This week I reprise some of my reviews from issues 31-38 of The Big Takeover (1992-96, if my calculations are correct). These are albums that are ten to fifteen years old (with one reissue of much older material) that have stood the test of time for me but are mostly not much remembered anymore. Though they’re ordered alphabetically rather than chronologically or in terms of quality, my favorite among them is #1.
My favorite album of the year, no question, this is not just proof that there’s at least one new Cali punk group doing something new and interesting with that legacy. This is a great band, led by Korean-American John Lee, that as far as I’m concerned has taken its place among the greats of the genre. The hooks are all knockout punches, and the sound is distinctive and instantly classic (building off early Wire, among others). I rated this a 9 when I reviewed it for huH. Continued listening has made me change my mind. This is a 10.
This Spacemen 3 splinter group does the neo-psychedelia thing with some individuality. The organ and spaciously voiced guitars recall Pink Floyd and the quiet side of the Velvet Underground, but the drums reflect modern beats. Though melodically these guys aren’t what you’d call memorable, the overall effect they create is soothing and sometimes mesmerizing.
Though this legendary Cleveland punk band was more written about than heard, this collection of what little they actually released (with some live stuff throw in) is more than just a historical relic. (Anybody who’s gonna be bothered by the homemade sound of these 1975 recordings presumably won’t be reading this magazine anyway.) Great deranged sounds from the birth of punk.
This Australian punk group has constructed a long career (ten years of recording) based on devout worship of the Ramones, and that hasn’t changed much (but the heavy metal guitar sound of the Ramones’ later period has crept in a little). “51st State,” a protest against the cultural hegemony of the U.S., and the more personal “Faceache” are biliously catchy. If it all begins to sound the same after awhile, [guitar riff]+[concise lead]+[rudimentary vocal harmony]+[driving drumming]+[occasional upward modulation]=[little bundle of propulsive fun exploding out of speakers], the Ramones themselves haven’t blessed us with anything this good since 1987.
I don’t know whether to call this paranoid dance music (some of it verges on Industrial, which you’d expect from this label) or anti-social jazz (no jazz club would ever book this group); it suggests a mix of Blurt and Ministry. The main force in the group seems to be Bob Green, though it’s hard to say what he does since his credit is “all other instruments, loops, & samples.” The fractured alto and bass clarinet lines, muted trumpet, and tight wah-wah guitar riffs bring to mind Miles Davis’s Bitches Brew, but the musical structures and brutal saxophone are definitely non-jazz, as are the low, droning synthesizer tones and inexorable beats. It all combines in a sinister sound that’s gorgeous yet threatening, and totally unlike anything else I’ve heard lately.
(Later on Antilles/Verve.)
Lead singer Renee LoBue has the phrasing and inflections of Kristin Hersh, at the level of eccentricity, if that’s the word, about midway between early Throwing Muses and her solo album. The rest of the band sounds like a cross between British and American alternative sounds, leaning a bit towards the cool shoegazer sound but with heavier chord progressions and more aggressive drumming, with some nice on-the-edge-of-feedback lead guitar. The sound and the songwriting inspire repeated listening.
Licensed from Delirium Records in the U.K., this quartet is largely the brainchild of Steven Wilson (vocals, guitar, keyboards), though it’s also the current band of keyboardist Richard Barbieri (Japan, Rain Tree Crow). This is progressive rock that’s actually continued to progress, adding ambient techno touches (a la the Orb) to spacey guitar psychedelia along the lines of mid-period Pink Floyd (with the occasional tougher moments when a chord progression recalls King Crimson, as in “Moonloop”). The range of references is actually even broader than that; there’s an undercurrent in the verse of “Dislocated Day” reminiscent of early ‘70s Miles Davis, and some of Can’s spacier moments are touched on. The breathy vocals are a bit of a cliché, but they work. Bark Psychosis and Seefeel fans should enjoy this.
Mixing fuzzy guitar loops, dub basslines, (sometimes wordless) female vocals, and light ambient techno beats, Seefeel constructs shimmering, floating sound-sculptures. It’s total ear candy, but not without substance and a variety of textures. This CD combines the EPs More Like Space and Pure, Impure, though some of these tracks, listed as mixes, may be different from the EP tracks (which I don’t have for comparison).
On this band’s first album in too many years, it says, “God grant us the blissfulness to change the things we want, blow up the things we can’t, and the money to cover the difference.” You’d feel like that too if you’d pioneered the intersection between funk, punk, and heavy guitar (don’t wanna call it metal) only to see lesser bands get rich off the style. The Tar Babies are like a funky ‘90s version of the Voidoids, thanks to Robert Quine-like snarling guitar lines of angular, rough delicacy (though with more wah-wah) and some Hell-ish stuffy-nosed, half-spoken vocals.
The amazingly dissonant guitar that opens this immediately proclaims the album title false advertising. This tight trio packs the wallop of heavy metal without the clichés, with Larry Boothroyd’s supple basslines and drummer Tim Solyan’s eccentric syncopation making it funky at times without ever being funk. The obvious antecedent is the Minutemen (I bet guitarist/vocalist Ralph Spight is a D. Boon fan), whose high level of political lyrics is also matched. My favorite overlooked current punk band has made its best album yet.
