Oblivians – Popular Favorites

Popular Favorites

ObliviansPopular Favorites Crypt Records CR-065 (1996)


The punk movement in the United States took place almost entirely in the north.  Drawing on the primitive rock of Detroit’s The Gories, Oblivians represented probably the south’s best contribution to punk-inspired rock.  Popular Favorites is perhaps the band’s defining statement.  The guitars are loud and crunchy.  The rhythms are relentless.  The lyrics are visceral piss-takes on the travails of a broke working band trying make a living, find romance, come to terms with their place in the world, and maybe also popularize some dance moves.  Everything still sounds great more than two decades after it came out.  The best cuts tend to be those with Greg [Cartwright] Oblivian on vocals.  This album is now out of print but is available for streaming.

Captain Beefheart – Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)

Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)

Captain Beefheart and The Magic BandShiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller) Warner Bros. BSK 3256 (1978)


After a pair of widely panned albums in 1974, a 1975 collaboration, and a few years without any new albums — much of these travails the result of his entire backing band quitting in the face of Stalinist leadership tactics — the Captain returned amidst the punk era with one of his best.  He had actually recorded an entire album (Bat Chain Puller) then lost control of the master tapes as part of a tangentially-related royalty dispute between owners of his label.  He and yet another reconstituted version of The Magic Band then re-recorded some of the tracks, and some completely new ones, for a different labelBat Chain Puller tracks omitted from Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller) showed up in later re-recordings on Doc at the Radar Station and Ice Cream for Crow.

Anyway, Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller) is something of a summary of many things the Captain had been doing in the 1970s along with a few new hot takes.  The delivery is slicker, but, surprisingly, that generally works for rather than against the music.  The album opens with “The Floppy Boot Stomp,” which signals that it was going to draw from the sort of idiosyncratic music that the Captain had been making in the Trout Mask Replica and Lick My Decals Off, Baby era but had abandoned in recent years.  But the second cut, “Tropical Hot Dog Night,” channels Jimmy Buffett (and maybe also Flowmotion) in service of a statement of hesitant yet macho sexuality — a song reprised decades on by PJ Harvey as “Meet Ze Monsta.”  A latin flavor later reappears on the song  “Candle Mambo” too.  This version of The Magic Band includes a brassy horn section that is somewhat unique, given that other recordings leaned more on woodwinds than brass.  “Suction Prints” even sort of resembles punk — the first part of the song has a rhythm not too far off from Iggy Pop and The Stooges‘ hardcore punk B-side “Gimme Some Skin.”  “Harry Irene” is a kind of ironic/nostalgic cabaret song (compare cuts like “Jean the Machine” and “Joe” on Scott Walker‘s ‘Till the Band Comes In).  Sure, in “Owed T’ Alex” and “Apes-ma” (the one track held over from the original sessions), there are a few throwaway tracks here.  But for the most part this album is great from top to bottom.

So how does this compare to the aborted Bat Chain Puller album (eventually released in 2012) this originally replaced?  Well, in a way the original is even better — a little rawer, sparer and unified while still in territory that seems uncharted.  But the Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller) incarnation replaces prominent keyboards with its horn section that adds a new dimension, and the caribbean flavor of “Tropical Hot Dog Night” was completely absent on the original recordings.  And the original lacked a song quite that good.  The general eclecticism and fullness of the re-recordings is also something different and an asset in their favor.  So maybe the new version of the album is better?  Frankly, it is pointless to pick a favorite between Bat Chain Puller and Shiny Beast because they are both great.  Beefheart fans are going to want to hear both (although the original recordings were officially released in 2012, they fell out of print quickly).

Captain Beefheart – Bluejeans & Moonbeams

Bluejeans & Moonbeams

Captain Beefheart and The Magic BandBluejeans & Moonbeams Mercury SRM 1-1018 (1974)


Captain Beefheart released two album in 1974 on the Mercury label in the US and the Virgin label in the UK: Unconditionally Guaranteed and Bluejeans & Moonbeams.  They both ventured into MOR (mainstream oriented rock) territory.  Most Beefheart fans are appalled by both of these albums.  The problem is that Beefheart had released some of the most inventive and abstract rock ever recorded.  His turn toward smoothed-over commercial pop-rock is not something music snobs ever accept.  On the one hand, Unconditionally Guaranteed is pretty dull, save for bits of a few tracks (“Peaches,” etc.) with horn sections that seem like less energetic versions of material off 15-60-75‘s Jimmy Bell’s Still in Town (1976).  A clear parallel to the album’s overall turn toward mediocre conventions is CAN’s Out of Reach (1978). Unconditionally Guaranteed was recorded by the same Magic Band lineup that had worked with Beefheart for many years.  They all quit after finishing the album.  So Bluejeans & Moonbeams was recorded with any entirely new backing band.  Some fans give the new band the derogatory nickname “The Tragic Band”.  But all this is a bit wrong.  Bluejeans & Moonbeams is a pretty decent album.  Sure, it bears no resemblance to Trout Mask Replica.  But so what?  If this had been released under a new band name rather than being credited to “Captain Beefheart and The Magic Band” it seems likely many who hate it would have an entirely different opinion.  In other words, the problem here is one of expectations.  While this is definitely not one of the Captain’s best, with an open mind this fits comfortably alongside bluesy MOR rock of the mid-70s.  This is definitely not a bad album — the same cannot really be said for Unconditionally Guaranteed.  If you expect new frontiers to be crossed you will be disappointed by this.  But ask yourself first whether such expectations are appropriate.

