THE TRIUMPHANT
RE-RETURN OF WHITE TAPES by Chris Sienko
The
prodigal son of Russ Waterhouse, White Tapes as an entity/label
seems to come and go like a traveling salesman. He arrives
at your door after a six months absence, the two of you
go out on an all night bender, crash a few after-hour trade
show parties and then he disappears again before you wake
up the next day, wondering who’s pants you’re wearing and
which hotel parking lot this is that you’re sleeping in
(and look at that! Right next to my car. And to think I
spent an HOUR looking for it last night, and here it was
the whole time.).
And that’s kind
of the way it should be. It gives an air of mystery, of
hugeness to the label. The old White Tapes webpage showed
a past release list that looked like the cast of extras
on a Cecil B. DeMille movie…you hadn’t heard of half of
these tapes, and you sure as hell didn’t come into personal
contact with more than a handful of them. Like kindred spirits
American Tapes, there’s that realization that a host of
micro-edition tapes has gone out to clusters of suburban
sound-sops around the country while you were waiting for
the next label update to hit your email box. All it takes
to grab onto one of these elusive critters is perhaps to
drop Russ an email out of the blue and say "So, what’chew
been doing lately?"
Unlike American
Tapes, there’s something blissfully understated about Russ’
empire. Releases don’t go out of print with a bang, or a
whimper, more of a nod and a pat on the shoulder. The ones
you are privileged to hear will probably change your life
in small, sweet ways, and the ones you missed probably would
have too. This may well be the best method devised yet to
discourage label completionists like myself…the product
comes out so fast and tiny, nobody could have a complete
set. But in contrast to American, in which each release
is like a circus performer, every one more colorful and
ostentatious than the last, White Tapes are more like a
string of interesting bar patrons. You don’t feel bad if
you haven’t had a chance to hear the life story of everybody
in the bar, but you enjoy the stories you’ve heard, and
you can leave happy at the end of the night.
As
this review may have indicated, White Tapes have again hit
the road like Ned Beatty in Silver Streak, instigating
a happy hubbub at shriners conventions across the land,
so grab a stiff drink and your name badge and come with
me as we join the action, already in progress…
The
SB -- Test Hits CD-R
Early
on into the reviews and we’re already seeing a big surprise
– Russ has gone at least partly digital! The "Cherries"
side label (distinguished from the tape series, which is
called "Private Dancer") is putting out new and
reissued works on CD-R for a very affordable $5 plus shipping.
They come in nice slipcases with airbrush painting on the
front, and since they’re the types of slipcases that usually
contain computer discs, it’s the ones that are sealed and
you have to rip open (eek! Not the special packaging, Maude!)
to get to. The two I received in this package looked exactly
alike, except for the typewriter-on-transparancy-on-whiteout-blob
title sticker on the back, classy and understated.
I
had not heard The SB before this, or even heard of them,
but it seems they’ve already disbanded. Like the label,
elements of the NY free improv clubhouse appear and disappear
with nary a blip on the collective radar. It’s a 20 minute
EP of group intuition, with a host of gradually shifting
and blending instruments such as bass, guitar, oscillator/electronics,
saxophone, violin and assorted feedback devices. Doesn’t
sound like anything you’ve not heard before, but it’s better,
because unlike most of the free-scuttle you’ve picked up
last year, it’s delicate and benevolent, rather than cracked
and hostile. There are certainly moments where the feedback
begins to hovering
frighteningly overhead, but The SB never give in to such
standard deviations. If someone gets malevolent on the group’s
ass, nobody picks up the ball and runs with it! The guitars
sometimes play melodies, the bass is very melodic through
the start of the recording, and the oscillators never get
too harsh. Everywhere you listen, you start to hear things
that could sound like standard free improv moves, but they
always resolve into something else, something better. A
cork-tipped fork in the eye of the never-ending bowed metal
drone legions.
