If you're reading the Ripple Effect blog, chances are you're a connoisseur of the more esoteric side of rock music. And, chances are you've heard the name Screaming Lord Sutch bantered about.
“Screaming” Lord David Edward Sutch was doing the shock rock shtick as early as 1959. Coming onstage in a top hat which he would doff to reveal his shoulder length hair (scandalous for the time) He employed all manner of horror themed theatrics, such as being wheeled out onstage in a coffin, menacing pretty young girls in the audience with a knife, and throwing raw meat out into the crowd. This is all at least a decade before Alice Cooper, and more than two decades before Blackie Lawless and WASP. His earliest singles were produced by the legendary and slightly mad Joe Meek, and members of his backing band, the Savages would go onto greater fame joining Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin and the Jimi Hendrix Experience.
The records that Sutch and Meek churned out were heavily produced slabs of black-humored genius. Songs like “Jack the Ripper”, “Till the Following Night (Big Black Coffin)”, “Dracula's Daughter”, and “She's Fallen in Love with a Monster Man” would grace the A sides of singles, while Lord Sutch and the Savages unique take on 50's rock n roll standards like “Don't You Just Know it”, “I'm a Hog For You” and “Good Golly Miss Molly” would be the B-Sides.
Throughout the early-mid 60's Sutch and his ever changing Savages took their horror show on the road playing these songs, while the rock n' roll scene grew and changed around them. By the late 1960's the Scary Showman's act was passe as rock music became more psychedelic and serious.
In 1970 his Lordship called upon some of his former charges who had surpassed him in celebrity and recorded an album called “Lord Sutch and Heavy Friends”. Backed by the likes of Jimmy Page, Noel Redding, Jeff Beck, John Bonham, Carlo Little, and Nicky Hopkins just to name a few, it was a can't miss formula. Most of the tracks were clumsy remakes of old 50's rockabilly tunes, and the exemplary musicianship couldn't mask Sutch's lack of vocal talent and the album was a flop.
Undaunted, in 1972, Sutch unscrupulously used some recordings from a one-off gig with another group of “Heavy Friends” and released “Hands of Jack the Ripper”. Featuring Ritchie Blackmore, Nick Simper, Matthew Fischer (Procol Harem), and Keith Moon just to name a few – who had no idea the impromptu set would be released. According to http://thebookofbands2.blogspot.com/ Ritchie Blackmore was given $500 for playing the gig. He noticed the recording equipment onstage and thought, “He's doing it again”.
During the 70's Sutch all but abandoned music and focused on his political career. He became notorious for losing elections, but with his constituents in the Monster Raving Loony Party, made a great show of it and exposed the true ridiculousness of politics and politicians. Sutch's ideas such as lowering the voting age to 18, having pubs open all day, and issuing passports for pets all eventually became law in Britain.
In 1999, overcome with depression and the grief associated with his mother's recent death, Lord Sutch took how own life. I'm not going to pretend I know anything about the man and what his personal troubles were, but it's obvious he was dealing with something that was too overwhelming. Digging deep into the internet I found out there were various mini-scandals brewing beneath the surface at the time of his death, involving an ex-wife and a child who may or may not have been his. The truth about this and other things were going to come to light it seems and maybe his Lordship did not want to be around to find out. He's the only one that knows and even with a Ouija board we'll never truly know the truth.
However, his music is worth seeking out - “Lord Sutch and Heavy Friends” has been likened to what the demos for Led Zeppelin II must have sounded like. And there is some very good playing on this and “hands of Jack the Ripper”.
Lost along the top margin, printed in tiny block letters, are the words "File Under: The Boss Mustangs - Rock and Roll."
Hell yeah!
I mean, HELL YEAH!
The Boss Mustangs come raging from outta where ever it is that they come from sounding like the kinky bastard sex child of the Sonics and the MC5 or the bloody aftermath of an epic night of Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, a case of whiskey, a fist full of uppers, and some unknown substance to be identified by the science lab later.
File Under: Rock, indeed.
Revved up, amped up, frantic old school garage rock is the name of the game here and the Boss Mustangs bring it on full throttle, raw and full of badass '60's attitude. Imagine an illegal drag race on the mean streets of Detroit circa 1969, beer and oil spewing, speed and bennies flying, girls lurching and churning, men angry and throwing fists, as big motored muscle cars tear the shit outta the asphalt. Yep, that's the Boss Mustangs.
From their too-cool-for-words matching Nero jackets to the authentic fuzz of their dual-guitar assault, The Boss Mustangs don't miss a trick. So let's dig in shall we? First, did I say fuzz? I meant it. Whereas, Dave Davies famously took a razor to his amp to produce that fuzz tone for "You Really Got Me," The Boss Mustangs took a freaking chainsaw. Thick slabs of distorto guitar cranking through 3-chord rave-ups of the first order and guitar solos serious enough to show that these guys got real chops. Not a lost note here, just crunchy spewed out garage guitar nirvana.
The singer? Well, I wouldn't want to be an epithelial cell on his vocal chords. When this dude wants to rave, he can reach down and screech with the best of em. Serious vocal chord shredding loss of abandon like the best moments of those crazy Sonics songs like "Psycho." And when he's not letting it loose, the guy can actually sing. Soft or loud, we got that covered.
So that leaves just one thing. The songs. From the first moment that big guitar comes in after the high hat intro to "Turn On" I was sold. Toss in a fertile scream, set the rhythm section loose like a pack of angry attack dogs and we got one of the damn best garage-punk songs I've heard in ages. I mean this song has it all. Wailing guitars, big hooks, and a beat that'd drive the Go-Go dancers crazy, shaking that frilly stuff covering their hips and asses in an orgasmic frenzy. No matter what anybody else says, this should be the party anthem for pool parties the nation over.
And The Boss Mustangs aren't one-trick ponies. "Mrs. McKee" b/w "Hazel Holly (Please Come Back) was the bands first 7" and both cuts are included here. The first being a pounding retro-60's beast of burden with more fuzz than an orchard of peaches, while the later brings in some sweet songwriting dynamics before launching into that crushing riff and mayhem that follow. Both cuts got big melodies and serious garage chops.
Then there's "New York Francine." Damn, I know I've heard this song before. It was at that speed party in the basement underground club. 1969? Detroit? Chi-town? Don't remember. Too many dead brain cells but the booze was flowing, the girls were loose, and . . . well, I'll never tell. Needless to say, "New York Francine" brings out all the best of Motor City madness.
The Boss Mustangs call what they do Powergarage RocknRoll. Yep. They say they nail the sound of heavy post psychedelic-era Detroit and London. Check. Raw and ragged, high energy, oil can smashed to the face, garage rock stompers. I'm there. Liked the album so much I immediately ran out and bought the 7" vinyl. You should too.
December in Pennsylvania is a fickle and confused month. Mother Nature goes bi-polar all over our asses and people's behavior starts to mimic. Some days the temperature nears 60 degrees, and on those days people feel as though they've been blessed by God. You step outside on your front porch and the sun beams and the birds (whichever ones have yet to figure out which way is south) sing a beautiful melody just for you and your sense of enchantment. The soothing air caresses your skin and purifies your lungs. Your asshole-neighbor (who usually bitches at you about parking your car in the properly marked space) waves to you as he merrily whistles and skips out to his car, en route to a great day at the office. Then, once he's safely pulled away, his wife calls to you and offers you a "blow-job to end all blow-jobs" from herself and her 18-year-old daughter and her 18-year-old best-friend, in celebration of such a beautiful day. Yes. All is right and good in Pennsylvania when it's 60 degrees on a December morning. But then there are the other days - maybe even the very next day - when all hope is lost.
