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Well, it finally happ'd...no more Jimmy Carter. As I wrote a few months back there were rumors of his passing slipping onto the internet which suddenly vanished in typical Tom Petty fashion, and in a joking way I wrote that at first I believed that the news of the man's deep six was being suppressed in order to get more traction out of it when the Democratic convention was in full swing (y'know, sympathy 'n all). Obviously the guy was still rumblin' on (somewhat --- remember when they wheeled him outside on a gurney for his 100th birthday and he already looked like a corpse?) until that dreadful day two weeks back when he actually did hit the carbon cycle. Not to anyone's real surprise considering all of the stories regarding his being on hospice, one which seemed to roll on for a pretty longer than usual period of time. But if you're an ex-prez I guess the suits in charge drop everything to cater to every little health-related problem while peons like us just keel over.
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When CBGB closed its doors a good two decades back I said that the seventies were over, but with the passing of #39 all I gotta say is that the seventies are really really REALLY over! And like I also mentioned back during the summer, Carter really did epitomize everything that I thought dank and depressing about the latter portion of that decade. Maybe you remember all of those dull television situation comedies (CARTER COUNTRY included) with those wonky, go out of their way to offend you Hollywood morality tales that were anything but funny, complete with the obligatory bedroom scene which were so patently staid that they actually made a case FOR celibacy. Howz'bout alla that horrid disco and the general AM/FM doldrums that made an underground music scene all the more potent, not forgetting a staid beyond belief middle of the road wishy-washyness that not only did Carter, but life in general seemed to ooze!
Carter really was the dishrag president residing over a period in time that was not worth living in, the middle of the road-ster that both the conservatives and the VILLAGE VOICE radical types loathed with an equal passion. Given the general disgust and outright hatred both the Panama Canal and B-1 types as well as those rabid lesbians had for the dude these recent accolades regarding his greatness that are being tossed out all over the place sure make me want to do more'n just a little chuckling!
Well, he was kind of an idiot trying to look hip with all of them "New South" post-segregationist whiteys he was palling around with during his campaign (remember that rumor where Capricorn Records head Phil Walden supposedly used his status as a "close, personal friend" to make the guy suppress punk rock just so it wouldn't cut into his sales, telling Carter that if punk were to flourish the kids would go wild like they did back inna sixties?). Who of you who were up and about then could forget his pathetic misquoting of Bob Dylan in an attempt to drag in the ROLLING STONE vote, a lame grab for the post-Viet whole grain kids who were so annoying even SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE was poking fun at 'em. A man so much into post-Watergate openness that he just hadda tell us that he lusted in his heart if any of us really cared what kind of sexual fantasies that wonk had rumbling 'round in his cranium.
At least there were some bright spots in his tenure such as the mere existence of Billy, Carter's quintessential redneck brother who made for quite a few chuckles given his tendency for shady dealings and acting like the stereotypical deep south goof that most of us thought was a snooty northern bias to begin with! Do any of you remember Billy Beer or the Starland Vocal Band's summer replacement series (yeah, really!) where regulars Proctor and Bergman of FIRESIGN THEATRE fame...no foolin'!!!...had this gag about the Starland Vocal Band's Brother Billy? It's the only thing I can recall from the scant few seconds of watching that program I'll tell ya! (Episodes are available via Youtube although I did a quick comb through what was available [so you don't have to] and couldn't find this particular skit, which I surmise might all be for the better.) Gary Busey's Billy Carter portrayal on an old SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE was also a hoot, with Gilda Radner as Ma Carter's "my little ol' poor wrinkled heart" line still bouncing 'round in my brain lo these many years later.
And with this entry I've done something that I never thought possible...and that is mention Jimmy Carter in two consecutive posts!
Well to put a cap on it all let me just say that the guy eventually found his niche building houses, so more power to 'im, I guess.
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Here's a Christmas card that made its way into the mailbox way too late to print in my last megapost so better late than somethingorother (equal thanks to the ones Fadensonnen and Bill Shute sent as well, along with some neato presents I will be reviewing not only on this post but in the future). Once again the Droogs come through to show their appreciation for one lousy article I did on 'em a good thirtysome years back which really does show true heartfelt thanks, I guess. (If you think I am proud and have accomplished one decent thing in my entire dull life well, you are right!) And hey, if any of you out there in the audience can help the Albins with their request to smuggle Droogs contraband across the border (I sure can't!) how about writing to them at 2216 Laurel Canyon Boulevard, Lost Angeles CA 90046 and lending a helping hand to a bunch who never ever did let us down!