Born
In East L.A. -- s/t cassette
When
the now-mythological free glam junta To
Live And Shave In L.A. decided that it was time to hang
up the spangles and close the makeup mirror for good, many
of their fans, and even some of the band members past a
present, brusquely grabbed the dropped torch away and proceeded
to burn their own asses with it. Anyone who was a Shave
fan has heard of the Shave Clone era, when little replicas
of this frenzied and holy cool sleaze corporation started
springing up in all parts of the country. Like "After-MASH"
and "Trapper John, MD," none of the spin-offs
ever captured the magic of the original, but each one probably
had some choice moments, whether they were recorded or not.
I
have to admit that I really didn’t follow the exploits of
these PRE-replicants very closely, but my impression was
that each faction seemed to capture some element of the
original Shave mythos. To Live and Shave In L.A. 2 made
a ham-fisted grab for sheer sonic brutality, while I Live
In L.A. ran straight for the audience battering, and I Love
L.A. took the route of the fatherband’s more detailed studio
releases.
If
this model holds up, then Born In East L.A. took the sound
and feel of the Shave on their many deleted live tapes…bad
fidelity, low turnout and unresponsive audience, and a sweet
and humorous pathos in the face of chin-scratching apathy.
Starting
with a blast of tape from Label Master Russ that sounds
like an argument captured out a window on the streets below,
SPITE label head Joel St. Germain adds the sounds of a delay
pedal, a robot (?) and a Casio to the mix, UNIVAX-styled
synth beeps and calculations over a rough foundation of
hoarse voices and movements. It’s only 10 minutes, and comes
on a very low-grade 60 minute tape, allowing you to interpret
the next 50 minutes of after-show drinking and carousing
for yourself. The audience sounds less than enthused, but
I play this at least a couple times a week.
The
Animals -- 7.15.00 cassette
This
came as a real shock. I had heard something previously on
White Tapes, also credited to The Animals, which sounded
nothing like this. That tape had the feel of what I’ve come
to term the "Swinging Lavatory Improv" sound.
If you’ve heard more than a few American Tapes (and some
Rheum) releases, you know the sound. Room ambiance rules
the recordings, but not the chapel-sized caverns of Crawl
Unit, but the tiled-wall confines of an old movie theatre
lavatory, with instruments often droning and creaking like
someone endlessly pushing a rusty trash can lid open and
closed. I find this type of improv/noise to be endlessly
soothing, and different-like-a-snowflake consistent enough
to welcome each new addition to the canon into my home with
mannered delight.
But
this ain’t that at all. It’s instead a guitar/drum improv
duo, a la Ascension, recorded live. And although that isn't
normally my thing, this rocks me out madly. And mostly because
it does rock, and doesn’t try to skronk too hard. I can
only get so excited about guitar noise coupled with free
drumming, but I can get very excited about almost-metal
riffs spiraling into themselves like a suburban John McLaughlin,
while the drummer keeps a steady groovebeat beneath. It
reminds me more of the first Big Whiskey album than anything
on Corpus Hermeticum, or anything with numbers for song
titles. I play it more than anything else in this style
that I own, and so will you.
Rheum
-- Loathsome Idols cassette
Russ
is Rheum, and this tape is a 1-sided C-60 "greatest
hits" of some of his releases on his own and other
labels, including SPITE and Uncut. Rheum is like the noise
wing of Swinging Lavatory Improv, again working in very
grainy environs but with a deeper and more full-bore thunder.
Having only heard his "Solo Joint" tape on SPITE
before this, I was taken by the varied approach his project
tapes, ranging from hands-off late-esque location pieces
to pedal noises in full tilt. Even some manipulated turkish
music (the cover is a funny/disturbing/incomprehensible
Turkish collage). All of it has those succulent tape-label
homey-ness, the kind you always want more, as long as it’s
the really good stuff. This is all the really good stuff.
