Let's Look At Those Crazy Eyes Once More...Yup, It's Still Poco's Masterpiece

Often great art can come out of great uncertainty. Sometimes een out of great distress. And while these terms would be overselling the quagmire that Poco found itself in in 1973, it's still amazing that a group that had several major defections over the years that the group did their hands down best album while their founder and leader with an iron fist was quietly quitting on the band he had held in his grip for so long. When A Good Feelin' To Know the album did way worse than everyone thought and the title song - that everyone, and Furay first - thought would be a hit didn't even chart, Furay was done with Poco, at least in his mind. David Geffen oer at Asylum had bothered him for months now, telling him that Poco was never going to happen, and to come over to his label to team up with Chris Hillman and JD Souther and "do another Crosby, Stills and Nash". (Narrator: They did not). 

There was only one problem: Good old fashioned paperwork. When Furay was sent to Epic Records in the first sports-team style 'trade' in music biz history for Graham Nash going to Atlantic to form the just mentioned Crosby, Stills & Nash, he had signed for a certain number of albums, which was not yet fulfilled. So while Furay was gone spiritually, he still had obligations to fulfill and decided to stick with Poco for one last album before doing the supergroup thing Geffen had sold him on. During recording he didn't tell anyone in the group, only announcing that he was leaving while Crazy Eyes was prepped for release. By the time the record hit stores, Furay was gone. But in his wake he left Poco's masterpiece.

He was of course ably helped by the other members of the group, who no doubt felt Furay slipping away, or at least loosening his grip on the band's songwriting and decision-making that had already sent co-founder Jim Messina on his way. The first thing one realizes when listening to Crazy Eyes is how diminshed Furay's contributions are. He has three lead vocals, but only two credited songs. Common logic would dictate that that's because he was doing minimum service and keeping all his good songs for the future Asylum Records project. But unlike his future group mate Hillman - who admitted to doing all that for the Byrds reunion that brought him to Geffen in the first place - that is not true. For one thing, original closing number "Let's Dance Tonight" is one of his best Poco songs ever. The title song is an astonoshing accomplishment, a mini-symphony whose gradual construction is a joy to behold. And that song, a eulogy for Gram Parsons before the spiralling country rock star actually died probably led him to want to cover Parsons' "Brass Buttons". 

But yeah, the other guys really stepped up. Timothy Schmit had already upped his efforts on the previous album, but his "Here We Go Again" was a new high, and rightfully chosen as the album's lead single, even if once more success inexplicably eluded them. Paul Cotton has strong showings with pure country opener "Blue Water" and "A Right Along", plus a wonderful version of J.J. Cale's "Magnolia" that would become a band standard for the rest of its existence with Cotton in the band. Another thing that is marvelous is Jack Richardson's production work - from the echo on Furay's forlorn vocal on "Brass Buttons" to the way it highlights George Grantham's drum fills to the way "Crazy Eyes" builds from just some distant drums, revealing layer of layer of instruments during its gradual build up. Just marvelous stuff, after the arguably underproduced From The Inside and the overproduced A Good Feelin' To Know. Here Richardson and the band - with a huge assist by Bob Ezrin on the title cut - find just the right balance. 

But back to Furay for a second. While he did hold back a song like "Fallin' In Love" for the debut of the Souther-Hillman-Furay Band, he did contribute a new song, "Believe Me" that would finally show up on that album, but could've been on Crazy Eyes. The released SHF Band version is fine, but the looser, more expansive Poco version is fantastic. And he finally went on to record "Nothing's Still The Same", written in late 1969, yet somehow it didn't make either Poco or DeLIVErin', despite being one of his best compositions. One Buck Records vets will remember that Crazy Eyes has been featured here before, and no history will not be erased. I think the original write-up has its moments, but the little chronological Poco alt album series I am currently doing allowed me to take a deeper dive into some aspects of the album I didn't at the time, and both together give you a ton of insight into the original album and its One Buck Record incarnation.

You might have guessed, or, you remember, that the Crazy Eyes on these pages is a reworked alt album that adds four songs that were cut for it but not used, including the above mentioned Furay-tracks, Cotton's superior remake of an Illinois Speed Press song ("Get In The Wind") and a sprightly Rusty Young instrumental. There's lots of nerdy sequencing discussion in the old write-up, if that's your thing, so I'm not going to repeat all of this stuff here. Let me just say it once more. This is the way to listen to that album, as each reinstated number brings something to the table and the album is much more varied and runs way better in this imagined double vinyl album version. Seriously, this is the version of Crazy Eyes to have and hold, and treasure, and listen to repeatedly. It's a really good album in its original form, but I dare say without false modesty that my work pushes it into great album territory. 

