Springsteen’s Tunnel of Love track, “All That Heaven Will Allow.” The nominations and awards started to trickle in.

After some artists get just a tiny taste of success, they try to play it safe, not wanting to rock the boat of a winning formula. With each subsequent album, however, The Mavericks got even bolder and more adventurous. They leaned into the Tex-Mex thing with a track from their next album, Music for All Occasions, “All You Ever Do is Bring Me Down,” a collab with Tejano legend—and Texas Tornado—Flaco Jiménez. It resulted in both the Mavericks’ and Jiménez’s highest-charting country single.

While Malo wrote most of the band’s material over the course of their career, he also collaborated on occasion with top songwriters from Radney Foster and NRBQ’s Al Anderson to prolific country hitmaker Kostas. The Mavericks’ songs didn’t reach the top of the charts the way the singles from Brooks & Dunn, Garth Brooks, Shania Twain, or Tim McGraw did, but the quality was always there, as well as a devotion to sturdy, roots-based sonic textures. With Malo steering the ship, even the relatively sad songs (“Here Comes the Rain”, “Foolish Heart”) carried an underlying sense of the joy of expressing oneself through music.

Malo had a smile that could brighten the room or anyone’s day. The band as a whole were utterly incapable of pretension. Their shows were a non-stop celebration. They contributed songs to the soundtracks of big films, from Apollo 13 (their take on “Blue Moon”) to the John Travolta angel flick, Michael (“I Don’t Care if You Love Me Anymore”).

Trampoline followed in 1998, powered by the ebullient “Dance the Night Away,” a track that didn’t make any impact on country radio, except in my little corner of the AM dial, where I had it in as heavy a rotation as I could.

In 2001, Malo released his first solo LP, Today. On it, he dove headfirst into his Cuban roots while exploring Latin rhythms and many other forms.

Three years later, he released The Nashville Acoustic Sessions, which included covers of songs by Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Gordon Lightfoot, Jimmie Rodgers, and, yes, Roy Orbison.

Over the next 20 years, releases would alternate between Malo’s solo work (which would usually involve casual, laid-back, yet passionate recordings of carefully chosen covers) and albums by The Mavericks. Brand New Day was a particularly inspired set of songs in 2017, followed by one of the best holiday albums of the 21st century, 2018’s Hey! Merry Christmas.

In 2020, they recorded their first album in Spanish. Here’s my review of The Mavericks en Español for No Depression.

Moon & Stars followed in 2024, and included a Malo co-write with the always great KT Oslin2 years before called “Live Close By, Visit Often.” Oslin had included it on her album of the same name in 2001. It was, well, a thrill to hear Raul put his spin on it (with Nicole Atkins helping out).

Just a month after the album’s release, Malo announced that he had been diagnosed with intestinal cancer. The band cancelled many of their shows for the remainder of the year as he underwent treatment. As everyone prayed and gave best wishes for the best of outcomes, the news only got worse. By late summer of this year, it was revealed that the cancer had spread to his spinal cord and brain.

On the weekend of December 5th and 6th, “Dance the Night Away: A 35 Year Musical Legacy Celebration Honoring Raul Malo” was put together at the Mother Church of Country Music, the Ryman Auditorium, and featured guests from Steve Earle and Marty Stuart to Maggie Rose and Jamey Johnson. Malo was unable to attend, but he shared a statement especially for the event:

I’ve always believed that music is one of the most powerful bridges we have. It crosses cultures, politics, (and God, don’t we need that right now?) languages, and sometimes pain. In these past months, I’ve had to fight battles I’ve never imagined. But on the hardest of days, music remained my companion. Your letters, your stories of how a song helped you through loss, heartbreak, joy, those became our songs. You all carried me more than you know. To my family band, the National Music Council, my musical collaborators, and every fan around the world: Thank you for giving my voice a place to live, even when my body cannot be the one delivering it. I accept this award with profound gratitude and with the hope that the music we create continues to inspire, to heal and bring people together.

