The secret special I had planned for this week didn't quite pan out---if you must know I didn't even begin the project---so its more of the same old blab 'n reviews as usual this time around. And, as kismet would have it, it's also time for part three (and the FINAL installment...aren't you glad?) of my running impressions of old issues of THE NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS that I have recently obtained thanks to the miracle of ebay. And true, these papers certainly would have done me much better had I gotten hold of 'em back when they came out 'stead of a good four decades later ('n they might as well have been four centuries), but who could deny that just one reading of these classic papers is enough to remind you of just how energetic and downright inspirational just about everything connected with rock 'n roll (as opposed to that fiendish cousin "rock") was, if you only knew where to look for it and needed a little guidance in order to figure out that maybe Sky Saxon was a better spokesman for your teenage situation than Terry Jacks ever could be!

The cover sporting a pic of Vietnamese culture aficionado Gary Glitter couldn't have been a better tipoff as to the entire mood and situation the rock world of the day was in. Nick Kent's piece on the then-current teenybop upstart's one of the better I've read from this trio of 'papers since it not only contains a concise appreciation of Glitter's entire crass appeal (which I will admit ranked with the New York Dolls for seventies by-the-numbers decadence aimed at mid-teen pimplefarms) but it dwells into the more perverse aspects of Glitter's---uh---fans! Like nobody knew about the object in question even then although we all sorta believed him to be a family man not unlike you or your neighbor??? But whatever, Kent's appreciation of Glitter and the phenomenon surrounding his way above average recordings and mystique is perhaps the only thing I've read IN MY LIFE that really captures that short-lived mania that had me tuning into the AM dial back when "Rock 'n Roll Part Two" was rousing ire in more'n a few suburban slob homes with a radio.

Kent's review of Van Morrison's TB SHEETS album is also encompassing???, enveloping????? in that seventies Golden Ages of the Rock Press days sorta fashion. I like it even if I do think Morrison is and will remain a mental midgie smudge who never shoulda made it outta Bang Records alive. Wish I could say the same about Charles Shaar Murray though...the guy strikes a big zero this time not only with a feature on Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show but a live review of Return to Forever that actually has the audacity to laud Chick Corea and company for their slickwhiz flyspeck-less techno music that recalls tossing pebbles in a canal on a Saturday afternoon or some other such hippie dribble that might have seemed perfect then but looked oh so retardoid just a good year or so later. Sheesh, aren't you sick of alla these rock critics who are so universal in their tastes that they can spout off punk rock palpitations one minute then rah-rah over the worst proggo hippie doodle the next? Whatever happened to writers (other'n me) who knew that hippie crap was crap and certainly unworthy of anybody's ears let alone some writer for an English Weekly who can actually find much of worth in a fusion group that didn't know whether it wanted to be Emerson Lake and Palmer, Miles Davis or L. Ron Hubbard noodling around on his Mellotron!

Of course you know I'm (half) kidding. After all, even some of my favorite writers have sickening musical asides that are definitely of an anti-rock/punk/garage/crud bent, and it ain't like I hate Murray for some weird sidesteps into "mature" and "respectable" musical matters like I do say---C***k E**y. (Actually, I don't hate E@@y for his musical tastes at all no matter how skewered they may be---that would be totally puerile on my part---but for his totally arrogant personality which was something that makes me want to obliterate him and anything he touches with a roaring passion!) Back to Murray---in retrospect (and after a good solid minute of thought), I must admit I did enjoy his double-header album reviews of...now get this...the New Seekers and Commander Cody, so maybe that "big zero" I mentioned earlier as quite off the mark. I'll give him a 50% this time and hope he lays off the fusion and hippiedoodle from now on even if we all know of his love for those early Jethro Tull singles (to which I will say...just how early???).

***

Finally made it through another week, barely intact if you must know. I guess I should congratulate myself on being able to survive another week without enduring yet another crisis in somethingorother. I even managed to make it through the past seven despite the task of reviewing the following disques for your educational benefit. And I do hope you are appreciative...after all, would you want to go and download (onto some expensive Cee-Dee-Are you paid $15 for a pack of 100) an item you believed was hotcha before finding out from me whether or not it was worthy of your ears??? So read on, and take caution with the vast array of old and new items received that I get the feeling you'll probably want to pass on in favor of a Sun O)))) disque, but why should I pry into YOUR personal perverted affairs anyway???

Miller, Miller, Miller and Sloan-"Funky Family"/"Key To Your Heart" 45 rpm single (Meaningful Productions)

Disco-y yet spry single from these teenage funksters who managed to carve out a niche as one of those early-eighties CBGB acts that everybody seems to have heard of yet nobody had actually heard. Despite the white-kid funk approach, this is a refreshing spin not only in light of similar efforts being made around the same nanosecond but with regards to much of the self-produced "amerindie" recordings that were being pumped out throughout the eighties. You might find this hard to believe, but I wouldn't mind hearing an entire album, live tape or even retrospective compact disc from these guys even if I wouldn't want to exist on a steady diet of it. I get that way sometimes.

***

Jim Sauter/Kid Millions-BOANERGES CD-r burn (originally on Doubtmusic, Japan)

Borbetmagus guitarist Sauter pairs up with the fresh talent on the avant improv scene Kid Millions and produces a pleasantly hot guitar/drums session that just might boomerang you back to the glory days of New York experimental gunch. It is overpowering and soul-reaffirming enough, but will it replace DAILY DANCE as far as guitar/drums free splat free jazz cum rock offerings go? If you ask me (and why not?) the answer is never, but that doesn't mean you can't ooze as much pleasure out of it as you most humanly can.

***

Various Artists-WIGGLE WOBBLE CLAM KING COLE CD-r (via Bill Shute)

As usual, Bill keeps my ears on their toes with his surprising yet creative selections culled from the web. The Nat King Cole kiddie tracks were interesting enough not only for their musical content but for the plain fact that way more adults 'n kids woulda cared to listen to this inna first place. The spate of fifties rockers were necessary if only because they seemed to capture the true essence of the 1958-1963 seasons 'stead of the imitations that were usually passed on to us during the big "nostalgia" craze of the seventies (I've been particularly partial to Les Cooper's "Wiggle Wobble" ever since first hearing it on the infamous INSTRUMENTAL GOLDEN GOODIES album way back when) while Bill just hadda slip more of his sainted country 'n western numbers in and I don't mind. Made great Sunday afternoon paranoid introspective listening.

***

GR AND FULL BLOWN EXPANSION CD-r burn (originally on World in Sound, Germany)

Full blown is right...hard and heavy drones coming on like Dave Allen being swept into a jet intake engine. Extremely engrossing once you get suckered into the thing even after you realize it's all fairly recent (2009) and not some strange blast from the Golden Age of Underground Rock. In case you're interested the guy responsible for it is named Gregory Raimo  ("GR") and he played all of the instruments himself just like Todd Rundgren used to do after somebody told him he was a genius. For a change from the usual, this might be a worthy enough one you can easily download with the flick of a wrist.

***

Black Oak Arkansas-BACK THAR N' OVER YONDER CD-r burn (originally on Atlantic)

I never was one to call Black Oak Arkansas the best three-lead guitar group since Moby Grape or the new MC5 or a Southern psychedelic extravaganza in a 13th Floor Elevators vein or even the closest thing on vinyl to the Velvet Underground. However, time has proven that BOA were a top ranking on-the-verge hard-edged hard rock group with definite high energy leanings, and really who am I to disagree with such enlightened fans of the band as Byron Coley or Eddie Flowers anyway? This collection features recordings both old and from the group's recent reunion, and it's all (as long time fans would have guessed) attention-grabbing dixoid heavy rock that doesn't let up even when Jim Dandy Mangrum soulfully croons in that life-reaffirming gravelly way of his. So good that even the new material with a touch of synthdoodle doesn't tend to offend. It's certainly a stellar must have effort for all fans of seventies slop, but man could I have used a new version of "Feet On Earth, Head In Sky"!

***

Cheap Time-EXIT SMILES CD-r burn (originally on In The Red)

More of that buzzy nuevo punk drone rock that, surprisingly enough, still seems to be in vogue somewhere and somewhat.  I wouldn't call it essential music, but the feeling and approach seem to echo various mid/late-seventies under-the-underground efforts that sure meant a whole lot back in them times. Too bad there are way too many more modern tipoffs that date this which doesn't really do my prejudiced musical tastes any good but then again, who cares what I think or say anymore? You certainly don't and I'm still wondering why you're even tuning in to read what I have to say anymore!

***

The Nomads-SHOWDOWN 2-CD-r burn set (originally on Sympathy For The Record Industry)

The early material is fine. I sure remember when Imants Krumins was hipping us all to these guys via the pages of THE MOLE back inna mid-eighties callin' 'em a fantastico cross between the Sonics, Link Wray and some other tippy top acts whose names escape me. That's when I rushed out to buy WHERE THE WOLFBANE BLOOMS as well as some other fun rarities that I never was able to latch onto unless you count a limited edition cassette collection that was flying around at the time. Back then the Nomads seemed like the perfect prescription for the eighties lull in music,,,hard antagonizing rock that really resensified your brain and made you feel like a prime mammal once more. But those days were short if sweet.

