AMG: The warm tones and thematic grace of Dilute is immediately apparent on The Gypsy Valentine Curve, the band's 2000 effort on Michigan's 54-40 or Fight Records. The disc opens with the composed and graceful "Bea" before unleashing an unpredictable flurry of songs throughout the nearly 70-minute platter. The spacious-sounding and unyielding experimentation of "Arrows Pointed Down" shows the band in the throes of a creative frenzy. The band breaks from musical convention throughout. The San Francisco Bay area quartet of Jay Pellicci, Ian Pellicci, Craig Colla, and Marty Anderson impress throughout with an inspiring and inventive spirit. Completely unpredictable, the wonderfully simple and thunderous "Rock and Roll" showcases Anderson's seething vocals, reminiscent of Roeland Van Niel, of Holland's Gitbox. The lengths the band goes to experiment with different tempo and chord changes makes the disc remarkably enticing, despite its lack of cohesiveness. "Freedumb" again puts the listener in a false sense of security, with the slowcore opening, before the rise-and-fall choruses startle you with their blistering and calculated, thrash-metal frenzy. Songs like "Saving a Life," while rooted in improvisation, hint at a certain thoughtful planning as well, despite its wonderfully quirky approach. The hushed roar of "Improvisations" closes out the eight-track disc with, not surprisingly, a colorful and extended improvisation. Recorded from April 1997 to September 1999, 54-40 or Fight Records finally released this masterpiece in 2000.
AMG on Vols 1 & 2: Containing instrumental versions of previously released vocal tracks (everything from MF Doom's Operation: Doomsday to his work with K.M.D. and Monster Island Czars is represented here), a handful of previously vinyl-only cuts and some borrowed guest tracks from the likes of DJ Spinna, DJ Cucumber Slice, and Doom's long-lamented little brother DJ Sub-Roc, Special Herbs, Vol. 1 & 2 is a mish-mash of prog-inflected beats and crackpot schematics that wavers between being a little overlong and flirting with divine inspiration. Longtime fans shouldn't be fooled by the seemingly fresh track titles, though -- in keeping with the album's theme, even the most familiar beats have been renamed. In spite of MF Doom's signature production, which casts prog music's liquid tones on a variety of organic instruments, a few of these recycled cuts ("Arrow Root," "Mullein") suffer from repetition when unveiled in instrumental form. Sandwiched between some of the more trying loops, however, are some dazzlingly inventive offerings, namely the '70s cop-drama squeal of "Coriander," the rolling crush of "Fenugreek," the wiffly flutes of "Nettle Leaves," and the plush, liquid soul of "Monosodium Glutamate." Even the much-maligned low-budget game show cheese of "Zatar" deserves a nod, if nothing else than for its sheer imagination.
I've been meaning to post this for some time and forgot but then I heard a cover of Time today and was reminded what a phenomenal stud Richard Hell is/was and, dammit, gotta toss this bastard up on the FROxx sin delay!
Enjoy!
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Stylus: Fuck Rock and Roll (I’d Rather Read a Book) – Richard Hell
The story goes like this: two boarding school friends run away from home some time around 1966, and start hitchhiking through the South. An Alabama policeman sees them huddled around a fire in an abandoned lot, and asks what they’re doing. One responds that they’re just trying to keep warm; his compatriot looks at the cop and tells him that he likes watching things burn.
The pyrophilic young man is, of course, Richard Hell. Bearing a new name inspired by ‘Une Saison en Enfer’, he would (along with his childhood friend, now known as Tom Verlaine) be one of the prime movers behind the nascent punk scene, defining many of the aesthetics that we now take for granted: the snarling, snotty vocals, the ripped t-shirts and cropped hair, all find their start here. His name pops up in half the bands of the era: the Neon Boys, Television, the Heartbreakers all started with Hell mauling his bass, even if he left (or was kicked out of) each band after a matter of months. It was only with his final band, the Voidoids, that he would manage to get more than a few scratchy demos committed to tape. Yet even there, the total output of the Voidoids amounted to a paltry two albums (1977’s Blank Generation and 1982’s Destiny Street) before Hell turned his back on music and committed himself to writing.
