Slapp Happy were a brilliant band, and the more I listen to them the more it grows on me. 'The Drum' is a song that really shows their genius , and as it's from the Casablanca Moon sessions, we're granted two different versions of it.
The first version comes from the Acnalbasac Noom album, which was originally recorded with members of Faust but not released for a few years. Here we get a crunchy acid-rock version of the song with searing guitar licks and booming drums. The chorus is notably different than the second version, with numerical lyrics and a more simple melody. This is the first version of the song I ever heard and one of the most overtly catchy tunes on the record, though the lyrics are far more interesting than most things you hear on the radio.
Re-recorded for the much tamer Casablanca Moon LP, the second version turns down the volume but flows nicely. I can't pick a favorite of the two, but the softer arrangements maybe fit better with the cabaret feel of the band. Blegvad's vocal doubling is a nice touch, and the new chorus (We watched a distant drummer flashing / on the beat in all his / parrot fashions - how does he come up with this stuff?) really lifts the song up.
I'm a big admirer of Blegvad (especially of his Leviathan comic) and his ability to wind extremely intelligent lyrics with catchy songs. He manages to inject a fair bit of humour and quirkyness, but without coming off as annoying or showoffy. A lyric like Don't move your feet until the next beat comes / one of the laws says pause between / though I would hate to make the game seem mean may look simple on paper, but I think this is really one of the highest forms of pop songwriting.
And as a bonus, here's Bongwater's cover, which is even bouncier than the original.
Sometimes it takes a really long time to "get" someone's music. Strangely, I find that with experimental/"out" music it's actually easier to appreciate something after one listen, while pop music is much more particular for me.
Richard Davies is a case in point. When I met my good friend C in 1998 (both of us students in the History of Jazz undergraduate course), he lent me There's Never Been a Crowd Like This by Richard Davies, which was of interest because it was on the Flydaddy label, also home to the Olivia Tremor Control whom we loved very much. [Actually I remember the first time I visited C in his dorm room - I went back to this crazy student lair full of weird hippie kids smoking tons of pot all the time. C had this little CD rack above his desk that was populated with his favorite artists: Neutral Milk Hotel (whom we both loved and the reason we met), Tortoise, and Stereolab. It's funny how much we've both changed now.] I remember him lending me that CD but I didn't really like it much (and I don't think he did either).
I didn't like it then, and not for the next 8 years, because it wasn't overtly catchy. Perhaps I just wasn't ready for it. While I remembered it as being really innocuous folk-pop, it's actually a suite of incredibly bizarre yet brilliant pop songs, with strange chord changes, unconventional cadences and weird lyrics. I write this as I listen to it now, for probably the first time since 1998. It is actually too much to take in at one listen, which makes me wonder why I thought it was forgettable.
I have gone back to seek out this album because at this point, Instinct by the Moles has been elevated to the level of "pop classic" in my personal record book. It is a very short album, and very densely packed with ideas, but it is completely wonderful and a work of genius (perhaps the misunderstood variety). At times it feels like a prog record but without being particualrly musical;; the lyrics have the quirks of Van Dyke Parks but the paradigm of mid-90's indie pop -- it's not particualrly cinematic but I get chills as he sings "Watching the night". Amazing amazing amazing, and some say Untune the Sky is even better so I should get listening... but in the meantime I am spinning There's Never Been A Crowd Like This which strikes me as perhaps an even more developed version of Instinct. Richard Davies, you fascinate me, and I will be listening more and more in the next few weeks because this is the right time of the year for your music, and I need a new pop artist to become enamored with. Oh yes, the Cardinal album (his supergroup with Eric Mathews) is also great.
Why did it take me this long to "get" Royal Trux? For years, Twin Infinitives is the only one I've ever listened to, as much as anyone can "listen" to it. I think I heard one of their major-label records when I was in high school and it just sounded like Guns n Roses or something so I wasn't interested. But in the past week I heard the new Howling Hex record, which sounds like R. Stevie Moore crossed with the Stones. And out of curiosity I finally checked out Accelerator, and SHIT, it's fucking awesome! Now I have a deep and hopefully rewarding discography to investigate.
