MF DOOM – Operation: Doomsday.

Operation: Doomsday

MF DOOMOperation: Doomsday. Fondle ’em FE-86-CD (1999)


MF DOOM (born Daniel Dumile) is an English born rapper who got his start in the music business under the name Zev Love X in the hip-hop group KMD.  But his brother and bandmate Subroc was killed in a car accident and — at the same time — the band was dropped by its label.  KMD disbanded.  After working open-mics and the like, Dumile re-emerged as a solo act under the MF DOOM name.  His solo debut album was Operation: Doomsday.

His type of hip-hop zigged while commercial hip-hop zagged.  Some call this “backpack rap”, in reference to its appeal to music nerds listening with headphones on trains and buses (while wearing a backpack) — not the sort of music intended for dancefloor play “in da club”.  It was a resolutely indie/underground phenomenon initially, but eventually rose to prominence through the likes of Kanye West.  MF DOOM achieved great success himself years later with his collaboration with Madlib, Madvillainy.

The samples used on the album draw heavily from late 70s jazz fusion and smooth R&B, through 80s smooth jazz.  There is also extensive use of superhero cartoon samples.  The MF DOOM character is based on the “Dr. Doom” character from Marvel comics, and there are many samples related to that character woven through the album in a series of skits.  The musical sources for the samples represented — mostly — passé stuff among the audiences listening to hip-hop at the time.  Though the superhero cartoon references were semi-established via the Wu-Tang Clan, particularly Ghostface Killah‘s persistent use of samples related to Mavel’s Iron Man character in his solo recordings around the same time.  DOOM’s rapping tends toward long, dense verses delivered with a kind of lackadaisical drawl.  In concert, he later took to wearing a metal mask based on a prop from the movie Gladiator (2000), released the year after Operation: Doomsday.  He had already performed in more improvised masks leading up to the release of his debut album.

A useful reference point, from outside hip-hop, is Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti.  Both draw from the music of their youth, especially the leftovers of media of the past that have lost most of the symbolic representation of cultural sophistication they once carried.  But the similarities largely end there.  While Pink uses a reverent/irreverent approach, MF DOOM instead builds a kind of protective cocoon of wounded cynicism.  He hides behind a mask and pseudonym, drawing from childhood cartoons/comics to construct a supervillain character.  As many have noted, this might be seen as a self-defense mechanism after Dumile’s personal traumas of the early/mid-1990s.  It also tends to close off and protect its innocence from corrosive outside forces of the adult world.  The invocation of a supervillain character rather than a superhero one is a slight twist.  But it is still a variation on the sort of worldview the writer Jean Genet expressed in Journal du voleur [The Thief’s Journal]: “Repudiating the virtues of your world, criminals hopelessly agree to organize a forbidden universe. They agree to live in it. The air there is nauseating: they can breathe it.”  Of course, at its extreme, this is a similar strategy to one that “hoarders” use in response to personal trauma. 

Harmony Korine‘s film Mister Lonely (2008) is more or less an attempt to analyze precisely the same thinking that drives Operation: Doomsday.  In that film, the main characters are celebrity impersonators who are unable or unwilling to live under their own identities, instead forming a commune.  Eventually, after circumstances cause the commune to fall apart, the protagonist sheds his costume and assumed identity and lives as himself.  There is something to the notion that the pressures of modern society to be an individual (and “personal brand”) are too great, especially for the most vulnerable and the traumatized.  But, still, there is a problem with the lack of a strategy to ever step out from behind an assumed identity.  There is never any hint of how that might happen on Operation: Doomsday.  This music seems to stop at presenting a defense mechanism.

At a time when hip-hop’s growing commercial dominance was causing the music to stagnate somewhat, Operation: Doomsday. came out of left field.  For instance, OutKast was considered by many hip-hop heads to represent something new and different, even as that group was (in the late 1990s at least) offering only a slight variation on the glorification of the same money-obsessed, misogynistic “playa” personas that were still commercially dominant.  MF DOOM, on the other hand, suggested there was a whole lot more possible, much further afield from the mainstream.  Sure, groups like Hieroglyphics already had a small following along these lines, but it was after Operation: Doomsday. found surprising success (even if only coincidentally) that momentum carried forward with the Anticon collective, the Project Blowed collective, Antipop Consortium, Kanye, and more.

