ANGRY
SAMOANS/MC5/FOGHAT: Cal State Irvine 2-2-80/Grande Ballroom, '68/ROCK
AROUND THE WORLD radio 1-10-76 CD-R (NO LABEL)
Let's
hear it for bootlegs! This one from down around Slippytown. First
up: the Angry Samoans live in 1980. Track one is a total cock-rock
cut-up mess as crazed as Live and Shave, but it's only a few seconds
long. Track two starts with a few seconds of audience noise, and
amongst the party sounds I swear I hear a girl's ass get slapped.
Well, the Angry Samoans started as a Dictators cover band, and
if you've read "Handsome Dick Throws the Party of the Century,"
Meltzer's first-hand account of being at a Dictators party in
1975, you might see a connection. Proto stripper rock or something,
or at least this is what stripper rock could've been, if the Crüe
hadn't earned the crown. (I should point out that the girl really
does sound like she likes it!)
Another tape cut takes us
right into a hot rocker and I realize this is the first time I've
heard the Angry Samoans. And you know what? They shred! It doesn't
sound like overt comedy rock or even smut rock, which I had assumed
they kinda were, a la Gregg Turner and Mike Saunders' previous
band Vom, with their flagship song "Electrocute Your Cock"
(which, comedy smut rock or not, was even more shreddin' than
the hot-shreddin' Samoans). First song ends and they barely skip
a beat before going right into another shreddin' song. This set
was probably bootlegged by Crawlin' Ed himself. 1980! A little
bit of history! The horrible quality doesn't bother me one bit
either, and in fact sounds wonderul in many places. Reminds me
of listening to the live Electric Eels tracks on Those Were
Different Times, complete with similar stage banter: fag-baiting
jokes, and a rap about "eating vomit" that isn't really
a joke at all, and in fact a rather vicious screed that must've
been pulled from that same trash can that the Eels were the very
first rock band to vomit into, you know the one, behind the building
where John Waters and Charles Baudelaire live.
And after 18 minutes of the
Samoans comes a blistering set by the Five themselves (MC, that
is). They start with a totally freaked version of "Rambling
Rose" that makes the Kick out the Jams version sound
like Kiss Alive II. (And, for all you kitsch-hounds out
there, at Blastitude that means "not as good.") Shit,
though, you know what's weird, after "Rose" they go
right into "Kick out the Jams" with the same "kick
out the jams, motherfucker!" intro...what if this is the
same concert that was recorded for the album, only this version
was recorded by a shitty bootleg mic somewhere in the audience!
No wait, never mind, there wasn't all that "see a sea of
hands" stuff, so I'm just trippin'. As for the Five, just
from listening to this I take back the mild doubts I expressed
about them in the last issue. Yeah, the Five often sound like
a heavy-handed boogie blues band, and their righteous full-freak
pot politics have dated, but jeezuz, more so than heavy-handed
they were just plain heavy. And I love the between song
shit, with Rob Tyner calling "Brother Fred Smith" to
action and Fred answering him back just like Bobby answered James
Brown. (What was I saying somewhere else in this issue about how
the music I like, no matter where its from or what it is, has
gotta have at least a little bit of girl-group soul-rock buried
in it somewhere?? Well here it's right on top, baby, like the
maraschino atop the sundae.)
OOPS! The tape cuts
out on the Five right as they begin the immortal strains of their
"Starship" jam. Something must've happened to the bootlegger.
But, plenty more room on the disc, and next up is...Foghat! Live
bootleg! They open with "Fool For The City." Could it
get any better? I like Foghat. "Fool for the city...I'm a
fool for the city...", and just listen to the ever-so-brief
lead guitar hook right after the first chorus and right before
the second verse. This is heavy metal pop done in the boogie blues
style. Just like The Five, in fact -- except that the Five were
a little more Pot Power psychedelic than Foghat, who seemed like
more of a whiskey band, and actually used slap bass in more than
one song. (Can you name the bassist?) Here's what Lonesome Dave
Peverett sings/says at the pre-guitar solo tail end of the slap
bass breakdown: "Alright! Get things moving...yeah..."