I Want More: A Guide to the Music of CAN

This is a guide to the music of CAN.  Releases are divided into full albums, miscellany (mostly archival, soundtrack, and outtake collections), and non-album singles, with each section arranged chronologically by recording date.  Other resources — books, films, a soundtrack filmography, and web sites — are listed at the end.


A Brief Introduction:

CAN was formed in the late 1960s in Köln (Cologne), in what was then West Germany.  The band approached rock and pop music with sort of an outsider’s perspective, very much the way pianist/composer Cecil Taylor approached jazz in a unique way from the standpoint of formal training in modern classical music.  There was a tacit affinity in their worldview to the so-called “New Left” movement of the late 1960s.  The band is also cited as a pillar of the “krautrock” movement that sought to reconstruct a new German cultural identity following the defeat of the Nazis by the Soviet Union and allied powers — most of the band members grew up knowing former Nazis.  They did not want to sound like other pop music.  The band’s music draws influence and comparisons to electronic “new music” composers like Karlheinz Stockhausen and the chance music of John Cage, rock bands like The Velvet Underground, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, The Jimi Hendrix Experience and Sly & The Family Stone, the vamping funk rock of James Brown, and dub reggae from the likes of producer Lee “Scratch” Perry.  While band members had great familiarity with jazz, they either couldn’t or didn’t want to play jazz.  They did not work with outside producers or even record in commercial recording studios, instead forging their own path in a do-it-yourself way in which they maintained control over all aspects of their recordings.  Always something of a cult phenomenon, CAN remained critical darlings.  Curiously, or maybe not so much, the band’s audience has primarily been male.  Anyway, even nearly a half-century later the band’s music sounds stunningly fresh and impressive.

Original members Irmin Schmidt, Holger Czukay and David Johnson came from backgrounds in modern classical music, each having studied at Darmstadt with Karlheinz Stockhausen.  Drummer Jaki Liebezeit came from a background in jazz, departing a position in Manfred Schoof‘s band after deciding that the scrupulous avoidance of a rhythmic pulse in free jazz was too constraining.  Guitarist Michael Karoli was a former student of Czukay’s who gave up studying law to be a musician instead.  Schmidt was a working conductor and composer who visited New York City where he was introduced to underground rock and the pop art scene.  He returned to West Germany inspired, and with Czukay committed to starting a rock band.  Johnson soon departed as the band pursued more of a focus on rock than pure avant-garde electronics.  Malcolm Mooney was an American traveling the world under the alias Desse Barama to try to avoid being drafted into the military during the Vietnam War, and ended up connecting with CAN partly out of confusion — he wanted to find a visual artist’s studio but ended up in a musical studio.  Although not intending to be a singer when he arrived in Germany, and having no real experience as such, Mooney helped the band coalesce its unique syncretic approach to music with a strong sense of rhythm.  Anxiety about returning to America and being drafted eventually necessitated Mooney’s departure.  He was soon after replaced by “Damo” Suzuki.  An anarchist by disposition, Damo had left home dissatisfied with Japanese culture through a connection with a pen pal in Sweden.  He had made his way to Germany where he frequently busked on the streets of Cologne and also was involved in a theater orchestra/band.  Holger Czukay encountered him on the street and invited him to sign at a concert that evening, with no rehearsal.

Most band members came from a middle-class backgrounds (in one case more upper class).  This gave them access to unique opportunities and allowed them to overcome obstacles that would have caused the demise of other bands.  For instance, Damo was very nearly deported before Irmin’s connections to West German state radio lead to a high-level government intervention that allowed Damo to remain.  Another sometimes overlooked aspect of the band’s history is that they formed in the wake of the so-called West German “Economic Miracle,” which partly stemmed from the Marshall Plan but was primarily a function of the USA forgiving WWII debts and using West Germany (and Japan, and later South Korea) as special economic development zones — something explicitly and purposefully denied to the UK and France.  In that climate of economic abundance there were funds and materials floating around for artistic projects.  The band maintained a very collective approach to music-making.  Everyone’s contributions were considered at an equal level.  There was no band hierarchy or designated leader.  Compositions, production and similar efforts were credited to the entire band regardless of specific individual contributions.  They also exactly equally shared band income, at least once Hildegard Schmidt became manager.