On those days, the sky is so dark and ugly that it seems to have been colored with charcoal and demon-blood. The wind stabs at you like an angry prison-mate with a shiv. The temperature can plummet so rapidly that those sweetly singing birds freeze instantly and fall from the sky all around you. The local citizenry quickly descend into madness and barbarism. It's enough to make you question the existence of a loving God or even any God at all, and inevitably you'll decide there clearly is not one. So, naturally, you call all your relatives and tell them to get fucked. You find a homeless man and beat the living shit out of him for no reason at all and steal his jacket. As a gesture of mercy, you wrap your cat in the stolen-hobo-jacket and throw it into the fireplace to ensure that Mittens' last moments on Earth weren't spent in a miserable, shivering rage of psychotic hypothermia. You pour a glass of scotch and just as you're sitting down to Google "how to tie a noose," there comes a heavy, loud, incessant banging at your door. When you answer, there stands your neighbor, quivering and dejected. He failingly tries to shout at you - something about his wife and daughter and how they were once so wholesome and pure - but the air is too thin and unforgiving so the best he can do is whisper and wheeze and swing his arms half-heartedly due to delirium, confusion, and poor blood flow. Puzzled and annoyed, you offer to tie extra nooses for him and his family and seeing no other way out of this senseless, ass-backwards mind-fuck of a month, he'll graciously accept.
That is a typical December in Pennsylvania: one day you're in the middle of a fucking Disney movie starring Julie Andrews and forest animals and concubines-galore, and the next day you're burning house-cats and organizing communal suicides.
Well, it was a Friday in the beginning of December in PA and I was Googling 'how to tie a noose' when my email client sounded an infuriatingly-pleasant chime that tells me I have another message to delete. So I deleted it. However, before I went back to my noose-tying education I happened upon a 3-month-old email from my buddy Racer that I hadn't read, which can only mean one thing - new music for review! Against my better judgement I put away my selfish desire to end my own life, made a cup of hot cocoa and plugged my laptop into my stereo to get a listen to The Sharks' 4-song EP, Everybody Just Rapes Me. With a title like that, I'd expect it to sound like a bag of cats being repeatedly struck with a separate, larger bag of cats. But nobody would be brave enough to actually put a respectable-looking cover on that album and try to sell it…would they? Let's find out.
The EP starts with "Give It Up," which at first sounds like a lost-cut from the Reality Bites soundtrack. It's a well-written tune with 50's rock and doo-wop sensibility fused with an alternative sound - a catchy melody, a danceable beat, some cleverly-disguised dirty lyrics. At first I was a little turned off by the song, but soon I realized that it was actually quite refreshing to hear this kind of charm in a new rock group. It called to some youthful, romantic side of me with a soft-spot for high-school dances - a side I've decided only exists because I actually failed to attend any dances during my high-school days. (Although at the time I was too afraid that Kevin Bacon might appear from under the bleachers and tell Chris Penn to start chest-bumping me as endless waves of glitter fell from the ceiling. It gives me chills just thinking about it. To this day, being in an auditorium makes me edgy and paranoid, and an unfortunate fact of my life is that I have many other irrational fears which involve Kevin Bacon, but I'll save that for when I review the Bacon Brother's latest cd.)
The second cut is the title track and it pulls out a punk/rockabilly sound that has me dancing around my living room. Word-splicers call it punkabilly, i guess, but whatever. Who's the vocalist? I still don't know, because I can't find a shred of information about this band, anywhere. A google search will turn up plenty of bands with the name "The Sharks," almost none of whom are the band I'm talking about right now. Anyways, I'm listening to this group called The Sharks. This song, "Everybody Just Rapes Me," is groovy. The title is a little melodramatic but, as you can see from my opening paragraphs, I have no qualms with that. The hook: "Here we go / Time to say, fuck them all / Raise a glass, to your body / Won't somebody save me? Everybody just rapes me!" makes me wonder what this song is really about. My best guess tells me that it is about sexual exploration and confusion, and the struggle of young men to find a balance between society's expectations for them to be decent, respectful individuals, but also to be respected as sexual conquerors. The swing/rockabilly style suits as a context for this contemplation, as swing-dancing is something like the more elaborate, energetic grandfather of daggering or the bump & grind. But for all I know this could be a large metaphor for some political statement about the Queen or something. The fact is that they're English, and I rarely if ever understand what an English person is trying to say.
Track 3 begins. "Dirty, horrible Jesus." Whoa, careful when you're tickling my heathen bones. Don't you know it's Christmas? Oh right, this album was released back in September. More well-structured pop-punk-rock. Damn these guys can write a good song without it being too commercial or too cheesy. The vocalist has once-again changed his singing style quite a bit. This time it's more like Paul Westerberg from The Replacements. That comparison doesn't do it justice. Damn it, who does it remind me of? I can't put my finger on it. I have no idea what this song is about. But I don't really care, and that is the best evidence of the catchiness of these songs. I like them even without relating to them in any way. And now I'm hooked. This EP is definitely going on my ipod.
If "Give it Up" was a lost-cut from Reality Bites, then the final track on the EP, "Sinners Song" is more like the movie Singles. It's more an acoustic, organic sounding song. The lead singer has removed the strain and stress from his voice, and he's decided instead to serenade you into the finale with heart-warming lyrics which remind us that drug addicts, burglars, liars, cheaters, smut peddlers, pimps, prostitutes and politicians are people too. It's like the British version of Green Day's "Time of Your Life." I'm sure The Sharks would be pissed to read that comparison, but to hell with them. As far as I know, The Sharks don't actually exist. Prove me wrong…
All in all, I really enjoy this EP. It may not sound like a bag of cats being repeatedly struck by another bag of cats, although I do distinctly remember hearing a few cat-shrills… OH NO! MITTENS! It varies in it's influences, the duo have great song-writing ability and are pretty flexible in their styles. You can check it out (and 2 other EPs) yourself on Bandcamp where it is available via download. The Sharks faithfully use a free or pay-what-you-want method for distributing their work, which I fully support. I highly recommend you give them a few dollars for their work if you enjoy this EP and hope to hear from them again. (It would also be nice if they could pay someone to put together a website for them and provide some SEO implementations.)
Until my next review, waveriders, in which I promise not to mention suicide (more than once). Hope your holidays were merry and bright, and I'll see you in 2012.
Does environment stimulate inspiration or does inspiration dictate the environment?
That’s a question that can be asked over and over regarding Brisbane-based Grand Atlantic’s latest album, Constellations. Whereas their last release How We Survive was an immediately addictive slice of psychedelic-dripped power pop—that quickly climbed into my top-10 release list for the year – Constellations is another acid trip altogether. Recorded in 12 days at the certainly-haunted Seacliff Lunatic Asylum near Dunedin, New Zealand, Constellations seems to be a reflection of that psycho-geographical location. Dark, almost infinitely dark, compared to the light urgency of garage pop in How We Survive,Constellations echoes with hidden spaces, chilling touches, and near phantasmagorical breaths. Spectral forms seem to duck in and out of the shadows, dark spaces hiding in the music, while the hint of distant poltergeists lingers.
Sure, I might be making too much of this . . . but maybe not. Lead singer/songwriter Phil Usher claims the band had quite a few “strange experiences” while there, from voices to strange sounds, to moving microphones. The boys even go so far as to thank “the ghost voices of the past/present residents of Seacliff” on the liner notes.
But it’s more than that.
Dale Cotton’s production is definitely of the moment. Thick and claustrophobic, barely any light seems to escape from the spinning CD. None of that is to say that the album is a downer, it’s not. But it’s a different record from How We Survive, for sure. Now, in fairness, having traveled with the boys, I remember clearly Phil and drummer Mat Von Diehm telling me that they wanted something different with their next album after How We Survive. They wanted something darker, more swimmingly psychedelic, less poppy and more adventurous. So perhaps in this case it was the inspiration dictating the environment.