I'd say this new HNIA record is his best since Fort Lake, continuing the upward progress from Last Night. There's an abundance of sequenced drum tracks here, at time overbearing, but melodically it's a step back toward Fort Lake, with some moments of incredible sweetness.
Sadly the direction they were headed in when I saw them live about two years ago seems to be abandoned. The instrumental approach heard on their Brown Rice CD-R sounds more like Art Ensemble of Chicago than anything ever released on a 4AD record, though perhaps smoother and more melodic. The percussion-heavy, improvised angle wasn't the HNIA we know and love, but a remarkable sound anyway. The first track on Detrola, "The Darkess Night," hints at this sound but doesn't dwell on it long.
Brown Rice was re-released in the Cloud Box, if you can call something a re-release when it's actually in more limited quantities than the original. Since I wasn't one of the 45 people lucky enough to order the box, I made do by downloading it. In ten discs, the group rarely sounds the same from one to another. Some are wildly noisy freakouts, some are one-off experiments, and a few are so great that it would justify the $100 pricetag. Specifically, disc 3, Dreem Up, which is based around vocal/song work. A cover of Neil Young's "Harvest" made me jump for joy, for I had just been listening to the original version of the song on repeat while cooking. Warn's take has warbly guitar behind the breathy vocal rendition. Even better is Big Star's "Nighttime", another song I truly love, sung here over a bed of radio static.
Certainly in the upper echelon of my favorite artists, Warn Defever's music is something that I've grown to understand over time. Detrola may not be as timeless as Stars on ESP, but I think it's one I'll listen to a good deal in the next few months. Along with the new Destroyer! Hey, did I forget about how great that fucking Destroyer album is?
It was sometime in early 1996 that I bought Nine Black Poppies by the Mountain Goats, which I bought because I was really into this band called Number One Cup from Chicago and they covered "The Monkey Song" on the b-side of one of their 7"s. I loved the song so I bought Poppies no doubt because it was cheap, as an EP. I remember buying it from Randy's Alternative Music on the South Side.
I was hooked pretty quickly. At age 16 I was really focused on songwriting, and the lo-fi (or bi-fi as I soon discovered) approach stripped everything away and left these almost funny, yet intensely serious SONGS at the core. It was dangerously close to "folk" music but I didn't care.
I mean - "Cubs in Five"! What a way to start a record. Soon after that came Sweden, the only other Mountain Goats CD that was for sale at Randy's. This was a bit more difficult... longer, darker, and a bit much to get through. Obviously the title conjured a winter sensation, plus songs like "Snow Crush Killing Song" and "Cold Milk Bottle". I was quite taken by "Neon Orange Glimmer Song". But what was with all of these "Going to" songs?
Without much money I found myself trading dubs of albums through the mail with people on the Internet. I remember one day receiving Zopilote Machine and the Taking the Dative cassette on one 60 minute tape and thinking "This is the best Mountain Goats stuff I have ever heard." If Sweden was a winter album, Zopilote Machine represented the heat of summer, the orange ball of love/hate/pain hanging overhead while Mesoamerican-themed romances blossomed and withered away. It certainly pushed the buttons of this young romantic, and the completely basic boom box approach made even more sense.
What is it about a guy banging a cheap acoustic guitar and bellowing with conviction that moves me so much? To this day I still find "New Star Song" (from Beautiful Rat Sunset) absolutely beautiful and sad, and it's about Reading, PA. All throughout my sixteenth year I listened and listened and listened and loved everything I heard. I tracked down some old 7"s, got some more cassette dubs, and grew to love Sweden (though it didn't really affect me til I was older, when I finally experienced the heartbreak and loss described on that record).
In May 1997 I fell in love, or so I thought. I mean, who the fuck knows when you're 17. But she loved the Mountain Goats and Pavement and Built to Spill and all of the other indie guitar bands that my world was centered around. We had been dating for about a week and then John Darnielle actually came to town and played a show, at a big gross club as part of a 9 band festival that was underattended and mostly uninspiring. He had a new record that was just released that week and it was called Full Force Galesburg. She and I went to the show and I started talking to Darnielle, as I was the type of kid that always wanted to meet his musical heros.
