The Golden Ticket

New issue of Less Lee Moore and Megashaun’s Popshifter fanzine is up and standing tall. This particular ish includes my contribution to the multifarious

Sparks Spectacular: 21 Miracles of the Modern Age, a gaggle of reviews covering the recent string of SPARKS concerts here in London. Said gigs saw the Mael bros. deftly recreating every goddamn one of their uniquely beautiful LPs, one album at a time. Me, I could only afford to see one of these shows, but oh! What a Big Beat it turned out to be.

Thanks to The Untrained Eye for the great pic of Russell

Northeast Los Angeles punk

THE BRAT – “High School”
Just the greatest 53 seconds of LA punk I’ve stumbled across on YouTube lately. I mean it’s archetypal: the sun beating down on the spanish tile roofing, Lincoln Park spreading out behind, her purple dress, and that slashing, killing riff. I admit I bought their Attitudes 10″ record as a kid only cause it came endorsed by Exene Cervenka – she did some of the cover lettering. But hey at least I bought the damn thing, and proceeded to spin this song to utter pieces. “Didn’t learn a goddamn thing/ didn’t buy a fucking ring…” – wish I could view the current Vexing: Female Voices From East LA Punk show at the Claremont Museum of Art – no doubt I’d be floored.

SF slow-punk

Never let it be said that, from it’s very inception, punk wasn’t up to providing the world with a unique update on the slow and the heavy. Sure THE STOOGES could riproar through “I Got A Right”, but I still get way more excited hearing them crawl through the broken glass of “Open Up and Bleed”. And while PERE UBU did once squeal around the “Non-Alignment Pact” raceway, they reached their early pinnacle in the FREE-esque trudge of “Final Solution”. Yeah it was punk’s slower numbers that always cut the deepest, dug the furthest, and hit the hardest.

Hands down, San Francisco was the seismic epicenter of slow-punk in late 70’s/early 80’s America. Other towns had their fair share of killer slow-punk moments too, but few places had this many great bands who could slow it down, so fucking well. If I ever gotta choose (and I sure hope I don’t) between the fascistic 1-2-3-4 countoff of the RAMONES or the ominous, narcoleptic surge of THE SLEEPERS, well, it’s California here I come. Consider the evidence:

THE MUTANTS – Tribute to Russ Meyer

These guys/gals have been consigned to the lost new wave bin for far too long, probably due to the B-52-ish, pop-oriented ambitions displayed on their Fun Terminal LP from 1982. But early on, they were as real, dark, and rockin’ as anything else on the SF scene – check out their first EP from 1978, compiled on their definitive White Noise Records CD. This is another of those early, heavy grinding moments. A great & tortured singer Fritz Fox was.

UXA – Death From Above

Everyone I’ve talked to agrees that the early UXA, before relocating to LA, was by far their strongest line up. Michael Kowalski is in the band here, right? I had their later Posh Boy record at some point a couple decades ago, and I don’t remember it leaving much of an impression on me. But this one burrrrrns, and stays slow past the 3-minute mark. Singer De De Troit comes off like Alice Bag at her meanest & fiercest – fellas, do give her wide berth. I used to buy the occasional beat-up used CD off De De at our store in Hollywood in the mid-90’s – no she wasn’t looking very healthy by then, but she was always nice and had intense presence. She never failed to make my day.

NEGATIVE TREND – Black & Red

Not sure what the heck’s going on in this video, but the song’s self-hatred is forever burned on my emotional palette. “I have always liked/ the color red/ because it looks so good on my arm . . .” Thank eternal fanboy Henry Rollins for recently reissuing this one. Just the heaviest punk churn imaginable.

SLEEPERS – Sister Little

The only band who could rival THE GERMS in my personal cosmology of West Coast Kings of Thee Punk Rock Beyond. Their The Less An Object comp. on Tim Kerr Records is a crucial part of any record collection (hot tip: the vinyl version has two alternate versions not found on the CD, so serious fans need both!) Singer Ricky Williams was such an incredibly talented, beautiful singer capable of penning lyrics so wrong he was somehow accidentally right every goddamn time. Unlike other early SLEEPERS classics (such as the gorgeous “Linda”) this one ain’t exactly slow, but it’s what I could find, and I don’t find myself swooning any less.

TOILING MIDGETS – Again

There is nothing about the TOILING MIDGETS I don’t love – the multi-dimensional (i.e. space AND time) gtr attack, the panoramic musical structures, the deep rhythmic throb, the long-gone lyrics, the desperate narcotic croon. I once published a much longer, more tangled appreciation + chopped up interviews with various MIDGETS on the web – should really repost that here sometime. Who knows: if these guys could’ve mustered the courage to turn around on stage, maybe more people’d remember the faces of such formidable musical grandeur today.

