Proto-punk rocker turned troubadour Cohen made his name in the early '60s with Charleston Grotto, who were then notorious on the LA club circuit. In the 40 years since, Cohen has amassed hundreds of his big-hearted, dog-eared tunes, which blend tiki lounge jazz, Weimar cabaret, psychedelia, lurching blues and boogaloo with dark humour and extraordinary pop finesse. The results-as championed by Tom Waits and John Zorn—vaguely recall Roky Erickson, but there's no hint of a talent tragically damaged here.
Diamond Dogs is often cited as the beginning of Bowie's cocaine psychosis period. In fact, it was recorded before he started giving Hitler salutes at railway stations and aggravating Eastern European customs officers with the books on Goebbels he carried in his rucksack, and now presents something of a field day for hindsight-lovers.
Dug by both new breed and old (from Horse Stories compatriot Toby Burke to Dylan), Kelly has long been Australia's foremost troubadour since emerging from Melbourne's mid-'70s punk scene with a solo ambition that first flourished on 1985's Post. Produced by Tchad (Tom Waits/American Music Club) Blake, this two-CD follow-up to 2001's Nothing But A Dream is smartly conceived. Disc one rattles and blows like Highway 61 ghost-ridden by Hank Williams, a tumble of bordello piano, pedal-steel and blustery guitars. Disc two is more spare, sort of Time Out Of Mind left out in the rain by Warren Zevon.
Kim Fowley's hoss is impossible to tether. Six-and-a-half-feet tall, resembling the worst nightmare in The Phantom Of The Paradise, too ugly for the agency, Fowley was born on the day Hitler invaded Poland. He grew up in the last Babylonian days of Tarnished Hollywood.
