Well, after all of those tossout book reviews I guess that it's time for the real thing, and if you are a fan of mine (and who shouldn't be unless you're a TOTAL JERKOFF) you BETTER be ever-so-grateful! The usual day-to-day hassles and a summer that's gonna be filled with hard-sell outdoor flea markets etc. are putting a damper on this blog and will continue to for quite some time, but nevertheless settle back for the ride given how I've been putting a whole lot of heart, soul and even some plastic-laden testes into these posts.
Anyway welcome to the first post of Rainblow Month 'n here's that li'l ol' attention whore me presenting for you the kinda post I know (at least from post stats) you just love. I'll guarantee ya that nothing that is presented within these "pages" will elicit the same sorta throb thrills that earlier writings of mine most surely did, and perhaps because of the span of time between these big-deal posts there's just too much for the average (?) BTC reader to digest and ultimately shit out. (I was tempted to hold a whole load of this back for a subsequent post but figured by then none of it would be whatcha'd call "timely" as if this blog ever was.) However, deep down inside whatever's left of my heart I'll admit that I'm surprised my mind managed to toss this post at'cha, and given the swill passing for rock journalism these days what I've written still beats whatever I've recently read (or more accurately tried to avoid) regarding that maddening sound called rock 'n roll all hollow.
Now, that doesn't say much considering the dearth of printed pus that passes itself of as "rock critijissom" or whatever other descriptive terms one might conjure but eh, so what! When you consider that this entire mode of the music (as well as the people who produce and even listen to it) really is deader'n Karen Quinlan what would you expect? As I've told you many-a-time, we're all just zombies goin' through the motions only we don't know that we've been obliterated by the past five or so decades of utter loathing directed at our pure ideals and concepts of music. Music as a spell cast against both the forces of mediocrity and the hip superiority moosh that's "supposed" to stand AGAINST that very selfsame mediocrity. Well, better to indulge in the hard and gritty musical past than to sustain your cravings via the piddle being passed off as "raw" and "exciting" these days, and you know this blog is but one guided missile in the war against the creeping tide of bland that unfortunately crept over us way too long ago. And remember --- I wouldn't print any of this if it wasn't true!
***
One particularly peeving thing about this issue is the (re?)printing of a Brian Walsby
comic dealing with Rocket From The Tombs and the Cleveland first wave of
underground rock. This particular page was irritating to me considering just how much I loathed Walsby's
frequent PEANUTS-inspired art that cluttered up a myriad assortment of
hardcore rags that I will be jettisoning once I get back on ebay or
some cheaper equivalent one of these days. The man and his patented eighties
punk unto punque attitudes were so upsetting to me that not one
but TWO Walsby
spoofs appeared in the earlier issues of my not-so-erstwhile crudzine...he was
that
irritable bowel syndrome bothersome to me perhaps because I thought that he and his
work were somehow a culmination of the entire punk attitude and sound idiom
that was turning into boring hippie swill right in front of my very eyes! And
as time proved I was more righter'n you'll ever be!
Anyhow, despite my past hatred for the dude it's good to see that Walsby is
now a devotee of the finer aspects of the underground rock quest (he was also
responsible for a Maureen Tucker comic that I only saw a page of if only
because Brad Kohler wanted to get my goat) and that his style has improved 'n
all HOWEVER... Well, Walsby forgot that Crocus Behemoth had a beard and that
Peter Laughner was in Rocket before the Gene O'Connor/Johnny "Madman"
Madansky/Darwin Layne edition of the group, and although I know that I perhaps picking the nits a tad and that there's
always some "poetic license" being injected into these things and that mistakes are expected to be made, but we're talking about a HALLOWED SUBJECT MATTER that should be treated with the utmost respect! This 'toon shoulda been executed a whole lot better considering the hallowed subject matter, with all the care and detail he would have used had he were doing the Henry Rollins story or something along those lines! Eh, why bicker
especially this late in the game when it doesn't really mean a thing anymore
and in case you didn't know...we all
LOST! (available via wadeoberlin@gmail.com).
