Jo Jo Gunne (1972)

It's tempting to make big statements about Jo Jo Gunne and the romance of rock 'n' roll and all the things that should have been, commercially and otherwise. Lost now, like David Essex's "Rock On," residue from an era. I think I might have been the only person in high school who liked this album, and I was defensive enough about it that I liked it loudly and A LOT. But I haven't listened to it much in the years since, and even on this exercise didn't have the heart to look into the follow-up albums (Bite Down Hard '73 and Jumpin' the Gunne '74), especially once I realized only five of the nine songs on this debut still sound good, and some of them only in patches. Even the Wikipedia article is a little hard on them, with a vague tone of disapproval: "The fact that there was no breakout single failed to generate interest and sales for the band," it remonstrates of the later albums. "The group did not maintain the commercial momentum of their first release. They broke up in 1974." But Jo Jo Gunne, band and album named self-consciously for a lackluster Chuck Berry song about a monkey, can kick pretty hard when it does kick, saturated with a ridiculous bawdy lusty dated sexism that almost feels innocent now. They rose from the ashes of the heavy '60s-inflected band Spirit with a '70s sound equal parts glam in the tradition of Slade and old-fashioned CCR rock 'n' roll gumbo, with a sense for what might be coming in terms of pub-rock. Jo Jo Gunne should have been on Midnight Special every week. They should have been the house band the way Paul Revere & the Raiders were on Where the Action Is. The album opener "Run Run Run" reached #27 on the singles chart in June 1972 but it's not even the best song here. That is more like the epic workup of "Academy Award," five minutes of off-rhythm guitar chords and squealing flourishes, preening sexism, and a shivery-good buildup, name-checking Hedy Lamarr as it goes (inventor of Wi-Fi, unknown in 1972). I'm also fond of the good parts in "Shake That Fat," "I Make Love," and "99 Days," proud strutting cock-rock exercises when they aren't mired in dull parts. Not sure what you do with songs like that or albums like Jo Jo Gunne—there's some real inspiration here, stuff that hits home and still sounds fresh and good. But it's going on 50 years old now and often sounds it. Approach with caution. In addition, play loud.