THE TERRY SCOTT TAYLOR BUYING GUIDE

Terry Taylor just may be the most creative, consistently satisfying artist working today that you’ve never heard of. Between his three bands (Daniel Amos, Swirling Eddies and Lost Dogs) and his solo work, he’s made more than 30 albums and written well over 400 songs. It’s amazing to think that not only has he amassed such a vast and varied body of work, but that he’s done it all in relative obscurity over 26 years. Even the comparatively musically learned often have no idea who he is.

As a case in point, I only discovered Taylor about a year and a half ago. I had seen his name several times under “producer” for some really cool records, but I had never heard even one of the above-mentioned 400 songs until picking up the Alarma Chronicles set. Since then, I’ve scoured the globe (okay, just radrockers.com) for his work. There are 26 “important” Taylor works as of this writing (the guy’s still producing at an amazing rate), all studio creations, and there are, of course, a number of live, best-of and apocryphal projects as well.

This guide is only going to hit on the 26 studio albums, which comprise the heart of the Taylor oeuvre. Most of these are out of print, but thanks to the efforts of Galaxy21 Music and Millennium8 Distribution, many of them will become available again shortly. The in-print records are available at danielamos.com, and the out-of-print ones can mainly be found at radrockers.com for cheap cassette prices and outrageous CD prices. Happy hunting.

This buyer’s guide is presented in chronological order. Taylor works with several groups of musicians at the same time, and no two of his albums have ever sounded quite the same. The breakdown appears to work like this: Daniel Amos, the main band, is home for the more elaborate and ambitious projects. When Taylor feels like cutting loose, both musically and lyrically, he convenes the same musicians and calls them the Swirling Eddies. His more country leanings are covered by the Lost Dogs, a veritable spiritual pop supergroup, and his more reflective and somber works are released under his own name. Lately he’s been blurring those lines, though. More and more, Taylor becomes the kind of artist that surprises at every turn.

Here are short examinations of his first 26 surprises:

Daniel Amos

The debut from 1975, set to be re-released later next year, is a simple, engaging bible study set to twangy country tunes. It’s basic, melodic and overtly Christian, blatant in such a way that Taylor himself has all but disowned the record. Songs like “Abidin’” still remain favorites of those who refused to follow Taylor down his subsequent musical paths, but this record contains very few hints of the band DA would become. If you like your Jesus served straight up with a dash of sweet slide guitar, this is for you.

Daniel Amos - Shotgun Angel

The improvement from first album to second is breathtaking, even though Shotgun Angel is barely a foreshadowing of future destinations. Side one is just as country as the first album, with a few poppier numbers (“Father’s Arms”), but side two is almost Abbey Road in scope and sequence. Taylor gets a grip on some great metaphors here as well, outlining the book of Revelations in something of a fresh and original way. Shotgun Angel is just about to see a two-disc 25th anniversary edition from M8, so if you’re interested, you might want to hold off for a few months.

Daniel Amos - Horrendous Disc

Much has been made of the delayed release of this third album. Originally set to go in 1978, the label held onto it for three years, precipitating a mess of legalities and the reputation of “most litigated Christian album ever.” The ironic thing is, Horrendous Disc is nowhere near as good as Shotgun Angel, which preceded it, or Alarma, which came after. It includes more heavy guitar songs, like the classic opener “I Love You #19,” and the nifty mini-opera of a title track, but mostly the record treads water. Had it been released on time, it might have been a minor footnote in the band’s history. As it was, Disc came out mere weeks before Alarma, and what was supposed to be a gradual transition (helped along by the few rockier tracks on Disc) turned into an overnight transformation.

Daniel Amos - Alarma

Terry Taylor really started to shine on this great record, the first of the four Alarma Chronicles. Devised as a science fiction novel set to music, the Alarma Chronicles detailed the sorry state of the world without offering the standard Christian answers for three whole albums. This is dark, angry stuff, made more so by the sparse, immediate production of this first volume. Put simply, Alarma rocks. It’s as effective and powerful as the first four Elvis Costello albums, with its blistering guitars and finger-pointing lyrics. “Faces to the Window” talkes aim at lip-service charity, “My Room” assaults those who don’t leave their churches and their safe little worlds, and “Big Time Big Deal” tackles the favorite easy target of the ‘80s, televangelism. Alarma sounds as raw and compelling now as it must have in 1981, when it single-handedly changed what Christian music could be.