Darnielle was, well, cool. Very cool. He brought me "backstage" and we talked for almost an hour. He was upset that the free in-store magazine that is given away at Sam Goody panned Galesburg. He told me that if I liked his earlier records (and I did, I did!) then he didn't see Galesburg as a departure. I told him some of the sensations that his songs conjured in me, specifically how I tied them all to seasons (Beautiful Rat Sunset = autumn, Zopilote = summer, Poppies = spring, Sweden = winter of course, and Nothing for Juice felt more disjointed, like it had been compiled from various seasons). Perhaps because of his ego he was delighted to talk about his own work, but I genuinely found him inspiring. He was excited to find out that I had just become a vegetarian, and he even gave me advice on my love life - to always address problems openly, and never let things build up passive-aggressively.
To a 17 year old indie rock fanatic, this was exciting. However old and jaded I may be now, talking to Darnielle was a reinforcement of what had drawn me to underground music in the first place - the rejection of the studio system, the industry and the distance between the fans. He played a killer set. People were yelling out for "Going to Georgia" right away but he said "I'm not going to shoot my load on the second song!" and saved it til the end. He played "Stars Fell on Alabama" at my request, because he didn't have the right guitar to play "Alpha Incipiens".
I bought Galesburg that night, the romance collapsed a week later and I didn't really spin Galesburg that much that summer, possibly because of my associations with the girl, or whatever. I started college in the fall, and a 3 year gap began where there weren't any new Mountain Goats albums. I gradually got into Galesburg, to the point where it is my absolutely favorite work of his now, and I would say a masterpiece. Perhaps to me it symbolizes the end of an era, because The Coroner's Gambit and all subsequent work, while good, just doesn't have what the early stuff had.
Maybe it's that feeling of a small, close-knit musical community, of geeky songwriters banging out rough tunes in their bedrooms, what they called the Inland Empire, the bi-fi movement, etc. - maybe that is gone now, with glossy studios, nice production, big labels, and larger fan bases. But most likely it's because I have changed - I am no longer 17 years old. I still listen to every thing John Darnielle releases, because I am a fan, and he is probably the one artist whom I follow like a "cult". But something just isn't the same about the new records, while the old ones resonate with nostalgia for my late teens.
I know almost every song he writes is exactly the same - it's about the point in a relationship when you know it's all over - both of you know - but you keep holding on, out of comfort and fear. If there's only one thing you're going to write 200 songs about, it seems like a valid choice.
Full Force Galesburg is a fucking masterpiece though. And everything he recorded between The Hound Chronicles and it has a special place in my heart. I do like the recent albums - there are the odd songs that I will listen to over and over, like "Palmcorder Yajna" for example - but the time that resonated most with me is now past. Luckily there's plenty of recordings to show for it. The 3 CD's compiling the comp tracks, cassettes and 7"s contain some of his finest work. The first Extra Glenns 7" is one of my favorite singles of all time.
The first time I ever visited Lexington, I went to see Von Hemmling open up for the Mountain Goats - this was on the Talahassee tour. It was great, absolutely great - a great set, lots of fun banter, and they closed with "Cubs in Five" (after all, the Bucs had just won a Super Bowl so the lyrics were changed to "The Tampa Bay Bucs will repeat, repeat, repeat!"). I'd still go and see him any night of the week. And now it's been almost ten years since I first heard his nasal moan.
Happy new year.
Last night I had a dream that I was listening to "Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain" with someone. I woke up feeling rather emotional, and I know I've said this before, but I definitely think Pavement is my all-time favorite band. A lot of it is the feeling of nostalgia for that volatile teenage time in my life when Pavement was front and center, but it still resonates with me strongly and even after listening to "Slanted and Enchanted" over 1,000 times (I estimate) it still strikes me as the most important and evocative music of my lifetime.
I borrowed "Crooked Rain" from Roxanne tonight to listen to just now to get pumped up for the Steelers game that starts in 20 minutes. It's the UK edition on Big Cat... comes with a nice little xeroxed Big Cat catalog offering releases by Gumball ("Wisconsin Hayride" anybody?) and Cop Shoot Cop and Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine..... and this little blurb:
Slanted And Enchanted" is hailed as a classic of our times. Nothing else to say.
