The Desperate Ones

Allyson Shaw has just published a mindfuckingly-great cyberpunk novel entitled The Desperate Ones. It’s an intensely poetic, darkly fantastic dash for an apocalyptic finish line in a futuristic cityscape that will be recognizable to many of you. Lemma tell ya: it’s a madcrazy ride fr sure. But as this is a music blog, I thought I’d talk a bit about a few of my favorite versions of the Jacques Brel song that cued off her entire project. I am aware of at least a half dozen versions of this song, the best of which remind me of characters and themes throughout the novel. In no particular order I give you:

NINA SIMONE – “The Desperate Ones” (from Nina Simone & Piano!, RCA Records, 1969) Nina was a master at infusing other people’s songs with an urgent passion that spoke not only to individual battles but of much larger cultural and political wars still relevant today. This isn’t the first song most will associate with Nina, and for good reason. There’s a certain unhinged quality at work here many won’t be able to relate to. The pain fueling this sounds more rooted in Nina’s struggle with bipolar disorder, rather than any attempt to comment on wider sociopolitical issues.

But lord knows, even a single howl in the void can be powerful. Such quiet isolation parallels the perpetual state of forgetfulness of Professor Clymenus Bell in Ally’s novel. It’s the kind of burden that must be shouldered privately, but it’s one that crowds both the past and future into a present in a way that’s more than a little unsettling.

GLYN SYTLER & LYDIA LUNCH – “The Desperate Ones” (from The Desperate Ones EP, Atavistic Records, 1997) Glyn and Lydia’s take is unusual as it’s not based on the Brel original, but on the maudlin American version writer Eric Blau and Brill building employee Mort Shuman came up with for their 1968 stage review known as Jacque Brel is Alive and Well and Living In Paris. It’s not unlike how your 80’s teen hardcore band might’ve covered MINOR THREAT’s reimagining of WIRE’s “12XU” – twice removed from source material and hence infused with meaning never intended in the first place. In this case, it’s a beautiful thing they’ve concocted, indeed. Brel’s sadness remains, but the camp, whispered innocence of Alive and Well becomes darkly humorous in the hands of these two doyens of The Hate Generation.

It’s a wonderful example of just how to bring dead culture back to life again, and echoes the way Ally’s character Rabine taps into lost beliefs, vision, and directed will to save her world from the edge of near extinction. Yep it’s only fiction, but dammit if this shouldn’t be the focus of your Great Work too.

MARC ALMOND – “The Desperate Ones” (from the Brel Extras EP, Sin Songs Ltd., 2008) Don’t think I’m not aware: “The Desperate Ones” is one overwrought song, that’s fr sure. But few in recent decades have tackled overwrought as frequently and effectively as Marc. As if to counter all the others who came before, Marc emphasizes not the tragedy but the singular hope shining through the lyrics. He’s recast it from damning to redemptive.

Like everything else Marc has ever done, it could easily go horribly wrong . . . but I’d reckon it’s this version that most closely matches the overall tone of Ally’s The Desperate Ones. It’s a novel that not only contemplates total destruction but actively steps into – and through! – the apocalypse. And if that ain’t a hopeful thing, I don’t know what is.

R.I.P. SKY SAXON

Sky, your Full Spoon of Seedy Wonders will be sorely missed here at PG Recon. We bid you godspeed.

RITCHIE MARSH aka Sky Saxon – “They Say” (originally recorded in 1963, now available on the A Starlight Date With . . . Richard Marsh LP, Norton Records, 2003)

Thanks to Mark Berry for the wonderful portrait

One Man and His Toupee

There’s a man in New Orleans with a voice. It’s a voice that you could get lost in, that’ll get you drunker than you’ve ever been before, that’ll take you away from all the sick, horrible nonsense you gotta endure every single goddamn day of your life. But it’s also a voice that’ll sucker-punch you, shove you into the gutter, and steal your girlfriend away into the night. Laughing all the while.

But don’t worry: that voice has its own issues, ones your girlfriend wasn’t banking on and won’t be able to handle without spiralling down into sick, horrible nonsense herself. So she’ll leave that voice, and come back home. Leaving the voice more alone than ever.

That voice is owned by GLYN STYLER. He’s a man possessed, when he’s not trying to sell you orthopedic mattresses. He’s done what Lou Reed woulda been capable of, if only Lou had never ever left home for money-driven Manhattan; what Scott Walker coulda been, if only Scott’d had found a sense of humor; what Frank Sinatra might’ve accomplished, if like the Tinman, he’d found his heart.

The good news is that EVERYTHING this man has recorded (The Desperate Ones EP featuring Lydia Lunch, the solo Live at the Mermaid Lounge EP, plus a few stray compilation cuts) sparkles out of a musical void not unlike a lost gold cufflink winking up at you from a trash-strewn stormdrain. The bad news? Well, his total output numbers less that a dozen tracks, and a number of those are quite difficult to come by. Need I say: we want more!