Achieving modest popularity in West Germany and the United Kingdom, they had some minor commercial success with recordings but had only one regional “hit” song with “I Want More.”  As the 70s rolled on, new members Rosko Gee and Reebop Kwaku Baah (both formerly of Traffic) joined in.  Czukay left the band by the end of 1977.

The band formally split up in 1979.  Irmin Schmidt then founded Spoon Records, and, via a distribution arrangement with Mute Records, CAN recordings are now more available than ever.  A few archival releases dribbled out in the early 80s, as well as some compilations.  A reunion instigated by originally vocalist Malcolm Mooney happened in the late 80s that lead to a new album.  A few additional reunion recordings of individual songs and sporadic reunion concerts took place too.  The former band members mostly pursued solo and other new musicals projects, and often collaborated.



Legend:

Continue reading “I Want More: A Guide to the Music of CAN”

Anthony Braxton – Six Compositions (GTM) 2001 | Review

Six Compositions (GTM) 2001 album cover

Anthony BraxtonSix Compositions (GTM) 2001 Rastascan Records
BRD 050 (2003)


One of the best of Braxton’s ghost trance music (GTM) recordings.  At over three-and-half hours in length, originally spread over four CDs, this is yet another mammoth collection of music.  The opener, “Composition 286,” is the clear highlight.  Blending nods to classic jazz with skronky fee jazz solos, this species of GTM offers the best of both worlds.  The characteristic pulsed rhythms of GTM are fully present but leavened with lots of individualized contributions and less of a mechanical adherence to unison group statements.  It demonstrates the flexibility of GTM.  That track might actually be one of the best places to dip a toe in the waters of GTM.  It is massive unto itself, clocking in at over 90 minutes (spread across four parts and two CDs).  Basically it is, alone, a symphonic-length piece.  “Composition 277” and “Composition 287” continue on in a similar vein without hitting the brakes. These first three compositions, which make up three-quarters of the entire collection, pack quite a punch.  The crispness of the studio setting captures every detail while allowing for crystal clear moments of silence that enable the performances to breathe.

The last CD of the original release does disappoint, however.  “Composition 278” may add some variety but its lethargic pace has the effect of bringing the proceedings to a halt.  “Composition 289” does little to improve the situation.  The closer, “Composition 195,” a duet between Braxton and guitarist John Shiurba, offers only a marginal improvement.  What the last three tracks demonstrate is that GTM struggles to succeed with small combos, and sometimes fares better with a larger combo or ensemble.  Although, other small combo recordings like GTM (Syntax) 2003 and Composition N. 247 disprove that notion, and suggest instead that the real problem here is that with small combos the music has to have a greater density than the fairly sparse approach used here.  At most, these last few tracks, “Comp. 195” in particular, offer a kind of granular exposition of the basic elements of the music, but the results come across as fairly pedantic.  Still, if listeners experience this collection by skipping the last disc or treating it as featuring mere bonus tracks, they are left with a whole lot of impressive music.

Mary Halvorson – Code Girl

Code Girl

Mary HalvorsonCode Girl Firehouse 12 FH12-04-01-027 (2018)


Mary Halvorson is one of those musicians who refuses to stand still.  Code Girl is yet another wide-ranging album — this time a double album.  She is now drawing more heavily from pop music.  The album’s production is not the sparse, “live” style that drove some of her excellent earlier albums like Saturn Sings and Meltframe.  Instead there are effects and a rich, streamlined polish that recalls efforts to combine pop/rock recordings with jazz by Colin Stetson or on Matthew Shipp‘s New Orbit, and at times the wistful 1980s recordings of Sonny Sharrock (Guitar).  To the extent that jazz fusion is an appropriate descriptor for some of this, Tim Berne‘s bands with guitarist Marc Ducret make a decent reference point.  Trumpeter Ambrose Akinmusire channels the calm, reflective style of Bill Dixon now and then.  One striking feature of this particular band is the presence of Amirtha Kidambi on vocals.  Her singing is reminiscent of Asha Puthli‘s on Ornette Coleman‘s Science Fiction but with more of the tone (and vibrato) of Wendy Lewis on The Bad PlusFor All I Care.  If all this seems like too many comparisons, it is enough to respond that Halvorson’s band displays an awareness of lots of different music, drawing bits and pieces without becoming beholden to any of those influences.  The resultant music of Code Girl is uniquely its own while still revealing a connection and affinity to what has come before, even if its historical reference points remain mostly off the beaten path.

