Capsule review: Hakan Hellström - Ett kolikbarns bekännelser (2005)

There's something alien about great pop, but to go so far as to sing it in Klingon. Actually Swedish.
This is Hellström's reflective, acoustic album. Think expansive folk-and-tropicalia blend, rather than Nebraska. A joy and his best.

Capsule review: Impressions - This is my country (1968)

We'd need a Curtis Mayfield now.
No record has an ending as triumphant as This Is My Country's title track. Makes you feel you've made it through. It's a record of hope.
But we're still going.

Capsule review: Paul Bryan - Listen of Paul Bryan (1973)

Hey you, listen of!
A soft rock classic on a bed of bossa nova from charmingly lisping Brazilian bedsit pianist. Early '70s gold.

Capsule review: Black bananas - Rad times xpress IV (2012)

Royal Trux gone Funkadelic. Thrilling when it works ('Rad times'), just confusing when it doesn't. Surely not everything needs to sound like the bottom of a fishtank.

Capsule review: Beatles - Revolver (1966)

Stoned moptops giggling reach platonic ideal. Still baffling.
That by today's standards it sounds somewhat impersonal, only shows how far we've slid down the path of self absorption. This is an adventure story.

Capsule review: Kevin Ayers - That's what you get (1980)

Screw Piketty. Ayers told us all we needed to know back in 1980. 'Ooh, money, money, money / where does it go / it always goes back to the rich'. The record only revs up on side 2 when Kevin takes on the world of commerce (again). First side's ruminations on mid-life crisis love ('There are no guarantees') sound kinda desperate. Must be all the Carribean rhythms.

Capsule review: Shirley Collins and the Albion Country band - No roses (1971)

The past is another country. Medieval Albion. London folkies in the early '70s. I can't make heads or tails if this is about ancient court life or about hippie student housing. But I'd sure like to visit.

Capsule review: Flying burrito brothers - Gilded palace of sin (1969)

Chris Hillman and Gram Parsons' shining hour. They pedal steel through country originals, pay tribute to Dan Penn and do some affecting gospel pastiche. They also do quaint hippie Vietnam stuff at the end of both LP sides, but let's forgive 'em. Sneaky Pete shines, harmony singing like brothers separated at birth, and songwriting so out of this world they didn't have names for it yet ('Hot burrito #1', 'Hot burrito #2'). Cosmic, they called it. Weird name for something so human.