On December 8, Raul Malo passed away, leaving us with memories of not only that incomparable voice, but the warmth, joy, and wondrous smile of a big-hearted, beautiful man. A statement on The Mavericks’ official socials read in part:

Anyone with the pleasure of being in Raul’s orbit knew that he was a force of human nature, with an infectious energy. Over a career of more than three decades entertaining millions around the globe, his towering creative contributions and unrivaled, generational talent created the kind of multicultural American music reaching far beyond America itself…

Though his earthly body may have passed, Raul’s spirit will live on forever in heaven, and here on earth through the music, joy, and light he brought forth. His contributions to American and Latin music will be everlasting, as his songs and voice touched fans and fellow artists around the world.

Malo’s presence elevated everyone he came in contact with. He went out of his way to help promote new, deserving talent. We won’t see his kind again, but I believe this old world would be a lot better if we’d all take just a little of his kindness and love and help spread it around just as he did, and as his music will continue to do, for decades to come.

Now, how’s about a little Tiny Desk action from happier times, followed by a Mixtape of some kickass Mavericks and Malo tunes to help us dance the night away…

Find the Apple Music Mavericks/Malo Mixtape here.

…and one more for the road, ‘cause why not?

Steve Cropper was a part of my family since before I was born. As long as I can remember, the records that featured his guitar and/or co-writing credit occupied my parents’ turntable. When I was still in single digits, it was the Stax sound that attracted me to the world of music more than any other style; more than rock, more than country. It moved and soared like the gospel my grandma loved, but it was also my gateway to the blues. Most of that greasy soul sound came from the fingers and minds of Booker T. and the MGs.

The first time I heard “Green Onions,” it was the funkiest thing I’d experienced up to that point. That organ riff by Booker T. Jones was the nastiest, deepest sound on Earth. After Jones sets up the groove for a few bars and solos for another turn, the whole piece is elevated by Cropper’s Esquire. Nothing fancy, nothing flashy. But it sounded like he was strangling every ounce of soul out of that thing. As in all of Stax’s best moments in its heyday, the space left open between the instruments was an instrument and a groove all its own.

Of course, if Cropper had just been the guitarist for Booker T. and the MGs, his legacy would be secure, but he also co-wrote some of the most enduring soul songs in the genre’s history.

Fun fact: The Colonel came up with the intro to “Knock On Wood” by playing the opening he created for “In the Midnight Hour” backwards.

In addition to co-writing with both Wilson Pickett and Eddie Floyd, Cropper teamed up with Floyd again in 1966 and wrote 634-5789, the greatest song with a telephone number ever written (sorry, Jenny). It soon became another Pickett hit.

Here’s the version featured in the unfairly maligned Blues Brothers 2000 that includes both Pickett and Floyd, as well as the hotshot guitarist of the moment, Jonny Lang…

Speaking of the Blues Brothers, it was a blast watching MGs Cropper and Donald “Duck” Dunn as part of the Blues Brothers Band in the original 1980 movie, especially the famous scene at Bob’s Country Bunker…

The Blues Brothers first performed on Saturday Night Live by trotting out a Sam and Dave chestnut from 1967, featuring The Colonel’s legendary intro (which he created by sliding a Zippo up the fretboard), and Sam Moore calling out halfway through, “Play it, Steve!”

Of course, Cropper helped flesh out Otis Redding’s idea that became Redding’s only number one hit…sadly, after Otis passed.

Cropper also laid down one of the great rhythm parts of all time, in addition to one bad-ass solo, for this 1968 Johnnie Taylor classic.