The later Nomads records, like many other eighties high hopes and promises who just managed to ruin everything they once stood for within the span of a few measly singles, just didn't cut it, sounding too well produced and smooth for the tastes of a music-starved craver such as myself. I eventually dumped these guys from my must have list feeling even more hurt because...well they all shoulda knowed better what with being fans of the great sixties Northwest groups and Dictators and all of those other long-forgotten faves who were so needed in the middle of the rock 'n roll dry spell! But hey, at least I still had the rush of sixties garage band samplers to keep me well and good, and there was always something old, or even new, to discover that helped make the mid-eighties every bit as bubbling under energetic as the mid-seventies were!

This double disc set captures the Nomads at both stages of their career, first as a powerful punk rock (in the best seventies obscure rock critic sorta way) band and later on as a slowly burning out bunch who seemed to be resting on their previous image more'n anything else that can be humanly explained. I know it's hard to keep up the power and the pressure especially after an initial success but the later material just sounds more FM radio "Classic Rock" than high-spirited garage band boom boom, and you don't even have to be Nostradamus to see that the band was slowly if surely enough "maturing" in a direction that I sure wouldn't want to go in no matter how starved for a rock album I might be. And you can hear it all here in between the stunning cover versions of "Cinderella" and "Showdown" as the band slogs through numbers that might have even put a smile on John Cougar's face!.

Sheesh, it ain't like I'm not in favor of groups learning how to play their gear and displaying an evolution in sound and approach from year to year and record to record, but why did they always have to end up sounding closer to MTV gush or FM blubber anyway? At least the Sonics and Wailers knew enough to break up once their records started to sound like the antithesis of everything they stood for the past ten years...somebody shoulda given the Nomads the message a whole lot earlier and who knows, maybe I can even listen to their early great outings without doing a little bit of a wince.

MOOM PITCHER DOUBLE FEATURE REVIEW! PICK UP (1975) and HUSTLER SQUAD (1976)!

I'm still making my way through the Crown International BIG SCREEN BOMBSHELLS set where these two wonders appear, but the first of these features just doesn't upchuck the kind of funzies I was sure hoping for on a lost afternoon. PICK UP's the story of these two hippie chicks who are...what else but...picked up inna middle of nowhere (in this case the wilds of Florida) by some equally free spirited guy who's supposed to be delivering a recreational vehicle (which looks more like a cheaply converted city bus) to a client in Tallahassee. Soon a hurricane sets in (the radio announcer who's giving weather info sounds oddly enough like Howard Cosell thus dating this one even better'n a carbon test could!) and the three end up lost in the everglades of all places as a result. There they experience flashbacks, get nekkid, walk around experiencing nature and have to endure being filmed in boring surrealistic situations that only go to prove that maybe someone should have shot Fellini before all of that arthouse symbolism got way out of hand!

Yeah I know, what do artzy open-ended scenes have to do with a clientele whose legs are probably up in the sky more than the 101st Airborne's anyway. I mean, do you think that the drive in crowd was actually watching this 'un 'stead of the interiors of their partners' underclothes? For a girly flick aimed at the horny teenage populace the folks at Crown sure looked like they were putting a little too much effort into trying to win some award at Cannes, though I will confess that the weird, tarot reading gal who loves to listen to Bach had a good sorta Morticia Addams with boobs creepiness to her. Especially in that weird altar scene where the spirit of Apollo actually sticks it to her and sticks it good!

I much preferred flick #2, HUSTLER SQUAD which is a strange World War II thriller that actually works as a fun  sit down and get engrossed in the durn thing flick. Originally titled THE DIRTY HALF DOZEN, this 'un's a crafty ripoff set in the South Pacific where some maverick "never by the books" officer is recruited to lead a mission of four down on their luck gals behind enemy lines in order to murder a number of high ranking Japanese officers having a summit meeting at a Filipino cathouse. The standard lay 'em and slay 'em line, with a crew that thankfully ain't one of those straight outta central casting clichesville films (y'know, the kid from Brooklyn who never had a chance, though we do get the innocent wench with a few months to live). In fact, the closest one outta anything from the original DIRTY DOZEN just happens to be this horny gal who was sent to prison because she slit her John's throat, which I guess would be the Telly Savalas role only with hair onna head and a functioning finger!

Acting's just right (even with some of the sleepwalking minor roles such as that of the bald, bespectacled Colonel) and I can get over some of the obv. modern toss ins given they didn't have the budget to get some of those classic 1943 urinals to use for the men's room scene.  The action does build with thankfully the right amount of humor added if only to lighten things up a bit (which gives this film a sorta M*A*S*H appeal I reckon---I mean, why argue with success?), and although HUSTLER SQUAD is actually a little bare in the tit department (you know what I mean) it still manages to tingle your excitement meter with a boffo look and ne'er a hint of downtime (and you'll be holding it in until the end I'll betcha!). BEST OF ALL, there's none of that sentimentally mawkish and self-important goo you find in those modern World War II "Greatest Generation" kinda flicks that might have the big budget and realistic gore but come off just as sanctimonious and cornball as those old 'n sentimental at times b-flicks my dad sez had his army unit hollering in ridicule and disbelief...just fun, energy and gals here w/o the sappiness. So pod'ner which will it be...HUSTLER SQUAD or SAVING PRIVATE RYAN??? The choice is up to you!

As you can obviously tell, I'm really hungerin' for the rough and tumble days of seventies rockscreed (so sorrily missing in an era which has raised the college paper hack to in excelsis douchebag status). In fact, I'm hot for that gonzoid trot so much that I actually bought yet another crumbling issue of THE NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS to absorb, and after that one yet ANOTHER (which has yet to arrive) as well as a 1972 vintage CREEM that I only just recently realized I have never read before (as if anyone could blame me what with Leon Russell on the cover). So yeah, you can say that the next few weeks here at BLOG TO COMM central are gonna be pretty fun-filled, information-packed and deeply rockist satisfying for this particular human, and if you do happen to read this opening schpiel instead of jump to the review portion like you're most likely to please...if you must call me do so before seven inna evening because, let's just say, I now have BETTER things to do with my ever-dwindling free time that blab on about your latest ebay acquisitions!

March 9, 1974...a pretty good time for rockism if you ask me even if there was still a whole lotta crap out there inna music world to wade through in that quest for the real squeal. And as you'd expect, NME was still on a roll after the acquisition of both Nick Kent and Charles Shaar Murray with the former contributing not only a particularly wired Lou Reed interview (the one which was probably the reason Lou wanted to lock himself in a room with Kent and beat the heck outta him!) but a gigundo review of the latest Todd Rundgren platter (TODD) that reads really swell even though I doubt I'd want to pick that album up even if you bit me. Not only that but there's yet another interview Kent conducted appearing in these pages, this one with none other than Dr. John who's obviously a fellow who had a hard time staying awake if Kent's comments are to be believed! Let's just say that its the little things in life like these pieces that make it easier to endure all of the harsh realities like work, arguments, constipation...

Charles Shaar Murray's submissions can't be denied either, even if he gets to do his 1000th Led Zeppelin piece which probably doesn't differ (that much) from the other 999 but I'll read just about anything the guy wrote 'cept maybe his article in the OZ "Schoolkids" issue. Murray also gets to review pub rock legends Chilli Willi live at the Marquee and not much else which is too bad since it seems as if it was his and Kent's scribblings which were keeping the paper afloat even if the rest of the coverage via the likes of Roy Carr and Tony Stewart wasn't anything to sneeze at. But hey, are you really that interested in reading yet another Jimmy Savile profile especially after all of the bad news that came out about him after his own 86-ing a few years back (and he seemed like such a nice guy too!)??? Me neither, but it does serve its purpose well...I think.

Biggest surprises---none other than Mick Farren's very first piece for the paper, a fannish yet concise feature on none other than STAR TREK which at the time was just beginning to leap outta syndicated rerun limbo and into that stellar universe of spinoff movies, television series and flea markets fulla broken toy gadgets. Also heavily noteworthy are the contribs of none other'n Chrissie Hynd (still sans "e") who gets to review the rising up the charts Alvin Stardust album as well as a live performance by none other than Magma (!!!) where she gets to prove to us lumpen dolts that she knew who Coltrane and Elvin Jones were long before we did! Like I said the lady shoulda stayed with the NME 'stead of trotting off for the greener pastures of rock stardom because hey, her musical career certainly didn't produce any startling gems of brilliance the way Farren's, Lester Bangs', Lenny Kaye's or a few dozen more scribes turned tunesmiths' most certainly had!