For those starting out, your best bets are the EPs, available through Truckstop Records. If you don’t happen to live within stumbling distance from the Circle Bar in New Orleans, you’ll have to settle for seeing him lipsync to his hits in Doris Wishman’s Satan Is A Lady DVD, or check out the short PBS video interview clip included here. But come you must; his hungry voice is waiting.

Q: Glyn Styler would seem to be equally motivated by equal parts beauty and perversity. Who or what gave you the idea that this would be such a winning combination?

GS: Rene Coman and I were hired to tour with an 80’s band called GREEN ON RED – I was the drummer and Rene played bass. During the tedious soundchecking of the drum kit, Rene would sit at the organ and I’d sing absurdly as a distraction. We started writing intentionally tasteless jazz/pop songs. We decided to do a public access TV talk show with an obnoxious singing host (like Mike Douglas or Merv Griffin) and named him Glyn Styler (with sidekick Tommy Baldwin on the piano). This is how GS got started.

Q: Give us an idea of who your influences are/were.

GS: Isn’t it obvious? Lou Reed, David Bowie, Jacques Brel, Frank Sinatra, sex, love, life itself. It’s a tradition. Everything is beautiful and everything is horrible.

Q: Authenticity is clearly an important concept down in New Orleans—I’m thinking here of all the original blues, jazz & zydeco music that folks associate with that part of the world. Yet Glyn Styler seems fly in directly the face of all that. What are your thoughts on this?

The only thing authentic in New Orleans is the crime and stupidity. There’s no good music here. Louis Armstrong would have loved me but I’m not appreciated here. I do understand your comment and agree with you – I am subverting tradition, but these morons don’t get it.

Q: How do audiences react to you?

GS: Most people just love the live show. I light the fuse and there’s an explosion of emotions and everyone basks in the fallout. Everybody understands a nervous breakdown. Only single guys get upset with my show which makes sense.

Q: How did you come to hook up with Ray Davies, and what is your favorite post-Muswell Hillbillies Kinks record?

GS: Ray’s girlfriend saw me perform at the South by Southwest showcase in Austin a few years ago and told Ray about me. He came to see me in New York and we’ve been friends ever since. The music industry doesn’t give a fuck about either one of us. Nobody wanted to fund a Ray Davies produced Glyn Styler album. My favorite post Muswell album would be (definitely) Preservation (Acts 1 & 2)!

Q: What’s going on with your new recordings?

GS: I have three albums worth of demos that I want to record, but can’t find a record deal. I have no manager, no help whatsoever. Ray did all he could. The industry doesn’t want me. They want Justin Timberlake. I refuse to put out my own record. I’ll sell mattresses instead.

Q: How does Rene Coman figure in to Glyn Styler?

GS: Rene is my songwriting partner and bassist.

Q: Some of us heard a great protest song “No Newts” you did for an obscure Mermaid Lounge compilation in the mid-90’s. What motivated you to record that?

GS: I hate what has happened in the last 20 years. Everyone has accepted so many blatant lies and stood silent. The media is so demented. The empire is falling AND IT SHOULD but I’m terrified because I’m so much a part of it…

Q: There’s been talk that you may be headed overseas, this time for good. Are you still making plans to leave this sinking-ship-of-a-nation of ours?

GS: The entire world is saturated with American anti-culture. There’s nowhere to run now. One can only hide.

———-

*originally published in the now-defunct DIE CAST GARDEN webzine in 2004, hence the slightly dated questions. But my love for GLYN still stands.

Tribute Madness

If you wanna talk lowest common denominator, tribute records just gotta be among the easiest to grok. We’ve all heard great cover tunes in our lives – the glorious JIMI HENDRIX reinvention of Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower” immediately comes to mind for me. So we know: the right song in the right hands can absolutely slay. And the suits know this too. Like all those remakes of classic films Hollywood churns out these days, tribute records have readymade audiences and built-in sales potential.

When those early tribute records to VELVET UNDERGROUND/KINKS/BYRDS etc. first began appearing on the UK Imaginary Records label in the later 80’s, I found myself curious to find out what kinda of ingenious updates might lay in such grooves. But within a few years, major labels had run this new tribute concept into the ground. Damn near every artist of note saw their catalogue plundered by whatever half-assed pop/rock act was being pushed at the time. By the end of the millennium, somebody with record sales on par with, say, GUNS ‘N’ ROSES could expect to have a half-dozen tribute CDs to their name. And if you were a BEATLES or a BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN, god help you – the tribute albums by bluegrass and country artists alone could number in the double digits.

