Peter Green is an English blues rock singer-songwriter and guitarist. As a co-founder of Fleetwood Mac, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1998. Green's songs, such as "Albatross", "Black Magic Woman", "Oh Well", "The Green Manalishi (With the Two Prong Crown)" and "Man of the World", appeared on singles charts, and several have been adapted by a variety of musicians. Green was a major figure in the "second great epoch" of the British blues movement.

29-song set. Four songs from 2020’s Letter To You: “Ghosts,” “Letter To You,” “Last Man Standing” and “I’ll See You In My Dreams”. “Last Man Standing” features a new arrangement. “I’ll See You In My Dreams” is performed solo acoustic to end the show. One song from 2022’s Only the Strong Survive: “Nightshift” (written by Franne Golde, Dennis Lambert and Walter Orange, popularized by The Commodores). Concert stalwarts like “Because The Night,” “Dancing in the Dark,” and “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out” are performed in tighter, shorter versions.

The band is billed here as "the Lovin' Spoonful Featuring Joe Butler." Just when everybody had written them off after Sebastian's departure, this flawed gem came out of left field. Butler's smooth voice had graced a few tracks on all of the past LPs, in addition to having a few of his own tunes included. He comes into his own here, but unfortunately, his three originals are the weakest songs on the LP, especially the ultra-hip sound collage "War Games." However, the great pop team of Bonner and Gordon came up with three strong tunes, including the hit "Me About You" (previously done by The Turtles) and the fine "(Till I) Run with You" (the title of the LP as written on the label), with John Stewart supplying the best track, the gorgeous "Never Going Back."

The Small Faces split from manager Don Arden to sign with Andrew Loog Oldham's Immediate label and, in retaliation, Decca and Arden rounded up the remaining recordings the group made for the label and released them as From the Beginning. Appearing just months before their Immediate debut - entitled The Small Faces, just like their first album for Decca - From the Beginning includes early version of "My Way of Giving" and "(Tell Me) Have You Ever Seen Me," and it reprises songs that were on the 1966 Decca LP ("Sha La La La Lee," "What'cha Gonna Do About It"), moves that muddy an already confusing situation. And From the Beginning really doesn't play as a cohesive album by any stretch of the imagination, as it opens with a burst of burgeoning psychedelia then doubles back to the group's early R&B, flaws that matter less as years pass by because, on a track by track basis, there is a lot of wondrous material here…

Utilizing a jug band of fellow Austinites Danny Barnes (tenor guitar and banjo) and Mark Rubin (stand-up bass and Sousaphone – both of the Bad Livers) and harpist Gary Primich on some tracks, James sounds more mature here, evidenced by six originals (the John Hurt-esque "Talco Girl" is particularly nice) and one collaboration with bassist/songwriter Sarah Brown ("My Last Good Car") and effective rather than affected vocals. Stellar guitar throughout, with an added treat: James's blues mandolin on "Midnight Blues."

The only band to use the Beatles, Whitney Houston, Mission Impossible, Petula Clark, Doctor Who, ABBA, and the French national anthem as art statements. Circa 1987: Shag Times, one of the many deliberate cash-ins released in the wake of the Timelords, confirmed Bill Drummond and Jimi Cauty's supremacy over every last imitator and pop stunt plagiarist.

Onetime rivals for R&B supremacy, the two blues greats hit the road together in the Seventies, where they soon discovered how well their styles complemented one another while bantering with expert comic timing. "Nothing is planned tonight," King announces early in this hour-long set, and whether or not that was true there's a spontaneous but never sloppy spark. It's instructive and exciting to hear King's guitar supporting another vocalist, particularly a master such as Bland.

10cc's first two albums, recorded under the sponsorship of entrepreneur and one-time pop star Jonathan King, are combined on one disc for this CD reissue. 1973's 10cc shows that from the start, the group had an uncommon command of recording studio technique; the performances are polished, the harmonies superb, and the production flawless and often witty (all the more remarkable from a new band producing themselves, albeit one comprised of music-biz vets). However, the group was still getting up to speed in terms of their songwriting at this point, and while the craft is fine, there isn't a lot of inspiration on hand. Except for the sardonic "Rubber Bullets" and sarcastically sprightly "The Dean and I," the '50s-inspired parodies on side one don't wear well, and most of side two is clever but not terribly distinguished. 1974's Sheet Music was where 10cc truly hit their stride; the album is full of effective barbed humor buffered by the superbly polished production, which leans toward pretension without quite falling into the pool.

Chicago Ain't Nothin' But A Blues Band (Delmark) was originally released on vinyl in 1972, and collected recordings made by Rev. H. H. Harrington for his Atomic-H label. In addition to recording gospel groups, the good Reverend also brought his share of blues ensembles into his West Side Chicago studio, and that's what is found here. 14 of the 23 cuts on the CD were not released on the original album, so it's hard to call this one a re-issue. And there's some great, raw urban blues to be found here. One of the stars in the Atomic-H stable was Rev. Harrington's nephew, Eddy Clearwater, who is still touring and recording. He contributes six of the disc's songs, most notably the Chuck Berry-ish "Hillbilly Blues" and an uptempo novelty tune "Neckbones Everyday"…

Kennedy, the violinist formerly known as Nigel Kennedy, has a well-earned reputation as the bad boy of classical music. His defiantly anti-Establishment antics anger traditionalists and tickle the rebellious. This venture into the Bach canon will confirm both camps in their views. Traditionalists will fume at such excesses as the exaggerated, ugly flourish at the end of the E Major Concerto and the supersonic speeds adopted for the Allegro movement of the two-violin Concerto among much else, including the puzzle-booklet more appropriate to a pop release. Kennedy's fans, though, will relish those elements of what is an ultimately fairly straightforward set of Bach interpretations enlivened by personal touches, a string sound that owes much to "authentic instrument" practices, and zippy speeds that make for exciting listening.