Guest Howard
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And well put Tomas. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts. I must say I agree entirely with most of what you have posted. I believe Dave Stewart was quite harsh and a little extreme with his assessments. However, I think it is a step too far to say that Ringo was the best drummer in the world. The rest of the Beatles preferred him because their playing style was developed with him and his drumming was so essential to their music. Just because they preferred him doesn’t mean they think he was the best drummer in the world, but rather the best drummer for the Beatles, just like Charlie is the best drummer for the Stones, Keith Moon the best drummer for The Who and John Bonham the best drummer for Led Zeppelin.
Remember, in 1975 Karen Carpenter was named drummer of the year by Playboy Magazine, even though most of her hits included a studio drummer (Hal Blaine), much to the chagrin of Jon Bonham. I guess this says more about Playboy readership than anything else.
I must apologise for the “too sensitive” quip. I think maybe I was being, umm, a little insensitive! I know Beatles fans are very passionate about their music and the Fab Four.
Don’t worry Tomas, I share your thoughts about the Beatles, just as every other member of this club would and just like you, I too would love nothing better than sitting in the Cavern with Mona and Lisa.
I’ll endeavour to post another comparison that hopefully isn’t so controversial.
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Well I’m not surprised you developed a taste for Mustangs Jung. Nothing better than riding around in a car as a teenager listening to your favourite music. Can’t say I’m into the doof, doof, doof I hear emanating from cars these days though!
No need to guess what these two drag queens would have been listening to when they were 15/16!
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Nicely put Jacki. I like the Beatles for the same reason. As for the Stones, some of us grew up listening to them and have fond memories of all the parties we had that were highlighted by their music. Even today, I can still reflect on a particular day in the 1960s and 1970s purely by the music I was listening to, and as well as the Stones, this included the Beatles, The Kinks, Manfred Mann, The Hollies, The Who, Hermans Hermits, The Byrds, The EasyBeats, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, David Bowie, The Sex Pistols, The Saints, The Bee Gees, The Seekers and even Pussycat from Holland, just to name a few off the top of my head. We were so lucky to grow up with the music we had at the time.
I was living in Christchurch, New Zealand when I first heard Pussycat’s “Mississippi” in 1977. For a long time I always thought they must have been an American country and western group and it wasn’t until about ten years ago I found out they were three Dutch sisters and that they had the first ever Dutch number one single in the UK at the time. The song had been written by their guitar tutor in 1969 after he was inspired by the Bee Gees “Massachusetts”. Yes, music can have a lasting impression on some of us.
Just try substituting Massachusetts for Mississippi in this video:
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“Couldn’t imagine sitting in front of a group of screaming girls at one of those shows”. I understand Jung. It would have been worse at one of those early Beatles’ performances.
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Hi Jung. The problem with focusing just on results doesn’t achieve anything meaningful as the result can be engineered simply by the way the question is presented and the criteria used, as well as the age, gender and culture etcetera of those participating. Therefore the question included “Why”.
For example, some time ago my country held a referendum to decide whether we should become a republic. At the time, all the polls indicated that a substantial majority was in favour. However, we had a very conservative Prime Minister in power and he was opposed to any change. Consequently his government designed the question in a way they new it would be defeated. The opposition would have worded the question differently and would have got a different result. By the same token, I believe Britain could have achieved a different Brexit response if the campaign and actual question were handled differently.
Eric Olsen’s review above, isn’t anecdotal. His argument is well researched and includes facts that list the achievements of each band. Your googled surveys give us no information at all, and many such surveys are based on particular age groups and specific media audiences and are consequently subject to the personal preferences and anecdotal information as you indicate.
I am not surprised you agree with Tomas’s assessment about the Quora article and I believe most Club members would share your view. However, it wasn’t the only Quora response as there were many, but this one had the most replies. Maybe I’ll let Keith Richards have the last word.
At one point during the recent television special honoring the 40th anniversary of “Saturday Night Live,” a door on the set opened, and Keith Richards emerged to enthusiastic applause. Wearing a black jacket and slacks, his white shirt billowing out of his pants, Richards strode with his customary swagger down a short flight of stairs to center stage. As always, he looked like that was exactly where he belonged. The only thing missing was a cigarette—and his guitar.
“In the early Sixties, a band came out of England and it changed the world,” he said, his voice a honey-and-gravel growl. He paused for effect. “But enough about the Rolling Stones,” he continued, smiling. “Ladies and gentlemen, Paul McCartney.”
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Tomás, the Topic in “General Discussion” you need to research is, ”White Album Remix- Glass Onion”
Also of interest is a book by Carrott’s former manager John Starkey, Jasper and Me (1993; Etsiketsi Books), which includes the line “He once said, ‘Ringo isn’t the best drummer in the world. He isn’t even the best drummer in the Beatles.’ ” This quote was credited to John Lennon until Mark Lewisohn discovered, in 1983, that it was Mr Carrott who said it.
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Jung, further to my previous post, the following is another assessment of the top rock groups, with reasons, and includes the criteria. My initial post was a simple comparison between the two groups only.
Although this topic will always be very subjective, some reviewers do a good job of justifying their choices, as I believe the following reviewer does.
This review comes from Eric Olsen and was published 15 years ago.
How? Why?
While I speak with the thunderous voice of truth, this list of “the 10 best rock bands ever” isn’t a purely arbitrary designation yanked from my nether regions. First, the winners had to be an actual band, which eliminated most of the first wave rock ‘n’ roll greats of the ’50s like Elvis and Chuck Berry, who were essentially solo artists with backup bands, other towering figures like Bob Dylan, and vocal groups. The bands had to be within the greater circle of “rock” music and generate most or all of their own material. I took into account musical and cultural influence, popularity over time (staying power), and the “It’s a Wonderful Life” factor: What damage would be done if the band were to be removed from rock history? — the greater the damage, the greater the band. Removal of any of the below 10 would render rock history unrecognizable.
