1.
The Deadly Snakes - Ode to Joy - In the Red CD/LP - This is
a great record. Not just a great "garage" record, because this
band has never fit the "garage ghetto" placement heaped on them
by categorical minds and people associating sound by label. This is a
great rock and roll record, and if a better one comes out this year each
and every one of you better write me about it, because I want to hear
it. These fellas from Canada upped the ante on most of the modern combos
by actually being a full band - and not just guitar/bass/drums, but an
actual functioning pianist/organist and a by god horn section! When their
first record, Love Undone, came out on Sympathy for the Record
Industry, it formed a lovely trifecta with the Compulsive Gamblers' Bluff
City and The White Stripes’ first album. For one clear shining
moment Sympathy was the best rock ‘n’ roll label in the world.
Love Undone was pure rock attack - and its recording was so primitive that enthusiasts of bands like Jack O’Fire and the Oblivians were put off by its crudity. Me, I have always loved its flattened raw roaring sound, with all those instruments creating a giant rock blare while the songs stagger and lurch.Their second album, I’m Not Your Soldier Anymore was genuinely surprising - it was so much more ambitious than the first. There was still plenty of greasy frat music, but the sound was much more open, and the roar was toned down to spotlight the arrangements and the songs. The presence of Compulsive Gambling, Sound Reigning, Obliviating Greg Cartwright obscured the vocal presence of Max age of Danger, slightly - there were just too many new elements to listen to, and it kind of swamped the record. Danger's higher, snottier and funnier vocal style was a discombobulating change from the deeper soul man testifying of Andre “Ethier” St. Claire, who handled all the vocals on the first record.
Now, with their latest record, a lot of their ideas seem to have come into focus. From its ironic and apropos title to that crazy cover (which gives interesting cues to people and is definitely a Dr. Filth Rorschach Test) to sequencing to sound, this is as fully realized as a low budget LP is likely to get in 2003, and is worth every bit of your ears and attention. And it rocks, oh how it rocks! The record is almost evenly split between the two singers, keeping away the doldrums that can sink in on a more monocromatic male vocal rock and roll album. The sound is even more sparsely mixed - the piano and organ share equal time with guitar and drive a number of the songs. And arrangements keep revealing themselves over repeated listens - you don’t notice the electric sitar on one song or the sparse, eerie horn parts on another until the seventh or eighth time through. To be perfectly honest, I don't want to go into too much individual song description, because I woudn't know where to stop (every one a winner!) and because you should just hear it for yourself. A grower, a mover, and a substantial companion for your doctor over the last couple of months - its qualities and triumphs have only grown. And as a surprising bonus, the lyrics are pretty terrific - pessimistic and cryptic, with that quality of optimism in the face of utter bleakness that is a rock and roll trademark. This record is what the Knoxville Girls were supposed to sound like.
2.
Little Richard - The Rill Thing -- Reprise LP - Not available
on CD - A Dr. Filth See 'n' Grab Special - There are two Little Richard
albums on Reprise from the early 70s that I’m aware of, The Rill
Thing and the King of Rock and Roll. It’s hard to imagine
any albums farther apart. The King of Rock and Roll is pure, hilarious
camp - loud, brazen, and stoopid. This is a much more musicianly affair.
Not that it's studied, or serious, just less . . . gay. Mr. Penniman produced
The Rill Thing, and wrote about half the songs (three with Esquerita,
including the great "Dew Drop Inn"). King of Rock came
out after Rill Thing and is obviously someone else’s concept,
and although Richard handles it valiantly, it’s a shame that this
move towards a filthy, funky rock and soul sound didn’t work that
well commercially - in 20 years hindsight it sounds like a good direction
to keep Georgia Peach vital, and is right up there with Jerry Lee Lewis’
“Southern Roots” or “From Elvis in Memphis” or Bob
Darin’s “Commitment” for 50s icons redefining and representing
their essential characters. Only “Spreadin’ Natta, What’s
the Matta”, cowritten with Otis Blackwell, features the self referentialism
and nostalgic look back at the 50s that makes so much of Little Richard’s
post Specialty work smell from hunger. And I don't mind being reminded
who he "is" once per record. It's all about Richard's vocals,
except for the instrumental track - the record opens with an unnacompanied
nonsense vocal hook that lets you know you are in for, not some old time
rock and roll, not some crazy imitiation of Sly Stone, but some serious
Little Richardin'. But the Muscle Shoals musicians really help - grimy
and dirty with a hot dog rhythm section and fine fuzzy guitar, most likely
provided (not sayin’ for sure but willing to claim) by Travis Wammack,
who gets a songwriting credit for “Greenwood Mississippi”. Unless
my ears deceive me the scratchy sound shows up on more than one cut, and
it’s a matter of record that Wammack toured with Richard in the 70s,
which would have been some show to see. What both the Rill Thing
and King of Rock and Roll have in common is a mutual fondness for
Hank Williams that your doctor found surprising, and the mid tempo bellow
through “Lovesick Blues” on this record is really great. A hard
one to dig up, but worth trips to the Little Richard card of the oldies
section, because most dealers I know don't know this one's hot. PAY NO
MORE THAN: 15 dollars.