If only I could keep the thrill I got reading this 'un going full-tilt then maybe I wouldn't need ibogaine injections. Whatever, it does put to rest the notion that the early/mid-seventies were such a dungheap that we hadda rely on Donny Osmond singles to lift us out of our decidedly anti-rock doldrums!

***

OK now, back to the present. Although I often scoff at the dribble that passes for rock critiquing or fandom or what-have-ya these days, I will say that there are still a number of good rock scribes engaging in what I would call intelligent and cohesive writing. Other than me, there are the denizens of certain blogs who still crank it out with an attitude that comes off as if it were still 1979 and it's a case of you vs. the rest of the world, and of course there are the few remaining fanzines (and their creators) that one woulda thought had keeled over for good once the eighties/nineties-era of these self-produced rants eventually petered out in the age of internet.

DAGGER is but one of those surviving fanzines that, remarkably enough, is not only still pumping it out on all cylinders but doing a pretty durn good job of it as well. The latest issue (#46) ain't as big as previous all-outs and editor Tim Hinely has returned to a layout similar to his mag's earlier endeavors, but the writing's just as etapoint as ever and even an eighties-hater such as myself can slip in real smoothly to such features as Tim's interview with former Death of Samantha leader John Petkovic and a piece on the Go-Betweens' Grant McLennan, something which might have registered some deeply held rockist stirrings in my soul had I only heard the group in the first place!

Only two pages of reviews (in fact, only TEN pages of mag!) but hey, ten pages of high energy rock writing like this sure beats a whole internet fulla the sons and daughters of the Christgau-bred dorks who still think they are making a concise and important statement detailing for you the various larval stages of Courtney Love's crab lice. Check the link on the left for a copy, that is if you're one reader who would so dare venture out from the safe confines of this sainted yet "horse-blindered" blog to read something with a different shall we say..."perspective".

***

Wellwellwell...the past week sure went by fast now, didn't it? Time for another rundown of what I have been listening to and what I think about it put into language you just might be able to understand. As you can see, there's not much in the way of writeups again but it ain't for lack of trying. Actually I have been listening to a load a goodies when the opportunity arises, only a lotta of the things I am spinning are old favorites which I've noticed go down a whole lot smoother at beddy bye time than a new offering which often stimulates and agitates my back brain to the point where I'm up until three in the morning trying to think up new synonyms for dungheap. I've got at least one interesting change o' pace planned that I just might unleash on you the week after if not next week, but until then you'll just have to suffer through the goodies I have lined up for you THIS time...


High Rise-PSYCHOBOMB; DISPERSION CDs (PSF Japan)

When a dribble of info regarding the new generation of Japanese psychedelic rock began hitting our shores in the late-eighties, High Rise were among the first acts to get the hi-ho hosannas in the pages of all the hipper than you'll ever be fanzines and "alternative weeklies" out there in Notice Me land. I remember, because I was a guy who was always on the lookout for a new group or musical movement to sink my claws into, and the hype popping up about the group made 'em out to be the biggest hard growl heard since the likes of Motorhead! Only this wasn't some sorta new wave of heavy metal shuck that didn't seem that much different from the lame metal groups permeating the late-seventies, but a psychedelic rock group that took that over-used term and injected a good hunkerin' load of freshness into it. And hey, maybe what we all needed back the was a fresh dose of lysergic music to save us from all of that antiseptic quap that the eighties were well known for!

From all respectable reports High Rise were beyond heavy metal, a total assault on the senses unheard of since Blue Cheer just happened to kill some stray dog that wandered into the Avalon by the sheer force of their volume. Of course that's something which always seems to affect dogs more than humans considering all of those brain-churning frequencies they're subjected to, but from what I've heard there were many humans who were adversely affected by the overload as well.

Still can't find that early High Rise album which remains lodged somewhere in my collection, but I did decide to latch onto these still available PSF releases which I was at least hoping would have recreated the entire Japanese psychorock experience that was extant on that now elusive platter. And, as usual, I was right for both of these disques splatter the listener with the massive concrete wall of sound that groups like Les Rallizes Denudes first aped before an entire generation of Japanese kiddoes picked up on the hard ramalama and drove it into areas that kinda frighten me, especially after dark.

PSYCHOBOMB's a live album that was recorded during the group's 2000 US tour, and it's the High Rise I remember most from that early album as well as a variety of bootleg 10-CD sets that were cluttering up the ebay listings a good eight or so years back. The sound's great, the audience's fever pitched, and the performance is all-out sonic drive that once again makes terms such as acid rock and heavy metal obsolete especially in the light of the commercial fluff that music had become thanks to Andy Secher and the rest of the HIT PARADER flacks. Total pounce upon the senses attack here which is ultra-driving and perhaps even maddening, and if you were one to come into hard rock via its late-sixties birth and grew up with it as it came to age in the early-seventies, this just might be the last stop on the trip before you totally lose you mind to your old Voi Vod albums.

DISPERSION's a studio affair which, surprisingly enough, shows High Rise moving to and fro with not only the expected hard-driving numbers but slower efforts that work on you like an earwig slowly boring its way through your psyche. With an almost early-seventies-ish sense of drive, the trio weave in and out of various psychmodes playing both hot and cold at times with a particularly downer groove that comes about as close to WHITE LIGHT/WHITE HEAT than anything else I've heard recently. In fact if I were one of those early-seventies rock critics who were trying to find some sense of sanity as the sixties were slowly sliding into something that perhaps wasn't as thrilling as we thought it would be, I would be heavily tacking the ol' Velvet Underground influence pockmark of quality onto this 'un (had it been around) the same way many of these now-forgotten crits were doing the same thing to everyone from the Magic Tramps, Sidewinders, Patti Smith and Link Wray!

These two may be old hat to you by now, but given the dearth of recent (and for me recent means the past three decades!) rockist items that affect me in a base, driving way both of these High Rise offerings sound mighty pleasing. Definitely ones that'll worm their way into your heart, among other things I'm sure.

***

Various Artists-SOPHISTICATED HARD-UP SUNDAY GOSSIP CD-r (sent in by Bill Shute)

A different 'n usual collection here as it has not one or two but THREE quick-o sitar cash-ins that came out just after George Harrison boosted sitar stock 1000% when he coulda been extolling the musical joys of the flute-o-phone. Chim Kothari does an exemplary job introducing your folks to the charms of the instrument viz his rendition of the theme from THE SOUND OF MUSIC, while V. Balsara and his Singing Sitar handle the old wop classic "A Man Without Love" well enough to get him plenty of tips at an Eyetalian restaurant when the guy with the bandanna and violin is too sick to show up for work. And Assie Tsahar and Tatsuya Nakatani----wait, they give us some weirdo free sounding neo-avant sorta jazz, but with a name like Tsahar I woulda sworn it was more of that southern asian music created to heighten the vindaloo experience at Paul McGarry's favorite Indian eatery!

The rest of this varies between Bill's c&w-fixated twangdom to hard enough for me bop (Cooper-Moore's "Part 4 blues for Jaki Byard") as well as some Japanese sixties rock romps from the Spiders and Roosters. One big surprise: the appearance of that Rockin' Horse single on Greg Shaw's Voxx label that I, and presumably you, missed out on the first time around in the early-eighties. Not that I missed much, but it's a good one to hear at least once and you know, I'm glad I did.

***

Charles Gayle Trio-LOOK UP CD (ESP-disk)

Got a tip-off about this recent (2012) platter on the reactivated ESP label and yeah, it is a wowzer in the proverbial sense! I remember when the hubbub about Charles Gayle began fermentulating in the early-nineties---y'know, that he was the last in a generation of free jazz players to be discovered and that he was the spiritual successor to Coltrane, Coleman and the rest of the batch---and like I'm sure a good many of you readers were I wasn't too sure myself as to whether or not this was just fresh hype or the actual fanabla. Well as time has shown and the man has proved, Gayle definitely is as much a top notch hotcha player as his mentors, and the stack of recordings he's left us over the past few decades are evidence as just how much powerful avant garde jazz has been unleashed on us these past few decades. Only we never did have enough moolah to buy out the entire New Music Distribution Service catalog like we always wanted to do, and even a good quarter-century later we're still kicking ourselves for not latching on to the things we coulda picked up for a mere $6.98 way back when!

Great free playing here courtesy our star, who besides blowing his brains out on tenor sax also tries his hand at bass clarinet with rather Dolphy-esque precision. (Gayle has always been a fairly competent master at handling various non-woodwind instruments as his solo piano and violin, not forgetting his drum work with the Blue Humans has shown.) Some unknown named Michael Bisio plays bass, while Michael Wimberly (a name that should be familiar to people who used to hang out at the old CBGB Lounge during the Dee Pop-curated free music nights) is perhaps the best up-and-coming drummer in a sphere which really doesn't have as many adherents as it most certainly deserves.

The performance is fierce (not quite Ayler filtered through a perhaps even angrier Shepp), free and at times you really do have to strain your ears to hear the quiet parts but watch out when the free play starts up lest you be blasted outta your easy chair!

