Unlike so many of their peers, Aerosmith haven’t
particularly been anthologized to death.
Given that their first album is about to turn forty, the amount of major
compilations in their discography doesn’t seem all that out of whack with their
popularity and longevity. As with the
compilations entry in my Cheap Trick series, I’m going to establish a couple of
ground rules for this round-up before we begin.
First off, I’m sticking specifically to domestic American releases this
time around, and for compilations that differ between their US and foreign
releases, all of my comments apply to the American configurations. I am also omitting all “truck stop”-style
titles; that is, strictly budget-ville releases generally sold at non-traditional
retailers. Generally speaking, artists
have no control over – or knowledge, more often than not – such releases. Got all that?
Good – now, with a yo-ho-ho and a ya-ka-ka-ka-kow, off we go.
Aerosmith’s Greatest Hits (Columbia, 1980)
Sure, its designed-for-vinyl length renders it all but
antiquated at this point, but I’m personally glad that this one remains a part
of the catalog. For people around my
age, this was sort of a rite of passage kind of thing, the album by which early
Aerosmith was first encountered. If you
were forced to condense Aerosmith’s first decade into a ten-song sampler, you
could hardly do better. Even the dubious
inclusion of “Remember (Walking in the Sand)” kind of works here in a way it
didn’t on Night in the Ruts, and I’ve
never really been able to quite figure out why.
Sometimes, there is something to be said for the simple and the direct,
and Aerosmith’s Greatest Hits is
living proof.
Gems (Columbia, 1988)
Birthed as both a deep-cuts companion to Aerosmith’s Greatest Hits and a way for
Columbia Records to cash in on the band’s spectacular rebirth as Geffen recording
artists, Gems is very similar to its
older brother. It’s both hopelessly
outmoded as a relic of the vinyl LP era, and still a great listen if you’re
more concerned with kicks than completism.
If I’m not mistaken, it remains the only place to digitally acquire the
original studio version of “Chip Away the Stone”, a fact which in and of itself
makes Gems worthy of at least a
used-bin pick-up.
Pandora’s Box (Columbia, 1991)
Aerosmith’s entry into the big boxed-set boom of the early ‘90s
was one of the better ones, in terms of listenability and
comprehensiveness. At the time of its
release, Pandora’s Box was criticized
in some corners for a relative lack of unreleased material, but that’s actually
one of the things that makes it such an enjoyable listen. Rather than being weighted down with
barrel-scrapings just for the sake of having x amount of PREVIOUSLY UNRELEASED TRACKS, Pandora’s Box instead limits the “new” stuff to material actually
worth hearing, and surrounds it with an intelligent, imaginative selection of ‘70s
classics. If one wanted a comprehensive
collection of ‘70s Aerosmith without actually buying all of the albums, Pandora’s Box delivers just that. Which, right, is precisely what a boxed set
is supposed to do. Well worth owning.
Big Ones (Geffen, 1994)
The Aerosmith’s
Greatest Hits of the band’s second coming: twice as long, half as
good. On the one hand, it does what it
says on the label, rounding up the biggest hits of their commercial
resurrection. On the other hand, well,
let’s just say that “Walk on Water” > “Love in an Elevator” > “Rag Doll”
isn’t exactly an opening sequence on par with “Dream On” > “Same Old Song
and Dance” > “Sweet Emotion” and leave it at that. Fair is fair, though: If you’re looking for
all the late ‘80s/early ‘90s smashes under one roof, you’ve come to the right
place.
Young Lust: The Aerosmith Anthology (Geffen, 2001)
Sort of a mini-box for the Geffen years, adding some deep
cuts and rarities to a fair amount of overlap with Big Ones. I’m sure the
rarities roundup proved useful to a handful of fans not particularly looking to
waste their time tracking down, say, the Air
America soundtrack a decade or so after the fact, but let’s be honest here:
this thing’s a contract fulfiller if there’s ever been one. [Later reissued with new artwork and title as
part of Universal Music’s Gold
series; musical content unchanged.]
O, Yeah! Ultimate Aerosmith Hits (Sony, 2002)
One of the better ones, and the first to cross-license from
the Geffen/Universal era for a full picture of the band’s career to date. To someone like me, ten-and-only-ten songs
from the ‘70s feels a bit skimpy, but then this isn’t aimed at someone like me.
It’s aimed at someone who likes most-or-all of the Aerosmith they’ve heard on
the radio. For that intended audience,
this will likely prove completely satisfying; at the end of the day, the worst
thing you can say about it is that the two new songs aren’t much to write home
about, and the inclusion of Just Push
Play’s title track is a little on the bizarre side. Still, as these things go, three out of
thirty ain’t bad, and O, Yeah Is the
one to get if the only Aerosmith you need is a good, solid compilation. [Later reissued with new artwork and title as
part of Sony’s Essential series;
musical content unchanged.]
Devil’s Got a New Disguise: The Very Best of Aerosmith (Sony,
2006)
O, Yeah collapsed into
a single disc, the ‘70s now relegated to merely five songs, and with the previous compilation’s two new tracks
replaced by two even newer, even lamer new ones. Utterly dispensable product, and the cover
art is ugly to boot.
Tough Love: The Best of the Ballads (Geffen, 2011)
American Idol
cash-in by Universal, thoroughly skewered over a year ago in this post right here.
Next week: solo albums and final thoughts.
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