1. The Beatles
The Beatles are unquestionably the best and most important band in rock history, as well as the most compelling story. Almost miraculously, they embodied the apex of the form artistically, commercially, culturally and spiritually at just the right time, the tumultuous ’60s, when music had the power to literally change the world (or at least to give the impression that it could, which may be the same thing). The Beatles are the archetype: there is no term in the language analogous to “Beatlemania.”
Three lads from Liverpool — John Lennon, Paul McCartney and George Harrison — came together at a time of great cultural fluidity in 1960 (with bit players Stu Sutcliffe and Pete Best), absorbed and recapitulated American rock ‘n’ roll and British pop history unto that point, hardened into a razor sharp unit playing five amphetamine-fueled sets a night in the tough port town of Hamburg, Germany, returned to Liverpool, found their ideal manager in Brian Epstein and ideal producer in George Martin, added the final piece of the puzzle when Ringo Starr replaced Best on drums, and released their first single in the U.K., “Love Me Do/P.S. I Love You,” all by October of 1962.
Their second single, “Please Please Me,” followed by British chart-toppers “From Me to You,” “She Loves You,” “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” “Can’t Buy Me Love” (all Lennon/McCartney originals), and the group’s pleasing image, wit and charm, solidified the Fab Four’s delirious grip on their homeland in 1963.
But it was when the group arrived in the U.S. in February 1964 that the full extent of Beatlemania became manifest. Their pandemonium-inducing five-song performance on the Ed Sullivan Show on February 9 is one of the cornerstone mass media events of the 20th century. I was five at the time — my parents tell me I watched it with them, but I honestly don’t remember. I do remember, though, that the girls next door, four and six years older than I, flipped over that appearance and dragged me into their giddy madness soon thereafter. I loved “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” the Beatles’ first No. 1 in the U.S. (they had 19 more, still the record), more than any other song I have ever heard, or almost assuredly will ever hear, with a consuming intensity that I can only now touch as a memory.
The Beatles generated an intensity of joy that slapped tens of millions of people in the face with the awareness that happiness and exuberance were not only possible, but in their presence, inevitable. They generated an energy that was amplified a million times over and returned to them in a deafening tidal wave of grateful hysteria.
A partial result of that deafening hysteria was that the band became frustrated with their concerts and stopped performing live after a San Francisco show on August 29, 1966. Yet even this frustration bore fruit, as the four musicians, aided almost incalculably by producer Martin, turned their creative energies to the recording studio, producing ever more sophisticated and accomplished albums “Rubber Soul” (1965, “Drive My Car,” “Norwegian Wood,” “You Won’t See Me,” “Nowhere Man,” “Michelle”), “Revolver” (1966, Harrison’s “Taxman,” “Eleanor Rigby,” “Here, There and Everywhere,” “Yellow Submarine,” “Good Day Sunshine,” “And Your Bird Can Sing”), the majestic and epochal “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” (1967, title track, “With a Little Help From My Friends,” “Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds,” “When I’m Sixty-Four,” “A Day In the Life”).
Though centrifugal force began to take its toll, they still managed to produce three more album masterpieces, double-album “The Beatles” (1968, a.k.a. “The White Album,” with “Back In the USSR,” “Dear Prudence,” “Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da,” Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” “Blackbird,” “Birthday,” “Helter Skelter”), “Let It Be” (recorded in early 1969 but not released until 1970, with the title track, “Two Of Us,” “Across the Universe,” “I’ve Got a Feeling,” “The Long and Winding Road” and “Get Back”), and the fitting climax “Abbey Road” (1969, Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun” and “Something,” Ringo’s “Octopus’s Garden,” “Come Together,” “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer,” “I Want You,” “She Came In Through the Bathroom Window”).
They made an incredible promise and instead of backing down from that promise they delivered and delivered and delivered for eight years until the full implications of the promise finally hit them: they were staring into the jaws of an insatiable, ravenous beast that was no less beastly because it smiled and waved and gave them money. The Beatles finally suffered a collective inability to pretend that the beast was not a beast, and in 1970 they broke up and returned to being human.
Beatlemania redux
A small but significant slice of the Beatles’ magic came back in 1986 with release of the classic John Hughes teen flick “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” wherein Matthew Broderick’s title character lip-syncs the early Beatles classic “Twist and Shout” (ironically, a song they didn’t write) from the top of a float in a downtown Chicago parade.
John Lennon sang “Twist and Shout” as though the words were joyful corrosive poison, that his only hope of survival was to expel them with all the vehemence that his rhythm-besotted body could muster, and so does Ferris in the scene. Paul and George’s responses matched John’s zeal at the end of each stanza with their delirious “Ooohs.” They were enjoying themselves so much that this song seemed the most important thing in their lives at that moment. The Beatles knew the awesome responsibilities of pleasure.
Ferris lips lustily, the frauleins on the float shimmy and shake and bounce off of Ferris like electrons, the thousands in the crowd sing along from the pits of their pelvises. Chicago jams as one, recreating the Beatles’ amazing real-life feat of a unifying mass-madness that changed people’s lives for a time.
When I saw the movie in the theater in ‘86, people actually stood up and danced in the aisles. How could they not? The “Twist and Shout” segment was the most exciting and joyous musical moment in a movie since the Beatles own “A Hard Day’s Night” (1964), and was the perfect climax to Ferris Bueller’s film exploits.
The public was so wistful for Beatlemania that “Twist and Shout” returned to the charts for 15 weeks that year, a brief but sweet reminder of the real thing.
2. The Rolling Stones
When the Beatles ceased to exist in 1970, the title of “World’s Greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll Band” fell with very little dispute to the Rolling Stones, who by then were in the middle of such a wondrous creative peak that they might have challenged the Fab Four for the title anyway. It’s a title the one-time “anti-Beatles” haven’t relinquished since. Not only have the Stones been the greatest rock band in the world for more than 30 years, but they have been a functioning rock ‘n’ roll unit for more than 40, the longest run in history.
