When my son was a teenager, he had a friend who wanted to start a band. Not a very original story, I know. But I thought his idea for the title of the band’s first album was clever. He wanted to call it Greatest Hits.
I have come to learn that this idea isn’t particularly original either. Remo Drive is the last band I know of to entitle their debut album Greatest Hits. Reggie and the Full Effect called their first Greatest Hits 1984-1987, which does coincide with when they began, though “hits’ may be a bit of a stretch. Umphrey’s McGee went one better by calling their first album Greatest Hits Vol III.
Today we’re looking at misleading album titles. Not simply bizarre ones. Not Yankee Hotel Foxtrot or Brain Salad Surgery – titles that don’t really make any promises. No – we’re looking for titles that do, in fact, make an implicit promise. It turns out to be a promise that the band has no intention of keeping. The title is deliberately misleading.
These six album titles were extremely misleading
There may be a reason for it or it may simply be a goof. Usually, it’s an inside joke. Or it could be a crass cash grab. There will be one of those included in what follows.
I will exclude one category. Let’s call it the “Houses of the Holy” phenomenon. That applies to an album named for a song that does not actually appear on said album. As you no doubt are aware, Led Zeppelin called their fifth album Houses of the Holy, even though the song of the same name did not appear until the follow-up, Physical Graffiti, a couple of years later.
Though this is not true of the Zeppelin album, such confusion often stems from the success of a single that may be included on a new release of the album, causing the album name to change in reissue. That single may not be on the original release, which can cause confusion. I know it does for me.
But we don’t need those kinds of albums. We’ve got six pretty good ones without them. In chronological order…
Best of the Beatles by The Pete Best Combo, 1966
This may not be the best album on the list, but it is hands-down the most audacious. Pete Best was the original drummer of the Beatles. After he was replaced by Ringo Starr, he formed a trio with bassist Wayne Bickerton and guitarist/vocalist Tony Waddington. They released an album in 1966 designed to capitalize on the roaring success of Best’s former mates.
Not only was the title deliberately misleading, but the cover art was a photo of the Beatles from 1961 when they were playing extensively in Hamburg. Best is standing off to the left. The others pictured are certainly not Waddington and Bickerton. They are George, John, Paul, and Stu Sutcliffe. Best’s face is circled, which is the only hint a buyer would have upon seeing that cover that this is not some early collection of hits from the Beatles themselves.
I have never heard the album. It’s very hard to find these days. It’s almost impossible to find info on the label that released it, Savage Records. We know the track listing – a collection of originals from the Waddington/Bickerton songwriting team (they clearly had talent – the pair were awarded the Ivor Novello songwriting award a decade after Best of the Beatles), and covers.
They do one song that the Beatles used to play when Best was with them – “Some Other Guy.” According to music historian Matthew North, who offers a very informative analysis of the rarity on his excellent Matthew North Music channel, the album itself is, well, OK. But it’s not a Beatles album. A far, far cry.
The Last Record Album by Little Feat, 1975
Time Loves a Hero, Little Feat’s sixth studio release, came out in April 1977. And with that, the title of their fifth album, released two years, earlier, became a bit of a fib. By 1975, the band founded by Lowell George had achieved massive acclaim from music critics and a loyal following of fans. Their unique brand of jazz, blues, funk, and country never became top-of-the-charts successful, but they were beloved for their expert craft and explosive live performances.
By the time of The Last Record Album, Feat had evolved into a much more democratic ensemble. George was still at the center, but fellow guitarist Paul Barrere, bass player Kenny Gradney, and keyboardist Bill Payne were all assuming a more obvious presence as the band drifted further into jazz excursions.
That is obvious on great tracks like the breezy, slinky groove of “All That You Dream” (penned by Barrere and Payne, and with a vocal assist from Linda Ronstadt) and George’s lovely “Long Distance Love.” It can, however, lead to some free-flowing jams that wander a bit. The closing track, “Mercenary Territory,” manages both being a fine song and a bit of a meandering navel gaze.
George would continue to sing and play his slide guitar on the next few albums, but his imprint via songwriting would shrink. Time Loves a Hero and Down on the Farm, the two other studio releases he worked on before his death in 1979, had some highlights but were not as consistently strong as their earlier work. In that sense, perhaps the album title is not completely meaningless. Though, truth be told, Little Feat’s fifth album was already signaling a decline from the lofty heights they achieved early in the decade.
20 Jazz Funk Greats by Throbbing Gristle, 1979
I suppose there’s something that could pass for experimental jazz in the opening sounds of the British industrial rocker's third studio release. The title track kind of wanders all about with synths playing above a drum machine beat, while vocalist Genesis P-Orridge (not their real name), whispers words like “jazz” a few times underneath. The haunting bit of noise that follows – “Beachy Head” – makes no such pretense. It’s industrial all the way.
