MRR #268
August 1, 2005
Not Great Men...NOT!
The thought of my idols (pre-, punk, and post-) pushing-50, getting up on stage and trying to deliver the goods seems hardly a wise idea, but with the exception of the totally overrated and not godhead in the least Pixies reunion, there’s been a heckuva lot more than mere competence or mid-life crisis wanking – there’s been downright inspiration and second coming (Metal Urbain, Mission of Burma, Rocket From The Tombs). The last few months worth of Reunite on ice have managed to keep both ends burning and then some. First came Slint, a band that barely toured in their heyday of 15 years ago, and probably more of an influence than a band of any measurable popularity at their height. They played virtuously with a heightened sense of dynamics, fueled by Britt Walford’s amazing drumming, that brought majesty to the din of pre-post rock pre-grunge post-pigfuck scrawl - even as their lead singer Brian McMahon studiously stood off to the side and practically read his vocals.
When Slint first made the scene back in the latter '80s, I was caught up in the whole Sub Pop and Amphetamine Reptile thing, with occasional forays into bands like Drunks with Guns and Lazy Cowgirls. Pavement was in my consciousness if only because Slay Tracks was being sold (for less than $2 !) through Blacklist (an MRR loosely affiliated mail order record thing) where I sometimes volunteered, but they were hardly a force of any sort at the time.
I sneezed when Tweez first came out on Jennifer Hartman. Even when Touch and Go reissued it, while I bought the CD, I hardly gave it the obligatory listen. Similar with Spiderland. They sat in my stacks for a pretty long time before their majesty ever graced my stereo. I never even made the Slint connection with Squirrel Bait or Ethan Buckler's band King Kong, both of whose records I had (tho again, never took the time at the time to absorb in any capacity other than enjoying their great cover art). I do remember, on my friend Ken Katkin's recommendation, buying 5 or so copies of the first King Kong 7" directly from Ethan (still got his handwritten letter) in its original pre-Drag City pressing.
I vaguely remember through the 90's when I finally gave the 2 Slint releases a spin or two, concluding only that Spiderland was better than Tweez and that the vocals were a little Albini-esque, but really that's about it.
Why did I not get it at the time? Or anytime after, at least for a long time? Ken tipped me off on this Slint reunion and so did my friend Dan Vallor, whose tastes in the pop domain always ran with mine (Sneakers, Big Star, Game Theory) but had a penchant for NZ Dead C-isms that we never explored together. However, since I pretty much only go to see band reunions (pre-past the point of no return) these days, I obliged to go check them out.
First, dragging out the old CD's I was instantly blown away by the crystalline and powerful Spiderland. While exhibiting some elements of what was happening at the time, It wasn't till the drive up to the city with Dan and Shannon that I heard Papa M for the first time, Dan playing me their wonderfully lowkey version of the Misfits' Last Caress.
It was Wednesday night, the first of three Slint shows in SF. The Thurs and Friday shows sold out immediately, with the wednseday show prepended after that.
Unfortunately, Faun Fables were the opening band. How horrific this sister bad hippy duo were, with their bandanas and overalls and bad dancing and sprout-laden shite. This was a worse bill than the Carmaig De Forest/Television lineup a couple years ago at the same club. Carmaig was about as much a warmup for Television as the log lady is a prelude to sex. They should have been playing du Nord on Vegan Night. It's as if the Indigo girls were trying to go underground, but not so deep that you could no longer hear them.
I'd already been tipped to Slint's live show via Ken's review earlier in this blog.
When Slint first made the scene back in the latter '80s, I was caught up in the whole Sub Pop and Amphetamine Reptile thing, with occasional forays into bands like Drunks with Guns and Lazy Cowgirls. Pavement was in my consciousness if only because Slay Tracks was being sold (for less than $2 !) through Blacklist (an MRR loosely affiliated mail order record thing) where I sometimes volunteered, but they were hardly a force of any sort at the time.
I sneezed when Tweez first came out on Jennifer Hartman. Even when Touch and Go reissued it, while I bought the CD, I hardly gave it the obligatory listen. Similar with Spiderland. They sat in my stacks for a pretty long time before their majesty ever graced my stereo. I never even made the Slint connection with Squirrel Bait or Ethan Buckler's band King Kong, both of whose records I had (tho again, never took the time at the time to absorb in any capacity other than enjoying their great cover art). I do remember, on my friend Ken Katkin's recommendation, buying 5 or so copies of the first King Kong 7" directly from Ethan (still got his handwritten letter) in its original pre-Drag City pressing.