Boyhood friends Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, along with guitarist Brian Jones and pianist Ian Stewart, formed the first version of the Rollin’ Stones in 1962, and with the crack rhythm section of Charlie Watts on drums and Bill Wyman on bass soon on board, were ripping it up in an eight-month residency at London’s Crawdaddy Club shortly thereafter. A young and ambitious Andrew Loog Oldham saw them there:
“I saw them April 23, 1963 and then I knew what I had been training for,” he said in a phone interview from his home in Colombia. “The main thing they had was passion, which has served them to this day,” Oldham continued. Oldham’s first act as manager was to demote the shambling Stewart from the band’s live act for not keeping with his image of a lean, mean and sexy Stones (Stewart was the band’s road manager and recorded with them until his death in 1985).
At the time the Rollin’ Stones (named for the Muddy Waters song, Oldham added the “g”) were a ragged R&B cover band, but their run at the Crawdaddy had generated much attention, and with the Beatles on their way up no one wanted to miss the next big thing. Oldham quickly got them signed to Decca Records, which was still smarting from having turned down the Beatles.
In June of ’63 the Stones’ first single, a cover of Chuck Berry’s “Come On” went to No. 21 in the UK. The follow-up in November was a cover of the dreaded Beatles’ “I Wanna Be Your Man,” which rose to UK No. 12. By February of ’64, they reached the UK Top 10 with Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away,” which also cracked the Top 50 in the U.S. — the bad boys were on their way.
Oldham split with the band amid the insanity and media frenzy of drug busts in 1967, but he and the band generated some amazing music during the two years between the squirmingly lascivious “Satisfaction” — considered by many the greatest rock song ever — released in May 1965, and the hit-filled “Flowers” compilation, released in July ’67. Included was the incredibly self-aware narcissism of “Get Off Of My Cloud,” chamber music gentility and vulnerability of “As Tears Go By,” bemused urban modernity of “19thNervous Breakdown”; and the Stones’ first classic album, “Aftermath,” with the simultaneously mocking and empathetic drug song “Mother’s Little Helper,” deeply groovy and misogynistic “Under My Thumb” and “Out Of Time,” lovely “Lady Jane,” and exotic, roiling “Paint It Black.”
Then came the Stones classic late-’60s/early-’70s period between “Beggar’s Banquet” and “Exile On Main Street,” possibly the most productive run in rock history, when the Stones turned an unequaled alchemy of rock ‘n’ roll, blues and country into something dark, dangerous and enduringly deep.
The 1967 busts seemed to spur Jagger and Richards to another creative level, but Brian Jones appeared beaten and sinking fast. He was absent from the devilish, riff-rocking “Jumping Jack Flash” single. He barely worked on 1968’s exceptional, bluesy “Beggar’s Banquet” (seductive, percussive and stinging “Sympathy For the Devil,” guitar-pounding “Street Fighting Man,” slashing and sinful “Stray Cat Blues”), was out of the group by June ’69, and dead at the bottom of his swimming pool less than a month later.
Young Mick Taylor joined as Jones’s replacement, and his hefty bluesy leads were the perfect foil for Richards’ open-tuned rhythm work, and the sound and imagery grew darker and harder still on “Let it Bleed” (the sex and death apocalypse “Gimme Shelter,” Robert Johnson’s anguished blues “Love In Vain,” mysterious “Monkey Man,” the druggy camaraderie of the title track, powerful and murderous “Midnight Rambler,” and the oblique, uplifting coda “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”).
The band’s dance with the devil bore bitter fruit when they put on a free concert at Altamont Speedway outside San Francisco on December 6, 1969 (just three months after Woodstock) where a fan was stabbed to death in view of the stage by Hell’s Angels (all the mounting bad juju was captured for posterity in the film “Gimme Shelter”).
“Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out” (1970), one of the most satisfying live rock albums ever, focused on their ’68-’69 hits, including an extended, definitive “Midnight Rambler,” and showed how integral Mick Taylor had become to the Stones’ roaring live sound.
The band’s first release on their own Rolling Stones Records was the druggy, shambling, brilliant “Sticky Fingers” (1971), with the infamous working-zipper cover by Andy Warhol. Taylor again sparkled and the Jagger/Richards songwriting continued at the highest level: swaggering “Brown Sugar,” plaintive “Wild Horses,” jazzy grooving “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking,” horn-rocking “Bitch,” chilling “Sister Morphine” and countrified “Dead Flowers.”
The Stones have been a different band ever since: Mick Taylor left in 1974, replaced by the stalwart Ronnie Wood. They have released a couple great albums: “Some Girls” (1978), their rough response to the challenges of disco and punk (“Miss You,” “Some Girls,” “Respectable,” “Beast of Burden,” “Shattered”), and “Tattoo You” (1981, their top-charting album ever — nine weeks at No. 1) with standouts “Start Me Up,” “Hang Fire” and “Waiting On a Friend.” They have also released a lot of simply good albums: the ’70s were better than the ’80s, which were better than the ’90s.
But they have soldiered on, taking breaks but focusing more and more on getting the music out to the fans live, becoming particularly reinvigorated with the “Steel Wheels” album and world tour in 1989. I caught that tour in Los Angeles and the Stones came on with an air of eager assurance. All of the elements clicked: the guitars cut and slashed, the rhythm section locked in and rode it out, the songs were a perfect blending of old and new, the band was abundantly enthusiastic.
Jagger didn’t exhibit a drop of Cool Star attitude: he worked, talked, sang with energy and attention to detail. He was obviously happy to be liked again. The collective joyous relief of the stadium buoyed Jagger to childlike vulnerability:
“Do ya like the new songs?” he almost pleaded of the throng.
”We love them, Mick!”
”We love you!”
”Yeahh!”
Maybe Mick was reminded of his quote from the ’70s, “Sometimes I prefer being on stage, sometimes I prefer orgasm.” That night, I’m pretty sure the stage won.
