CD Odyssey Disc 1826: Al Stewart

Wherein AM radio gold is enlivened with a gratuitous number of "Princess Bride" references...

A long-time and loyal reader recently asked me to consider not reviewing compilations, and sticking to studio and live records exclusively. I get it. I am enraged every time I see compilation albums on “greatest records of all time” lists (I’d be looking at you, Rolling Stone – except that I don’t look at you anymore). I avoid that crime by not assigning ratings or rankings to them.

I appreciate the suggestion (and the loyal readership) but I can’t very well change the system 1,800+ records in. Once a reviewer starts making exceptions people start disobeying the rules and then it’s nothing but work work work….

So with apologies to those who feel likewise, herewith is a “best of” review. I’ll keep it entertaining by seeding it with Princess Bride references. Hint: they’ve already started…

Disc 1826 is…The Very Best of Al Stewart

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Want to read how albums are selected and what the ratings mean? Click my introductory post and learn more. Earlier reviews dating back to 2009 are at A Creative Maelstrom (my blog).

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Artist: Al Stewart

Year of Release: 1988, but featuring music from 1973 - 1981

What’s up with the Cover? If it was just the inset photo, this would qualify as a Giant Head Cover (much beloved for many years here on the Odyssey) but it being inset it only manages to land a designation of 'Medium Head'.

Upon that Medium Head Al Stewart has a luxurious mop of hair, so bushy, big and absent of any modern hair care products that it extends past the frame in a way that would make a passport photographer grimace.

I once had a head of hair even more resplendent than this (I have a driver’s license photo where it extends not past one side of the frame, but three sides!). As with Mr. Stewart, time has been unkind to this head of hair and now only photos remain.

But I digress…

How I Came To Know It: Sheila (who grew up listening to Al Steward on the radio) grabbed this one at a thrift store. I did not know anything about Al Stewart, but our thrift store CD rules dictate that anything brought home gets a chance, no matter how weird.

How It Stacks Up: No stacking compilations

Ratings: Compilations aren’t rated. If you want to know more about how I feel about Al Stewart you’re gonna have to read to the end.

By 1988 a lot more people had CD players, and they were hungrily looking for content. Unlike me in 1988, most of those people were well off and older, so you can find a fair bit of compilation albums from artists in the seventies that appealed to folks of a certain vintage.

Enter Mr. Al Stewart, and his smooth and silky sounds of British folk revivalism. British folk revivalism in the seventies wasn’t about obscure reels from the highlands or keening murder ballads, it was about bringing the sensibility of folk (telling a story) to the masses. The result packed a lot of schmaltz.

Stewart’s vocals are made for such a movement, with a pure and light tone as soothing and inoffensive of a gentle summer breeze. Even when Stewart is singing about harsh topics, you can’t help but feel relaxed. Nazis on the hill you say? Be there right after I finish this glass of sangria…

“Wait a minute”, you exclaim, “This album has Nazis! I was told Al Stewart was a chill laid back pop/folk singer!”

He is, gentle reader, but in the same way some stories have Cliffs of Insanity and shrieking eels, other tales have Nazis - bad guys help drive a plot. The only difference is Nazis are real. In fact, the song featuring Nazis – “Roads to Moscow” is one of the album’s better tracks. It is an eight-minute opus telling the story of Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941 all the way through to their eventual defeat four years later. If my 10 Sabaton albums didn’t already tip you off, I’m a sucker for a history nerd song, and “Roads to Moscow” pushed all the right buttons. it is a fine example of a “never get involved in a land war in Asia” song (for the best ever please listen to Mark Knopfler’s “Bonaparte”).

As for production and arrangement decisions, this record is not afraid to try things. We’ve got flamenco (“On the Border”), samba (“the Running Man”) and even a little Ziggy Stardust rip-offery (“Lord Grenville”), all of it wrapped up in a sweet AM radio pop friendly coating to help it go down easier. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

Despite harsh topics like Russian winter war, Al Stewart isn’t here to make you feel bad. The worst moments in his breakup song “Delia’s Gone” feature rain at the beach and some disconcerting “dream figures with moons for eyes” (?). Compare that to Johnny Cash’s “Delia” where our title character gets shot. Dead.

I didn't grow up listening to the radio much and the station in my hometown wasn’t Al Stewart friendly anyway so the only song I knew on this record going in was “Time Passages”. It’s a masterclass in writing a pop melody. I fell smitten from the first bar and despite two unconscionably bad saxophone solos (yes, two – in the same song) I still couldn’t help but love this enduring standard of AM radio gold.

Another feature of the CD is it can hold a lot more music, so artists weren’t stuck with the radio edits of their hits (although in the case of “Time Passages” that would have been welcome). You can throw on some epics like “Roads to Moscow” and the even more bloated “Nostradamus Part One, the World Goes to Riyadh, Nostradamus Part Two (live)”. Yes, that’s the title of the second song where, over a 13 minute span, Stewart sets large swaths of Nostradamus predictions to music. I admit I liked this more than is seemly (see: history nerd comments above).

Only about a third of thrift store albums survive into the collection, so you won’t read about all of ‘em. This Al Stewart stuff turned out to be a hidden gem, however, and any fun I have poked above was of the gentle variety.

Best tracks: Time Passages, Delia’s Gone, Road to Moscow, Merlin’s Times