It might've been Furay's last dance with the band he founded, and his untimely exit always has overshadowed its musical merits somewhat. But what could have been a lame duck uninspired contract filler album - at least as far as Furay was concerned - turned into something else entirely, especially in this expanded version: a new country rock masterpiece - nothing more, nothing less. 

Breaking News: One Buck Guy Gets Feisty, Listens To Modern Music, For Once...

 

...and I don't really plan to make a habit of it. But stranger things have happened I guess. Still, this obviously isn't music that would bother the charts or the, uh, airwaves (streamwaves?). If you are following this blog for a while, you must've surely heard me mention les soldes, the twice-a-year stock-clearing sales promotion that inevitably has the few stores who still have music sections throw out their unwanted stock. Most of it is crap (well, probably), but the fact that they throw out albums for a couple of bucks gives me the opportunity to take a flyer on something that looks interesting enough. If I were a younger, hipper guy I could of course whip out my smart phone in the store and pull up the artist whose album I have in hand. But that would be spoiling the fun, wouldn't it? Instead I try from scanning the covert art and song titles whether this could be something interesting. And that is how I fell on our One Buck Record of the day, SYML's The Day My Father Died. 

The cover art looked like it might be a folk record of some kind, and I recognized a couple of guest artists mentioned on the back cover (Elbow's Guy Garvey and Nickelcreek's Sara Watkins, whose solo debut I had picked up during the soldes a decade or so ago), so I figured this might be my jam. And it kind of sort of is, otherwise it wouldn't be up here, natch! SYML is Brian Fennell, an indie musician from the Pacific Northwest. 2023's The Day My Father Died is his second album, inspired by the death of his adoptive father. It has grief , heritage and loss as topics, but it never gets too maudlin. Which, given the fact that Fennell sometimes slips into a falsetto, was a real risk, bringing to mind the memory of Bon Iver. 

You guys remember Bon Iver? Justin Iver, one of the most overrated and overpraised projects of the early 2010s? I have excessively used the term young men's earnest sad sack music in the last months and plan to retire that term soon, but if it fits for something, it's Bon Iver's incredibly overhyped For Emma, Forever Ago, that came with its own picture perfect origin story of Vernon, after a romantic breakup, locking himself in an isolated cabin in the woods and coming up with a quote-unquote masterpiece of romantic despair. Except it sucked. No melodies, no memorable songs, and the awful strained falsetto made for an unpleasant listening experience, completely diametral to what the critics and their reviews promised. But I digress.

 So, SYML - Fennel's nom de plume recalls his Welsh heritage, 'siml' being the local varaint of 'simple' - is no Bon Iver, thank god. These songs have melodies, some of them quite memorable, too. They have structure and they are generally well sung, with the falsetto used sparingly. Not awful caterwauling here, no sir. What we do have here is a sort of modern folk-rock, possible close to what someone like Hozier is doing (I'm no expert in the matter, mind). It also turns out he had a bonafide hit somewhat similar to what he is up to on this album. "Where's My Love?" was featured in Teen Wolf, and then numerous teen-oriented TV series from 2018 onwards and is now certified Platinum, whatever that means in the streaming age. Of course, I was cmpletely oblivious to this man and any successes he might've had when I picked this up. 

So, how do we know this truly is modern music, even with its folk-rock twist? Because my then seven year old loved it, demanding I play the song she liked to sing a long all the 'oweo--o-o-o-o-o' of the title song, the lyrics of which she happily doesn't understand, though she's phonetically singing along "...the day my father died" (gulp!). It's a big song with a big hook, yet was never released as a single. It's also not alone on the album as The Day My Father Died has enough 'oweo's' and other stadium-ready singalong elements, and some light electronics. You know, for the young'uns. On the other hand, his music clearly has its origins in DIY folk - thus the Bon Iver comparison - so people who like classic, guitar-based acoustic music should also give a listen. A song like "Sweet Home" reminds recalls the era of Crosby, Stills & Nash, even if one-man band SYML harmonizes with himself. 