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I can see why Wade Oberlin gets off sending me dubs of this guy's works given how Shoup's playing echoes the best of alla them sixties/seventies improv types without the sterility of some of the players that have come out since. Who'm I kiddin'---I tend to go for this breed of deep reflection of loft success pass even if at times the players do rate a big "0" as Frank Lowe once said of James Chance.
Over an hour of the even newer than the old new thing jazz with bassist Reuben Radding and drummer Rob Rees playing around the beat in the best Sunny Murray tradition. Can even discern moments of just back from retirement Ornette during the Blue Note era. Sheesh, with alla these Shoup burns Oberlin has been sending me I gotta wonder if these guys were related!
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The Alan Lechusta/Christopher Adler Duo-PLEISTOCENE CD-r burn (originally on what I would call the artists' own personal label...no actual company is mentioned)
Some smart fanabla reviewed this quite awhile back and an equally smart one sent me a burn of it, so what else did I do but act like an appreciative sorta turdburger and listened to the thing!
So listen I did and well, I'm sure glad that I tuned in because PLEISTOCENE is one of those perfect platters to spin during these winter weekend afternoons where all I have to do is sit and reflect on how other people hadda go and waste my life away. But what a way to spend those hours, listening to Lechusta's melodic soprano saxophone trills (he plays a baritone too) while Adler plays piano almost as good as Cecil Taylor on NEFERTITTI (the album as well as the title cut of the same name). And while Lechusta is of a different breed than Jimmy Lyons he's still on the mark with his depth and passion which he infuses into his instruments. Powerful, connects to the core being of your very existence sounds are to be experienced. I'd mention how someone doing the Sunny Murray free rhythmic duties would have helped immensely but I already mentioned him in the previous review and don't wanna over do it.
At times the piano/horn interplay reminds me of that "Hall of Mirrors at the Palace of Versailles" track on CHURCH OF ANTHRAX. You heard it before but hear it again. And if you really do wanna hear it again all you have to do is activate the youtube video below:***
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Mr. Oberlin promised that this would be the last Jah Wobble-related burn he'll send my way, and given that I never was one who really cozied up to much of what smarter than I'm ever supposed to be underground pundits called "post punk" those words were somewhat of a relief.
It is whatcha'd expect. Some of that white imitation reggae pops up here too (well, almost white given the presence of Letts). If you liked browsing through those early-eighties Rough Trade catalogues on the search for the latest from England this 12-inch 45 might be way up your well-traveled alley but for me...eh!
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Who says noise rock is dead? Not these totally anonymous (to me at least and googlin' didn't help!) kiddos who put this effort out way back 2008 way. A particularly hard effort to describe...in parts it kinda sounds like some early-eighties 12-inch dance mix played at 78 with the rhythms pounding even harder while at others it take on airs of late-sixties Pink Floyd with a heavy organ mood backed by Burundi beats.
Whatever it may be this is one of those records that reminds me of what the human brain could have conceived of with only the proper bit of cranial abilities mixed with various mental stimulants that can still get you into a heap of trouble. One of the longer 12-inch 45 rpm's since Cabaret Voltaire's THREE MANTRAS. The kinda music the Soul Train Gang shoulda been dancing to!
Experience it directly below.
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Here's a guy whose music went through a whole load of changes I'm sure even Bowie couldn't have kept up with. Unlike Bowie, the sounds weren't a roller coaster twixt maddening heights and abysmal lows, and when I say lows I'm not talking Bowie's 1977 "comeback" album either.
THE INFINITE ONE from 2020 and '23's THE NATURE OF THINGS are a mix of what I would truly call instro avant garde jazz pop if such a thing would have or could have existed way back when music really did have an overpowering feeling over impressionable sub-autistic types like myself. Sorta mid-sixties e-z listening bachelor pad sounds for the Hai Karate set yet with that bared-wire undercurrent of urban funk ('n even neo-reggae Spaghetti Western!) that made black music quite listenable. Or at least listenable before the onslaught of disco tarnished the image of black low-down cool for quite some time. You can imagine these actually being used in some by-now ancient piece of cinematic excursion, but what you'll be seeing on the screen at the same time just might startle even a seen it all before kinda guy like you.
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There does seem to be quite a bit of modern day "revisionism" which is to be expected, but what else would one expect long after the original fire's been extinguished and the mode of the music has been shredded beyond recognition?