3. Sweet Smell of Success - I love this movie more every time I see it. It’s one of those film noirs that deepen and clarify themselves on every viewing - so much information comes at you with so much style that you can’t get your brain around it the first couple times around - you’re too bowled over by, in this case, the dialogue and the two lead performances. This 1957 character study stars Tony Curtis as an ambitious publicity agent weasel and Burt Lancaster as his manipulative newspaper columnist overlord. Lancaster (JJ Hunsucker) has a sister who’s in love with the clean cut guitar player from the Chico Hamilton Quintet. Hunsucker is fixated on his sister, and will do anything to stop the marriage, supposedly to protect her, but really for personal reasons. He forces Tony Curtis to help him with this situation by dangling carrots in front of his face and making him dance. That’s the plot - there are really no “crimes” or “capers” in this movie, but it’s as black and squalid and sleazy as Touch of Evil all the same, and the script is even better. What really gives this movie its friction and edge is the obvious sexual tension between Curtis and Lancaster - the movie is basically about their unconsummated homosexual relationship. It’s brimming with innuendo and gesture, both characters have weird distant relationships with women and much is made of Curtis’ “prettiness”. A great movie. Put it on yr. Netflix list.
A Sweet Smell
of Success Stoetry
(dedicated to the creator of the form, Mr. Kevin “Yee Haw” Bradley
- SALUTE!)
Watch me run a 50 yard dash with my legs cut off.
Open your meaty, sympathetic arms.
Why would Mr. Hunsucker want to squeeze your livelihood?
Don’t you get messages, eyelashes?
Can more than two enjoy this?
JJ, it’s Sydney - could you come out? Could I come in then?
No. You’re dead, son. Get yourself buried.
I call him the boy with the ice cream face.
I like Harry, but I can’t deny that he sweats a little.
When you look at me, you look at a friend in disguise!
Here’s to the times when we played with dolls and dreamed of better
things.
Come back, Sydney! I want to chastise you!
4.
The Original and Great
Blue Sky Boys (RCA Camden, CAL 797, MONO LP) - The liner
notes of a later collection of Bruce and Earl Bolick’s 30s and 40s
recordings grumps “the general preoccupation of later Blue Sky Boys
devotees [is] with the English and American Ballads which composed a significant
-- but not really all that large -- portion of their prewar repetoire.”
If that’s the case, it’s because this early 60s collection of
30s 78s paints a lopsided picture - fully 75% of the songs on this record
are murder ballads. Some compiler at Camden had a pretty screwed up but
very evident agenda. Cool that he did, too, because this record is one
of the top Camden collections I’ve ever heard - easily the equal
of any Carter Family record from the period and more sonically and conceptually
unified than most. I don’t know if this is because they were being
pitched over at Capitol as a folk revival band at the time, but this is
one of those comps where the selection is truly 100% home run. Bruce and
Earl were named the Blue Sky Boys because their home was right here in
Asheville, North Carolina, and they’re as much a source of regional
as any number of Jimmie Rodgers and Emmett Miller stories, and just about
as influential. Without the Blue Sky Boys you don’t have the Louvin
Brothers, the Delmore Brothers, or the Everly Brothers. Rendered in the
calm tone of the Blue Sky Boys, the songs on this record have the two
faced feel of the serial killer about them - Neither “Knoxville Girl”
nor the “Banks of the Ohio”, for instance, have any discernable
motivation at all - the deaths seem entirely arbitrary. One minute they’re
talking about marriage, the next she’s begging him not to beat her
to death with a stick. There are no RCA Blue Sky Boys titles in print
on CD right now (boo! hiss!). PAY NO MORE THAN: 10 bucks, and you should
do a lot better than that. I saw a mono version of this LP on e-Bay go
for $3.50 last week. Hold out for mono - stereo versions should max out
seven dollars.