Whatever the case, the results are spectacular.
Kicking off with the mid-tempo swirling vibe of “Searchlight” it’s clear this isn’t Grand Atlantic’s attempt at a breakthrough pop record. Thick waves of guitar pummel like waves battering the shore. Phil’s voice breaks through in all its rough-hewn glory, as the band breaks it down. Von Diehm keeps it steady until Sean Bower’s bass and Morgan Hahn’s chiming 12-string come racing back in . . . like the wind sweeping through a broken asylum window. The song is haunting, in the truest sense. Dense and thick, even through the moments of stillness. It certainly sets the tone.
And that tone is laid down for “Central Station Blues” the first of several terrific rockers on Constellations. Von Diehm adopts an extra set of arms to lay down the beat with Dale Cotton on congas, while Sean quickly grows a bonus set of fingers, which race up and down the bass in percolating time. Phil unleashes a steady garage terror on top of this foundation, with he and Morgs layering guitar and effects on top with maniacal abandon. And there, amidst the walls of guitars and the impenetrable production, is what Grand Atlantic does so well. Garage rock guitar licks sear through the mix with Phil’s trademarked mastery of melody and hooks. Throughout the song, and album, Phil’s voice –best described as a hoarse whisper—is perfectly in tune with the songs. A soaring, infectious cut.
From there the album goes on, dipping and dropping in mood and tone. “Carved from Stone,” is an assault of brick walls of guitar, barely contained within the framework of the CD. “Constellations” is a gorgeous, mid-tempo, semi-acoustic ballad, laced with touches of post-psychedelic Beatles, The Church, and the Brisbane-rock scene, completed with hypnotic guitar work courtesy of Morgs.
One of the things that separates Constellations from How We Survive is the immediacy of the listen. How We Survive sucked me in like a pornstar giving a $2 blow job. Immediate and unforgiving. Once in its grasp, there was no way for me to escape. Constellations is different. A slower lover, it requires time and repeated love-making sessions to really appreciate it’s beauty. Songs like “Mountains Too Steep,” lack the urgent grab of a How We Survive cut like “Used to be the Sensitive Type.” But still . . . it’s all there, it just takes longer to unfold. And in the end, that might make it a more satisfying lover.
None of that is to say that there aren’t killer urgent tracks on Constellations. There are. The already mention “Central Station Blues” is joined by blow-my-mind rockers like “Poison to the Vine,” “Fresh Ideas In Home Security,” and one of my favorites on the album, “No Man’s Land,” with its ghostly, neo-sitar and haunting voices intro.
With its density of craft, Constellations may not be the album that Grand Atlantic needed to make to burst themselves to the top of the scene, but I get the feeling it’s an album that band needed to make for themselves-- to grow and mature. A work of cerebral intensity, Constellations seems to be a record that Grand Atlantic needed to free from their souls, like a snake sheds its skin, freeing themselves from old confines so they could break out into the new.
With that thought, Constellations is a stunning success. A mind-altering trip of neo-psychedelia that never loses sight of its pop roots. I can only imagine that when the band goes back to the studio and fuses what they’ve done with these last two releases, we’ll have a masterpiece for the ages.
The best show I have seen this year took place at the Echoplex in Los Angeles, California (Silver Lake and Echo Park area). For those not familiar with The Echo and Echoplex, you are missing out. Both music clubs predominantly highlight great independent bands and showcase amazing artists you need to know. Back on May 10 I saw a spectacular music bill featuring Andrew W.K., hardcore punk band Trash Talk and surf rock/indie band Wavves. Throughout the night all the music acts commented what a “bizarre,” “unique” and “cool” lineup was performing. I couldn’t agree more.
The event was put on by Check Yo Ponytail 2, which describes itself as presenting an “open-genre, open-format approach to booking shows” and Check Yo Ponytail 2 certainly creates a unique atmosphere for audiences attending its shows. People are exposed to bands they would never normally see because they “aren’t their type of music” and as this show proved, even I became a fan of a music genre I’m not fond of (hardcore punk).
Thanks to Twitter I heard about this awesome event and bought my ticket immediately. As the date grew closer I soon realized it was the week during my last finals, but it didn’t matter. I was finally going to see Andrew W. K. and Wavves. I had no idea who any of the other artists were, but I was in for a real treat. The opening act was awful trying to imitate Blink 182-like stage antics before Trash Talk came on and truly kickstarted the show. I am not a fan of hardcore punk music, but HOLY $#!& they were amazing. Needless to say I ducked and dodged lots of stage diving and moshing, but still ended up getting kicked in the head twice during their set. Before the night was over I received only four kicks in the head and still managed to have a good time thanks to the great performances by Trash Talk, Wavves and Andrew W. K. despite going a little deaf during the night.
After seeing Wavves live I became an even bigger fan and think their album King of the Beach, their third album, is a great place to start.. The lineup of Wavves for King of the Beach was composed of Nathan Williams (lead singer, guitarist and keyboards), Stephen Pope (bass) and Billy Hayes (drums). Since the album, Billy Hayes has been replaced by Jacob Cooper on drums. Stephen Pope and Billy Hayes were part of the backing band for the late and underrated Jay Reatard.
Additionally, Nathan Williams played vibraphone, drum machine, programming and additional percussion on King of the Beach. One of the great things about Wavves is they combine noise-rock, indie rock, lo-fi, pop punk and experimental rock to create a superb, sophisticated, yet simple surf rock sound all their own. If the Beach Boys, 1980s garage rock and noise pop were smashed together to create a band then that band would be Wavves.
King of the Beach kicks of with the titular song as the band begins a journey of pursuing an endless summer in a colorful, charismatic and creative concoction immediately delivered to you. “King of the Beach” is absolutely my favorite song off this album. The simple four chords utilized create a simple and perfect power-pop song with a sweet bassline and guitar hook over dominating drums accompanied by Williams’ wonderful voice.
The song starts off with “Let the sun burn my eyes/Let it burn my back/At the beach/In my dreams/But you still/You're never gonna stop me.” Without a doubt, “King of the Beach,” both the song and album, will be Wavves’ charming calling card. If there was more music like this being made by mainstream record companies then the “music business” would not be failing.
“Super Soaker” succeeds in delivering a hypnotizing and heated second song with lyrics such as “She won't listen/ My head's numb/ And I can't hear her/ Any clearer.” Whether it’s the noise-pop or the punk attitude, Wavves knows how to combine different musical elements and throw a knockout punch with each of their songs.
Laughter is a sweet sound serenading your senses that instantly makes you want to smile. “Idiot” starts out with laughter…“Laugh, I bet you laugh/ I bet you laugh right behind my back/ I won't ever die/ I'll go surfing in my mind.” Sure one can apologize for laughing, but this song is no joke and should be taken seriously.
Although at first listen “When Will You Come” seems out of place, the child-like charm of a nursery rhyme seems right up Wavves’ alley. No matter how loud and obnoxious or sweet and softly, Wavves delivers tremendous track after track.
There are very few times when I’m extremely jealous of a writer, but sometimes you read certain words and are completely blown away with how poignant they are. “Post Acid” is a perfect example. Williams’ echoes Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain angst with the genius opening lyrics “Misery/Will you comfort me? /In my time of need/Would you understand?” As the song says, “I’m just havin fun” and I couldn’t agree more. “King of the Beach” and “Post Acid” are easily the two top songs on this entire album. Depending on what day you ask me, I go back and forth between the two.
