Among 90’s metal fans, Down was minor legend before they stepped into a recording studio, having traded demo tapes through word-of-mouth for a period of time – much like the NWOBHM groups used to do – before they unleashed NOLA, a lurking, woolly mammoth beast of a disc, whose very reputation rivaled that of Anselmo’s main gig, Pantera. The template for these guys is Black Sabbath circa Master of Reality or Vol. 4, with big and heavy songs about drugs and other related things crossing paths with some weird skeletal balladry that sounds all spacey or something similar – like “Jail”. They aren’t flashy like Pantera, but much keener on building up real drama and tension, especially on tracks like “Eyes of the South” and “Rehab”. But it’s not all super heavy, either – “Stone the Crow” was the lone single, and is more like normal Southern/Classic rock except for a really brief breakdown at the end of the tune. Overall quite the curious release, and people thought it would be a one-off, which turned out not to be the case.

Generally, if you know anything about 60’s rock music, you know the story behind this album. The band name was nothing but a very loose placeholder, and the three main songwriters of the group wrote and performed the songs which comprise the record pretty much as separate entities. The 1960’s and 1970’s allowed for such behavior, and furthermore, bands like these could top the charts with ease if they had enough talent. Buffalo Springfield had already proven it was one of those bands thanks to a great single; now it was time for a classic album. Again, is far from consistent – but considering some of the high-water marks reached here, it doesn’t matter all that much. You are clinically brain dead if four, maybe five of these tracks do not stick in your head for weeks after hearing them, although if all the stars aligned we might have really heard a whopper of a record able to stand tall next to the greats of ’67.

Trust me, I've done the advance listening work on Uncle Ted and here to tell you this record and 1978's Double Live Gonzo are the only records worth getting. The albums themselves during his heyday were a few good songs and filler, and please don't bother with anything past the early 80's. All the hits are here for the most part, from the grimy "Cat Scratch Fever" to the stretched-out "Stranglehold" to Ted's *ahem* magnum opus - "Wang Dang Sweet Poontang". But in the very least, the man had enough sense to keep the focus mainly on his shredding wild man guitar heroics, and backed it with a nice lineup featuring Derek St. Holmes, Rob Grange, and Cliff Davies. The 1999 re-issue includes the heroic instrumental "Home Bound", if you're wondering.

Even though in some places it does reek of commercial gas, it's hard for me to completely slag on this fits-and-starts disc from one of my admittedly fav bands. But if you really want the best of Cheap Trick, get the early albums. The disc was re-released and re-mastered in 2003 adding the live version of "Clock Strikes Ten" as a bonus track.

Judging by the cover, one would think the album was the group's anti-war commentary piece, or something along those lines. In reality, it was a mish-mash of a few things - 1) the group's desire to make a surreal documentary about a kid who wakes up in a post-apocalyptic world, and this is the soundtrack for that film, 2) a few of the songs had already been recorded before the previous album, A Passion Play, and 3) yet another old track was re-worked to fit this album. The documentary was never made, even though actors were actually hired (John Cleese had a part, or so it says in the liner notes), and instead we get this album along with a bunch of bonus tracks for the remaster since the original vinyl couldn't hold them. The title track opens the deal on quite the sentimental tone, with David Palmer's orchestra given more emphasis. Then we get into more of Tull's wheelhouse, on tracks like "Queen and Country", "Ladies", and the entertaining "Sealion". The second side kicks off with the radio hits from the record - "Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day", and "Bungle in the Jungle". Both were seen as departures for the band at the time. "Two Fingers" is another matter - I have heard the original "Lick Your Fingers Clean", which I have always thought was far more direct - and to listen to this rambling, romanticized take on it just doesn't jibe in my head, for some reason. On the remaster there are a whopping seven bonus tracks - including a "Sealion 2" with bassist Jeffrey Hammond-Hammond on lead vocals - which gives you some indication of just how big this project was really meant to be. Overall, this is a fairly entertaining experience, but indicative of Tull's biggest ongoing issue - lack of quality control.