Like everything on Memphis Slim's album Goin' Back to Tennessee or Alvin Youngblood Hart's "Tallacatcha" (a Western swing performance worthy of Bob Wills), Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown's 1975 Barclay album Down South in the Bayou Country completely transcends any and all attempts to confine this diverse artist within the artificial parameters of blues or any other preordained category. Consisting mostly of songs written by Hoyt Garrick, Jr., Charles Gressett, and David Craig with additional tunes by J. Loyd and Joe Stampley, this pretty parfait of country & western, Southern rock, cowboy hoedown, and electric Cajun soul music was recorded during February and March 1974 in Bogalusa, LA. Gatemouth, fresh from his tenure as Deputy Sheriff of San Juan County, NM, sounds particularly pleased to be active at the center of a project so completely infused with authentic Southern sensibilities. Perhaps the most satisfying track off of the original album is "Loup Garou." This hoodoo funk ritual with background vocals by Geraldine "Sister Gerry" Richard sounds as if it might have been influenced by Dr. John's "Loop Garoo," which had appeared on that artist's Atco album Remedies in 1970.

Despite its age, this collection remains the best introduction to the wonderfully bizarre sounds of Jethro Tull – a unique combination of folk music, progressive rock, heavy metal, and of course, Ian Anderson's ubiquitous flute. Drawing exclusively from the band's '70s heyday, opener "Living in the Past" sets the retrospective tone, leading the way into the signature guitar riff of "Aqualung," the band's multifaceted pièce de résistance. Though lyrically indecipherable, "Locomotive Breath" is equally timeless, and the moment when John Evan's fanciful piano intro gives way to Martin Barre's guitar feedback remains thrilling. With his acoustic guitar in hand, Ian Anderson becomes a medieval bard, drawing the listener into worlds of legend both threatening ("Sweet Dream," "Witches Promise") and joyously carefree ("Thick as a Brick," "Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day"). The unbelievable kaleidoscope of sound which makes up "Songs from the Wood" is simply too original and intricate for words to describe.

On Don't Let the Bossman Get You Down, Bishop projects a good-natured, humorous persona in the extended spoken-word sections of his songs, but still finds time to play a lot of tasty blues guitar.

Robin Trower's first rock, as opposed to blues, studio album in five years, returns the guitarist to the fluid, Hendrix-infused trio sound of his salad days. While the songwriting isn't quite up to the quality of his '70s work, Trower's snaky, echoed, languid guitar and his powerful duo's sympathetic backing make this a welcome addition to his extensive catalog. While the smooth, soulful whisky-soaked vocals of original singer Jimmy Dewer are sorely missed (Trower, who handles some of the singing here is at best adequate), the songs still shimmer with the uniquely silvery quality fans have come to expect from the guitarist.

Robin Trower's peak commercial period occurred during the mid-'70s, when the bluesy guitarist specialized in a style that relied heavily on the power of the almighty riff (as evidenced by just about any selection from his best known release, 1974's Bridge of Sighs). But on his 1997 offering, Someday Blues, Trower tries a different approach, as he cuts back on the Jimi Hendrix-esque riffing, and focuses more on Albert King-style licks, and letting Hammond organ fill in much of the open spaces. This approach is best sampled on "Feels So Bad" (which features some great vocalizing by Trower – who handles all singing on the album as well) and the slow-burning title track. And for fans of a classic, searing Fender Strat tone, the album-closing "Sweet Little Angel" is a must-hear. While there's nothing here that matches the six-string pyrotechnics of, say, "Day of the Eagle," Trower still proves to be a major blues-rock force on Someday Blues. It's just that now Trower puts an added emphasis on the "blues" rather than the "rock."