“Take on The World” is an awesome surfing song, the warped synth solidifies “Baseball Cards,” the infectious “Convertible Balloon” and “Green Eyes” are all good, but the album picks up again with “Mickey Mouse.” The variety showcased on this album is phenomenal. “Mickey Mouse” has killer lyrics like “Everything in the back of my brain/ Told me that I would be sick/ When I’m out there/ I never wanna leave home” and is extremely charming like a much more disturbed Beach Boys. Unfortunately, due to pressure from the Disney company the song is now very difficult to hear even though you can find fan-made YouTube clips. I strongly recommend you checking them all out!
My last song that I recommend is “Linus Spaceland,” which kicks off with a sweet opening bassline and is a perfect song showcasing Wavves’ garage rock/ noise pop/ surf rock sound. If you enjoy bands like Best Coast, Jay Reatard, Smith Westerns and No Age, then they are definitely up your alley. Wavves’ King of the Beach has that snarky punk attitude that made the early Green Day albums so great. It wouldn’t surprise me if people look back and consider King of the Beach an iconic, influential indie album.
Bubbling up from the underground. Pulsating from the heartbeat of the punk clubs and rock stages. Surging from the heart of middle America. A return to true, earnest rock and roll. Maybe it's a reaction against the overly-produced drivel that fills the airwaves. Maybe it's a statement about getting back to our roots, to what's core and meaningful. Shit, maybe it's all in my mind. All I know is that the Ripple Office has been inundated recently with a barrage of quality, back-to-the-roots of rock and roll albums from a diverse cross-section of bands. And I for one, couldn't be happier. They all do it in their own unique way, and they all kick my ass.
So let's get to them.
Tin Horn Prayer - Get Busy Dying
Featuring ex-members of such punky bands as The Blackout Pact, Only Thunder, Ghost Buffalo, Love Me Destroyer, and Pinhead Circus, Tin Horn Prayer come out of the speakers like a methamphetamine-fueled Tom Waits with a major chip on his shoulder and a suicide complex. Man, does this one kick me upside down of Tuesday! Major roots Americana here, including banjo, mandolin, and accordion thrown into the mix with the (mostly acoustic) guitars, bass, and drums. These guys go way outta their way to prove that punk is a state of mind, not a function of electricity. "Better Living," just may be one of my favorite lead-off tracks I've heard all year. Yeah, we got that mandolin kicking us off in all it's spartan beauty, bass and drums bubble underneath before the whole band launches into just a monster of an acousti-folk punk song. One helluva verse melody and just a choral hook that can't help but capture you like a hangman's noose. I mean one for the ages. Toss in some ridden-hard-and-hung-up-wet vocals and I'm in roots-punk heaven. When I say weathered, I don't mean these vocals are whiskey-aged, I mean they're perfectly leather-cracked, barely escaping from the vocal chords. This song saunters and rocks and funks and grooves, and it's all punk, baby.
"Crime Scene Cleanup Team," may be just about the most clever suicide note ever placed to music. Rather than scrawling a note to those who've wronged him, the author composes his final lament as an apology to the crime scene cleanup team who're gonna have to clean up his house after he blows his brains into a "red Picasso painting on the walls." Take lyrics like that and drop them over a seriously rockin' uptempo, guitar and banjo raver and you'll get a good feeling where these guys come from. Earnest? Hell, yes. They're like an unplugged Dropkick Murphys, or a head-on collision between Son Volt and the Street Dogs. Either way, I can't stop listening.
Only Thieves - Heartless Romantics
Another beer-soaked belch of churning earnest rock and roll, this time layered with a slacker sensibility and a hint of full-on Replacements instability. Cracking guitar work, layered upon layers bring an old school post-punk indy vibe to this cascading wall of sound. This is pure rawk and roll, layered with years of grit and road dust. Hearts are bared fully on their sleeves, and those sleeves dripping with sweat, whiskey, and a touch of exasperated blood.
Back in the day, we had a band called The Call. Oh yeah. Talk about earnest rock, with Michael Been belting it out as if his soul's salvation depended on it. Only Thieves mine a similar roots-angst vibe, with their chiming guitar assault, spraying punk spit, and pleadingly honest lyrics and vocals. Take a song like "Flood Lights" and I can almost hear Micheal Been's spirit being channeled in righteous indignation (RIP Michael. You left us too soon). That's not to say Only Thieves are revisionist, they certainly aren't. Just take that Call template, inject it full of Replacements rawness, some Superdrag and Lucero punk and indy savvy, and coat that whole thing with the leftover dust from an Uncle Tupelo concert and you'll get the feeling. "All Sad Young Men," masterfully mixes big indy guitars with exploding percussion, pop smarts and punk energy. "Discoveries" does the same with massive tsunami walls of churning guitars and zealot vocals. Springsteen gone punk. I like it.
The White Soots - S/T
A do-it-yourself effort that literally reached out through the speakers with gripping hands of fuzzed guitars, grabbed my ears in their icy death-grip and pulled me right back through the circuitry into their insanely hip world of retro-fuzz. stoner-fied, acid-garage mania. A three-piece of brothers Kyle Byrum on guitars and vocals, Kraig Byrum on drums, along with Karl Benge on bass, The White Soots first came to my attention from all the love the fine gents at The Soda Shop have showered on them over the months. And let me tell you, the Soda Shop boys were right. The lava lamp has gone and completed exploded all over these guys.
'60's speed-cranked, retro garage fuzz dominates this blissfully deranged psychedelic haze of pop concoctions. Kyle lets loose hallucination-inducing rivers of guitar solos (as on "If I Go") that are enough to cause cosmic waves to collide in time warped tunnels of psych madness. The Black Keys are here. The White Stripes wish they could be. But don't let all this talk of garage-psych madness put you off, the boys channel enough retro-R&B into their songwriting menagerie to bust out numbers like "Don't Shoot" and "You're Evil," or the pure groovy, gotta-bust-out-my-bell-bottoms hipster-vibe of "Watch the Horizon." Monster-extended, JPT Scare Band-worthy jams like the 11 minute "Give Me Back My Land," and it's fuzz, senses-shattering guitar assault sit comfortably right next to 2 minute plus primal-garage pop stompers like "Where Did You Go." No matter how you slice it, you can't lose.
Thee Nosebleeds - S/T
Now that The White Soots dropped us off in the garage, we may as well stay there, crawling way to the back underneath the rusting piles of moth-holed radiators, oil-stained rags, and sludge-crusted carburetors. Somewhere back there, behind the moldy stack of semen-stained porn magazines you'll find Thee Nosebleeds, doing their damndest to not impress anyone.
Guitars whiz by like drive-by shootings. Drums dissolve into the mix like acid melting through '70's worn vinyl. There's a bass there . . . somewhere, or so I'm told. Probably hiding behind the draino-ate-my-trachea vocals. And amongst all this chaos, you'll find a freaking gem of cocaine-garage punk like "South Street Shooting Spree," or the bathtub-brewed meth speed punk fest of "As Fast as You Can." These guys are so grizzled they eat razor blades for breakfast and spit out metal links that they somehow chain together into remarkably catchy songs like the chemical-freak meets The Ramones blitz of "Kill Kill Rock N Roll/Miss West Philly USA." "Pigfoot's Revenge," works a belligerent blues riff into the mix, while "Motormouth" is simply 440 horse power garage gun metal punk at it's finest.
I couldn't be happier that this album didn't come as a "scratch and sniff" cause there just ain't no part of me that want's to know what these guys smell like. But listening's just fine.