Still, reinterpreting someone else’s work has the potential for great and wonderous things, and I’ve stumbled across more than a few really great tribute recs in my time. In no particular order, I give you my favorites:

CLAWHAMMER - Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are NOT Devo! (Sympathy For The Record Industry, 1991) What do you get when one of the original Fullerton Kids of the Black Hole hooks up with a DOWN BY LAW gtrist, a deadhead bassist, and the best Keith Moon impostor LA ever gave the world? That’s right, ya get CLAW HAMMER. For once I wholeheartedly agree with what Jay over at Detailed Twang had to say about em: “When Jon Wahl and Chris Bagarozzi played guitar together, I swear to god at times it was like what everyone said Tom Verlaine & Richard Lloyd were supposed to have sounded like live – unpredictable bits of chaos, pure unbridled energy and extremely amplified sound.” Yep every time I saw these fellas play (a half dozen times at least!) I felt like I was witnessing some beautiful vestige of longgone Hollywood punk rock spirit revealing itself, for the very last time, right there in front of me. But the way CLAW HAMMER rock the fuck outta DEVO’s first and weirdest album, live and unedited in the studio (I’ll give you “Space Junk” now but the whole album demands to be heard) always reminds me of why I dug them Akron spudboys in the first place. I swear: what DEVO sounded like to my 11 year old ears in 1981 is damn near exactly how CLAW HAMMER’s revisitation hit my 21 year old years in 1991. No kidding.

VARIOUS ARTISTS – Our Band Could Be Your Life (Little Brother Records, 1994) No no my SST Records bias is not getting the best of me here. Yes there’s a busload of NeareSST Relatives on this thing (Joe Baiza, Lou Barlow, VIDA, Joe Boon & Tony Platon, etc.) but there’s also all manner of indie detritus that I wouldn’t normally expect to give a thumbs up to. Clearly, THE MINUTEMEN held magical qualities that transcend space, time, and subculture divisions, ones that everyone from balding BÖC spin-offs (THE BRAIN SURGEONS) to 90’s shimmer/fuzz titans (SEAM, HAZEL) could relate to equally deeply, in turn drawing new and inspired musical ideas out of.

Few bands here attempt to match the Boon/Watt/Hurley rhythm combustion step for step – a wise move too, as damn near no one has ever rocked with such authority upon this Earth. What this comp is really about is the experiments, the polemics, the intimacy, and those wonderful little tunes that San Pedro once gave us. And if you were one of those folks who felt THE MINUTEMEN could improve things by ditching all that ornery ‘n’ jagged jazzfunk, then this rec will be a godsend. Dare I admit that in recent years I’ve listened to this comp more than any actual MINUTEMEN album proper? Not unlike THE MINUTEMEN themselves once did with their brilliant covers of CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL’s “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” and STEELY DAN’s “Dr. Wu”, turning the familiar on it’s head – like Tom Watson’s OVERPASS does here with their great version of “Fake Contest” – has helped me rethink damn near all these tracks in new and unexpected ways.

MEDIUM COOL – Imagination (Rough Trade/New Routes, 1991) This is actually nothing but a quiet, unassuming tribute to 50’s counterculture icon Chet Baker, and many of you will find it too straight-up/EZ for comfort. But since the project was led by ex-PANTHER BURN Ron Miller and most other folks involved have trod crooked paths for longer than many of us have been alive (Alex Chilton, Adele Bertei, James White/Chance, and some other ex-CONTORTIONS) this never feels anything less than totally individual and heartfelt. My hero James White effortlessly takes the cake with his sweetly off-key versions of “Let’s Get Lost” and “Imagination”, proving definitively that his unique talents were otherwise wasted during the 90’s. And though I coulda done without Angel Torsen on the mic, it all helps me better understand the true beauty of Chet Baker in relation to the grim backdrop of America in the 1950’s. John Giorno’s liner notes sum it up better than I can: “It was before Allen Ginsberg wrote Howl, before there was a possibility of a way out, other than suicide, and before the possibility of Enlightenment. The only way out was booze and sex, and whatever few drugs were available; and music, medium cool and CHET BAKER.”

VARIOUS ARTISTS – Matter Dominates Spirit?: A Jim Shepard Tribute (Meta Records, 2001) – The passing of long-time Columbus, OH resident Jim Shepard (VERTICAL SLIT, V-3, LAQUER, EGO SUMMIT, etc.) left an ugly, gaping wound on the face of underground rock that I don’t imagine will ever heal properly. But as tributes go, Charles Cicirella really outdid himself here. This double album, hand painted/crafted with nice inserts (including a lengthly essay by ex-THOMAS JEFFERSON SLAVE APARTMENTS leader Ron House) is about as loving as they come. Though it’s mostly close friends who are tackling Jim’s material (Don Howland, Robert Pollard, Mike Rep, former V-3er Nudge Squidfish etc.), there’s also alot of stray songs/noise/poetry by Jim himself, reminding you of just how diverse his commitment to expressive sonic beauty actual was. This is one guy who lived, created, and died at the edges of that anonymous, lower-middle class life tedium most of us are unwillingly exiled to. The spaces he occupied were ever shrinking, sometimes ugly, but always beautifully vibrant and alive. The note from Jim gracing the back of this record admits to it: “3:53 am 9/11. I’ve headed into The Sniper Zone – Hopefully, I’ll get back safe – J-Man”. Yep anyone who has ever tried to navigate that particular purgatory would do well to dig into Jim’s art. And since my turntable’s not working right now, we’ll end this with Jim and his VERTICAL SLIT doing “All“.