Also jettisoned my way via Robert Forward was an issue of that legendary
magazine devoted to the more avgarde vibrations in life, mainly THE WIRE. Dunno why Mr. Forward sent this since hardly any of the musical entities
who are written up in this magazine are anything that I'd go, in Tuli
Kupferberg's own words, "aggieoogieagga" over (pardon me if I have used this descriptor before). Still the
thought was nice and there were a few turdbits of interesting things I
sorted outta this ish even if for the life of me I wouldn't spend one thin
dime on just about anything that is mentioned in here! Well, they did print
a review of that Peter Laughner "graphic novel" that I writ up sometime
back, and maybe if I dig in a little more I'll find something like a review
or an article that might actually be of interest to my rather
horse-blindered brain. But as for now the only current publication that
worthy of my time and pleasure's FAUX WOOD PANELING, and I won't take
guff from any of you over this!
You can read my review of the first Foole/Din career retro release here if you really wanna. If you don't I might have a tad bit of
contempt for you but anyway, here're vols. two and three of the Din
trilogy for all of you unrepentant Boston Rock fans and Velvet Underground
obsessives who I still believe are firmly ensconced under your own
personal rocks. Save some space for me!
Murahashibu-LIVE '72 CD (Good Lovin' Records, Japan)
Grachan Moncur III-NEW AFRICA CD-r burn (originally on BYG-Actuel
Records, France)
Anthony Braxton-RECITAL PARIS '71 CD-r burn (originally on Futura
Records, France)
Chick Corea-CIRCULUS CD (Blue Note Records, Japan)
Meyer Kupferman-ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK FROM THE FILM
HALLELUJAH THE HILLS LP (Fontana Records)
SILOAH CD-r burn (originally on the Garden of Delights lael, Germany)
Various Artists-LULLABIES FOR CATATONICS 3-CD-r set (originally on Cherry
Red Records, England)
STONE COOL WHITE CD-r burn (originally on Cal-Tex Records---well at
least it ain't Co-Tex!)
Wally Shoup/Bill Horist/Paul Kikuchi-CHEMICAL LANGUAGE CD-r burn
(originally on New Atlantis Records)
The Jesus and Marychain-GLASGOW EYES CD-r burn (Fuzz Club Records,
Scotland I guess)
Hawkwind-STORIES FROM TIME AND SPACE CD-r burn (originally on Cherry Red Records, England)
***
Looks like I got my birthday present a li'l early but so what! Here it is, SYD BARRETT'S FIRST TRIP which should also be known as THE BEGINNING OF THE END...
***
Here's another one for you cinema buffs, an early slice of underground filmage entitled 1941 that was created by a painter and moviemaker of little if any renown (can't find nada on-line, or elsewhere for that matter, about him) named Francis Lee. From what I do know about this flicker and (obviously) its title I can tell you that the thing had something to do with Ameriga's entry into the Second World War, but given how abstract and mind of the viewer interpretive it is, this film could be about "Aunt Flow" or any feminine type problem that's out there for all I know. Whatever, I gotta admit that I kinda like it if only because it reminds me of the opening of the old private detective series CHECKMATE:
***
Anyone out there who could give me some info or maybe even airchecks
regarding on-air personality Steve Brown, some guy who used to spin 'em at
KSJO-FM, a once-freeform but now Bollywood station in San Jose California?
I'm only asking cuz, in the course of a Cameron Crowe-penned Grateful Dead
article in that Jan '74 issue of CREEM I praised to the
rafters a few weeks back, Brown was briefly mentioned as having been "once
a locally infamous disc-jockey" and "an eclectic lover of off-the-wall
punk rock" whose "first love" are none other than the Gang of Garcia as if
you couldn't've seen that comin'! Sounds like the kinda guy I
wouldn't mind getting to know better, although his affection for one of
the more overrated rock groups in history might be quite off the ol' high
energy target if you ask me (and why not, 'tis my blog?).
***
Hefty kudos to the DENIM DELINQUENT facebook page for all of those early Alice Cooper photos they've been posting as of a few weeks ago. Keep them snaps comin', and maybe a written review or two from Pete Sanchez would be nice!