…and while The Colonel’s understated genius is on display in many examples over the decades, as reminded me in the comment section, it was actually Booker T. that provided the sympathetic backing to William Bell’s soul-soaked, aching apology on “I Forgot to Be Your Lover,” a song Jones co-wrote with Bell. (We’ll keep it here anyway, because it’s just too good not to spin…)

And finally, co-written with the rest of the MGs along with Junior Wells, everyone from Free to Led Zeppelin has put their own spin on Albert King’s “The Hunter” over the years. In this version, Cropper’s steady rhythm stabs leave plenty of space for King to do his thing…

Cropper didn’t live in the past, however. He kept making music up to the very end, as his latest recordings were just recently completed and will hopefully be available soon. He collaborated over the ensuing decades with everyone from Etta James and Big Star to Rod Stewart to Neil Young. It’s his time at Stax, though, that will most likely outlast us all. Now, the MGs are all together again, most likely laying down a funky groove for Otis while they await their organ-wielding boss. I hope they’re waiting a long time.

Related Mixtapes:

It was the year of terror attacks in both Oklahoma City and Tokyo, Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated, the Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame opened in Cleveland, and in LA, O.J.’s gloves didn’t fit. Still, 1995 now somehow seems quaint.

In the world of film, with the success of Pulp Fiction from the previous year, 1995 saw an influx of, yes, some cheap imitators, but it also pushed studios to take chances on new, original ideas—from Toy Story to Se7en and The Usual Suspects. It was also the year that saw the Tarantino universe expand with Robert Rodriguez’s Desperado (a follow-up to his 1992 release El Mariachi) and Four Rooms, while bringing like-minded material to the big screen, like the Warren Zevon-inspired title of Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead, and the film adaptation of Elmore Leonard’s Get Shorty.

It was the era when movies could be mainstream—Clueless made a star out of Alicia Silverstone—and offbeat: two ensemble films—from Wayne Wang and Paul Auster—centered around a Brooklyn cigar shop, Smoke and Blue in the Face. Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes expanded their acting chops through To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything! Julie Newmar, and the same year Empire Records was set around a record store, ’s High Fidelity hit bookshelves, five years before its film adaptation landed in theaters.

Kevin Smith followed up the previous year’s Clerks with Mallrats, and Bad Boys made action stars out of Will Smith and Martin Lawrence. Ice Cube and Chris Tucker starred in the instant classic, Friday, and we got a new Bond that year, as Pierce Brosnan took over the role of 007 in GoldenEye. Spike Lee’s latest joint was Clockers, while an all-star cast powered Waiting to Exhale. Martin Scorsese gave us a new gangster epic with Casino, and Michael Mann was the director who finally placed Al Pacino and Robert De Niro on screen together in Heat.

Musically, 1995 was no 1994. The previous year saw many landmark releases and moments, while ‘95 was more of a placeholder. There were blockbusters and game changers, such as Jagged Little Pill and The Woman in Me, but overall, the list of superb releases pales in comparison to ‘94. The Unplugged trend was still hot by ‘95, as the Stones gave us their take on it with Stripped (which included a cheeky cover of “Like a Rolling Stone”) and Bob Dylan broke down and booked an appearance on the MTV phenomenon, decked out in an outfit that harkened back to the Dylan of 30 years earlier. 30 years on, we can now look back on this moment and marvel at the fact that he’s just announced more tour dates for 2026.

The mid-’90s were also when my excitement over new artists began to wane, while I still championed new music from established acts. I was never a fan of grunge (or post-grunge, for that matter) as an overall sound, but I did like the odd song or two. I was a bigger fan of Mad Season and Temple of the Dog than I was of the bands that spawned them. The new artists from that era I did love, Gov’t Mule and the Black Crowes, harkened back to the blues-rock I adored from the ‘70s: Humble Pie, the Faces, Mountain, et al. It’s not that I’m an old fogey who detests new music by new bands—in fact, quite the contrary, as I’ve found a lot to love in the music of the last 25 years. It’s just the mid-’90s were a dark time for rock and mainstream country overall, while I found more pleasure on the outskirts of what was on the radio, and in the world of hip-hop, which showed more risk and creativity than what most other mainstream genres were dishing out.

Below are 25 albums (and 25 more honorable mentions) that have more or less remained close to my turntable, CD player, mp3 player, and/or phone over the last 30 years, followed by a mixtape of 95 songs that pull from this list and 45 more albums at least worth mentioning. As always, if you don’t see a favorite here, let me know in the comments.

