Eric's Trip Vs. Wipers; the undefinable Northeast Vs. the defining Northwest

The Onion A.V. Club recently published an article entitled "For Your Consideration" in which they contemplate several seemingly passe' items that they have deemed worthy of reconsideration now that their time has long since passed. Included within that list are the careers of Rick Moranis, Ben Affleck (?!), Norm MacDonald, Gillian Anderson, as well as Ang Lee's Hulk movie, and, most interstingly, Mudhoney's 1991 "Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge" LP.

In their words:
"Mudhoney dragged [music] into the lo-fi outback, replacing the band's former heaviness with a scrappy, scruffy fuzz that embraced garage-pop and psychotropic slop alike."

they go on to say:
"With this decade's garage-rock resurgence already a punchline, there's a severe lack of roughage in the indie-rock diet. It might be a bit early for a full-on grunge revival—duck and cover when that day comes—but the current indie trend of aping the pomp and bombast of classic rock has just about hit the glass ceiling."

Bearing that potentially prescient statement in mind, I was compelled to strike out and listen to some understated pre-grunge from the Pacific Northwest, as well as some pioneering sounds from the other side of the continent, by a band who existed on the periphery of that apparently long dead movement.



A) Eric's Trip - Peter

Eric’s Trip's history is easily available to anyone with fingers and access to Google, for my purposes it is unnecessary to repeat any of it here. Suffice it to say they were an anomaly in the mid-90’s grunge explosion. Dabbling in and having more to do with the Lo-fi scene helmed by Sebadoh/Sentridoh, and carried on (to a lesser extent) by bands like Beat Happening, Pavement, Guided by Voices and the Grifters. They were none-the-less, in many ways, prototypical grunge of their day. Playing fuzzy, simplistic pop punk, soaked in layers of distortion and fuzz, they appealed to college radio nerds and their girlfriends, both generally bedecked in cardigans and horn-rimmed glasses.

A friend bought me their “songs about Chris” 7 inch EP for one of my teenage birthdays. It was in it’s own way a revelation. I enjoyed the smaller, more sonically divergent 4-track experiments. I liked their pseudo-punk songs but found it endlessly fascinating when they made sappy, little song sketches replete with extraneous sounds and well-cultivated tape hiss. They couldn’t match Lou Barlow’s lyrical depth, but when it came to writing catchy little ditties they had the market cornered. That single steadfastly became part of the summer soundtrack, particularly the songs “Hurt” and “Listen”.

As the Sub Pop phenomenon grew, their shows became crowded with jocko types in backwards baseball caps. I personally lost interest in Sub Pop’s prodigious output. Countless micro-genres were activated by the release of a single 7-inch by that highly marketable pseudo-indie. In the case of Eric’s Trip, it was "Never Mind the Molluscs" which celebrated the sugar sweet “Halifax scene” (despite the fact that they were actually from Moncton, New Brunswick) consisting of songs by them, Sloan, and Jale. Eventually, Eric’s Trip fell to the wayside in my mind as I drew away from the well-documented list of bands that inspired them and grew into heavier, uglier sounds.

At some point though, I stopped caring about influences, genres and just about anything that involved the opinions of other people. I just wanted to hear some good, crunchy, sappy pop songs that I could sing along to, the type of songs that would aid in dealing with the type of sadness, disappointment and heartbreak that everyone has to deal with everyday. To that end I sought out this, Eric's Trip's first domestic release, 1993’s “Peter” EP.

This is a sharp and concise (just short of 17 minutes) collection of the type of melodious fuzz that would make Eric’s Trip a standout band of their era. Most of the songs are 2 minute blasts of ultra simple, hooky noise that essentially equate to garage pop. Every element that they would cultivate over the course of a dozen or more albums are present here, from the plaintive, hesitancy of Julie Doiron and Chris Thompson’s vocals, to the band's collective, shambling, entropic racket. This is a band fully formed (true, they had already released various singles and cassette only albums at this point). Although this band fully formed may come off as a band only half formed to the ears of the average “rock” fan. And, in the end, that is the essential beauty of Eric’s Trip, their ability to spew forth freely and indulgently, while failing to invalidate themselves in any way. They write the songs that make the whole world scream and shout ... and cry. That’s why revisiting them years after the fact was so satisfying, they sound fresher now than they did then.

Listen to "Haze" by Eric's Trip on Gone Vs. Gone's "Mild Anxiety" podcast
at
http://mildanxiety.podomatic.com/




B) Wipers - Is This Real?

Wipers were started in Portland, Oregon in 1977 by guitarist, singer, and primary songwriter Greg Sage. They were, in their own way, hugely influential in the Pacific Northwest to many who would go on to define the grunge era. In the 90's multi-platinum acts and would-be indie-rock icons were touting Sage and his band as a seminal punk act of the 80’s. All the while Sage was languishing in relative obscurity while these others were crafting careers from the sound he supposedly created. That would be life for a willful rock n roll outsider. Truth be told most of the material on their debut 1980 debut LP “Is This Real?” is far too raw for most of the public at large, then. And as raw as it may be, most of this material does not really fit into the greater pantheon of punk as it stood in 1980 at the dawn of hardcore. Not aiding their cause was the fact that white bread, working class Portland was not known as a hot bed of progressive noise at that point in time. Essentially the Wipers were floating out on an island all by themselves.