If you noticed the little One Buck Records logo on the cover or the tags, you'll see that this is my personal version of the album. I thought the original never really got out of the starting gates, only picking up steamm occasionally, so I resequenced the album from the ground up. I also thought it was a little long and repetitive, so I deleted two tracks, incidentally two of the features (bye bye Lucius, bye bye Sara!). At a now vinyl era-compatible 47 minutes and with a much improved flow, I think SYML's The Day My Father Died is an album well worth listening to, even if - like me - you have given up on modern music trends a hile ago. The Day My Father Died combines modern and retro elements in what I find is a very attractive manner. Check this out to see if you feel the same way...

Hotdang, Them Bluegrass Chartbusters Are Back In Town Once More...

...and after visiting our All Pearls, No Swine last week, here's the other long running series at One Buck Records, for your fill of fiddles, banjo, guitar, mandolin and dobro, should the sudden need arise. And arise it should, because once more we have a vey fine collection of very fine bluegrass music assembled here, all in between the sweet spot of humming along as if it was the original on the radio, while admiring (hopefully) how the song has been transformed into a bluegrass tune. I don't know who said it, but it's been said that to check out if a song is any good, pay it as a bluegrass tune, and if it works, then that's a good tune. And this test is passed by all twenty tracks on here, as well as the army of bluegrass bands doing them. 

The same beloved series stalwarts are all here, along with another batch of newcomers: AJ Lee with Blue Summitt (pictured below) for example, who will show up again, here taking on Sheryl Crow's "Soak Up The Sun". Roots music vet Tony Trishka shows up with Billy Strings in tow, as they do a mammoth version of "Gentle On My Mind". Both will show up in this series again. There's also a one-off in the bunch: TGO with "Livin' On A Prayer" that handily beats the Pickin On... version. 

Favorite cuts on this volume include the Gras Cats' take on Steve Earle's outlaw classic "Copperhead Road", Love Canon's "Solsbury Hill" and Iron Horse's version of Guns'n'Roses' "Patience". There is also another bluegrass version of an Imagine Dragons song ("Demons") which is pretty great, which means I now know and like more bluegrass covers of that band than songs that they did. 

Artists covered on this volume that i haven't mentioned yet: Lucinda Williams! Cyndi Lauper! Def Leppard! Kiss! Dire Straits! Barenaked Ldie! Hell, even dumb-ass Kid Rock (thankfully, that track is instrumental...)! Double hell, even freakin' Nickelback! These songs might be terrible in their original version for all that I know, but as bluegrass cuts they are very good. 

So, all of this is to say: Throw on that straw hat and them overalls, and throw them feet in the air while y'all get to dance'n'holler to them Buegrass Chartbusters once more...  

Mom, There's Some Beardo Weirdos Here, And It Ain't Even Christmas Yet...

If I were a hundred percent the music snob that my more mainstream music-minded college buddies say I am, this comp would probably look something like this: Gather some of the deep cuts from ZZ Top's first decade as that 'lil' ol' blus band from Texas', maybe top the whole thing of with some choice cuts from their mid-90s to today work, when they renewed the rowdy blus and barroom boogie of their beginnings, and certainly stay away a mile from their charts successes and music of the 80s, when that lil' red ZZ Top Eliminator ran on sequencers, electronic drums and tech effects over everything. 

But, you know, I'm not as much of a hipster as it seems, and it just so happens I forgot my hipster card today, together with my streaming service subscription and my social media accounts. So obviously I'm gonna run straight into the opposite drection of what an acceptable ZZ Top compilation would look like! That ol' OBG and that lil' ol' blues band from Texas - a match made in machine heaven. 

As for the weird-looking title, what can I tell you...that's how the comp is in my collection, so that's probably how it will be in yours. The first Greatest Hits is the original Greatest Hits of ZZ Top, though I did add "Stages", their best pop tune. A couple of years later, my dad bought the double disc anthology Rancho Texicana, of which I took most of the tracks I didn't have and that weren't on the first volume to make a Greatest Hits Vol. 2. Which of course means that this will be comp number three, and thus Greatest HIIIts...And Missus. Hopefully not too many misses. because this album is definitely not doing what you think it might be doing, picking up the best of the rest. Hell, to be fair the Greatest Hits moniker is somewhat of a lie, done so that my Greatest Hits series can continue. 