Dandelion Wine

While I’ve been kinda ignoring this blog lately, I certainly haven’t been ignoring loud rock and roll as of late, no sireebob. It’s an everpresent reality at Chez PS Recon, and my wife will testify to this. So tonight I’m back to yammer on excitedly about a bunch of music that’s been rocking my world as of late. Don’t dawdle, step to it:

JOHN PEEL’S DANDELION RECORDS DVD (Ozit/Morpheus Records, 2008) As far as unwieldy DVDs go, this one takes the cake. Ostensibly the story of John Peel and Clive Selwood’s great Dandelion Records UK label from ‘68 – ‘72, this is everything producers/directors Chris and Tom Hewitt had stored up. And lemme tell ya, it’s a pantload. With no real rhyme or reason at work to the organisation, at times it’s like trying to get your head around an attic full of old photos, nick-knacks, and personal objects left behind by a crazy dead uncle. There’s no way this can be called a success in the conventional sense – anyone with only a passing interest in the label or mild curiosity about any of the artists included herein would turn this off halfway through the 45 minute(!) intro.

That said . . . there is an endearing, ragtag charm to this missing from most pro DVDs these days, and for those who persist, there’s any number of minor revelations: an intense KEVIN COYNE (RIP) fronting SIREN in one of his last performances; neat footage of the amazing TRACTOR in their homemade studio ca. ‘71; a recent interview with proto-punk heroes STACK WADDY proving them bricklayers are still the kind of earthy, down to earth drunkards you always hoped they’d be, etc. etc. At 6+ hours, I could literally spend weeks with this and still not actually watch it all – maybe I never will. But not unlike a certain crazy uncle of mine this rambling DVD is growing on me, so I’m gonna say if Lost English Hippie is your bag, you could do alot worse than picking this one up. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

ASYLUM – The Earth Is The Insane Asylum Of The Universe (Shadow Kingdom Records, 2008) ‘85 demo by this foundation-building heavy Maryland band, proving from the get go Dale Flood was a impressive musical talent. Later recordings under the UNORTHODOX moniker were better produced, but the glorious homegrown DIY crunch at work here could never again be replicated – the sound/feel puts me in mind of those bitchen BLACK FLAG ‘83 demos floating around out there. Curious to note how wide the influences were on these guys back then. Yes, WINO looms large and there are some slow, crushing ST. VITUS moments, but elsewhere the band dives through proggy riff change-ups worthy of vintage CAPTAIN BEYOND and then surfaces to rage in early CORROSION OF CONFORMITY/DIE KREUZEN fashion – with Dale bringing a deeply felt bluesiness to the proceedings even at his most aggro. God, how I wish more of today’s doom bands displayed such musical breadth/scope.

GOTHIC HUT – Big Holes! (Show Me Records and Tapes, 1989) Always avoided their Posh Boy Records LP from ‘82, as I imagined it might sound horrid like CATHEDRAL OF TEARS or somebody. Whatever their origins, by the late 80’s John Dyer’s GOTHIC HUT weren’t gothic at all but as singular an underground art rock act as you might find in LA at the time. They’d layer on effects-laden, surf-inspired gtrs thick and sometimes impenetrably atop a laidback rhythm section, then cut it with vocals that were alternatingly humorous or cooly detached. There’s also an appealing soporific quality to the proceedings that makes me think everyone involved was ordered to pop a few benzos before walking into the studio. All this somehow lent an accessibility to what otherwise would be called avant chamber rock. Los Angeles Free Music Society alum Rick Potts is a big part of the sound here, and in fact some of these tunes turned up (in slightly different versions?) on that sprawling 10-CD LAFMS box the Cortical Foundation released in the ’90s. But this doesn’t necessarily mean you gotta wear your LE FORTE FOUR ears to appreciate this; this blogger likened them to HUMAN HANDS and BPEOPLE – well worth searching out. John Dyer now lends his talents to X-RAY ACTRESS.

FREE – Live! (Island Records, 1971) Just to prove I don’t spend all my time listening to obscure and out-of-print records, I give you FREE. Simply the best hard rock band England will ever give the world. That’s EVER. Yeah ZEPP & SABBATH were cool as shit and all, but ohhh man nobody but nobody could beat the bros Paul (Rogers and Kossoff) when backed by this strong a rhythm engine. Unlike in spinoffs BAD COMPANY, every member here was a fullbore believer in the cause, living the beat day-in, day-out. Didn’t hurt that at this point no one had yet to succumb to liver burnout. The way these guys’d crawl all over often the quite simple melodies in that hard, slow, and precise way of theirs, with Koss divebombing in with those intensely restrained, soulful solos . . . it’s blues rock made by a whole band of 6 Million Dollar Steve Austins, who’s collective sense of hearing/playing is so finely tuned they’re attempting music to rock even itty-bitty cicadas. We all know ”All Right Now” stuck but this entire record hammers home dozens of subtle points to the body/mind/soul if you let it.