In the 1990s, the band took in a staggering $750 million from three tours. When I watched them live from Madison Square Garden on HBO early last year my eyes confirmed that these craggy, gaunt guys are about 60 years old, but when the cameras pulled back 30 years melted away and the magic was real and grew in intensity as the night wore on.
What a great show! The Stones are a better band live now than they were in the ’70s when their lives, bodies and minds were a quagmire of sex, drugs and alcohol. Age has focused them, yet taken away very little of their maniacal energy, and Keith Richards is still the greatest rhythm guitarist who ever lived.
Long live rock ‘n’ roll — long live the Rolling Stones!
3. U2
Ireland’s U2 is the most important and influential band of the post-punk era, joining ringing guitar rock, punkish independence, Celtic spirituality, innovative production techniques and electronic experimentalism — all held together by singer/lyricist Bono’s transcendent vision and charisma.
U2 — Bono (Paul Hewson), guitarist the Edge (Dave Evans), bassist Adam Clayton and drummer Larry Mullen — formed in Dublin in 1976 as a Beatles and Stones cover band while the players were all still in high school. In 1980 they were signed to Island Records and released their spectacular first album, “Boy,” produced by Steve Lillywhite.
In preparation for 1984’s “The Unforgettable Fire,” producer Brian Eno had a long conversation with Bono, as he later told Q Magazine. “I said, ‘Look, if I work with you, I will want to change lots of things you do, because I’m not interested in records as a document of a rock band playing on stage, I’m more interested in painting pictures. I want to create a landscape within which this music happens.’ And Bono said, ‘Exactly, that’s what we want too.’”
The results of this fateful change of direction were Eno productions of U2 standards “The Unforgettable Fire” (including “Bad,” “Pride In the Name of Love”); Grammy’s 1987 Album of the Year, the personal yet universal “The Joshua Tree,” which made the band superstars (with “Where the Streets Have No Name,” “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” “With Or Without You” and “One Tree Hill”); 1991’s “Achtung Baby,” a brilliant and emotionally dark move toward electronica (“Even Better Than the Real Thing,” “One,” “Until the End of the World,” “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses” and “Mysterious Ways”); and “Zooropa,” deeper still into Euro-dance music and electronics (‘93, with the title track, “Numb,” “Lemon,” “Stay”). Wow, what a journey.
U2 was the leading rock band of the ’80s because its members, like perhaps only Bruce Springsteen in the U.S., still believed that rock ‘n’ roll could save the world, and they had the talent to make that notion not seem hopelessly naive.
This earnestness and willingness to shoulder the heaviest of responsibilities led to soaring heights of achievement and escalating psychic and artistic demands that eventually led the band to adopt irony as its basic means of expression for a time in the ’90s.
All bands want to be cool, and in the ’80s U2 almost single-handedly made earnestness cool, but it was hard, relentless work. After the gritty, chunky guitars-and-idealism of the ’80s, the ’90s saw the diaphanous chill of electronics-and-irony, which was literally and metaphorically cool, but ultimately not what the band is about.
“All That You Can’t Leave Behind” (‘00) returned to what the band isabout, and is the sonic and spiritual follow up to the “The Joshua Tree,” the band’s most idealistic, spiritual and melodically consistent album.
Remnants of the band’s forays into electronics seasoned the album (especially the impressionistic “New York”), but the Edge’s guitar returned to center stage where his unique, chiming style belongs, though it never upstages the songs, every one of which is blessed with a memorable tune.
Following the ecstatic release of the opening track “Beautiful Day,” the second song “Stuck In a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of,” states a seemingly modest but deeply profound, earnest and idealistic notion:
“I’m just trying to find a decent melody
A song I can sing in my own company”
They have found it and then some. U2 is now a mature, confident, still amazing band that knows it doesn’t have all the answers, but isn’t afraid to keep asking the right questions.
4. The Grateful Dead
Out on the road today/I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac/A little voice inside my head/Said ‘don’t look back, you can never look back.’ — Don Henley, “Boys of Summer”
When Henley wrote “The Boys of Summer’ in 1984, he saw the sticker on luxurious Detroit steel as a contradiction of values: a symbolic matter/antimatter collision that obliterated the meaning of both. But Henley didn’t realize that his symbol of a Dead past was in reality a very powerful symbol of the present and future.
The Vietnam War was the perfect polarizer between youth and adult culture: it had no clear objective, it was far away, it cost many lives, and it was involuntary — the old made the decisions, the young died. After the war was mercifully killed in the mid-’70s, the nation came to realize that it had hated the internal confusion more than it had hated the external enemy — blood is thicker than ideology.
The Dead became the symbol of this blending of ideologies until Jerry Garcia’s death in 1995: a well-oiled money making machine ($50 million a year in concert revenue) that sold peace, love and understanding to a legion of internally divided admirers. The Dead sold out every show because a Dead show was a socially acceptable place to temporarily take a break from the rat race and try on ’60s hippie values without having to live them. People who didn’t do drugs any other time indulged and danced around like pixies to the Dead and their light, rhythmic, pleasant, sometimes inspired, extended musical journeys.
On that musical front, Rhino’s “Very Best of the Grateful Dead” is an excellent representation of the band’s eclectic blending of country, folk, psychedelic rock, R&B, jazz and Afro-Caribbean rhythms on classics like “Friend of the Devil,” “Sugar Magnolia,” “Ripple,” “Truckin’,” “Uncle John’s Band,” “Casey Jones,” “Franklin’s Tower,” and their lone hit single “Touch of Grey.”
“Grateful Dead” (1971) is my favorite live set by the band — it rolls along with “Bertha,” “Mama Tried,” “Playing in the Band,” “Johnny B. Goode,” “Not Fade Away” and “Goin’ Down the Road Feeling Bad,” showing great energy and versatility.
The Dead’s success inspired the entire jam band movement, which carries on its musical and cultural lineage to this day.