***
AS IF ANY OF YOU OUT THERE WOULD CARE TO HELP ME OUT DEPT.: I'm trying harder'n hard to find some information or for that matter a discography (and the availability of recordings) on a late-seventies English punk rock group called the Worst, a Mancunian bunch who have been described in the following terms --- and what terms they are!:
The worst are so much like Uncle Lou and Friends you could be fooled into thinking they are the genuine article. No one's pretending they're 1978's answer to New York's bug-eyed sons (and daughter)But people are inclined to make comparisons - And it's a shadow, y'know.A starting block, and attempt to identify/categorize....it's a blistering tribute, but I could blame a basketful of bands who think it's necessary to pay the Velvets homage = trouble is,The Worst do it so bloody well...Audio-visual excitement:it's even more difficult to understand.Maybe they've rediscovered the energy that made Warhol's Exploding Plastic Enevitable so special/maybe they're pulling the wool over everyone's eyes. (Punctuation/spelling kept as originally presented.)Are the Worst really that late-seventies flash/burst of Velvet Underground sonic pride I've always enjoyed or just another one of XXXXX rock groups who took "the superficial aspects of the quest" without the deep drive and nerve-twisted feeling. They never entered a recording studio but I assume that there are some live tapes flying about, even though to date I have uncovered nada and I just KNOW none of you would be willing to help me out (then again, I wouldn't give any of you readers a ride to the hospital even if you broke your leg!). Who knows, maybe that guy in Finland who has been releasing these limited edition CD-r's of punk rarities might have 'em in his catalog! As usual, I'll attempt to find out and probably once again get burned in the process.
***
And the deaths just seem to keep on comin'. Dennis Thompson's passing
makes it the MC0, and although I am not an aficionado of film as
aht it was kinda sad to hear that Roger Corman bit the dust.
And believe it or not, but I should feel somewhat droopy about the exit stage left of Steve Albini if only because he sent me an album gratis way back when I
really needed to be sent albums gratis. Unfortunately the kind of deaths
that I am looking forward to have yet to transpire which is kind of
disappointing on my behalf. After all, I really do need a reason to smile
these days. But maybe if we all wish and pray hard enough...
***
Ron Unz makes the brilliant point that Donald Trump, whilst campaigning from his prison cell (or at least the swank country club passing as one he'll be skedaddled to), could possibly be this century's answer to Eugene Debs. And come to think of it, if I were around way back 1912/1916 way I definitely would have voted for Debs over Prez Taft and especially the vastly-overrated and downright despicable Woodrow Wilson. Then again, even Happy Hooligan woulda been a better choice than that peacenik conveniently turned warmonger Wilson, a man whose crowning moments as Commander in Chief was probably during his post-stroke days when he couldn't do any harm even though his illiterate wife ended up runnin' things. And, surprisingly enough Debs was an honest man, something which seems to be a scarcity in the world of political wheeliedealies these days. Howzat for throwing you staunchly patented lefty types for a loop?
Whilst on the subject of the upcoming election...izzit true what they say about Trump and Roy Cohn?????
***
As you've been waiting for after all the above personalist jibberjab, here are
some reviews of just a few of many recordings that are 1) either newly released
and deserve a li'l push or 2) for the most part are totally new to my ears
and I thought you should know at least what I think about 'em. As you've come to expect Paul McGarry, Robert
Forward and even Wade Oberlin are the ones responsible for the burns and
my pocketbook the one for the brand spanking new entries into my
collection.
It is getting harder and harder to keep to my
New Year's resolution not to splurge on various frivolities so like well,
better enjoy what I have writ up before I'm banished to the poor house
until my dying day. Pretty pic 'n chooze here --- will it be a winner or
will it be a dud? (Unfortunately the gif doesn't work, but it's taken from
the old MYSTERY DATE tee-vee commercial that some of you old turdburgers may remember. That was the mid-sixties board game where gals getting in on
the hetero relationship merry-go-round aim for the ultimate dating
experience and usually get stuck with the "dud", a guy who in this day and
age would probably be yer aspiring body-pierced tattoo'd gender is over
type's idea of a fun night out!)
Dredd Foole and the Din-WE WILL FALL 1983 CD; SEE GOD 1985 1986 2-CD
set (both efforts via Corbett Vs. Dempsey Records)
WE WILL FALL 1983
has Foole still teamed up with Mission of Burma (more/less)
continuing on the Boston tradition with their mix of more than competent
originals jumbled with the expected smattering of those covers that
inspired them originals. It's all done up live and pretty gnarly at that
what with Foole's strained vocals and a group that sounds blaring even on
a cheap bedside boom box.