I vaguely remember through the 90's when I finally gave the 2 Slint releases a spin or two, concluding only that Spiderland was better than Tweez and that the vocals were a little Albini-esque, but really that's about it.
Why did I not get it at the time? Or anytime after, at least for a long time? Ken tipped me off on this Slint reunion and so did my friend Dan Vallor, whose tastes in the pop domain always ran with mine (Sneakers, Big Star, Game Theory) but had a penchant for NZ Dead C-isms that we never explored together. However, since I pretty much only go to see band reunions (pre-past the point of no return) these days, I obliged to go check them out.
First, dragging out the old CD's I was instantly blown away by the crystalline and powerful Spiderland. While exhibiting some elements of what was happening at the time, It wasn't till the drive up to the city with Dan and Shannon that I heard Papa M for the first time, Dan playing me their wonderfully lowkey version of the Misfits' Last Caress.
It was Wednesday night, the first of three Slint shows in SF. The Thurs and Friday shows sold out immediately, with the wednseday show prepended after that.
Unfortunately, Faun Fables were the opening band. How horrific this sister bad hippy duo were, with their bandanas and overalls and bad dancing and sprout-laden shite. This was a worse bill than the Carmaig De Forest/Television lineup a couple years ago at the same club. Carmaig was about as much a warmup for Television as the log lady is a prelude to sex. They should have been playing du Nord on Vegan Night. It's as if the Indigo girls were trying to go underground, but not so deep that you could no longer hear them.
I'd already been tipped to Slint's live show via Ken's review earlier in this blog.
Most anticipated was the Gang of Four reunion at the Fillmore San Francisco...first of a two night stand. I'd last (and only ever) seen 'em before back in '82, Songs of the Free tour at the Ritz, with the Bush Tetras and Certain General opening (a quantum leap from REO Speedwagon, the previous show I'd been to). Soft spot was their Yellow EP, being the first non-MOR/AOR record I’d bought at the time, and secondly (and thirdly and so on), their “Entertainment!” LP with its tribal drumming and raining shards of guitar and sardonic vocals never failed to drop off my top 10 through all my post-adolescence pre-menopausal gyrations. Apparently still on the minds of the old timers around these parts had been their memorable gig with the Buzzcocks back in ’79.
Gang of Four came out swinging, singer Jon King in Mao outfit (somehow unbuttoned at the bottom to expose his belly button), Andy Gill still looking dapper. Dave Allen and Hugo Burhnam looked a lot less gawky than they did back the day – Allen looked like a grunge rocker. King was like Brian Ferry gone mad: histrionic and self mocking, literally running across the stage, writhing on the ground, shimmying, in a manner not at all befit of a grown man. Their playing was wound so tight they teetered precariously on the brink of having it all fall down, they on a perfect tightrope. Never mind post-punk, the four were as first generation punk as it gets. What’s god got to do with it when you have Gang of Four?
Then, beyond what could have been fathomed. The rebirth of the band Zolar X who find themselves 26 years after their breakup at a club in the armpit of the bay area, San Jose. However, among the skate punks were fans so fervent that fists shook at every faint smile put forth by the trio of aliens that comprise Zolar X. Former lead singer Zory Zenith being still in jail, Ygar Ygarrist now leads the songs with trademark munchkin-esque vocals. While last year’s “Timeless” reissued Zolar X in all their recorded glory, their live beings are altogether another matter, capable of generating tremendously heavy sound. They glam you not. Their sound is as original as past present future can be moving truly through a time continuum. The Sabbath reference in their press release is now discernible, the playing is pretty furious…never thought of these guys as punk, but look past the spandex and platinum wigs and the spockisms and the punk is there staring you right between in the ears. So very non-rusty, these guys got chops up the mutton and must be followed slavishly and revered wherever fine noise is purveyed. This mighta seriously been the best reunion of 2005 so far.