This compilation just about doubles the amount of Hell material available, consisting of one disc of demos, rarities and alternate takes (the long out-of-print R.I.P. material, originally released on ROIR cassette in 1984), and one disc of live performances. The sound quality is the weakest part of the album, ranging from passable to poor, but this seems more a fault of the original tapes than this release. It’s beautifully packaged, with photos aplenty and an essay by Hell (and I do mean an essay: he does a line-by-line analysis of the title track.).
The rarities start off with a quartet of demos recorded by the Heartbreakers, most notably ‘Love Comes In Spurts’, a remarkable song which manages to combine ruminations on frustrated love with jokes about premature ejaculation, and tie them together with a Johnny Thunders guitar solo. There’s also a stellar version of ‘Chinese Rocks’, co-written by Dee Dee Ramone, but (temporarily) rejected by his bandmates for being about heroin. What’s immediately clear from these demos is that, unlike many of their contemporaries, the Heartbreakers knew how to play their instruments. These songs are a constant battle of wills between Hell’s writing and Thunders’ guitar licks, and you can feel the sparks flying.
The remainder of material comes from Hell’s Voidoid days, when he was paired with guitarist Robert Quine. While their relationship was certainly less fractious than that of Hell’s former bands, that doesn’t mean that Quine’s playing is subordinated to his bandmate’s ego. If anything, the tone of the songs becomes even darker, with distinctly angular guitar chords conveying menace around every twist of the songs. Hell’s writing is at its best, as well. Songs like ‘Betrayal Takes Two’, ‘Time’, and ‘Funhunt’ (Don't like to get too aggressive, in it for the fun/Weapon's a reputation--good mouth beats gun) are as sharp and incisive as anything that has come out of the punk canon.
The live performances are absolutely savage, made up of mostly Blank Generation material. Hell has called the 1977 show that makes up the majority of this disc their most “aggressive” ever. Fed up with their opening spot for the Clash, the Voidoids tear through their headlining set in under 30 minutes, with barely a break for air. ‘Blank Generation’ makes its appearance here in all its ragged stop-start glory, with one of the greatest opening lines in history (I was sayin’ let me out of here before I was even born). They cover the Stooges, CCR, and surprisingly, return for an encore of the Stones’ ‘Ventilator Blues’. If you want to know how much influence Richard Hell had on punk, listen to Johnny Rotten screaming “More!!! More!!!” at the end of the set. Slightly more sedate, ‘Time’ closes out with a four song radio broadcast, with Elvis Costello helping out on guitar.
While Blank Generation remains the essential document of Hell and Co., Time is going to be of interest of anyone into early NY punk, and serves as a decent overview of his brief career. Now, the next project I want the folks at Matador to tackle is putting together decent versions of Heartbreakers material, and most elusively, the Neon Boys\Television demos.
I read recently that Kevin Coyne listed this as one of his favorite records. I'd never dedicated much time to this Beefheart record, always falling back on the earlier stand-bys.
Do yourself a favor, set Troutmask aside for a few years and give this your Beefheart time. You do dedicate time to Beefheart, doncha? Put that shit in yr Outlook!
Like two flamingos in a fruit fight...
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Allmusic.com: So titled because the original album, simply titled Bat Chain Puller, had to be ditched and rerecorded after a legal tuzzle involving Frank Zappa's manager, Shiny Beast turned out to be manna from heaven for those feeling Beefheart had lost his way on his two Mercury albums. Then again, what else could be assumed with a song titled "Tropical Hot Dog Night" that sounds like what happened when Beefheart encountered Miami disco and decided to make something of it? When it comes to singing, though, he's still the atypical growler, snarler and more of lore, conjuring up more wonderfully odd lyrical stories than can easily be measured, while the album as a whole gets steadily more and more bent. "You Know You're a Man" is at once straightforward and incredibly weird when it comes to love and gender, while other standouts include "Bat Chain Puller," a steady chugger that feels like a goofy death march, and the nervy freak of "Owed T'Alex." As for the Magic Band in general, keyboardist Eric Drew Feldman, guitarists Jeff Tepper and Richard Redus and drummer Robert Williams lay down the business with appropriately gone aplomb, as a listen to "Suction Prints" will demonstrate.
The fact that this was one of my favorite records as a dumb suburban kid should surprise no one. It's juvenile, pissy, so unPC (being PC is NOT fun, ahem, Fugazi) and it just plain rocks balls n ovaries. Additionally, one must appreciate the fact that this band added absolutely nothing and took nothing away. Like West Coast punk cotton candy or astronaut ice cream.
