June 2009

After twenty years of making music for ears set to pick up under ground tones, it’s shocking to think that Ian Svenonius has anything at all left to say. It would seem, though, that with his new disc, that there are a few things that he feels needs to be restated, because after the eight proper long players from the Make Up and Nation of Ulysses, most would think otherwise. Perhaps though, taking up a crew of left coasts musicians to back him up served Svenonius’ purposes. For being an individual so tied to Washington D.C. and the Dischord roster, it’s almost startling to figure that Svenonius enlisted folks from Dub Narcotic Sound System, Saturday Looks Good to Me, Bad Thoughts and Seahorse Liberation Army. He did, though.

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I believe what we have here folks is the last proper studio disc from German weirdoes 39 Clocks. Oddly, out of all the bands from the father land that have gained some tread in underground psych circles, these guys usually go unmentioned. The principal duo making up the group, J.G. 39 and C.H. 39 are joined by some additional players to fill out this disc, which doesn’t really sound too far detached from earlier offerings from the band. And while nothing on here is shocking any longer – the disc was released in ’87 – it’s a manageable amalgam of low fidelity pop, some folk, whatever passed for punk at the time and out of tune warbling.

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Busking usually gets a bad rap from the perspective of not just the performers, but the transient audience passing by, mostly out of tune and uncaring about what’s going on right there on the side walk. Some groups have made it off the streets – the Libertines and Pete Doherty most notably of late – but for the most part, it seems to just be a way by which to gain a few bucks for a drink or a piece of pizza. You don’t make millions with your guitar case open as a seemingly talented beggar. That’s not meant to dissuade you vagabonds from attempting it, but ya know…

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Coming late to the folk revival party that could be understood to have begun in the late ‘50s, Pentangle was made up of an immense array of talent that, somehow, when congregated never full reached the zenith of some of its members’ other endeavors. Mostly, I’m thinking about Bert and John. While not generally mentioned in the States as an important milestone in the folk resurgence, that duo’s disc can be seen as some rebirth on that bejeweled isle, England. There were certainly some missteps – mostly tied to the vocal led numbers, but those slighty blemished moments seem to surpass most of the Pentangle catalog.

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A track off the previously mentioned Beach House...

PopSikeI think that it hit 80 degrees today. And while summer official began a while ago – I believe – today seems like the first day of it. With that comes more bike rides, escaping what four walls slam my face in as I stare at a screen droning out precocious music insights that may or may not matter at the end of time, whenever that is. On those bike rides, though, I need something to sing to. I can’t explain why exactly, but long bus rides or road trips call for extended jazz workouts while bicycles call for pop to push my lungs to not only move the blood around as I traverse flat land and hills, but also to belt out a few songs. And for that very reason, the Blues Magoos got a (digital) spin today as I did some errands.

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Leon Russell his a haggard quality to him – even when he was younger – that, while kinda disturbing, served to make him a unique character amongst the flower toting masses crossing the California boarder making its way to L.A. or San Fran. His solo work seemed more tied to a downer style of folk and show tunes that no one else was taking advantage of at the time. And while he released a countless amount of work under his own name, not all of it seems up to snuff. But that was from 1970 and on.

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WailingThe US Northwest has as rich a musical history as any other portion of the world. And no, it’s not all tied to Nirvana, although those dudes ruled. But before that downer take on heavy sludge got sleek and had a turn on the air waves, there was Hendrix, Ray Charles and Quincy Jones. In the rock medium, though, that part of the country gave us the Sonics, without who, we might not have arrived at punk as quickly. And informing those folks was a group from the pretty bland satellite city of Tacoma called the Wailers.

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SLBThe real Lord Baltimore bought a plot of land in the early seventeenth century in Newfoundland and established the first known permanent settlement in the new world. That dude, though, has absolutely nothing to do with early metal or music at all, even though he may have enjoyed the lute or some such. But the band that inexplicably took his name, Sir Lord Baltimore, has been able to stake a claim to a transformative moment in heavy music’s history. They aren’t the most talented group ever, but as a trio, there aren’t too many band’s that sound this heavy. And yes, I’m well aware of Cream’s existence.

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The story of the Heavy Metal Kids is really just the show biz tale of Gary Holton, who made it everywhere – theater stage, concert stage, television. Being a child actor might have imbued the cockney accent toting performer with a few issues to deal with, but those problems wouldn’t really come to a head until a bit later in his career. The theatric background that Holton had, though, served to inform the stage presence of the Heavy Metal Kids to the extent that more than a few punk icons recall the band’s shows pretty distinctly even at this late date.

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ExploitoBeing a session player probably isn't the most rewarding career track to follow to its end - listen to "Session Man" (that's the second time this week I've been able to reference that, I'm psyched). But in the annuls of rock there are number of individuals who made their mark on music through this position in music. Ry Cooder is probably the best known, even as his solo work after the sessions with the Rolling Stones comes in at just above horrendous. But alongside Cooder in the UK scene was a man named Big Jim Sullivan - apparently Little Jim was used to refer to Jimmy Page, but there's no corroboration for that apart from Wikipedia...so...

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Afro RockIt always fascinates me what music makes its way back to the people after a time in the wilderness. There isn’t any reason as to why Chrissy Zedbby Tembo and the Ngozi Family have been recently resurrected and dispersed to the stoned masses, but that’s what happened. Again, the aspect to this disc - My Ancestors – that probably endears it to geeks, freaks and collectors is its scarcity. Even with that being said, the fuzzy guitar here can’t be surpassed by too many other players from the ‘70s. The singing, though, is another story.

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OneDaniel Padden isn't a huge name - thus locating too much in the way of a biography is problematic. Having done time in Volcano the Bear, beginning in the mid '90s, the group went on sabbatical early in the new millennium. It was apparently amicable, with different group members contributing to each others' new projects and roaming about all free range like with other divergent bands and ensembles. But what Padden has done is to begin recording under his own name - pretending it was a solo project - but then slowly enlisting a number of peripheral players to augment his approach to albums. The One Ensemble has been the resultant project. And most recently, the group has released Other Thunders via the Brit imprint No-Fi.

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Released just about a decade ago Pspyched! compiles various singles and album tracks from '80s bands that could, in a very broad sense, be figured to have been spawned from the acts represented on Nuggets. In reading about the disc, though, it seems that upon it's released, folks made a big deal about how cohesive the album was. But sporting a track listing that counts 14 bands as different as Polyphemus and Thee Hypnotics, that just seems like a good bit of lip service. Regardless, though, the compilation does present an interesting look at the Beggars label during the '80s when garage and psych got a weird working over.

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3 or 4While never the focal point of Soft Machine, Hugh Hopper was perhaps as important a member as there ever was - and as the band got into the '70s, there were a whole buncha dudes. But with Hopper and Ratledge intertwined in a sort of disheveled punk-jazz groove, it allowed for the rest of the band, regardless of how many folks were present, to lean into a solo more or dig into the rhythm further. Hopper, though, passed away a few days ago, leaving only Robert Wyatt and Ratledge alive from the classic quartet line up of the group.

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BasilHow Basil Kirchin convinced Columbia Records to release his music is so far beyond my comprehension that even in mentioning it, it gives me heart palpitations. What the composer and percussionist was able to pass off on the megalith can only be construed as some sort of experimental pastiche. I don't like using the term experimental at all, but here, it's the only term that could potentially apply. And while this music is nothing short of fascinating - much like the life that Kirchin led - it really isn't something that one would toss on for pleasure. This is an academic exercise.

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