Reissues Less Sweet

Yes, there are brand-new digipak reissues available of the strikingly idiosyncratic first pair of studio LPs by PSYCHIC TV: Force the Hand of Chance and Dreams Less Sweet. But don’t be a heel like me and actually buy em. These things are damn-near bootlegs! Original PTV gtrist Alex Fergusson tells me Stevo at Some Bizzare Records didn’t involve anybody from the band to give permission or imput, and I can vouch for the fact that they feel/look/sound like piss poor, 2nd-gen. knockoffs of the already existing, flawed 90’s counterparts (so can this guy). Alex says: stick with the original UK vinyl if you wanna experience what was actually intended by this band of brave cultural terrorists . . .

But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Lemme back up a bit.

PSYCHIC TV were to the post-industrial set what THE GRATEFUL DEAD were to hippie, what CRASS were to peace punk – in terms of scene figureheads, extended family dedication, and sheer voluminous, jammin’ output. First they were a sham cult, then a sham band, then an actual cult and an actual band, after which they ditched the band, and then the cut loose the cult, and finally . . . yeah it’s all so convoluted and kinda inconsequential anyway. The biopic will one day tell all (here’s hoping they’ll convince John Malkovich to play Genesis).

But aah! Those records! Well they were something else entirely. What you get when you spin any of the 100-odd PSYCHIC TV records released is an uneasy mixture of groping, blind-alley experimentation (that would be Mr. P-Orridge), alternatingly harsh/delicate musical overlay (courtesy of fine folks like Alex Fergusson and Peter Christopherson, and later on, Fred Giannelli or Larry Thrasher) and a whole grab bag of really intuitive, sonic déjà vu – to which every adept involved lent a fair amount of psychic willpower.

Each one of their records sounds like it might’ve been made by an entirely different group, which they often were. Some sound like an inverted-cross version of Syd Barrett’s PINK FLOYD (the Sordid Sentimentale releases), others like early Detroit House outtakes (Jack The Tab and Tekno Acid Beat) or Scientological self-help talking books (Al-Or-Al, Cathedral Engine). Still others sound like creepy little painted Easter eggs climbing up yo’ inner thigh (Dreams Less Sweet). The rockin’ was often rickety but SO WHAT! All their records contain moments of pure whitelight bliss, ones that can make your head do a 360-degree spin whether it’s asking to or not. And songs like “Stolen Kisses”, “The Orchids”, “Godstar” and “Roman P.” are out-of-time, otherworldly gems and oughta really be played throughout retail environments all across the Midlands, daily forevermore.

Now I don’t wanna get into some silly argument about whether Genesis P-Orridge is genius, wizard, or charlatan. He’s clearly a bit of each and no doubt an egomanical bastard besides. But that’s precisely what makes most of these records so darn compelling: he’s everything you want to accuse him of except shy. He maximized all he had at his disposal, and then some.

My advice for PTV virgins? Buy Godstar: Thee Director’s Cut (their glorious attempt at Brit popularism) or Live in Paris (the PTV live thang at it’s most magickal), ditch the word and let them ooooze, baby. And wait on baited breath for Stevo at Some Bizzare to GET A FUCKING CLUE.

Thanks to MonkeyIron for the pic

Drawing Blodwyn from a Stone

Oh my does the writing of “prolific rock critic” Richie Unterberger put a nasty itch under my skin. Seems every time I click over to www.allmusic.com to get the lowdown on the career of some 60’s or 70’s heavy/hard rock group, I find that egads! the group has been placed in front of Ritchie for due consideration. And consider he does . . . only through the squinty little eyes of someone who apparently believes 1966 was the high point of western civilization as we know it. A strict folkrock=good, heavyrock=bad maxim permeates nearly every one of his jaded reviews, like he’s never read Joe Carducci’s Rock and the Pop Narcotic. When he’s not decrying the apparently subpar musicians on later LOVE records I dig (“none of whom had skills on the level of Bryan MacLean or the other original LOVE men”), he can be found yawning at the work of gorgeous acid-psych bands like MIGHTY BABY (“fairly generic late-’60s British rock”).

