Haapy Mondays - Pills 'n' Thrills And Bellyaches

Same time my brother's friend hit me with the emotionally savaging Stone Roses he dropped this on me. It had just come out. I didn't play it much, but he gave me the disc and said, "Try it - maybe later."

That fall I ran off alone to Europe for many months. I brought some tapes with. On a whim I had recorded this for the trip. It rolled over me through endless train trips and hostel nights. Shaun Ryder and I bonded over a lot of herb and belgian beers. If The Stone Roses dragged my ass through the darkness, it was Happy Mondays that, if not quite saved me, at least kept me high enough to avoid it for a while. And that gets 'em some props.

I use it to clean house anymore, but it's still pretty therapeutic.

amg:
At their peak, the Happy Mondays were hedonism in perpetual motion, a party with no beginning and no end, a party where Pills 'N' Thrills and Bellyaches was continually pumping. The apex of their career (and quite arguably the whole baggy/Madchester movement), Pills 'N' Thrills and Bellyaches pulsates with a garish neon energy, with psychedelic grooves, borrowed hooks, and veiled threats piling upon each other with the logic of a drunken car wreck. As with Bummed, a switch in producers re-focuses and redefines the Mondays, as Paul Oakenfold and Steve Osborne replace the brittle, assaultive Martin Hannett production with something softer and expansive that is truly dance-club music instead of merely suggestive of it. Where the Stone Roses were proudly pop classicists, styling themselves after the bright pop art of the '60s, the Mondays were aggressively modern, pushing pop into the ecstasy age by leaning hard on hip-hop, substituting outright thievery for sampling. Although it's unrecognizable in sound and attitude, "Step On," the big hit from Pills, is a de facto cover of John Kongos' "He's Gonna Step on You Again," LaBelle's "Lady Marmalade" provides the skeleton for "Kinky Afro," but these are the cuts that call attention to themselves; the rest of the record is draped in hooks and sounds from hits of the past, junk culture references, and passing puns, all set to a kaleidoscopic house beat. Oakenfold and Osborne may be responsible for the sound of Pills 'N' Thrills and Bellyaches, certainly more than the band, which almost seems incidental to this meticulously arranged album, but Shaun Ryder is the heart and soul of the album, the one that keeps the Mondays a dirty, filthy rock & roll outfit. Lifting melodies at will, Ryder twists the past to serve his purpose, gleefully diving into the gutter with stories of cheap drugs and threesomes, convinced that god made it easy on him, and blessed with that knowledge, happy to traumatize his girlfriend's kid by telling them that he only went with his mother cause she was dirty. He's a thug and something of a poet, creating a celebratory collage of sex, drugs, and dead-end jobs where there's no despair because only a sucker could think that this party would ever come to an end.

Hear

Tom Jones - Live In Las Vegas

For some reason I thought I posted birthday wishes to Da Man last month, but apparently I failed.

Laugh it up, but the dude still gets more action in a single weekend than you'll see in your life.

Happy 70th Birthday, TJ!

More panties than a man can handle.

amg:
Tom Jones' greatest strength is as a showman, making Tom Jones Live in Las Vegas one of his strongest records. As he tears through his well-constructed show, the vocalist works the reserved crowd into a near-frenzy, which makes him sing stronger and more dramatically. However, Tom Jones is at his best when he is at his most melodramatic, so this isn't a flaw. Jones' impassioned performance and the absence of weak material make Live in Las Vegas one of his most consistent records. Not surprisingly, it was also his biggest hit, peaking at number three on the American album charts.

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Pussy Galore - Historia De la Musica Rock

My favorite pussy, and their last.






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The Beta Band - Three EPs

Been so long. Forgot what it's like.

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Allmusic.com: That Oasis and Radiohead, the two biggest names in U.K. rock during the '90s, separately made claims in 1999 about creating a "Beta Band record" (even though neither band actually did) speaks volumes about the impact of The 3 E.P.'s. With reference points literally all across the map, the Beta Band still managed a sound that was startlingly fresh, broadly appealing to fans of jam bands, indie rock, electronica, and Brit-pop, which is no small feat in and of itself. Rather than a full-length debut, per se, The 3 E.P.'s is, as the name suggests, a collection of three limited-edition EPs which were released between 1997 and 1998 on the U.K. indie Regal Records. As such, the songs display an off-the-cuff charm which is as refreshing as it is unforced, revealing a natural progression by the band from humble folk/indie rock beginnings ("Dry the Rain," made famous in a brilliant scene in 2000's High Fidelity) to full-out psychedelic pop endings ("Needles in My Eye"). Throughout The 3 E.P.'s, rather than employing the typical verse-chorus-verse song structure exhausted by '90s alternative rock, the Beta Band successfully mines Krautrock, the Canterbury Scene, hip-hop drum loops, and even '70s funk and soul to build their songs around infectious beats, grooves, and melodies. And while many of the songs cause instant head-bobbing (witness High Fidelity), they are also helped along by Stephen Mason's alternately mantra-like and free-association vocal lines, which also manage to display a trace of sadness and introspection amid hippie-ish come-together sentiments. Despite a couple of experimental clunkers (the overly long instrumental "Monolith" and the rap during "The House Song"), it is precisely the Beta Band's skill at juxtaposition which prevents The 3 E.P.'s in being merely an exercise in met expectations (like the vast majority of '90s alternative rock). Although much of the album's popularity stemmed from its contrast with the tedious state of music upon its release, The 3 E.P.'s indeed transcends on many levels. Only a band without anything to lose or gain could create music like this, and in the end eclecticism has and will rarely sound better.