Tsurumi Records just knows how to do things right. Spinning on gorgeous marbleized grey and white vinyl right now, is the latest long player from Tsurumi’s Second Academy with main man Eric Balaban and his latest masterpiece of sophistico-garage punk, Bohemian Grove. But before we get to the music (which will make me quickly forget everything else I want to say) let’s get back to Tsurumi. In a very short period of time, the good folk of Tsurumi have solidified their vision of how to unleash quality music and product onto the music loving world. Plying their Japan-meets-America-via-Seattle-Silk-Road of inspired primal-punkish rock, Tsurumi may only have 4 releases under their belts, but what releases they are. Between Eric Balaban’s Beautiful Mothers or Second Academy, or the Japanese art-punk of Golden, each release is done right. In addition to the gorgeous platter hypnotizing me on the turntable right now, the album comes with a quality pressed cover, a way-cool glossy insert, a glossy poster, and forget the download code, these cats include the entire CD in the package. How’s that for doing it right?
Ok, so enough about them, let’s get to the music, shall we? I’ve already expressed my man-love for Eric’s prior work with the Beautiful Mothers and the first, rather stripped down, Second Academy record. Truth be told, however, I really didn’t know what to expect with this new release. Joined by Brent Powell on bass, and Troy Lund/and Rob Wheeler on drums, I didn’t know if Eric could continue to captivate me. Whether his Replacements-stripped garage-punk could continue to elevate itself to new heights. To grow . . . to expand.
Oh, simple-minded me.
If anything, Bohemian Grove not only builds upon what the lads created with the first album, it represents a quantum leap in maturity, songwriting, playing, production and just about any other aspect of an album you can think of. Simply put, this is one fantastic record. If you’re a fan of acoustic-laced, powerpop fueled, amphetamine garage-based rock, (think The Replacements,The Violent Femmes, early Who) then you owe it to yourself . . . nay, you owe it to mankind to check this album out.
I understand that the album is named Bohemian Grove after the title track, but damn if I don’t want to constantly write Bohemian GROOVE because that's what this album does. It grooves. It sways, it rumbles and rocks with a constant, head-nodding, toe-tapping groove of solid rhythm, killer melodies, perfect-scratchy riffs, and damn fine songwriting. Expect a spot on my Top 10 of 2011 for this one.
Right from the start, Bohemian Grove captured my attention. The title track trods out of the speakers with an ominous weight, sounding like some meaty 1960’s beat-cool, retro-groovy punk rocker. The bass and drums are just monstrous here. I keep getting this image of some darkened ‘60’s Batman theme going on here, as if the Dark Knight existed back then taking on the Joker. Way cool. Way, way cool. Eric’s voice is inspired, harmony vocals bringing everything to the front. Fuzz guitar wails through the mix as that damn fine GROOVE just tears the song to pieces. Infinitely cool.
For this album, Eric upped the production quite a bit over the really stripped first Second Academy record. That’s not to say this album is glossy, it’s not. But it is full and warm. A rich sound that really compliments the songs, fills them out. It works.
“Like the Rich,” is a Jonathan Richman or Paul Westerberg love song classic. Sung with total honestly, yet tongue in cheek at the same time, Eric extols the virtues of throwing off the drapery of the “poor artist” and getting rich. “She says I only want to get by/I say Fuck That!/I wanna get a rock for my baby/I wanna get a stick for my baby/I wanna get a knife for my lady/I wana get a house for my baby/and have a good time/like the rich do.” All played over a slicing acoustic guitar riff and and some killer electric guitar searing flourishes. Again, the GROOVE is there. Have I said yet that this album grooves?
“Lullaby for the Divorced” ups the ante with it’s big-time retro, surf meets garage riffage and swing. Totally retro but current. The kids are going crazy at the hop or the Go-Go to this song. Wild bikini’s are doing the swim, guys are acting cool, but everyone is losing themselves in the abandon of the groove. Oh yes, there’s that word again.
The final cut on side 1, “Perfectly Wrong,” is quite simply one of the best songs that the early Who never played, but wrote with Paul Westerburg and played with the help of the Femmes. Big guitars fly in Townsend-ian whirling waves, and if that isn’t a melody that should have dominated the airwaves in the mid ‘60’s, then I’ve never heard one. But listen closely to this one and “Lullaby” before it and you’ll see that these aren’t retro classics, they’re fully modern. Pete Townsend never wrote about getting drunk in the afternoon or how her avoiding his phone calls was perfectly wrong. Or the simply purity of allowing two people to divorce because nothing good can ever come from bad love. It all just shows how much Eric has grown as a songwriter.
So, if I was a fan of the first Second Academy album (and the rougher Beautiful Mothers), with Bohemian Grove, Eric has made a true believer out of me. With any righteous divination, Eric will find his place in the revered ranks of gritty but pretty songwriters, like Westerburg or Richman (or Townsend, for that matter).
In a world where every square inch of my office is covered with vinyl, and I measure an album's worth by whether or not it deserves to occupy my valuable shelf space, this is an album, I’m proud to have in my collection.
Remedy. I just love the sound of that word. It’s so definitive. Something is wrong. It will be fixed. It will be corrected. It will be remedied.
I don’t watch the Grammys (which pretty much sums up my opinions of them) but I did see the musical debacle, assault-to-our-senses, that some people called the Super Bowl Half-time Show. And I did hear people actually talking post-Grammy about whether Justin Bieber was robbed not winning the Best New Artist Award. Two events in a compressed period of time that could make you lose complete faith in the music industry. Lose faith that there are still folks out there busting it out for the sheer love of music and breaking the shit out of a bunch of guitar strings. It’s even enough to make me lose faith in whether or not there is a God -- for if there is, he certainly wouldn’t be listening to crap like that.
It’s time for a remedy.
Fast and furious, raw and ragged, dangerous and capable of leading small children way astray of societal conventions. That’s what rock and roll was way back when. And just as important, if certain snotty-nosed, chemical-addled, offends-to-society have their way, it’s what rock and roll will become again.
Thank God.
Ojm – Volcano
Despite their 4 previous albums, I’d never heard of Italy’s Ojm before Matt from PoisonTree Records dropped this into my lap. Hitting me as if I’d just opened a letter from the Unibomber, Ojm exploded out of my speakers in a fuzzed out fury of retro-stonified riff mongering. I mean huge. What gets me the most about these cats is that they don’t really follow one mainline path towards their rock and roll fury. Sure we got some nicely fuzzy stoner riffs, but there’s also a big chunk of adrenalinized garage attack going on here, some neo-epic psychedelic pastiche, a saliva-filled mouth of punk spittle, and even a good eye towards retro pop. In other words we got a tear-down-the-rules blitz of real rock rowdiness.
With production by Dave Catching (Eagles of Death Metal, Queens of the Stone Age), you can get a pretty fair idea of what awaits. Kicking off with the good-natured fuzz-meets-surf instrumental assault of “Welcome”, Ojm treat each track here as if it was their own personal canvass on which to paint their masterpiece. And believe me, when they attack that canvas they use a big, fat black marking pen, no tentative pencil or blue line drawings here. “Venus God” just rocks. Simply. I dig the vocals too; kinda spikey and throaty while still being smooth. Give me texture. Swath the whole thing in monster-riffs and an eardrum splattering amount of fuzz and I’m more than happy. “Rainbow,” brings on an irresistibly warped bong-full of hazy riffing and acrid smoke, all drifting within a kick-ass melody. But wait, there’s more! Drop in the 7-minute epic psychedelic excursion, “Oceans Heart,” the totally accessible, near pop-perfect strains of “I’ll Be Long,”, the retro-punk stomp “Disorder,” and the two-ton heaviness of “Cocksucker” and we got us that finished master stoner piece-de-resistance.
Enough to make you forget Justin Bieber was ever born. Give it a shot.
Ride the Sun – S/T EP
Riding a stoner-fied, desert-dry riff with the ferocity of a lone cowboy taming a bucking bronco, Ride the Sun burst across the arid horizon in flaming, glowing casts of red and gold. This is gritty, grizzled stoner fuzz of the highest order. Yep, all the biggies are here, from Sabbath to Kyuss to Fu Manchu. I even hear a little love for Judas Priest in the flourishes of their riffs. Big, mean, and a damn enough good time to keep the men from bathing for months.