And it probably has helped MF DOOM’s commercial success that Hollywood became absolutely fixated on making one big-budget superhero movie after another after Operation: Doomsday. was released — a trend that took off more or less immediately after the release of this album.  While certainly there is no direct connection between MF DOOM’s appropriation of comic book characters (or Ghostface’s, etc.) and Hollywood’s economic priorities, they both fit together in the same social context of neoliberal hyper-individualism.

When this album came out my roommate at the time was very into it, though I was more ambivalent.  I probably like it more now than back then, though I think DOOM did better later.  It does have its drawbacks, namely a few songs that overstay their welcome with gimmicks stretched out too long.  From a production and beats standpoint, Take Me to Your Leader (under another pseudonym King Geedorah) is better.  From a lyrics and straight rapping standpoint, Vaudeville Villain (under yet another pseduonym Viktor Vaughn) is better.  Overall, even the later effort under the MF DOOM name Mm..Food is a bit better.  Though this solo debut is still strong.

The album has been reissued numerous times.  One deluxe edition comes in a collectible lunchbox, complete with trading cards and a bonus disc with 12″ and instrumental versions of various songs.  Another reissue includes the bonus disc but omits the non-musical extras like the lunchbox.  The bonus disc is fine, but hardly essential.  Reissues have replaced the original cover artwork (by Lord Scotch 79th) due to unspecified licensing issues.  The lunchbox reissue instead uses artwork (by Jason Jagel) that vaguely resembles the original, but the other bonus disc reissue has cover artwork (also by Jason Jagel) that parodies Paul Robeson‘s Songs of Free Men.

Ornette Coleman – Tomorrow Is the Question!

Tomorrow Is the Question! The New Music of Ornette Coleman!

Ornette ColemanTomorrow Is the Question! The New Music of Ornette Coleman! Contemporary M 3569 (1959)


There is an old saying, “To a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.”  This adage goes a long way to explain Ornette’s earliest studio recordings.  In hindsight at least, it is fairly clear that he had his musical vision already worked out in the mid-1950s.  His problem — well, one of his problems — was bringing together musicians sympathetic to his radically new ideas and then getting them up to speed performing based on those new ideas rather than being “hammers” banging on nails like they usually did in conventional jazz combos.  He was practicing regularly, in private, with a core handful of players like Don Cherry.  The thing was, while living in Los Angeles, he secured his first recording contract as an offshoot of selling some compositions to Contemporary Records (run by Lester Koenig, who was blacklisted from Hollywood films during the McCarthy witchhunt era).  He began recording with groups that included some mediocre players and some bigger name players brought in just to play recording sessions.  For the most part, Ornette had already met and played with the musicians who would make up arguably his greatest combo, which would record extensively for Atlantic Records, but for whatever reason Cherry and Billy Higgins (Higgins being absent here) were the only ones to appear on Ornette’s recordings for Contemporary.  For instance, Ornette had asked drummer Ed Blackwell to play on his debut album Something Else!!!! but Blackwell turned down the offer.  Blackwell later joined Ornette’s band in New York City after fleeing discriminatory miscegenation charges in New Orleans.

Shelly Manne on drums sounds just fine here.  Ignore the detractors!  Manne was always one of the most forward-thinking West Coast players.  He has a more open and spare style than Billy Higgins.  Given more time to play with Ornette, I imagine Manne would have gone even further out — though that wasn’t to be, because Ornette moved to the East Coast.  Manne nonethless credited his time playing with Ornette as being significant to his later work.