Both of these ain't anything I'll be listening to while I'm snuggled up in this world but hey, you might have a hankerin' to give 'em more'n just "adequate" spins.
And yeah, I really admire him for the time he shoved his bared rear end into Lindsay Lohan's face. Hope he forgot to wipe.
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Shall I listen to this as if I were one of those ultra-eclectic rockscribes you used to see who liked just about everything that was placed in front of their bleeding ears? Some of them critypes were whatcha'd call "admirable" and in fact I even copped a tad of what passes for my writing style from a few of these scribblers. But I'll just play it my own stupid self.
It's acoustic Anglo/Celtic folky music which would appeal to the more progressive type of sound discerner out there, and yet I find these attempts to bridge a whole slew of musical realms (naturally, none of the realms I actually care for) a whole lot more palatable than some of the British folk retreads of the late-sixties these guys were competing with. Is it due to a budding realization that there is music outside of my usual horse-blindered parameters, or is it because I liked the "metaphysical punk rock" of Mike Heron's SMILING MEN WITH BAD REPUTATIONS?
If you must know well...I find it all OK. Considering I did think these guys (and gal) were nothing but early progressive schmoozers I gotta say that this is a whole lot more digestible than what prog rock eventually turned into. Not my go-to when looking for the kind of music that stimulates my nerve nodes, but if I saw you with a copy I wouldn't kill you.
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No, I am not going to make the obvious jokes that you readers are just champing at the bit for. However, I WILL comment on the music itself and mention how these tracks were pretty hotcha if you're one of those Greg Prevost types who go for Fabian (hey, I like the ol' wopadago the same way I like teasing turdlers who can't fight back). Kinda wish the material that was chosen for him was way more punky --- who knows, he could have been the United States' answer to JP Kalfon! As it is, this is typical fifties pop for the bobbysoxers and zit-encrusted gals who couldn't get a dog to play with 'em unless they tied a pork chop 'round their necks. There are a few good enough tit rubbers that might not pack the same wallop as "Theme from A Summer Place" but eh, it'll do in a pinch.
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With a little tweaking (amongst other things) Mineo coulda been another Lou Reed, but at least we had the real Lou to contend with and he did do us some good. SOMEWHERE that is. Anyway, a chap who calls himself Tyler Wilcox (a name that sounds familiar) compiled two disques of Lou doing "Sister Ray" during his earlier solo career and it does make for educational listening.
Lou's post-Velvet Underground days did swing from pole to pole and you can hear each of 'em on these shiny platters, at times sounding like he's content to churn out the predictable pablum for the goonies while at others giving remarkable remake-remodels that almost sound like another song, like one of the various numbers by various VU acolytes over the history of Velvetdom that took from that master and sashayed in their own direction to remarkable results ("Remake/Remodel" included). You wouldn't've thought that Lou had it in him at the time, but wonders do happen.
Mr. Fadensonnen even copied the liners for me which surely did make for finer'n fine reading. Some interesting insight is presented in these notes which give even an old turdburger like myself info that I never knew 'bout before. One surprising note regards the '73 backing group that none other than Moogy Klingman fronted...the drummer in the 'un was a chap named "Chocolate" which makes me wonder if this is the guy of the name nom de who held down the original drum chair in Hackamore Brick! If so the strange history of under-the-underground rock 'n roll gets even more tangled than I ever would have thought.
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Oddly enough I have been getting somewhat interested in rhythm and blues o'er the past few months or so, probably stirred up after reading various Vivien Goldman and Giovanni Dadomo articles from seventies-era issues of SOUNDS. Maybe not as interested in it as I should be, but given how much I love those early garage band ditties that made 1958-59 so exciting I find these efforts not one bit off the mark as far as primitive sounds and execution of said sounds go. Some familiar names, some familiar songs and although you serious aficionados probably heard it all before there's no reason why you can't hear it again.
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Actually thought 'bout buying this 'un when it first popped up 2018 way, but didn't because...well...money constraints and all. Well, thanks to Mr. Mueller I finally get to hear these Klitz and these nineteen tracks are everything I woulda expected this all-gal group to have been. Not exactly punk rock as in 1977 spiky hair 'n all, the Klitz sound instead like a group of teenbo gals who coulda put this group together a good five or so years earlier in the decade and they still would have gotten washed away by the tide of lesser talent. Total basement primitiveness from covers of "Cocaine" and "Wild Thing" along with other faves and originals that really do live up to originality. Suburban ranch house yet decadent. Musical instruments bought from the Sears catalog 'cept for little brother's chord organ. It sounds as if it was recorded on an old reel-to-reel in one of the participant's bedrooms during a slumber party. Definite repeat play here.