A quick note: the four Alarma Chronicles have been re-released in a gorgeous three-CD book set by M8. Worth just about any price.

Daniel Amos - Doppelganger

A strange sequel and continuation of Alarma, Doppelganger focused on the idea of double existences, taking that idea to several fascinating places. The songs are less immediate and more dissonant, adding to the angry tone. Doppelganger is a serious lashing out, from the anti-commercialism of “Mall (All Over the World)” to the attacks on hypocrisy that make up “New Car” and “I Didn’t Build It For Me.” Doppelganger concludes with “Here I Am,” a song that makes it clear that Taylor isn’t excluding himself from his assaults. Musically, just the guitar work alone on this record will make you weep. Doppelganger takes a few listens to appreciate, like all of Taylor’s best work. It is, by far, the best of the four Chronicles.

Daniel Amos - Vox Humana

The ‘80s took their toll on the DA sound with this third Chronicle. The synthesizer became the grounding instrument, and the songs turned into commentary on artificiality. Oddly, some of Taylor’s most heartfelt lyrical work is here, like “William Blake” and “She’s All Heart.” It’s all couched in keyboard sounds that were probably cutting-edge in 1984 but haven’t held up as well since then. Still, there is much brilliance here, especially “Travelogue,” “Sanctuary” and the classic “(It’s the ‘80s So Where’s Our) Rocket Packs.”

Daniel Amos - Fearful Symmetry

The final Chronicle brought all the diverse sounds of the last three albums together more successfully than Taylor himself gives it credit for. While it suffers in places from the same dated production as its predecessor, Symmetry manages to wrap things up nicely, especially in its concluding four songs. Symmetry is an album about God, and about offering up the answers to the problems detailed in the first three Chronicles. As such, though, it’s remarkably restrained and poetic in its approach, so much so that one has to search the lyrics for hidden meanings. Taylor’s attempt to describe God in 10 songs here probably informed DA’s next effort, Darn Floor Big Bite, which was all about man’s inability to do just that.

Terry Scott Taylor - Knowledge and Innocence

Taylor’s first two solo albums are really a double record released separately, dealing with the same subject matter and possessing the same basic sound. They are an exploration of life and death, and despite the same dated production that marred the conclusion of the Chronicles, they’re quite beautiful. Knowledge is mostly about birth and the passing down of grace, and makes a sweet companion volume to...

Terry Scott Taylor - A Briefing for the Ascent

The second half of Knowledge is about letting go of loved ones, and Taylor sung these songs to his mother on her deathbed. The production is still somewhat jarring, especially in the synthesized orchestral instrumental sections, but the melodies and lyrics are heartfelt and lovely. There’s also a nice cover of the Beatles’ “Long Long Long” on here. Separately, these records are good, but together they complement each other perfectly.

Daniel Amos - Darn Floor Big Bite

This one is perfect. Darn Floor, named after the sign language phrase used by a trained monkey to describe an earthquake, represents Taylor hitting his stride. These songs sound like nothing else released in 1987, and in fact still hold up as modern today. The melodies are complex and invigorating, raw and brilliant. The album is an exploration of the futility of describing God, painted in such metaphorical and searching terms that it works both as entertainment and as academic thesis. If you’re one of those people who gets a perverse sense of pleasure when a nearly-perfect album is disrupted by one or two bad songs, then you’re going to be disappointed in Darn Floor. If you can only buy one DA album, this is the one.

Swirling Eddies - Let’s Spin

Frustrated with the commercial failure of Darn Floor, Taylor put Daniel Amos to rest for a while and basically started a new band with the same guys. They all adopted fake names and new personalities, and one of the amazing things about Let’s Spin is the complete transformation of Taylor’s voice into his alter ego Camarillo Eddy’s. The Eddies were devoted to fun, sarcastic rock on their debut, and a more enjoyable slice of guitar-pop you won’t find anywhere. The album is concise, sharp and groovy, and it even manages to be surprisingly diverse. There’s the sweet pop of “Catch That Angel,” the lilting balladry of “What a World, What a World,” the slamming funk of “Rodeo Drive” and the Brian Wilson-esque “Ed Takes a Vacation (A Suite).” This is just the lighter side Taylor needed to show at the time.