I particularly love the vocals here; rough and raw, so far down in the throat you can almost hear a little stomach lining, but smooth enough to carry the damn fine melodies. To me, the vocals sound a bit like the rougher vocals of BTO if the singer’d been gargling with a leftover jug of liquid plummer. (Speaking of BTO, I don’t think that band gets near enough credit, they’re way more stoner heavy than you might think, just give one listen to Not Fragile). But I digress. We’re talking about Ride the Sun here, and there’s lots to say.
“Evil Reasons,” rollicks and gallops across the audio waves with hyped up passion, terminal fuzz and a monolithic bottom end. “Livin’ Wrong” is just mean and heavy. When the boys lock onto a riff they ride that baby, ride it hard and dry. This is chest-beating, suburb-scaring riff-tense stoner, baby. Dig the harmony dual lead vocals on this one. Man, it’s so dirty you can almost smell the desert sand still lingering to the unwashed skin.Solos burst out in appropriate shades of fuzz, like an amp run through a garbage disposal.
I think “Compadre” is my favorite cut here, but that’s picking straws blindly out of the stack just for the sake of picking. Each track here is megalithic heavy, fuzzy, and all kinds of acrid smoke hazy. For riff mad stone heads, this one shouldn’t be missed.
The Heat Tape – Raccoon Valley Recordings
So raw, so primal, The Heat Tape is positively primitive. This is caveman-hit-guitar-and-smash-drums, lo-fi, lost-way-in-the-back-of the-garage, garage rock. Ok, I lied. It’s not garage rock. The CD is named after the trailer park where these “gents” live and conduct all their business. So we need a new genre here. Trailer Park Rock. No pretense. No gloss, or gleam, or hope of glory. This is near prehistoric distorto-punk with a hankering for a catchy hook and a turn of a phrase.
With no song clocking in at even 3 minutes (the average time looks to be about 2 minutes flat) The Heat Tape rage out of Makanda, Illinois singing songs of such import as “Skin” (a love song about McDonalds breakfast), “21st Century Turd” (about being a piece of shit), and “Feel No Good” (which is about being a hungover piece of shit.) Don’t go looking for Stephen Hawkins expanded theories of the physics of Black Holes here. Just pop open a twelve-pack, hit something hard, and play this quagmire of lo-fi ditties. For fans of Jay Retard, The Marked Men, and the Thermals. Yep, that should do it.
Fuck Knights – The Recorded by Gary Burger from The Monks EP
Perhaps the only thing that could make The Heat Tape sound clean and refined is another offering of demento-destructo garage surf punk from the Fuck Knights. You’ll notice that the CD is titled the “Recorded by Gary Burger . . . EP” not the “produced by Gary Burger” CD. You see, that would require there actually being some production on this baby rather than a cacophony of frantic, speaker rattling, oil can rock. But then that wouldn’t be the Fuck Knights, and I wouldn’t enjoy it near as much as this one.
Simply put, the Fuck Knights can fuck the hell out of just about any other lo-fi outfit who dares step into their garage. Guitars and speakers are set on terminal fuzz mode, Bass is played through a 1967 rusty muffler, and the drummer gave up on a drum kit years ago, instead assembling a litany of acid-eaten barrels to pound on. And he does, Lord he does.
Despite all the overblown analogies in the previous paragraphs, at their simplest, the Fuck Knights are sheer brilliant, massively distorted and psychotically warped garage punk of the frenzied and frantic variety. Yet hidden within the vague psychobilly and surf influences, and around the back of the destructo-wall of fuzz and noise, are some catchy as hell melodies and some serious songwriting smarts. Each song blasts by before you’ve even had a chance to blow your nose, but in that time, the Fuck Knights have unleashed more melodies, dazzling fuzz solos, and near-manic energy than could be found in that entire 30 minute embarrassment of a Super Bowl Halftime Show.
You want your rock loud and raw, dangerous and illegal in several states? Then the Fuck Knights are your band. They may never get a chance to take the stage at the Grammys, but they just may be the saviors of rock and roll.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I'm jaded, but having been doing this Ripple thing for the better part of three years, I've heard a lot of music come through the Ripple doors. And while a good chunk of that music's been pretty good, not much of it has been surprising. Most of it just fits nicely into the preconceived notions of genre and category. That was until the Green Monkey Anthology came through my door. To put it bluntly, I expected one thing and got another thing entirely.
And what I got was good. Very good. Garage, psych, powerpop. Keen original post punk pop the likes of which went right to my happy zone.
With that, it was only a matter of time before we had to get Tom Dyer, the main monkey, to stop by the Ripple office, plop on down on the red leather couch and spill the beans on all things green and monkey.
You detail the entire history of Green Monkey Records in the insert of your excellent CD anthology, but for our readers, let's refresh. How did you get started running an independent record label?
Well, traditionally there are two main ways people start labels. Either as business to make some dough off artists or as artists to get their skwak out. Occasionally there is something in between. For me it was definitely case #2. I was a late bloomer. Though always a music lover and a singer of sorts, I didn’t start playing guitar until I was 25. Had an art/punk band in Seattle around 1980 that was pretty cool in a tortured sort of way that really didn’t get too far – couple demos –but enough to convince me I needed recording gear. Did a bunch of one-man-band (me) recording and started recording my friends’ bands. By ’83 I had enough stuff of my own and other peoples’ that wasn’t getting put out anywhere I decided to start putting it out. Green Monkey was born and the next level of personal entertainment was up and running.
What motivated you? Did you tap into a particular local scene or were you aiming to capture a sound?
We were mostly limited to the sound we could get by the kind of gear that we used and the dinky studio space I had. That said, there was and is now an esthetic to my work. I have always had a greater leaning toward dissonance than your average American. When we were kids my brother bough Beatles and I bought Stones. When I was 17-18 it was all about Trout Mask Replica (drove my mom nuts). Later I was more interested in Ornette and Coltrane than Miles (Miles is great!), way more interested in Harry Partch and Stockhausen than Beethoven (z-z-z-z) and at one point I definitely wanted John Lee Hooker to be my personal savior. He was a guitar genius and had an even cooler voice than Johnny Cash.
Back in the 80’s when I had a little 8-track studio, I mostly got my clients word-of-mouth. Some of them like The Hitmen or the Fallouts became GMR artists for a while. Some folks I sought out like the Green Pajamas (after I bought their cassette) or The Life (got told about ‘em). Some would send me stuff like Glass Penguins that I liked and we would try to get something done on the cheap. I think the music we put out at that point was fairly inconsistent stylistically. It was just whatever was around that I liked.
I will say that over time there is a certain sound to my work that moves beyond the gear. It has something to do with intent and will.
Which was your first release?
GM001 Local Product (various artists) and GM002 Tom Dyer – Truth or Consequences were released simultaneously in ‘83, in a no doubt calculated manner to seem more important than we actually were. Both were totally recorded on Tascam 2340 4 track reel to reel with a little 6 channel Tapco board, a spring reverb, an analog delay and crappy mikes. We were totally living. We could overdub for crissakes! Kids in the Garage Band world have no way to understand how totally fucking cool that was to be able to do at that point. Put ‘em out on cassette – 150 copies each – off to the big time.
Who's been your biggest selling artist to date?
The Green Pajamas by a mile. Book of Hours by the PJs is the top seller at around 5 thousand copies worldwide. It was released in the US, Germany, Greece and Australia – each version with different tracks. I just reissued it on CD after 24 years with all the tracks from every version, plus an unreleased track. Made me very happy. Still work with Jeff Kelly (PJ #1). I think he is doing brilliant stuff at the present.
