1. More of The Monkees (Deluxe Edition)
Yeah, the Monkees were built for TV, but this Deluxe Edition scrapes off some of the sheen. You get the familiar pop hooks, sure, but dig into those session outtakes and alternate mixes. You hear the musicians grappling with the material, the studio grit before the polish. It’s a fascinating peek behind the curtain, revealing the raw musical engine driving what many dismissed as mere product. The echoes of skilled players doing their work truly rumble.
2. Out To Lunch (The Rudy Van Gelder Edition)
Eric Dolphy’s 1964 masterpiece was already a challenging listen, a jagged, beautiful dive into post-bop's outer limits. The Rudy Van Gelder Edition, though, it’s like wiping decades of dust from a priceless canvas. Every dissonant horn wail, every percussive clatter, rings with startling clarity. It amplifies the cerebral chaos, making the album's audacious experiments in texture and improvisation even more immediate, more visceral. You feel the edges.
3. Kingdom Come
Back in '88, these guys caught flak for sounding a bit too much like Zeppelin. But dismiss that noise. *Kingdom Come* delivered some genuinely heavy, blues-infused hard rock. Lenny Wolf's vocals had that low, guttural wail, and the riffs were thick, muscular, straight out of the classic 70s playbook. It might have worn its influences on its sleeve, but the sheer force and swagger of tracks like "Get It On" stood tall. It was raw power, unpretentious and loud.
4. Betty Davis
Good Lord, Betty Davis was a force. Her self-titled 1973 debut is a primal scream of funk and raw sexuality that still sounds dangerous. She wasn't holding back, laying down grooves that were greasy, confrontational, and utterly groundbreaking. This wasn't polite soul; it was an untamed beast of an album, full of swaggering basslines, sharp guitar, and her inimitable, snarling delivery. She laid a blueprint for defiance that few have matched since. Pure, unfiltered energy.
5. Zuckerzeit
Cluster's 1974 offering, *Zuckerzeit*, remains an understated marvel of Krautrock. Gone are some of the earlier, more abstract explorations; here, it’s about rhythmic loops and minimal synth melodies. It’s electronic music pared down to its skeletal essence, creating these strangely compelling, almost childlike soundscapes. There’s a stark, almost industrial charm to its repetitive patterns, a hypnotic quality that pulls you in. It's a foundational text for anyone interested in electronic minimalism.
6. BBC Radiophonic Workshop - 21
This collection from the BBC Radiophonic Workshop is a historical document of sonic pioneers. These folks, tucked away in their studios, were conjuring otherworldly sounds from tape loops, oscillators, and custom-built gear. It’s the sound of pure experimentation, crafting atmospheres for radio and television that often felt alien, unsettling, or whimsical. You hear the birth of electronic music as a narrative tool, a raw, unpolished glimpse into a future that arrived sooner than we thought.
7. Christmas Collection
Most "Christmas Collections" are just a heap of predictable cheer, but even in the most saccharine assembly, you can sometimes unearth a gem. Think about the raw, heartfelt sincerity of early blues or gospel holiday tracks, or the sheer, unbridled vocal power behind a classic crooner's delivery before it became rote. A true forgotten echo here isn't the collection itself, but the unexpected, unvarnished human emotion that occasionally cuts through the seasonal artifice. It’s about seeking that grit.
8. Once Bitten
Great White's 1987 album, *Once Bitten*, might be dismissed as hair metal, but beneath the Aqua Net, there's a solid blues-rock foundation. Jack Russell’s voice had genuine grit, and Mark Kendall could lay down a riff with serious swagger. Tracks like "Rock Me" and "Save Your Love" had that arena-rock sheen, sure, but they were built on a true understanding of groove and powerful hooks. It's a testament to how the blues seeped into even the flashiest 80s rock.
9. Today! (Remastered 2024)
The Beach Boys' *Today!* from 1965, presented in a 2024 remaster, really lets you appreciate the genius bubbling just before *Pet Sounds*. The improved clarity brings out the intricate vocal arrangements and the sophisticated, often melancholic, instrumentation. You hear the raw ambition of Brian Wilson's production experiments, the layered harmonies shining through with newfound presence. It’s a classic that benefits immensely from a modern ear, revealing the depth in those foundational pop structures.