That their sound would become di rigeur for punk rock to come, throughout the 80’s and 90’s across the Pacific Northwest, from Eugene, to Olympia, Seattle and Vancouver, is without debate. It’s a classic story, the Clash stole the sound of the Ramones and made it radio worthy, the White Stripes took what the Gories created before them and became international icons, Nirvana rewrote the Wipers songbook and the rest became history. Now Greg Sage has taken it upon himself to finally reissue the bands earliest (and best) material himself, after years of unauthorized reissues from the likes of Sub Pop and countless European labels.

It isn’t hard to hear the future in this obscure release from 1980. It’s also clear that they were in tune with some of the more pioneering acts of their day, shades of Mission of Burma (more rock though), Husker Du (less hardcore), the Replacements, Naked Raygun, etc. Strange then how they never managed to crack the underground in the same way that each of those college radio sweethearts would. It could very well be that the Wipers (or rather Greg Sage’s) self-imposed Northwestern exile, as well as their failure to ever tour in any significant way, would be the band’s ultimate undoing. In the last few years of the 80’s, had their exposure been greater, they would have been one more band in the glut of post-hardcore acts that would rise to the surface with major label deals and official Nirvana endorsement (i.e. Meat Puppets, Bob Mould, Pixies, Rollins Band, etc.). Instead they’ve become more of a bookish oddity, which is perhaps not such a bad position to be in after 20 years of punk rock.

As heavily as the Wipers influence may read on punk rock to come, their personal influences are hard to read. The Stooges seem to play heavily into the equation, especially in the bludgeoning pace of album opener “Return of the Rat”, the dark, moody drone of their longest song “D-7”, and in the raw emotion and vulnerability of “Potential Suicide”. While one can sense said influence on the Wipers primitive fury, they have a pop edge, a near-jangle, that Stooges stalwarts would normally stray away from. One may want to compare them to contemporaneous English pop driven punks like Stiff Little Fingers, the Buzzcocks and the Jam. Such comparisons seem partly inaccurate though. For one the Wipers seem to favor histrionics (on guitar and vocals) that would play in sharp contrast to the straightforward nature prevalent in the English school of punk. In a tour diary written by Steve Albini during Big Black’s final tour, after a gig with the Wipers, he points out that “they do so much with so little.” Perhaps that is the greatest truth about this band. They take the very basics of rock n roll and make them distinctly their own. It’s their pronounced lack of fear to simply be themselves that would separate them from the ocean of conformity that would, in retrospect, define hardcore and punk rock in the 80’s. Being entirely without context is ultimately the greatest thing for any band. Especially when you stumble upon them 25 years down the road.

Listen to "Mystery" and "Tragedy" by Wipers at Gone Vs. Gone's "Mild Anxiety" podcast
at
http://mildanxiety.podomatic.com/

1/2 Japanese Vs. Mirrors; preternatural punk vs. proto-punk

A) 1/2 Japanese - Loud and Horrible

Half Japanese are true rock n roll icons with a well documented history (up to 2 records a year for nearly 20 years!). It took years for me to develop a relationship with Half Japanese (still ½ on this album). I was fortunate enough to see them at some point in 1993, when I was pretty young, on back-to-back nights. The first night in an over-sized club amidst an under-sized crowd. Then the next night in a smallish cinder block basement. My initial impression? Weird, I didn’t get it. I liked their tour-mates, New York Superchunk-alikes, Sleepyhead. I found them [Sleepyhead] far easier to grasp at that time (they would go on to develop into breezy semi-60’s retro-pop). I may say now that I was fortunate to have had this experience, but it took 5 years to become conscious of that fact. I did not dislike Half Japanese in any way. I just didn’t have enough of a history with music to understand their true significance.

This is the lineup I saw:

I believe this would have been when they were releasing records on Safehouse. I’m not sure if they had toured with Nirvana yet. I just remember what it sounded like (shambling, arty and inept) and what they looked like (old, arty and inept). The first night was about complete confusion. They were performing in a cavernous downtown Pontiac nightclub, known predominantly for post-college techno dance nights. It all came together in my mind the next night, one and a half hours away in a basement in Lansing, watching them play their hearts out while lit by 2 bare bulbs in the ceiling. I liked that they were weird and that they rocked. I sensed some kind of excitement in the crowd, the band and the whole event. It can’t say it reminded me of anything because I had never seen anything like it. On the way home, the feeling I expressed was of bemused approval. "But, man, I really liked that Sleepyhead band." The slighter older, all knowing friend (who I can only assume asked me to come along, on what was clearly his adventure, so I would drive) looked over at me with disapproval.