The second slap bass breakdown is the shit, just lo-fi cartoon
funk played by white dudes with biker moustaches. And I dig Peverett's
voice, the way his high-end metal feel is saved by cartoon soul
rock. These guys really don't sound British to me, I don't know
what it is. Maybe it's their Winger-and-Warrant imagery: the second
song is called "Wild Cherry" and goes "Cherry...wild
wild cherry...yeah!!"
Did you know
that 3/4 of Foghat were founding members of Savoy Brown? Totally
British, but they play such perfect American cartoon boogie metal.
It's always odd to hear, in between songs, Peverett's calm speaking
voice, sounding like a British gentleman, saying hello to his
aunts and uncles in the audience, and telling the audience how
much Foghat likes Lawrence Welk. He introduces "Slow Ride"
by saying "Alright! Woo! Right. Gettin' nice and hot in here.
This is a song off of Fool For The City, about, uh, doing
it slowly. It! It! 'S'called, uh, 'Slow Ride'," and right
into the immortal drum intro.
What else can
I tell you? Their first two albums were both called just Foghat.
That is bold. Starting with the second, they had seven
straight albums go at least gold. Their biggest seller was number
six of the seven, 1977's Foghat Live, which moved 2 million
copies. And dig how brazenly they steal "Train Kept A Rollin"
by the Yardbirds & Johnny Burnette for "Honey Hush."
Their contemporaries in Aerosmith did it too, but they used the
original's lyrics and gave proper songwriting credit. Foghat doesn't!
(Answer to 'who was bassist' question: Tony Stevens.)
BLACK EYES:
Chimes In Black Water CD-R (AMERICAN TAPES)
It
is kinda odd how Black Dice has evolved from being one of the
last great hardcore bands into a free improv band. They started
out like (the true 'next') Black Flag but lately it's been more
Flies Inside The Sun. I don't know what YOU were expecting from
this collaboration between 'hardcore' bands Black Dice and Wolf
Eyes, but it sounds to me like a psychedelic rock band from 1967
using their instruments and effect boxes to improvise an LP or
two of electronic noise. If the combined previous output of Wolf
Eyes and Black Dice could be considered their Parable in Arable
Land mixed with a little God Bless All Those Who Sail With,
then Chimes In Black Water is their Coconut Hotel,
na' mean? It's weird just how improvised it is. You can hear people
talking in the background, just shooting the shit, and there are
no songs or even beats anywhere in earshot. Long 12 minute tracks,
more like Incus than Troubleman. This isn't punk and it isn't
even No Wave, it's psychedelic free improv played on garage rock
instruments. No different than the instrumental parts from a Dead
C record -- but how good of a Dead C record? I'll say one thing,
the cover art by John Olson is absolutely beautiful. (This CD-R
is a 'rough mix' of the Black Eyes sessions, released by Olson/American
Tapes in an edition of 50. An official double LP release of the
sessions is forthcoming from Fusetron.)
VARIOUS
ARTISTS: Intersect 3 CD-R (PALE-DISC)
I
never did hear the Improvised and Experimental Music Recorded
In And Around Austin, TX LP that came out on Center of Ass
Run, but this Japanese release seems to be a sort of unofficial
follow-up (very unofficial, it's a CD-R release). Six artists
appear on here, one of them being Rick Reed, who was on the Ass
Run LP. Each one does a 10-12 minute long piece, and in fact,
the pieces seem to be performed live in one night in front of
the same rather sizable and appreciative audience. It almost sounds
like a dignified theater, museum, or campus setting, and, with
each track being the same rough length, their sequence has a visual
quality, like a gallery showing of six large paintings or sculptures
that are more or less the same size and composed with similar
materials.
As an aside, I think
that the deeper people get into experimental improv type musics,
it becomes a kind of music where its live performance becomes
more like a finished painting or sculpture than a performance.