There's so much to learn about running a label, share with us some of the lessons you've learned along the way.
Well, lesson one is it was always hard to get paid and still is. I became pretty conscious of cash flow back when as it really became difficult to keep funding the next project. I think it is a lot easier to get your music out to an audience in the internet age, but don’t kid yourself – it’s still work. As Andy Warhol said, it’s all about work. I like to work. I like to do things that I think have artistic merit. I think the trick is to know what you want to do and not get too sidetracked by all the silly extra stuff that will suck up all your time.
What's been your label's high point? Low point?
Two high points, one low point. First hight point, 1987 when we did the Green Pajamas - Book of Hours and The Life - Alone. It felt like we were in the verge of something in regards to commercial success. Wasn’t able to get it to go to the next step, which led to the low point, ’91 or so. It had become a chore. At that point I had put so much time and energy into it with diminishing returns, I was a dad, needed to back off, make a living and take care of life. Had to let it go.
Second highlight is now. I am at a place in my life I can do this at a level that I find satisfying. I am putting out my music and other peoples’ music I like. I don’t really care if somebody thinks it is crap or not, it is just what I am doing and I will let it get to whatever level it can get to.
What's inspired you to jump back into the ring and relaunch the label?
In the period after the initial output, I went back to school, got my bachelors, masters and doctorate while working full-time and raising kids. I never stopped recording (thus Songs From Academia, Vols. 1 & 2), but it was a lot smaller part of my life. Have my doctorate, have a job, kids are out of the house. Time to rock. Beside my gig as president of a small college, this is mostly what I do with my time nowadays.
The music industry has changed significantly since the pre-grunge days? What changes have you seen and how are you approaching dealing with this changes?
Obviously the biggest change is the internet. It used to be that record companies were the filter to decide what was “good music” – people that were too crummy couldn’t make records. That started changing with the whole DIY thing in the 80’s – then the internet blew it up. Record labels don’t matter anymore. Anybody can get their music in front of the world. The filters used to be at the front – can you get stuff released – now they are at the end – how do you differentiate yourself from the 2 million crummy bands on MySpace. It is about reviews, PR, social networking and as always playing live, which by the way, I rarely do.
What changes do you see ahead for the music industry?
Well, the death of plastic seems pretty inevitable. There is still a shrinking market for CDs and vinyl, but your average person is pretty happy with their iPod and that seems irreversible.
On a more musical note, I see no more significant changes in popular music. Ever.
In the 20th century music changed as the technology to make it changed. First, there was the ability to record music. Changed everything, Then the ability to overdub made it possible to record music you could not perform live. Then the electric guitar changed everything again, making sounds that were previously impossible to make. Analog synthesis created the last batch of new timbres that popular music would require. Digital sampling was the final piece, as the hip hop guys brought John Cage’s notion that all sounds have musical validity to the mainstream.
In the past technological change in making sounds drove new music. I do not think there are any significant departures left on the kind of sounds that can be made. We can make them all.
I think what you have going forward is simply differing combinations of styles – personalization. Jazz is a great example. It runs a progressive course from New Orleans Jazz in the early century and by the end of the 60’s it has hit avant garde squawking and fusion. Sweet to scratchy – all been done. Everybody in jazz now works somewhere within that range. No place new left to go.
By the way, I hope I am completely wrong about this.
What's the biggest challenge facing you today as an independent label?
Just finding time to get things done. I’m pretty much a 1 ½ person operation. If I had greater ambitions there would be larger challenges, but at this point I am pretty happy to put things out at small but consistent level and let thing go where they go.
Are you working now primarily with your old catalog of artists? Will you be looking for new artists?
My plan is to do a few things.
First, put out my own TD music. I’ve mostly got the old stuff out that I want out, so from here on it will be pretty much new. Second, is to re-release old catalog, just cuz I think it is great stuff that should be heard. Third is to put out new music from some old GMR folks, mostly Jeff Kelly/Green Pajamas, but we’ll see. Fourth is to put out completely new stuff by people that I’ve never done anything with. I’ve got a new band, Sigourney Reverb, that I like and may do some stuff with.
As time goes on I expect I will shift out of old stuff entirely. It will be all done. Probably take a few years though.
Are you a club rat, constantly searching live venues for cool acts?
Nope. Never was, always was a record guy. If I go out and see a band, it is very deliberate; I know about them from hearing something and check it out.
What are you looking for now?
The ecstatic experience. Music that makes me feel. Someone that can replace John Lee Hooker as my personal savior.
What would you like to see happen for the future of the music industry and your label in particular?
Well, I am of course perfectly fine with becoming an international superstar and having Jeff Kelly be bigger than Lady Gaga.
As for the industry, I think the decentralization of popular music that is ongoing is an unstoppable trend. I think digital music is here to stay, but I think due to increase storage crappy MP3s will go away.
Any final words for our waveriders?
Buy all our stuff. It’s better than everybody else’s.
I was all set not to like the Naked Heroes. A male/female, guitar/drum duo from the Greenpoint section of Brooklyn reminded me a little bit too much of my least favorite bands of the past decade, but I’m pleased to admit I was wrong. Their debut album 99 Diamond is loud, dirty, fun rock & roll with no unpleasant hipster aftertaste. I think the first thing that won me over is the guitarist/singer’s name – George Michael Jackson. No one in their right mind would pick that stage name. Drummer Merica Lee has a pretty cool name, too, but I’m not sure if it’s an alias or not
Naked Heroes play an enthusiastic mix of ZZ Top boogie and Cramps trashiness. The title track opens the album with a Bo Diddley groove and a big call & response chorus that will be stuck in your head for a long time whether you like it or not. “Black Dress” is a total “La Grange” rip off but that’s never a problem for me. I’m sure these guys like John Lee Hooker just as much as Billy Gibbons does. George Michael Jackson’s guitar tone is very dirty with some nice reverb underneath to help fill out the sound. As a singer he sounds kinda like Molly Hatchet’s Danny Joe Brown lifting up huge pieces of farm equipment. Merica Lee pounds out a heavy beat that keeps the groove swinging and moving forward.
Slow burner “Double Chin” is like the best parts of Led Zep’s “How Many More Times” boiled down into 3 and a half minutes. Other stand outs are the uptempo jams “Sheila,” “Opposable Thumb” and “Sophisticated Meat Machine” (excellent title). To keep things interesting they throw in some other slow ones like “The Goonhand” and “Feel Me Slide.” The CD-only bonus track “Under The Hood” sounds almost like The Sonics covering UFO’s “Natural Thing.”
The album is short, clocking in around half an hour, which is a good thing. They do a good job of filling out the sound as a 2 piece but if it went on any longer, monotony might set in. Personally I’d love to hear what they’d sound like with a bass player or maybe a 2nd guitarist doing the Bryan Gregory/Kid Congo fuzzed out Cramps thing, but for now I can hang with this. So can you.
We already professed our undying love for the fuzzed out, bubbling psychedelic pop created by Baby Woodrose, so we were thrilled to learn that lots of previously hard to find stuff is being made available again from Bad Afro Records.
Baby Woodrose - Money For Soul LP (AFROLP018)
On Money For SoulBaby Woodrose created a unique sound that took them to the 60's and back leaving the music being influenced by many shades of rock'n'roll and psych but played with heartfelt punk attitude. Baby Woodrose received quite a lot of attention outside Denmark with their self-released debut album "Blows Your Mind" from 2001. In reality a one-man operation by Lorenzo Woodrose who wrote the songs, played all the instruments, produced the record and put it out on his own Pan Records. Baby Woodrose later became a real band and Money For Soul reflected that. The album was mixed and mastered by Jürgen Hendlmeier and contained their biggest hit so far;” Everything's Gonna Be Alright”. Sleeve made by Malleus. Originally released in 2003 in 2000 copies on black vinyl. New print limited to 500 copies on red vinyl.
