Box sets rarely live up to their bulk. They’re usually too pricey for the casual fan, and too redundant for the committed collector. But each year brings exceptions, and this season’s batch includes not just terrific compilations of Depression-era blues, Washington, D.C., punk and Dwight Yoakam country classics, but a triple-album documenting Prince’s latest tour. Here in descending order of preference are this year’s best boxed-album buys in pop, rock, blues and country:
Various artists, “20 Years of Dischord” (Dischord): The Washington, D.C., label’s do-it-yourself business ethic continues to epitomize punk’s original promise, while launching a host of influential bands: Minor Threat, Rites of Spring, Fugazi, Jawbox. They’re all represented on two discs of “hits” and a third of unreleased material. From the hard-core pithiness of the Teen Idles to the demented soul of the Make-Up, Dischord remains a reliable source of three-chord nose-thumbing, and in keeping with the label’s don’t-cheat-the-fans attitude, this beautifully annotated box is selling at most places for less than $30.
Various artists, “When the Sun Goes Down: The Secret History of Rock & Roll” (Bluebird): Trolling through nearly three decades worth of recordings in its vaults from the pre-rock ‘n’ roll era, RCA/Bluebird has come up with one of the more entertaining concept packages of recent years. Though this four-CD set should not be viewed as definitive (Harry Smith’s Folk Anthology, the plantation recordings of Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker’s early solo singles also could be subtitled a “secret history of rock ‘n’ roll”), it represents a first-rate job of musical excavation, bringing together 100 recordings that individually might cost collectors hundreds of dollars to track down. The sound quality is excellent, and the performances have an intensity that cuts through the decades, none more so than Tommy Johnson’s falsetto-tinged “Cool Drink of Water Blues” (1928) and Lil Green’s unflinching reading of the feminist anthem “Why Don’t You Do Right” (1941).
Dwight Yoakam, “Reprise Please Baby: The Warner Bros. Years” (Reprise/Rhino): Here in one four-disc package is everything that’s still right about country music, or at least what used to be called country music in the era before Garth and Shania. Though Yoakam remains a Nashville outsider, his sound is honky-tonk elixir: the ache that’s never far from the surface in his deceptively laid-back voice, the sharp turns of phrase in his lyrics, the driving twang of Pete Anderson’s genius guitar (check out the blue-flame solo on a cover of the Blasters’ “Long White Cadillac”). Here’s proof that at least one guy still writes ’em like they used to, even if country radio no longer wants to play along.
Bjork, “Family Tree” (Elektra): The Icelandic pop queen gets props for keeping the avant-garde alive in pop music circles; few artists are more adept at bringing out the sensuality in strangeness. This six-CD set gives listeners plenty of both, with EP-length discs devoted to her early work (including one track written when she was 15 and an early version of the Sugarcube’s hit “Birthday”), string quartet reworkings of some of her best-known songs, rhythm experiments and a 12-song greatest hits.
Various artists, “Metal Blade Records: 20th Anniversary” (Metal Blade): The heavy-metal renaissance of the early ’80s — injecting Dungeons and Dragons puffery with punk venom — was led by the Southern California label Metal Blade. It launched the careers of Metallica, Slayer, Trouble, Voivod and King’s X, among others, and much of the best of that two-decade run is collected in this whomping 10-disc package (nine CDs, one DVD). Even dedicated headbangers will need to strap on a helmet to survive these odes to the Apocalypse, whether glimpsed through the past darkly in Witchkiller’s hilariously overwrought “The Day of the Saxon” or the not too distant future in Slayer’s demonic “Chemical Warfare.”
Rod Stewart, “Reason to Believe: The Complete Mercury Studio Recordings” (Mercury Chronicles): All the Rod the Mod most of us will ever need, this three-disc set repackages his first five albums, all classics with the exception of the last (“Smiler”). The albums merger of folk instrumentation, rock rhythm and roguish charm influenced everyone from the Replacements to John Mellencamp. The sound is considerably improved over earlier CD incarnations, particularly “Every Picture Tells a Story,” which restores the punch to Mick Waller’s cataclysmic drumming. After this period, Stewart was off to Los Angeles, where he promptly turned into a parody of himself.
