Albums In Decline: T.Rex, Iggy Pop, The Ramones

By Christian Lipski

There comes a time in every band’s life when they release the album that represents their commercial and/or critical peak. And then there are the albums that come out after that. Perhaps on their own, the later albums would be popular and appreciated in their own right, but when compared to the more well-known works, they tend to fall short in most fans’ minds. They get passed up in retrospectives if not mocked outright, and they’re rarely on the list to be re-released. But there’s always something to love about them, especially if you bought them new.

T.Rex, Zinc Alloy and the Hidden Riders of Tomorrow or, A Creamed Cage In August

Released in 1974, two albums after The Slider, and three after Electric Warrior, things were starting to cool off a bit for Marc Bolan. This was the second T.Rex record I bought (in 1987), the first being a compilation of early greatest hits, and the contrast was striking. I loved “Get It On” and “Jeepster,” and decided to go ahead and get an album. Zinc Alloy was one of many in the rack at Tower Records, and I picked it because the title was interesting (and echoed Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars). I vividly remember putting the CD in the player and hearing the first notes of “Venus Loon.” I don’t think I took a second look at the CD case to verify that this was T.Rex, but I certainly wondered. I quickly adjusted, though, and it became a favorite. It has a creative freedom to it that is reflected in song titles such as “Painless Persuasion V. The Meathawk Immaculate” and “The Leopards Featuring Gardenia and the Mighty Slug.” Marc was still letting his imagination take the lead over his desire to claim a spot on the charts, which really started with the followup release Bolan’s Zip Gun. But at this point the sound was loud and sassy, and the lyrics were still odd and fun. After testing the water with the compilation, Zinc Alloy was the first real step on my T.Rex journey, which continues to this day. For that reason alone, I’m fond of the album, but there’s more in there to discover. Bolan was trying to expand what the T.Rex sound was, and though he eventually collapsed under the weight of his own stardom he attained some interesting heights.

Iggy Pop, Blah Blah Blah

I also had a “greatest hits” compilation for Iggy, whom, like T.Rex, I investigated because of the link to David Bowie’s history. The hits package covered all the good stuff from the mid-70s, so when Blah Blah Blah came out in 1986 I couldn’t wait to get it. It couldn’t have been much more different from his early stuff. Even though it was co-written with David Bowie, like many of Iggy’s big hits, Bowie himself was in a creative slump, being about to release the disappointing Never Let Me Down. At the time, though, I wasn’t aware of any of this; I just knew that Iggy Pop had released a record that was easily accessible and fun to listen to. There’s a lot of mid-80s production, but there is some real honesty in it. Iggy’s lyrics are simple, but also show that universal concepts can be illustrated in everyday events, like getting a present from a loved one in “Shades”: “I never thought I was worth much/Or that anyone could treat me this way.” I saw the tour for this album in San Francisco, and despite the relative slickness of the record, Iggy was as wild as ever. Obviously I associate the album with the time, but it’s just a fun record. Iggy went on to a new renaissance and has since disowned Blah Blah Blah, but it gave him visibility through the singles “Real Wild Child” and “Cry For Love” after a long dry period. And hell, I’m not the person I was then either, but I can still appreciate that time for what it was.

The Ramones, Animal Boy

Another release from 1986, which is the year I started college and began my music obsession for real. Once again I had a compilation, this time a mixtape from a friend, to introduce me to The Ramones’ music. When Animal Boy came out, it got some airplay on the local radio station KITS, and I eagerly grabbed it from Tower. Unlike the other two albums here, this one was not a radical departure from the artists’ style. The Ramones sounded like The Ramones, and that’s what I was looking for. The songs were fast and unrelenting, and many times darn near unintelligible. The only song that tends to veer away from the normal sound is “My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down (Bonzo Goes To Bitburg),” which is an emotionally angry song about Reagan visiting a German graveyard where SS soldiers were buried. The album itself is loud and obnoxious and was great to play in the car. I remember driving around Berkeley with “Eat That Rat” blaring out of the speakers. I had just seen the movie Sid and Nancy and the song “Love Kills” is about the couple’s relationship (“Sid never meant any harm/He shot some dope into his arm”), and was also rejected for the soundtrack. This was a Ramones album that I could claim as my own, that I had not inherited from the generation previous. At the time I think that it was one of the hardest-rocking records that I owned, and I was immensely proud of it.

Just because artists release albums that aren’t considered “classics” doesn’t mean they’re worthless. Maybe the artists were trying to push themselves into new areas or new ideas. Maybe they tested out new sounds or personalities. There’s history in those tracks, so dig into your collection. Find that CD from your favorite band that has fallen out of favor and revisit it. Remember what it was like to enjoy their newest release, even if you had to do a little self-convincing.