Another day, another Kansas compilation, right? Well, wrong actually. True, there have been a few collections of the band’s material over the years, but none remotely as comprehensive as this weighty three-disc, 41-track roundup turns out to be. It’s a fitting time to deliver such an expansive set, with the band’s debut album now an incredible half a century old! However, there is one real curveball which has been tossed in with this particular collection: bravely, and intriguingly, it is presented in reverse. The first disc starts at the present, and the material moves back chronologically, with the final disc ending up with three tracks from the debut. It’s a move which could easily have blown up in their faces, as one would imagine that the majority of listeners – at least of the more casual variety – would make a beeline for the 1970s stuff from the band’s commercial and artistic peak, but in actual fact it works. And the reason for that success is simple: essentially, the band have performed a remarkable creative renaissance in recent years, with the past few albums representing easily the best material they have put out since the ’70s. Clearly, the current band have more than enough confidence in this recent output to want it placed front and centre, and as a way of digging through the unfamiliar to reach the final treasure it works extremely well. It’s a bit like eating the vegetables before reaching the meat – except that some of the vegetables turn out to be sublime in their own right. True, there are a few overdone sprouts in there, but we’ll get to them. Let’s start at the beginning – or should we say, at the end…
In a nod back to the band’s roots right from the off, the first track is in fact a 2022 re-recording of Can I Tell You – the opening song from the very first album 50 years ago. It’s a professional, smooth reworking, though it could be argued to be something of a gimmick, shoe-horned in to present a ‘full circle’ appearance, and the real stuff comes up after that opener. The two tracks from the most recent album The Absence Of Presence – the title track and Throwing Mountains – are both superb selections from what is an exceptionally strong album throughout. The three tracks from the preceding The Prelude Implicit keep up that very high standard, and it’s clear that the risky reverse sequencing is paying off, as the album comes out of the blocks like Usain Bolt after ten cans of Red Bull. Following that we go back a full 16 years to the ‘reunion album’ Somewhere To Elsewhere in 2000, but the transition sonically is so seamless that you’d scarcely realise it. All three selections from that album are high quality, with Icarus II – a sequel of sorts to the original 1975 classic Icarus (Borne On Wings Of Steel) – being particularly impressive, taken from the point of view of a wartime fighter pilot with a beautifully crafted lyric. After those it’s back into the 1990s, though indirectly to the ’70s, as we get two tracks from the album Always Never The Same, which saw vintage Kansas material re-recorded with the London Symphony Orchestra. It’s a surprisingly strong album throughout, and the versions of The Wall and a sublime Dust In The Wind are both tremendous. The disc wraps up with two tracks from 1995’s rather weaker Freaks Of Nature album – neither bad, but also neither as strong as the rest of the disc. Still, that slight dip aside, it’s a cracker of an opening disc, and as timely a reminder as you could get that the latest couple of Kansas decades have been as close as you could get to matching their first.
Disc Two is the tricky area in the mix – the 1980s weren’t the kindest decade to Kansas, and that unavoidably shows here, with everything originating between 1988 and 1979. This disc actually differs between the US and European versions of the album, owing to licensing issues. The long and short of that is that the US release omits anything from the two albums featuring Steve Morse on guitar (1988’s In The Spirit Of Things and 1886’s Power), which came out on MCA. To put it bluntly, they don’t miss much, as those two albums stray as far from the band’s proggy roots as they ever did; Rainmaker is a fairly strong entrant, but the other four selections from these albums are very weak. Steve Morse is certainly a fine guitarist, of that there can be no question – but he was about as good a fit for Kansas as a meerkat in a game of hide and seek: everywhere you turn he pops up with a shredding run or wailing string-bend, and it’s a dreadful mismatch. House On Fire and Secret Service are the worst of the four, but unless you want your Kansas to be a mix of Foreigner and hair-metal, all are skippable. 1983’s Drastic Measures fares better, with Incident On A Bridge and particularly End Of An Age being much more like it, showing the hand of Kerry Livgren all over them in most welcome fashion. Step back a year to 1982’s Vinyl Confessions, however, and things get patchy again with three selections of wildly varying quality. Crossfire, after an undistinguished opening, develops into a superb instrumental section which illustrates perfectly how the band’s slicker sound by this time could still work wonders for them. Of the other two, however, Windows is fairly weak, while Play The Game Tonight is an utter, unmitigated disaster, as the band blithely abandon everything which made them great in an embarrassing grab for slick ’80s modernity and a glossy commercial sheen, and fail in every single way possible. It’s the worst song here by some margin – and on this disc there is some competition. 1980’s Audio Visions is another album often reviled by the fanbase, and it’s easy to see why as the three tracks here never hit the heights. Hold On is a reasonable stab at a catchy anthem of sorts, but Loner and No One Together drift by without leaving so much as a footprint in the listener’s brain. The disc finally closes with 1979’s Monolith, with that album’s opening track On The Other Side so powerful and stirring that it comes as a massive breath of fresh air as you sigh to yourself ‘Ah! That’s what we’ve been missing!’ It’s classic Kansas for sure, though selecting the hopeless How My Soul Cries Out For You as the other offering from that fine album seems baffling.
A sticky disc for much of its duration, for sure – but fear not, Disc Three is coming into view carrying a huge cargo of dyed-in-the-wool classics, kicking off with Carry On Wayward Son itself. They’ve picked the live version from 1978’s Two For The Show album, which could possibly be so that its date means it opens the disc, whereas the original studio cut would come along later. No matter, as it’s a fine version anyhow, and only paves the way for twelve tracks of prime Kansas, including timeless cuts such as Portrait, Sparks Of The Tempest, Magnum Opus, Icarus, Song For America, Death Of Mother Nature Suite and Journey From Mariabronn among them. There are a couple of eyebrow-raising moments – the inclusion of The Devil Game, Down The Road and the oddly-titled Belexes at the expense of Point Of Know Return, Cheyenne Anthem or Lamplight Symphony for example is certainly odd, but perhaps the occasional less celebrated cut is an interesting idea, and certainly nothing here is out-and-out weak.
Overall, this collection does a fine job of portraying the 50 warts-and-all years of Kansas. Certainly the second disc is a clear and obvious weak spot for the most part, but for a full career retrospective that ’80s period has to be covered, and at least they have found a handful of standouts among the fog. The third disc of vintage 1970s stuff is as good as you’d expect it to be, while the opening disc from the present day back to the mid-’90s is nothing short of revelatory. Think of this as a classic double album with a bonus disc in the middle of the sandwich – all in all it makes a most satisfactory meal…
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