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From the critic
who brought you the rock bottom, here's TOP ROCK Copyright 1992 The Houston Chronicle Publishing Company
In "Best," Guterman lists and explains his 100 favorite rock albums, including selected blues and country releases. As he admits in the introduction, "It's more difficult writing about records you love than records you detest. Humor isn't as effective a critical weapon and it's even more important to focus on the work and not its accoutrements." That difficulty is readily apparent here. "Worst" is a better book, not only for its choices but also for its incisive, sometimes savage criticism. On the other hand, "Best" will provoke passion and stimulate disagreement. In fact, this critic has compiled his own retaliatory scorecard -- acknowledging, as does Guterman, that a list of favorite rock albums of all time could accommodate 500, even 5,000 entries. On the first pitch of the game, there's a problem. Guterman's No. 1 selection is Rod Stewart's "Every Picture Tells a Story." The title track is a classic, a bawdy, hook-filled rocker sung with that raspy soul. But it's hardly enough to carry an album, even with "Maggie May" on it, to that much glory. The Rolling Stones' "Exile on Main Street," Guterman's No. 2, is a more likely candidate for best rock album ever. It represents the mythological crossroads, originating in country blues, where virtue (rock innocence) and the devil (post-Altamont and the beginning of the Me Generation) vie for ownership of the soul. Elsewhere, Guterman pads his list with compilations and latter-day boxed sets that include the best from the greats -- Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, the Drifters, Temptations, Chuck Berry and others. It is his method of including "one" entry for a seminal artist. A more genuine, if difficult, approach would be to include only albums that were marketed as such at the time of their release. Some of Guterman's choices are curious, including Jimi Hendrix' "Radio One" (instead of "Are You Experienced?"); Jason & The Scorchers' "Fervor" (better choice: "Lost and Found"); Hank Williams Jr.'s "Hank Williams Jr. & Friends" (versus any number of superior candidates); Graham Parker's "Heat Treatment" (Squeezing Out Sparks); Michael Jackson's "Off The Wall" (Thriller); the Blasters' "Hard Line" (American Music); the Who's "Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy" (Live at Leeds); and X's "See How We Are" (Live at the Whisky A-Go-Go). The author also uses up space with a movie soundtrack and comedy album, and gives undue attention to early Motown. Though undisputably germane to rock development, early Motown has proven to be a largely isolated era that filled the void between the original rebel rousers and the beginning of the British Invasion. Also, Guterman opens a Pandora's box by including selected jazz, blues and country artists. Why, for instance, is Etta James' "Tell Mama" a "rock" record, while those by Dinah Washington or Billie Holiday are not? Why is B.B. King ("Live at the Regal") a "rock" artist while Robert Johnson, Albert King, Elmore James, Muddy Waters and other titans who so influenced '60s rock guitarists are omitted? A case can be made for Dwight Yoakam (Just Lookin' For a Hit), who was so traditionally honky-tonk country that he was forced to go for the alternative rock audience before getting a nod from Nashville. But, generationally, it's a leap to include Merle Haggard ("A Tribute to the Best Damn Fiddle Player in the World") and Charlie Rich ("Original Hits and Midnight Demos"). Ultimately, Guterman appears to have succumbed to political correctness -- the very trap he accuses rock critics of falling into. "I'm still troubled by the polite, enthusiasm-free 'Zeitgeist' so common in writing about pop music," he says. "Even if a critic says he or she likes a record, it's hard to know if the record prompted any enjoyment, or any reaction at all." But correctness is what he seems to engage in on his Top 100. Virtually every type of music that could be remotely labeled rock has at least one representative here. Where Guterman gleefully displayed his prejudices in "Worst Records," he, too, now appears "polite." For critics, that's the No. 1, or No. 2, sin of all time. Marty Racine's top picks 1. "Exile on Main Street,''
Rolling Stones, 1972 "Best R&R Records of All Time' 1. "Every Picture Tells
a Story,'' Rod Stewart, 1971
©
1992-2001 The Houston Chronicle
Publishing Company
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