You want in? Start with this bitchen Live disc wherein FREE come at you warts and all, and then work yr way backwards/forwards in their discography to really understand their particular form of genius. Then I promise you, too, will come to understand the beautiful wisdom of slowing the beat down for fucking eveeeeeeea.

Time Takes Three Places At Once

What I was doing

13 YEARS AGO: Freezing my ass off on a stool behind the counter at the Record Recycler (4659 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles, CA – RIP), cleaning a stack of tepid, late-disco LPs by hand, listening to a beat up copy of MICK RONSON’s Slaughter on 10th Avenue LP over the soundsystem. Dweeb nonpersonality cum popstar BECK is also there as a customer, checking out the used rock section.

At some point, BECK tentatively approaches the counter, and asks: ”Um – do you have a bathroom here?” I say: ”yeah – in the back, through that door” and point to the back office door. BECK hesitates for a moment, frozen, zero expression, staring at the counter. “Just, back through that door there?” Me: ”Yep. Just back through that door.”

BECK stands there for what feels like an extremely long while – considering his options, I suppose. But now I’m getting uncomfortable. I don’t precisely know what he more he wants me to do – help him, maybe? So I say: ”you want me to show you where it is?” BECK, visibly relieved, says: ”Yes!” I show him the way, thankfully without further incident. He emerges intact 5 minutes later.

BECK then stares at the counter and asks if the MICK RONSON record I’m listening to is for sale. Shit. ”Well, it’s pretty beat. You could find a nicer copy pretty easily. This is just sort of an in-store play copy. You know, to listen to in the store and stuff.” Which is followed by another one of these interminably long, coldsweat silences. And I, in a vulnerable moment of either Honest Abe free market wheelin’ and dealin’, or awkward tongue-tied cowardice, end up selling him the LP for one lousy dollar. My wife STILL won’t let me live this down.

19 YEARS AGO: Getting off work at the Either/Or Bookstore (124 Pier Ave., Hermosa Beach, CA – RIP), heading to my older brother’s apartment in South Torrance. Upon arrival, I find not only my brother but his galpal tripping ha-a-a-rd on some righteous LSD blotter, blasting METALLICA’s Master of Puppets cassette, watching David Lynch’s Eraserhead on mute. Niiice. As one might guess, the anxiety-provoking visuals are bumming everyone out pretty majorly. This, in turn, bums me out royally – hey he’s my brother, after all.

With a bit of cheerleading, I pull pry em loose of that reality and herd everyone into my pickup. We then drive up to my pad – the smallest studio apartment in the whole of North Redondo. Somewhere en route the vibe brightens up considerably, but unfortunate things like ”dude the police are everywhere” are still voiced. Once safely inside my pad, my guests plant themselves on the shag carpet and enter into a deep state of relaxation whilst paging through ROBERT WILLIAMS’ low brow art books and listening to ENO’s Music For Airports to take the edge off. No further worries are verbalized. The next day my brother phones and says ”that art shit totally saved me from the hairy precipice of insanity.”

25 YEARS AGO: Arriving at a winter junior high school dance at the Margate Intermediate School (2161 Via Olivera, Palos Verdes Estates, CA – RIP) auditorium. I am late, the place is packed, and the cover band is crucifying something I’d identify years later as a truncated version of KID CREOLE & THE COCONUTS’ ”Stool Pigeon”. I keep my head down and tell myself I don’t really want to be there, this is stupid, all the girls at this school are fake, stuck-up preppies, just boring etc. etc. etc.

I go stand against the wall next to L., an awkward fella who always arrived extra-early to these things wearing an unfashionable satin jacket. He never seemed to dance much. After a stomach- knotting length of time, the cover band’s singer lets rip his last ”Ack! Ack! Ack! Ack!”, and the song mercifully ends. Dancers slow and begin to return to their chosen wall-space.

At this point S. slowly approaches me, smiling in her friendly though slightly conspiratorial way. Out of pure fear-of-girls (particularly preppy ones like S.) I avoid eye contact at first. But then, realizing it’s not so hard, I return her smile. The band lurches into their manic and hurried take on THE ROMANTICS ”What I Like About You” and S. pops the question: ”wanna dance?” I nod and say yes yes yes. We get out there and dance the Belinda Carlisle wildly together, I have a ball and my whole freakin’ world loosens up one incredibly important notch. After the song ends, S. confides: ”I like dancing with you – you don’t make me look like an idiot.” It makes my entire week.