Steve Earle - Train a Comin’

The first album following Steve Earle’s “vacation in the ghetto,” Train a Comin’ is an understated, yet stunning document of songs that date back to his pre-stardom days when he was sitting around Guy Clark’s kitchen table, to a song he wrote while locked up, the moving eulogy, “Goodbye.” In between, from the many layers of “Tom Ames’ Prayer” to the righteous hillbilly covers of “I’m Looking Through You” and “By the Rivers of Babylon,” Steve Earle proved that second chances sometimes far exceed the first ones. (I’m sure Travis Tritt covering “Sometimes She Forgets” didn’t hurt Earle’s bank account, either.)

Natalie Merchant - Tigerlily

Natalie Merchant’s first solo effort expands her musical palette into more groove-oriented material—including the moody, bluesy “Carnival”—while maintaining that calm, cool vocal delivery that was her trademark with 10,000 Maniacs. Years later, there’s still plenty to discover on Tigerlily, and “Wonder” still lives up to its name.

Oasis - (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?

The Gallagher brothers’ US tour in 2025 was one of the biggest music events of the year, but that wouldn’t have been possible without the success of their sophomore release in 1995. With expansive production and more focus than the previous year’s Definitely Maybe, (What’s the Story) Morning Glory cemented Oasis as one of the ‘90s biggest and best rock’n’roll bands. Anyway, here’s “Wonderwall…”

Mojo Nixon - Whereabouts Unknown

Mojo Nixon followed his first post-Skid Roper, full band album, 1990’s Otis!, with this Eric “Roscoe” Ambel-produced classic. Flanked by the mighty Toadliquors and extolling the virtues of pigskin, drinkin’, Elvis (with a surprisingly sincere take on “If I Can Dream”), and freedom with a capital “F” while lambasting everything from McDonald’s to Morrissey and shithouse doors, Whereabouts Unknown remains Mojie-Wojie’s finest moment on record.

Gov’t Mule - Gov’t Mule

Warren Haynes and Allen Woody formed Gov’t Mule along with the former drummer for the Dickey Betts Band, Matt Abts (whom Haynes had befriended while playing in the same group before following Betts into the reunited Allmans lineup). All three bonded over their love of heavy, bluesy, bare-bones hard rock; the kind that stripped away all unnecessary accoutrements until there was nothing left but muscle and space. Gov’t Mule is the sound of a band that hadn’t been exposed to any music past 1975, but the music they did embrace ranged from Son House to Frank Zappa, John Coltrane to Free, Hendrix to Funkadelic. This is the album where it all beautifully—and powerfully—coalesced.

Read my full retrospective review for Albumism here.

Neil Young - Mirror Ball

Neil Young had rediscovered his mojo and his muse by the end of the 1980s with Freedom, and he kept the momentum going through the unimpeachable Ragged Glory and the 1994 Kurt Cobain eulogy, Sleeps With Angels. By the time of Mirror Ball, he had accepted his role as Godfather of Grunge by recruiting noted Young fans Pearl Jam—at the time probably the biggest group in the world—to be his backing band. While they don’t have the sloppy, cantankerous charm and swagger of Crazy Horse, they loosen up just enough to allow Neil to bob and weave downtown and all around under the mirror ball. Not quite as fun as Hindu Love Gods, but still a worthy listen.

Alanis Morrisette - Jagged Little Pill

One may say the lyrics are well beyond her 21 years at the time, but age isn’t the point. Alanis Morissette could channel the emotional weight of her experience into grungy, heavy pop vignettes that followed in the footsteps of Joni Mitchell while paving the way for Taylor Swift. Jagged Little Pill was a powerful statement of speaking one’s truth and owning one’s experiences. That’s why it still sounds as striking today, 30 years on…even if “Ironic” mostly really isn’t.