FLIPPER – Sacrifice

Pretty much defined the intoxicated end of SF punk in the 80’s – without them, there would be no FANG, no MELVINS, no NIRVANA, and even no MOBY fr christs sake. And although Craig Gray of THE TOILING MIDGETS once told me they kinda embarrassed him, I reckon FLIPPER would take his embarrassment as a badge of honour. I love that Bruce Loose cropped his hair short in this video like he was a suburban HC skater or something – ha! It was akin to that SoCal hippy Chuck Dukowski getting a mohawk, only ironic.

Blasting Minds

So you wanna talk about redefining rock LPs of the 1980’s? Ya just gotta include THE BLASTING CONCEPT VOLUME II in there, chief. Anyone who hoped those “difficult” mid-period BLACK FLAG and SACCHARINE TRUST records were just a fluke couldn’t deny that, by 1985, SST Records had undergone a complete and total aesthetic overhaul. The HC punk had become heavy, found hippie, turned jazzy, gone fishin’ and then . . . well, kids everywhere were shaking their heads in utter disbelief. This just wasn’t what they wanted their oh-so precious punk rock to sound like. Ever.

THE BLASTING CONCEPT VOLUME II encapsulated those revelatory changes, and suggested a dozen more. It was a bold, powerful, collective artistic statement that directly challenged unexamined musical prejudices throughout punk & underground scenes at the time. While the first BLASTING compilation merely corralled previously released material on a handy 12″, most of this stuff never turned up anywhere else, making it primary SST documentation. Yes it’s got the most boring cover in SST’s early annals; but do check out the original, unused Pettibon artwork in the backpages of Joe Carducci’s Rock & the Pop Narcotic – a very different graphic representation to ponder when cracking an ear to this aural wonder. Blow by blow, it’s

SAINT VITUS: “Look Behind You” – One of my fave early VITUS cuts. Carducci makes mention of a creeping paranoia floating around SST back then, and VITUS pins it here with a singularly leaden, dull blade. Ouch. This version beats the slightly later, Wino-led version what with more inspired vocals by Scott Reagers and superior drumming from Armando.

DC3: “Theme From an Imaginary Western” – Dez the crooner, won’t you take the mic? Oh my god, how I love this. It’s hard, heavy, and poignant – brings tears to my eyes. And these eyes don’t cry easily.

SWA: “Mystery Girl” – Not my fave SWA song, as it’s got one of them distended, disjointed riffs that clutter up their early LPs. But Merrill sounds E. Bloomin’ hot and raring to go-go-go, like he’s about to whip his dick out in front of whatever loser audience ain’t gonna be able to handle SWA this week. You might, but me? I don’t ever fast-forward past this one.

BLACK FLAG: “I Can See You” – One of the more off-kilter melodies Ginn came up with in FLAG, and when he solos I start feeling a bit woozy. But lyrically it fits the rec perfectly, as if Ginn’s responding to the VITUS track above. Who says he didn’t grow eyes in the back of his head?

GONE: “Watch the ‘Tractor” – One of GONE’s defining moments: pure metallic punk/prog mayhem bliss. A buddy of mine always maintained GONE was responsible for the very best in-store performance ever in the greater Washington DC area, which is totally believable if they sounded anything like this.

WÜRM: “Death Ride” – I am one yahoo who actually digs Simon Smallwood’s vocals and the BLUE CHEER bronco these guys saddled on their Feast LP. WÜRM were far too early in the scheme of Heavy Revival to be considered anything more than a joke. But like VOX POP, they helped reintroduce OTT metal to punkers in LA, back when you were still making excuses for owning Haysi Fantayzee records.

OVERKILL: “Over the Edge” – OVERKILL put out the best SST LP most of you never bothered with, and this singularly-great MÖTÖRHEAD bomb is an outtake from that crucial rec. Merrill’s vocals are buried which makes him sound even more feral, and drummer Kurt Markham positively murders. I can’t not bang my head hard when this one comes on.

SACCHARINE TRUST: “Emotions and Anatomy” – A short outtake from their Worldbroken live record, so it’s got Mike Watt playing bass. At the time, this kinda deep searching, exploratory sound got me thinking there were absolutely no more limits to just how far out underground rock could be taken. You younger free-rock types oughta all come pay your respects.