Baby Woodrose – Chasing Rainbows LP (AFROLP035)
Chasing Rainbows was the sound of a band with more musical guts than on previous albums. Clearly inspired by the Baby Woodrose side-project Dragontears, Baby Woodrose expanded their sound and produced an album that is very different from earlier efforts. Not only because of the use of instruments like cello, lap-steel, flute and tablas. But also because Chasing Rainbows was both their most poppy and commercial release AND their most experimental and druggy album so far. Originally released in 2007 in 1500 copies on black vinyl. New press limited to 500 copies on red vinyl.
Baby Woodrose – Blows Your Mind CD (AFROCD020)
The Baby Woodrose debut album is temporarily out of print on CD but a new new print is on its way!
If you're a fan of psych pop, you won't go wrong checking any of these out.
Blissed out, T-Rex inspired, psychedelic pop. That's what The Dolly Rocker Movement brings to the table and that's what caught us by the Ripple ears and spun us around like a heady case of vertigo. Joining us today on the red leather interview couch is head Dolly, Daniel Darling to open up our minds to what makes The Dolly Rocker Movement tick.
When I was a kid, growing up in a house with Cat Stevens, Neil Diamond, and Simon and Garfunkel, the first time I ever heard Kiss's "Detroit Rock City," it was a moment of musical epiphany. It was just so vicious, aggressive and mean. It changed the way I listened to music. I've had a few minor epiphany's since then, when you come across a band that just brings something new and revolutionary to your ears.
What have been your musical epiphany moments?
When I was seven or eight my brother and I found some old cassettes in the family house and I remember we had a Best of The Sweet tape. I played that tape till it finally snapped. It was the wildest thing i had ever heard. I was rocking so hard to "Hellraiser" I fell off my bed and broke my collar bone. The next phase was probably when the whole grunge thing came along. Finally there was new music that divided a generation. Most parents hated that shit. Funny cause now I actually dislike allot of that nineties rock too. But it was fun at the time. Then came the sixties obsession. It seemed to go hand in hand with experimentation on all levels. While the jocks at my school were digging hardcore skate punk and Metallica, I would waltz into class glazed eyed grooving to The Monkees. It was a rebellious time. I loved being an outcast and 60's music was the perfect way of saying to everyone "you don't know shit".
Talk to us about the song-writing process for you. What comes first, the idea? A riff? The lyrics? How does it all fall into place?
Generally it comes from simple chord progressions. I pretty much use the same chord progressions over and over. Thats what rock n roll is. Repitition and familiarity. But the way the songs take on their own personality is adding melody. That comes next. Melody is the most important thing to me. It's the thing that people remember. I also rely on the beat to give me direction. Beat is very important to me aswell. Thats what gets people moving. whether it be slow and swaying or down right jiving. I have a beat in my head and that gets things moving. If you marry a good melody to a sweet beat you can't go wrong. It seems like a very simple idea which to me it comes easy. But without an understanding and appreciation of simple music you'll be scratching your head in wonder.
Where do you look for continuing inspiration? New ideas, new motivation?
New inspiration can be found anywhere it's all about exploration. I'v had so many alter egos and personal adventures in my life it's hard to keep track of who i am sometimes. But thats where the songs are coming from. thats why I had to move to the United States. I need movement in my life at all times. I need to change my look, my personality, the way i think and talk constantly. Thats why no-one can guess my age. I refuse to fall into the trap of "oh this is me, i have to deal with it" Fuck that! At the moment i'm alreading changing into something else. I'm like 100% sober now. And ideas are falling from the sky. It's crazy. I'm all about looking ahead. My past albums when i listen to them are sung by someone else. I can't reach that person anymore. I'm far away. Thats why now I'm Daniel Darling. I must remain interested in myself before I take it to the streets.
Genre's are so misleading and such a way to pigeonhole bands. Without resorting to labels, how would you describe your music?
I have a signature way of doing things. Even though I change my personality I have a formula. I'm an outsider when it comes to scenes. Its Iike dressing in drag & walking into a bar then ordering an ice water and a newspaper to read. It kinda makes sense but theres something a little different about it that makes it stand alone. That's the way I look at my music. I'v dealt into many different genres. I'v played the copycat before aswell. To me it's just pop music.
What is you musical intention? What are you trying to express or get your audience to feel?
My intention is write catchy tunes. My last album "our days mind the tyme" is the showcase of what is to come. The next Dolly album is going to be something else. I write tunes to make me feel good. If other people can jive on that feeling too which i know they can then great! this is the entertainment business and it's my job to make the people dance.
In songwriting, how do you bring the song together? What do you look for in terms of complexity? Simplicity? Time changes?
It's all spontanious. i never like anything too "staged" it has to come naturally. Straight off the bat. Sometimes complex lines work, sometimes simple lines work. it's all about taste. Taste is everything.
The business of music is a brutal place. Changes in technology have made it easier than ever for bands to get their music out, but harder than ever to make a living? What are your plans to move the band forward? How do you stay motivated in this brutal business?
For years I put the business side on the back burner. Sure I had a great time but I wasn't going anywhere. I still don't fully understand the business side of the industry. Thats why I have an amazing manager now who is guiding that aspect for me and the band. Having other people believe in what you do is extremely motivating and comforting. The best thing I can do to stay afloat is play my role. Do my Job. And that job is being an entertainer. Whether i'm living on my mac n cheese or dining out I have to write tunes and perform them. The industry requires product and I produce it in the only way I can.
Come on, share with us a couple of your great, Spinal Tap, rock and roll moments?
Our bass player Jimmy plans to be slayed with an axe after performing "A Sound For Two". His boots will be taped to his knees so he resembles a dwarf. It's going to be wild!
What makes a great song?
Your drivin in your car and you reach your destination but you have do another round of the block because the song you were listening to on the stereo hadn't finished yet.
Tell us about the first song you ever wrote?
It was by my own group called The Dazzling Doodles. I played the lego box by hitting it with chopsticks. And i sung about how the Dazzling Doodles had the greatest hit's in the world "na na na na"
What piece of your music are particularly proud of?
I have a new song called "The Holy Son". It's going to be a hit on the next album. Also I really like the way "A Sound For Two" came out on our last album. It was never intended to have that Baroque feel, it just happened and I was like wow!
Who today, writes great songs? Why?
My favourite artist from the past decade would have to be Alison Goldfrapp. She is amazing. She's everything Madonna should be. I would love to colaborate with her in the future. Electro glam rock seems like a natural progression for me. But in her case she has done it & nailed it so well. Who can top a song like "Strict Machine" ? I flip everytime i hear it.
Vinyl, CD, or digital? What's your format of choice?
Vinyl for sure. I don't buy cd's anymore. I love my I-pod too. Having and Mp3 player is like your own little weapon. Bake to your favourite tunes while riding the bus. It's so radical. Our last record just came out on vinyl which i'm so happy about. To have the artwork blown up to that size made me feel like i'd really produced something. It's so classic. They should print all albums on vinyl. Keep that spirit alive.
We, at the Ripple Effect, are constantly looking for new music. When we come to your town, what's the best record store to lose ourselves in?
Ahhhh in my current town (Los Angeles) I haven't had much of an oppourtunity to go record shopping as I'm pretty much broke. I'v borrowed a heap of records from friends. Ameoba Records is like the mecca record store, I'v been in there a couple of times and you can get lost in there for sure. You'd be best off ordering of Bomp! records. They have sooo much cool stuff. Depends on your taste really. In Australia you can't beat "Red eye Records" in Sydney & "Off The Hip" in Melbourne.
Any final comments or thoughts you'd like to share with our readers, the waveriders?