Southern Culture on the Skids - Dirt Track Date

SCOTS had been blasting their way through clubs and bars in the south for over a decade before MTV took notice with their video for “Camel Walk” (which was reportedly filmed in drummer Dave Hartman’s single-wide). Although that got the most attention at the time, the rest of Dirt Track Date emphasized what was wonderfully wacky about this NC surf/swamp trio. From the frenetic funk of “Soul City” (the name of a real community in NC’s Warren County) and the celebration of the glory of yardbirds in “8 Piece Box” and “Fried Chicken and Gasoline,” to the motorvatin’ swamp rock shoutout to Tony Joe White on “Voodoo Cadillac,” Dirt Track Date is the one to initiate the uninitiated into the SCOTS world.

Warren Zevon - Mutineer

Zevon’s output in the fifteen years of his life rivaled his ‘70s work in its emotional gravitas and cynical outlook. Mr. Bad Example and Life’ll Kill Ya are modern classics that explore the depths of human depravity while simultaneously acknowledging the vulnerability of mortality. Mutineer followed that pattern while building on the one-man band effort of the 1993’s excellent solo live document Learning to Flinch. Zevon does most of the work on his own here, and while the music at times sounds mechanical and claustrophobic, the songs—from “The Indifference of Heaven” to “Seminole Bingo” and the moving title cut—are worthy additions to his peerless canon.

Shaver - Unshaven: Live at Smith’s Olde Bar

Shaver’s 1993 release, Tramp on Your Street, stands as one of the greatest albums of the ‘90s. It was a perfect blend of Billy Joe Shaver’s brilliant dirt road poetry and his son Eddy’s hard rock guitar and attitude. Powered by Brendan O’Brien’s production (who also helped out on guitar and bass here and there)—the link between the hick-rock of the Georgia Satellites and the Seattle sound, as he helmed projects by Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and Stone Temple Pilots, as well as Dan Baird and the Black Crowes—Live at Smith’s Olde Bar is simply the document of an unfiltered—and unshaven—Shaver show (I caught them on this tour in Chapel Hill and my ears are still not quite right), with (former Ga Satellite) Keith Christopher on bass and Craig Wright on drums. “We need more beer up here,” Billy Joe yells out at one point, and if that’s the lubricant that kept them going, I say keep ‘em coming and ride ‘em down easy.

Emmylou Harris - Wrecking Ball

By the mid-’90s, Daniel Lanois—who had already established himself in the rock world with the success of Peter Gabriel’s So and, along with Brian Eno, U2’s The Joshua Tree—was hot stuff in the rock world. He had helped bring Bob Dylan back from the plastic wilderness of the ‘80s with Oh Mercy, and brought out the best in the Neville Brothers on the exquisite Yellow Moon. With Wrecking Ball, he set his sights on Emmylou Harris. In doing so, Harris was able to express herself with Lanois’s brilliant rhythm section of Brian Blade and Daryl Johnson, along with assists from longtime friend Neil Young, U2’s Larry Mullen Jr, and a flawless song selection from artists as varied as Gillian Welch, Dylan, Young, Steve Earle, David Olney, and Jimi Hendrix. 30 years on, Wrecking Ball stands out as a defining moment in whatever the hell Americana is.

John Lee Hooker - Chill Out

With 1989’s The Healer, John Lee Hooker became an ambassador of the blues, a role that had been previously—and seemingly exclusively—reserved for B.B. King. But through the help of Bonnie Raitt, Carlos Santana, and a host of other superstars, the Grammys came calling, and Hooker was finally given credit for being the father of boogie. The magic that made The Healer a success was tried again on 1995’s Chill Out. Carlos Santana reappears on the breezy title cut, and while the album as a whole didn’t reach the heights of The Healer, it proved that Hooker could weave his boogie through many styles yet remain undoubtedly The Hook.

John Prine - Lost Dogs and Mixed Blessings

Although 1991’s The Missing Years bests Lost Dogs and Mixed Blessings song for song, the latter still had enough strong moments to warrant its place on this list. “Lake Marie,” “Ain’t Hurtin’ Nobody,” and “He Forgot It Was Sunday” are all strong additions to Prine’s catalog, and Howie Epstein returned to give the album a polished sheen to attract new fans without alienating Prine’s longtime devotees.