That entire night was filled with a befuddling sense of wild mystery. That was one of first times I took my parents over-sized black sedan onto one of our nation’s highways. The first time I saw a basement show. Barely aware of what the night may have meant, we drove careening down the highway home, coughing while smoking cigarettes. Lansing seemed an impossible distance. The entire occurence would become a hazy almost forgotten memory. I remained conscious of Jad Fair’s seemingly endless collaborations. But, as I grew into the heavier sounds of the post-hardcore, post-grunge indie-rock of the mid-90’s, the tendency for under-produced jangle, the overly sincere childishness and (what seemed like) the pretentious naiveté of Jad Fair remained solely of peripheral interest.

Then five or six years later someone (I can’t remember who) loaned to me Jeff Feuerzeig’s Half Japanese documentary, “The Band That Would Be King” (which, as chance would have it, was actually filmed around the same time I saw them). As I sat with the girl I was living with at that time, watching this collection of the nerdiest half retarded people extol the virtues of this bizarre, seemingly inept band, it all came flooding back. Oh! I saw these guys once in a basement in Lansing. Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah. She didn’t care. “These guys are real?!” she asked. "Yeah, it's remarkable but they're very real." She was completely charmed and tickled. I was completely intrigued (as much so as when I first learned that the Ramones were real, years after having seen Rock n Roll High School at a cousin's house). I was particularly drawn to a clip of the band on TV at some point in what appeared to be the early 80’s. They were franticly playing some kind of crazed blues. It sounded like the ultimate Velvet's inspired total-noise-freak-out. It had a great, simple chorus, “I know how it feels [long pause] … Bad!”. There were women dancing, or rather flailing about, dressed in cheaply homemade skeleton suits, half attacking the band. One of the band members was throwing this guitar around (Don Fleming of the Velvet Monkees & Gumball). Psychedelic, rainbow wave patterns were green screened onto the background. Remember those inexplicable, freaky deaky, colored oil and light displays they used to project in theaters before the movie started? Or was that just in my neighborhood? Anyway, everything about the clip was was raw and completely unhinged. It was totally harsh, punk and crazy! What era of Half Japanese was this?

As it turned out it the band who originally recorded that song (off of their 1980 “Loud" Lp) were actually called 1/2 Japanese, as the band called themselves at this point in time, when brother David Fair was playing the role of primary song-writer. The band on this record presents an unbridled assault on all that is musical, fashionable, or, to some, well beyond anything sensible. Instead they created a spastic rock record well outside the worlds of punk, new wave, no wave, free jazz, or any brand of avant-garde pretense. This six piece incarnation of the band (2 saxophones, drums, 2 guitars, bass and both brothers on vocals) cultivated an indefinable sound. Skronk before skronk. Crafted around the Fair’s brutally frank sincerity is a collection of crazed (or ½ crazed as the case may be) sonic blasts of retrograde rock n roll. That is to say, this Half [1/2] Japanese are trying to make a sincere rock record (or at least the two Fair brothers are). A heartfelt rock record in the spirit of the heroes of their teenage years spent in Ann Arbor, Michigan enjoying 60’s pre-punk paragons Stooges, MC5 and Destroy All Monsters, alongside a healthy dose of Detroit soul radio.

With their first single, Half Alive, coming out in 1977, you can draw a straight line from the Stooges and MC5, to Half Japanese (check out “Dumb Animals” and “High School Tonight”, respectively), to contemporaneous, self-conscious rock n roll primitives, the Cramps (“Rosemary’s Baby”), to the most sub-moronic psychedelia of the Butthole Surfers (“Baby Wants Music”), and on and on, to any band that would come to cultivate the use of noise, clutter, chaos and serendipity as a distinct part of their general esthetic. Sonic Youth, the Gories, Boredoms, To Live and Shave in LA, Deerhoof, and every other band with a studied chaotic sensibility, owe a dept to the not-so-studied choatic minds of David and Jad Fair. The primary differences between ½ Japanese here and those ostensibly art house acts being the idiot savant-ish nature of 1/2 Japanese's rock n roll sincerity. Realize that their lyrics come from the Buddy Holly, Ricky Nelson, Shaggs school of hyper sappy somance, and one will be forced to face the fact that, while the music Jad and David Fair instigate may call to mind Captain Beefheart and the Velvet Underground at their most sonically brazen, their hearts and minds lie solidly upon the same early American popular music that informed all of those pioneering acts to make their own crazy sounds. And so the cycle continues.