Best of all, Gayle even devotes some time to doing some of his street preaching here, and since this is the part of the man's oeuvre that upsets most of his "progressive" fans you can bet that many of 'em'll be thinking up unique excuses for liking the man despite his admonitions against breaking up fecal matter lodged in the Hershey highway using Mister Salami and other things enlightened people like to do. You might want to think up a few for yourselves as well...I mean, you really must look your very on-top-of-it-all best when you post YOUR two cents on whatever on-line forums there may be where people of your ilk discuss just how superior you all are to the past few millennium of civilization now, don't you!

For those of you who just couldn't care one white either way, a top notch release from the re-activated ESP, and one you'll probably be spinning a whole lot more'n Bill Horwitz that's for sure!

***

Soft Machine-THE EARLIEST RECORDINGS; LIVE 1967-1969 (both of these are on the B13 label originating from [perhaps] the former Soviet Union)

Coming in just under the wire are these two items that the people at the mysterioso B13 label  thought you'd just might like to hear, even if some of you probably have heard 'em before. Both of these platters were recorded by the infamous Soft Machine, but instead of those oft-repro'd BYG demos that have been roaming budget bins for ages here are some real interesting niceties that you might want to splurge a little bitta cash on, if you're a fan of the group that is.

I passed on the early pre-Soft Machine recordings when they hit the CD circuit about two decades back, but now that they're pressed up on vinyl 'n all I thought maybe I should snatch this 'un up before it was too late. And y'know what, this one's  good enough (even better'n the Wildeflowers collection!) that I wish I bought the thing way back when! Culled from various rehearsal tapes as well as a live "Daevid Allen Trio" gig at the Marquee, the proto-Softs surprisingly beat everybody else to the punch with their mix of rock 'n roll. r 'n b and avant garde jazz at a time when the competition were still trying to figure out the chords to "FBI"! You could say that a good portion of this platter was just amateurish crank out, but for a buncha English sissies trying to act all boho and all this is surprisingly sturdy with little pretension or put on which usually makes these basement recordings so hard to sit through.

At times the music is free enough and even more out there than what the likes of Coltrane and Coleman were up to at the same time (1962-1963!)...not only that but there is quite an AACM-ish groove to the free-splat energy play which is surprising to hear considering just where the minds of most youth (in England and the rest of the sphere) were at that very same nanosecond. It's almost inconceivable...I mean even Frank Zappa was still doing fifties schtick and Varese swipes at this time, little of which could match the boho drive that these future Soft Machiners were coming up with! That trip to Paris really must have made an impression on 'em considering their rather appropriate understanding of the "new thing" happening around them!


LIVE 1967-1969 isn't really "live" but the group's earliest John Peel sessions, the first side being the '67 one when Kevin Ayers was holding down the guitar and bass chores while Mike Ratledge played organ and flute and Robert Wyatt drummed (as well as played 'cello and a few other instruments if Lillian Roxon can be trusted). It's really interesting to hear this not only because it is the Soft Machine at the beginning of their album-oriented career, but because Kevin Ayers had yet to affect that basso profundo vox he was very well known and remembered for. Not only that but the early versions of material later to end up on Ayers' albums show a remarkable primitiveness and approach that almost make them entirely different numbers! Fans of the ABC albums would do well to pick this one up if only for the a-side, while those who like the group's more "fusion"-y material will definitely enjoy the flip to hear the '69 version of the group crank through a medley of tracks from THIRD before Wyatt performs the very same "Moon In June" that later appeared on the TRIPLE ECHO box set. And if you thought that was a chore to listen to let me tell you things haven't changed.

MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! THE HAIRY APE (1944) starring William Bendix and Susan Hayward!

You know, at first I was kinda/sorta disappointed. Just like Archie Bunker was when he went to see LAST TANGO IN PARIS thinking it was gonna be some musical-type thing with Gene Kelly dancing around the Eiffel Tower. Can you imagine me settling down in front of the toob with popcorn in hand expectin' some mid-forties comedy with some gorilla loose in a hotel room like in the Three Stooges or somethin', only instead gettin' this "freely adapted" drama that was written by that top-class schmuck Eugene O'Neill??? As anyone with fanabla for brains knows that don't spell anything funtime for a suburban slob like me who has, for quite a long time, tried to steer clear of highbrow art 'n culture unless it was a painting of a nekkid lady or sculpture even.

But hey, I found this 'un good even if it is typical sixties/seventies weekend afternoon tee-vee fodder you used to sit through if only because the station might run some cartoons to fill out the hour. William Bendix plays the coal-stoking Yank, a guy who is quite a brash blowhard himself who certainly is the loudmouth among his fellow shipmates. Yank happens to get into a really "revoltin' development" when rich snoot Susan Hayward, a deb who makes Veronica Lodge look like Moms Mabley, traipses down to the boiler room to get a look at the hoi polloi and is totally revolted by him, calling Yank an ape to his very face. Usually a comment of this caliber isn't anything to rattle a hard-living 'n drinking sorta guy who gets into brawls whenever the insult arises, but this time something really clicks in his brain and makes him a living zombie. And hey, I should know about this sorta malady because although I've been able to toss off the asides many a time, sometimes there are those zings and barbs that catch you when either your resistance is low or your stress is gettin' the better of you, and boy do they stay with you the rest of your sorry life!

All Yank wants is his revenge, or at least an apology, or some sort of "closure" as the fru frus like to call it, and he wants it so bad he even treks to the lady's Manhattan apartment to bash one out of her. The first attempt fails but afterwards...well, I don't wanna spoil things for you but you just might like how THE HAIRY APE ends up, and it doesn't end up the way O'Neill had originally written it which is something I know you'll certainly be glad to hear about!

Bendix is great as Yank and if you're a true blue trodden under type you'll appreciate the desperation and gloom his performance exudes. Susan Hayward looks fabuloso here (the bathtub scene'll bring a whole slew of below the belly button palpitations in any red-blooded reader!) and man, do you wanna bash her face in the way she bitches it up to the hilt. Also be onna lookout for Alfred himself Alan Napier as the chief engineer, and surprisingly enough in 1944 he looked as old as he did on BATMAN a good 22 years later! I guess that means that if you want people to think you look good for your age, start looking ancient when you're twenty and by the time you do get old they'll be asking you for your anti-aging secrets!

Whenever I get that hot 'n horny feeling for the seventies and them boxes of old CREEM magazines inna closet just don't fill the bill, the one thing I like to do is purchase some classic, previously unread by moi "Golden Age of Rock Scribbling" publication and soak in even more of that special aura you just can't get outta what passes for "criticism" (or just plain ol' fandom) these sorry days. I've pretty much picked up most if not all of the original Lester Bangs-period CREEMs extant and them old fanzines are hard to come by, so once-in-awhile a '72-'79 or so issue of the NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS fresh off an ebay auction is something that really helps me fulfill all my earthly needs. Yeah the news to be found inside might by up to forty years old, but the energy and spark these papers could emit (thanks to a totally punkoid attitude that was rather alien in a world of cyborg electronic rock mummery) continues to pump on all cylinders which is more than I can say about 99.99999...% of whatever might be offered up via the current "rock press" let alone cheap amateurs trying their hand at the "rock criticism" game via blogger. And yes, in many ways I too am a guilty old sod even if I have been practicing this without a license for a way longer time than I can care to imagine, and I truly am sorry (well...not really...).

Y'see, unlike many of you rich kids out there I was never one who could find let alone afford the NME over here in the middle of Nowheresville USA (MELODY MAKER used to be my choice of English Weekly fodder if only because it was the only thing one could find at the various short-lived small record stores). It was definitely my loss because hey, I sure would have loved to have been reading this 'un as a blank-minded 14-year-old 'stead of the pooperoo that was offered me, and who knows but if I had only been exposed to the likes of the NME staff raving on about Iggy and Mott when I was younger and more susceptible maybe I coulda gotten my own rock fandom "career" off at an earlier age. Well, it sure as shooting sure beat drawing all of those "Rats Reagan" cartoons nobody in their right mind would want to read!

Got the May 18th, 1974 issue and it's a pretty good doozy of a paper. In fact the quality's so good that I wonder just how the folks behind it could keep the energy and quality going on a weekly basis for all those years. Or at least until the original prime movers gave way to a new generation that never did know which way the wind was blowing 'em into the abyss. And hey, that generation of prime movers sure produced a whole lot of top-notch writing from the likes of Charles Shaar Murray and Nick Kent (Mick Farren wasn't on board yet) not forgetting Ian MacDonald which makes these magazines indispensable for the standard runna-da-mill pre-glitz takeover rock freaks that we have been for years and most truly remain (I hope!). Each and every word plucked outta the typewriters of these guys is worthy of not only minute study but down on your knees hosannas, and frankly you do gotta give thanks because if it weren't for scribes like these what would the English Music Paper crowd have to do than look forward to other than the weekly ramblings of Chris Welch plugging away at the more technowhiz side of sixties rock upping toffee nose at anything even remotely "punk"???