Worst of all, he’s often saddled with the task of revisiting the inconsistent but still important discography of full-on hardrock bands like THREE MAN ARMY, whom he can’t possibly begin to understand, let alone appreciate. It’s a recipe for disaster. Of course he’s gonna brand their best record, Third of a Lifetime: “ordinary to the point of dullness.” Might as well ask my grandmother her opinion of it – at least she’d find it novel. Ritchie just doesn’t have it in him to make sense of such music; in the process, great rock gets completely overlooked.

Which gets me to BLODWYN PIG’s second and altogether greater LP, entitled Getting To This. Over at AllMusic, Ritchie gives it no more than two sentences, one of which claims it “took a more pile-driving approach than their first effort, but the material wasn’t as strong.” I am again struck by this man’s inability to tackle anything with an ounce of heavy in it. And yet again, a great platter is dismissed outright.

What actually was going on here was Mick Abraham’s jazzy, TULLoid hard bluesrock was growing in expansive/creative directions similar to Roger Chapman’s great and unique FAMILY. But the PIG were less eccentric about it, and hence able to remind audiences more frequently that they were hardrockers at heart. Folks often compare this to early COLOSSEUM LPs like Grass Is Greener – yet another 2nd tier Brit jazz rock band you oughta at least spend a quid or two on before you die. Fair enough, though I find the energy of the PIG fires this to an entirely new level, bringing to mind a raucous, turn-of-the-decade PRETTY THINGS. And anyway the effete jazzbos in COLOSSEUM never enticed gtr-Adonis Larry Wallis (later of PINK FAIRIES) to join them, as the PIG did for a few months after this record was released.

In retrospect, Getting To This is a totally vital piece of the beautiful and outta-control puzzle that was the late 60’s/early 70’s UK rock underground. It was produced in that exciting cusp where progressive still meant vibrancy, still meant unpredictability, still everything-but-the-kitchen-sink exploratory. To this day it blows my mind that this island produced soooo goddamn many worthy – hell, great! – rock bands as the 60’s became the 70’s. Screw the punker era – hands down, this earlier period was the pinnacle of UK rock, probably forevermore.

‘Course, knowing Ritchie biases, he’d probably gloss over both of these periods – and get paid to say so, no less. Hey Ritchie: next time AllMusic asks you to review a newly-discovered SAVOY BROWN live set from ‘69, kindly float it my way; I’ll know how to listen to it.

BLODWYN PIG – “See My Way” (Getting To This, Chrysalis Records, 1970)

The Bruce Duff Factor

Bassist Bruce Duff has been working his twisted idea of rock music into the LA underground for a good 25 years now, and shows no signs of slowing in 2008. For beginners, there’s a great interview with the man himself here. I really don’t know a hell of a lot more about him, other than he is repeatedly attracted to the glammy, freak end of metaloid punk – you know, the end where theatre grease paint drips in bloody, clotted globules from an emaciated, hollow-cheeked singer impersonating a shrieking hyena. And while there’s no actual connection between the following EPs, Bruce Duff’s name does appear someplace on the back cover of each, guaranting they all exude an outsider weirdness consistent with those living/feeling/emoting space aliens who’ve sought to deliver their message via rock n roll. Grab a spacesuit and do step carefully into the airlock:

1. 45 GRAVE – Phantoms EP (Enigma Records, 1983) – The difficult transition record between the unholy GERMS riffing of their amazing first “Black Cross” single, and the sorta lackluster, dead-on-a-platter metal pose of their Sleep In Safety LP. This was the only waxed evidence of Bruce’s tenure with the band, though apparently they recorded a full album’s worth of tunes at the time. Admittedly, the sound is ragged and the mix piss-poor, but the songs are loopy fun, Paul Cutler’s soloing weird-ass, and the sonic vibe altogether subterranean. With a few more rehearsals and some aural clarity, this particular GRAVE could’ve waxed a piece a heavenly hell. Hear it here.