Listen to "Rosemary’s Baby” and “Vampire" off of Loud and Horrible respectively
at Mild Anxiety podcast
http://mildanxiety.podomatic.com/








B) MIrrors - Another Nail in the Coffin

Born in Cleveland, at the heart of the crumbling post-industrial rust pit that gave rise to punk via the electric eels, Rocket from the Tombs, the Dead Boys, the Pagans, and, later on, Pere Ubu and Devo. Rock journalists would describe such a collection of forward minded rockers as vibrant. Anyone who has borne witness to the ascent of a genuinely homegrown, revolutionary music scene knows that, in truth, the genesis of such scenes, the vivaciousness that fan-boys and scribes revel in from a distance, usually stems from a distinct lack of vibrancy in the immediate environment surrounding the few who would give rise to those movements. Whether it be those willing to brave the downtrodden streets of New York’s Bowery district in the early 1970’s, a beer-soaked group of acquaintances in an equally rain-soaked town in America’s Pacific Northwest reveling in the slowed down rhythms of My War era Black Flag, or a small loose-knit group of working class 20 some-things with similar interests in 60’s rock, early blues and vintage equipment, gathering at a teensy club in Detroit’s notoriously crumbling Cass Corridor.

Whether these movements end up in iconic marginalization (the Ramones) or in platinum records (Nirvana, the White Stripes), their beginnings are always strikingly humble. There is an interesting point in the Ramones documentary, End of the Century, where Dee Dee Ramone defines the quintessential CBGB’s experience as being [to him], “20 people barely paying attention while Television played on stage.” In the case of the White Stripes, Detroit’s Gold Dollar, where they famously played a majority of their formative shows, was a tiny, dingy little club, generally crowded with little more than 30 patrons.

Into this ever-growing pantheon of punk heroes and legends enter the band known simply as Mirrors, founding members of punk rock in their own right, yet barely a blip on the radar of the greater history that would follow them. Accounts of Mirrors history are hazy at best. They reputedly played no more than five (or so) shows in their heyday, one of which was the truly historic gathering of Mirrors, the electric eels and Rocket from the Tombs (all for 75 cents!). They began in the early 70’s in tribute to the Velvet Underground. They bore members of the electric eels, and Rocket from the Tombs, eventually morphing into the equally seminal and (not quite as) obscure proto-punk group, the Styrenes. They never released more than a single or two until well beyond the point of their untimely demise. And thus a legend grows. More history is available on the band but the facts seldom become more concrete than; the band was lead by longtime Lou Reed disciple Jamie Klimek (future Styrene), featured various players (including future Pere Ubu member Jim Jones, and future Rocket from the Tombs member Craig Bell) most active of which was Paul Marotta (concurrently of the aforementioned eels, and future Styrenes leader).

That’s about it. Many bitter tales, and vast amounts of conjecture are available for anyone and everyone to Google away. But, for a band who, in their own way, were integral to the birth of punk rock, precious little concrete info stands to prop up their (supposedly) legendary status. Jean Genet wrote “The fame of heroes owes little to the extent of their conquests and all to the success of the tribute.” In the case of Mirrors we (fortunately) have a collection of songs. A posthumous collection of their early 70’s material entitled “Hands in My Pockets”. And this, crudely recorded and hastily thrown together (according to the liner notes), collection of songs produced in London and the Netherlands by a briefly reunited ('84 to '86) and reconfigured group (Marotta, Klimek & drummer Paul Laurence), these are some rockin’, abrasive pop songs filled with humor, wit, and crazy, noisy, psychedelic guitar solos clearly and heavily indebted to Lou Reed’s most sub-primitive guitar freak-outs.

It’s hard to gauge the nature of their 70’s output from this collection. The songs tend to by self deprecating and deliberately quirky. Klimek’s vocals are of the somewhat whiney, off-key variety that would later become a staple for underground bands of the 80’s and 90’s (i.e. the Cure, the Smiths, Dinosaur Jr.). Some of the songs come off as overly complicated (despite their inherent primivitism), with vocal melodies of a sing-song nature that becomes a little annoying as the collection plods on (in particular “I Love Joan”, “To Do We Do” and “Good To Me”). That is not to say that they [the band and the songs] aren’t without their own charms and merits. The influence of vastly influential pre-punks Jonathan Richman and Tom Verlaine is evident all over this, as much as is the hand and heart of aforementioned rock n roll godfather and fake-fag, Lou Reed. These tunes definitely rock but at 26 tracks (damn CD’s !) the whole collection is, beyond a doubt, overly long. Were this collection whittled down to a more appropriate album length (say a dozen or so of the best track), this band would be well beyond reproach. The 5th track on the album, “I Think I’m Falling”, is a classic, with a brilliantly frenzied guitar solo and an undeniably catchy hook, as great as any material written at this point in time (’86) by other similar acts playing driving, pop-conscious rock n roll with a touch of punk (i.e. the Dream Syndicate, Meat Puppets, Husker DU, etc.) but it seems lost in a sea of excess as much of this material wears on the ear of the listener upon inital and repeated listening.

Listen to Mirrors "I Think I'm Falling" on Gone Vs. Gone's "Mild Anxiety" podcast
at
http://mildanxiety.podomatic.com/

Reissues and non-issues; Charalambides vs. a teenage Melvins

Once again, a reissue and a Melvins album. This time things are switched up though. The pattern in each previous listing has been A) a reissue of a now defunct (or not-quite-as-active) group B) new material by an established act of the 80’s/90’s. Instead, in this post I explore a reissue of hard-to-find early material by a newer act, who have only recently come to the attention of the public at large, and a new release of old, otherwise unavailable material by an established band of the past [i.e. the Melvins]. The difference is subtle indeed and it may indeed take a judgmental Internet Nerd to notice but them’s is the facts and I stand by them.