Kent seems to be in short supply this edition, with a short but sweet article on Brian Eno, co-credits (with Roy Carr) on a Pink Floyd album rundown and a review of Kevin Ayers' CONFESSIONS OF DOCTOR DREAM, but Murray sure sent in a heavy dosage of rockist sputum to be dealt with including a feature article on the under-rated Mike Nesmith and a career retro on Mott the Hoople which really do take up more'n the expected amount of space that was usually allotted to the more gonzoid scribes around. Kinda think of it in the terms of a ROLLING STONE of the same time period, only with the likes of Lenny Kaye and Gene Sculatti taking up a huge portion of the mag while the down pat hippies only got a few meager morsels tossed their way!

What really makes this a top notch ish just happens to be the half-page or so article/interview with...MELANIE (as in shaggy hippie "Brand New Key" Melanie) conducted by none other than Chrissie Hynd (without the "e" at the end) long before her Pretenders days. I think it was pretty funny when papers like the NME would assign their "gunslingers" to interview or generally rave on about some downright scuzzoid performers and the scribes in question are of course expected to turn in a solid, editorial-free piece highlighting the artist in question's "talents". It was expected that they did, but rarely if ever was their objectiveness ever delivered on and you can really see the disgust and contempt Hynd has for her tinkle bell subject even if you have to read way between the lines to really understand it. It's too bad the lady didn't continue on with her writing career, because from the few things I've read of her NME contributions we sure coulda used a lot more of her articles and a lot less of her singing!

Was it boffo reading??? NATURALLY IT WAS!!! Am I getting another classic-era issue into my hairy palms shortly??? OF COURSE I AM, AND AS SOON AS I DO I'M GONNA WRITE IT UP AND TELL ALL YOU GATHERED GUYS JUST WHAT A FUN TIME I HAD POURING THROUGH YET ANOTHER ISSUE!!! OK, I know it is impolite to yell, but this stuff (even Ian MacDonald's review of Sparks' KIMONO MY HOUSE and the Charles Gillett contributions) is just as good as any Amerigan gonzoid or fanzine offering of the day, and the more I read of this the more I want to grab Jann Wenner, tie him up and stick sharp objects into his torso! But I better not...I do get the feeling that he'd kinda like it...

(Velvetphiles take note---the Velvet Underground reunion mentioned on the cover was not exactly the kind you would have hoped for. Actually the tempting headline was only a come on for the upcoming and infamous ACNE [Ayers, Cale, Nico and Eno] show that eventually came out as a live album soon to frequent many a flea market nationwide. The page three blurb does mention that Lou Reed was originally scheduled to take part in this one-off gig but backed out due to previous engagements, though frankly without the presence of Sterling Morrison and Maureen Tucker I dunno if one could call this a bonafeed reunion (even w/Reed) without stretching the honest truth quite a bit.

A CREEM item mentioning a reunion with Eno scheduled to take the place of Reed did appear shortly thereafter and I do recall that Tucker herself said that she was unaware of any reunion plans but that she would have been glad to have hitched up, so who knows? Maybe the plans regarding a seventies VU with Eno taking Reed's place was more than just idle rockfan gossip even though it did seen rather far fetched I'm sure even then! Another one of those "it could have beens", though of course it ain't as good a downright rock fantasy as my dream this past March where in 1972 news that Andy Warhol was going to reform the Velvets with the addition of not only David Bowie but himself on rhythm guitar and rhythm guitar only was swirling across my fevered subconscious, and you know that fantasy would have been a much more interesting deal than what did transpire in the early nineties! Well, at least the album would have been a boffo mid-seventies cut out bargain, and I probably would have waited until it was marked down to 99-cents before I'd buy it!)

***

And with that, tally ho on to this week's record and Cee Dee reviews! I managed to get a little more'n I would have expected out this time, and of course the freebee items which I have received have also helped out so to all of you disque burners out there, thanks a heaping hunk! I even managed to buy a few things with my own hard-begged, so let's just say that I ain't the no account mooch that I sometimes come off like even if I hardly have two pennies to rub together! And so, without further somethingorother...

Various Artists-APRIL SPECTATOR FLUTE BIRD MAMA CD-r burn (courtesy of Bill Shute)

Swinging selection I must admit, from zilch-rate covers to down home (and even further down) country twang to the same kinda e-zy listening that your Unca Ferd used to settle back with in his den with the doors locked and headphones on while you and your cousins were getting into a rumble inna other room over a game of Mouse Trap gone foul. Coulda done without James Stewart's recitation of "Shenendoah" (an blatant movie tie in, and an obv. bandwagon jump on considering Walter Brennan's and Lorne Greene's successes with the spoken word chart toppers "Old Rivers" and "Ringo") but at least it has Diana Dors singing away as well as some oddities like a swinging pop number based on the movie BROKEN BLOSSOMS! Made me feel like the downtrodden and spat upon member of the Silent Majority I most truly am, even with the beyond-passable cover of "The Kids Are All Right" done up by some clandestine copycats called the Mopp Tops!

***

BOZO AND HIS ROCKET SHIP/TOM AND JERRY AT THE CIRCUS/LUKE THE SINGING DUCK CD-r burn (thanks to Bill Shute)

This trio of 78 rpm kiddie records  pressed up on a single disque reminds me of when I was a kid...not because any of these spinners were being played around the old abode but because they conjure up memories of back when I was about ten or so and I'd go traipsing through some relative's attic or basement looking for old things, and most likely they had items like these records stuck away somewhere or other. Of course that wasn't what I was on the look out for...I was more interested in finding things like newspapers with old comic strips or neat toys that hadn't been broken by some older cousin who was now more apt to be breaking open clogged pores in front of the bathroom mirror. Records like this? That was sissy stuff more suitable for the "Sids" (an old family term denoting pantywaists) in your life 'n not the he-man red-blooded type o' suburban slob you and I were and most hopefully will REMAIN.

I never did like Bozo the Clown for reasons I might go into in a future post, but for those who do here's an early Capitol label record and book which has a story you can follow by turning the page when the special sound effect tips you off. Here Bozo gets on his rocket ship and goes all around the world meeting up with a whole load of strange people who speak in cartoon dialects and probably reek which is why I am glad they never did get to invent smell-o-vision in order to enhance the "aura" of things. Really dullsville...kinda hoped that when Bozo landed in the USSR he'd be placed up against a brick wall and given his just desserts which woulda made for a funny NATIONAL LAMPOON during their heyday comic book spoof, but no such luck here.

As for TOM AND JERRY...when they first started running their cartoons on Saturday mornings (actually early Saturday afternoons) I thought Hanna/Barbara had lost their minds. These seemed trite and typically derivative, and what's more the animation looked so old fogey and stuck inna forties which just didn't jibe with my tastes which were definitely stuck in the fifties back then. Of course I was too stoopid to know that these were made inna forties, but when I was like six or so I must admit that I felt a bit creepy watching these cartoons...not as creepy as I felt watching MILTON THE MONSTER or THE BEAGLES, but creepy enough.

Not that this record helps their image any. Like with many of these crossover media cartoon items there seems to be little connection between the original characters and the sames ones transplanted into a new format. Naw, it ain't as bad as those thirties KRAZY KAT moom pitchers which had nada to do with the strip other'n the name and a very slight resemblance to the kat of newspaper comics fame, but it is cringe-y enough. First off the characters speak on this 'un, and they don't sound anything like you'd've imagined them to sound like inna first place. They come off more like some guy who never saw the cartoons' idea of how the two would flap their jaws. The story's equally hackneyed...a re-do of that one T&J which was a swipe of Androcles inna first place which only goes to show you...if you gotta swipe, swipe from something that was written eighteen centuries ago because the author ain't gonna sue (well, it also worked for George Bernard Shaw).

LUKE THE SINGING DUCK...like I'm gonna even bother to tell you about it. Like you wouldn't know what was in story after looking at the kissy-cutie cover. I can't tell you how many of these I tossed aside at garage sales and flea markets county-wide on the search for that elusive copy of some garage band album that certainly wasn't as easy to find as I'M IN YOU.

As for yer own kids...force feed 'em SUPERCAR and GILLIGAN'S ISLAND...stuff like this'll only turn 'em into a buncha Freddie Bartholomews and heaven knows you don't wanna pay for all those dental bills after they get their teeth knocked outta 'em by the neighborhood kids!

***

Various Artists-PAINK (French Punk Anthems 1977-1982); MOBILISATION GENERALE (Protest and Spiritual Jazz from France 1970-1976) CDs (both on Born Bad France, available through Forced Exposure)

Another "Vive la Frenchies" review here, this time honoring the Gallics in their never-ending quest to get some of that well-desired musical respect that's been so long denied 'em because well, the French have been known for rubbing snobbish Amerigans the wrong way for a lot longer time'n any of us could imagine.