2. THE WILD – S/T EP (Erika Records, 1983) – To really appreciate this one, you’re gonna haveta read Sleazegrinder’s awesome write-up of it in Lovers, Buggers, & Thieves published by Headpress in 2005. These insane clowns were probably trippier to behold than actually listen to, but that don’t mean what they laid down was bad. Not in the slightest, and it smacks of little engineered Duffisms – particularly the spoken/sung vocals and oddball production with prominent, in-your-face gtrs – every which way you turn. And these WILD guys, talk about rarito. They just don’t give birth to em on this planet like they used to. Read more about and listen to this nutty artifact here.

3. THE JESTERS OF DESTINY – In a Nostalgic Mood EP (Metal Blade Records, 1987) – There’s a full-length CD by these guys now sadly out-of-print that all self-respecting freaks (that’s you) should own. None of these EP cuts made it on that, so completist fans (that’s me) need both. Here they give you doom rock – before the genre existed! – with a massive cover of SABBATH’s “Electric Funeral,” a heady and melodramatic take on CCR’s “Fortunate Son” with piano courtesy of DC3’s Paul Roessler, a totally fun butchering of HENDRIX’s “Foxy Lady”, and more. Bruce apparently doesn’t think too highly of these particular recordings, but me I love em. In the context of the mid/late 80’s LA metal underground, this musta seemed like the work of total nutcases. We approve, Bruce, we approve.

4. THE ULTRAS – Complete Handbook of Songwriting EP (XXX Records, 1991) – Bruce is only producing here, and since it was the early 90’s it’s suave, polished, and spit-shined. But the rocking is far more compelling that anything on the FASTER PUSSYCAT records I used to own, and the lyrics completely leftfield; no doubt THE ULTRAS are the only hair metal act ever to reference William S. Burroughs, Charles Manson, and Mel Lyman in their lyrics (see their “Tramp on the Road“). This is actually one of the oddest recordings to come outta the late LA glam daze, and a great one it was.

5. CIRCLE – Earthworm EP (Ektro Records, 2006) – the only one of these even remotely in print. The guys in Finland’s CIRCLE put out the JESTERS OF DESTINY reissue CD a few years ago, and then thought so highly of Mr. Duff as to ask him to lend some of his vocal JESTERS to their 2006 recordings. And dammit if CIRCLE didn’t come up with what my ears call their best effort yet. I tend not to have alot of patience for what’s passed off in the name of “minimalism” these days, but these CIRCLE boys have a nifty way of grafting quite extreme, off-world elements (like Bruce!) atop their repetitive, circular riffing. Makes for some maximal enjoyment, me thinks.

———

MySpace rumour has it that there’s a Bruce Duff/Mike Watt record in the works. Can this be true? Probably not, but an earthling can can hope.

Sippin’ Zappa

On Saturday 4 October 2008, the founders of two world-class blogs – Pig State Recon and Impy Malting – met up to exchange thoughts, question assumptions, and simply bask in the formidable glow of Frank Zappa, his well-respected We’re Only In It For the Money LP from 1968, and a limited-edition, Belgian style triple ale (8.2% ABV) brewed by the Laginutas Brewing Co. to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the album’s release. And bask we did – after dropping the needle on the, er, illegally downloaded MP3s and capping the bottle which had been graciously smuggled from the wilds of Nerdi Gras (aka Dragon Con) by our dearest friend and kick-ass mezzo soprano, Liza. Here’s how it played out:
———-
Impy: So basically this record is about getting crabs? He’s mentioned them three times already. Is this Sgt. Pepper’s derivative?

Mrowster: Yeah, same year or thereabouts. It’s a satire. A lampoon. A political cartoon of a record. I never read those cartoons. I’d rather read Andy Capp. Have you ever met a funny Zappa fan?