A) the Charalambides – Our Bed Is Green

This album (a double CD) definitely falls into the overly long category. The reason for that being, this is a reissue of what was originally this bands’ ’92 self-released cassette debut. Regularly cited as one of the bands responsible for the current “freak-folk” or “ new weird American” movement. More accurately (at least on this album) the Charalambides are a simplistic, atmospheric, folk pop duo. They seem more attuned to the early 90’s Lo-fi sounds of Lou Barlow’s Sebaboh/Sentridoh, the Mountain Goats, and label-mates Windy and Carl, than they are to the more deliberately psychedelic sounds of Animal Collective, Devendra Banhart, or Six Organs of Admittance. Comparisons are often drawn between their minimalist guitar drones and the abject guitar plucking of fellow Texan Jandek. A comparison which, sonically, may not be entirely off base but the stark beauty that the Charalambides attempt to cultivate play in sharp contrast to Jandek’s alienated scrawlings.

Personally, what seems interesting about the Lo-fi movement of the early 90’s was the fact that it was about completely unrestricted freedom for individual song-writers [Daniel Johnston, Simon Joyner, Lou Barlow, and the Mountain Goats’ John Darnielle] to showcase their song ideas, that while not necessarily fully formed were invariably highly personal and often quite brilliant, in a untraditional non-band context. The Charalambides seem to miss the mark in that respect, as this album seems to be composed primarily of non-descript guitar noodling. It sounds like two people trying to learn their own songs in their bedroom, which, true enough, is what most of this album actually is. The main problem being that, while all of those other groups managed to write great tunes (some of which would later be fully realized, not always to great success, in a more traditional band context) that cultivated the sound of a 4-track as an esthetic all it’s own, the Charalambides sound, on this album at least, consists almost entirely of half-baked song ideas.

That is not to say that there aren’t some listenable songs (or, rather, song moments) on this sprawling collection It’s just that a listener must wade through a sea of half realized tidbits before they are able stumble upon them. In particular, the opening track, “Tea”, has a very nice, atmospheric quality that genuinely reminds one of a lazy afternoon spent sipping tea and playing guitar quietly while gazing out of the window at the outside world. The track, “Faze Her”, which falls very near to the end of the first CD, is also a very nice track that comes off as a more realized, dreamy, psyche-exploration, replete with a noisy, chaotic ending.

The entire collection could certainly have benefited from a little editing. This would be a pretty interesting single 45 minute CD, rather than a hour and a half of, what begins to seem like, senseless guitar jams. I have, honestly, had trouble making it through to the second CD. Perhaps Our Bed is Green would have come across as a more interesting phenomenon in the grunge-ridden early 90’s, when something like this would have seemed to have come from, literally, nowhere (what other Texan act of their day could even compare? Butthole Surfers? Painteens? maybe at certain moments). Maybe back then, listened to over the course of time on a crappy car stereo, it would have all made sense and, perhaps, it would have sounded glorious. But, to the jaded ears of this listener, this collection is somewhat dissatisfying, although it is certainly not awful.

I must add that the Charalambides definitely are an interesting band and their 2006 release, A Vintage Burden, is filled with lush melodies and many moments of genuine beauty that originally drew me into checking out this early collection when it came out. And, while this release may not be the strongest of it's kind, it certainly is a (somewhat) interesting product in the context of the band that they grew into being more than a decade later. Although, I will add that satisfying that kind of intellectual curiosity is certainly not reason enough to purchase this.

listen to Tea by the Charalambides on Gone Vs. Gones “Mild Anxiety” podcast
at
http://mildanxiety.podomatic.com/




B) Melvins - Mangled Demos 1983

So taken was I with the Melvins' most recent Senile Animal release that I was compelled to purchase this oddity when I saw it in a south Texas music store (?). Upon first listen I was amazed by how incredibly raw this album sounds. Any debates as to whether or not the Melvins are, or ever were, a “punk" band were instantly quelled when Mike Patton’s Ipecac label released this collection of what equates to a pre-Melvins (of sorts).

This is a harsh collection of kinetic hardcore performed by Melvins mainstay Buzz Osbourne, with a pre-Mudhoney Matt Lukin on bass and pre-Dale Crover drummer, Matt Dillard, in tow. Not quite as metalized as future early releases for C/Z or Alchemy. This material bears the marks of snotty teen punks (listen to "If You Get Bored" for an honest to goodness example of young punk kid snottiness) who clearly spent much time listening to early hardcore punk rock. If Sabbath and Black Flag’s My War were the blueprint for much of the Melvin’s late 80’s output, Damaged era Black Flag and early Bad Brains seem to have set the template for much of this material (check out the blazing 1 minute jam which simply bears the symbol of a star as a name for a prime example).

