This is one of those forgotten-about (to me) untarnished relics that popped up on Peter Zaremba's The Cutting Edge (which really deserves a musing all of its own considering how defining it was for your dear author. Ah... when MTV played music by people who could play music).
This sounds really corny but you don't hear music like this theeeese days.
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TrouserPress: Dream Syndicate was one of the first bands from Los Angeles' psychedelic revival (misleadingly dubbed the paisley underground) to reach a national audience. While many of the movement's bands plumbed the Byrds/Buffalo Springfield or Pink Floyd archives for inspiration, Dream Syndicate's weird, obsessive lyrics, relentless noise maelstroms — mixed with eerie/pretty otherworldly dirges and ballads — and singer Steve Wynn's nasal rasping and ranting recalled the Velvet Underground, though (of course) they steadfastly denied that to be their intent.
Following the release of a four-song demo on Wynn's Down There label, the quartet made its proper debut on The Days of Wine and Roses, rawly produced by Chris D. (Flesh Eaters/Divine Horsemen). With driving, feedback- drenched guitars and stream-of-consciousness lyrical spume, the record appealed to sensitive English-major college radio programmers too young to shoot up to the Velvets the first time around. (The UK-only Tell Me When It's Over EP adds three live cuts to the title track, drawn from the album.)
4 comments:
Wynn's latest '08 solo release: 'Crossing Dragon Bridge' sounds really promising, too, judging by clips. Really good! Such a great songwriter.
Strangely, I never would have imagined you appreciating this masterpiece. Context is crucial to understanding its value. Under the swoon of the electronic, and frequently passionless brit invasion of the early 80's this record arrived like a hot wind from the desert that scorched any and all that lay in its path. It is a genuine american classic that Wynn, Smith, Duck and the shamefully overlooked guitar god, Karl Precoda never again achieved.
It stands true and tall above the heap of its contemporaries and those that followed in its wake. It is grand, dark, morose, eery, and if derivative, it at least choose its sources wisely.
No collection of pop is complete without it; no music listener truly serious having never heard it.
and why would I not appreciate this?
Because my dear Roxxer, despite your remarkably good taste in music, the Paisley Underground and its whirling tangents have never seemed to pique your interest. Even though you respect much of what came before your birth, you've often offered up mucho disdain for those masterful items that emerged just before your musical consciousness was birthed.
I will never forget your callous dismissals of Air Supply.
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