5. Velvet Underground
Brian Eno has famously said that not many people bought the Velvet’s albums when they were originally released, but everyone who did formed a band. After bravely jousting the twin enemies of indifference and open hostility in its lifetime, the Velvet Underground has gradually been embraced as one of the best and most important bands in rock history.
The Velvet Underground formed in 1964 when singer/guitarist/songwriter Lou Reed and Welsh multi-instrumentalist John Cale met and decided to form a rock band (eventually with Sterling Morrison on bass and guitar and Maureen “Mo” Tucker on percussion), drawing upon their mutual interest in R&B, the free-form jazz of Albert Ayler and Ornette Coleman and the avant-garde minimalism of John Cage and La Monte Young.
The band sought not just to entertain, but to challenge, to prove that rock ‘n’ roll could be dangerous again. They gravitated toward Andy Warhol — who brought Austrian actress/model/chanteuse Nico into the fold — and became fixtures in Warhol’s multimedia organization, the Factory, and in the Village bohemian art scene.
Live, the Velvets were a bizarre amalgam of vigorous R&B, pretty pop songs, extended experimental noise jams and the performance art of Warhol’s Exploding Plastic Inevitable. The original band lasted just two albums, “The Velvet Underground and Nico,” and “White Light, White Heat” (both 1967), the first of which stands among the greatest of all rock albums.
“Waiting for the Man,” with a breezy rock groove, follows a Reed character in pursuit of drugs. Reed is almost giddy with self-contempt as his need for drugs drags his social status below that of ghetto dwellers, and that defiant self-contempt defines the Velvet’s status as the first post-modern band and the progenitor of the entire punk/new wave movement.
“Heroin” takes the external adventure of obtaining drugs into the internal realm and captures the seduction of addiction with a power, beauty and grace that makes it all the more frightening. “Venus in Furs,” an unblinking examination of an S&M relationship, conveys ennui of almost black hole density. “All Tomorrow’’s Parties” is Nico’s finest moment, a towering aural monument to ephemeral glamour, with the pulse of dread and Reed’s destabilizing frantic guitar.
Also on the record are two more pretty, Reed penned/Nico sung jewels, “I’ll Be Your Mirror” and “Femme Fatale,” and the loveliest song of Reed’s career, the preternatural “Sunday Morning,” which captures the hope and regret of a dawning Sunday with awe and delicacy.
The group’s remaining three albums produced several more gems in “White Light, White Heat,” “What Goes On,” “Beginning to See the Light,” “Pale Blue Eyes,” “Sweet Jane,” and “Rock and Roll,” all of which and more can be found in the highly recommended box set “Peel Slowly and See.”
6. Led Zeppelin
Over a 10-year, nine-album career from 1969-79, Led Zeppelin was the most popular rock group in the world, ultimately selling more than 50 million records in the U.S. alone (more than 200 million worldwide), developing the blues-based power trio-plus-lead singer archetype in many directions including mystical English folk-rock, Middle Eastern-influenced exotica, quirky pop and every manner of heaviness. They also came to symbolize the Dionysian excesses of the rock lifestyle.
Their ubiquity on classic rock radio formats and the aforementioned excesses have led many to dismiss the band as overrated and symptomatic of the decline of rock ‘n’ roll in the ’70s. The super value collection “Early Days and Latter Days: Best of Vols. 1 and 2” (two discs) prove that, if anything, the band’s musical greatness is still underappreciated, due to the previously mentioned resentments and the fact that the band had no greater cultural impact — they didn’t much stand for anything.
They were both wrong: “Led Zeppelin 1” (“Good Times Bad Times,” “Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You,” “Dazed and Confused,” “Communication Breakdown”), “Led Zeppelin 2” (“Whole Lotta Love,” “The Lemon Song,” “Hearbreaker,” “Living Loving Maid,” “Ramble On”) and “Led Zeppelin 4” (a.k.a. “Zoso,” with “Black Dog,” “Rock and Roll,” “When the Levee Breaks,” “Stairway to Heaven”) are among rock’s greatest albums.
Plant’s vocals reached levels of deranged ecstasy matched perhaps only by Little Richard on lyrics typically either oozing with sexuality or derived from Anglo-Saxon myth and/or the occult. Bonham (whose accidental death in 1980 broke up the band) pounded his drums relentlessly like a nimble elephant dancing through the house. Jones’s bass and strategic keyboards glued the disparate elements together. And Page, who did most of the writing and production, played some of the most fundamental and memorable guitar in rock history — from the heaviest crunch to the most delicate acoustic finger picking.
Proving the band’s vast enduring popularity, the band’s live two-DVD set “Led Zeppelin,” released last May, has sold more than 600,000 copies.
7. Ramones
The Ramones — Dee Dee (bass, vocals), Joey (vocals), Johnny (guitar), Tommy (drums, later replaced by Marky) — were the American punk band, an endless wellspring of noise, energy, attitude, humor and (sometimes forgotten) great songs, who helped reinvent rock ‘n’ roll when it needed it most in the mid-’70s.
Working for indie Sire Records in the mid-’70s, producer/talent scout Craig Leon became involved with the percolating New York underground music scene. One summer night in 1975 he went to CBGB’s and saw two bands, the Talking Heads and the Ramones.
“I went to that show and there were literally four people in the audience besides me, but the bands were phenomenal,” Leon said. “A lot of people didn’t even think the Ramones could make a record. There were weeks of preproduction on a very basic level: like when the songs started and when they ended. Their early sets were one long song until they ran out of steam or fought. You could see it as a performance art-type thing, where you had a 17-minute concise capsule of everything you ever knew about rock ‘n’ roll, or you could see it as 22 little songs,” he said. They went for the songs.
