1963: Thunder ‘N Lightning by Hoyt Axton
By 1963, the writing was on the wall. A storm was coming from across the pond. But the music of 1963 was still electric surf music coming from the Ventures, the Surfaris, and Dick Dale. And of course, the Beach Boys. But I'm stepping outside the zone just a bit to make the case that the country blues coming from Oklahoma’s Hoyt Axton was better than all over it.
Talk about a storm – the title track positively throbs with rock and blues energy. Later, he offers a once-and-future classic “Midnight Special,” bridging Lead Belly with CCR. He does the same with “This Little Light of Mine,” bringing Sister Rosetta Tharpe to a whole new audience with his own hard-rocking version.
Toward the end, his ode to “Cocaine” would further join traditional blues with modern rock. Axton would go on to write plenty of classic rockers for others, but he is well worth checking out on his own.
1964: St. Louis to Liverpool by Chuck Berry
Had I been writing about the greatest rock albums of the 1950s, it would basically just be Chuck Berry’s discography. The albums of the early ‘60s were still outstanding, but he was being overshadowed – something that is still happening to one of the genre’s inventors to this day. He roared again in 1964.
The title clearly references the new impulses coming from England, but this is pure American rocking blues at its very best. Berry wrote most of the songs, and the album contains classics such as “No Particular Place to Go,” “You Never Can Tell,” and “Promised Land,” a tune borrowed from “Wabash Cannonball.” Berry borrowed – often from himself – but no one was more important in the formation of the genre.
Extra bite: 1964: People by Barbara Streisand
I can’t make the case that there is anything remotely rock & roll about Barbara Streisand’s fourth album. It is pure pop from one of the best voices of the decade. But Streisand’s blend of casual delivery with supreme vocal chops would influence a lot of later rock singers, both women and men.
You don’t get to Beyonce or Adele or Gaga without passing through Babs.
1965: Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan
If not the most important album of the decade, Dylan’s full-scale embrace of rock instrumentation is on the very short list. And forget the significance – the insertion of folk-based social consciousness into hard-edged rock and roll – and just consider the collection of songs.
Nine explosive tunes that range from the merely great “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry” to the spectacular title track, complete with slide whistle. There are few rockers as mysterious and haunting as “Ballad of a Thin Man,” and few feature storytelling on a par with the border-tinged “Desolation Row.”
Any of Dylan’s mid-decade albums could have been on this list, and his greatest was still a decade away, but this has always been a favorite.
1966: Revolver by the Beatles
I’ll admit something here that invariably gets me in trouble. I don’t especially like three beloved Paul McCartney tunes on Revolver – “Here, There and Everywhere,” “Good Day Sunshine,” and ”Got to Get You Into My Life.” I’m not saying they are bad songs. They’re just not my thing.
The fact that I choose Revolver over Rubber Soul, Sgt Pepper, The Beatles, and Abbey Road as their greatest achievement ought to tell you just what I think of the rest of the album. McCartney is at his absolute peak on “Eleanor Rigby” and “For No One.”
John does five stone cold killers. George opens things up with the blistering “Taxman,” in addition to a couple of other gems. And Ringo gets his greatest song, “Yellow Submarine.” Those tracks I don’t care for simply add to the extraordinary breadth of one of the greatest rock and roll albums ever crafted.
Extra bite: 1966: Sinatra at the Sands by Frank Sinatra
By the mid-‘60s, rock and roll was clearly the dominant player in modern music. But there were still plenty of holdovers from an earlier era. Frank Sinatra was still a massive name, but there was the unspoken notion that he was simply a glorious relic. Then he stood out in front of Count Basie’s orchestra and delivered a live recording that reaffirmed Frank was still a force – a modern force.
The man who did more to instruct vocalists of the rock era on how to deliver a song is at his zenith. 21 tracks, including classics like “Come Fly With Me,” “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” “Fly Me to the Moon,” and “One for My Baby (and One More for the Road).” And that’s just the first of two discs.
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