Yeah, I know how many times I've heard the French couldn't play rock 'n roll. And I can recall how many times I've refuted that claim by dragging up a whole number of rock acts from the Frenchies and Rotomagus who certainly knew their way around a stage or two. PAINK is a neat collection of French punk rock rarities worthy of a Skydog issue...fourteen hotcha rockers that remind me of just how potent the entire punk credo was back inna seventies before it fragmented off into a million different directions and pretty much fizzed out into lackluster cover versions of "I Wanna Be Your Dog". Some relatively familiar names here like the Dogs show up, some recently uncovered favorites like Ruth as well as Soggy balance things out, and a whole slew of newies to my ear make me glad I decided to pick this one up after debating whether or not the exorbitant price was really worth it depression-era wages and all.

A good spin of this'll remind you exactly what punk rock meant especially in lieu of the punque rock that followed immediately. These guys weren't afraid to take on the rawer aspects of the Stooges or Velvets unlike the more superficial eighties p-rockers, coming off as "demonically intense" (copyright 1979 Charlotte Pressler) as the rest of those seventies slayers whose music had every bit the impact and energy as the originals they were obviously copping entire images offa. These guys knew which way the blood was flowin', like on Les Ollivensteins' "Eithanasie" which begins with a perfect "Out in the Streets" rip that'll have you turning your beanie it's that good! If you have the rest, this is a nice maraschino on top and if not, it's a better'n usual place to start!

MOBILISATION GENERALE does make for a fine companion and yeah, I know it's a jazz platter 'n all, but it's still as revolutionary as PAINK and at times as driving as any MC5 platter you would care to come up against. The soundtrack for the French underground political putsch of the early seventies, MOBILISATION's a top-notch sampler of the free French sound that was mostly made by actual French people and not Amerigan expats although the Art Ensemble of Chicago appear on one track. A refreshing spin even if I can't unnerstan' a word they're saying, from Areski and Brigitte Fontaine talkin' back and forth at each other to the Full Moon Ensemble and Francois Tusques playing a bit smoother than you would have hoped but that's OK. This one ebbs and flows and while it might not all by fire music it sure has a hard-edged drive that's the aural equivalent of those photos of burning cars on European streets you used to see ages back.

A quickie Berlitz course might help considering how the lyrics and booklet notes for this and PAINK are all en Francais, but considering this used to be some sort of "Universal Youth Language" to the point that we could even communicate with some aboriginal in Sweden despite any other barriers maybe it doesn't really matter what language they're jabberin' in!

Anyhoo, these two are the latest in a long line of resensifiers that I really can use especially when you consider just how "no future" the past thirtysome years have been for high energy cultists such as ourselves. Might be worth your while to snatch these up but then again, when have YOU ever listened to me in the first place? Yes, be ashamed...

***

Hackamore Brick-"Oh Those Sweet Bananas"/"Someone You Know" 45 rpm (Ugly Pop)

It's been out for a few months, but I just got this collection stuffer inna mail and I know you wanna know what I think of it. Nothing here is what I would call essential if you already have the album...even the alternate take of "Someone You Know" ain't radically different enough to cause any major heart palpitations,  but if you're a fan of the group like I am and you know you'd be bothered if this one just happened to slip past your fingers I'm sure you'd want to latch onto a copy before it's too late. And if you're still stuck in the seventies of the Flamin' Groovies, Stooges, New York Rock, CREEM and R. Meltzer well, you know that a platter like this is custom-made for your own refined tastes now, don't you!

***

Satanic Rockers-FU KUNG CD-r burn (originally on Albert's Basement, Australia)

Ain't posting the cover of this 'un...it's really durty and the family status of this blog just might be ruined if I presented for you a pic of an erect you-know-what ramming some solid boards in a John Holmes meets Bruce Lee sorta fashion. The music itself ain't that much to rave about though...sorta like reworked Flipper sludge without the narcotic influx and whatever else it was that made Flipper interesting. Kinda monotonous, and in a negative way at that. It figures Satanic Rockers woulda come outta Melbourne, and I don't mean Florida!

***

Anonymous-INSIDE THE SHADOW CD (Machu Picchu, available through Forced Exposure)

Here's a self-produced platter that originally came outta the wilds of Indianapolis in a limited edition of 300 which has really captured my imaggynation as of late. The strange thing about that li'l truth is that this 'un is being plugged as being an offering of the "progressive rock" persuasion, and if indeed it is prog music then call me Chris Welch and send this 21st Century Schizoid Man to the heart of the sunrise!

Well I gotta admit that a whole load of music I downright enjoy gets tagged as "progressive" even if I wouldn't want to be caught dead listening to any music with such a denotation considering just how listless, dull, narcissistic and downright anti-rock progressive music can be. However like it or not a whole slew of the German Expressionist acts (a.k.a. "krautrock") that I've been raving about for some time does get categorized as progressive, while some of the mid-seventies underground acts that I've enjoyed like TV Toy and Musica Orbis got the progressive tag slapped on 'em as well which does seem rather strange in retrospect. And as I've stated a few posts back, I wouldn't mind hearing some of the other "prog" groups who were playing CBGB and Max's in the seventies (and beyond) if only for historical purposes and who knows, maybe they too had enough of a garage band sway and swing to appeal to the likes of your typical reader, whatever that sort of creature may be.

Anonymous, like TV Toy, Musica Orbis and I'm sure a whole flock of other acts that were wallowing around in the rock netherworld of the day, don't sound "progressive" as in layers of mellotron strings with synthesizer blurps and keyboard rolls straight out of the advanced John Schaum learn to play book...heck, there ain't even a keyboard on this 'un and when you listen to the music images of fog machines and colored lights do not dance in one's head like the sugar plum faggots. Actually, Anonymous present for you a more late-sixties West Coast rock with all of the bad acid and shaggy leather washed out...straight ahead rock 'n roll without any of the pretense, pomp, "hey look at me I'm being artistic!" above-it-all-isms that really helped make the seventies and beyond a lousy place for me to be in control of my aural faculties.

I am reminded of the post-Flamin' Groovies mid-seventies combo Hot Knives more than I am the Jefferson Airplane name-dropping that often surrounds this release. INSIDE THE SHADOW is actually a straightforward rock album, with smooth male/femme harmonies and lots of 12-string to give your Byrds fanatic some rather embarrassing beneath the belly spasms would he happen to hear this 'un in public. And best of all, the lack of all sorta thumbs in the production pie leaves off that slick gloss and professional goo which undoubtedly had ruined many an album o'er the years. Or as I like to say sometimes, the road to a lousy album is paved with good production.

Might be one for the late-sixties followers of Love, Byrds, Grape etc. to affix themselves to. And don't let the "progressive rock" tag frighten you away...this is probably the best music I've heard wallowing under that banner in years or at least since the last time I played Angel in Heavy Syrup, another group who got the prog rock tag even though I couldn't even find a polymoog or ripoff of Bartok anywhere in their oeuvre!

BOOK REVIEW! LORD OF GARBAGE by Kim Fowley (Kicks Books, 2012)

Some love him, most hate him, but the fact remains that very few probably have heard of him let alone heard him. To most casual "classic rock" brain-numbed "lovers" of "rock 'n roll" who have, Kim Fowley's just some guy behind the scenes whose name appears on albums by the likes of Emerson Lake and Palmer not to mention the irrepressible Helen Reddy, and what AM radio luvver out there could forget about his behind-the-scenes work with the Beez back '82 way. Oh yeah, and he was involved in that Runaways thingie too. Nada more needs to be said, but us high-falutin' BLOG TO COMM readers know better now, do we?

I can't tell ya just how brain-slapping this tome for the times really is. I mean if you really must know, this is definitely the best rock 'n roll book I've read since Nick Kent came out with his own history of seventies rock/autobiography and that was a real doozy in itself! Fowley the spinner of tales, artist, hustler and (never knew it until now) poet really shines bright here, dishing out his own HOLLYWOOD BABYLON first-hand encounters of the slimier (and therefore more interesting) underbelly of the El Lay music and moom pitcher scene. The turgid sagas he relays to us in his stream-of-unconsciousness rambling style (which wouldn't work if someone other'n Fowley was up on the chopping block) really blows the cover off the slick veneer that's been presented to us suburban slobs for eons awlready as the kinda glamour and glitz we were all born to partake in as if we were just as much a star as...Douglas Fowley???

Speaking of Douglas, Kim's very own father and an actor who seemed like an affable, everyday kinda guy if his roles on THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW and a rather guffaw-inducing scene in the Joe McDoakes comedy SO YOU WANT TO BE A GAMBLER (not forgetting one of the funniest ABBOT & COSTELLO episodes) would lead you to believe,  comes off like a typical grade-z Hollywood turdball here. I'm not talking about the part where young Kim is told to be a lookout for the fuzz while Doug and his pals imbibe in the evils o' maryjane and heroin, nor the part where he walks into his room and discovers Doug's fellow actor John Garfield using cocaine for a purpose that is clearly not medicinal, but in reality pop was quite a different fellow'n the good guy who used to pop up in various EAST SIDE KIDS films as the older brother doomed to the electric chair. Somehow I just can't fathom that dignified looking mustachioed actor sticking needles in his arm but hey, as Kenneth Anger has proven Hollywood really was known to bring out the beast (and maybe The Beast) in quite a few people.

