Who is Janis Joplin

More than Cheap Thrills or even Pearl, Greatest Hits has helped keep Janis Joplin's short-lived recording career alive for listeners who came along after her 1970 death. "Me and Bobby McGee" is the biggest draw, of course--it was a posthumous No. 1 single--but the rest is equally exciting. Despite the familiarity of the titles here, this goes far beyond the merely serviceable. Finally, the cover photo of Janis smiling in a sunny park is as poignant a shot of her as exists. -- Rickey Wright

The vintage concert footage alone makes Festival Express a memorable and worthwhile endeavor, offering scintillating performances by Janis Joplin, the Band (their rollicking version of "Slippin' and Slidin'" is particularly mind-blowing), the Grateful Dead, Buddy Guy, and others (remember Mashmakhan?).

In 1970, during the heyday of the rock festival, promoter Ken Walker decided to organize a traveling musical revue, bringing the mountain to Mohammed, as it were. In five days' time, the festival played in three Canadian cities with the entire conglomeration traveling, playing, and getting smashed together the whole way. Nearly as rewarding as the live performances are the candid scenes of the train ride itself, an endless jam session and party during which musicians of all shapes and sizes let their hair down--musically and otherwise.

The contemporary interviews with Walker and some of the surviving musicians aren't particularly noteworthy, except as a way to prove that it all actually happened. Walker comes off as a hero in the film: he treated the musicians like royalty and insisted that the train roll on even though he was losing his shirt. (His financial failure is a large reason why this material stayed in the vaults for so long.)

Perhaps the most remarkable scene is an off-the-cuff, LSD-fueled train jam featuring Janis Joplin, the Band's Rick Danko, and the Dead's Jerry Garcia playing the old chestnut "Ain't No More Cane." Danko is so obliterated that even Janis has to ask him if he's OK--when Janis is worried about your state of mind, you must be pretty messed up. --Marc Greilsamer

Festival Express is a rousing record of a little-known, but monumental, moment in rock n' roll history, starring such music legends as Janis Joplin, The Band, and the Grateful Dead. Set in 1970, Festival Express was a multi-band, multi-day extravaganza that captured the spirit and imagination of a generation and a nation. What made it unique was that it was portable; for five days, the bands and performers lived, slept, rehearsed and did countless unmentionable things aboard a customized train that traveled from Toronto, to Calgary, to Winnipeg, with each stop culminating in a mega-concert. The entire experience, both off-stage and on, was filmed but the extensive footage remained locked away -- until now. A momentous achievement in rock film archeology, Festival Express combines this long-lost material with contemporary interviews nearly 35 years after it was first filmed.

Such was the visceral power of Janis Joplin's voice that her enduring legend as '60s rock icon was based on just a pair of solo albums and the two releases with her fronting Big Brother and the Holding Company that she recorded before her death in 1970 of a drug overdose. This 30-track double-disc anthology offers a concise introduction to the incendiary talents of a singer whose tortured blues seemed no mere affectation; being cruelly voted "Ugliest Man on Campus" during her tenure at the University of Texas barely hinted at the depth of Joplin's personal demons. Organized chronologically with its discs split between her band and solo careers, the anthology documents the story of a raw, riveting talent that carried the often slovenly psychedelic blues of Big Brother to stardom via "Down on Me" and "Piece of Heart," stumbled only slightly on her solo debut (I Got Dem Ol' Kozmic Blues Again Mama), and then reached full, ragged glory on the quintessential Pearl with tracks like her posthumous hit "Me and Bobby McGee" and the playful "Mercedes Benz." The collection also features a pair of previously unreleased live Big Brother tracks ("To Love Somebody," "Kozmic Blues") recorded at Woodstock '69. --Jerry McCulley

This underrated 1969 recording was Janis Joplin's first solo studio album after she left Big Brother & the Holding Company. One objection at the time of its release centered on the horn section, which Big Brother loyalists were determined to hate to death. Moreover, the aggregate of musicians backing Joplin--she named the band Kozmic Blues--never solidified as a group, even after earning a warm response on a European tour that spring. There was considerable turnover among the players pulled in for the sessions and considerable discontent as well. Producer Gabriel Mekler would have gladly dumped the band entirely. The best tracks on the album resulted from a single session in June 1969: a supremely delivered rendition of "One Good Man" (with the great Mike Bloomfield on guitar), and, above all, "Little Girl Blue." The Rodgers and Hart estates, however, absolutely loathed Joplin's version of the song, as did a gaggle of older musicians. Joplin changed the words somewhat and made a magnificent tearjerker out of a song that was first performed by Doris Day. This reissue fleshes out the original eight-song collection with a studio outtake of Bob Dylan's "Dear Landlord" and live versions of "Summertime" and "Piece of My Heart" from Joplin's Woodstock appearance. --Myra Friedman

Janis Joplin's highest charting and arguably most artistically successful album gets the deluxe, expanded treatment on this 2005 reissue.

Already re-released once with four extra live tunes, this edition moves those to the second disc, adds nine more (six previously unavailable) from the same summer 1970 tour that predated the original album's January 1971 posthumous release and pads the studio disc with six additional tracks. Those sides--three are inferior, if moderately interesting alternate takes, one is a band jam without Joplin contributing--don't bring much to the table other than to prove that producer Paul A. Rothchild used the correct versions for the final album. But Pearl holds up tremendously well, with Janis focused on some terrific rocking material, yet widening her scope to include a soulful folksy reading of Kris Kristofferson's "Me and Bobby McGee," the album's only major hit.

The real meat of this version consists of the thirteen concert recordings, plucked from the Canadian leg of Joplin's only tour with Full Tilt Boogie. It finds her and the band chugging through ragged but emotionally charged versions of her classics, along with a few tunes from the forthcoming Pearl. Sequenced to mirror her set list, it's a roaring example of Joplin in her prime, comfortable with her band and confident in her astounding abilities to tear into the soul of blues and R&B with vocals that come straight from the heart. - Hal Horowitz