In a way, Code Girl seems like a good first crack at integrating more pop elements into music that still retains influences from abstract jazz — the structure of many of these compositions still overwhelmingly show the influence of Anthony Braxton.  But Kidambi doesn’t seem like quite the right vocalist, her vocal tone too prim and proper and her bel canto vibrato seeming less fitting than, say, sprechgesang.  Halvorson herself sounds great, of course.  She’s as good as ever switching on a dime from clean, virtuoso single note runs (like Jim Hall, Joe Pass, etc.) to distortion-laden improvised riffs (like Wata of Boris).  In a way, American musicians of Halvorson’s generation are steeped in a digitized, computerized environment that permits a very casual acceptance of chopped up and reconfigured bits with leaps and juxtapositions accepted as a matter of course.

As good as this is, the double album as a whole can seem a bit scattered and uneven, though it would also be difficult to say that any particular songs are failures.  While Code Girl can’t quite match Halvorson’s Away With You (arguably her best album to date), it is a welcome confirmation that she has more new ideas and plenty of adventurousness to spare.  Here’s hoping that she can fine tune the approach of Code Girl in the future.

Nicole Mitchell – Mandorla Awakening II: Emerging Worlds

Mandorla Awakening II: Emerging Worlds

Nicole MitchellMandorla Awakening II: Emerging Worlds FPE Records FPE 012CD (2017)


Opens with the excellent “Egoes War,” which is an extended percussive workout with some interesting electric guitar snippets, sort of in the vein of Sun Ra‘s afro-futurism.  From there things devolve into banal identity politics-based third world-isms and naval-gazing noodling drawn from the AACM and the Art Ensemble of Chicago.  It picks up with “Listening Embrace,” which is reminiscent of early Julius Hemphill, and “Staircase Struggle,” with its in-your-face sung/spoken vocals.  On the whole this album is a bit hit-or-miss.

Anthony Braxton – 19 [Solo] Compositions, 1988 | Review

19 [Solo] Compositions, 1988

19 [Solo] Compositions, 1988 (1989)


Some of Braxton’s 1980s albums, especially those recorded in the studio, have a cold, clinical, and sterile feel characteristic of the era.  Looking back, recording techniques common in that time period often detracted from his music.  This album, recorded live at concerts in two cities over the span of roughly a week collects solo performances.  The recordings are raw and unaffected by studio effects or modifications — so raw that you often can noticeably hear Braxton taking breaths breaths as he plays.  What you end up with is a smattering of songs from Braxton’s past career, plus some standards, all performed with intensity and fervor, and free of anything standing between the listener and the performance.  Looking at the songs present, this is an album that, in some ways, offers a kind of summary of a few of his interests to date.  As solo saxophone performances, there is only a single line to follow, making this feel like a less demanding listen, even though Braxton holds back nothing from the performances.  Though some find this a bit cold, I don’t, or at least I don’t mind its lonely, isolated feel.  Though there is a quality a bit like hearing a talented street busker in some ways.  There are many solo recordings scattered throughout Braxton’s catalog and many are are quite rewarding, some even more than this one.

Mary Halvorson – Meltframe

Meltframe

Mary HalvorsonMeltframe Firehouse 12 FH12-04-01-021 (2015)


Mary Halvorson is one of the most talented guitarists of her generation.  Her approach might be compared to that of Bill Frisell.  Both guitarists have eclectic interests, a generous spirit towards collaborations, penchants for odd — almost contrarian — improvisations, and a willingness to employ distortion.  However, especially in his later years Frisell has gravitated toward a pastoral Americana in his work that can come across as sedate and complacent.  Halvorson, on the other hand, is much more willing to dabble in dissonance and incongruous leaps.  That is to say, Halvorson sounds like Frisell turned up to eleven, with a more adventurous sense of composition.

Meltframe is a collection of solo guitar cover versions of generally lesser-known jazz tunes. For the most part, this is yet another tremendous album from Halvorson.  She opens the set with a ragged, willfully jagged and loud take on Oliver Nelson‘s “Cascades.”  Then there is “Cheshire Hotel” by the French guitarist Noël Akchoté, a sometimes collaborator with Halvorson, with a sort of pop derived melody and an emphasis on rhythmic reverb.  Duke Ellington‘s “[(In My)] Solitude,” probably the most widely known composition to appear here, is played with a solemn yet sensitive emotional palette — another of the disc’s highlights.  Carla Bley‘s “Ida Lupino” gets an acoustic treatment, recasting the tune’s tender, nostalgic sympathies for a charismatic female actor/director fading from view by newly emphasizing a kind of scrappiness.  The album does drop off toward the end, with compositions that impress much less and performances that only occasionally spark interest.  So the album is a tad uneven, but most of what is here is good-to-great.