But a whole lot is here, from Kim's early days being shuttled off to relatives by a rather self-centered mother to his start in the music biz and various sidesteps and mishaps thereof. Some of it's pretty hilarious such as the part where Jan and Dean are on the prowl looking to beat someone up starting with Roger Williams (!), others can be downright scary, but a lot come off smirky humorous. Whatever, the whole saga is educational, informative, guffaw-inducing, entertaining and a breeze to read through on one of them lonely nights when you have nothing better to do than settle back in your easy chair and osmose ancient ideas of rockist tendencies in an age which couldn't care one whit anymore.

And naturally, there are questions brought up that remain unanswered...for example there's the story about the relationship between Fowley and Seeds lead singer Sky Saxon which, if you can take Fowley's word at it, was always cordial even if it only amounted to a "howdy" here and a "good day" there. If so, then why was the very last Fowley/Saxon meeting played out in Las Vegas when  Saxon snuck up behind a dancing Fowley and sucker punched him with a pair of brass knuckles? Seems that there was a whole lot simmerin' between the two for years that led to this "knockout game" and of course, my inquiring mind wants to know more'n the tad info Fowley sprinkles about. (Likewise, the sagas regarding Fowley's associations with Frank Zappa and his "membership" in the Mothers of Invention are more or less glossed over---I mean, for years I, like you I'm sure, have been wanting to know what the heck a "hype-o-phone" is and how the thing is played for that matter!) Maybe the answers to these and other questions will pop up in part two (which, along with part three, has already been written but the folks at Kicks books don't wanna overload or craniums and besides they'll make more money offa us, which they most certainly deserve to do).

One of the best rock reads so far this year...as the guy trying to push the slow-moving records always sez, "highly recommended".

Sorry it took me a longer time to get this weekend post out than it took John Holmes to pee, but the usual problems did arise. Boy, that real life thing can really get to you sometimes...sure wish they'd come up with a cure for it other'n the patented bullet to the brain! Still, at least it keeps me off the streets and out of trouble, so maybe I shouldn't squawk so much about doctors appointments, work (ugh!) and those other things that keep me from my true calling in life. Mainly plopping on a nice soft comfy chair and reading old MAD, HELP! and TV GUIDE magazines while albums and other pre-recorded forms of entertainment spin on whatever piece of by-now outdated technology I deem appropriate. It sure does ease those pangs over getting over the fact that it's not 1979 anymore (not that I'd ever want to go back to that dreadful year but sheesh, if I only had the money to buy all of those records I missed out on the first time...).

Well, I see you made your way through the Kennedy assassination anniversary intact too. Thankfully I just managed to stay away from both the tee-vee and the radio in order to spare myself from all of the brow-beating and clothes rendering that I just knew was gonna transpire this past Friday, and stayed on the computer where I could at least control what was going into my skull in a way that I'm sure then-prez Kennedy sure wish he coulda that fateful day!

Fortunately Don Fellman decided to give me a ring-a-ding which also kept me busy for a good part of the evening (little did I know as a turdler that when I'd be a well grizzled adult a man with that name would be talking to me via long distance and helping me make it through a solid prime time of retrospective misery!). During our conversation I was racking his brain for any assassination jokes or riddles that may have been going through his playground at the time, but the only one he could muster up was "What is Caroline Kennedy getting for Christmas? A jack-in-the-box!"...didn't say that any of these jokes were good, but at least they served that sick purpose that thankfully still remain meaningful to us lo these many years later.

Kinda skimpy in the reviews dept. this week. Like I said the free time to put one of these jambus packtus posts out just wasn't there this week and besides, the inspiration not to mention cash flow has been rather dribble-like to the point where I've been spending my by-now long and dark evening hours sacked out in the comfy chair in my room staring out the window while listening to Albert Ayler blow his sanity out through his alto. And with a little gumption and assertiveness maybe you can do it too!

But soldier on I must, and considering that national holiday coming up in a few days maybe we should be thankful I was able to crank this much rock fandom of a questionable caliber out!


Fabian-HOLD THAT TIGER! LP (Rumble, Europe)

We all remember the great line Eddie Haskell once spewed to Beaver, "If it can happen to Fabian, it can happen to anyone!" And yeah, during a time when a&r men from a wide variety of record labels were scouring the neighborhoods of South Philadelphia looking for wop-a-dago boys with a modicum of talent, how could a guy like Fabian escape the scrutiny of Chancellor Records, the same label that brought Frankie Avalon to national fame 'n fortune at a time when late-fifties wildcat sounds were starting to mutate into a thing that was just a little...different...

I won't go out on a limb and say that the early-sixties musical scene was all "wimp rock" as many pundits out there have been drilling it into our heads these past fortysome years. I can rattle off a whole slew of acts both national and local that made the 1960-1963 airwaves and/or dancefloors a real pleasure (and yeah you may get up on your high soap horse box and complain about all of the Singing Nun folkies and Frank Ifield types who were raking in the raves back then, but I'll only counteract ya'n mention the tons of instrumental surf groups, "Louie Louie", "Surfin' Bird" and wild raves that 1963 closed out on in a "so there!" that'll have your head spinning from here to Coraopolis and back!)---oh yeah, as I was sayin', with a good half-century of hindsight at hand I gotta admit that the early-sixties teenage music scene was a whole lot hotcha-er'n most hippoid world saver types'll want you to believe, and hey, even the likes of Fabian and Bobby Vee, two of the most loathed icons of early-sixties teenybopdom, sound fine and dandy to me a good fifty-plus years down the line. Of course next to the glop being spewed today even my gassiest farts sound pretty melodic, but that just might say more about my sphincter than it does the talents of Justin Timberlake.

But despite what the naysayers, whether they be aging classic rock armchair revolutionaries or amerindie aficionados with all of the depth of a Chuck Eddy review may want you to believe, Fabian was more of a rock 'n roll role model'n the likes of Jim Morrison ever could be! Yeah the guy coulda used a bit of a punk up in his image and even material, but the tracks on HOLD THAT TIGER have proven him to be a whole lot more of a balls out performer than many would care to admit. Yeah he's a little weak in the vocal range, timbre and drive department (at least sometimes), but when he goes all out the man does not hold back. Just one listen to the hit "Turn Me Loose " (last track on side two) shows that he could equal any down home deep south ranter who Fabian had supposedly "disposed" of after "the day the music died" and we all went cardigan sweaters, crew cuts and nasal voices.

The rest ain't bad either even if Fabian's tonsils just weren't suited for him romping through the old timey chestnut "Cuddle Up a Little Closer" which sounds more like a ploy to grab the teenage gals and their curmudgeon dads in one felt swoop! But HOLD THAT TIGER is still ample proof that those cigar chewing managers and teen idol crafters of the day could get it right at least once in awhile, and if you liked the old ploy of mixing crass commercialism with a product that didn't blow turd and in fact uplifted your spirits more'n Penelope Playtex ever could then you just might go for Fabian the same way you did for Sigue Sigue Sputnik!

It's definitely time for a Fabian revival that's for sure, and maybe this reissue can spearhead the movement! DEMAND Fabian on your local "oldies" station! DEMAND that your local big city rock critic speak of him as an artist of worth 'stead of a creepy footnote, or footstep between the Buddy Holly and Beatles era as they're most likely going to do. Best of all call up your local television station and PLEAD with 'em to run HOUND DOG MAN as soon as they can...maybe it's not to late to save the youth of this world from the evils of Lady Caga and who knows, maybe the new knockout game'll be one where the kids get knocked out by Fabian's singing. Wouldn't that be something positive and heartwarming to look forward to???

***

Various Artists-AS TIME DRIVES US AWAY W/O BRAKES CD-r burn (contributed by Bill Shute)

An even more pleasing 'n usual Bill Shute disque, this 'un featuring everything from lounge schmooze to free jazz and even reggae music along with the expected garage band and country and western standbys. The inclusion of a couple of Jamaican rarities from Nora Dean and Dennis Alcapone was definitely a surprise, and considering that I enjoyed both of these low-fidelity rompers despite not being whatcha'd call a reggae aficionado was a surprise in itself! Also appearing are the infamous Titfield Thunderbolt  b-side "In The Can" (Gunter Hampel meets the MC5?) as well as this weirdoid free jazz thingie called "All Scars-Airwaves of Terror" of which I could not find a single dad-blasted thing about onna web! Other entries include two sides of a fairly good self-produced single by some guys calling themselves "the Mechanics" circa 1978, the Blitz Boys '"Eddy's New Shoes" (more "amerindie" that slipped under the wire) and of course "IDENTIFY THE MYSTERY VOICE" which was some English supermarket tie-in contest giveaway platter which urges housewives to do just that and win a whole passel of wondrous goodies. I personally couldn't make out who the mystery limey was myself, though for some reason I keep thinking it just may be John Inman? Well, as Archie Bunker used to say, "the English are a bunch of fags..." 'n they all sound the same no matter how faggy they may be to these Amerigan ears I'll tell ya!

