Between Dr. Dre‘s Detox and Grimes so-called “Lost Album” (that wasn’t even really a record to begin with), it’s been an interesting year for missing music. Especially considering that we’re even hearing why they never came out! For example, on his Apple Radio show a while ago, Dr. Dre casually threw out the reason why Detox never saw wide release: because it wasn’t that good. If only other artists could be so self-aware. It’d definitely spare us from lousy album after lousy album.
But although most aren’t, there are still almost too many lost albums to count. Over the years, countless bands have seen albums fall between the cracks, either from issues within the band, problems with the label, or even because it wasn’t even really a album to begin with. What follows is a look at some of my favourite “lost albums!”
The Great Lost Kinks Record – The Kinks
When the Kinks left Reprise Records in the early 70s, they recorded a bunch of material in a hurry to fulfill a contract; a couple of years later, a bunch of these loose odds and ends were included on The Kink Kronicles, a 2-LP greatest hits set, put together without the band’s consent. But there were still more loose odds and ends. So in 1973, Reprise gathered a bunch of them up into a record they called The Great Lost Kinks Record.
The title was a bit of a misnomer: these songs weren’t part of any one project, just a bunch of loose tracks – although there was a rumoured lost album from around this period. Although there wasn’t really any flow to this LP, it was generally pretty good: it was a nice mix of leftovers from their most fertile period: 1967-69. My favourite cuts are “Mister Songbird,” a poppy folk-rock outtake from Village Green Preservation Society, and “Plastic Man,” a jangling rock tune from the Arthur sessions with some killer lead guitar. But really, it shows how sharp a band they were in these days, with their leftovers better than most band’s albums. Even tracks that fell through these cracks – like Dave Davies’ wonderful B-side “Creeping Jean” are some of the best music from the late 60s.
However, the Davies brothers didn’t see it that way. According to legend, they only found out about the record when hit the charts. Unamused, they filed a lawsuit and had the record pulled from shelves. It took another twenty-plus years, but eventually most of these outtakes were appended to the album they were intended for. The Great Lost Record, though, is something of a collectors item.
Crystal Ball – Prince
Prince’s unreleased archives put just about anyone else’s to shame: the guy’s started and stopped more projects than anyone can be bothered to count. They include an album where he pretended to be a female singer (Camille), a 7-CD box set of samples, several concert movies, and a few outtake compilations. It’s possible the guy’s kept more music in his vaults than most musicians ever release.
But I think my favourite of the bunch is Crystal Ball, which was supposed to be his followup to Parade. A sprawling three-LP set, Crystal Ball went through several stages: it actually started as a single LP called Dream Factory. That album featured his then-backing band The Revolution, the group splintered apart during the sessions with Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman quitting. At the same time, Prince put together the Camille record, which also went unreleased.
Faced with a glut of material, Prince did what any sensible musician would do: throw some of everything on it, plus a bunch of new stuff, all onto a triple-record and ship that instead. Sounds, reasonable, right?
The six-sided record opened with “Rebirth of the Flesh,” went through slick electro-funk (“The Ballad of Dorothy Parker,” “It,” “Shockadelica”), into his pitched-up, slow jam “If I Was Your Girlfriend,” and finished with “Adore.” It was kind of all over the map, but generally was a heaping helping of mid-80s Prince.
Of course, Warner Brothers balked, so Prince went into the studio and trimmed it down to two records; this became Sign O’ The Times, arguably Prince’s best record of the decade: a mix of focused songwriting, funk rock, and some of his best arrangements. Still, with some new material, it was more than just a slimmed down version. I’d argue it’s more or less a different album.
Over the years, bits and pieces of this album have seen release on soundtracks, B-sides, and file-sharing sites; put them together as a whole, and you’ve got one of Prince’s most sprawling, ambitious and successful records.
Untitled Record – The Strokes
After the Strokes broke out with 2001’s Is This It, they struggled with their followup. At one point a live record was proposed and maybe even recorded. Another set them up with uber-producer Nigel Godrich.
It was an inspired casting: Godrich had just worked with Radiohead, and Beck. He’d helped take Radiohead from loud guitar rock to quieter, almost electronic places on OK Computer and Kid A, while his work on Mutations helped reel in Beck’s focus after several sprawling LPs. The Strokes could’ve used a similar approach, since their formula of loud guitars and lazy vocals is fun the first time, but tires quickly.
The band spent spring of 2003 working with Godrich but by May the sessions broke down. A little while later, the Strokes enlisted Gordon Raphael, who worked on their first record and banged out a record in three months. The result – 2003’s Room on Fire – was generally the same as their first. In 2011, Nick Valensi told Pitchfork “I think the album would’ve ended up a lot better if we’d had another couple of weeks.” Maybe, but maybe the Strokes are something of a one-trick horse. They kept releasing albums, but haven’t had the same cache they enjoyed in 2001.
Turn It Over: The Bill Laswell Remix – Tony Williams Lifetime
A good case can be made that Tony Williams Lifetime’s first record – Emergency! – was the first jazz-fusion album, mixing Williams furious drumming against John McLaughlin’s slashing guitar and keeping it held together by Larry Young’s organ. The followup was to be even more of a monster, adding Jack Bruce on bass.
The resulting record was kind of a mess, chopped almost in half for release, with jams ending just as they got going. The Lifetime promptly folded up shop, with Bruce going solo, McLaughlin forming the Mahavishnu Orchestra and Williams decending into health problems. But in the late 1990s, bass phenom and hotshot producer Bill Laswell decided to get to work on the masters.
It wasn’t a far-fetched idea. Laswell had already reworked the back catalog of Miles Davis and Carlos Santana, making two remix records that took their experimental jazz/rock elements and shoved them right to the forefront. With Turn It Over, Laswell couldn’t just make a killer remix, he could salvage the reputation for an unheralded jazz fusion album.
Laswell’s remix kicked out the jams, extending some from the original LP and adding new ones to the mix. McLaughlin’s guitar worked well with Bruce’s bass, neither one dominating as much as they did when playing solo. Williams’ drumming was frantic, driving the jams forward while the organ pulsated and glued the music together. It was a remarkable rescue job.
But somewhere along the line, Verve Records/Universal changed their mind and wouldn’t release the record. According to internet lore, Laswell took matters into his own hands, making CD-Rs from his master and sold copies at a local music store. Those are long gone, but the remix can be found with some Google-fu. It’s recommended if you like your jazz loud, heavy, and raging.