I: They’re always overly-intellectual eggheads. Was that a Beatles’ reference? I think that one was referencing “When I’m 64″.

M: There’s like 15 people playing on this record, but it’s all about Frank. You can see him, smell him everywhere. I don’t believe people into heavy drugs were into this. Sure, maybe people smoked pot and giggled to it, but dropping acid to this? No way.

I: So all I know about Triples is the water goes through the mash tun three times, and that it’s strong. And Belgian. I have no idea if this is authentic to the style. I mean, it’s orange. Kinda sour.

photo by Dr000 on flickr, creative commons license.

M: My stomach itches. That song “Hot Poop” was more like a lifeless turd.

I: There’s a lively carbonation. Kind of a dog-food nose, but I’m not making up my mind yet. Cumquats, or apricots. Suddenly, I wish it was colder so it would taste less.

M: Ooh – wow – It’s kind of like that taste in your mouth when you wake up in the morning. Zappa was always going on about how he was “influenced by Stockhausen”.

I: Who’s Stockhausen?

M: Just like this modern composition guy. This record is not beautiful or even emotionally complex.

I: It’s munchkin rock. Do you think we should have aged it?

M: The record is already 40 years old, I don’t think it’s gonna ever sound any better.

I: I can’t get past the smell.

M: It’s really tough going. Is there anything about this beer that speaks of Zappa?

I: The colour – I mean, it’s bright orange. It looks like Fanta or something.

M: I don’t know if we can even get through it: 1 pt., 6 oz. and a double album.

I: Wait – it’s a double album?

M: [checks the stream] Sorry, false alarm. It’s only one album.

I: I wish we were listening DIGITAL UNDERGROUND instead. Their “No Nose Job” beats this “What’s the Ugliest Part of Your Body?” song in every way. Was that a Jesus Christ Superstar reference I just heard?

M: This predates Jesus Christ Superstar. If this is Zappa’s crowning achievement . . . my god. This is completely not what I was expecting from the beer or the man. Man.

I: Did you get the fish note just then?

M: The fish-juice note! Clearly Zappa put a lot of time into this.

I: I guess, but it seems pretty arbitrary to me.

M: I’m just saying there’s a lot going on on this record. It’s just not pleasurable to go into, nor is this beer. Oh man.

I: Did you just get the fish note again?

M: I got the fish note again. Is there anything good we can say about this? I’ve tried to say it’s complex.

I: All I can think about is how he got from this to “Valley Girl”. Should we write the post now?

M: We’ve got to finish the beer first. At least it’s getting easier because of the alcohol content.

I: The beer leaves a kind of nice flavor on my lips. Like Sweet Tarts.

M: You always hope there’s some hidden beauty in Zappa, because everyone says it’s great.

I: Dweezil is kind of cute. Zappa made him. I saw him on Letterman once. Ok, I don’t know if I can finish this.

M: We can change to another Zappa record. But wait, I don’t have another Zappa record. I have some Beefheart though . . .

Relatin’ Dudes to SST

Man oh man oh man did I ever hoot outloud when Donut Duck over at the SST Records-loving blog, The Blasting Concept, published this post about an unknown mid-80’s bass & drums duo who once called themselves THE CHASTITY TWINS. While these CHASTITY boys never left the garage, a pantload of SST Records sure as hell found their way into their bedrooms. The TWINS not only worked up a bunch of instrumental MINUTEMEN tunage, but they also tried their hand at BLACK FLAG, GONE, and frickin’ PAINTED WILLIE songs too. Nuts! The bassist goes for it like only a teen who’d recently fallen under the gargantuan spell of Watt’s Thud Staff could’ve. And all in gloriously muddy, lo-fi cassette deck fidelity – though this kinda microsubcultural homage couldn’t possibly exist any other way. Download their entire Dudes Jammin’ ‘86 spiel tape here.