Percy Heath and Red Mitchell, great bassists in their own rights, just go on playing in a progressive yet still conventional style that isn’t always enough for what Ornette’s music calls for.  Heath and Mitchell are the “hammers” in this band. Sessions with Mitchell took place first.  Mitchell is out of his element, and Ornette felt Mitchell thought he was a bit looney.  Though Mitchell was a noted bop player in Los Angeles at the time, and was responsible for putting Ornette in touch with Contemporary Records in the first place, he clearly isn’t interested in Ornette’s pioneering musical ideas.  Ornette actually recruited Heath, the bassist for the renown Modern Jazz Quartet, for a third recording session after two with Mitchell were fairly unproductive.  Ornette’s recruiting efforts also put him in touch with The MJQ’s pianist John Lewis, who was immediately impressed by Ornette’s music, and who would end up being the single most decisive factor in Ornette’s critical success down the road.  It is not an overstatement to say that Ornette would have been forgotten to history and his best music never recorded if not for Lewis.

Anyway, by ditching a piano, Tomorrow Is the Question! sounds worlds better than the debut (this album was Ornette’s second to be recorded, but was released third).  Sure, things got better from here, but this is still a good one.  The opening title track is a really great composition, highly indicative of Ornette’s off-kilter yet oddly endearing nursery rhyme melodies.  It starts the album off on a high note.  And the rest of the album is good too.  Actually, it’s better than just good, thanks to a lot of great compositions, more confident playing from Cherry (though he would play even more strongly in the future), and, of course, unique and inventive soloing from Ornette himself on pretty much every song.  The recording is crisp enough that even when Mitchell plays just a plain vanilla walk it leave space to hear Ornette’s microtonal explorations on his (plastic) horn.  So, Tomorrow Is the Question! pales only in comparison to what Ornette had in store next, but is quite rewarding in its own right.

Ornette Coleman – Sound Grammar

Sound Grammar

Ornette ColemanSound Grammar Sound Grammar SG 11593 (2006)


Ornette’s last solo album before his death, and first in a decade (after releasing three albums in 1996), found surprising success.  This is a live recording with Ornette’s working band.  He seems to have learned that it takes two bassists to replace Charlie Haden.  On the whole, this album is nostalgic and kind of presents a summary of Ornette’s entire career.  “Sleep Talk” sounds good in this reading.  There isn’t a whole lot else here that stands out, but this is consistent top to bottom.  The reasons this became so popular probably have more to do with timing (Ornette’s stature plus the gap since his last albums) and, especially, promotion (Ornette granted an uncommon number of interviews) than purely the merits of the performance.

Ornette Coleman – New York Is Now!

New York Is Now!

Ornette ColemanNew York Is Now! Blue Note BST 84287 (1968)


As much as I find a lot of individual elements of this music rewarding, New York Is Now! never quite comes together as well as it could.  “Broad Way Blues” is a catchy, memorable tune.  The opener “The Garden of Souls” has a lot going for it too.  Ornette’s playing is pretty good throughout — especially on “The Garden of Souls.”  Dewey Redman makes some solid contributions too.  But the nagging problem is basically the same one that plagued Ornette’s early albums for Contemporary Records: the rhythm section just isn’t right.  Often the rhythm section seems to be operating in a different world than Ornette and Redman.  Jimmy Garrison is on bass.  He had played with Ornette in the early 60s, but on these sessions he is hostile and uncooperative.  Elvin Jones is a great drummer, just not the right kind of drummer for this music.  He’s a little too uptight.  This was recorded in the spring of 1968, and live recordings made over the next twelve months for the Impulse! label would prove more effective, thanks to a different rhythm section — though Ornette has some arguably stronger moments in his own playing here.  Now, had these sessions featured Henry Grimes on bass and Rashied Ali on drums, that might have been something.  Or even if some of the songs featured Ornette unaccompanied, or just with Redman.

I came to this album after hearing Joe Lovano and Greg Osby‘s version of “Broad Way Blues” on Friendly Fire and I wanted to check out the original recording.  I can’t say I’ve ever returned to the Lovano/Osby version.  But I don’t return to Ornette’s late 1960s small combo recordings much either—it’s a period that has always perplexed and frustrated me, with too many failed experiments and tentative half-measures.  After hearing Lovano/Osby, then Ornette’s original, I found myself gravitating more to Change of the Century, which was an Ornette album readily available to me at the time.

