On episode 5 of Past Prime, Matty and Steve head back into the Mystic to revisit the album that inspired their website and podcast to begin with -- Van Morrison's "A Sense of Wonder" (1985). The co-hosts admit that they both avoided this album because, first and foremost, it features one of the most unfortunate cover designs and wardrobe decisions ever printed. Van famously looks like a woodland creature on the front and like a Count or maybe Sancho Panza on the back cover. This album also marks a summation of Van's uneven early 80s work and a transition to his more poetic albums later in the decade. Although the music features far more cheesy reverb and New Age searching than Matty or Steve like, they admit that Van is almost always able to get that "feel" that he is so famous for. They do not rank "A Sense of Wonder" in the top 50% of his catalogue but they do admire his workmanlike approach to always following his muse and consistently cranking that albums in a search for the Slipstream. And -- yes -- they talk about the purple leisure suit from "The Last Waltz."

To read more about Van Morrison's "A Sense of Wonder," check out the full essay at Past Prime.

On episode 4 of Past Prime, Matty (reluctantly) and Steve (religiously) buckle up for the legendarily wild, bloated, melodramatic, 1993 smash "Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell." Written and produced by mad-scientist, Jim Steinman, and performed by his inimitable Frankenstein, Meat Loaf, the album is the sequel to 1977s triumph, "Bat Out of Hell." Steve is an elite Steinman-ologist while Matty has avoided this album for decades, in part because of Steve's devotion, which briefly bordered on addiction. The duo discuss how Steinman / Loaf music was born from the same seed as "Born to Run" and how the campy soap opera was decidedly intentional for Steinman but may have been less so for Meat Loaf. They sumo wrestle with the length and girth of the album and whether the "Rundgren cut" would have been better. Ultimately, however, the two middle-aged friends have to respectfully agree to disagree. Steve finally admits that he likes gold toilets and that this is his diamond-crusted gold toilet. And Matty admits that he loves Ben & Jerry's "Vermonsters" but that this sounds like a Vermonster topped with a Vermonster. In a touching moment, Steve agrees that he would be open to a shorter edit of the album and Matty apologizes for "yucking Steve's yum."

To read more about Meat Loaf's "Bat Out of Hell II: Back into Hell," check out the full essay at Past Prime.

On episode 3 of Past Prime, Matty and Steve confront the grit-less, flavorless, bottled water of James Taylor's 1988 album, "Never Die Young." Equal parts singer songwriter, dope fiend and Hippie-turned-Yuppie icon, Taylor and his music are confounding to our co-hosts. Like most of his 80's albums, "Never Die Young" sounds both like high end children's music and low end white R&B. It features a howling wolf on its cover but manages to avoid any semblance of a musical howl. Try as they may, Matty and Steve struggle to understand the appeal of the man and his music. Worse, in Taylor's musical complacency, our hosts stare down their very worst fears for their own middle age. Together, we travel from Taylor's signing to Apple Records in 1968, through his famous 70s albums and into his tepid 40s. Along the way, we get a lot of cheap jokes and snark but the singer remains impenetrable. Matty & Steve conclude that, like Tik Tok is for Gen Z, James Taylor was for the Boomers. To them, he is unknowable.

To read more about James Taylor's "Never Die Young," check out the full essay at Past Prime.

In episode 2 of Past Prime, Matt and Steve carefully (out of fear) discuss Lou Reed's 1982 solo album, "The Blue Mask." Considered by many to be his greatest album in between "Transformer" and "New York," it is definitely his most domestic, heterosexual, average-guy album. Lou got married and off drugs right before making this album. As a result, the music and the discussion wrestle with who is Lou Reed when he's just sitting at home with his wife, his motorcycle and his thoughts. Both Matty and Steve are confused by this version of Lou and, maybe, a little scared. Nevertheless, the album and the band represent a big departure from the music of Lou Reed before and after. At forty, and no longer sped up or opiated and not yet into his muscle shirts and Kung Fu phase, this Lou is just a suburban, Jewish poet, singing love songs to his wife while staving off the terror. Doesn't that sound fun? Join us!

To read the essay that inspired this episode, head over to Past Prime.

On the inaugural episode of Past Prime, hosts Matty and Steve discuss Alex Chilton's 1995 solo album, "A Man Called Destruction." At the time of its release, it was hailed as a long-awaited great work by the beloved former Big Star front man and legendary sad sack. Since his "should have been" days as a Power Pop master in the 70s, Chilton only managed to eek out a handful of half-baked records. Over time, his reputation as an artist became more apocryphal than based on recent evidence. And, although The Replacements, REM and a generation of College Rock icons adored him, it was fair to wonder if Chilton had anything left in the tank. Further, it was reasonable to conclude that Chilton may not have been the defining force in Big Star and that his bandmate Chris Bell was. By 1995, his cult and a new generation of followers were starved for something new and something (finally) great. Graded on the Big Star curve, many critics suggested that "A Man Called Destruction" was just that -- a late career validation of Chilton's talent. Twenty five years later, Matty and Steve return to the scene of the crime to consider whether all of that good will and all those reviews from 1995 were generous but wrong. Maybe "A Man Called Destruction" wasn't great. Maybe it wasn't even good. Maybe Chilton hadn't lost it. Maybe he never had it. Join our middle-aged wistfulness as we make peace with this sad fart of a record.

Learn more and read the Alex Chilton essay at Past Prime.