"Westing" combines 23 tracks unavailable elsewhere, and in common with all Pavement's releases, it held the number one Indepedent Chart position in the UK. The "Trigger Cut" single contains the climatic "So Stark" and "Sue Me Jack", unavailable elsewhere. The same goes for the "Cut Your Hair" single with 2 excellent tracks unavailable elsewhere. Where second albums have failed, "Crooked Rain" has conquered all - 12 brilliant songs.
Ten years ago my favorite song was "Gold Soundz" because it seemed to perfectly sum up my pre-teen years listening to R.E.M. and other musics with wide eyes and an open heart. Ten years later I seem most affected by "Home", "Here", maybe "Fillmore Jive" because of reasons too complex to even articulate.
Also on the back of Rox's CD is a sticker that says "Recommended Tracks: 1. Silence Kid, 4. Cut Your Hear, 6. Unfair, 9. Range Life - WARNING: FADE AT 3:18 TO AVOID EXPLETIVE".
I will write more about Pavement in the future, the next time I am in this weird mood. Now it's time to get psyched about the STEELERS.
... I'm a fool for staying home and having none.
I dunno why but for the past two days I've been strumming Neil Young songs on a classical guitar, and also practicing Bach piano pieces.
Robert turned me onto "Farewell Aldebaran" last year when I moved to Lexington. This is a record made by Judy Henske and Jerry Yester in 1968 and originally released on Zappa's Straight label. I think it's been out of print since then. But now, the Radioactive label has reissued it (though it may be a bootleg ). Regardless, it's now on CD for anyone to purchase, and I highly highly recommend it. To everyone.
Yester was a member of the Lovin' Spoonful; he married Henske and they made this record, their first together. Yester is reponsible for most of the music and Henske most of the lyrics, though there are some more collaborative tracks. Over the past year, "Farewell Aldebaran" has grown to become one of my favorite albums of all-time. It is definitely a product of the 60's - tripped out, psychedelic production, folky/medieval imagery merged with science-fiction themes, and totally 1968 cover art - yet the music is timeless, every bit as accessible to people today as the hippies of Yester-year.
It shifts gears a lot, opening with the gritty stomp of "Snowblind" (where Henske growls like Betty Davis on Viagara) to the full-on power pop of "Horse on a Stick," with lyrics about soaring through sky and space. Then "Lullaby" comes and the mood changes again, to downcast Apocalyptic folk that predates Current 93 by about two decades.
Then, "St. Nicholas Hall" - a strange Gothic plea for parishoners to send more money to their local Catholic church/school. This is possibly my favorite song on the record, yet I still can't quite understand it's motive. The back-and-forth gestures of lyrics like "Blessed are the pure of heart/(We need a new organ by June)/Blessed are the merciful/(The old one's badly out of tune)" are inspiring in the grandeur to which they are sung, yet also hilarious. By the end, Henske sounds like she is truly channeling the Divine spirit, yet the tongue-and-cheek nature of the lyrics (and their context on the rest of the record) just leave it feeling extremely strange. I suspect the lyrics are embellished from an actual letter that Henske found, though it's hard to say.
I won't go through the rest of the tracks on the album, but they are all brilliant (except for maybe the Yester-led "Mrs. Connors" which isn't BAD, just not up to the caliber of every other song). "Three Ravens", "Charity" and "Rapture" are catchy, beautiful, and containing some of the best lyrics on the album. "Raider" is the centerpiece of the record - this song is ETERNAL. It is bouncy and exuberant, with hooks that will have you singing it forever - it is a cycle, a force, and it's impossible not to shout along with "Raider, she cries, there's tears in your eyes". The final track, "Farewell Aldebaran", uses some fucked up synth sounds, a Vocoder (I think), and it opens the door to a future that never came.
On many road trips last year to Louisville and Cincinnati, this album saved me from the boredom of I-64/75. Those moments spent alone with your favorite music are the times when you really begin to feel close to a song, a lyric, or a melody. "Farewell Aldebaran" has enriched my life - I have never heard anything else that sounds like it - and it has provided me with memories, excitement and inspiration. Buy it!!! Or download it!!! You will not be disappointed.