Ornette Coleman – Prime Design / Time Design

Prime Design / Time Design

Ornette ColemanPrime Design / Time Design Caravan of Dreams CDP 85002 (1986)


Ornette Coleman met futurist/architect/inventor R. Buckminster Fuller in 1982, after first attending one of his lectures in Los Angeles back in 1954.  In an interview included in the film Ornette: Made in America, Ornette calls Fuller his “number one hero.”  After the 1982 meeting, Ornette told Kathelin Hoffman Gray, the artistic director of the Caravan of Dreams in Fort Worth, Texas, that he had to write something for Fuller.  That composition ended up being Prime Design / Time Design.  Ornette also wrote another tribute to Fuller that appears on the bootleg Reunion 1990.

Fuller is perhaps most widely known as the popularizer of geodesic domes.  But he also invented the Fuller Projection map (the most visually accurate flat representation of the Earth) and “tensegrity” structures used in bridge design, coined the phrase “Spaceship Earth”, developed the “World Game” simulation, participated in the “Dartmouth Conferences”, designed an experimental city (never constructed) called “Old Man River’s City” and (never constructed) floating-in-water apartment complexes, and advocated for a global electricity grid (something slowly inching toward realization).  He was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1983.  In his book Critical Path, he claimed, “I am apolitical and an ardent advocate of an omnihumanity-advantaging freedom of individual initiative . . . .” and described one of his early life goals as to be a kind of Robin Hood armed with scientific textbooks, microscopes and calculators instead of a longbow and staff.  One of Fuller’s famous quotes is, “If success or failure of this planet and of human beings depended on how I am and what I do… HOW WOULD I BE? WHAT WOULD I DO?”  Fuller operated in a way often parallel to Technocracy Incorporated, the radical era of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers (ASME), and Veblen‘s essays collected in The Engineers and the Price System, though Fuller wasn’t ever a part of those organizations or directly linked to Veblen.  He did, however, explicitly subscribe to Count Alfred Korzybski‘s “General Semantics”, documented in a 1933 book Science and Sanity: An Introduction to Non-Aristotelian Systems and General Semantics but mostly promoted through lectures (which Fuller attended, as did beat writer and Coleman acquaintance William S. Burroughs).

General Semantics was intended to offer a synthesis of all human knowledge.  Mostly, though, the focus was on the imprecision of language, and a rejection of dualistic essentialism and extrovert bias.  Korzybski’s most famous saying was that “the map is not the territory”, which is similar to Saussure‘s formulation in semiotics that the signifier is not the signified.  Something like this is also involved in the analysis of chains of signifiers in psychoanalysis.  William S. Burroughs (a strong adherent to psychoanalysis) often recalled to interviewers how Korzybski would start his lectures by banging his hand on a table and saying, “Whatever this is, it is not a table.”  What he meant was that the word “table” referred to the thing he had just banged his hand on, but the word was not the thing itself.  A funny aspect of this is that in a later-life interview included in the book The Jazz Ear: Conversations Over Music, Ornette spoke in strikingly similar terms.  He said, “Do you think ‘the brain’ is a good title for the brain?  Well whatever you think your brain is, is that all there is?  I doubt it.”  In another interview he said, “Is life different than if the title wasn’t called that?” All this also happens to be a crucially important concept in terms of how Ornette wrote music and wanted that music performed: performers were meant to “transpose” the notes by their own discretion.  He talked about this transposition constantly in interviews.

It also bears mentioning here that Buckminster Fuller and Ornette Coleman are arguably two of the most famous autodidacts of the Twentieth Century — meaning they learned through self-directed education rather than through institutions or a master-apprentice type situation.  Fuller went so far as to refer to himself as “Guinea Pig B”.  The two even used similarly offbeat language and crafted their own esoteric lexicons of terminology.  For instance, Fuller used portmanteau terms like “Dymaxion” (derived from the words dynamic, maximum, and tension) just as Ornette used the term “Harmolodic” (derived from the words harmonic and melodic…or perhaps also rhythmic).