This is what the sizable experimental community in Chicago is
all about, which is why bands always come to Chicago and say shit
like "Why doesn't Chicago fucking dance??!!" in between
songs. They just don't realize that Chicago audiences aren't there
to dance, they're there to listen to paintings, and besides, the
bands saying it are usually playing some over-loud temper-tantrum
shit that no one would want to dance to anywhere, let alone in
the Passive Observation Capital of the World.
But back to Texas. These are
six sound sculptures and they're all pretty good. Squarely in
the New Ominousness camp, of course, but the first track escapes
it with a cascading piano-driven sound that points toward the
glory days of Prog. It's still pretty quiet and austere, as is
everything on here. If I had been at this show I would've been
sitting down somewhere very comfortable, resting and closing my
eyes. Doesn't it feel silly when there's a laptop or drone performance
in a club and nobody on stage is doing anything physical or even
noticeable and everyone in the house stands in one place facing
the stage directly anyway? (The Pale-Disc label is run by musician
Kuwayama Kiyoharu, whose own music is worth a listen, especially
Lethe's Sleep Digest and another one where it's crazy string
improvisations recorded by a huge Tokyo construction site where
it's at night and all shut down and eerie.)
ROCKET
FROM THE TOMBS: The Day the Earth Met the Rocket from the Tombs
CD (SMOG VEIL)
I
always knew I was supposed to worship this band, and now that
their extremely brief recording career has been issued on CD and
2LP by Smog Veil, I can actually get down to doing it. Really,
this is some of the best heavy-ass soul-rock (that you could still
call 'proto-punk') I've heard...ever. Now when I mention this
band to people and they say, "Do you mean Rocket from the
Crypt?" it makes me hate those fake-ass Fonzarellies even
more.
Let's see, highlights....well,
the Tombs, like everything Laughner did, were sort of a cover
band, and they start with an instrumental minute or two of the
Stooges' "Raw Power." Apparently that was the theme
for Crocus Behemoth to come steppin' out on stage. After that,
the band goes into "So Cold," which is practically a
cover of the Coop's "Eighteen," but it's so damn soul-baringly
heavy that it makes Coop just feel like bubblegum. Crocus's vocals
are devastating.
But it's still
nothing compared to Peter Laughner's tour de force "Ain't
It Fun," which comes a few tracks later. Jeeezuzz. Laughner's
vocal and lyrics are absolutely terrifying. So what if he sang
"Me and the Devil Blues" the night he died at the age
of 24, the fact that he wrote this howl from beyond at any
time in his life is chilling. For example, "Ain't it fun
when you get so high that you can't...come..." is
a shocking line, because not only is it explicit sexuality, it's
explicit asexuality, brought on by hedonism, leading to despair,
and it conveys all of these things at once. And maybe it isn't
sexual at all; maybe you get so high that you can't go to a social
event, or make some other kind of appointment that you had planned
on, because you can't bear to be so obviously on drugs around
people you care about. Whatever the meaning you shade from it,
Laughner's singing has got all the appropriate loneliness and
loss and forgetfulness and everything. You can keep your children
from rock and roll, but songs like this are better anti-drug PSA's
than anything TV has ever given us, although usually by the time
the subjects hear them (not to mention write them) it's too late.
It was certainly too late for Laughner. (Later in the song, he
asks the terrifyingly not-sarcastic question, "Ain't it fun
when you know that you're gonna die young?")
And speaking of hedonism,
how about the way Laugh. taunts his self-gratifying countrymen:
"Ain't it fun when you're takin' care of number one!"
Then he changes it up with ("Ain't it fun when you j-j-j-j-just
can't f-find your tongue/Just stuck it way too deep in somethin'
that really stung") Baudelarian triple-entendre poetry done
with a Cleveland drawl, and further sung as a pop culture reference
(to Roger Daltrey). And speaking of explicit, how about, "Ain't
it fun when you tell her that she's just a cunt," and in
the very next line, right after the bitch storms out, he already
misses her: "Ain't it fun when you've broken up everything
you've ever done."
