The literary world has been on fire this week as critics, fans and retailers focus on the release of Go Set A Watchman, the prequel/sequel to To Kill A Mockingbird, one of the most beloved novels of the 20th Century. The reason? Writer Harper Lee had long declared that she had no intention to publish another novel after Mockingbird, so many feared the worst when her lawyer miraculously found Watchman—which had been written before her classic—and turned it over to publishers as the author's health continued to decline and her sister/primary caretaker had died just months earlier. Was Lee being taken advantage of? No one can say for sure, but the industry isn't complaining: The book had the highest one-day sales of an adult novel in Barnes & Noble history.
The reviews? Not so hot. At best, critics have clarified that this was written prior to Mockingbird, which was ultimately an improved version of the original, and therefore is at least curious to consider in context. At worst, people are disgusted with the product. The New York Times described it as a "fraud," and "one of the epic money grabs in the modern history of American publishing." Well then. We can't comment, having not read the book yet, but we know that compilations released as performers age, or posthumously, can be just as controversial in music. Some are truly excellent (Johnny Cash) but the releases below are the opposite.
Crash Landing by Jimi Hendrix (1975)
There were several album compiled from Hendrix's untouched catalogue immediately following his death, and they went over without a hitch. Granted, they weren't Are You Experienced? but they didn't suck either. That was all until Crash Landing emerged. It was the first album in the legendary guitarist's catalogue to be produced by Alan Douglas. He was totally qualified for the job, however several of his decisions during the creation of the final product were highly controversial. Most notably, he used session musicians to rerecord some of the guitar parts and overdubs. Such processes are common in recording an album, but usually you have the original musician do it, and normally that musician isn't Jimi Hendrix. The concept seemed like, and was, sacrilege. Better to have no album than an album with other fingerprints all over it. To add insult to injury, Douglas added his name as a songwriter for his contributions.
Made In Heaven by Queen (1995)
If you had told us that Queen would continue its musical career for another two decades after the death of Freddie Mercury, we would have called you crazy. Granted, Adam Lambert isn't quite the talent that the original vocalist was (and we don't mean that as an insult), but it just seemed ludicrous to replace someone as charismatic as Mercury. The band may have bounced back a little soon however, even if Made In Heaven was released four years after their bandmate's death. If the band were to release a new collection of songs today, with Lambert at the fore, that wouldn't be an issue. But there was a reason why Made In Heaven didn't make it to vinyl during Mercury's lifetime: They didn't live up to the band's standards. It's tough in an era where rarities and B-sides are more easily available to decide when NOT to release something, and Queen dropped the ball on this one.
Until the End of Time by Tupac Shakur (2001)
There are two ways to interpret the name of this album: A) Tupac Shakur's hip-hop legacy will continue until the end of time or B) the music industry will continue to release new compilations of Shakur's albums until the end of time. Neither is necessarily incorrect. Unfortunately Shakur's posthumous releases have travelled in the opposite direction of Johnny Cash's: While the latter's new collections—from the American series to Out Among The Stars—have continued to thrill us, none of the work released from Shakur's archives have lived up to what he did in life. Once again, he probably realized that the content featured on albums such as Until The End of Time didn't live up to the standards of legendary albums such as All Eyez On Me or Me Against The World. Such things just weren't meant to reach our ears.
Duets: The Final Chapter by The Notorious B.I.G. (2005)
By the time 2005 rolled around, music labels may have realized that simply throwing out another collection of Shakur or Notorious B.I.G. compilation wasn't enough to generate interest. That generated the ambitious and questionable idea to release a collection of duets, featuring vocals recorded by Biggie, combined with today's biggest stars singing "alongside" him. The idea wasn't entirely bad, especially when it brought in talent on a similar level with the emcee, such as Jay Z, Eminem and Clipse. But then there were three levels of bad:
"Meh": Taking rappers not on Biggie's level and trying to make it work, a la Nelly or Jim Jones.
"Questionable": Taking recordings of Bob Marley and then mashing it together with Biggie to create a duet of two dead stars singing to each other.
"Absurd": Letting Korn step in to perform with the Notorious B.I.G.
Xscape by Michael Jackson (2014)
Michael Jackson was a notoriously tough customer to please, so you know that if it didn't see an actual album, the auteur couldn't have been that thrilled with it. Granted, the first chapter of posthumous releases from the performer, Michael, wasn't half-bad. Unfortunately, Xscape was more than half-bad. Epic lured us in with "Love Never Felt So Good," a skillfully constructed duet between Jackson and Justin Timberlake. It was all downhill from there however. Second single "A Place With No Name" was far from the creativity we expect from Jackson, just a knock-off of America's hit "A Horse With No Name." Go later into the album and find "Blue Gangsta," a bizarre attempt by Jacko to come across as street-savvy (not nearly as effective as "Bad") and "Do You Know Where Your Children Are," which sounds like it was a public service announcement recorded during 1987. Oh wait, it was totally recorded during 1987.
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