Prime Design / Time Design follows a somewhat similar approach to The Music of Ornette Coleman, particularly “Forms and Sounds” and “Saints and Soldiers,” and also “Dedication to Poets and Writers” from Town Hall, 1962.  That is to say this resembles the music of the serialists of the Second Viennese School (Schönberg, Webern, Berg).  Of course, in addition to that Ornette’s son Denardo plays free jazz drums, more like with Skies of America, or, perhaps, even Schnittke‘s Concerto Grosso No. 2 bears some resemblances.  Ornette composed the music, but does not perform on the recording.  Aside from Denardo, the other performers are Gregory Gelman (1st violin; later sent to prison for arson), Larissa Blitz (2nd violin), Alex Deych (viola) and Matthew Meister (cello).  Meister is American, while the other three string players are Soviet emigrants.

The album was, appropriately, recorded live in 1985 inside the 32-foot tall, neon lighted Fullerian Desert Dome on the rooftop of the Caravan of Dreams club in Fort Worth, Texas.  The club was the project of Ed Bass, a billionaire entrepreneur born into oil wealth.  It featured a lot of avant-garde artistic endeavors, and was part of an urban renewal venture of sorts, but was an entirely private development intended to be commercially profitable.  The club also ran a record label of the same name, and this album appeared on that label.  That proved to be something of a handicap, as the independent label had limited distribution and promotion, and, frankly, didn’t last that long or release much.  This album has never be reissued — of Ornette’s few albums on the label, only In All Languages has been reissued.

Paul Bley has spoken about how when he attended Julliard in the early 1950s, he was taught a line of thinking prominent among “Third Stream” theoreticians that said jazz was developing along a similar path as Euro-classical music.  He said:

“We learned something about the evolution of classical music, which had gone through a parallel sequence of development seventy-five years earlier than jazz.  Once you realized that, you could look at the history of this European art music to see what was coming next in jazz.  It was easy in 1950 to see that the music was about to become very impressionistic, and so it did. . . .  After impressionism, atonality was next.  The big mystery wasn’t whether atonal music was coming; it was why it wasn’t already here.  European music had been atonal since the twenties — what was taking jazz so long?”

Stopping Time: Paul Bley and the Transformation of Jazz (1999), p. 24.

While it is possible to question the kind of historical determinism present in this view — perhaps along lines similar to Leon Trotsky‘s theory in political economics of uneven and combined development, asking why jazz couldn’t leapfrog development paths in the Euro-classical field — there is nonetheless a certain hindsight accuracy to it, in Ornette’s case at least.  And when Bley refers to atonality in Euro-classical music, that is a reference, principally, to the Second Viennese School.

A useful supplement to Bley’s invocation of the Second Viennese School is to look at Theodor Adorno‘s Philosophy of Modern Music.  Adorno compared and contrasted the composers Arnold Schönberg and Igor Stravinsky.  He concluded that Stravinsky “restored” a traditional/conservative perspective in the face of crisis, whereas Schönberg offered a more genuinely progressive and new approach via atonality.  Adorno still saw limits in Schönberg’s twelve-tone system.  Famously, Adorno was very disparaging of jazz, though many have pointed out that his reference to “jazz” was likely more a kind of popular society music and not the genuine article.  It is here that Ornette fits in, as someone who carried the torch for what Schönberg suggested, adding his own novel contributions and his own unique formulations.  Schönberg, after all, composed from a systems perspective involving the relationships between notes (i.e., syntax).  Ornette, in contrast, tended to emphasize paradigmatic improvisational choices and the independence of performers.  Adorno did critique Schönberg for applying universalist rationalism in a way that suppressed the individual, the flip side of which just so happens to be one of Ornette’s unique and lasting contributions to music!

In the album’s sleeve notes, Ornette described Prime Design / Time Design this way:

“This piece is designed for five soloists. At different points in the piece, each musician plays in different time signatures: 2/4, 1/4, 2/3, 4/4, 7/4, 9/4 and 12/4.

“The second violin introduces the theme which is then played by viola, the cello, and the first violin. After completing the theme, each musician plays his part as a solo, performed “ensemble.” Each soloist will end at a different place. Second violin finishes first, then the viola, the cello and lastly the first violin.”

Not mentioned by Ornette is the fact that the ensemble comes together for a final collective statement after all the performers finishes their ensemble-performed solos.