This isn't really a Greatest Hits comp - even taking the skeezey-looking Vol. 3 into account - because what I wanted to do with this is probably quite different from what a lot of other people want from their ZZ Top. As said above, I wasn't around when the 'little'ol blues band from Texas' started to make a name for itself in the early 70s, neither for their unexpected and improbable, if short-lived stint as weirdly admirable hipsters following the success of 1983's Eliminator. But those ZZ Top, who chain drummer Frank Beard to a sequencer and load up the keyboards and Fairlights, those are my ZZTop, for better or worse. ZZ Top? More like ZZ Pop, am I right? So, in order to compile this album, I actually had to dig for something that any ZZ Top fan would tell you should stay buried. Like, six feet under buried.

After the breakthrough of Eliminator and the relative success of carbon copy Afterburner, the record company and the band decided, that if folks were interested in checking out more ZZ Top, they should be able to do that in the CD format. Except that the first five ZZ Top albums, plus 1981's eperimental El Loco had never made it onto a digital disc. Ready to give the fans what they thought they would want, and following the little-known doctrine 'Fix if it ain't broke 'til it's broke', the band added new electronic drum effects and treated guitar, so the old blues albums would sound more like thne-contemporary ZZ Top. This was obviously an affront for old fans of the band, who recoiled in horror when The Sixpack came out in 1987, and those old albums didn't sound anything like they did originally. 

Old school fans were aghast and despite its ubiquity in the late 80s and early 90s, The Sixpack was easily one of the most hated big archival releases of a major band. But, as I said: That sound is my ZZ Top sound, and so I went on the hunt for The Sixpack, which got deleted in the early 200s, though it took another ten years or so until finally all the songs off the old albums came out in their original form in the early 2010s. Happily, a blog concentrating on 80s music, and I mean really 80s sounding music, had a copy of that box set, which is the foundation of most of Greatest HIIIts...And Missus. So, if you're a ZZ Top or blues-rock purist, stranger, you might want to bypass this. 

If, like me, however, the synth-tech, almost New Wave-sound of early-to late 1980s ZZ Top is your thing, as it is mine, then by all means stick around. In order to not make the title a complete lie, I included their three biggest hits, a.k.a. the three big Eliminator singles, in later live versions. And I added a couple of more old-school sounding tracks, after the band slowly stripped away the excesses of the mid-80s in the early 1990s: 1994's "Breakaway" and "I Gotsta Get Paid" from 2012s La Futura, the last album made with Dusty Hill, and also their last studio album to date, which it will probably stay. By this time, Gibbons' voice has definitely gotten a good bit (okay, fine, a lot) more husky and rough, but still, one of the highlights of their very mixed 21st Century output. 

A couple of times on these pages you've heard about a single disc comp growing completely out of proportions and becoming a two-disc proposition, but this is one of the rare cases where I actually deleted some tracks for a better overall flow and listenability. This has so far in One Buck Records history only happened with the first compilation of Aerosmith's Geffen era material. Like Aerosmith, ZZ Top have their own style and groove, and if you're down with those, you can have a fabulous time, but like the Glimmer Twins & bandmates, it's a relatively limited sound. They have a little more variety than notorious three riff band AC/DC (even if it's really good three riffs), but there still is a sameyness here that could get a little tiresome as the original comp crept easily over the 70 minute mark. So I deleted four tracks and completely reworked the sequencing into what I think is now a really neat and pretty hot 64 minute affair. That's probably about as much ZZ Top as one can take in one listen.

So, Greatest HIIIts...And Missus maybe isn't what you'd expect from the band, but is possibly still worth a listen to what is now a double anachronism. You might not have wanted these songs in these versions in the first place, but now a comp like this is the only place to listen to them. So, if you're courageous, leave your hipster cards also at the door, and rejoin 70s ZZ Top in their glammed up 80s suits...

I Went To Sea Today, So You'll Also Get To Go To Sea Again...

I didn't necessarily think I'd repost this again today, but, you know, life. I am currently on holidays, enjoying a couple of days by the sea. Which means that from time to time by the ocean, I began to sing or hum one of my beloved Gordon Lightfoot shanties, mostly "Christian Island" or parts of the "Seven Island Suite". And, well, guess where I went today? Why, around the seven islands, of course! Not Gordo's seven islands, of course. Of the coast here - which carries the interesting - and fitting! - name Pink Granite Coast, because the stone is, well, granite of a pinkish color. It's a really localized thing, only 8 km of shoreline form the Pink Granite Coast. And in front og that coast, there is a small archipelago called les sept isles, the seven islands, which are a protected nature reserve mostly made from inhabitable rock, inhabited by a dozen different species of birds - including hundreds of gannets and dozens of puffins - and a family of seals. 