Much of this material is pretty decent, slightly less formulaic hardcore. Were it by any band other than the Melvins I would have to admit that it held no interest for me, but it is the Melvins and, as a document of what came before, this is really quite fascinating. Many songs on this collection would pop up on later releases. One song, “Set Me Straight”, would appear over a decade later on their Kurt Cobain produced major label debut, Houdini, albeit in a more slowed down, less rough hewn state. Other tunes like “Snake Appeal” would appear on their C/Z debut “10 Songs” in an even more brutally harsh, uglier incarnation. The anthemic near-stadium rocker, “Forgotten Principles” was released as a single on Tom Hazelmeyer’s (Halo of Flies) Amphetamine Reptile label in the mid-90’s.

What’s even more interesting than the early studio sessions of the album’s first half is the second half of the album were a young band is humanized in a series of recordings which include much teenage bickering and random chattering about hamburgers, beers, bong toking, vodka, puking and the kind of random bullshit that would logically consume much of the practice time of your average teenage rock n roll band growing up as alienated punks in some crap nasty rural town. Nothing can be said of an ill-spent youth here, as this band grew up to be one of the most important bands of the succeeding decade, albeit in an underground, semi-unheralded kind of way. It's genuinely nice to hear an unguarded side of a great band who normaly hold such a stoic unflinching face before their public.

listen to If You Get Bored by the Melvins on Gone Vs. Gone's "Mild Anxiety" Podcast
at
http://mildanxiety.podomatic.com/

Semi-old shit Pt. 2; Wedding Present Vs. Mission of Burma

Slowly moving backwards, once again checking out a late 80's re-issue and some new material by a phenomenal group of the 80’s. I must take a moment to say that I find CD re-issues of older albums frustrating. I like flipping over records. I like listening to side 2 first sometimes. I feel like I get to know an album better by switching up the order in which I listen to it. I feel like CD’s are invariably over-long and I really only get to know the material at the beginning of the album, while tiring by the time I reach the end of an album. With that in mind I begin with:



A) the Wedding Present – George Best Plus

The Wedding Present named their first LP after famous Irish/English football player George Best, bringing to mind fellow English football enthusiasts, Iron Maiden, with whom they have absolutely no other stylistic connection to, and the Housemartins, with whom they do share a rather significant stylistic connection. This CD is a re-issue of that LP with the "Plus" being two early EP’s inserted curiously mid-way through the original sequence of the George Best album. This collection initially seems to fit into the overly long category. Upon repeated listening though this is an incredibly great collection of sappy, jangle-pop songs.

The Wedding Present are always remarked upon for their hyper-fast, frenetic pacing. Anything written about them invariably includes this fact and rock scribes are always careful to point out that their initial success revolved around audiences desire to see if they indeed could play as fast live as they did on record. Many songs on this album are indeed played at an incredible, almost unbelievable, often dissonant speed. In particular “All This and More” and stand-out song “Shatner” are amazing songs played at an uncanny velocity. But there is so much more to the Wedding Present than a band performing fast songs.

With a sound akin to their English predecessors, the Smiths, the Buzzcocks, Joy Division, the Fall and Pink Flag era Wire, the Wedding Present fit nicely into a post-punk mold but came up a little too late to actually be part of that scene. Instead they exist in some grey area between the 80’s/90’s college art rock of Sonic Youth and the Pixies, and a more poppy post-hardcore sound (shades of Shudder to Think, and early Pavement, maybe … maybe). They are definitely punk in their own way, but they are, much more so, a pop group writing really smart hook laden songs about true sadness, heartbreak, romance, betrayal and disappointment.

The perfect soundtrack for all of those moments of heartbreak.

“Every time a car drives past I think it's you

Every time somebody laughs I think it's you
You changed your number and my phonebook's such a mess
But I can't bear to cross your name out yet

Each time the doorbell rings it might be you

Each letter the postman brings might be from you.”
- I’m Not Always So Stupid

listen to the Wedding Present - Shatner & I'm not always so stupid on Gone Vs. Gone's "Mild Anxiety" podcast
at http://mildanxiety.podOmatic.com




B) Mission of Burma – The Obliterati

25 years ago Mission of Burma were touted as one of the most important bands of their day. Their only full length album of that era Vs. is definitely one of the best post-punk albums ever - next only to the Fall’s early singles and Wire’s Pink Flag LP (the latter of which is an oft cited influence on Mission of Burma’s song-writing). Mission of Burma were unquestionably the leaders of the post-punk movement in the US. In Steven Blush’s American Hardcore, Mission of Burma are attributed the credit of being one of a new wave of “arty punk bands” who were instrumental in creating hardcore. The brutal, semi-metal hardcore of fellow Boston bands like SS Decontrol, DYS, the Freeze and Negative FX were (supposedly) a reactionary response to the subjugation of punk rock by art-house acts like Gang of Four and Burma.