Swirling Eddies - Outdoor Elvis

Outdoor Elvis is something of a logical extension of Let’s Spin, but it perhaps stretches the concept a bit thin. At 21 songs, it wears slightly, but you’ve got to admire the fact that it’s the most angry, sardonic work ever released on a Christian label. Just the song titles should tell the tale: “Attack of the Pulpit Masters,” “Blowing Smoke,” “Hide the Beer, the Pastor’s Here,” “Knee Jerk” and “Yer Little Gawd,” just to name a few. Elvis even ends with a snide tribute to Daniel Amos called “Elimination (The Band that Won’t Go Away).” It’s overly long, oddly cheap and simple, but somehow, it works.

Daniel Amos - Kalhoun

A frustratingly average return for DA, Kalhoun is nevertheless full of great tunes. If nothing else, this proves that an average Terry Taylor album is still better than many artists’ best work. It starts off just as angry and sarcastic as the Eddies’ material (“Big, Warm, Sweet Interior Glowing”) and ends with paintings of grace (“Note to Anna,” “Father Explains” and “The Gate of the World”). For all that, though, this defiant, quiet album still leaves you wanting more.

Lost Dogs - Scenic Routes

The Lost Dogs are Taylor, Mike Roe (77s), Derri Daugherty (The Choir) and the late, great Gene Eugene (Adam Again). Obviously inspired by the Traveling Wilburys, the foursome made an album that explores and celebrates American music. You get blues (“You Gotta Move”), country (“Built for Glory, Made to Last”), acoustic pop (“Amber Waves Goodbye”) and lovely folk (“The Fortunate Sons,” “Smokescreen”), all sung and played superbly. Sure, it’s a side project, and thus a bit of a mish-mash, but it’s more satisfying than Kalhoun in some ways.

Daniel Amos - Motor Cycle

A stunning return to form, Motor Cycle is one of the best DA records. It’s a colorful wonderland of sound that surrounds and supports some of Taylor’s best and most complex melodies. Side one contains six perfect pop songs, and side two is an eight-song interconnected suite. The production is magnificent, and the songwriting is Terry Taylor at his best. Hearing an album like Motor Cycle, eight years after its release, you wonder how something this good could have gotten by you. How this album didn’t set the world on its ear when it came out is beyond me.

Lost Dogs - Little Red Riding Hood

Another hodgepodge of styles from the Dogs, and one that’s just as good as their first. You get perfect, simple pop from Taylor (“No Ship Coming In”), sweet loveliness from Gene Eugene (“Jimmy”) and one of Mike Roe’s most beautiful songs (“Dunce Cap”), just to reference a few of the record’s 15 winners. Again, a side project, but here it was slowly becoming something more.

Daniel Amos - Bibleland

After the elaborate production of Motor Cycle, the DA boys stripped down and went live for this 12-song power pop festival. Don’t take that to mean that the songs are lacking, though. In fact, some of Taylor’s best energetic material is here, from the boiling fury of “Low Crawls and High Times” to the menace of “The Bubble Bursts” to the dynamic “I’ll Get Over It.” What could have been a footnote stands as one of the band’s best.

Swirling Eddies - Zoom Daddy

When is an Eddies album not an Eddies album? This is an exceedingly strange, slow, long simmer of an album that sounds like nothing else in Taylor’s catalog. The songs are all produced in a deliberate, bass-heavy slow burn that builds and builds, and when Taylor latches on to a great melody (like he does on “Pyro Sets a Wildfire”), the record springs to life. This is a difficult record, one that requires spin after spin to assimilate. It’s also home to some of Taylor’s most bizarre and oddly beautiful lyrics, and the first song is called “I Had a Bad Experience with the CIA and Now I’m Gonna Show You My Feminine Side,” so how bad could it be?