Tracy Chapman - New Beginning

Proving she was no one-hit wonder, Tracy Chapman hit again in 1995 with the straight blues, “Give Me One Reason,” a song of courage and straight talk to a partner that was powerful in its candid demands. It was “Fast Car” several miles down the road. The rest of New Beginnings was just as strong, especially the beautiful and engrossing “Smoke and Ashes.”

D’Angelo - Brown Sugar

The loss of D’Angelo this year was tragic and way too soon, and it caused many to realize that while he’d been a force of creativity for decades, he was not very prolific. That only highlighted the care he put into his work. He’d release no album before its time, and Brown Sugar was a testament to his meticulous, flawless taste.

Van Morrison - Days Like This

Van Morrison moved away from the meditative spiritual soundscapes of his ‘80s work after 1991’s double album, Hymns to the Silence, settling into more of a return to blues/soul/jazz workouts on ‘93’s Too Long in Exile. By 1995, he found a way to successfully merge both worlds again with Days Like This. The title track was an ode to joy that the perpetually grumpy Irishman somehow seems to deftly toss out at will, while “Ancient Highway” reaches back to the Tupelo Honey era, finding magic in nostalgia and folklore, as only Van can do.

Bad Company - Company of Strangers

When Company of Strangers hit the shelves in 1995, it was as if—short of Paul Rodgers returning—all was right in the rock world again. The Brian Howe years were finally past us, and Bad Company appeared to, seemingly overnight, remember the blues rock they had built upon with Free and Mott the Hoople—the sound that had made their name to begin with. New singer Robert Hart helped Mick Ralphs find the blues in his guitar again, and yes, although Hart was kind of a bargain-store version of Rodgers, it was a large leap back in the right direction. By 1999, Rodgers would rejoin for a handful of fun new tracks on The ‘Original’ Bad Company Anthology, and just a few weeks ago, they were inducted into the Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame. Of course, Free deserved to be in there first, but that’s an argument for another day. When they do make it in, at least they’ll be in good company.

Joe Ely - Letter to Laredo

Flourishing flamenco guitar dominates many of the tracks on Letter to Laredo, another in a long line of classics from Joe Ely. Mostly an acoustic affair, although it lacked the electricity of some of his other releases, the energy and power were in the delivery and ideas that permeate throughout the album. Kicking off with a song that had previously appeared on Will and the Kill’s self-titled album, “All Just to Get to You” is stripped back here and given a boost by backing from none other than Bruce Springsteen. Ely offers a cheeky callback to an earlier tune with “She Finally Spoke Spanish to Me.” Letter to Laredo closes with the striking, “I’m a Thousand Miles From Home” (with The Boss returning on backing vocals), which encapsulates the best of Texas singer-songwriter/progressive/folk-whatever-you-wanna-call-it in one perfect performance.

Guy Clark - Dublin Blues

After a one-off on Sugar Hill in 1989, Guy Clark moved to Elektra/Asylum for 1992’s excellent Boats to Build and '95’s even better Dublin Blues. (He’d return to Sugar Hill for ‘97’s Keepers, one of the best live albums of the 1990s.) The title track leads the way, but there’s plenty more here—from the gut-wrenching ode to his father, “The Randall Knife,” to the matter-of-fact wisdom of “Stuff That Works” and “The Cape.” Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, Kenny Malone, and Verlon Thompson offer quiet, sympathetic backing throughout, while Kathy Mattea and Nanci Griffith add backing vocals. A high point in a career filled with them.

Little Feat - Ain’t Had Enough Fun

What happens when one of rock’s most well-respected and established bands not only successfully reunites against all odds without their original creative force, but then places a woman out front of what was originally an all-boys’ club? Little Feat found out with Ain’t Had Enough Fun. Shaun Murphy, originally the Stoney part of Stoney and Meat Loaf in the early ‘70s, had been singing backup for Bob Seger and others—including the Feat—for over 20 years when the call came down to help front the band (and she stayed with them until 2009). The result was one of their most diverse and joyous post-Lowell George releases.