This is surprisingly only their 3rd full length release, the 2nd after a hiatus of over 20 years, and it sounds as raw (perhaps rawer) and as inspired as they sounded 25 years ago. The presence of Bob Weston (Volcano Suns, Shellac) as engineer and resident tape manipulator brings a low-end rumble to the songs that they never managed to get on any of their early career recordings.

The opening track, “2wice”, comes on strong with a neo-Zeppelin Bonham-esque ultra simple beat. When the guitar and bass jump in, you’re hit in the face with the sheer power of this band. Aside from the highly superior production values this could be the band that fell off the face of the map 20+ years ago.

The second track, “Donna Summeria”, seems to be a winking nod to contemporary “post-punk” bands that cop disco dance beats and angular guitars as their own new thing. Although this may be a presumptuous statement on my part, as Mission of Burma has been producing this kind of weird angular noise since I was a toddler. I would venture to guess that the name of the song and the seemingly Bee Gees inspired falsetto harmonies come across as some kind of in-joke for a reason, and it doesn’t seem entirely improbable that Burma would make this kind of commentary, whether it be an overt or covert commentary is up to the individual to discern. The dissonant improv segment of this song is particularly inspired.

Every few years Sonic Youth comes out with a new album that is held up as an actually good album. The idea seems to be that if a new Sonic Youth album isn’t entirely boring then, “Hey, Sonic Youth released another album that doesn’t completely suck!”. On a track mid-way through the album entitled “1001 Pleasant Dreams”, Mission of Burma create a rumbling, neo-primitive dirge, that quickly and succinctly encapsulates Sonic Youth’s entire career output since Daydream Nation.

The following track, “Good Not Great”, rocks openly, noisily and concisely (at just over 2 minutes), again proving that Mission of Burma can and have in just 3 albums outdone the entire output of an entire sub-genre of college indie “punk” bands – from the aforementioned Youth, to mid-90’s indie icons like the Grifters, Guided by Voices, Versus, and Fugazi.

Next comes another slow dirge, this time a subtle, beautiful song with stringed accompaniment, simply entitled “13”. Semi-tribal drumming from Peter Prescott, sweet jangle from Roger Miller’s guitar, and thick low end from Clint Connely’s bass, mix with Bob Weston’s intuitive tape manipulations to create a heartbreaking song that once again puts to shame every other band attempting to recreate the sound that Burma has made so distinctly their own, whether they are doing it consciously or unconsciously.

I am not one who jumps onboard with every seminal band that reunites long after their career has passed away. The idea of seeing a Dead Kennedy’s reunion (with or without Jello Biafra) seems entirely unappealing. I was sorely disappointed with the Stooges reunion a few years back at Pine Knob in Clarkston Michigan (which is nowhere near Detroit). I did go see Mission of Burma perform at Irving Plaza, on the first public appearance of their first reunion tour, and it was great. Really great! The band rocked. The crowd was more into the show than damn near any crowd at any show I had seen before. The band themselves were absolutely beaming (although Clint Connely was wearing some strangely disquieting leather pants). You could tell that they knew that they were on it.

Despite the success of that show and the not-quite-as-good show I saw them play with Easy Action (ex-Negative Approach singer, Jon Brannon’s new band) at Detroit’s Saint Andrew’s Hall. I was pretty cynical about their new material. Some things are best left in a state a premature death. Perhaps legendary things only remain so when they are not allowed to rise and either destroy everything they ever built, or contradict everything they ever stood for. If Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin or Jimi Hendrix were still rockin’ today they would be as lame and dried up as Alice Cooper (who’s “Hey Stupid” is truly an abomination of contemporary rock) or any other band who may grace the main stage of your regional State fair. Suffice it to say Mission of Burma will never be performing at your neighborhood fair ground and, if this album is any indication, they will remain a band that all others strive to catch up with (20 years after the fact). Despite my initial apprehensions, or perhaps because of them, I keep on listening to this album while many others have come and gone. I’m now very curious to hear what their previous release, OnoffOn, sounds like.

listen to Mission of Burma - Good, Not Great and 13 at Gone Vs. Gone "Mild Anxiety" podcast
at http://mildanxiety.podOmatic.com

Galaxie 500 vs. the Melvins; or semi-old shit

Recently, having hit a wall of sorts with the contemporary music that I have managed to hear, a conscious decision was made. A decision that one must assume everyone who has been really into music for some time has had to make at some pivotal point in their lives. Each person must, in their continuous personal quest to hear different and interesting sounds, begin to move backwards in time to experience those sounds. It begins slowly with the purchase of some albums (new and old) by great bands of the recent past.


A) Galaxie 500 – Today

RykoDisc re-issue of their first LP and first 7 inch single, both originally released on Boston-area indie label Aurora in 1988. I was a little cynical about this band for a long time. I didn’t take to singer Dean Wareham's post-Galaxie band, Luna. The breathy vocals and neo-Grateful Dead college jangle jam weren’t anything I could wrap my mind around. Because of that band, I really didn’t even want to care about the Galaxie 500.