5. Message Board Thread of the Week: I don't normally make house calls, or at least I didn't until recently. My practice kept me fairly tied to my office. Thankfully, this situation has changed, but it is taking your Doctor some time to adjust. House calls are a much more painful sort of consultation than having someone come into my office -- a record examination on someone's home turf is simply too much information for your doctor to process sometimes. Other elements of diagnosis come into play, and someone selling records out of their house is much less convinced of his decision to sell them than someone who's actually hauled them to a vinyl repository. This leads to deeper internal discussion, and often hard personal bargaining. For an example of a recent adventure in the trade, I direct my good reader here. All three portions of the thread are necessary for full comprehension of the events, and I will gladly amplify them upon request. Enjoy.
6.
Elvis Burbank Sessions Vol. 1 -Audiofon Label (Germany) 2 LPs,
released in the late 70s. A Dr. Filth Ebay Search Object - This double
album is an Unofficially Unliscensed Elvis Presley Product of legendary
proportions. It documents the two sets he recorded for his ‘68 Comeback
television special, recorded on June 27 at 6 and 8 p.m. These are the
two shows Elvis did for the special that were simply him, Scotty Moore,
DJ Fontana, Alan Fortas and Charlie Hodge, sitting in a circle, informally
jamming on a number of tunes that were only barely sketched out and rehearsed
before the taping. It is, according to legend and the hyperbolic words
of Greil Marcus, supposed to be the most exciting and spontaneous music
Elvis ever recorded in public, particularly once he picks up the electric
guitar and starts making a primitive, distorted blare. It deserves its
reputation -- especially if you don’t have a ‘68 Comeback
TV Soundtrack LP or a copy of the Elvis Presley Gold Box (both
of which contain several cuts from these shows). You might consider owning
this even if you do have those other items -- the Audiofon label get the
recording righter than RCA would ever dare, pushing the levels up loud
and not cleaning Elvis raggedy guitar int he slightest.
The first time you hear this stuff it is an absolute revelation and a pure joy -- Elvis sings great early numbers with no censor or restraint on his voice, and his unstudied, fumbling guitar is a gorgeous, brutal sound that pleases the inner punk while remaining rooted in heavy 12 bar blues and three chord rock and roll. The shouts of his companion are contagious and the dialogue is funny. And the first show, which makes up record #1, is everything that’s been claimed for it - a true explosion of energy and a real freeing from the constraints and image-ry that turned Elvis into a joke.
Repeated listens remain compelling and exciting not only for the positive qualities they reveal, and how great the music is, but also how they show the seeds of the next ten years of triumph and then decline, loud and clear for anyone with the inclination and/or imagination to decide it’s there. The 1968 Comeback Special is an essential part of the Elvis as near religion phenomenon, as important as the Jesus ressurection thing or any religious phenomenon involving the myth of the eternal return. The idea behind it is that Elvis wandered in the wilderness of film and fame for 40 days and nights at least, until he returned to his public and delivered this particular sermon on the mount to a nationally televised audience.
What lurks on these unedited performances is Elvis playing up to his Memphis Mafia buddies, who kiss his ass and, laugh at lame jokes, and slap his back when they should push it. You can also hear him goof off when he should be driving, and there is a pervasive sense of attention deficit that was certainly part of Elvis’ ultimate self decimation. You can also hear Elvis, particularly on the second show, begin to repeat himself and try to get back to the spontaniety of only an hour before, but the energy is already beginning to dissipate - no new songs are struck, except for Rufus Thomas’ “Tiger Man”, and nearly every version from the first show is superior than the second. Elvis’s career is all about spontaniety getting beaten to death by repetition (the Dr. Filth maxim goes “Familiarity bleeds content”. That the seeds of this beating are evident at the moment of his greatest triumph is, I suppose, mythically appropriate. Then again, maybe he was just tired and I’m reading too much into it. Wouldn’t be the first time. Got mine on E-Bay for 10 bucks. Used to go for a c-note. Search “Elvis Presley Burbank” and see what you get.
8.