*originally posted on a now defunct LiveJournal

Wolfcraft

No reason to blog about the great WITCHCRAFT, GRAVEYARD & WOLF PEOPLE gig we saw last night in London, when my wife has kindly done it for me. Only thing I’d add is WITCHCRAFT’s Magnus Pelander really is the missing link between Scott ‘Wino’ Wienrich and Nick ‘Bevis Frond’ Salomon – the highest kudos I can offer. And WOLF PEOPLE? Them unassuming guys had the jaws of every stringy longhair Swede (that be you, GRAVEYARD) on the goddamn floor, with good reason too. WP are gonna be huge, I tell ya.

Progressive Kinda Rhymes With Caribbean

Apologies for the lack of action round the Pig State lately – been on vacation the past couple weeks, adrift in warm Caribbean breezes of the US Virgin Islands. No indigenous rock and roll was heard during my travels, but at least two separate versions of Buster Poindexter’s manic “Hot, Hot, Hot” were noted – the first rendered on cheap solo gtr & rhythm track by a Hound Dog Taylor-looking gentleman outside the St. John airport, the second on steel drum in a restaurant we dined in too frequently (belch).

When not snorkeling, drinking, burning, or sleeping, I could invariably be found listening to progressive rock on my I-Pod – and, inexplicably, only that prog that grew outta the neck of the woods I happened to grow up in. Now this was a somewhat new development in my musical maturation – even as an adult, prog hasn’t been something I’m always enamored by – and it sure irked the hell outta my wife. But as I’ve blogged about the music of the South Bay many, many times here before, I suppose it was inevitable that I’d eventually write about prog sounds from my old stomping grounds too. So here goes:

1. AMBROSIA – “Time Waits For No One” (Ambrosia, 20th Century Fox Records, 1975) – There was this short lived Redondo Beach record store for a couple years in the 80’s called Round Sounds that seemingly made it their sole mission to revive classic 70’s prog rock. ELP gatefold albums were displayed with pride on the walls; GENTLE GIANT listening parties were arranged but sparsely attended; and yep the owner sported exactly the frizzy mullet and soccer jersey you might imagine he did. Here, all this amazing post punk/hardcore underground rock was unfolding all around us, and this dude’s trying to sell me my first ALAN PARSONS PROJECT record.

But I do not doubt that this shop owner held AMBROSIA dear to his heart. Hell, I’m starting to myself. All these AMBROSIA fellas grew up in the South Bay, they claimed San Pedro as their home years before that town became most-closely associated with THE MINUTEMEN, and they concocted at least one great if totally commercial LP in 1975 that you should check out before you die. Yes they sound PABLO CRUISE/DOOBIE BROTHERS slick (how could you not if you were a hotshit SoCal career musician in the mid 70’s?), but this also sounds like 4 dudes still totally excited to be allowed to leap through ambitious, progressive rock hoops for the rest of us to marvel at. The story goes these guys were diehard CROSBY, STILLS, NASH, AND YOUNG fans, until they had a spiritual moment at a KING CRIMSON gig on the Sunset Strip and went for it. In turns West Coast breezy, fusionoid complex, and dorkily escapist – at one point they’re playing beneath a hammy reading of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky – this was the result, and a thing of beauty it is. You punkers will forever deride em but that’s just cause mullets and soccer jerseys are an easy target. The harder thing to do is find the balls to give this a listen. AMBROSIA might just surprise you like they did me.

2. CHAKRA – “Keys to the Kingdom” (Chakra, 1979) – I don’t kid myself: this ain’t “somewhere in between bands like RUSH, YES, ZAZU, and GENTLE GIANT” as every other prog website says about this thing. No, this will never be anything but a muted, local prog rock relic from a smelly bedroom in Torrance, ca. ‘79. Earnest in it’s love of sprightly keyboard figures and overly-arranged song structure, these guys at least display a DIY enthusiasm missing from pros like AMBROSIA. It might’ve even accidentally got CHAKRA opening slots for THE LAST at their early, more out-of-the-way suburban gigs . . . OK I too could’ve done without the Christian lyrics, but hey if I ditched all the records in my cabinet by avowed Xian types I’d be staring at one jaundiced collection, that’s fr sure. My wife laughs at me when I play it, and I rarely play it all the way through. But dammit I’m still happy that it’s 2009 and I got a CHAKRA record to spin if I wanna get tap my foot to regular joes playing in odd time meters. Me I can follow CHAKRA’s kinda convoluted, suburban musical logic, even when I’m blushing.

3. 5UU’S – “Roan” (Hunger’s Teeth, ReR Megacorp, 1994) – This is actually well past their South Bay phase, after they’d become world explorers/ex-pats not unlike Yours Truly. 5UU drummer & leader Dave Kerman hates the prog label, but how can a band that started as a KING CRIMSON cover band ever ditch that tag completely? While these guys became known as the American wing of HENRY COW’s Rock In Opposition (RIO) movement, I prefer to remember them as The Band That Confused The Heck Outta Me The Most whenever Splat Winger would spin em on KXLU’s Brain Cookies radio show – this was frequently. Their musicality was always scary, lemme tell ya – in ambition, scope, and execution. Upon reflection stinky RIO socks are jammed in lotsa hidden corners of their sound, particularly in their ZAPPAesque integration of Schoenberg’s 12-Tone Technique in composition. But it’s the sheer intensity and determined angst of the sound/conviction they exhibit that really pins me to the wall. Why didn’t Greg and Chuck ever get these guys to record something for SST Records back when they were still trapped in the South Bay? They seemed a natural to Blast a few choice Concepts back in mid-80’s Torrance.

