Cultural Detritus, Reviews, and Commentary
John Fahey – Womblife Table of the Elements TOE-CD-37 (1997)
John Fahey’s 1990s renaissance was not unlike Scott Walker‘s in leading down a very stark and abrasive path. Womblife is intriguing even if not essential like his early classics. His guitar style was starting to resemble Loren MazzaCane Connors in many ways.
Dropkick Murphys – The Warrior’s Code Hellcat 80472-2 (2005)
Seems like the worst possible combination of The Mighty Mighty Bosstones and The Pogues.
SoKo – I Thought I Was an Alien Because Music BEC 5161067 (2012)
A respectable collection of twee chamber folk music. Though at times this threatens to overplay the sheer preciousness, particularly with the vocals that sound almost like Björk but without the same lurking shrewdness, because the best moments are when this breaks out of the almost timid yet clever self-reflection with bursts of almost incongruous gregariousness. Shows much promise.
Flipper – Album: Generic Flipper Subterranean SUB 25 (1982)
“Ever look at a flower and hate it?” (“Ever”)
Well, ever hear an album and instantly love it?
Flipper grew out of the remnants of the punk scene. They formed in San Francisco. Not exactly the epicenter of punk, but their distance from the leading proponents of that movement probably helped them forge their own unique sound. Most Flipper tracks follow a similar format, with guitarist Ted Falconi scratching out abrasive, atonal guitar noise and one of the bass players (Will Shatter and Bruce Lose [AKA Bruce Loose] — they alternated singing and playing bass) carrying what passes for a melody. The singing sort of creates its own melody, not always in sync with the bass line melodies, and not really “sung” either, so much as shouted and groaned in almost a monotone. The drums (Steve DePace) thud along in a kind of plodding way, lo-fi and sort of distant and sometimes with added echo effect, yet also deceptively varied compared to most punk and hardcore of the day. This was an early form of “sludge rock”, taken up later by bands like Black Flag (My War) and The Melvins. The sound is very heavy. As confrontational as the band was, and as much as they are totally incompatible with being part of some sort of upper crust of society, their driving, powerful sound doesn’t reveal any guilt about acting like they fucking own the world as much as anyone else.
“Life” has the brilliant lyrics “life, life, life is the only thing worth living for.” This empty turn of phrase utterly robs desire of all its power, in a wonderful way. Basically, by excluding all other things as being “worth living for,” it relegates all other worldly desires to the status of worthless shit. This is basically what psychoanalysis says too, incidentally. What is left, is just life itself. You either find a way to make that worth it, or not. Flipper turn this into an anthem! The chord progression on the song is indeed one of the few on the entire album that has any sort of ascending, happy-sounding resolution.
“Who needs cancer, it’s boring” (“Living for the Depression”) Well, if that line doesn’t do it for you, the band conveniently lets you know that “this song rhymes.” But they also call out the listener, ending the song by shouting about “a real cheap fucker like you, copout!”
This is an album of solidarity. Either you appreciate the band avoiding what most people would find enjoyable, hell, acceptable, only the most like-minded remain. Well, there is plenty to love here. A big reason a lot of people loved (and still love) Flipper is that they had the guts to actually go out and make music like this.
The “hit” was “Sex Bomb.” Here’s a song that has probably the most degenerate horn section around (actually just two saxophonists). Like string orchestration, horns are kind of a capital-intensive way to make music. To set one against some guys in a degenerate rock band yelling nothing but “Sex bomb, my baby, yeah!” for minutes on end is a daring way to defile everything that such elements usually mean. This takes the sort of tools of the powerful and makes them crass, ugly and unsuitable. This is a glorious musical revolution (of “kynicism“). The was a time, just before the Great Depression, when around the world musicians were doing this sort of stuff (chronicled in Michael Denning‘s book Noise Uprising). It is also a bit like industrial rockers Rammstein would do with fascist iconography years later, because it reduces capital-intensive musical accoutrements to simple pleasures that are put in the service of something else, that here at least seems deeper.
Tom Waits – Closing Time Asylum SD 5061 (1973)
Tom Waits’ debut went in a direction he never really revisited. Only “Midnight Lullaby” points to what he would do on his next few albums, though the style is not yet fully formed. People look to “Ol’ 55” as one of his better songs, but I find it a bit ho-hum. It leans a bit too much on the prevailing “California soft rock” fad, which was in full swing at the time. That sort of sums this up. The album doesn’t always play on Waits’ strengths. So it could be said he was still finding his voice. But this album still has some charm. “Old Shoes (& Picture Postcards)” is among my favorite Waits songs — usually my only reason for returning to Closing Time.
The Mahavishnu Orchestra With John McLaughlin – The Inner Mounting Flame Columbia KC 31067 (1971)
A great debut from one of the foremost jazz fusion outfits. This one is much more rock-oriented than the later albums. In fact, this one sounds more like a rock band exploring some very complex jazz themes rather than a jazz band incorporating rock rhythms, guitar riffs and the like. The group’s next album, Birds of Fire, would take a very different approach and utilize purely rock instrumentation to achieve a symphonic sound within the auspices of jazz fusion. Later albums would take a more prog-rock approach, with actual symphony orchestration set against more rock-centric noodling.
