Wanna know what I like best about this cheapo best-of compilation with the impossibly unwieldy title? It’s a big fat example of pocket-lining chicanery. Instead of giving us the best of Joe Walsh’s solo career, the unscrupulous folks at MCA Records padded 2000’s 20th Century Masters The Millennium Collection: Best of Joe Walsh with cuts from Joe Walsh’s days with both the James Gang and its successor Barnstorm. Cheaters never prosper, or so it’s said, but in the case of this compilation we do.
Before we go on I should add that the compilation excludes Joe’s signature song, 1978’s “Life’s Been Good,” as well as “In the City” (from the soundtrack of 1979 film The Warriors) and 1980’s “A Life of Illusion,” the tunes your average listener knows him best for. This is due to the fact that 20th Century Masters The Millennium Collection: Best of Joe Walsh truncates Walsh’s career after his 1976 LP You Can’t Argue with a Sick Mind, leading the more conspiracy-minded to think he was immediately thereafter plucked up by an alien spacecraft for some healthy anal probing.
As for the compilation itself, it’s a hopeless muddle. In addition to the inclusion of the James Gang and Barnstorm material, you’re left to come to grips with the fact that three—count them three—of its songs (“Rocky Mountain Way,” “Turn to Stone,” and “Meadows”) appear on albums by both Barnstorm and the solo Joe Walsh. And get this—1973’s The Smoker You Drink, the Player You Get is, depending on your source, variously attributed to either Barnstorm or Walsh.
And it doesn’t help that it’s Walsh’s name that appears on the album cover. Due to all the confusion you’re left with a compilation that features either 1) three songs by the James Gang, five from Barnstorm, and two by Walsh the solo artist, or 2) three songs by the James Gang, two by Barnstorm, and five by Walsh. It’s enough to drive a person nuts.
But the compilation is great regardless, particularly if power trios are your cup of thunder. Over the course of his pre-1977 career Walsh was responsible for at least four classic songs, which is more than can be said for such contemporary power trios as Blue Cheer, West, Bruce and Laing, Mountain, and Beck, Bogart & Appice. To say nothing of the lesser known likes of Budgie, Dust, Three Man Army, Bang, Goddo and most likely others.
The comp opens with the James Gang’s “Walk Away,” which boasts a killer riff, mighty power chords and a great chorus, while the Gang’s “Funk #49″ is an electric slide and funk extravaganza right down to Jim Fox’s extended drum break and tres cool percussion and Walsh’s warped guitar intro and tendency to twist guitar lines into knots.
The James Gang’s “Midnight Man” suffers a bit from its pedestrian lyrics and general lack of pyrotechnics, but the nice guitar break and the vocals of Mary Sterpka make up for the lack of Fourth of July fireworks. Personally I wish MCA had replaced “Midnight Man” with the tour de force “Stop,” which beats most everything I’ve heard by Cream and includes a mind-blowing extended guitar solo. Alas, “Stop” clocks in at twelve minutes, and twelve-minute songs never find their way onto compilations like this one. Call all it length discrimination.
Barnstorm’s “Mother Says” (from the band’s 1972 eponymous debut) would make for a great Faces song and includes both a piano interlude that could be by Elton John and a fantastic jam that takes the song out. Follow-up hard rocker “Turn to Stone” boasts massive riffs and a great bridge, and once again goes out in a blaze of guitar glory. “Here We Go,” also from Barnstorm’s debut, opens on an acoustic note reminiscent of the Rolling Stones’ “Moonlight Mile” before kicking into higher gear and morphing into yet another guitar showcase.
“Meadows” is a lovely acoustic number with touches of electrified hard rock, especially at the end; the Walsh solo cut “County Fair” is mostly laid back until Walsh once again puts his axe talents on display with a duel between either Dan Fogelberg or J.D. Souther (the credits are foggy on the fact). The hushed and lovely “Help Me Thru the Night” is not to be confused with Kris Kristofferson’s “Help Me Through the Night,” and is the album’s sole ballad—even Walsh’s brief guitar solo is laid back.
“Rocky Mountain Way” is heavy indeed, thanks in part to the fact that Walsh layered multiple guitars to get its big bad sound. He also employs legendary sound engineer Bill Hell’s high-powered talk box—specifically designed for high-level concert stages—making Walsh the first rocker to use the device that Peter Frampton would later use to unintentionally humorous effect on Frampton Comes Alive.
Outright misleading 20th Century Masters The Millennium Collection: Best of Joe Walsh may be, and confusing to boot, but if you lean back and say to hell with who recorded what and when, it’s a fantastic hard rock album by a guy who produced some great music regardless of who he was recording with. Fans of “Life’s Been Good” will be disappointed, but for those of us whose preference lies with Walsh’s hard rock material should snatch this baby up.
It’s a pity Walsh will be best be remembered for “Life’s Been Good” and his work with the Eagles. Because his pre-1977 body of work constitutes a formidable legacy that has been too often ignored. There’s only one way to get to the man’s flashes of brilliance, and that’s by way of the Rocky Mountains.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