The Ramones’ first album (1976) is a roaring minimalist icon — the first real American punk record. Layers and layers of accumulated bloat and sheen were stripped away to reveal rock ‘n’ roll at its most basic and vital on songs like “Blitzkreig Bop,” “Beat On the Brat” and “Let’s Dance.” The Ramones’ sound was blazing early-’60s surf music played through the overdriven distortion of Blue Cheer and Black Sabbath. Yet, according to Leon, the Ramones saw themselves as a pop band. “In our naivete, we thought they were going to be bigger than the Beatles. They had even named themselves after Paul McCartney’s early stage name, ‘Paul Ramone,’” Leon said.
While most agree the Ramones’ astonishing first album — which cut through the competition like a 747 in a paper airplane contest — is their most important album, it isn’t my favorite. My favorite is one of the band’s most eccentric, “End of the Century” — produced by the enigmatic pop icon (and now murder suspect) Phil Spector — and the album that explicitly acknowledged such a thing as “pop punk” for the first time.
Recorded in 1979, the album made explicit the connection between early-’60s pop-rock and the punk band’s psyche, and holds up as both a Ramones and a Spector classic — Spector’s idiosyncrasies never overwhelm the roar of “Chinese Rock” or “Rock ‘N’ Roll High School,” and the Spectorish “Do You Remember Rock ‘N’ Roll Radio” rollicks with just the right retro touches. The band’s remake of the Ronette’s “Baby I Love You” is as touching as it is fun, and shed a whole new light on singer Joey Ramone (who died in 2002 after a long bout with cancer — I sure do miss that guy).
The two-CD set “Hey! Ho! Let’s Go” is a spectacular overview of the band, with all of the above songs (except “Baby I Love You”) plus “California Sun,” “Sheena Is a Punk Rocker,” “Cretin Hop,” “Rockaway Beach,” “Teenage Lobotomy,” “I Wanna Be Sedated,” “She’s the One,” “She’s a Sensation,” “We Want the Airwaves” and many, many more.
8. Pink Floyd
Pink Floyd is the most eccentric and experimental multi-platinum band of the album rock era, creating exceptional cinematic sound sculptures “Meddle,” “Dark Side of the Moon,” “Wish You Were Here,” and the band’s popular apex and conceptual death knell, “The Wall.”
Beginning in the mid-’60s as a R&B-based hard rock band, the band (named after Piedmont blues men Pink Anderson and Floyd Council) — Syd Barrett on guitar and vocals, Roger Waters on bass and vocals, Richard Wright on keyboards, and Nick Mason on drums — mutated quickly into a strange combination of twee British psychedelia (“See Emily Play,” “Arnold Layne”) and long-form instrumental space rock (“Astronomy Domine,” “Interstellar Overdrive”), inspired by Barrett’s liberal LSD use: a Cambridge English garden transported to Mars.
Guitarist David Gilmour joined the group as insurance against Barrett’s volatility in ’68, but when Barrett was forced out for unreliability his “backup band” became a democratic foursome sharing writing, singing and leadership duties. As Floyd headed more deeply into experimental symphonic explorations in the sonic chill of space — about as far removed from rock ‘n’ roll’s origins in amped-up American teenage hormones as possible — the more popular they became.
“Meddle,” released in 1971, was the band’s transition album from the Barrett-influenced ’60s to the Waters-Gilmour Floyd of the 1970s, highlighted by a pillar of space rock greatness “Echoes,” over 23 minutes of confidently creative meandering, ingratiating harmony vocals from Waters and Gilmour, burbling organ from Wright, atmospheric axemanship from the incomparable Gilmour, otherworldly pings and drifting whale noises. You can hear the fertile seeds of “Dark Side of the Moon” here.
“Dark Side,” released in ’73, stayed on the album chart for an outrageous 741 weeks, a masterpiece of creative studio craft and a remarkably unified exploration of time, greed and existence — the album is an indispensable rite of passage still. “Wish You Were Here” is an exceptional, ruminative, ambient, long-form look at the disintegration of Barrett intermingled with Roger Waters’ souring view of the world, and in particular, the music industry.
That dim view of life found its ultimate expression in “The Wall,” which used its title to represent literal and metaphoric isolation. In elaborate theatrical presentations of the work, a wall was physically constructed throughout the performance, the collapse of which at the end of each show neatly presaged the group’s fate. Waters went solo in the early-’80s and the group has reunited periodically without him, but neither the group nor he have ever been the same since.
9. Bob Marley and the Wailers
The greatest singer, songwriter, and cultural figure in Jamaican history, Bob Marley brought the righteous message and “positive vibrations” of reggae music to the world, and is the only towering figure of the rock era not from America or the U.K.
Marley was born in rural St. Ann’s Parish in 1945 to a middle-aged white father and a teen-aged black mother, and left home for the tough Trench Town slum of Kingston at 14 in order to pursue a life in music. There he became friends, and formed a vocal trio, with Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer. They called themselves the Wailing Wailers, later shortened to the Wailers. They worked within the prevailing musical styles of the time, first the buoyant up-tempo ska, then the slower sinuous rock steady, which then gave way to reggae.
The Wailers recorded with legendary producers Coxone Dodd and Lee “Scratch” Perry in the ’60s, recording great songs like “Simmer Down,” the original version of “One Love,” “Soul Rebel,” “Small Axe” and “Duppy Conqueror,” becoming greatly popular in Jamaica. But it was when the Wailers signed with Chris Blackwell’s Island Records in 1972 that their reach became global.
The Wailers’ first albums for Island, “Catch a Fire” and “Burnin’” (both ’73), became instant classics and introduced “Stir it Up,” “I Shot the Sheriff,” and Tosh’s “Get Up Stand Up” to the world. Tosh and Wailer then both left to pursue solo careers and the Wailers became Marley’s vehicle of expression. Until his tragic death from cancer at the age of 36 in 1981, Marley generated anthem after anthem and brought hope and pride to the Third World, in addition to touching hearts and moving feet across North America and Europe.
His hits collection covering the Island years, “Legend,” with sales of over 10 million copies in the U.S. alone, is the most popular and enduring reggae album of all time. Among its delights are “No Woman No Cry,” “Three Little Birds,” “One Love,” “Buffalo Soldier,” “Waiting In Vain” and “Jamming.”