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Gotta give major "kudos" to this 90s-vintage Scottish group that not only has the 1965-66 Amerigan local band style down to a tee but recorded it all up so it sounds like the thing's being played out of a transistor radio. Sure beats a lotta the late-eighties "garage band revival" recordings that were so pristine you woulda thought they were produced by Queen Elizabeth. Overall feel is more BACK FROM THE GRAVE than it is PRISTINE PSYCHEDELIC ALTRUSITIC DREAMS RECORDED BY HIPPIES BEING PASSED OFF AS PUNK PROGENETORS. Jim Sohns shoulda sued their singer. Really authentic to the point where ya kinda get the idea that Friday and Gannon are gonna bust the entire bunch any minute now.
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A Romanian electronic music composer? Didn't know they had electronic music in Romania. Didn't know they had electricity in Romania. Didn't know they had MUSIC in Romania but obviously they do and Rodion Ladislau Rosca and his Rodion G.A. is just but one aggregate who dabbles in the medium. Or at least they dabbled because Rodion's been dead three years, but anyway this recording's one that positively will appeal to anyone who grooves to seventies-vintage electronic beat bleat, the kind of music that seemed somewhat adventurous at one time then hackneyed to the core only a few years down the line.
It is the kind of electronic sound you used to hear on a whole slew of PBS programs and late-night commercials in the mid-seventies, a rather analog sounding synth music which should appease the purist in neo-pop electronica sounds who hates the digital era with contempt and loathing. At times Rodion G.A. come off somewhat Harmonia-esque krauty while at others this could have been music used to hype the local wrestling match on UHF.
A nice nostalgic romp for me considering that I did have a tad bit of an "affection" for some of those early Giorgio Moroder rumbles. I eventually grew outta it but listening to this music did remind me of my just-post pubesprout days to the point where all I kept thinking about were bathroom door locks and Vaseline.
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There were way too many obscure bands, and I'm talkin' bands that I and undoubtedly you would want to wrap your ears around, that were up and about during the sainted seventies (give/take a few years) and definitely worthy of listening to. Unfortunately most all of 'em left us without any recorded product, or even surviving sounds for that matter, for anyone to enjoy a good forty/fiftysome years after the big beat sorta sputtered on into areas I wouldn't traverse into no matter what!
I managed to discover and even reviewed a few of 'em over the past couple of decades, but sad to say there are way too many who haven't been uncovered and surely do deserve the notoriety no matter how late in musical "evolution" it may be. And Albany New York's Randy and the Goats are but one of about a bazillion acts that ought to garnish some rah rahs no matter how belated they may be because well, they were a pretty good act and actually released (on their lonesome) a record that will appeal to some of the more rockist readers who tune into this very blog.
Nothing soul-gripping or essential, but I find Randy and crew quite worthy of praise with their Lou Reed/Dylan mishmosh meets early Tom Petty style that has a good enough neo-Stonesy backwoods slide that doesn't irritate yo the way some local bar band of the past most surely would've. For an independent platter outta nowhere this sure sounds rather pro w/o the gloss trickery that practically ruined the idea of "rock music" for me.
The writing's as energetic as the playing, the Goats roaring on with a spirit and approach that at times reminds me of some forgotten Peter Laughner grouping, or at least that neat band you used to hear down the street that did nothing because all the bars'd book were those horrid cover bands that all the wonks you knew seemed to cum buckets over. Smart set people like us of course wanted something better but that only made us all the more evil in many a person's eyes. And like I said many times, justice (the fact that this music is somewhat remembered while those cover acts are kinda remembered like a loud fart in gym class) just don't cut it...the time for REVENGE is now and if I don't see some bloody "classic rock" scalps soon I'm gonna do more'n just a little screamn'!
A should-have for those of you who, like me, thought that music in general lost a whole load of soul and feel once the early-eighties really began to slip into gear.
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Just yet another reminder that there are plenty of BLACK TO COMM back issues still available and they're going fast. They're going fast to the incinerator if you lunks don't buy some, so if you don't want to be dodging flames in order to snatch up these should be classic this late in the rock fandom game mags send your precious pennies my way (instructions are in the link) and see first hand what all the hubbub is about...that is if there really was any hubbub about these rags goin' on in the first place!