SEE GOD 1985-1986's got Foole backed by the post-Burma Volcano Suns
(a group I now wish I paid more attention to, but sheesh I was so
busy/poor then) with their two classic longplayers slapped together giving
me reason to double up on the lisinopril given the palpitations I had for
these albums back in the late eighties (a time that was certainly hard to
get excited over even existing in I'll tell ya).
You might want to take this one piecemeal. Having played all three
platters (which clock in at way over an hour each) in one sitting I feel
like I'm coming down off a long day with nothing but energy drinks for
sustenance. Yes, Dredd Foole and the Din pack a mighty wallop and well, if
you like your under-the-underground rock 'n roll history compacted in such
a way as these platters deliver you just might be a better appreciator of
the warm drone than I could ever hope to be!
***
Sometimes these Japanese rock groups can tread some mighty similar pools
of sound. I mean, the opening track comes close to Les Rallizes Denudes while other moments recall that
infamous anarcho-punk/mock Tyrannosaurus Rex act Zuno Keisatsu. Then there
are the overt Stones swipes and other nods to the occidental set which is
to be expected from Japanese acts such as Murahashibu and others who've kept
their eye on alla them trends happening globe wide and brought 'em home
for the locals. Nothing that'll get your jaw all agape but rough and
tumble enough at least for my tastes. Yeah, I really can see why a touring
Stranglers took an interest in these guys, and if you were/are in on the
whole seventies leather and feral nature of rock 'n roll you will to.
***
Another boff BYG sesh featuring trombonist Moncur along with the best of
the expats making an album that might get you all frothing over the fact
that nobody who played on this ever got renumerated. It ain't over the
hill running and screaming like many of these other late-sixties
cataclysmic bouts of sonic liberation, but it's still rooted in a dark
mid-sixties neo-Archie Shepp (who appears on "When") urban groove that
kinda sounds like it shoulda been the real soundtrack to
COTTON COMES TO HARLEM. If they still have used record bins with
1980's prices dig it up you penny-pinchers you!
***
This previously unheard by me Braxton rarity features a 25+ minute solo version
of "Come Sunday" as well as a multitracked piano piece dedicated to John Cage sidekick David
Tudor. Alla you Braxton fans who were listening in back when Meltzer said
he was nothing but the new Dave Brubeck custom made for the college snobs
"thing" (a comparison Braxton would have probably loved) already heard
this. For the rest of us this should be more than just "good enough" if
your tastes veer in between the new jazz thing and the classical avgarde.
Not boring at all, in fact quite stimulating.
***
Actually this is the first Circle album with Corea joined by fellow
members Braxton, bassist Dave Holland and drummer Barry Altschul. You may
be familiar with their double live set that popped up on the ECM label
back in the seventies, and if you aren't then you sure weren't thumbing
through the jazz section of your local record shop back when that set used to pepper up the plains.
Gotta say that I always found it quite funny that Corea was working in
very close proximity with Braxton in the v. early-seventies considering
how both of 'em would become rather big names in the world of jazz within
a few measly years. Corea as the leader of a rather pedestrian fusion
quartet (though I never did hear the debut Return to Forever LP on Polydor which some
say was of a quite different genome than that of the later edition) and
Braxton the omnipresent avgardist who appeared at a time when there
actually seemed to be an audience for this sort of sonic air shredding.
Still, this effort shows Corea at a time when his L. Ron Hubbard-inspired
pixie and dixie approach hadn't yet taken him into starry-eyed commercial
realms. The rest of Circle keep him in tow, with Corea playing his
classically-bred lines while Braxton etc. are free to do their own thing.
And the use of small instruments etc. does lend the perfect color needed
to keep this from being just another free jazz
effort...CIRCULUS bounces up down and about in your musical
psyche like the best AACM/BAG efforts though not as nervegrinding as the
first or as funky as the second.