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Allmusic.com: Destructive, mischievous, and politically incorrect are just some of the words to describe L.A.'s Angry Samoans. And with their second album Back From Samoa, they remain to have that inability to care about who's toes they step on; as long as they continue to blast out their aggressions, it's all good. The results are pretty tasteless and without shame with songs like "They Saved Hitler's Cock" and the cuss ridden "Ballad of Jerry Curlan." Then there's the hit-you-from-behind "Lights Out," "Steak Knife," and "You Stupid Jerk," each clocking in under a minute. With this amount of nihilism, "Back From Samoa" can instigate the trouble-maker out of anyone. And give additional credit to the Samoans for being this blunt, PC activists will be screaming for the doors upon hearing this.
Norcal's snotty seminal ones. Noisy n scummy n all that good stuff. Severely underrated.
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Wikipedia: Crime was an early American punk band from San Francisco. The band formed in 1976 by Johnny Strike (vocals, guitar), Frankie Fix (vocals, guitar), Ron "The Ripper" Greco (bass; ex-Flamin' Groovies), and Ricky Tractor (Ricky Williams) (drums). Their debut, the self-financed double A-side, "Hot Wire My Heart" and "Baby You're So Repulsive", appeared at the end of 1976, and is the first single released by a U.S. punk act from the West Coast.
In the following years Crime changed their line-up multiple times: Williams was fired (later appearing in groups such as Flipper, Toiling Midgets and The Sleepers; he is now deceased) and was succeeded by Brittly Black in 1977. After releasing one single, another double A-side, "Frustration" and "Murder by Guitar", Black was replaced by Hank Rank (Henry Rosenthal) that same year. In 1979, Greco left the band and was replaced by Joey D'Kaye on bass, who had been the band's sound engineer.
Greco and Black both returned for Crime's last release, the single "Maserati/Gangster Funk" in 1981, while D'Kaye moved to synthesizers and produced the recording. The band split up the following year. Strike and D'Kaye briefly formed a synthpunk duo called Vector Commande, while Fix attempted to start a solo career. Neither produced any record releases.
Frankie Fix died in 1996, and Brittly Black in 2004.
San Francisco's Doomed, a collection of studio recordings and rehearsal tapes, was released by Solar Lodge in the United Kingdom in 1991 on vinyl and CD. Fix, Strike and Rank played on all the songs, with Greco playing bass on side one of the LP, and D'Kaye on side two. The album was re-released as San Francisco's Still Doomed (with added tracks and remastering) in 2004 by Swami Records.
Sonic Youth featured a cover of "Hot Wire My Heart" on their 1987 release Sister.
After reforming in 2007 to headline the Road to Ruins punk festival in Rome, Crime recorded a new album of rare, older material entitled Exalted Masters, on LP only. The album cover was done by Rex Ray. They played a half dozen shows in 2008 to support their new album, and recently collaborated with the Moroccan group the Gnawa Express. Original members Strike and Rank are joined by: Mickey Tractor on bass, and Count Fink aka Brett Stillo (The Flakes) on guitar. There has been recent activity in getting the long awaited box set ready for release, possibly in 2009.
I've had zerofuckingpatience lately. This represents and coddles that.
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AMG: Originally issued as a two-LP set in 1983, this is one of the defining documents of the West Coast punk scene. (A pronouncement like that would have made most of these 47 bands throw up, but it's still true.) As such, it was also hardcore punk's swan song, arguably the last relatively unselfconscious expression of a naively nihilistic and homogeneously noncomformist youth subculture that was designed to fall apart. Of the bands represented here, which ones still exist? None, although Flipper and the Dead Kennedys have secured a place in pop music history and there may still be shreds of Millions of Dead Cops (aka Multi-Death Corporation, aka Millions of Dead Christians, aka More Dead Cops) touring around. It would go against the communalistic spirit of the thing to point out highlights, of course, but Bad Posture's charmingly acronymic "GDSMFSOB" is worth noting, as are Flipper's sludgy "Sacrifice"and M.A.D.'s "Holocaust." "Collapse," by Ribsy, clocks in at a nice, succinct 48 seconds. Try not to feel guilty for getting nostalgic.