10. Sly and the Family Stone
Sly and the Family Stone made some of the most buoyant and thoughtful music of the late-’60s and early-’70s, uniting and transforming black and white music at a time of highest hope and deepest betrayal in America. Leader Sly Stone personified both extremes, as the truest of believers and a victim of his own disillusionment.
It was on the band’s second LP, “Dance To The Music” (’68) that they really caught fire. The title song was a perfect representation of the live Family sound, a vibrant amalgam of positivity, fuzz bass, doo-wop, rock guitar and horns, gathered in the context of a traditional R&B revue.
The summer of ’69 found Sly and the Family Stone rising to the heights of popularity and critical acclaim on the wings of their phenomenal album “Stand!,” which included the band’s first No. 1 hit, “Everyday People,” a song that defined the band’s social ideals in the way that “Dance” defined its musical thoughts. The charm of the nursery rhyme refrain cuts through centuries of cultural bias and reminds us of the simple truth that “we got to live together” or die separately. Also on the album was the orgasmic “I Want to Take You Higher.”
That same summer, Sly and Family Stone stormed the stage at Woodstock in rainbow get-ups, flashing of sequins and electricity and came away superstars. If the attendees weren’t high enough, when Sly cried out “I Want to Take You Higher” at the end of the band’s set, many feel the festival — and an era — reached their frenzied peak.
Unfortunately, Sly took his obsession with “highness” literally and came to confuse the easy high of drugs with the more difficult highs of music, love and the joy of existence. With the drugs came increasing paranoia and self-absorption that were expressed first and best on 1971’s “There’s A Riot Goin’ On,” where lassitude replaced spunk but Sly’s incredible talent still shined through the murk. Drummer Errico left during the production and Sly further damaged the family feel by playing most of the instruments on the album himself, isolated in a cocaine cocoon. Ironically, “Riot” was the “band’s” only No. 1 album. The dream and the reality then both fell apart, but the music remains.
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I don’t think your google search does the debate much justice Jung. Opinions need to be backed up with detail and an assessment that can be evaluated and David Stewart does just that in his Quora response. And yes Tomás, some crap is published in Quora but the best is elevated to the top through the usual selection process, carefully monitored by all contributors. Quora has very strict guidelines for participation.
I also disagree with your belief that this Dave Stewart is a Troll looking for a fight as I think he gives a fair assessment of both groups and looks at the strengths of both. Just because the Beatles weren’t the greatest instrumentalists in the world doesn’t mean they can’t be the best group. Their forté was writing, singing, harmonising and improvising. I think you are being a little bit too sensitive as the reviewer was in no way trashing individual Beatles with his comparisons. Ringo’s playing style suited the Beatles and Charlie’s suited the Stones. Maybe you missed the Beatle positives in the review.
I totally understand where you are coming from with your reminder that it is a tactic to claim to be a fan, in order to give your argument more authenticity. If I can use a totally different analogy, Q: How can you pick a racist? A: they usually start a sentence with, I am not a racist, but ……..!
As for the comment “Ringo isn’t the Best drummer in The Beatles”, I’ll post a link to where this was previously discussed in the forum. Personally, I don’t like the idea of having to make a choice as there are occasions where each of these two groups is my favourite!
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Well said Tomás. You make some very pertinent points, especially about John Lennon. The “not even the best drummer in the Beatles” comment has been attributed to both him and Paul and was discussed very early in the club Forum. I will do some research and direct you to it. I believe it may have been a DJ who made the comment.
I also ignore those Internet comments suggesting Lennon was a bad person. Some people are purposely controversial for effect and hits. That’s how the commercial, capitalist world works sometimes.
However, there was a definite Beatles/Stones divide at my High School in the sixties, and as I have suggested, while the Beatles always had more universal appeal, and across generations at the time, the Rolling Stones had a more radical youth appeal.
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Yes Jung, the Beatles have always had more universal appeal and across generations. However, when I was a teenager, we were able to claim the Stones for ourselves as our parents were into the Beatles and didn’t dig the Stones, whom they had to lock up their daughters from! LOL!
The Stones have always been able to put on a top live show and are still doing it, right around the world, so that little 7 year old is probably now more likely to recognise an iconic Stones tune over a Beatles one!
Hopefully that 7 year old from Timbuktu recognises a MLT cover of a Beatles song than any Stones song though!
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For balance, the following is a contribution from Charles Simms, A fanatical Beatles fan, scholar and musician. Updated Jul 14, 2018.
“For me, there are two factors above all that establish The Beatles as superior to every other artist. First, quality. Nearly every aspect of The Beatles catalogue represents quality. The vocals are peerless. As one obvious observation, The Beatles possessed a three-part harmony that The Stones could never approach. Lennon and McCartney are two of the greatest rock vocalists in history. Either one could assay shredding rock (Twist and Shout for John, Long Tall Sally for Paul) or poignant ballads.
Another aspect of quality was The Beatles were blessed with a production team that was sympathetic and innovative. Their early records possess clarity, and with each release, they set the standards for others to aspire to.
Most importantly, the quality of their songwriting offers a depth few could ever rival. There is virtually no ‘B’ material. Songs as memorable and iconic as Nowhere Man, And I Love Her, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away… all album tracks. For most artists, those would be the single they’d be remembered for.
Which suggests the other factor in The Beatles dominance: variety. There’s no single template for a Beatles record. You can’t reduce their career to a single hit or two repeated ad infinitum. From the heady rush and energy of She Loves You (with that surprising three-part harmony finish where George’s resolves on a sixth) to the throwdown recklessness of Helter Skelter, the startling austere beauty of Blackbird to the thundering psychedelic masterpiece of Tomorrow Never Knows, the lilting harmony warmth of Because to the sly rock of Get Back, the pop perfection of Here Comes the Sun to the ultimate distillation and high watermark of the British Invasion with I Feel Fine, the crashing metallic ring and world-weary vocal of Ticket to Ride, the singalong majesty of Hey Jude… The Beatles catalogue has depth and breadth. There is virtually no repetition, and every single and album progressed.
