Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Hard to find Krautrock gem that laid hidden under the detritus for far too long. Typically, archeological digs of this sort turn up petrified shit, yet those fossil feces always seem to get a reissue and a buncha hype. I cannot even list how many “lost classics” are just garbage that settled on the bottom and should have been left there. Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s good. It just means that it’s better than the crap that currently exists. When looking at that “long lost” ratio it’s obviously that you’re looking at something akin to a batting average of a hitter with two broken wrists. Good think this album is actually worth the effort. Zooed out heavy vibes that seem to seep out of a dank Hamburg cellar. Naturlich, this was self-released effort.
I do truly love the Lovin’ Spoonful, but I’ll admit that hearing that fucking “Welcome Back Kotter” theme song really makes me never want to listen to John Sebastian again. But I never really thought he was what the Spoonful was about anyways because the band was full of so much talent. Here’s just one example of someone branching out from the group but not really getting the credit he deserves. It’s a musically diverse affair to which Yanovsky brings his typically great guitar playing and oddball sense of whimsy and humor. For some reason this also seems kind of hard for me to locate when searching for copies. What gives? I thought this would be clogging the dollar bins with all the other Spoonful stuff. And unless you’re a dummy you’ve already bought all of those. Add this to the collection as well. And mail me copies of a sealed original.
Years ago before this blog was long in the tooth, I asked an old buddy if there was anything he thought I should post. Seeing as I had no clue about what the kids are into (still don’t care really), I thought it might be useful to talk to someone, unlike me, who talks to other things besides his cat. And this was one of his suggestions. I’m guessing that the rise of that current crop of Aussie bands makes this a seminal document (I’m only starting to discover all these newish bands that are actually worth listening to and feel stupid for having ignored them for so long). The Saints, the Birthday Party, Lubricated Goat, the Scientists, Radio Birdman, etc. probably all get a bit more press than these fellas but they are just as essential. Good call Ryan.
Might catch some shit for this one, but I could give a fig. I loved this when it came out and I still stand by it. Sure it’s cutesy and the vocals can be cloying but it is a fun summer record that’s the perfect length (probably less than half an hour). I have this dreadful feeling that this summer will be unbearably hot (anything about 75 is too hot for me) so I figure I might as well roll out the summer tunes before it starts to really blaze. I hate to be so superficial and give bonus points for cute band members and all, but I seem to recall their keyboard player/co-singer as being quite a doll. Shit, I’m shallow. Anyways, this is for the people in the mood for good pop. And there ain’t nutthin’ wrong with that.
One of the all-time coolest, hands down. Shagrat, Pink Fairies, Blodwyn Pig, UFO, Motorhead—all names you should know and love. Later period work with the Redbyrds and solo are equally as vital, so don’t let some idiot tell you otherwise. Just about anything this guy’s guitar has graced is worth owning. Psych, punk, metal and everything in between all fall under this guy’s purview. One of the most important guitarists in the last fifty years. You should know this man. If not, time to wise up boyo.
I see thugs every day. Like my students who get “misunderstood” tattooed on their forearm. Or “laugh now, cry later” on their biceps. And you have to love the ubiquitous angel tattoo on the neck (with someone’s birth/death dates, of course). These are my students. I don’t judge. I have tattoos too. But I know some of these kids live the real thug life. Hell, I’ve even had a few offer to beat people up for me or get me some stolen goods. This isn’t that type of thug, although there is a certain sense of brutality to some of their sounds. It’s another Australian gem. Everything I’ve read about this band (which is not all that much) seems to mention the same three bands as points of comparison. Let’s just say that seem extra Lay Zee. And I should know since I’m quite a lazy sod these days. If you want to know who those three bands are I suppose you can let your fingers do the walking and find out on your own. I think it’s better even yet to just give it a listen. And I don’t really think any of those comparisons are that accurate anyways. People, how many things actually sound like Captain Beefheart?
Old bands reuniting are always a dicey endeavor. I’m sure that nearly everyone has been burned by the dream reunion of that band you were a little too young to see at the time and have fetishized to the point that you even considered getting a tattoo of their logo somewhere on your person. Then you see the show. You see how they look like a bunch of balding dads. You rejoice that you didn’t get that tattoo while simultaneously wondering if your favorite group had been replaced by team pinch hitting from the geriatrics ward. This happens far too often as bands never seem to learn that reunions are undoubtedly a risky move that often fails to deliver. Unless you’re talking about delivering some grimaces, which, in that case, some of these bands are hauling a truckload. So what does this all say about this reunion disc. Can it possibly live up to the accolades bestowed upon their landmark Marquee Moon? Can it capture all their intensity of those early bootlegs? No. No to both. But that doesn’t mean that this album, which too often gets sneered at, doesn’t have its attractive qualities. It might be a bit sere and academic at times. I’ll grant the complainers that much, but when considering how badly this could have gone we should just be thankful that we have one more Television album to add to their slim catalog.
I might catch a punch in the face for saying that I like this more than any Husker Du album. But I dare ya. Not to punch me in the face, but to listen to this objectively as possible and see how this is a far superior album than anything H.D. ever did. Sure, you’re missing the smack addled romanticism of Grant, or Greg’s mustachioed weirdness. Just pure Bob here. It’s that consistencies that makes this all worthwhile. Believe me, I was super skeptical when this came out. I wasn’t all that thrilled with some of Mould’s solo outings prior to this, so I was a bit baffled by how quickly this album endeared itself to my heart. Maybe it came out at a certain time a place where I needed to hear an album like this. I can’t explain it. I’m sure plenty of sourpusses will curl up their noses at how this band actually achieved some level of success (remember when you used to see videos off this album?). Fuck those people.
Link Removed (apparently this 20 yr old album is a huge unit shifter and I was bankrupting a company with this post)