Obviously this song
alone is worth the price of admission, and on top of that you
get a song that is probably even better, the incredible Tombs
version of "30 Seconds Over Tokyo." It is definitely
better than the Pere Ubu version from the Hearthan single, and
I think the guitar of Gene O' "Cheetah Chrome" Connor
is exactly what that version misses. The rave-up guitar section
is absolutely as good as it got, and when I say "it"
I mean rock music. I'm not kidding, I don't think there is any
other rock this hot. No, I'm serious. And Thomas's vocals on the
Ubu verzh were cool and all, like some drily weird new style of
method-acting, but on here they're nothing less than a bratty
chant to the gods (through tons of monster-movie reverb so they'll
hear it better) coming from a big loft somewhere in a dead city.
Then, at the end, as the incredible rave-up of "30 Seconds"
tail off into the end, the band kicks into the heaviest version
possible of "Satisfaction." It's frustrating but somehow
fitting that it's only 19 seconds long. Remember when Anthrax
kicked into a little bit of "Sweet Leaf" at the end
of their cover of "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath"? That is
now the second-heaviest cover-snippet-at-the-end-of-another-song
of all time.
ROXY MUSIC:
Manifesto LP (VIRGIN)
This
is a great LP. Get one used while they're still two dollars. Don't
worry, they probably will be for a while yet, because this album,
though great, clearly isn't as great as For Your Pleasure
and Roxy Music, or for that matter Siren and Stranded
(but give me Manifesto and a 45 of "Love is the Drug"
and you can have Siren and Stranded). Manifesto
also has a surprisingly intense 80s producto-sheen that turns
the less hardy listeners off -- by the side two opener "Ain't
That So" the band sounds like Huey Lewis & the News!
Thing is, this album came out in 1979: Roxy were such freaks that
they were makin' fun of 80s pop-rock before it even started! And
listen to Bryan Ferry absolutely being a goon over the schmaltzy
News-worthy blues groove, crooning about "Dynamite! Such
sweet surprise... in southern heat!" and "Peeling walls...
of cheap hotels... Neon flare!" Hell, he starts it off with
"I´ve been around/So far it seems/Too bad the blues/Blew
my schemes"! And, long after all that, the cheesy-ass chorus
still haunts like a mantra: Ferry singing "Ain't that so?"
and then the background soul ladies singing it back. Jake Smith
swears Ferry's asking "Ain't that soul?" and the girls
are responding negatively: "Ain't that. So?"
In fact, Jake can cite several examples throughout Ferry's oeuvre
where the singer elides certain repeated chorus words so that
their meaning is shaded or changes completely. (I'm hoping he'll
pen a guest essay on this for a future issue.)
Meanwhile,
songs like "Still Falls the Rain" are basically good-old
Roxy prog-rock...although it does have a break that sounds like
Haircut One Hundred. Side one closer "Stronger Through The
Years," a Ferry solo composition, does plod a bit, as if
the energy of their early albums has almost completely waned.
But, Ferry makes it up with the next song, the aforementioned
"Ain't That So." And "Cry, Cry, Cry" is classic
Ferry cheese pop, with him hawking his wares: "You ready
for hot stuff? Be prepared!" over another friendly synthetic
blues groove, a song that should be played in cruise ships, because
even as old ladies will dance to it, Ferry keeps it real with
buried Phil Dick/Pop Art imagery: "You´re steppin´ on holy
ground/Hold it there!/I´m fading out your hologram/A phoney toothpaste
smile." And finally, album closer "Spin Me Round"
is not only a night-club pop ballad as elegant as anything on
Avalon (i.e. the most elegant night-club pop album of all
time), but it also ends the album much like the title track ended
For Your Pleasure, with a spacy repeated instrumental chord
roundabout (though not as spacy as "Pleasure"'s -- this
time more 80s).
And
so ends the review. On a scale of 1 to 10, with Roxy Music
getting a 9 and For Your Pleasure a 10, Manifesto gets
a very strong 7.5. (And basically, I'm interested in hearing any
music ever made when it's even above, say, a 6.)
|