It is interesting, perhaps somewhat boring at times, but not boring as in
you're stuck in a carpool with nothing to hear but the radio spinnin' the
80s/90s/00s etc. sounds you tried so hard to avoid for the past umpteen years. Might be worth picking up a few tracks via Youtube 'r something
with only serious fans of seventies experimental strains searching out any
flesh and blood copies that might be wallowing around.
***
From what I could gather HTH wasn't exactly one of the more
engrossing underground films that were popping up throughout the sixties,
what with such efforts as CHAFED ELBOWS (also iffy but good
'nuff) and the various works of the Kuchars and Warhol passing it up while
waving goodbye. This soundtrack album might give one the idea of what was
happening on the screen (including a scene where future Cheryl Tiegs
spouse Peter Beard goes streaking in the snow), though I get the feeling
that it is all so filmatic and New York chi-chi that I doubt that it would
have anything to do with your miserable existence.
Musically some of it reminds me of the kind of tinkle you would have heard
in such early French avgarde efforts as THE BLOOD OF A POET or
ZERO FOR CONDUCT, while there are quiet neo-baroque
harpsichord/flute interludes and even a few trips into a sound that's
almost late-sixties neo-gothic rock. Overall this is nothing that I was
expecting given the very few huzzahs this album had been endowed with
these past sixtysome years, but one thing that I did like was that it
didn't drive me into fits of rage the way a whole slew of
amerindie/"lightcore" records I heard in the eighties sure did!
***
You remember SUKRAM GURK. Siloah's second album which sounded like
a stoned punk rock mad trip into the inner reaches of some twenty-year-old
German whose chemical makeup seemed to equal that of Monsanto's.
However, have you heard their debut of a quite different schnitzel? I
tried to avoid it after hearing all of those references to
"hippie-communal-freeform-body odor" mysticism that were directed at this,
but lo and behold none other than Mr. Robert Forward sent me a burn and
well, you already know how I feel about it so why write this review in the
first place? Aimless get together in the group house jams are what's in
store here, most of it kinda sounding something like Amon Duul's infamous swan song PARADIESWARTS DUUL without the early Velvet Underground
repeato riffs. If Adolf were alive he'd just die!
***
A lot of these recent CD compilations that bunch up previously released
spazz and slaps 'em into a packet under a certain thematic grouping are
rather meaningless while others, like the Chris Needs-helmed
DIRTY WATER series and that collection of classical avgarde
efforts that inspired Frank Zappa are pretty solid. As for this triple
disque effort giving us a somewhat unconnected overview of various
late-sixties/early seventies English proggy sounds well...
This set comes off like the kind of jukebox Chris Welch and Michael
Oldfield (the MELODY MAKER scribe, not the
TUBULAR BELLS guy) would have just
LOVED
to have had spinning at their headquarters while tossing darts at pictures of
Johnny Rotten, and you've won the ol' cigar if you think that the
majority of tracks don't exactly make me want to jump up and
down in frenzied ecstasy. Acts like Curved Air (doing a Vivaldi violin
homage that might have even put a smile on Miss Grundy's face) and Barclay
James Harvest don't exactly reach for my jugular even if even I gotta
admit that a few of the latter's very early Beatles riffs are slightly
palatable if taken in extremely small doses (really!). For the most part
the tracks on this effort just remind me of just how laden this so-called
rock music could have gotten once the Mantovani side of the brain overtook
the Buddy Holly one.
Not to say that there are some winners sticking out like diamonds in a
field of turds. The Bowie-fueled Riot Squad doing "Waiting For My Man"
must rank along with the Deviants' version as the earliest example of a
cover that more than a few Ladbrook Grove bands would be doing throughout
the late-sixties and seventies. The Velvet Frogs' homage to
THE MARBLE INDEX makes me wish that more by these Velvet
Underground aficionados would make its way to the ears of people who are
bored silly by all of those superficial VU-inspired groups of the last
fortysome years. 10cc prove that there was a whole lot more to them than
"I'm Not In Love" and oddly enough Stackridge's "Grand Piano" sounds like
a Badfinger-esque Beatles rip that would have sounded spiffy on a 1972 AM
playlist.