The Mothers of Invention – We’re Only In It For the Money Verve V6 5045X (1968)
This is hands-down the best album to come from The Mothers of Invention (it is often inexplicably filed under bandmember Frank Zappa‘s name in many record stores). It’s the one time their goofy, satirical sense of humor materialized on record in a way that both stayed true to its nonsensical sentiments and coalesced into a consistently moving body of songs.
In a way, this is the group’s Triumph des Willens [Triumph of the Will]. If that seems an odd comparison, know that the cynical attitude here is kind of what allows the band to forge on. The title may be “We’re Only In It For the Money” and that is supposed to be a joke, but aren’t they in it for the money in the end? The way the group skewers Yippie/Hippie culture is kind of an attack on what was the greatest threat to concentrated elite control of society since the labor movement and the associated threat of the collapse of capitalism from the Bolshevik Revolution through the Great Depression. Anyway, just like Triumph of the Will, this is still a great album because of the total conviction of what it is about, and the excellent execution.
Bob Dylan – The Bootleg Series Vol. 10: Another Self Portrait (1969-1971) Columbia 88883 73488 2 (2013)
Drawing primarily from the years that produced Self Portrait, Dylan, and New Morning, but also touching briefly on The Basement Tapes, Nashville Skyline, and the new material from Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits Vol. II, this tenth edition of the “Bootleg Series” focuses on a crucial turning point in Bob Dylan’s career, when for the first time he was drawing criticism and seemed to be making missteps. But set that all aside. The first disc of this collection is mostly rather excellent, and stands all on its own. From this evidence, Dylan had not run out of ideas. He had plenty. He was also capable of touching, heartfelt performances. But somebody, Dylan, his managers, the label…one of them, or bunches of them, seem to have conspired to present Dylan in the worst possible light back at the time of the original releases. This collection give everyone a second bite of the apple, so-to-speak. It finds Dylan doing something akin to the folk that he made in the early/mid 1960s. But by the dawn of the 1970s, commercial interests were looking west toward the burgeoning singer-songwriter movement that utilized more ornate studio embellishments than the kind of spare, acoustic folk Dylan was still frequently recording. This gives the impression that it was (stupidly, in hindsight) decided that Dylan needed to do something else. So he did. Dylan’s albums from the era ended up flawed, even dreadful at times. The songs on the first disc here are demo versions, unreleased outtakes, alternate versions, and a few versions that appear to be the released versions stripped of some or all original overdubs (akin, somewhat, to Willie Nelson‘s Naked Willie). The latter discs add more of the same, plus some live recordings. The deluxe edition includes a full disc of “The Complete, Historic ‘Isle of Wight’ Concert, 1969.” In truth the extra material is of marginal interest. The best material is on disc one; a single disc edition would actually be the one to get, if it existed. But all those details aside, this collection is great because it shows how even (or maybe especially) a huge star like Dylan faced pressure to do something “different” even when it was clear that doing more of the same is what would have worked best. The evidence is right here, and with hindsight thankfully the best of his efforts of the era are now available for all to hear.
Frank Zappa – Hot Rats Bizarre RS 6356 (1969)
Often cited as a key example of jazz fusion, I think Hot Rats makes a rather poor representation of the genre. For the most part, it’s a well-orchestrated affair that leaves precious little room for any significant improvisation. And after all, it’s improvisation that marks any music as “jazz”. Zappa, as usual, is really the opposite of what he pretends to be. This music is sort of a distraction, a cynical ploy that conceals behind a wall of exuberant, nearly psychedelic effects a kind of gutless service to all the lame institutions of the past. This isn’t the freaks revolting and taking over the world; this is the show that the “great and powerful” Wizard of Oz puts on to help the boring old man control the realm just out of sight. Or perhaps it is cheap vaudeville to let off some steam so that the machinery of established society keeps churning without exploding. Either way, the status quo emerges unscathed.
The best offering here is “Gumbo Variations” (as the title implies it’s really built more off Euro-classical tradition than any kind of jazz idiom). A few players rotate solos and you’re out. Don “Sugarcane” Harris puts in a nice electrified violin solo, but the song really drags after a while. Captain Beefheart makes an appearance on “Willie the Pimp”. Even Beefheart kind of gets lost on the album, scarcely utilized at all. The album is respectable, but, like most Frank Zappa albums, it just isn’t anything special.
The Velvet Underground – Loaded Cotillion SD 9034 (1970)
“Sweet Jane” sums up the unbelievable scope of Loaded. With reverence for all the joys and sorrows of this world, compassion is what rises to the surface.
“Jack is in his corset/Jane is in her vest/ and me, I’m in a rock and roll band.”