In this piece, it is indeed remarkable how Ornette manages to create some of the same “sourness” of tone that he achieves in his alto saxophone playing through written notation for a string quartet.  And yet there is a grim, determined hopefulness to the music.  The piece is also curious in how it delegates spheres of latitude to different performers, giving the drums apparent free-range in all aspects, while the string players seem to have extensive time-duration freedom even as they tend to follow certain notated melodic statements.  This works well for this piece.  Ornette had perhaps learned from his experience with Skies of America etc. that Euro-classical players were not as comfortable with improvisation as jazz musicians.  It also helps that he rehearsed with the string quartet for a full month leading up to the performance on the recording.

I’ve long been an admirer of Fuller, Coleman, Korzybski, Schönberg, and pretty much all the other names mentioned above.  Prime Design / Time Design doesn’t strike me as particularly evocative of Buckminster Fuller.  In other words, this isn’t the sort of music that enters my mind when I think about Fuller — I’m more inclined to think of something like “Focus on Sanity” from The Shape of Jazz to Come or the “Buckminster Fuller” song on the Reunion 1990 bootleg.  And yet, Fuller and Ornette were most definitely two people of similar minds.  Both were futurists, trying to construct a different and better world, be that through music, architecture or whatever, and both being profoundly optimistic about other people having the capacity to similarly contribute in their own ways.  In that more general sense, Prime Design / Time Design is a very worthy effort.  Granted, this album is much derided.  But I find that it holds up admirably, and even more favorably than some Second Viennese School works/performances (e.g., Neue Wiener Schule: Die Streichquartette).  I think listeners are mostly likely to enjoy this if you take Ornette’s repeated assertions that his “Harmolodics” theory was applicable to any art form, not just jazz theory, and understand that as an assertion of how he developed musical techniques reflective of certain political philosophies attuned toward freedom principles.  Looked at as jazz music, this is going to seem incomprehensible and just plain difficult.  Looked at as Euro-classical music, this might seem dilettantish and muddled.  But a key point of General Semantics is that there are many ways to look at things and dualistic extremes are rarely helpful.  I like to see this as being in service of an agenda completely independent of genre categories like jazz/classical, though I also must admit to thinking this expands and improves upon formulations earlier identified by the Second Viennese School, overcoming some of the limits of their solutions to underlying challenges of musical theory and practice in a way that draws from blues/R&B and — especially — jazz.

Ornette Coleman – Ornette at 12

Ornette at 12

Ornette ColemanOrnette at 12 Impulse! AS-9178 (1969


Ornette’s first of two albums — both recorded live — for the Impulse! label.  The band is Ornette, Charlie Haden, Dewey Redman, and Denardo Ornette Coleman (Ornette’s son).  Denardo was 12 years old at the time, hence the title of the album.  Much has been said and written about Denardo’s presence — nepotism? a reliance on the fact that he was too young to have learned “conventional” jazz drumming?  The perfect fit?  Here, he does manage to contribute some things, though I wouldn’t say he is able to sustain a level of meaningful contribution over the entire performance.  The opener “C.O.D.” (whatever that acronym stands for!) is the highlight, with some great interplay between the two sax players, but “New York” is strong too, with a long section for Haden to stretch out while Denardo holds back.  The rest (“Rainbows,” “Bells and Chimes”) is not especially memorable, with Ornette playing trumpet and violin less successfully than elsewhere.  Lots of this is in the style of Ornette’s albums for Blue Note (New York Is Now!, Love Call), recorded earlier the same year, though a bit better thanks to the presence of a more sympathetic rhythm section.  So, on the whole this is decent if still a bit uneven.  The next Impulse! album Crisis is stronger.  For what it is worth, Impulse! marketed this as a studio album, though it is in fact a live recording with audible noise from the audience.