So, obviously I hummed and partially sang "Seven Island Suite" for the rest of the day, which was spent on the beach. And one side effect is obviously, that getting to our holiday home, I had to put on some Gordon Lightfoot. And now that I'm close to the sea, so will you, if you hav'nt checked out my little compilation of Lightfoot's seafaring songs, Shanties. As before, ten fine tracks including classics like "The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald", "High And Dry" and the aforementioned tracks. 

So, set sail again with Mr. Lightfoot. And of course there will be new music coming your way this weekend. Now, bring me that horizon...

The Warehouse Is Empty, But All Pearls, No Swine Still Shine In The Sun...

Aaaaaaaaaand this is where I finally run out of stock in terms of All Pearls, No Swine. This volume was compiled sometime last year, as I slowly tried to regrow the wealth of APNS volumes I had when I started this lil' blog adventure. Then again, that was *checks notes* 30 months ago, so even if I was saving up on APNS in the last months, posting about one and a half (statistically speaking) per month, the stock is finally at zero. Fear not, the archives are still full of stuff, but I have to compile and knock this stuff in shape again. Off to work, lazy ol' OBG!

Meanwhile, enjoy All Pearls No Swine Vol. 38, in which we visit the 90s for a third time. And boy, is this volume 90s. As with the other volumes, the 90s - one of the decades I lived through as an active music listener - is less about the musical archaeology that defines the 70s-set volumes, where I dig through tons of obscure and little known stuff to find the pearls. The 90s sets are a mix of some obscurities, chart entries that were and are maybe underappreciated and the occasional 'bubbling under' alternative rock track. In the case of this compilation, there are a lot of the latter ones. It's almost like a hipster hitparade kind of thing. We got James, Mazzy Star, The Mabuses, Compulsion and The Sundays, among others. Not to mention the mighty La's with the classic "There She Goes", for my money still the best jingle-jangle revival song of all times. 

Of the 'underappreciated chart entries' we could cite Martika, who followed up her breakthrough debut album with something more serious, which obviously meant collaborating with Prince, who used her lyrics to craft "Love Thy Will Be Done". Still a wonderful song and single, that was even a US top ten hit at the time but seems almost forgotten today, much like its singer. Dubbed the hispanic Madonna, when her self-titled debut with number one hit "Toy Soldiers" exploded in 1988, she walked away from the music industry in 1992 even before all the singles from follow-up Martika's Kitchen had been issued, citing a burnout and the pressures of fame. "Sailing On The Seven Seas" came out pretty much around the same time as "Love...Thy Will Be Done", and even became a Top 3 hit in the UK and a top ten hit in a number of European countries, while bubbling under in the US. Lead singer Andy McCluskey was leading a whole new group under the old Orchestral Manoeuvers In The Dark moniker, which didn't please everybody at the time, but it's a wonderful dance-rock stomper that deserves to be rediscovered.  

Another throughline for this volume: Great cover versions! Who doesn't love great cover versions? Here we got three: Sinead O'Connor's outstanding take on "Ode To Billie Joe", Mary Lou Lord's acoustic reinvention of Van Halen's "Jump" and The Afghan Wigs' groovy take on TLC's "Creep". 

On the vet watch in this volume: Alice Cooper, who sings the anthemic "Stolen Prayer" with its author Chris Cornell. Glenn Frey with the quite lovely "Brave New World", John York with the wonderful comp closer "Lady On The Highway" and Tom Waits with the ultra atmospheric and weirdly reassuring "Hold On". There's also the reformed Flying Burrito Brothers, by now in - I'm not joking - its 48th (!!!)  incarnation, trying to be hip with the alt country crowd by covering Son Volt's "Windfall" a mere two years after the original came out. [I'm not sure how many noticed, but I originally announced this song for APNS Vol. 34, the last 90s-set volume, in that volume's write-up and to my surprise find that there is a "Windfall" on that collection, but it's the Son Volt original. Huh. I mean great song, good for that volume - whose write up is now changed - but that's a weird mix up, as I originally only had the Burritos "Wiindfall" in my APNS 9Os folder]

So, you know, the usual: smorgasboard of diverse stuff, all good. Same as it ever was. As All Pearls, No Swine slide into an unknown future, enjoy this throwback to the 90s...

