Beck, Bogert & Appice is the eponymous debut album by the 1970s band Beck, Bogert & Appice. They were a supergroup and power trio, with the line up of guitarist Jeff Beck (who had already been a member of The Yardbirds and The Jeff Beck Group), bassist Tim Bogert, and drummer Carmine Appice (both formerly members of Vanilla Fudge and Cactus). The album had solid sales in 1973. One of the most notable tracks is Beck's version of the famous song of Stevie Wonder's and his creation: "Superstition". This was the band's only studio album, as Beck left the band without warning during the recording of their second album, forcing a sudden dissolution in 1974.

Banco del Mutuo Soccorso's third LP, Io Sono Nato Libero, was released only a few months after the impressive Darwin!, and featured the same lineup (brothers Vittorio and Gianni Nocenzi on keyboards, Rodolfo Maltese on guitar, Pierluigi Calderoni on drums, Renato d'Angelo on bass, and Francesco Di Giacomo on vocals). It yielded one classic track, "Non Mi Rompete," a beautiful Italian ballad that would be part of the band's set list for the rest of its life. Another important track is "Traccia II," which develops the musical idea found at the end of the 1971 LP Banco del Mutuo Soccorso. Music history may have preserved these two pieces, but the real point of interest on Io Sono Nato Libero is the 15-minute opus "Canto Nomade per un Prigioniero Politico," a complex and very moving piece (the title translates to "Nomad Song for a Political Prisoner")…

Mason Proffit's second major-label album and fifth album overall was similar in construction to its predecessor, Rockfish Crossing. Once again, the Talbot brothers and their supporting players turned in a combination of effective originals that touched on subjects from romance to politics with some enthusiastically performed country covers, notably a version of "Setting the Woods on Fire" that sounded like a deliberate attempt to impersonate Jerry Lee Lewis and featured a furious kazoo solo. The political element came out in "Black September/Belfast," with its reflections on Northern Ireland and Vietnam. You'd have thought that music this impressive could get a hearing, but Mason Proffit appeared at a time when music fans were more polarized than musicians, not only by music but by politics and culture…

Group from Bergen (province of North Holland). Active in the period from 1972 to 1974. The initiators of the group were brothers and Gustaaf Onno Verburg. Having signed a contract with Ariola Records, in 1972, they released their first single, "Blue Sofa / Orphan Girl". The following year, they released their self-titled album. All songs, except one, were written Gustaaf Verburg and Ide Min. After its publication it turned out that the group has composed one of the best albums of the Dutch-style progressive folk. The musical palette were used beautiful instrumental passages of acoustic guitar, violin, flute and piano. And doubtless ornament of the album was a strong and expressive vocals Maarten Min. Unfortunately, the mess in the future began to change trains. After releasing a few more singles, Mayfly disappeared from the musical horizon.

Still Alive and Well proved to the record-buying public that Johnny Winter was both. This is a truly enjoyable album, chock-full of great tunes played well. Johnny's version of the Rolling Stones' "Silver Train" revealed the potential of this song and what the Stones failed to capture. Everything here is good, so get it and dig in.

The British band Fantasy released two albums in the early '70s of predominantly pastoral progressive rock. Originally called FireQueen, the group was comprised of Paul Lawrence (vocals, guitar), David Metcalfe (keyboards), and Dave Read (bass). Their first album was Paint a Picture (1973), a mellow and imaginative collection of song-based material that featured a heavy use of acoustic guitars, Hammond organs, and pianos. In 1974, the band recorded Beyond the Beyond, which was not released until 1992. The album saw the group expanding their sound into more quintessential progressive material while remaining true to the pastoral sound of their debut.

Like any patchy but promising debut from a classic rock group, it's often easy to underrate Queen's eponymous 1973 debut, since it has no more than one well-known anthem and plays more like a collection of ideas than a cohesive album. But what ideas! Almost every one of Queen's signatures are already present, from Freddie Mercury's operatic harmonies to Brian May's rich, orchestral guitar overdubs and the suite-like structures of "Great King Rat." That rich, florid feel could be characterized as glam, but even in these early days that appellation didn't quite fit Queen, since they were at once too heavy and arty to be glam and – ironically enough, considering their legendary excess – they were hardly trashy enough to be glam.

April Lawton's short rock & roll moment in the sun takes a better turn on Ramatam's second attempt, In April Came the Dawning of the Red Suns. Acoustic ramblings like "Excerpt From Guitar Concerto #1," where she plays solo for 44 seconds, are more inviting than much of what was on the group's self titled debut. Since her prowess was a big part of the hype, why those introspective glimpses weren't extended is the mystery. There's also a pretty interlude, "Rainy Sunday Evening," which comes between two awful moments on side one, "Betty Lou" and "I Can Only Love You," proving the previous point.

An intricate, deliberately idiosyncratic record, assembled piece by piece, Boulders perfectly captures Roy Wood's peculiar genius, more so than anything else he recorded. All of his obsessions are here – classical music, psychedelia, pre-Beatles pop, pastoral folk ballads, absurdist humor, studio trickery, and good old-fashioned rock & roll – assembled in a gracefully eccentric fashion. Some listeners may find that eccentricity a little alienating, but it's the core of Wood's music. He wrote tuneful, accessible songs, but indulged his passions and weird ideas, so even the loveliest melodies and catchiest hooks are dressed in colorful, odd arrangements.

When Gato Barbieri signed to Impulse! Records in 1973 for a series of critically lauded albums, he had already enjoyed a celebrated career as a vanguard musician who had worked with Don Cherry and Abdullah Ibrahim (then known as Dollar Brand), recorded for three labels as a leader, and scored and performed the soundtrack to director Bernardo Bertolucci's film Last Tango in Paris. Chapter One: Latin America was a huge step forward musically for the Argentinean-born saxophonist, even as it looked to the music of his heritage. This turned out to be the first of four chapters in his series on Latin America, and for it he teamed not with established jazz musicians, but instead folk and traditional musicians from his native country, and recorded four of the album's five cuts in Buenos Aires - the final track, a multi-tracked solo piece, was recorded in Rio de Janeiro…

In retrospect, it's a bit shocking how fully formed the signature Aerosmith sound was on their self-titled 1973 debut – which may not be the same thing as best-executed, because this album still sounds like a first album, complete with the typical stumbles and haziness that comes with a debut. Despite all this, Aerosmith clearly showcases all the attributes of the band that would become the defining American hard rock band of the '70s. Here, the Stones influences are readily apparent, from the Jagger-esque phrasing of Steven Tyler to the group's high-octane boogie, but the group displays little of the Stones' deep love of blues here.