Popgun War - Farel Dalrymple - Published by Dark Horse Press,
2003. This strange little black and white comic has been the buzz
of the sequential narrative underground intelligentsia for about a year
now, and here’s your chance to find out why. Mine too, because I’d
only caught the story in fragments - the early issues were perpetually
outta print, outta stock at Last Gasp. People talk about underground narrative
comics, especially those of a less naturalistic (or Mr. Naturalistic)
nature as having a ‘dreamlike’ quality about them, and this
series floats my dreamboat a lot more than lauded cutie poo like Goodbye
Chunkie Rice. It’s the story of a little inner city kid who steals
a pair of wings that a tattooed angel discards in a trash can, and uses
them to learn to fly. His 10 year old sister Emily fronts a rock band
called the Emilies, who the powers that be are trying to turn into an
international sensation, despite her reluctance to go along. Other characters
include a flying goldfish with glasses and a talking head in a bag. I
hesitate to point out specific portions of narrative because which lines
connect with home is probably an extremely personal matter. Casually fantastic,
sweet and funny and very interesting.
8.
Holy Modal Rounders - Live 1965 - The Holy Moldiest of all Holy
Modal Rounders recordings! This previously unreleased tape of Pete Stampfel
and Steve Weber playing for a coffee house crowd is Modal Grail. After
a condescending introduction emphasizing their spaciness, Pete and Steve
prove just how earthbound they are, with a rhythmically twisted version
of Henry Thomas’ “Fishin’ Blues” (“a song about
fishin’ and blues”). Not twisted in the forced sense of the
Rounders’ ESP albums - this version is nuts because of Stampfel’s
off rhythm, pounding, acoustic guitar. Pete proceeds to play arrhythmically
on just about every track on the record, and his sheer enthusiasm makes
you stop wondering about halfway through the first song whether the sprung
style is intentional or a by-product of too much exuberance, or just chemically
induced. The point is that it doesn't matter. The results are undeniably
there, a kind of Free Folk, and genuinely psychedelic for anyone
predisposed to far outting the primitive. This recording goes a long way
to further convincing me that these guys were the Mummies of the folk
revival, if you can follow that daisy chain of arcane reference. Often
taken as a joke because they had a sense of humor and screwed around a
lot, there was a level on which these guys were truly not kidding, and
it’s on that level that they more fully connect to the 20s and 30s
tradition of songwriting they’re strip mining and rewriting than
any of their more traditional contemporaries who stunk up the joint with
academia at Newport. It’s their ability to disregard self consciousness
and completely throw themselves into their material without ever truly
leaving their unique personalities behind that make the Rounders so rock
and roll. How the audience is not howling along with this version of “Indian
War Whoop” is beyond me.
9. The world really didn't need another version of 'Big Yellow Taxi".
The Cramps are a band divided into two camps: Lux Interior and Poison Ivy, plus whatever rhythm section they’ve got at the time. Their drummer, Harry Drumdini, has been in the band for years, but a rotating second stringer has always hindered their sound - it’s hard to get and stay really great when you’re constantly in rehearsal. Consequently, you usually hear something that sounds like the Cramps combined with post-Cramps rockabilly garage bass, and it doesn’t properly lurk like good Cramps bottom should. But the new bass player, Chopper, sounds like a Cramp, especially when he uses a slide on his bass. And Lux and Ivy are still Bizarro Ike and Tina Turner, and their sexual insanity still pervades a room for however long it might be that they feel like playing. Lux kept his microphone sculpting to a minimum and concentrated on singing and jumping around, and Ivy just let it lurch. Either she or the sound guy took a little while to warm up, but about halfway through “Big Black Witch Craft Rock” someone turned on some afterburner and from that point forward her playing was great. At one point they were rolling around on the floor together, Lux putting his fingers all over her boots while nuzzling up her thighs. Ivy’s gold lamé skirt had rode up in the roll, and she played the for the rest of the show giving everyone in the room a perfectly wild pink panty shot. This while Lux sang through one of her boots and wore one of her wigs.
Best of all, as the show continued, the Cramps energy and abandonment slowly worked its way back through the crowd. The first few rows were dancing immediately, but as the room filled with the call of the wighat people responded. By the end of the show the whole room was a throbbing, horny, beer soaked mess.
Ivy and I talked briefly after the show about how great it would be for them to go on tour with the Hives or the White Stripes or someone like that, assuming that people actually go see “garage bands” other than the White Stripes. I had this great vision of an audience full of people waiting to see Mooney Suzuki or something, and out come the funny old Cramps, and before anyone in the crowd knows it they’re rubbing up on some stranger and doing the hammerlock. Such idealism is my own sort of insanity, and I thank you for sharing my fantasy world for a little while.
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