The inside cover contains a stamp with the words "Loathsome
Idols" and a phone number on it. Anyone care to take
a chance and ring it up? You think you’ll get Russ, or maybe
"Loathesome Idols Catering Service"?
FKTRN
-- 99 - 2000 cassette
This tape was in my package even though I didn’t order it,
and it hadn’t been advertised in the White Tapes catalog.
Guess it must have been released in the time between my
money being sent and the package hitting the USPS (just
like I said, tape-label ballet!). I can’t say I’d heard
of FKTRN, but as I started to look over the J-card, I recognized
some things…familiar box-y checkerboard line art, hand-written/revised
track listings, and most importantly, the names…Vanessa
and Dino. Wait, wait…Vanessa and Dino? Could it be? Could
they have…is it…could it be…
THE
RETURN OF OLD BOMBS?!?!?!?!?
Sure
enough, it seems to be one of my favorite could’ve-beens
of ’98, the Monotract spin-off Old Bombs. To the best of
my knowledge, they only released two one-sided tapes, one
30 minute one on White Tapes, the other a stunning 15 minute
tape on SPITE. They did the Monotract thing with noise instead
of noise-rock, lots of junk elements, turntable abuse, and
what sounded like many homemade instrumentation/noisemakers.
I was in love, but my love kept me at a distance by only
coming home for these brief, almost conjugal visit stays
(15 and 30 minutes? How can I get to know you like that?).
But
with FKTRN, Vanessa and Dino area back with a flourish,
two sides to the tape, and it seems they’ve added some new
equipment, some of it employed for gettin’ it on the good
foot. Yep, unlike Old Bombs, you can, er, D.A.N.C.E. to
F.K.T.R.N. Well, in that way that you can dance to Wolf
Eyes or Jean Street.
The
"midwest sickly electronica" sound is on this
tape like cheese-flavored on balls. Although certain tracks
go totally arrhythmic, most of them clonk and grind along
like the electronic messiah we were promised in ’92, but
didn’t get until ’99 (see my forthcoming article, "Ha
ha, you missed the best electronica of the ‘90s because
you listened to Hrvatski instead of cassettes" for
more details), the hubbub party jam that nobody picked up
when Severed Heads threw it all away to become New Order.
Even down to the ‘80s Pat Benetar-meets Cosey Fanni Tutti
of the NEW! IMPROVED! Hanson Records style, this tape screams
Ann Arbor, Michigan. And you know how we like screaming
in this household. Best of all, my tape was recorded on
a Eric B. and Rakim tape I don’t yet own, allowing me not
only a great soaking of nuts n’ noise, but also a preview
of "Follow The Leader." The two taste great together,
like they were made for each other. Kind of like a very
perverse mixtape, with only two artists per side. Nine stars
out of a possible four.
Spykes
– Underneath Style CD-R
Starting
and closing with CD-R EPs, this one a reissue of an even
smaller American Tapes micro release by AT label head John
Olson. Spykes (previously GI and the Spykes, previously
DL Savings TX) is Olson’s Rheum, the noise/sound project.
Like the FKTRN tape, this dips a toe in the Wolf Eyes electronic
sound, but the beatz come in half-dozenz
this time. It’s mostly oozing and wheezing electronic lincoln
logs, piling upon each other in crooked but organized ways.
Like Merzbow with homegrown equipment, there are tens of
things to be enjoyed in any given second, with the next
10 seconds promising ten completely different events. There’s
eight or nine short tracks and a 14+ minute drone at the
end to calm you down. Is it worth it to reissue a release
in an edition of probably 50 that was probably originally
issued in an edition of 9? I think so…there’s probably about
59 people in the world that need to hear this, and you damn
sure know who you are. Chop chop!
Write
to Russ at gylan@mindspring.com
for ordering info and shipping prices. These may still be
available, but if not, there will be something new on the
way that you’ll grok. Don’t be a stranger, Russ; crashing
the plumber and pipefitters convention just isn’t the same
without you!
BLASTITUDE
#5
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