THE LAST year has been a pretty lean one for rock and roll freaks. No Beatles, no new Stones to speak of a disappointing third album from the Band, and a couple of Dylan albums that at their best moments are just barely tolerable. We have had to rely on second-string groups who continue to produce solid, respectable, and, on occasion, brilliant, records; people like Creedence, the Dead, the Steve Miller Band, Delaney and Bonnie, Elton John, Poco, Leon Russell, Traffic, and Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. All these people are putting out fine music, but none of them has been able to really challenge that insane devotion that is reserved for the Beatles, the Stones, and Dylan.

(All these remarks are limited to white rock and roll. Black music cannot be said to have declined at all when an old-timer like James Brown can continue to issue amazing and totally unpredictable singles such as "Superbad" and "Get on Up, Get into It, Get Involved," and a relative newcomer like King Floyd can put out "Groove Me," which was certainly the best 45 in the past six months.)

But in addition to those rather well-known and wealthy groups listed above, there are many others who release equally fine records every year that flop. I don't know why nobody buys these records; it may have to do with bad promotion or bad timing, but it clearly has nothing to do with the quality of the music. Several such records have worked their way into my hands in the last year or so. Many of them are worth spending your money on as much as any other recent white rock albums.

ONE SUCH album, which came out about a year ago, is the first Boz Scaggs album. Scaggs started out in a University of Wisconsin rock band, then graduated into the original Steve Miller Band, much of whose best material he wrote. Shortly after leaving the Miller Band, he cut this solo album, on which he is backed by Duane Allman and the Muscle Shoals studio house band, the same group who play behind Aretha on many of her greatest hits. As a result, most of the songs on Box Scaggs (Atlantic) are arranged with a tightness and professionalism that is usually missing in white rock. With the exception of "Loan Me a Dime," a twelve-minute blues which is redeemed primarily by the quality of the guitar work, the whole LP is free of the kind of excesses (mostly wretched) that new groups tend to wallow in.

The songs, all but two of which are originals, remain interesting and pleasurable, despite being built on very conventional forms, in both music and lyrics. There are country ballads, like "Waiting for a Train," the Jimmie Rodgers classic, and "Now You're Gone," which Tracy Nelson previously recorded on her country album; a waltz, "Finding Her": and a couple of imitation gospel numbers. "I'll Be Long Gone" and "Sweet Release," the latter probably the best cut on the record. With one or two exceptions, all the material is in a down and out, lovelorn vein, and will be especially appealing to those of you who dig self pity music.

Another forgotten album in much the same style is Wayne Talbert's Houston Nickel Kicks (Mercury). Before cutting this record, Talbert, who looks like a fat, freaky ex-Marine, played piano for Mother Earth and the Sir Douglas Quintet, worked with Dr. John the Night Tripper, did the arrangements for Jimmy Cotton's best album ( Cut You Loose ), made two mediocre solo albums, and wrote a song entitled "Schizophrenic Susan Minnick," all of which should entitle him to some small fame, surely. This, his latest album, was a blatant attempt to get Talbert a hit single, which attempt, unfortunately, failed.

The record was produced by the great Huey P. Meaux, who is responsible for the Peggy Scott and Jo Jo Benson hits, "Lover's Holiday," "Soulshake," and "Pickin Wild Mountain Berries." Meaux kept almost all the cuts simple, melodic, and less than three minutes long. The best of them are the amazingly pompous and melodramatic "I Can't Take Another Heartache" and "Put It On Me." Talbert pulls off singing such ludicrous songs only on the strength of his fantastic voice, which falls just a little short of Screaming Jay Hawkins.

In addition to this, Houston Nickel Kicks is worth owning just for the truly tough cover picture of Talbert leaning against a Williams' Apollo pinball machine, which pinball connoisseurs will recognize as a classic. Both this and the Boz Scaggs album have frequently turned up for two dollars at certain Harvard Square record stores, making it even more imperative that you rush out and buy them right away.

THE MOST recent obscure-but-brilliant album I have heard is the Joy of Cooking on Capitol. It's new enough that it may yet do as well as it deserves. What is particularly curious about this group is that it is the first rock and roll band I have heard that is dominated in every way by women. Toni Brown and Terry Garthwaite wrote all the songs, do all the singing, and play guitar, piano, organ, steel guitar, and clarinet. The three guys in the band, who play bass, drums, and percussion, aren't bad, but seem pretty superfluous. All the originals on the record are-excellent songs; the fast numbers don't always work so well, but the slow ones are reminiscent of Elton John or the Band at their best contemplative moments. And like the Band, they have worked out most of the songs carefully with little virtuoso soloing to interfere with the mood. Both of the women sing and play well, though neither of them vocally can really compare to someone like Tracy Nelson.

There are lots of other musicians who have been almost as neglected as those above and deserve much more attention than they have received: the Jerry Hahn Brotherhood, Ry Cooder, Redbone, and Tony Joe White, not to mention people like Bukka White, the Five Royales, and the Detroit Emeralds, who are obscure only because they are black. None of these people is likely to start anybody's revolution, but they sure are nice to listen to while you wait for capitalism to come crumbling down around your ears.