Tobacco and his White Fish Tapes

I recently attended some conference which focused on creative non-fiction and journalism. And during one of the panel discussions – this one focusing on music journalism – the youngest member of the assembled writers dove into some discourse about how the wide range of available musics offered up through the internet should help to further blur the lines between genres, if not remove them all together.

Dullard! I exclaimed in my head. People want and need that sort of delineation. That’s why there’re sections at the grocery store or at department stores…or any store. Music isn’t going to devolve into random combinations of approaches. There will, of course, continue to be acts that attempt to reconcile two disparate genres, successfully or not. But there’s still always going to be straight up rock bands and metal bands and blues guitarists. To think otherwise, I believe, is something akin to believing in an egalitarian, utopian society just a few years off.

With all of that figured, though, I didn’t really know where to post this write up of Tobacco’s cobbled together Allegheny White Fish Tapes. Initially coming to geek’s attention as the head moth (or rainbow) of Black Moth Super Rainbow, Tobacco eventually began releasing proper, solo full length material with 2004’s Saves Lives. It wasn’t until the Anticon released Fucked Up Friends that I took note though – I do need to temper all of this by saying BMSR isn’t all that inspirational to me.

But that Anticon disc was easily one of that year’s strongest albums despite it being drowned in the acclaim that Flying Lotus was receiving at the time. And then there was an Animal Collective disc as well, so the likelihood of Tobacco making any in roads in general and or mass popularity wasn’t too likely.

Putting out Allegheny White Fish Tapes isn’t going to change Tobacco’s standing in the music world. Firstly, the disc is an assortment of work from the mid to late ‘90s as the producer and all around musician was in some formative stage of figuring it all out. Secondly, as noisome as Fucked Up Friends was, there’re less beats to hold onto here and certainly more snatches of gurgling feedback that’ll alternately mess up your speakers and your ears.

It’s not a bad disc despite my griping. And while none of it sounds as hip hop related as stuff from Tobacco’s Anticon disc – apart from a few portions of songs like “Oh Shit, Doug” – there’s a great deal of downer, bedroom rock going on here.

 “The Blue Seahorse” has its antecedent in Syd Barret’s basement, but also in the roots of all the NYC anti-folk stuff and what followed it that freeq folk was supposed to encompass. And in fact, there are melodic hints from the song that are even able to evoke the one, real psych album that the Stones made – Her Majesty’s Satanic Request.

But in figuring the alchemy of this single song, none of the remainder of the album can be hashed out. It’s just a mixed bag, but a good one.