Daniel Amos - Songs of the Heart

Speaking of difficult records, there’s this jaw-dropping experiment. You know how, two decades in, some bands start producing music that sounds tired and worn out, in which the formerly great lead singer barely intones the lyrics? Well, DA did that on purpose here, as evidenced by later works in which Taylor was right back to his three-octave range. Songs of the Heart is the story of Bud and Irma Akendorf (stay with me here), a retired couple that takes one last vacation through decadent America. It’s a self-referential treatise on growing old, a state-of-the-country address and a heartfelt tribute to decency, all wrapped up in the strangest sound collages the band has ever released. (There’s a spoken-word piece called “Donna Nietzche and her Super Race of Kick Boxing Uber-Parrots,” for pity’s sake.) This one takes time.

Another quick note: in October, M8 is releasing a three-disc book set called When Everyone Wore Hats, which will delve deeper into this album.

Lost Dogs - The Green Room Serenade, Part One

More sprawling and electric than its two predecessors, The Green Room Serenade is the sound of four guys pulling in different directions to great effect. It clocks in at 75 minutes and contains some super tunes, including Roe’s “I Don’t Love You,” Taylor’s “Up in the Morning” and one of the best Gene Eugene songs, “Waiting for You to Come Around.” That song is worth the price of admission, as it my be Eugene’s finest hour. Sadly, there was never a Part Two, and with the passing of Eugene, it’s unlikely there ever will be one. (The Green Room is Eugene’s studio in Huntington Beach, California.)

Swirling Eddies - Sacred Cows

This bit of sacrilege is funnier and more enjoyable than it has any right to be. Basically a collection of 10 determinedly awful covers of old Christian pop tunes, it trashes with deadly accuracy the likes of Amy Grant, Stryper and Al Denson. You have to hear how they destroy Grant’s “Baby Baby,” and the lounge version of DC Talk’s “I Luv Rap Music” is worth any price. Essentially the final nail in the coffin of Taylor’s career with Christian labels.

Terry Scott Taylor - John Wayne

Taylor’s return to solo projects is a scathing, soul-searching effort that can stand with DA’s best work. It’s loud, abrasive, deep and contemplative, and it rocks. With so many satisfying projects, though, this one feels like more of the same, and that’s simply because there’s no gimmick. It’s just a collection of 10 great songs, played and sung in Taylor’s usual superb manner.

Lost Dogs - Gift Horse

This is the most consistent Dogs album, and there’s a reason for that: Taylor wrote all 11 songs. While that lends the record a coherence missing from the last three, you find yourself missing the slapdash quality the Dogs had up until this point. But only a little, because the songs are so good. Gift Horse is a country-rock record from first to last, and it includes some beauties, like “Diamonds to Coal,” “Rebecca Go Home” and the Derri Daugherty-sung “Honeysuckle Breeze.” It also contains “Ditto,” one of Taylor’s best stupid songs. As usual, all the Dogs play and sing like angels.

Terry Scott Taylor - Avocado Faultline

It had been leading to this for a while, so here is Taylor’s full-on country album. It’s twangy, silly and lovely, and is perhaps his most personal effort. With tunes like “Pie Hole” and “Pretend I’m Elvis (For Just One Night),” it’s certainly one of his most fun. It also contains “Papa Danced on Olvera Street,” his tribute to his father, who passed on soon after the album’s release. This is simple, sweet and melancholy, and it’s a side of Taylor he's never showed elsewhere.

Terry Scott Taylor - Imaginarium

How’s this for a stylistic leap? This two-disc set collects Taylor’s music for three video games (The Neverhood, Skullmonkeys and Boombots). It’s ridiculous gibberish accompanied by crazy horns and out-of-tune guitars, and it’s an amazing amount of fun. This is worth it, if for no other reason than to prove that Terry Taylor can do anything well.

Daniel Amos - Mr. Buechner’s Dream

DA’s first album in five years is a big fat wow, containing 33 songs and clocking in at 100 minutes. See the column for 7/18/01 for more info and raves.

Coming in October is the fifth Lost Dogs album, Real Men Cry. Terry Taylor just turned 50, and he continues to produce the best music he’s ever done, with no sign of slowing down.