If 1972 was the greatest year ever for albums, and if 1973 was close behind, where does that leave 1974?
Witness such standout 1974 albums as Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark, Bob Marley and the Wailers’ Natty Dread, Randy Newman’s Good Old Boys, Stevie Wonder’s Fulfillingness’ First Finale, Neil Young’s On the Beach, Miles Davis’ Get Up With It, Dolly Parton’s Jolene and Tangerine Dream’s Phaedra.
The list of similarly impressive 1974 releases also includes Steely Dan’s Pretzel Logic, Linda Ronstadt’s Heart Like a Wheel, David Bowie’s Diamond Dogs, Joe Pass’ Virtuoso, Bonnie Raitt’s Streetlights, Roxy Music’s Country Life, Ann Peebles’ I Can’t Stand the Rain and Parliament’s Up for the Down Stroke.
Just as good from 1974 are Labelle’s Nightbirds, Jackson Browne’s Late for the Sky, Kraftwerk’s Autobahn, Fela Kuti & Africa 70’s Confusion, Blue Oyster Cult’s Secret Treaties, Grateful Dead’s From the Mars Hotel, The Raspberries’ Starting Over, Can’s Soon Over Babaluma and Willie Nelson’s Phases and Stages. It was also the year some artists released two very memorable albums each, most notably James Brown (The Payback and Hell), Leo Kottke (Ice Water and Dreams and All That Stuff), Queen (Queen II and Sheer Heart Attack) and Frank Zappa (Apostrophe (‘) and Roxy & Elsewhere).
So, what are my favourite albums of 1974?
JONI MITCHELL, COURT AND SPARK
Her sixth album in as many years, the luminous Court and Spark was Joni Mitchell’s most sophisticated work to date. Less nakedly introspective than her 1971 masterpiece, Blue, it still offered a candid exploration of the tug-of-war between conflicting desires. Or, as Mitchell so knowingly sings on Help Me, still the biggest hit of her career: "We love our lovin’/ But not like we love our freedom."
KING CRIMSON, RED
Few albums have captured the sound of a band simultaneously exploding and imploding as powerfully as Red by King Crimson, the seminal English progressive-rock act that influenced everybody from Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain to the members of Phish, Rush, Tool and Primus. Brainy and brawny, Red combines edgy dissonance, improvisational finesse and blistering power to create a hair-raising sonic experience.
BOB MARLEY AND THE WAILERS, NATTY DREAD
The departure of Wailers’ co-founders Peter Tosh and Bunny Livingston seemed to spur Bob Marley to even greater creative heights on Natty Dread. Its nine songs, including No Woman, No Cry, Lively Up Yourself and Revolution, are by turns sensuous and thought-provoking, celebratory and reflective, as Marley mixes penetrating songs about redemption, love, faith and rebellion against corrupt political systems.
LITTLE FEAT, FEATS DON’T FAIL ME NOW
The exceptional Los Angeles band Little Feat made three great albums, 1973’s Dixie Chicken, 1974’s Feats Don’t Fail Me Now and 1975’s The Last Record Album. From start to finish, Feats captures the band at a creative peak with its intoxicating blend of rock, funk, blues, New Orleans R&B, and more. The opening three numbers — Rock & Roll Doctor, Oh Atlanta and the sinewy Skin It Back — would be enough to make any album stand out. Here, they are matched note for note by the six superb songs that follow.
EBERHARD WEBER, THE COLOURS OF CHLOE
A striking fusion of impressionistic jazz, hypnotic minimalism and contemporary chamber music, German bassist Eberhard Weber’s cello-drenched The Colours of Chloe is a singular work. By turns hushed and haunting, enigmatic and quietly electrifying, it established him and the German record label ECM as major international forces. Chloe was a key inspiration for Kate Bush, who later featured Weber’s bass work on her own albums.
GRAM PARSONS, GRIEVOUS ANGEL
Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris created such sweet harmony together on 1973’s GP that few could envision them topping it. But Grievous Angel is even better, a country and Americana-music gem that sounds as vital and stirring today as it did 50 years ago. With the chillingly beautiful In My Hour of Darkness, recorded only a few weeks before the 26-year-old Parsons suffered a fatal overdose in late 1973, he seemed to foretell his own death.
SLAPP HAPPY, SLAPP HAPPY
This German-British trio’s second album is a treasure trove of left-of-centre art-pop that is sly, lilting and gently subversive. Singer Dagmar Krause combined German cabaret traditions with what sometimes suggested clones of Edith Piaf, Diana Ross and Yoko Ono rolled into one. Tango-fuelled opening cut, Casablanca Moon, begins with this memorable couplet: He used to wear fedoras, now he wears a fez/ There’s cabalistic innuendos in everything he says/ Sucking at a cigarette, picking at a thread/ Underneath the Casablanca Moon.