***

Various Artists-IDEA CALDONIA FREE SOUTH JONES CD-r (sent in by Bill Shute)

Yeah, I'm (once again) breaking my own rule not to review more'n one of these Bill Shute comps per post but hey, things are getting mighty starvation rations around here so maybe I'd BETTER lest this blog lose whatever shard of meaninfulness and relevancy it once might have had! This platter's a nice selection of asst. sputum as well. not only with some under-the-counter cover versions of the hits ("Along Came Jones," "Caldonia") but a Wilbert Harrison rarity, a hardcore punk demo tape ("Mental Subject" 1996...which sounds like the kind of blur that  Imants Krumins used to devote his time and energy to whilst under the influence of MAXIMUM ROCK 'N ROLL) and "Ideas of South," a modern composition by Roger Mills which sounds more to me like 1950s avant garde filmscapading with some early free jazz spurts tossed in for good measure!

Speaking of jazz, Bill thankfully thought it worth his while to include nine snippets of that "free jazz" session that noted composer Edgard Varese held with the likes of Art Pepper and Charles Mingus back inna late fifties, and not so surprisingly its pretty good, educational listening even if these recordings are about as uneven as one might expect. These are not what you would call entire songs, but fragments of ideas being fleshed out. Heck, I was still able to sit back and enjoy 'em and they sure left me wanting for more! Never was too familiar with these Varese experiments, but if you'd like to hear a more Euro classical take on the early avant garde of jazz conducted by an actual longhair composer, here's your chance!

***

The Zippers-"He's a Rebel"/"You're So Strange" 45 rpm single (Back Door Man)

A classic finally in the palm of my hands. While the Zippers' 12-inch EP on Rhino is now all but impossible to obtain w/o paying collector scum prices, at least I was able to cop their debut single from '77 on the infamous Back Door Man label (spawn of the infamous fanzine of that same name which launched a thousand more fanzines, or so I would wish) at a fairly decent sum. BACK DOOR MAN (the mag) was 1000% behind pushing this home town aggregation for obvious reasons, most of which included the group's close alliance with the BDM staff (bassist/vocalist D.D. Faye being the twin sister of BDM regular Danielle Faye) and the fact that they were just a hot, driving, good group that deserved some publicity and if Robert Hillburn wasn't quite up to it then I guess the folks at BDM knew just what was their duty, and dutied they did!

"Heavy metal pop" was a term often used to describe the band, and if you're one who spent the seventies following the Cleveland rock scene of the Raspberries and Circus and sorta believed in Greg Shaw's "It's All Coming Back!!!" hype even though you kinda thought he was off by a long shot this might be the one for you. The Crystals cover is done up proper late-seventies El Lay style kinda like you woulda hoped the Runaways woulda done it...with more emphasis on the hard crunch and less on the tits and underage ass. "You're So Strange" is a hot original that reminds me of power pop with a whole gallon of testosterone pumped into it 'stead of that "My Sharona" jiz that had local cubes thinking they had discovered the truth and beauty of new wave. Two powerful tracks that, true, may not have been commercial enough for the tuinol and low-acumen listening audience of the day, but they sure sound great enough to be included in the upper reaches of any seventies top singles list extant next to a whole load of basement singles that flew by us back then but when they did hit boy, did we feel like the Titanic!

I know that some of the ex-staff of BACK DOOR MAN regularly careen this blog so here's a SPECIAL MESSAGE for you all. How about releasing a Zippers album/Cee Dee or whatnot with these tracks and a whole lot more just so's we can get some rock jollies here in the beyond hopeless teens? Yeah, you can do a major history of 'em with a collection of tracks from the group's original incarnation as Atomic Kid all the way up until the end, and maybe interview the bandmembers in question for some long-lost and heretofore unknown facts we all could use. C'mon...if you're gonna lose money might as well do it this way 'stead of dump it in some shaky investment that won't benefit anyone 'cept for some phony prince in Nigeria!

***

Steve Treatment-25 "A" SIDES + YOUR FRIENDS ARE IN THE NEWS 2-CD set (hyped2death)

Whazza word for it..."serendipity"? "Luck"? "Kismet"? Whaddeva the word is, it sure hit me nice 'n hard with the arrival of this Cee-Dee set via Brad Kohler, a loaner which the man actually had burned a copy for me about seven or so years back only I couldn't play it on my boom box nohow. Well, now I get to hear it and y'know what---I think I coulda gone another seven years without hearing it but at least I got to give it a listen and it's kinda...fun.

Treatment was, like a few thou of his countrybrood, one of those late-sixties kiddies who just happened to luckily morph into a late-seventies punk rocker when the time was right. However, unlike many of his compats the guy was a proud member of the Marc Bolan inner circle which is probably why these two platters of unreleased (whether they were meant to be or not) tracks have a rather DIY Tyrannosaurus Rex feel. Talking maybe BEARD OF STARS or "King of the Rumbling Spires" right when Marc was getting back into the electric groove. All these need are background vocals by Flo and Eddie and the connection would really hit home!

Platter "a" is more honed studio strut which was created with public consumption in mind. The other's mostly rough demos that were recorded redline and have that trashoid appeal I like. Cheapo Dylan splurge that'll have you wanting to kick David Bromberg inna balls. Take it in small do-see-doses though, because it might just overpower (or grate on) you.

***

For all of my Amerigan readers this Thursday...I hope you all choke on a wishbone!

MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! LIVE A LITTLE, LOVE A LITTLE starring Elvis Presley (1968)

Back when I was a single digit kid Elvis Presley mooms on tee-vee were like a big  to-do...not exactly for anyone else inna fambly but for me. I always thought they were great what with the wild dancing, big time musical numbers and of course the obligatory fight scenes. Of course by the eighties when these mooms hit the afternoon dialing for dollars circuit I really couldn't care one whit about 'em, but my boob tube watching days were slowly but surely fading away from sight to the point where nowadays you couldn't get me in front of a real live set unless they were showing some of those old series I used to spend beaucoup bux on if only for a VCR containing two to four well-worn syndication prints of AMOS 'N ANDY or M-SQUAD.

LIVE A LITTLE, LOVE A LITTLE fits into the late-sixties Elvis conundrum well enough. Maybe even more so'n expected that I get the feeling that if I had watched this one on the NBC MONDAY NIGHT MOVIE during the early seventies I would have been told to go to bed in no uncertain terms (which had happened on scant occasion such as during the Don Knotts classic THE LOVE GOD and THE IMPOSSIBLE YEARS, the scene where the biker tells David Niven that what he knew about sex could get him arrested!). This 'un's a li'l too spicy even for an Elvis moom. Not as out-there as that scene in CHANGE OF HABIT where that mad Puerto Rican gang member was chewin' away on Mary Tyler Moore's tits but still naughty enough.

Of course it helps that the female lead (Michelle Carey) has all of the sex appeal of my last bowel movement and that the general plot is about one step removed from some LOVE AMERICAN STYLE romp (and really, can any of us take Dick Sargent playing anything even remotely hetero anymore???). In many ways this comes off like a late-sixties movie trying to look "M" but getting a "G" anyway...kinda like the aforementioned CHANGE OF HABIT come to think of it only without the tit snugglin' (and yeah, I still wonder how that 'un got a "G" anyway---the MPAA probably thought it was gonna be another Elvis romp and didn't even bother to watch it!). Naughty yet innocent enough that even the pseudo-PLAYBOY photo shoot scene where Elvis snaps some gal hiding her boobs with her muff (and no, she is not a contortionist) might just pass Aunt Petunia's scrutiny even if you might be beggin' for at least a peek of cleavage.

No real plot, message or moral can be discerned but then again were any needed in these films? Whatever plot there is just acts as a binder to the music numbers, fight scenes and romantic angle, sorta like a cinematic glue which keeps the fun stuff from falling apart.

Besides the irritating Carey, this 'un also has Rudy Vallee as the head of the respectable advertising firm, Don Porter as a health nut loosely patterned after Hugh Hefner, and Sterling Holloway as a milkman who just might be the same character who fixed William Demarest and Joan Blondell's tee-vee on that TWILIGHT ZONE episode now working under a new name in a new profession on the west coast after too much occult karma caught up with him. After getting an eyefulla the dream sequence (which of course gives Elvis another chance to stretch his tonsils) featuring the erstwhile WINNIE THE POOH actor coming off especially creep-like I wouldn't doubt it otherwise.