Prince, “One Night Alone … Live!” (NPG Records): Going his merry way as an underground artist long divorced from the mainstream music industry he once dominated, Prince remains a protean live performer, his marathon concerts frequently eclipsing his erratic studio releases. This three-CD set documents his 2002 tour with the latest and jazziest incarnation of the New Power Generation, which overhauls his songbook from 1980 (“When U Were Mine”) through his latest concept album, “The Rainbow Children.” While Prince’s lyrical conceits are a muddle on “Rainbow,” the story’s the music. Save for a few Candy Dulfer saxophone solos that noodle rather than inspire, this is Prince’s latest attempt to marry Jimi Hendrix’s Band of Gypsies with Parliament Funkadelic, and he nearly pulls it off. A fourth CD finds Prince slipping on his cocktail-lounge jacket for some deceptively pretty piano ballads, including a cover of Joni Mitchell’s “A Case of You” and the muddle-headed “Avalanche,” in which the singer trash-talks Abraham Lincoln.
Bob Dylan, “The Bootleg Series Vol. 5: Live 1975, The Rolling Thunder Revue” (Columbia Legacy): Gathering ringers (Joan Baez, Roger McGuinn) and no-names to barnstorm North America gypsy caravan-style in the fall of 1975, Dylan set about his latest reinvention. Though the Rolling Thunder shows were among the finest of Dylan’s career, they’ve been poorly documented, previously surfacing only in a blustery live album, “Hard Rain,” and in the obtuse 1978 documentary “Renaldo and Clara.” This 22-song, two-CD document qualifies as the definitive deal, and it’s startling to hear the conviction in Dylan’s vocals as he dances with Scarlett Rivera’s violin and Rob Stoner’s bass. He gives “It Ain’t Me, Babe” a calypso overhaul and, with the breakdown of his marriage looming, “Sara” and “Just Like a Woman” take on extra poignance.
Iron Maiden, “Eddie’s Archive” (Columbia Legacy): Let’s give it up for the best packaged box set of the season: a silver coffin containing six CDs, a family tree tracing Iron Maiden’s countless permutations on fake medieval parchment, and a pewter shot glass. Initiates may need a few drinks to buffer themselves against Bruce Dickinson’s air-raid shriek, while the galloping tempos and double-time riffs affirm why these British geezers launched air guitarists by the millions in the ’80s. This package is for hard-core collectors only, culled from live performances just as Dickinson joined the band in ’82, BBC archives and B sides. Less committed fans should seek out “Edward the Great,” a one-volume greatest hits.
Yes, “In a Word (1969–)” (Elektra/Rhino): When did Yes “jump the shark,” in the parlance of modern-day irrelevance? For this listener, it was the 1978 track “Save the Whale,” which conveniently comes at the midway point of this five-CD career retrospective. Early Yes is best: The British art-rockers mastered a combination of ambition and tunefulness, quasi-classical complexity and rock intensity. The we-are-the-world pomp documented on the fourth and fifth discs is reserved for those people who watch the closing ceremonies of the Olympic Games for the music.
Enya, “Only Time: The Collection” (Reprise): Chances are even the most ardent Enya fans will run out of herbal tea, bath oil and enthusiasm before this four-CD set runs its course. A little bit of the Irish singer’s mist-and-moon sound-painting goes a long way. At its worst, her music is the equivalent of death by vagueness: vaguely Celtic, even though it has a certain Hallmark utility; vaguely medieval, even though it’s recorded with synthesizers; vaguely melodic, even though many of the tunes drift toward the same melancholy destination. At its best, though, Enya’s music has a cinematic majesty that puts her at the top tier of the New Age class. For a dose of that, a better and less pricey option is her finest album, “Watermark” (1988), which contributes no fewer than 11 tracks to this collection.
Jeff Buckley, “The Grace EPs” (Columbia): Though Jeff Buckley released only one studio album in his brief lifetime, the bins are bursting with nearly 20 other releases, most of them posthumous. This collection of five EPs at least has the advantage of Buckley’s authorization; all came out to promote his 1994 “Grace” release in various parts of the world. They combine album tracks with live recordings and studio outtakes. Those who found Buckley a self-indulgent crooner will find plenty of ammunition, with epic bouts of swooning on “Mojo Pin” and Alex Chilton’s “Kanga-Roo,” but his genius for inhabiting a song is evident as he reinvents Hank Williams’ “Lost Highway” as backporch blues and stakes another claim to Leonard Cohen’s immortal “Hallelujah.”
Various artists, “Like, Omigod! The ’80s Pop Culture Box (Totally)” (Rhino): These seven CDs are devoted to the me-decade’s pop fluff; even without Poison and Bon Jovi represented, it’s tough to imagine anyone enjoying the whole thing. Tolerable one-hit wonders (the Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star”) and guilty pleasures (Peter Shilling’s “Major Tom”) abound. But much of this serves as a brutal reminder of just how dated most ’80s pop sounds, with its reliance on drum machines, samplers and synthesizers. And only masochists will want to be reminded that Don “Miami Vice” Johnson (“Heartbeat”) and Billy Crystal (“You Look Marvelous”) once had recording contracts.