Whiskeytown - Faithless Street

After Uncle Tupelo begat Son Volt and Wilco, the alt.country scene ballooned, and Raleigh, NC’s Whiskeytown rode the wave, even though the perpetually petulant Ryan Adams hated being lumped in with any sort of scene, man. Regardless, Faithless Street is one of the great albums of its time, a stellar debut that paved the way for the classic Stranger’s Almanac soon after. The story of Whiskeytown is a crazy, complex story that would make a great book. Oh, wait—it already did, thanks to David Menconi.

Shania Twain - The Woman in Me

Shania Twain was part of Mercury Records’ Triple Play sampler sent to radio stations in 1993. They were hyping Twain with two other newbies: John Brannen and Toby Keith. (Well, success-wise, I guess it ended up as a double-play. Sorry, John.) Baseball analogies aside, Twain’s debut didn’t make waves, but its follow-up, The Woman in Me, virtually changed the landscape of country music for the rest of the decade and beyond. Producer (and then-husband) Robert John “Mutt” Lange brought his hard rock pedigree (Def Leppard, AC/DC) to the country format. The fun (for me, anyway) is listening to Shania’s songs and picturing Joe Elliott singing them (check out the tune below and tell me that’s not a Def Leppard hit dressed up for Nashville) or vice-versa (I can definitely hear Shania tackle “Animal” or “Hysteria”). 1997’s Come On Over was her biggest moment, but The Woman in Me is where Shania found her footing.

John Hiatt - Walk On

At the time, Walk On was a complete 180 from Hiatt’s previous platter, 1993’s Perfectly Good Guitar. Whereas the rock on PGG was bright, loud, fierce, joyous, and menacing all at once, Walk On is the sound of wood; of abandoned barns and crumbling sheds at dusk; rusty windmills squeaking softly and rhythmically to a gentle evening breeze. It seems peaceful enough, but underneath, something seems amiss. Someone somewhere has been up to no good. While the individual songs convey their own emotions that may range from romance and happiness to hope and faith here and there, the overall vibe on Walk On is unsettling.

Kevin Welch - Life Down Here on Earth

After going the mainstream route on 1990’s self-titled debut and its 1992 fantastic follow-up, Western Beat, Kevin Welch decided to team up with Kieran Kane (formerly half of the O’Kanes, part of the Great Nashville Credibility Scare of the mid-to-late ‘80s), Michael Henderson, Tammy Rogers, and others, and form Dead Reckoning Records. Kane’s album Dead Reckoning and Welch’s Life Down Here On Earth were two of the label’s first releases. Life Down Here On Earth dug deeper than any of Welch’s output up to that point. The production was raw and void of any studio tricks, the performances were heartfelt and soulful, and Welch’s lyrics celebrated the power of resilience in both life and love throughout. A mid-’90s masterpiece of roots music.

The Highwaymen - The Road Goes On Forever

Their third album was their final one together, and their best. While the Highwaymen’s debut became a hit on the strength of the legends participating more than the contents of the album, its follow-up was better overall, but it still paled in comparison to ‘95’s The Road Goes On Forever. With Don Was in the producer’s seat, he pulled strong performances out of Waylon, Willie, Cash, and Kris, and they were blessed with their best set of material. From Waylon’s powerful “I Do Believe” to Billy Joe Shaver’s instant classic, “Live Forever” (which, in their hands, plays as an addendum to “Highwayman”), and the sprawling Robert Earl Keen-penned title track, it was one of the best country albums of the year.

The following doc offers the perfect final word, however. Filmed during the making of the album, when all its participants were still around and still vital, it shows the Highwaymen’s monumental personalities on full display. No need for outside talking heads when you’ve got the Mount Rushmore of Outlaw Country swapping tales and songs.