PAINTED WILLIE: “The Big Time” – Not a bad bit of REDD KROSS-like sneer from guys who struggled to find their voice after the brilliance of their initial Ragged Army 7″ 45. Most of their records suffer from shitty production, but as I always empathized with punkers who tried rocking it hard and heavy, no doubt I’d have paid to see em do it live if I could.

ANGST: “Just Me” – Depressive folk rock that nicely illustrates the strengths of this Bay-area band. Again I’ll maintain that this is entirely in keeping with the vibe (if not the sound) of primo SLEEPERS/NEGATIVE TREND material.

MEAT PUPPETS: “I Just Wanna Make Love to You” – I prefer the PUPS covers of “Child of the Moon” and “No Quarter” but they’re all zigzagging stripes off the very same three-legged zebra. I always laugh when Curt maintains she don’t love you anymore/ she likes my love better.

MINUTEMEN: “Ain’t Talkin’ About Love” – Here you probably figured Merrill Ward or Henry Rollins would be the first to come out of the closet with a love for VAN HALEN. Nope: it was Boon who was the real Diamond Dave aficionado all along. I love that, in true MINUTEMEN fashion, they’ve parred this back to only the 3rd verse and the hey hey heys.

HÜSKER DÜ: “Erase Today” – a great New Day Rising-era outtake. This doesn’t actually sound like much else here, but that just illustrates how distinctive these guys’ sound actually was. I’m not a huge HD fan, but this is a classic midwestern barnburner anyway you wanna cut it.

OCTOBER FACTION: “I Was Grotesque” – Lifted from the their less-than successful second LP, wherein Dukowski, Ginn, Baiza, Stevenson et al tried to FACTIONalize within the unnatural confines of the studio. They couldn’t pull it off and I admit it: I sometimes skip past this one. But I’ll always admire their impulse to take the music one step beyond.

TOM TROCCOLI’S DOG: “Todo Para Mi” – A far from ideal cut to end things on, given the quality of all that came before. Me I woulda chose Tom’s cover of ANDY & THE RATTLESNAKES “Patience” which ended his own DOG LP from this same year. But really, what better man to bring down these BLASTING curtains than the hippiest, deadheadiest SST roadie of them all? Anybody who couldn’t deal would’ve given up loooong before this track; those who stayed to appreciate it no doubt went on to form all my favorite bands over the next couple decades.

——–

Paging Greg Ginn: re-release this lost treasure! It’s one that’ll blow minds, forevermore.

A Lexicon of Desert Devils

Finally got my hands on these two new instrumental projects led by the great CA desert gtrist Gary Arce, released earlier this summer by Dave Lang downunder at Lexicon Devil. Picked em up nearby, too; hey maybe this barrier-free, EU freetrade agreement ain’t nearly as bad as my BNP-supporting neighbours make it out to be! I’m still digging into this warm, rich musical mulch, but I’ll get to typing regardless:

TEN EAST – The Robot’s Guide to Freedom (Lexicon Devil, 2008) The cover artwork gets me thinking back on Gary Jacobelly’s urban primitive artwork that adorned SACCHARINE TRUST’s landmark We Became Snakes LP. And although this rec doesn’t seek to scale those hallowed jazz-rock heights, Robot’s Guide is a similarly expansive, exploratory assertion of just what rock can mean in the here-and-now. While their first (Extraterrestrial Highway) was a late-night, triple-axle studio jam of seismic proportions, this one nudges the formable TEN EAST abilities toward more predetermined, structured ideas. Which means here the jamming is given equal consideration to proggy chord progressions. I hear some of the heavy, spiritual space Wino tried to find with his SPIRIT CARAVAN, the hard blues foundation underpinning FATSO JETSON, even some of the weirdo changes Gary’s earlier SORT OF QUARTET specialized in. And Lexicon Dave is right: “Hogbreath” is the very best Slip It In-outtake BLACK FLAG never wrote (I’m sure occasional TEN EAST organist/gtrist Greg Ginn would agree). This is some forward-reaching, soul-seaching, earth-moving group creation. It’s a momumental artistic wallop my synapses won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

DARK TOOTH ENCOUNTER – Soft Monsters (Lexicon Devil, 2008) Guitarist Gary Arce took drummer Bill Stinson aside and, with a choice few others, created this quieter cousin to the above recording. Though quiet is a relative term when you’re talking about guys who dig feedback and distortion as much as these guys do; I suppose contemplative would be a more apt description. They aren’t going for broke, rather letting notes and percussion ring, linger, and fade in a gorgeous but deeply felt way that stays with you even after it’s over. The playing has an easy, human touch to it that envelopes you whole, keeping you warm and helping you cope just a little better with all the nastiness running rampant out there. I’d almost guess this was some bitchen TOILING MIDGETS spinoff I somehow missed out on back in ‘91, if I didn’t already know this has it’s roots in the equally great YAWNING MAN. Hey even us rocker types need to crank it down a notch or two late at night; I’m stoked that DARK TOOTH has given me the perfect soundtrack for such times.