I love The Stones, but their early catalogue is often inferior versions of R&B songs, and even when they did release a double album very little of it strays from their roots. There are no Stones records that are consistent from first to last cut until Beggars Banquet. They had a dominant vocalist who is a dynamic frontman and talented writer, but in comparison to Lennon and McCartney has significant vocal limitations. The Stones have some of the most durable rock classics in history and a particularly creative period from ‘65-’71. But from 1963 to 2018, the Stones haven’t really strayed far from covering Chuck Berry songs.
Why are The Beatles the greatest? Quality and variety. As much as I love The Stones, there’s a clear winner for me.”
I personally have issues with some of this assessment. In particular Simms’ contention – “But from 1963 to 2018, the Stones haven’t really strayed far from covering Chuck Berry songs”. This is definitely not true, as from late 1965 through to late 1967, the Stones produced some of their most innovative and creative music with their albums “Aftermath”, “Between the Buttons”, “Flowers” and “Their Satanic Majesties Request”. Along with the songwriting creativity of Jagger/Richards, their music of this era was greatly enhanced by the instrumental diversity of Brian Jones during this, their classic pop period.
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Yes, David, music appreciation usually comes down to personal preferences, which are mainly based on subjective values and likes. I don’t mind these comparisons as long as we don’t take them too seriously. For me personally, I prefer not to have to make a choice as these are my two favourite bands (apart from MLT of course), and sometimes I prefer the Beatles and sometimes I prefer the Stones. It all depends entirely on my mood at any given time and also the environmental atmosphere.
I grew up listening to the Rolling Stones (older brothers), but the first new album I purchased was by the Beatles. I could not afford to buy albums before “Sgt. Peppers” came out and I had to make a special effort to purchase this album in 1967.
Early on in this club, a couple of members attempted to start a comparison between the MonaLisa Twins but were quickly censored by other members, including myself. That was a comparison we believed added no value to the club and was basically pointless. I expect you would have gathered by now that there is much love in this club for both twins, equally!
By the way, the comparison in my original post is not mine.
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For those of you interested in the Rolling Stones “Ruby Tuesday”, it is unusual for a number of reasons.
For a start, Mick Jagger wasn’t included in the writing of this song. It was written by Keith Richards who had just been dumped by his girlfriend, Linda Keith. Brian Jones helped with the music but the song was credited to Jagger/Richards kike all Stones songs were, much like all songs written by Lennon and/or McCartney were attributed to Lennon/McCartney. In a similar way, all MLT songs are credited to MLT, irrespective of who the main contributor is. Theirs is a truly collaborative effort.
An unusual aspect of the Stones. performance of “Ruby Tuesday” live on the Ed Sullivan show on January 15, 1967, is Bill Wyman swapping his electric bass for acoustic double bass, played with a bow, Keith Richards swapping his guitar for a piano and Brian Jones ditching his guitar for a recorder.
I can definitely see a cover of this with Mona dusting off her flute, or trying the recorder (I’m sure you could really get into your drumming here too Mona), Lisa on acoustic double bass with a bow (I know you could do it, Lisa), and the maestro himself, Mr. Wagner tinkling the ivories. Now, just how good would that be! Not sure who should handle the lead vocals, but I’m sure Mona and Lisa could work that out as usual. Any suggestions? I don’t expect them to attempt the Jagger dance moves! Do yourself a favour, check out this video.
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Hi David. ‘Ruby Tuesday’ was released on January 1967 and was a double ‘A’ side with ‘Let’s Spend The Night Together’ on the other side. Barry and twins Maurice and Robin had been around forever, as they started out playing together as The Bee Gees in 1958 when they were children. Their first major hit, ‘Spicks and Specks’ was released in 1966 and the Bee Gees left Australia for London on January 4, 1967.
“Spicks and Specks” was followed up in quick succession with “New York Mining Disaster 1941,” (April 1967), To Love Somebody,” (June 1967) and “Massachusetts”(September 1967). And the rest, as they say, is history.
As for “Ruby Tuesday”, I’d love The MLT to do a cover of this song. Please, please me, Mona and Lisa!
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Hi Jung. Got to say I think this rivalry is a particularly American thing as in the sixties when I was in High School, the rivalry was between Beatles fans and Rolling Stones fans. The Beach Boys were rarely an issue for us. The rivalry was specifically between the fans as the members of the two groups were actually on friendly terms. It was the Stones manager, Andrew Loog Oldham, who fostered the rivalry as a way of maximising publicity for his major signing.
Oldham encouraged the Stones’ ‘bad boy’ image as he couldn’t see them competing with Beatlemania and the Beatles’ wholesome family image. For me, when I was a schoolboy, you were either a ‘middle-class’ Beatle or a ‘working-class’ Stone! You couldn’t be both, well not publically anyway. So for me and my brothers, it had to be the Rolling Stones, even though my best friend was a Beatles fan (and Simon and Garfunkle). As he was a well to do middle-class kid, I became dependant on purchasing half-price, second-hand records from him. It wasn’t until the early seventies that I was able to ‘come out’ as a Beatles fan (and John Lennon in particular after the release of “John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band” in 1970 and “Imagine”, released in 1971).
For me, there was no comparison between the quality of Beach Boys albums (heavily dependant on Brian Wilson’s input) with that of what I have always felt to be the superior Beatles and Rolling Stones albums during the sixties. In particular, from when they were writing most of their own material. I also believe that the Beatles and the Stones were far superior bands (to most bands) when it came to live playing.
I know this is my personal taste and not everyone will agree. I intend to post a “Sgt Peppers” vs “Pet Sounds” analogy (metaphorically) at a later date. Yes, there may have been some rivalry between Wilson and McCartney when it came to songwriting, but this was all over by 1967.