The 60’s Will Never Die

It isn’t often that I go out for self-consciously retro, 60’s pop revival sounds. Being born in 1970 meant that anything authentically 60’s that was still around during my childhood had to be understood through the depressively distorting, earth-toned lens that was the 70’s. And by the 80’s? Well boomer revisionist historians (author Marilyn Ferguson, director Oliver Stone, ex-DOOR Ray fucking Manzarek) made sure we made sense of the Summer of Love through their self-congratulatory, narcissistic eyes. All this conspired to get me to ignore most of what sprung from the retro Paisley Underground & Cavern Club scenes in SoCal during my younger years. Me, I needed music much louder harder faster just to keep some kinda sanity amidst the sucker punch of harsh 80’s teendoom.

That’s why I’m still surprised when some willfully throwback, Beatle-y tune strikes me as great shakes. It ain’t the norm, ya know? And it doesn’t happen too often. But when it does, I dance and sing along as loud as I can, every time. Here’s one from each of the past 4 decades that still hasn’t left me alone:

1. THE LEOPARDS – “I Wonder If I’ll Ever See You Again” (from Kansas City Slickers, Moon Records, 1977) If you are a Ray Davies fanatic, chances are this band needs no introduction. THE LEOPARDS were the best lo-fi reproduction of Pye Records-era KINKS ever committed to tape. That they waxed it on a private label outta Kansas City in the just-pre punk years was the icing on the cake, and meant they’re now remembered as part of the foundation of what eventually became known as Power Pop. As great as this is, I reckon their 80’s LA phase (typified by their cult hit, “Psychedelic Boy“) to be even better. But this kinda jaunty, Anglophile pop was nearly unprecedented back in the Midwest during PETER FRAMPTON’s heyday. Lost In The Grooves put out a needle-drop of this on CD that was available for all of 2 seconds a few years back, but otherwise this gem has languished rarely-heard for far too long, tucked away on dusty collector scum record shelves. Reissue it, and fast.

2. MAD MONSTER PARTY – “Can’t Stop Loving You” ( Pink-A-Boo Records, 1988) – When Paula Pandora went unabashedly cockrock, ex-bandmate Gwynne kept true to her 60’s dayglo roots first with her own version of THE PANDORAS (aka THE GWYNNDORAS), and then with further hot allgirl action in MAD MONSTER PARTY. They may have been a bit faltering and very much of a specific time/place, but the songs – penned by John Kling, later of Michael Quercio’s JUPITER AFFECT – were catchy, proud, and heartsleeve ernest. Plus they managed to avoid that cutesy, little-girl-lost thing that Susanna Hoffs beat to death with THE BANGLES. Shit this must’ve had Rodney B melting in his KROQ mic booth. MAD MONSTER PARTY even recorded an endearing cover of an obscure but totally brilliant LAST song, “Someday I’ll Have You“, sealing the deal for me. Everything you ever wanted to hear/see about these chicks and all their galpals is already documented over here.

3. LOVE – “Girl On Fire” (Distortions Records, 1994) If you never heard this, you missed out on the single very best 90’s recorded comeback by a bonafide 60’s acid casualty. Hell, this ain’t really retro at all; it’s the sound of someone ON FIRE again like he hadn’t been for a couple decades. Dig that “7 & 7 Is” riff quote in the bridge – Arthur’s retooled his classic sound for an entirely new generation. The BABY LEMONADE backing guys are ripping it up, and Arthur’s in total command here. Falling James called him “The Anti-Brian Wilson”; surely, the LOVE man lives up to that rep here. Would that he’d put out an entire album of new material like this before he passed; it woulda been hot I tell ya.

4. THE MAYDAYS – “You Don’t Have To Wait” (Flare Records, 2002) – Why is it that folks don’t revive mid 60’s true blue-eyed soul as often as our forefathers wallowed in it? I’m guessing that the white-guy imitates black-guy thing just doesn’t have the same potency it once did . . . or maybe it’s because most retro acts don’t have a frontman as talented as MAYDAY Pat Johnson. This band was a short lived Bay-area supergroup of sorts, featuring fellas who’d done time with everyone from THE CRAWDADDYS to Penelope Houston. This was their lone recorded moment. But the flip (”The Very Last Time”) is killer too, and can be heard on Pat’s MySpace – again, I mourn the full-length that never got recorded. Pat really knew how to write and sing a great song, and his band most definitely understood the subtler aspects of gloriously neo-Edwardian clad, rockin’ pop.