Also, being a huge Velvet Underground, the fact that they [Galaxie 500] were touted in their day as a resurrected VU seemed unappealing, much like the unbearable crop of contemporary bands laying claim to Joy Division’s unique sound. It’s entirely artifice. Inexcusable, inconsequential stylistic thievery sans the lyrical or sonic depth of either of those brilliant, immortal acts.

Then I got really into the Damon and Naomi with Ghost LP that was released in 2001 by Sub Pop. I received it, listened to it, enjoyed it and quickly shelved it. Recently though I rediscovered it while in a temporary Summer-funk. It was sunny outside and I was down for a stretch of time. A strange combo, sunny skies and downcast feelings … it makes for difficulty in deciding what to listen to. One day I picked up that Damon and Naomi with Ghost LP and played it. That and Big Stars' 3rd/Sister Lover were all I listened to for a while.

That led me to this Galaxie 500 re-issue that I stumbled upon while passing time in a San Francisco music store mid-way through the summer. It was bought knowing that Damon and Naomi were the rhythm section. True it sounds much like a pre-Loaded Velvet Underground. It also treads very closely to the path set before them by Crazy Rhythms era Feelies. But they also perform a really nice, sprawling version of the Modern Lovers “Don’t Let Your Youth Go To Waste” in which Wareham’s wispy, limp-wristed vocalizing really works in tribute to Jonathan Richman’s self-conscious whine.

The first four songs are incredibly solid. The first track Flowers, a swinging mid-tempo pop song with the vocals buried deeply in thick echo. The second track, Pictures, follows in a similar vein but picks up the tempo a little, sounding like a ’69 Velvet Underground outtake. The third, Parking Lot, is the first “rocker” of the album, the production is an astounding blend of garage band lo-fi primitivism and crystal clear psychedelic pop. The fourth track is the aforementioned Modern Lovers cover.

As the album plays out some feelings are confirmed, the album does lag at some point, aspersions cast must be recanted, there is definitely some depth to this stylized band. All in all this is a pretty solid album and even the songs that fall short have some interesting elements. The addition of their reverb soaked jangle-pop first single, Tugboat, makes it worthwhile for that songs beautiful droning, freaked-out simplicity.

listen to Tugboat and Parking Lot on the Gone Vs. Gone "Mild Anxiety" podcast
at http://mildanxiety.podOmatic.com



B) the Melvins – (a) Senile Animal

Born in the 80’s, the Melvins totally ruled the 90’s and have consistently remained innovative, never second guessing themselves. I would like to say that they are the Ramones of the 21st century; unchanged, true to their purpose at every turn, never languishing while continuously remaining just outside of the mainstream. I would like to say that, but they are nothing like the Ramones. They’re the Melvins, and they are an institution onto themselves.

At some point in the early 90’s Kurt Cobain was quoted as saying that “the Melvins are the past, present and future of music”. Interesting that as time wore on that seemed to have become a truism, with their Lysol album opening the doors for a whole future of gloom, noise metal (Sunn O))), Grey Daturas, Growing, etc.), and their Bullhead album kicking off a wave of 70’s metal inspired “stoner” rockers (Kyuss, Queens of the Stone Age, Fu Manchu, Japan’s inspirationally named Boris, etc.). Weirder still that the Melvins hearkened the future of rock, metal, punk, whatever; all while eschewing the virtues of 70’s dinosaurs like Kiss, Fleetwood Mac, the Cars and Alice Cooper.

Now, over 20 years later (‘06), the Melvins are still around re-inventing themselves in the face of everything contemporary. This is their first album as a four-piece, featuring bassist Jared Warren (ex-Karp) and Coady Willis (formerly of Murder City Devils). The stand-out thing about this album is that, after a radical line-up change, the Melvins sound has toned itself down considerably. This is much more of a straightforward rock album, and that may be the Melvins greatest stylistic departure to date. There are few noise freak-outs and no long drones, just some heavy (albeit weird, Melvins-style) rock.

The album is mixed together, much like their recent four-piece live sets, to play as one long song. Or, more appropriately, as a string of song parts that rise and fall between heavy droning metal (a la “Halo of Flies” era Cooper), mercifully short, complex and sincere twin-kit drum jams, blazing frenetic post-hardcore, and strangely uncharacteristic near-pop. The frantic pace of the album, coupled with strange timing and intricately interwoven song parts, make it a difficult album to pick out individual tracks from.

One would have to pay close attention to figure the specific point when various shifts coincide with a new song (rather than a new section of a song), and the nature of this beast is that it pummels the listener into dazed oblivion, not keen attention. Surrender your desire for conventional, popular song structures and favorite sing-a-long parts, rather, lose yourself in an ocean of low-end fury.

Listen to Melvins - A History of Bad Men (which sounds curiously like an update of their mid-90's classic single Night Goat) on the Gone Vs. Gone "Mild Anxiety" podcast
at http://mildanxiety.podOmatic.com