Spacemen 3 – Taking Drugs to Make Music to Take Drugs to

Taking Drugs to Make Music to Take Drugs to

Spacemen 3Taking Drugs to Make Music to Take Drugs to (Bomp! BCD 4047 1994 [1990/2000])


Originally released in 1990 on vinyl by Father Yod records, Taking Drugs to Make Music to Take Drugs to was re-released in 1994 on CD in an expanded form that included basically double the amount of original material, and then in 2000 another reissue tacked on a cover of The Red Crayola‘s “Transparent Radiation” (an alternate version of the band’s single).  The original 7 tracks released in 1990 were demos recorded at the home studio of Carlo Marocco in Piddington, outside Northampton, in January 1986.  They are often referred to as the “Northampton Demos.”  Those demos led to a record deal, and most of the demo songs were re-recorded for their debut album Sound of Confusion.  The tracks appended on reissues in 1994 and 2000 were recorded later, but the exact provenance of them is unclear.

These demos and outtakes end up being superior to the studio counterparts.  This belongs to be listed alongside the likes of the demos on disc one of The Jesus & Mary Chain‘s The Power of Negative Thinking: B-Sides & Rarities, and Bobby Womack‘s “Across 110th Street” demo, as being more classic than the formal studio recordings.  In this case, the title of the album is appropriate (a bit like the M-C-M formula).  This stuff is tripped out and psychedelic, but also crisper and more focused than much of the band’s studio output.  Frankly, this is the best that the band had to offer.  Listeners will definitely want one of the expanded reissues, because the additional tracks are very worthwhile.

Royal Trux – Cats and Dogs

Cats and Dogs

Royal TruxCats and Dogs Drag City DC32CD (1993)


Royal Trux’s sound is notoriously, gloriously trashy, and on Cats and Dogs, for the first time, takes on classic rock influences, a few hints of psychedelia, and some overtures to the burgeoning grunge/alt rock of the day, but also retains a noisy quality held over from their early, uncompromising noise rock recordings.  In the next two decades, few would follow in their footsteps, though certain recordings by the Japanese band Boris come to mind.

The adoption of classic rock elements put Royal Trux in line with bands like Dinosaur Jr. and Spacemen 3, who, in the aftermath of the punk era, worked to return to pre-punk melodic guitar solo sensibilities (to a degree).  In a way, this re-established a kind of contercultural continuum after punk had stripped everything back to raw energy and simplicity, going back to the beginning.

Cats and Dogs is really one of the band’s best, in terms of being fairly consistent from beginning to end — and being listenable.  The songs are surprisingly varied.  There are “wall of sound” production techniques, bongos (!), and, yes, guitar solos from the reliably enigmatic Neil Michael Hagerty, who had a way of forging tenuous alliances between melodic hooks and dissonant abstractions.  He routinely attributed his approach to Ornette Coleman‘s music theory of “Harmolodics”, which in practice meant an emphasis on melodic intervals and rhythm over harmony and a fierce insistence on normative “equality” among performers and sounds.  People sometimes compare Black Flag guitarist Greg Ginn to former Ornette collaborator James “Blood” Ulmer, though in many ways Hagerty is more similar to Ulmer’s “Harmolodic” guitar style.  But you probably wouldn’t guess that the band had a female lead vocalist just by hearing Jennifer Herrema‘s raspy, growled vocals.  And just because this music is trashy, that doesn’t make it unrefined.  In fact, the hidden strength of Cats and Dogs is that it takes this kind of hazy, druggy, contrarian “townie” music very seriously — even though elitists would not — and these recordings are quite meticulously constructed.  Partly that is due to their expansive view of rhythm, and how it could be used the flexibly hold together a lot of disparate influences — at times the precedents from Captain Beefheart are striking (“Skywood Greenback Mantra”).

Noel Gardner wrote in a review, “As much as Royal Trux are a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an oily rag, they are a totemic example of greatness in the American rock underground.”  In a way, as much as I might agree with his ultimate conclusion, this is a look at the band from the top down.  From the bottom up, Royal Trux sort of reveled in lower class status, much like San Francisco’s Flipper and the Washington DC hardcore punk scene — of which Royal Trux were quite direct descendants.  To the extent that the band remained “a beacon of inspiration in a desolate cultural landscape” it was partly by carrying on, well after Cats and Dogs, when most of the micro-communities of like-minded musicians, fans and critics dissolved away.