If you squint your ears, “Still Walking” may flirt with funk, but it doesn’t take long to conclude that there is little remotely related to either jazz or funk on this album. If anything, it dabbles in disco, which would make it very much of its time. But it is a disco that stretches things so far as to make you take a backward glance at what dance music is and can be.
It is the stuff of robotics – never more clear than on “Hot on the Heels of Love,” with more whispered vocals, this time from Cosey Fanni Tutti (not her real name.) “Persuasion,” which follows it, maybe the closest thing Throbbing Gristle has to an identifiable song. And it needs to be heard – it’s monotone lead vocal and screeching backing voices, all over the simplest, slowest bassline in rock & roll.
Oh yeah, and the original 20 Jazz Funk Greats had 11 tracks. Throbbing Gristle would last a few more years before they would split in two, with Cosey taking Chris Carter to form the electronic dance band Chris & Cosey, while Gen and Peter Christopherson morphed into wildly experimental Psychic TV.
Live at the Witch Trials by The Fall, 1979
The Fall had been gathering a loyal cultish following in the late ‘70s playing their post-garage rock, fronted by Mark E. Smith. He was something of a British Lou Reed, and the very first track, “Frightened” had a lot of the same driven simplicity that characterized early Velvet Underground.
The thing is, though, it is not a live album. It makes no pretense at being a live album, beyond the title. And it’s entirely possible – perhaps even likely – that no one thought that this title would imply otherwise. They are singing about modern, urban malady and in a very real sense, their depiction of industrial cities in the late 1970s shares the similar spiritual decay that infected witch trials throughout human history.
It seems to me that the title is meant to suggest giving us a front-row seat for today’s version of such decay. And as such, the album is excellent.
Tracks like “Industrial Estate” and the punkish “Psycho Mafia” have undeniable power. “Rebellious Jukebox” and “No Xmas for John Quays” have great gothic drives. It’s a fine album. It’s just not a live album.
The Traveling Wilburys, Vol 3 by The Traveling Wilburys, 1990
I come to praise, not to bury. So if you are one of those cretins who finds this album an abomination – and I know there are some who do – you may want to skip ahead. The supergroup’s second album – hence the misleading title – is not as good as their debut, The Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 1. The gimmick was already wearing thin, and most importantly, original member Roy Orbison had died between the first and second album. His voice is missed.
But “She’s My Baby” rocks. Bob Dylan’s “If You Belonged to Me” has his standard-issue blend of dark and light. “7 Deadly Sins” and “Poor House” are lots of fun. I love Tom Petty’s Dylanesque “Cool Dry Place,” but I have met those who run screaming when they hear it. But no one can not like the full-band creations “The Devil’s Been Busy” and the supremely silly, but still rousing “Wilbury Twist.”
I have read that the title derives from the fact that Petty’s first solo album, Full Moon Fever, was recorded between Vols 1 & 3. It was produced by fellow Wilbury Jeff Lynne, who plays on all tracks. George Harrison and Roy Orbison also make appearances, thus making Full Moon Fever an informal second Wilbury album. Maybe. I just think they were having a laugh.
File Under: Easy Listening by Sugar, 1994
Seminal post-hardcore punk band Husker Du broke up in the late ‘80s, and guitarist Bob Mould tried on a bunch of other set-ups to continue his recording career. One of them was Sugar, the short-lived band he formed with bass player David Barbe and drummer Malcolm Travis. They released Copper Blue in 1992, an EP the following year, and then their final full album, File Under: Easy Listening.
Anyone familiar with Mould knows that the title can’t be taken too literally. He didn’t really do easy listening. Maybe it was a nod toward the more melodic nature of the material when contrasted with the Beaster EP that preceded it. That’s as good an explanation as I can come up with. But the minute the needle drops on the fuzzed-out guitar of “Gift,” anyone who was looking for an easy listening experience is going to be disappointed.
That doesn’t mean Sugar’s final album is filled with noise. “Your Favorite Thing” is quality pop-rock, as is “Gee Angel," just with a bit more edge. “Panama City Motel” is almost jangly, while “Believe What You’re Saying” has a delicacy about it. It is not easy, but rock and roll is the more pleasant side of the spectrum.
Mould has said he was becoming less and less enamored with screeching solos and was tilting more toward a clean pop-rock sound. You’d still have to be grading on a curve – with boundaries set by Husker Du – to qualify this as easy listening. But it is just a very solid collection of rock songs, some a bit harder and some a bit softer, crafted by one of the better songwriters of the 1980s post-punk uprising.
I recognize that these albums are all at least thirty years old. So, in a nod toward modern times, I will end by noting that Clever Girl’s 2018 EP No Drums and Bass in the Jazz Room has plenty of drums and bass, though I suppose it is somewhat jazzier than Throbbing Gristle.