Whether Jack or Jane is in the corset (seemingly each version transposes the two), the distinction is meaningless. There are spectators, performers, pawns, poets, lovers, families, hypocrites, philosophers, dreamers, and more. These simple categories simply don’t matter:
and there’s some evil mothers/ well, they’re gonna tell you everything is just dirt/ you know that, women never really faint/ and that villains always blink their eyes/ and that, you know, children are the only ones that blush/ or that life is just to die/ but anyone that ever had a heart/ oh, they wouldn’t turn around and break it/ and anyone that’s every played a part/ they wouldn’t turn around and hate it
The usual question and answer format of the Velvets’ earlier albums isn’t present on Loaded, but you can use your imagination. The music is still there in one place or another. People get by — that in itself can be glorious. Maybe, as Arthur Rimbaud so eloquently stated, “Life is the farce all must perform.” The Velvets, with infinite compassion, simply take pleasure in the grand scheme of it all. The greatest rock band faced imminent destruction while recording Loaded. They certainly proved their conviction at the least.
Despite Atlantic/Cotillion Records’ every attempt to ruin Loaded, it still rocks. Had the record company continued allowing full creative control, this album could have been one of those “top ten all-time”. Credit is due the Ahmet Ertegun for recognizing the group’s talents. Atlantic did initially consider signing the Velvets a prestigious “score,” but those feelings quickly changed. Loaded took forever to complete as the Velvet Underground disintegrated as a band. Atlantic switched producers and rescinded much artistic control. This band could make the most innovative experimental rock if they chose to but instead, given the circumstances, made a great pop album.
The album loaded with possible hits. Yet, the original release had bizarre mixes that re-ordered and shortened songs (“New Age,” “Rock and Roll” and the unforgivable disservice done to “Sweet Jane,” otherwise one of the greatest modern rock songs ever). There is no possible explanation for this. When re-released on the “Fully Loaded Edition” reissue, the original mixes were restored. Though the song order was never corrected, all the great songs are still there, somewhere. The recordings of a few, like “Head Held High” still show an unreal studio awareness, with subtle textures and precise timing. The final product is imperfect, but that gives Loaded a kind of underdog status in the Velvet’s catalog.
Lou Reed was on a fucking roll for Loaded. Many of his most memorable lyrics are nicely contained on this one disc. The largely autobiographical “Rock and Roll” is one of the great proclamations of the glory of rock music. “Who Loves the Sun” starts the album off with a spat of disillusionment and sweet isolation. Unlike the sonic attack of the Velvet’s first two albums, Loaded establishes them as pop song virtuosos the equals of other rock bands like The Beatles or The Rolling Stones. “Lonesome Cowboy Bill,” about William S. Burroughs, is careening fun. The Velvets had traditionally been a dark, bleak band, but only by choice. Loaded conclusively proves their range included rock rebelliousness and pop sensibility as well, simultaneously. It’s easy to yap about all the classic rock and roll songs found on this album, but it’s no use to state the obvious.
Sterling Morrison’s best guitar work is on White Light/ White Heat. On Loaded, his influence is sparse but powerful. Morrison always added humor to the Velvets. He was an influence of humanity in the group. Despite his crumbling faith in the group he turns in a few fine moments. Doug Yule played some of the lead guitar parts. Sterling adds the flavor to Loaded that makes it so fun.
Tension comes in simple, easy-to-grasp doses. Doug Yule’s vocals falter at times (weakening the otherwise great tune “I Found A Reason”), but are generally strong (“Who Loves the Sun”). Moe Tucker does not play drums due to pregnancy (it’s hard to reach drums around a baby). The obstacles were apparent. The way the Velvets forge ahead anyway is the real story behind Loaded.
Every force runs against the Velvets and they still prevail. Thanks largely to Lou Reed’s songwriting genius as a profound lyricist; worldly computations and amputations (to use Reed’s vocabulary) do little to dampen the spirit of this great music. The Velvets keep their “Head Held High.”
Wouldn’t you be a bit disillusioned if you were the greatest rock band, but no one cared? Loaded delivers everything a great rock album must: catchy hooks, rebellious attitudes, and yes, it makes you want to jump up and play some rock and roll yourself. Glory is attainable. After hearing this album, you want to achieve it too. You can; somehow it will all work out.
When Loaded failed to be the commercial hit it should have been and old frustrations lingered, the Velvets essentially broke up, continuing on only as essentially a new band with the old name. More than a decade later, the music world retroactively identified the Velvet Underground as the pinnacle of rock music. Time proves the Velvet Underground were always right, in a world that often wasn’t. Like Arthur Rimbaud, respect came after their lifetime. A reunion tour was short-lived. Lou Reed’s ego destroyed the group more than once. Fortunately, four studio records survived what the band’s members couldn’t.
I would say the original version of Loaded suffers from some ridiculous edits and remixes at the hands of the record label, but the Fully Loaded Edition and the Peel Slowly and See box nicely fix those problems. So I recommend seeking out one of those reissues as opposed to the “original”.