And there are more goodies from the Third Ear Band and Comus, but for the
most part this effort just reverberates old feelings of some quite unexciting music that did have its audience, which is OK for that audience
I guess but what about those of use who are addicted to the concept of high energy? There
are collections more attuned to my own sense of sonic integrity which I
mentioned in the first paragraph, but LULLABIES FOR CATATONICS is one grab together that just ain't made for the typical reader of
this blog. But who knows...perhaps the Emerson Lake and Palmer revival is
just around the corner and I know how some of you readers just love to
jump on them new hip bandwagons!
***
Wade Oberlin sent me a burn of this 1970 vintage funk thing
OBVIOUSLY because these guys (and femme) hailed from Dayton, which is 'round where
Oberlin himself resides. The AM radio sound does help deliver a most
welcome raw feeling which does aid the searing wah-wah Hendrix ripoff
instrumentals and echoplex vocals. Dull cover of "Ain't No Sunshine" tho.
Kinda reminds me of what that King Afro and the Mongoloids single that Reg
Shaw mentioned in his "Jukebox Jury" column in
BRAIN DAMAGE magazine woulda sounded like.
***
Even thought this 'un's nine-years-old it's like very recent in
BLOG TO COMM time! Alto/guitar/drums trio that play sparse and
bared wire in that post-twentieth century style that I used to hear a
whole lotta back when I'd tune into Dee Pop's Freestyle Night at the CBGB
Lounge. Can't pinpoint a direct ref to Shoup's takeoff points (too
sharp for Ayler and thin for Shepp---maybe Braxton?) but Horist plays electric spidery
enough in the fashion of some of those Euros like Joseph DeJean did on Shepp's
Antibes album. Drummer Kikuchi slaps around it all in
the fashion that Sunny Murray begat oh so long ago. A good effort that has
been ignored for nearly a decade and I get the feeling that it'll be
ignored until the current crop of jazz pansies die off and are replaced by
a new, snarling generation (yeah, right!).
***
The latest, and perhaps not greatest in the Jesus and Marychain catalog. I
liked these guys back when their mid-eighties violent mix of
VU/Syd/Jan and Dean was such a welcome relief from the usual doldrums so prevalent then, but even that original splurge of brilliance didn't last long.
The over-production and dependency on updated technotwizzle (with the
passion kept to a bare minimum) sure doesn't bring back memories of those
feedback blasts and riots that made these guys the darlings of the English weaklies. Well, it's good to see that ex-Rezillos singer
Faye Fife got to lend some vocal cords to this even if I never did care
for her act --- 's just that I'm glad she doesn't have to hang around the
Welfare Office anymore. Overall a fair enough release that I guess I
should have come to have expected when I tore this 'un outta McGarry's
latest parcel.
***
The latest in a long line of Hawkwind wares that keep on comin' more'n John Holmes ever did. Naturally, like their past fortysome years of Hawkwind and related releases this is pretty much the same old only with a new cover that sure lacks the imagination of the ones that graced their seventies platters. Some good melodies can be discerned here and there but otherwise Dave Brock and the new crew have yet to re-capture the entire hard blare of those early albums that were so boff on the psychedelic trip that even the FM stations in the USA couldn't ignore 'em. If you're starting in on the Hawkwind game and want to know where to start, go for the United Artists albums and slowly work your way forward...
***
These reminders about picking up one (or hopefully even more) back issues
of BLACK TO COMM are gonna get less and less friendlier as time rolls on. Anyway
like, what's keeping you? Whatever you do, don't believe all of those
naysayers out there who have lambasted this rag for years if only to make
their own selves feel more better in their quest of personal destruction
(something I sure wish I had the ability to do!). These are the ultimate
fanzines and any fan of the Big Beat who is without copies is like a
toilet with a roll. Sheesh, you'd think there'd be at least a few
thousand more hard-edged rockist maniacs out there on this globe of ours
willin' to latch onto this thing!
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4 comments:
It's a shame that Wally Shoup checked out earlier this year. I got to see him once with two different gtr/drm guys and at one point they played something so funny I fell out of my folding chair! He left behind some good ones (CDs).
Hey, mister! You're never happy!
Put a smile on your face!
Smile and the world smiles with ya!
Pity poor Braxton.
Reduced to giving blow jobs to pay the rent!
Biden's AmeriKKKa!
Still House Plants are rad.
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