Jumpin for Pills
Had no idea that power poppers (and once half of Blondie) Clem Burke and Gary Valentine ever did time with the Ig, but it’s true. Back in ’81, these clean cut boys provided rhythm for Iggy Pop’s depraved leanings on his Party tour. Iggy Pop – “Live in San Fran 1981” is the document, recently released on DVD by Target Video. Mini-skirted. gap toothed, slightly junked and post-peanut butter, Iggy’s still manages to outcool the cool, tho this was sort of a down period for him. Right around the time he started work on his autobiographical “I Need More” book, along with being branded the Godfather of Punk, maybe he was already thinking he was in the twilight of his career.
“Fuck You Up and Get Live” is The Dwarves live DVD filmed at NYC’s Continental Club. Their legendary 15 minute sets of mayhem have devolved into sorta tongue in cheek cabaret middle age wanking played as goddamn tightly as staccato everything can possibly be, but the kids just love it. They are the stuff of which girls go wild and drop their tops, you get the picture. The video extras on this are bids…“Over You” is barely recognizable Dwarves, weird slick power pop whose edge has been beveled to pointlessness.
The Shit Dogs were most aptly described as punk-freaks, chubby flabby frizzy haired goofballs whose visual sense of humor bordered on the absurd: picture a cantaloupe with a pair of sunglasses on it, pseudonyms like “Wheelie Boodtongue”: they were hardly fashion plates or cock rockers or poseurs, they were barely recognizable as icons of punk. The first 45 is more imaginative with their own interpretation of punk prototyped, sometimes hard rocking, sometimes garagey, whereas the second 45 is more straightforward trios chord punk with the exception of the pseudo reggaed “Can Opener” that devolves into an art rant hard rock workout. Completists note that this comp omits the b-side of the second 45, as it also does parts of their 1983 LP. Their LP was a little more wide ranging, less focused, arty in a good way, loosely guitar-ed noodling, but then there’s the set of searing crunchers: “Cockroach” is their answer to “I’m a bug”. A must own for any sicko.
Far more polished but no less ridiculously named is Tot Rocket and the Twins, also comped by Rave Up for the “Television Rules” LP anthology. Also from the class of ’79 or so, these pretty boy guitar heroes cop Graham Parker’s “Nobody Hurts You” on their first 45 “Reduced”, then peel off a hot harmonica solo on the b-side, so where can it go from there? Anthemic guitar licked bids for getting laid on a regular basis and lotsa blow, it’s competent enough bordering on skinny tie but somehow not punkly so inspiring, at least in a killed by deathly way. For the evil twins of fans of Greg Kihn.
Fearless Leader’s “Little Devil” 45 was one of my faves of the latter ‘80s, a grinding little punk platter. Believed to be related to the Lazy Cowgirls or so the rumor went. “God Bless The Devil” is a disc full of previously unreleased stuff that was recorded much later in their career (1997). While the first half of the disc has less economic workouts (“Gotta Get My Shit Together”) the second half (songs like “Toxic Crotch” and “Move a Little”) are in the good time punk vein of the aforementioned 45. As to their relationship to the Cowgirls, well there is a “Clark” in the songwriting credits, which I’d take to be Alan Clark, the Cowgirls’ drummer, as there is also a “Wahl”, which is probably he of Clawhammer, but since the band members all have pseudonyms and don mock satanic makeup, the actual working members remain unknown. Life changing, no, but it makes the beer go down easier.
The Korps was the abbreviated (both in name and personnel) result of supergroup The Afrika Korps. The Kenne Highland/Ken Kaiser duopoly did just one and only record “Hello World!” as theirlittleoleselves, reissued here on CD by Gulcher (the home of Kenne’s earlier band The Gizmos.) Less obnox than the A. Korps, but still with plenty of the beer swillin’ ha ha, plus goodly sums of ye olde adolescent pangs of the big L. Whoever sequenced “Designs on You” (“Ain’t got no designs on you/If you think I want you you’re a fool”) right next to “Mad at the World” (“I’m mad at the world/Cos I can’t get a girl), just juxtaposed the two most opposing teenaged crazed girl thoughts. I also loved the doo woppy song about the “Blizzard of ’78” (which kept yours tru in high school till July if I recall correctly). Slightly touching, bordering on thuggish adolescent laughabilly, garagely satisfying.