Honorable Mentions:

Eric Ambel & Roscoe’s Gang - Loud & Lonesome

Garbage - Garbage

Prince - The Gold Experience

Rolling Stones - Stripped

Shelby Lynne - Restless

Tony Joe White - Lake Placid Blues

Terry Anderson - You Don’t Like Me

2Pac - Me Against the World

Frank Zappa - Civilization Phase III

John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers - Spinning Coin

Buddy Miller - Your Love and Other Lies

King Crimson - Thrak

Robert Cray Band - Some Rainy Morning

Kim Richey - Kim Richey

Mad Season - Mad Season

The Mavericks - Music for All Occasions

Chris Whitley - Din of Ecstasy

PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love

Son Volt - Trace

David Bowie - 1. Outside: The Diary of Nathan Adler or The Art-Ritual Murder of Baby Grace Blue. A Non-Linear Gothic Drama Hyper-Cycle

The Jayhawks - Tomorrow the Green Grass

Bruce Springsteen - The Ghost of Tom Joad

Kenny Wayne Shepherd - Ledbetter Heights

Joan Osborne - Relish

Kieran Kane - Dead Reckoning

The Big 95 from ‘95 Mixtape:

Now, for all of the above plus 45 more, here’s a Mixtape of The Big 95 from ‘95. Apple users can click here.

Further Reading:

During that time, he got to see ‘90s country star Mark Chesnutt have a hit with his song, “Trouble;” he saw Garth Brooks and George Jones have a hit with a song called “Beer Run” that just so happened to have the same title as a song he’d recently written, causing him to respond with a song of his own called “If Tomorrow Never Comes;” and he got to duet record with many of his heroes and colleagues through the years—including no less than Loretta Lynn.

Sadly, word came down early on November 15, 2025, that Todd Snider, at the way-too-young age of 59, no longer walked among us. Still, he left us so many great memories, both musical and otherwise.

Todd had a way with words that few possessed. He could tell a simple tale with a twist that made you second-guess your knowledge while marveling at his wordplay. He was a bona fide folk-singing troubadour in the grand tradition of Woody Guthrie, Jerry Jeff Walker, and Townes Van Zandt. He was sharp—an intellectual dressed in hippie clothes. He was also a soft-hearted hippie who could rock it out with the best of ‘em. See my piece from last year on my favorite Todd album, Viva Satellite:

It’s as if fate intervened over the last couple of years and guided him to re-record much of his catalog for what he called the “Purple Versions.” They were filled with stories—both straightforward and not—of the making of those albums and the songs within them. They proved what most of us already knew: that Todd Snider was a one-of-a-kind storyteller and a once-in-a-blue-moon talent.

Turns out he was much more than just an alright guy.

Find the Apple Music version of the R.I.P., Todd Snider Mixtape by clicking here.

There’s never been a moment that Neil Young wasn’t in my life. He’s one of those cornerstone artists who helped shape my taste for as long as I’ve been aware of music itself. Being that his birthday falls just two days before mine, I’ve also felt an odd kinship with this fellow Scorpio; his restless drive to not get pigeonholed into one sound or spot, while digging ever so deep into whatever passion strikes him when the mood arises.

Yes, Neil’s catalog includes some truly puzzling and, at times, frustrating sideroads—from Pono to Earth—but that’s what makes his career so fascinating and human. Still, I’m just as big a fan of folkie Neil as I am of feedback Neil.

The Mixtape link below reflects 80 of my favorite Young moments (they change quite regularly, however), where his quiet, contemplative side shares space with the feedback-fueled alter ego that fronts the mighty Crazy Horse. There’s a lot here, but there’s, of course, so much more. As one of the most prolific artists of the better part of the last century, it’s impossible to encapsulate his career into merely one Mixtape. His Archives collections prove that. Still, what follows are the ones I return to most often. Hopefully, they’ll stir some memories for the longtime fan, while serving as an illuminating gateway for the uninitiated.

Happy 80th, old man. Long may you run.

Find the Neil Young at 80 Mixtape for Apple Music by clicking on the photo.

Just in time for your Halloween festivities…

Apple Music users can access this Mixtape here.