Let's Look At Poco's Inside...From The Outside

Part two of our Poco alt album project, with the direct follow-up - in terms of studio albums - to Poco's second album, recently reworked as You Better Think Twice. In the meantime, the second big shakeup of Poco - and it would it not be the last one - happened in between. In 1968 Poco (then Pogo) was the brainchild of Richie Furay and Jim Messina, who worked as a producer on the last Buffalo Springfield album Last Time Around. But by 1970 things had changed quite a bit. Richie Furay's worsening jealousy of all the more successful bands that had bypassed Poco and his tightening grip on Poco in terms of dominating the songwriting and decision-making had left Jim Messina really fed up, with the worsening tensions between the co-founders leading to them abandoning a planned follow-up album in the summer of 1970, instead focusing on culling a live album from their concets that would become the classic DeLIVEring. 

But Messina had made up his mind to leave the band, tired of the relentless touring as well as the terse discussions with Furay. He wanted to retire from road life and performing and go back into producing, a plan that was almost immediately scuttled when the work with his first client Kenny Loggins took an unexpected turn. But that's another story. Messina's exit from Poco was an uncommonly graceful one. Messina himself handpicked his successor, Paul Cotton of The Illinois Speed Press, and stayed on for a couple of weeks - with Poco as a six piece - to go on the road and teach Cotton the songs. He also had another graceful surprise for Furay in store, that we will get to later. 

As a newly reconstructed five-piece Poco finally went to work on their third studio album, with Cotton bringing, as planned, a harder-edged rock sound to the band, especially on the charging "Railway Song". Furay still dominated the songwriting, with six of the 11 original tracks rom his pen, including should-have-been classics "You Are The One" and "Just For Me and You". But Poco immediately became more democratic, with new arrival Cotton getting three songs and Timothy Schmit finally landing a song on an album, which even got the honor of becoming the title song. So, everything looked good for From The Inside...and yet, it wouldn't be Poco if it were easy. 

From The Inside was recorded in the Trans Maximus Inc. studios in memphis with Steve Cropper in the producer's chair, and the band was (in)famously unhappy with the recording and production. The control room wasn't immediately reachable from the studio recording space and the studio didn't have enough multitracks for the taste of the band. It's true that the sound of From The Inside is a bit unusual, a drier, more rustic sound than what the band was used to. If you really want to hear, say George Grantham's drumming, From The Inside is the album for you. But it's also true that this slightly swampier sound probably wasn't a good fit for the band, though only the odd rhythm and vocals of "Do You Feel It Too?" stick out as egregious. 

Unusual production or not, From The Inside is indeed a bit of a breakthrough, finally achieving and finessing the country-rock sound they were after on their first two albums, and came close to on DeLIVEring. This album, however, is not From The Inside. Call it an alternate look at the period. From The Outside In. It sort of picks up the (missing) pieces of the period, collecting a bunch of stray tracks from the period: Studio versions of "C'Mon" and "A Man Like Me" that were orphans from the abandoned third studio album, replaced by DeLIVEring, as well as a remix of Schmit's "From The Inside" and the aforementioned parting gift from Jim Messina, who does a lead vocal cameo on From The Outside In. As a surprise for  Furay and his wife for the baby shower of their first daughter, Messina and the band played "Lullaby In September". It's a little maudlin, but a beautiful goodbye gift of the gracious Messina. 

The rest of the tracklist is supplied by Live From Columbia Studios, an intimate record showcase for music executives, where the band played the majority of From The Inside songs. To fit in with the rest of the tracks, I got rid of the audience applause, so that From The Outside In works more or less as an alternate version of From The Inside, not to replace the real thing, but as an 'what if' companion piece. These live versions have a spontaneity and sprightliness that their studio counterparts lack and thus function as a different, more immediate look on these songs. By late 1971 Poco were a well-honed live act, and it shows in their playing here. From 1971 onwards they were launching what was easily the best part of their career. One which we will have a further look at in the next volume of our little Poco series, but for now, dive into From The Outside In, to see what the boys were up to in mid-to-late 1970 and early 1971.