———-

What I’m getting at dude, is this: you’re gonna want both of these. Buy the pair and I guarantee all your ears will be over the moon for the remainder of the summer.

The World’s Most Gruesome Monster

One of the more ear&eye popping transformations I’ve been keeping tabs on over the past couple decades is the evolution of Tim Hensley – one-time purveyor of some of the most peculiar, unsettling pop music written in the ’80s/’90s under the guise of VICTOR BANANA – into an equally peculiar, no less unsettling modern-day comic artist. It’s been a heady trip, indeed.

Now I’m no comic buff, but I have been listening to music for a few good years now. And I can say that the first VICTOR BANANA Split LP came outta faaar left field, even within the wideopen terrain that was the late 80’s LA underground. Sonically speaking, it’s probably Tim’s most accessible & light-hearted collection; nary a rockin’ bone in sight on the thing. This is acoustic chamberpop played on gtr, viola, accordion, upright bass and drums, swinging through a hodgepodge of ambitiously arranged, tinpan alley/’60s jazzpop/eurofolk inspired melodies. Dan Clowes did the cover art – the first of many he’d draw for Tim’s projects – and LA’s KXLU radio DJ Splatwinger put it out on his own San Pedro based Splat-Co. label (who, for the record, also curated the Taste Test #1 Brain Cookies Live From KXLU compilation on New Alliance Records).

But oooh man, just what kinda fever dream brought the lyrics on?!? Tim’s crooning about “Planet Xylak” and “Dr. Goodbeard” like we’d been there and met him before, while words like vitrified and theanthropism form the basis for etymological explorations that’ll have the less-erudite among you reaching for your dictionaries left and right. Cursory listeners might accuse this as being nothing more than a witty collection of novelty songs – yes, Dr. Demento did spin this a bit back then – but there’s a dark shadow that follows nearly every clever turn of phrase/key change included herein. These are words & melodies wrenched from creepy Jungian archetypes few of us wanna ever look at too long. Me, I’m awfully glad Tim decided to stare.

Come the early 90’s, VICTOR BANANA issued his/their most infamous moment: the 10-song 10″/CD soundtrack to Daniel Clowes’ Like a Velvet Glove Cast in Iron graphic novel. Like Clowes’ book, Tim’s song cycle is a tightly compact, dizzying display of literate observations punctuated by cracked humor leaping straight into an abyss of black-hole dislocation. By this point, the band had swelled to include organ, mandolin, vibraphone and background vocals, which gave Tim the tools to unleash his idiosyncratic esthetic sense over an ever-widening musical terrain. From the slow “Velvet Glove” striptease opener through the hypnotic “House of Forever” and on to godforsaken, outlier destinations like “Chief Wampum’s Trading Post” there’s a wretching, sulphuric stench underpinning everything here, like this project was conceived in a parkside public restroom. And when Tim jauntily croons you’re in the middle of nowhere, you fuck! during “Gooseneck Hollow”, I can almost imagine I’m hearing an EZ-listening version of THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. In terms of brainshuffling wordplay, this reaches true Joycean heights – in many ways, eclipsing the text of Clowes’ graphic novel it was meant to support. But: it does not feel healthy in the head. No, not at all.

There were other Tim H. sightings around this time: as VIC HAZELNUT leading an orchestra behind April March on her very 1st EP, Voodoo Doll, as Tim himself playing/writing on comedian Rube Ruben’s Shmendrick EP. But soon after, some of this darkness I have made reference to above must’ve caught up with him, as Tim apparently had a mental breakdown.

In the mid-90’s Tim reemerged, phoenix-like, under the new NEIL SMYTHE moniker with a CD called Refrains. It’s the last we heard of Tim, and the only recording of his still available – yet again, Dan Clowes drew all the why-does-this-wig-me-out artwork. By this point Tim’s musical sense had become so convoluted that not only the lyrics, but the melodies themselves were taking on serious queasy-making abilities. Aahhh, the power of good music.

Now I’ll warn you now: my wife finds all of Tim’s projects, musical or otherwise, creepy in large doses. And I admit there is something not-so-subtly disturbing about all of his work, regardless of subject matter or emotional tone. And that’s the attention to fine, minute detail – whether it’s the obsessive complusive arrangements, the uncanny phrasing, or self-depreciating (hating?) tone of so much of it. I’d even go so far as to say the end result feels eerily like untreated psychosis – if it all wasn’t intentional, well crafted, quite funny and at times even beautiful. But Tim clearly wants his art to make you shift uncomfortably in your seat – as if to quietly remind you: nothing is alright in this world. Not too many artists out there have done this so effectively using both music and graphic art, for this goddamn long.