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Helios Creed - X Rated Fairytales

Space age sweat rock. It's hot in the hot tub!

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Allmusic.com Recorded with a fairly straightforward backing band (bassist Mark Duran, synth-player John Carlan, and drummer/keyboardist Bill Roth), Creed's first solo album still turned out to be something touched with the unmistakable mark of Chrome. The production was often murky and strange, effects processing was everywhere, Creed's vocals sounded on the edge of sanity, and, of course, the guitars. Still creating one massive rock surge after another, with feedback piled on top of feedback and, likely enough, more pedals than anyone had ever seen at any one time, Creed showed once again why his guitar-god reputation exists in the first place. That his first solo album continued the true vibe of Chrome where Damon Edge's own use and abuse of the name made him a laughing stock probably wasn't that surprising in the end. Creed himself thought of this album as a more stripped-down, less "stony" affair, but it's mostly a matter of splitting hairs from an outside perspective. Considering that the title track itself is an acoustic guitar-led acid folk number with appropriate crumbling guitar noises in the background and post-hippie vibes everywhere, one has to wonder what Creed considers to be really stoned music. The most crisp the album gets is with the rhythm section, which often has a good full-bodied punch to it (and if anything sounds a bit like the work of Can, one of Chrome's inspirations). There's a little less stuff about alien takeovers and lurking gods outside the solar system and the like -- there's even a semi-cover of the old Chuck Berry classic "Johnny B. Goode" -- but then again one almost-dancefloor number is called "Sex Voodoo Venus," so go figure. "Showdown" is also a pretty focused, rhythmic number notable for chunky riffs rather than extended soloing, while the "You don't like me/I don't like you" lyrics are pretty funny (and maybe about Edge -- and who could blame him?).


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Swag - Catchall

15 or so years ago, while working on a project for the television network I was employed by, I spent a little time in an edit suite in Nashville. Doug Powell, the graphics guy assigned to my project, and I spent a few days with one another and, as happens, we spent a lot of time chatting as images were rendering. The subject was often music and we discussed the fact that he was a musician and songwriter doing graphics to pay the bills.

The second day we were in the suite he brought in a demo of some songs for his album. He had recently been signed by RCA after Jules Shear had introduced him to an A&R guy there and was hopeful about finishing the record soon and its release. The songs were great - Todd Rundgren, Jules Shear, and a host of other power pop masters had obviously been big influences. We stayed in touch after I left Nashville. He sent me unreleased Jules Shear demos and kept me posted on his album status.

Sadly, the exec who had signed him moved to Mercury, and although he took album with him, just as it was released a new label prez fired the A&R guy and stopped promotion on the album. Doug, nursed his wounds and cheered himself by touring with Todd Rundgren. Rundgren also liked Doug's stuff and agreed to produce his second album, but Mercury rejected the recording and dumped Doug.

Doug went about recording and self-releasing his stuff out of Nashville and getting chummy with his fellow musicians there. Although his music collected good reviews and showed his talent, his best work came not as a solo artist, but with a bunch of buddies as a lark.

In 2001, Doug, along with Ken Coomer (Wilco), Tom Petersson (Cheap Trick), Jerry Dale McFadden (Sixpence None The Richer), and Robert Reynolds (The Mavericks), formed a one-off group, Swag.

Catchall, their only full-length release, is like a tour of pure pop history - a joyous, raucous, party that delights the senses. Sounding in turns like the Beatles, Elvis Costello, and even Cheap Trick (the Petersson penned Ride, adds the twist of actually namechecking his real band), they have a gas and you can tell this was a labor of love for all of them. It's a shame this was the extent of their work - the collaboration ultimately dissolved in lawsuits - but it's worth it.

Of interest:
Lone
the McCartneyesque Near Perfect Smile and Different Girl
Please Don't Tell Her
the Costelloesque Eight
& Louise

Hear

Kain - The Blue Guerrilla [1970]

Apologies for the false advertising on that "flurry" of 1970 releases. I was briefly detained. Gylan Kain of the original Last Poets is here to make up for it. Nothing I could type will elucidate this album more than "Put it on now".

So, do that if you can. I'm leaving through the back door. You didn't see me.

Look out for The Blue Guerrilla