Comp Time

Been off work for a bit, sick as a dog – only just now pulling out of it. As a way of testing how together I’m actually feeling, I wrote reviews of a few new-ish compilation CDs that I’ve been digging on lately. I’m happy to see they all came out relatively coherent, but if you feel any of em still smack of fever dream, do let me know and I’ll rethink my plan to return to work tomorrow.

1. VARIOUS ARTISTS – Going Places: The August Darnell Years 1976 – 1983 (Strut Records, 2008) – Yes I realize this blog may paint me as some sort of hairy heavyweight doom rocker type. But really I’m nothing but an ass shakin’ pansy who loves disco and glittering lights as much as I do WINO’s new solo CD. Recently blogged about this man’s moustache, but dammit if his music ain’t worth some attention too. There was a time a decade or so ago when I was searching hi/lo for every August Darnell (aka KID CREOLE) project I could find – boy, were there alot of em. This one documents his early days with glistening examples from all his greatest achievements: DR. BUZZARD’S ORIGINAL SAVANNAH BAND, GICHY DAN’S BEACHWOOD NO. 9 (where’s that long promised reissue?), DON ARMANDO’S SECOND AVE. RHUMBA BAND, THE AURAL EXCITERS, CRISTINA, and of course KID CREOLE & THE COCONUTS. Along the way James Chance, Pat Place, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, and Walter Steding all lob in choice bits of skronky noise, Sue Who and Taana Gardner out-Brooklyn Rosie Perez in the whiny sass department, and Cory Daye and Lourdes Cotto earn my votes as Ruling Disco Diva Queens forevermore. What can never be denied was the KID’s talent for penning great lyrics that were goofily silly as often as they were pointedly biting. And only Arthur Russell ever thought to confuse the dance by inserting so many loopy sonic non sequiturs into the basic 4-4 disco formula. If this don’t make you wanna hustle, I don’t know what will.

2. VARIOUS ARTISTS – Thank You Friends: The Ardent Records Story (Ace Records, 2008) – Only ever been to Memphis once, and all I really remember was checking out Beale Street with this attractive Spanish gal from the youth hostel who was unavailable since she was “getting over Cristóbal”. Baaah. But I do remember listening to ALEX CHILTON’s Lost Decade cassette – which corralled stray cuts by Alex with forgotten tracks by outsider Memphians Alex had produced in the 70’s – over and over on my shitty car stereo down highways/byways all over the city and beyond in the beautiful Tennessee countryside. That comp made a great case for the true genius of Alex laying well outside the confines of his more renowned contribution to BIG STAR. It remains for me the best way to get acquainted to this gentleman’s singular talent and the unique social landscape that nourished it.

But along comes this Thank You Friends: The Ardent Records Story compilation that expands exponentially on the original Lost Decade concept, busting beyond Alex to sample much of what came out of Memphis’ Ardent Studios dating back to 1960. What’s trippy is how a studio sitting smack dab in this Southern cradle of country, rock’n'roll, and soul produced so much English sounding pop/rock throughout it’s heyday. At times it’s positively uncanny: THE AVENGERS sound like an early Joe Meek production, SID SELVIDGE like a haunting PROCOL HARUM outtake, and more than one of these bands like something Keith Relf coulda fronted and pretended were THE YARDBIRDS. The second disc is made up of lots of BIG STAR alt versions that don’t really sound too alt to me; anybody else wanna admit to thinking BS are just a tad overrated? Me I’m more interested in odd, peripheral acts like ROCK CITY, THE HOT DOGS, and Tulsa’s amazing CARGOE, who even Jody Stephens conceded could best BIG STAR live. But taken in total this smashes all preconceived notions about Memphis and its musical legacy, which I guess means somebody put this set together right.

3. VARIOUS ARTISTS – Bold Beginnings: An Incomplete Collection of Louisville Punk 1978 – 1983 (Noise Pollution, 2007) And here I thought the Louisville underground began and ended with Tara Key’s ANTIETAM . . . this collection proves just how wrong I was. Starting with the dissonant, minor key howls/wails of NO FUN, you get to pay witness to everybody from THE ENDTABLES (sizable midwestern chunkstyle riffs fronted by a neat David Thomas clone) to the BABYLON DANCE BAND (totally cool, post-punk WIRE bass churn) to THE MONSTERS (FLIPPEResque 1/2 speed noise nod) and on to MALIGNANT GROWTH (fullblown MINOR THREAT-aware HC punk). The CRIME-like BLINDER gets points for Best Song Title (”This Isn’t My Mother’s Car”), YOUR FOOD and awesome named SKULL OF GLEE allow arty dudes to herk and jerk with the best of em, and THE DICKBRAINS take limey worship to new, uncharted Appalachian heights. Only STRICT-9 are a bit forgettable but HEY petty quibbles don’t matter, since soooo much of this is top rank stuff. You only wish your shitty city had this much crazy punker madness still to exhume.