And what of his current incarnation as a comic artist, you ask? I’m gonna let that speak for itself, until I develop an equally hyperbolic, graphic art vocabulary to gush appropriately.

Gawk at footage of VICTOR BANANA live on public access TV, ca. 1989

Guffaw at Tim’s standout inclusion in the booklet accompanying the Weird Tales of the Ramones box CD set

Gasp at Tim’s uncanny ability to illuminate other people’s seemingly benign comic panels in oddly uncomfortable ways

Or: follow the lateral thinking of Tim (and few choice others) on their delicately insightful comic blog, Blogflume. For a reeeal trip, explore the nearly 50 posts Tim uploaded back on 7 March 2008 – nuts! Oh boy oh boy Tim: we can’t wait for your Fantagraphics collection to come out.

Southern California Heavy

It’s a pity that THE DOORS get all the credit for representing Thee Darkside of the swirling kaleidoscope that was late 60’s SoCal rock. A darned shame, really, since it’s due to Jim Morrison’s lyrics, on-stage antics, and early death – more than anything musical. THE DOORS’ sound – while great! – was rooted more in nimble surf rock and jazzy improv, rather than anything approximating hard and heavy. Sonically speaking, THE DOORS weren’t as much of a challenge to the light, folksy LA approach of THE BYRDS/MAMAS & PAPAS – nor the airy, astral SF jammin’ of THE AIRPLANE, QUICKSILVER, and THE DEAD – as some would like to believe. Which meant record industry-fueled lies about Southern California rock (where it’s THE BEACH BOYS forevermore) weren’t countered anywhere near as early as they should’ve been.

Northern California had BLUE CHEER to show em how, but it was left to bands like IRON BUTTERFLY and STEPPENWOLF to start recording rock in Southern California that was actually hard and heavy. First: in a somewhat unwitting but overblown, organ-drenched VANILLA FUDGEy way. And then: in burning, riproaring hard-blues blowout fashion that rivaled their midwestern brothers (GRANK FUNK) and southern cousins (BLOODROCK) near the turn of the decade. In LA, you couldn’t get away from the music machine if ya tried . . . but gradually, such bands found audiences with a less-homogenous cross section of guys and gals outside the Sunset Strip who actually had to live/work/get by there in SoCal, day in and day out. This crowd apparently preferred crushing Gibson SGs to chiming 12-string hollow bodies, and dug listening to gtrs bass keys drums being played together en force, regardless of whether it was hitting the charts or not. The music they produced gave off a nastier, smog-choked vibe that, if not outrightly rejecting postcard California, at least provided a viable shadow alternative to the more overtly media-hyped happy sunny smiley pop concoctions coming out of LA then (see THREE DOG NIGHT).

Few records display the strengths of this time/place better than the BLUES IMAGE Open LP from 1970 released by Atco (as reissued nicely by Sundazed a few years back). These Floridian transplants’ first, self-titled LP is good, but it was here that their dynamic, latin-tinged bluesrock really came together in a well-executed whole. They grind out DEEP PURPLEish organ boog (“Pay My Dues”), commanding heavy electric blues (“Clean Love”), an all too brief stab at rocking the classics (“Fugue U”), plus a pantload of hard rockin’ tunage with a percussive Cuban influence, ala MALO – though thankfully, without the horn section and schmaltzy balladeering that dogged that band. Lots of these guys could sing and their voices were all earthy and confident, drummer Manuel Bertematti (with whom Jimi Hendrix would sometimes jam) was tight and hard-hitting, and what a great gtrist Mike Pinera once was! He doesn’t hog the spotlight, but is always ready to step up into it and rip you a new earhole when called for.

That BLUES IMAGE also managed to wedge a top-10 hit in here (“Ride Captain Ride”) is just icing on the cake. So what if it’s out of step with the rest of the LP? It’s still a great song, and it makes perfect sense they’d turn up playing it in that lost docudrama of early 70’s LA junkie streetlife, Dusty and Sweets McGee. Open is a neglected, glowing gem of the oft-ignored, heavy end of bellbottomed Southern California rock.

Do watch this quaint promo vid for their lone hit as they try their darnedest to get with the postcard California thing (as if to refute everything I’ve asserted in this post):

BLUES IMAGE – “Ride Captain Ride” 1970